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I think it will not be many years before they will be united, and form one large and beautiful city. At both these places they make very great quantities of salt. The water, from which the salt is made, is procured from springs, near the borders of the Onondaga lake, and is made into salt both by boiling and by evaporating in the sun. Near Syracuse a great many acres are covered with vats for the latter purpose. At Geddes, a small place a mile west of Syracuse, the salt is made in great quantities by boiling.

Passing Canton and Jordan, two small villages, the first fourteen and the second twenty miles from Syracuse, we came to Weedsport. This is 26 miles from Syracuse. I had travelled as far as this place, many years ago, but no farther. Weedsport is only eight miles north of Auburn, where there is an excellent state prison. Two prisoners who had been put on board our boat at Rome, to be sent to Auburn, now left us, under the care of their officer, to be shut up, one of them for ten years, and the other, I believe, for life.

A little before noon we passed Port Byron, a handsome place, three miles from Weedsport. Six miles farther is Montezuma, also a considerable place. Beyond Montezuma we had to pass through a marsh, many miles in length, which looked like a sea. Our boat went along in the marsh, by the side of a bridge for the horses. This marsh is caused by the overflowing of the river

Clyde is eleven miles from Montezuma, and is a handsome town. Lyons is nine miles farther on, and contains, it is said, 2500 inhabitants. The soil through all this country is excellent, but is flat and low, and was once unhealthy. Night now came on again, and we only knew that we passed through Newark, Palmyra, and Pittsford to Rochester; a distance from Lyons of 44 miles. When I awaked in the morning, June 7th, we were only three miles from Rochester, near a lock. The lock we could not pass, another boat having attempted to pass it which was rather too large and got wedged in. After some delay, the boat was disengaged and we passed.

I was delighted with Rochester. It is a fine city, with good houses, handsome streets, and many beautiful shade trees. Besides this, its situation on both sides of the charming Gennesee river adds greatly to its beauty. We stopped an hour or two at the Eagle tavern, in Exchange street, and during our stay visited the Gennesee falls. These are near the north part of the city. The whole mass of water falls down a perpendicular ledge, nearly 100 feet. It was here that poor Sam Patch lost his life. He had jumped down many dangerous falls, and down a part of the falls of Niagara, among the rest; but here he jumped for the last time. Few, however, mourned

very weak mind to perform such useless exploits; but they were little less weak who followed after him, to gape and stare at and encourage him. He should have been let alone. Had nobody followed him, he would not have jumped much.

We now entered another packet boat to proceed westward. Twelve miles from Rochester, we came to Adams' basin. Five miles farther is Brockport, containing 100 to 150 houses; some of which are in large blocks and give the place the appearance of a city.

Holley is five miles beyond Brockport. Newport or Albion, 10 miles farther. The last contains nearly 150 houses, and 4 churches. Here are many large storehouses for wheat, for which the soil of the country here is happily adapted. These storehouses are so constructed as to jut over the canal, and when a canal-boat is to be loaded, they have nothing to do but to open some holes and let the wheat run through into the boat under it. Yankees have been here, I thought, when I saw this admirable contrivance.

Medina, a large and flourishing but very new village, is 10 miles farther. Here, over the canal, is a suspension bridge, as the people call it; that is, a bridge for foot people hung on chains. Stumps of trees are very thick all around the village, presenting a curious appear

ance.

Rose early in the morning to visit the Locks which we had ascended in the darkness of the preceding evening. It was a curious sight. Here are five locks built of hewn stone, close together, each 12 feet; so that we ascend 60 feet in all; and the whole ascent is as steep as the roof of our steepest buildings. It is somewhat like going up five great stairs. The locks are all double so that boats can go up on one side while they go down on the other. West of the locks the canal is cut through solid rock to the depth of 20 feet, for above two miles. There is but one lock from this place to Lake Erie, and that is a small one, of only a few feet, near Black Rock. From Lockport to Buffalo is about 30 miles.

I was pleased with Lockport. In 1821 it was a wilderness. Now it is a flourishing place of several thousand inhabitants, and seems like a city. There is a new rail-road from Lockport to the Niagara falls. Our journey to the Falls, and a description of this great natural curiosity, I mean to give you in my next.

A field requires three things; fair weather, good seed, and a good hus

But what do they want of it? you will ask. O, to play with; I suppose. Children are fond of playing with birds. Yes, and of hurting them too, do you say? Not all children. Some do not take a pleasure in hurting them. They love to look at them, but they would almost as soon hurt a brother or a sister as a bird. If they hurt a boy, and are sorry for it, perhaps the boy will forgive them; but not so with a wounded bird. He knows nothing about forgiving or being forgiven.

It happens, in the present instance, however, that it is a dead parrot stuffed, that these boys are jumping after. They have no live parrots in the house or about it, that we know. Their father, perhaps, is an anti-slavery man, and does not keep birds in cages, or confined in any other manner. He is anxious they should be free, as the Creator made them. He would think it droll enough to be in the habit of imprisoning birds or brute animals, and bringing up his children in full view of the cages or cribs which contain them.

Is it not much better to procure the skins of birds and animals after they are dead, and put them in our houses, our museums, our halls, our menageries, &c., than to try to keep living ones? Have you ever thought of the suffering that these poor creatures undergo, and

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the diseases they are apt to acquire in strange climates, with strange company, in strange places, jostled about in a strange manner, and with strange food and drink? While you view them, you ought at least to remember at how dear a rate the privilege of seeing them is purchased.

VIEW OF SOUTH HADLEY FALLS.

South Hadley is about 90 miles westward of Boston, 12 miles north of Springfield, and a little south of Northampton, on the east bank of the beautiful Connecticut. Here, in the distance of about fifteen rods, the river falls forty feet, which renders it a fine place for mills and factories; of which there are several. There is a canal round the falls, which is about two miles long; 300 feet of which is cut to the depth of 40 feet through the solid rock. Near this village, buildings are now erecting for Mt. Holyoke Female Seminary.

South Hadley is a curious place. Near it the river is compressed on both sides -pinched as it were- -between two mountains, Mount Tom on the west, and Mount Holyoke on the east. Where Mount Holyoke approaches the river, it is a perpendicular from twenty to one hundred feet high, having, in some places, the appearance of artificial columns. It is this mountain which is seen in the engraving in the rear of the village.

South Hadley is a flourishing township of about 1200 or 1300 inhabitants,

many of whom are farmers and keep large flocks of sheep. A little way up the river towards Northampton, is the curious bend in the river called the Oxbow.

Old Hadley, north of South Hadley, has been celebrated as being for many years the hiding place of Goffe and Whalley, two of the judges of Charles I. by whom he was sentenced to be beheaded. On the restoration of Charles II. these judges fled to New England. Here, at New Haven, at Hadley, and elsewhere, they found friends who secreted them, sometimes in their houses or cellars, and sometimes in woods, swamps, rocks and caves. One or two anecdotes of these judges are worth remembering.

In the great war with Philip and the Indians in 1675, while these two judges were hid in a cellar, at Hadley, and while the people were at church, the place was attacked suddenly by the Indians. The people seized their arms, which they usually carried with them into the church, and rallied to defend themselves as well as they could. Suddenly a venerable old man, in an ancient dress, made his appearance, took the command, encouraged the drooping spirits of the half conquered inhabitants, and led them on to a complete victory over the Indians. The venerable old man disappeared as suddenly as he came; and so mysterious was the event to many that they believed him to have been an angel sent down from heaven to effect their deliverance; nor did they