y
might be placed, could depart in so remarkable a manner from the idioms of
their native language."

M. Duponceau, a Frenchman settled at Philadelphia, who is perhaps one of
the first philologists of the age, concludes a treatise on the same
subject with the following deductions:

1.--"That the American languages, in general, are rich in words and in
grammatical forms; and that in their complicated construction, the
greatest order, method, and regularity prevail."

2.--"That these complicated forms, which I call polysinthetic, appear to
exist in all those languages, from Greenland to Cape Horn."[8]

3.--"That these forms appear to differ essentially from those of the
ancient and modern languages of the old hemisphere."

We intended to proceed direct from the banks of the Mississippi to
Edwardsville, which lies in a north-easterly direction from St. Louis, but
unfortunately got on the wrong track, an occurrence by no means uncommon
on the prairies, and by this casualty visited Troy, a _town_ containing
two houses, namely, a "groggery," and a farm-house, both owned by the one
person. The only resemblance this trans-Atlantic Ilium can possibly bear
to the city of the ten years' siege, lies in the difficulty of
ascertaining its location; for had we not been informed that here stood
the town of Troy, we should have passed through this, as we did through
many others, without ever suspecting the fact. Town-making is quite a
speculation in the western country; and the first thing a man does after
purchasing a few hundred acres of ground, is to "lay off a town lot:" this
causes the maps to be studded with little circular dots, and great big
names attached to them, which would lead one to suppose the population to
be much greater than it is in reality.

From Edwardsville, we proceeded by Ripley and Greenville, to Vandalia, the
seat of government of the state.

The prairies had lost much of the brilliant green colour which they
possessed when we before crossed them, and they were now assuming rather a
burnt appearance. Towards the close of autumn the grass generally becomes
so dry as to be easily ignited, which formerly took place by accident, or
otherwise, almost every year. The sight must be grand indeed; and we
almost regretted that we were not so fortunate as to be in danger of being
burnt alive--the sight would be worth the risk. There is a penalty
attached to the firing of the woods or prairies, as the plantations ar