ubject to
his art he has indelibly engraven his name, often to be pleasantly
recalled in after hours, perhaps of pain and worldly care.

It is in the hope of gaining this living record he seeks consolation for
the absence of all other less perishable fame: expecting, hoping nothing
from posterity, he has a stronger claim upon the kindness of his
contemporaries, for whom alone he lives, and the feeling is reciprocal:
hence it is that these repay him with a superabundance of present
regard, to soften to him the consciousness of the oblivion to which his
memory is inevitably consigned, however great his genius, and however
ardent its longings "after immortality."

JOURNAL

OF A VISIT TO QUEBEC, VIA LAKE CHAMPLAN AND MONTREAL.

_Saturday, May 30th._--Went on board the De Witt Clinton steam-boat
about six P.M. and in the brightest possible night sailed up the most
beautiful of rivers. We were not crowded; my excellent friend C----e was
in company, on his way to take unto him a wife, and consequently the
trip was to me unusually agreeable. We kept pacing the deck until we had
passed through the deep shadows of the highlands, and floated over the
silvery expanse of Newburg Bay.

_Sunday, 31st._--Before six A.M. we were set ashore at Albany.
Breakfasted at the Eagle, and at nine A.M. left for Saratoga by the
railroad; thence by stage to Whitehall. The day was fine, the roads
rough enough to be sure. To the north lay the mountain State of
Vermont, and to the south a ridge of bold well-wooded heights. At
Glenfalls we passed the Hudson by a wooden bridge thrown over the very
foot of the cataract: luckily, whilst in the act of crossing, a trace
came unhitched, and we pulled up to order matters, just at the centre of
the misty abyss. Thus were we afforded ample leisure to look on the wild
fall, which, when in the wilderness, must have been a glorious scene;
for, disfigured as it now is by a mill or two of the ordinary kind, it
is still magnificent.

Our ride from this place to Whitehall reminded me much of some part of
North Wales: the enclosures are small, irregularly shaped, and
surrounded by walls of stone; many rills of clear water are crossed,
making their way to the Hudson through rough courses bestrewn with
fragments of rock: close on the left the river is itself visible every
now and then, whilst in the distance rise a confused heap of wild
mountains.

Numerous comely-looking pigs, together with groups of