eople of all kinds;--the enthusiast and the cunning
man; the naturalist, and the lover who needs to be rich for the sake
of her he loves.

The torrent of immigration swells very strongly towards this place.
During the fine weather, the poor refugees arrive daily, in their
national dresses, all travel-soiled and worn. The night they pass in
rude shantees, in a particular quarter of the town, then walk off into
the country,--the mothers carrying their infants, the fathers leading
the little children by the hand, seeking a home where their hands may
maintain them.

One morning we set off in their track, and travelled a day's
journey into this country,--fair, yet not, in that part which I saw,
comparable, in my eyes, to the Rock River region. Rich fields, proper
for grain, alternate with oak openings, as they are called; bold,
various, and beautiful were the features of the scene, but I saw
not those majestic sweeps, those boundless distances, those heavenly
fields; it was not the same world.

Neither did we travel in the same delightful manner. We were now in a
nice carriage, which must not go off the road, for fear of breakage,
with a regular coachman, whose chief care was not to tire his horses,
and who had no taste for entering fields in pursuit of wild-flowers,
or tempting some strange wood-path, in search of whatever might
befall. It was pleasant, but almost as tame as New England.

But charming indeed was the place where we stopped. It was in the
vicinity of a chain of lakes, and on the bank of the loveliest
little stream, called, the Bark River, which, flowed in rapid amber
brightness, through fields, and dells, and stately knolls, of most
poetic beauty.

The little log-cabin where we slept, with its flower-garden in front,
disturbed the scene no more than a stray lock on the fair cheek.
The hospitality of that house I may well call princely; it was the
boundless hospitality of the heart, which, if it has no Aladdin's lamp
to create a palace for the guest, does him still higher service by the
freedom of its bounty to the very last drop of its powers.

Sweet were the sunsets seen in the valley of this stream, though,
here, and, I grieve to say, no less near the Rock River, the fiend,
who has every liberty to tempt the happy in this world, appeared in
the shape of mosquitos, and allowed us no bodily to enjoy our mental
peace.

One day we ladies gave, under the guidance of our host, to visiting
all the beauti