phia. The scenery of the Elk
river, upon which you enter soon after leaving the port of
Baltimore, is not beautiful. We embarked at six in the morning,
and at twelve reached the Chesapeak and Delaware canal; we then
quitted the steam-boat, and walked two or three hundred yards to
the canal, where we got on board a pretty little decked boat,
sheltered by a neat awning, and drawn by four horses. This canal
cuts across the state of Delaware, and connects the Chesapeak and
Delaware rivers: it has been a work of great expense, though the
distance is not more than thirteen miles; for a considerable part
of this distance the cutting has been very deep, and the banks
are in many parts thatched, to prevent their crumbling. At the
point where the cutting is deepest, a light bridge is thrown
across, which, from its great height, forms a striking object to
the travellers passing below it. Every boat that passes this
canal pays a toll of twenty dollars.

Nothing can be less interesting than that part of the state of
Delaware through which this cut passes, the Mississippi hardly
excepted. At one, we reached the Delaware river, at a point
nearly opposite Delaware Fort, which looks recently built, and
is very handsome. [This fort was destroyed by fire a few months
afterwards.] Here we again changed our vessel, and got on
board another of their noble steam-boats; both these changes
were made with the greatest regularity and dispatch.

There is nothing remarkable in the scenery of the Delaware. The
stream is wide and the banks are flat; a short distance before
you reach Philadelphia two large buildings of singular appearance
strike the eye. On enquiry I learnt that they were erected for
the purpose of sheltering two ships of war. They are handsomely
finished, with very neat roofs, and are ventilated by many
windows. The expense of these buildings must have been
considerable, but, as the construction of the vast machines they
shelter was more so, it may be good economy.

We reached Philadelphia at four o'clock in the afternoon. The
approach to this city is not so striking as that to Baltimore;
though much larger, it does not now show itself so well; it wants
domes and columns: it is, nevertheless, a beautiful city.
Nothing can exceed its neatness; the streets are well paved, the
foot-way, as in all the old American cities, is of brick, like
the old pantile walk at Tunbridge Wells. This is almost entirely
sheltered from