You now find me here, a few miles from the great Mississippi, in a little town, picturesquely situated among hills beside a little river, called Five-River, which with many sinuosities winds through the glens. The town is supported by its lead mines which are general in this highland district; by mining, smelting, and the export of this heavy dark metal. A leaden sky hung over the town as I entered it, and I see in the street old madams waddling about in dull grey-coloured cloaks, and old bonnets, very much like poor old madams in shabby bonnets and cloaks in the streets of Stockholm, in grey autumn weather; gentlemen too, or semi-gentlemen, in ragged coats—but less annoyed by them than they would be with us. Everything looks dolefully grey; and it is as cold as it is in November with us. Yesterday it was quite otherwise. Yesterday was a most glorious summer day.
It rained when at dawn I left Blue Mound, but soon afterwards cleared up; the wind chased the clouds across the immense plain, and the play of light and shadow over it, and those glorious views—I cannot express how much I enjoyed that day's journey! The road along that high prairie-land was hard and level as the roads with us in summer. The diligence in which I sate, for the most part alone, rolled lightly across the plain, and seemed to fly over it, approaching every moment nearer to the giant-river, the western goal of my journey. The wind was as warm as with us in July; and these western views, which increased in grandeur the nearer we approached the great river—produced an unspeakable effect. I never experienced anything similar produced by a natural object.
As the day wore on the roads became worse, and late in the evening I arrived excessively weary, at the little town of Waterville, if I rightly remember the name. It
