On a fine morning in June, I took my departure from Buffalo, in the lake steamer _Governor Porter_, for the port of Cleveland in the state of Ohio. The sun was shining on the silvery bosom of the lake, which in a dead calm gave it a refulgent glassy appearance. We had not, however, been two hours at sea before the clouds began to collect, and a heavy gale came on with rapidity. This continued to increase until the day following, during which the vessel had passed Cleveland, the place of my destination, and was driving before a furious north-wester towards Detroit, at the head of the lake. The captain stated that all his endeavours to make the landing-place at Cleveland had been unavailing, but if those passengers whom he had engaged to land there would proceed with him on the voyage to his destination, he would land them on his return, which he said would probably be in three or four days. As this offer necessarily included board, the three passengers, who were in the same predicament as myself, after a short consultation agreed to accept it; and as time was not an object to me, I did not demur, for I much wished to have a view of the country in that direction. Had either of us dissented, the captain would, probably, have landed us at the next port, a result that would have involved the expense and inconvenience of a thirty miles' ride, or thereabouts, to Cleveland, in a rough stage, over rougher roads. The weather moderated towards sunset, and we had a very favourable passage to the head of the lake, and entering Detroit harbour, which lies at the foot of the town, I soon after landed, and took a stroll into it. It is not a very populous place, the inhabitants being, I should say, under 4000. The houses are in general, heavy dirty-looking buildings, though the streets are tolerably wide, and built with regularity. It is, I believe, peopled principally by French and Dutch, who appeared to be in low circumstances, and who follow the usual town occupations.