_St. Louis, November 4th._--We came on here on the 2nd instant, and soon after leaving Vincennes found ourselves in a prairie, but it was not till after sixty miles that we got to the Grand Prairie, which we traversed for about sixty more. The vastness, however, of this prairie, consists in its length from north to south, in which it stretches through nearly the whole length of the State. These prairies are enormous plains of country, covered, at this time, by a long brown grass, in which are the seed-vessels and remains of innumerable flowers, which are said to be most lovely in their form and colour in the spring. It was disappointing only to see the dark remains of what must have been such a rich parterre of flowers. One of our party, Colonel Reilly, of Texas, who had seen our Crystal Palace gardens at Sydenham, in full flower, said that they reminded him of the prairies in the spring. The ground is so level, that the woods on the horizon had the effect that the first sight of the dark line of land has at sea. In many places near the road on each side, small farms were established, and good-sized fields of Indian corn were growing; and wherever there was a railway station, a town, or even a "city" with one or two churches, and an hotel, besides grocery stores and wooden buildings of various kinds, were in progress in this immense wilderness. The rain poured down incessantly, giving the country a melancholy and forlorn appearance. Towards the latter part of our journey, we descended into and traversed the great valley of the Mississippi. We passed several coal-mines, and here, where the vein of coal is eight feet thick, the land, including the coal, may be bought for one pound an acre. The country soon assumed the appearance of a great swamp, and is most unhealthy, being full of fever and ague. At length our train stopped, and we were ushered into omnibuses of enormous length, drawn by four horses, and two of these caterpillar-like looking vehicles were driven on to the steam-ferry, and in this unromantic way we steamed across the great Father of Waters, and a most unpoetic and unromantic river it appeared to be. There is nothing in its width here to strike the eye or the imagination, though its depth is very great, and it has risen ten feet within the last week. But it appeared to us ugly and inconsiderable after the wide, rapid, clear, and magnificent St. Lawrence. We were driven through a sea of mud and mire to this large and comfortable hotel, and were shortly afterwards seated at table with the rest of our party.