This walk, and our subsequent explorings in Grafton, occupied the whole forenoon, the temptation to pick the red leaves and shake the trees for hickory nuts being very great, and having greatly prolonged the time which our walk occupied. But the village itself, for it is no more, though, having a mayor, it calls itself a city, had great objects of interest, and is a curious instance of what a railway will do in America to _make_ a town; for it scarcely had any existence three years ago, and is now full of artificers and others employed in the railway works, all fully occupied, and earning excellent wages. The people marry so early that the place was almost overflowing with children, who certainly bore evidence in their looks to the healthiness of the climate. This being a slave state, there was a sprinkling of a black population; and among the slaves we were shocked by observing a little girl, with long red ringlets and a skin exquisitely fair, and yet of the proscribed race, which made the institution appear more revolting in our eyes than anything we have yet seen. The cook at the hotel was a noble-looking black, tall and well-made, and so famous for his skill at omelettes, that we begged him to give us a lesson on the subject, which he willingly did. I asked him if he were a slave, and he replied, making me a low bow, "No, ma'am, I belong to myself." The little red-haired girl was a slave of the mistress of the hotel. We again linked ourselves on to a train which came up at about one o'clock, and at Benton's Ferry, about twenty miles from Grafton, we crossed the Monongahela, over a viaduct 650 feet long; the iron bridge, which consists of three arches of 200 feet span each, being the longest iron bridge in America. Though the water was not very deep, owing to a recent drought, it was curious to see the little stream of yesterday changed into an already considerable river, almost beating any we can boast of in England. We now began to wind our way down the ravine called Buffalo Creek, which we passed at Fairmont, over a suspension bridge 1000 feet long. The road still continued very beautiful, and was so all the way to this place, Wheeling, which we reached at about six o'clock. The last eleven miles was up the banks of the _real_ Ohio, for the Monongahela, after we last left it, takes a long course northward, and after being joined at Pittsburg by the Alleghany, a river as large as itself, the two together there, form the Ohio. From Pittsburg to where we first saw it, it had come south more than 100 miles, and at Wheeling it is so broad and deep as to be covered with magnificent steamers; there were five in front of our hotel window, and most singular-looking they were, with their one huge wheel behind, scarcely touching the water, and their two tall funnels in front. They tower up to a great height, and are certainly the most splendid-looking steamers we ever saw.