The trade of Cincinnati continues to be dull. Two of the banks have given up business altogether, and two others are struggling for existence. Their money is 33¹⁄₂ and 60 per cent under par. One of these establishments has been in the habit of giving in exchange for its own notes, those of another paper shop at a considerable distance; when the paper so obtained is presented at the second, it is taken in exchange for the money of a third bank still farther off. At the third, the bills are exchanged for the money of the first. This is in reality making banks “_equally solvent with their neighbouring institutions_.” Some of the stockholders, {272} _who are themselves the debtors of the banks_, procure a part of the money, which is either much depreciated, or entirely sunk to satisfy for the same debts. Females of a certain description are not to be seen in the streets of Cincinnati after dusk. This is attributed, not so much to police regulations, as to the boys, whose practice it is to chase them. On the 23d, a regiment of Militia was reviewed. The state of discipline is so bad that every movement is accompanied with disorder. The time occupied in training is short, and the practice of privates electing their own officers is not considered conducive to subordination, especially in time of peace. They are, however, armed with good rifles, and are formidable troops in the woods. The last number of the Edinburgh Review, Peter’s Letters to his Kinsfolk,[144] _Blackwood’s Magazine_, and the Monastery,[145] are the current works of the day. When lately at Louisville, I found an acquaintance reading Ivanhoe; during my stay with him, which was only about an hour, two persons applied for a loan of the book. He told me that there were seven or eight copies of it in that town, and that they are no sooner read by one than they are lent to another. Two copies of the Monastery had just then arrived in town, and were, if possible, more in request than the former. The natives of Britain, in America, have the satisfaction of mixing with a people who are descended from the same ancestors, who speak the same language, who are instructed by the same standard books, who are amused by the same novels, and who sing the same songs. In giving you details of my journey from the Ohio to Lake Erie, I shall confine myself almost {273} entirely to a transcript of notes taken by the way.[146] On the 26th of September I left Cincinnati. My travelling equipment consisted of a light waggon, drawn by a Yankee mare. The animal was spirited, but at the same time docile, and obedient to the rein; and the roads, though rough in some parts, and covered with dust, were such as are in this country called good. The atmosphere was clear, without a single speck of cloud, and the temperature of the air agreeable. I got forward with a degree of ease and good spirit, that might well become a ride undertaken for pleasure.