I am sure the traveller who passes along the old post-road from Utica to Buffalo, and sees the hundred beautiful villages, the noble forests, the majestic trees, the rich foliage, the luxuriant orchards, the luscious fruits, the crops of yellow wheat, the fields of waving corn, the vast enclosures of dark, fertile soil, the peaceful lakes and silvery streams that everywhere meet the eye, will exclaim, THE GARDEN OF AMERICA! And then when he sees all this beautiful region intersected by canals and bound together by turnpikes, railroads, and lake and steam navigation, he will feel that Western New York possesses advantages of a most singular and superior character! * * * * * Last year in some few sketches of a tour to the West, a brief description was given of Geneva. This sweet village, take it all in all, I must regard as the gem of Western New York. I cannot conceive of a more lovely place for residence than this beautiful village on the banks of Seneca lake. * * * * * It was towards the close of the day that I reached this place, a spot with which so many sweet and sacred recollections were connected in my mind. My destination for the night was a few miles beyond it in the country. The road along which I passed lay through a scene full of sylvan beauty, disclosing every half mile to the eye of the traveller through the opening of the trees a beautiful view of a portion of the lake, that now slept in the sweet evening calm, tranquil as a sea of glass. The house of our friends was at length reached--and there were such greetings and gladness of heart, as they only feel who have been long and far separated from each other, with but little hope that they should ever again meet this side of eternity. CHAPTER XVII. A SUMMER TOUR. Retirement--Seneca Lake--Burlington, N. J.--Brooklyn, N. Y. The following chapters are made up of letters detailing incidents of travel connected with a tour from Philadelphia to Rhode Island, and from thence into Western New York, during the summer of 1840. _Seneca, July 22._ Although nearly five weeks have elapsed since I left Philadelphia, I have not, till the present time, had an opportunity of redeeming my promise in giving you the sketches I promised. I am now enjoying what I have been sighing for ever since I started on my summer excursion, _quietude_ and _seclusion_. Here I am encompassed with delightful rural scenery, and passing the livelong day undisturbed by the calls of either friends or parishioners making demands upon my time or services.