MR. ROBERT MERRY,--Though we are eight hundred nines from Boston, we get Merry’s Museum every month. Sometimes it comes late, and this disappoints me; but I am glad to get it after all. I see that some of your subscribers write you letters; I venture to follow their example, and shall tell you something about Cleveland. It is quite a pleasant town--at least, I think so, for it is my birth-place. It is situated on a bluff eighty feet high, upon the south side of Lake Erie. The streets are straight, and cross each other at right angles. You can look out upon the lake from many of the streets, and as it is seventy miles wide, on the north side you cannot see the land. The streets are very level, and many of the houses are handsome. I was once at New Haven, in Connecticut, and I think some of the streets in Cleveland look like some of those in New Haven. We have, however, no mountains, like East and West Rock. Indeed, the country is flat around Cleveland, and, far as the eye can reach, you can see nothing like a mountain. The river Cayahogo empties into the lake west of the town. At the mouth of this is our harbor, and here you see a great many small vessels. Some of these come from Buffalo, some from Detroit, some from Canada, some from Sandusky, and some from other places. They often carry away four or five thousand barrels of flour in a single day. Fine steamboats come here every day, and at this season we see many people in them from Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. Thus you see, Mr. Merry, though we are so far from Boston, we are not quite out of the world. The steamboats go almost a thousand miles farther north and west than we are, and I am told that some of the emigrants, when asked to what place they are going, say, “to Sun Down.” I have now filled my paper, though I ought to tell you that this is a very cheap place to live in. You can buy a barrel of flour for three dollars; a ton of excellent coal for two dollars and fifty cents; eggs for six cents a dozen; and a wild turkey for twenty-five cents. If any of your friends can’t find room enough in Boston, let them come out here, and we will take care of them. A letter of introduction from you will ensure them a welcome. Yours, S. P----T. The Lark. MUSIC COMPOSED FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM. [Illustration: Music] 1. I hear a pretty bird, but hark! I cannot see it any-where, Oh! it is a little lark Singing in the morning air. Little lark, do tell me why You are singing in the sky.