I travelled with three gentlemen from New York as far as Fort George, where they left me on their return by Montreal. We crossed at Buffalo on the 9th instant, at which place we arrived half an hour before the President; and although one of our party (Mr. Gouverneur) was his nephew, we did not delay our journey to have a view of his countenance, and came over to Fort Erie, or, properly speaking, its remains. Seven miles from the Fort, we stopped the next morning to breakfast at a house where Isaac had lived six months, and the landlord told me with tears: "He was a friend and a father to me. I was close to him when he was shot;"--with these words, unable from his feelings to add more, he walked away quickly up his orchard.... On paying my respects to Mrs. Powell, the lady of the present chief justice, and to Mrs. Claus, they were greatly affected, and shed tears; and Mr. Scott, on whom I called yesterday, was equally so. Every one here is most kind--Isaac truly lived in their hearts: from one end of Canada to the other, he is beloved to a degree you can scarcely imagine--his memory will long live among them. "To your brother, Sir, we are indebted for the preservation of this province," is a sentiment that comes from the heart, and is in the mouths of too many to be flattery. This is pleasing, no doubt, to me, but it is a mournful pleasure, and recalls to me the past. I dine at five with the gentlemen of this town, and I see a splendid table laid out up stairs--the garrison is invited. I found no way to avoid these marks of respect to Isaac's memory. I assure you that it is truly unpleasant to me to see so many persons putting themselves in some degree out of their way to gratify me, as I think it, though I am aware they do it to satisfy their own feelings. I should also mention, that last Saturday I dined at Fort George, by invitation of the gentlemen there and its environs; we were _forty-nine_ in number, and it was the anniversary of the capture of Detroit. I was invited, without their remembering the day of the month--it was a curious coincidence. The clergyman, who was of the party, made allusion during divine service next morning to Isaac, and to my being in the church. I mention these particulars, that you may fully judge of the kindness of all. After the service, three fine young farmers came up to me and wished to shake hands, having been at Detroit and Queenstown. Nothing could exceed their marks of attachment. Every body, they said, connected with Isaac would always be seen with pleasure: they were, like myself, most sensibly affected.