roar, and dash, as if it were the Father of Floods, till it sinks into nothing, when embosomed in the greater stream, and there acknowledges its own insignificance. Let him see 'the Broad Horns,' the adventurous flatboats of western waters, on which--frail bark!--the daring backwoodsman sallies forth from the Wabash, or rivers hundreds of miles above, on a voyage of atlantic distance, with hogs--horses--oxen and cattle of all kinds on board--corn, flour, wheat, all the products of rich western lands--and let him see them, too, as he stems the strong current of the Mississippi, as if the wood on which he floated was realizing the fable of the Nymphs of Ida--goddesses, instead of pines. Take the young traveller where the clear, silvery waters of the Ohio become tinged with the mud from the Missouri, and where the currents of the mighty rivers run apart for miles, as if indignant at the strange embrace. Ascend with him farther, to St. Louis, where, if he looks upon the map he will find that he is about as near the east as the west, and that soon, the emigrant, who is borne on the wave of population that now beats at the base of the Rocky Mountains, and anon will overleap its summits--will speak of him as he now speaks of New-England, as far in the east. And then tell him that far west as he is, he is but at the beginning of steam navigation--that the Mississippi itself is navigable six or seven hundred miles upward--and that steam-boats have actually gone on the Missouri two thousand one hundred miles above its mouth, and that they _can go_ five hundred miles farther still! Take him, then, from this land where the woodsman is leveling the forest every hour, across the rich prairies of Illinois, where civilization is throwing up towns and villages, pointed with the spire of the church, and adorned with the college and the school,--then athwart the flourishing fields of Indiana, to Cincinnati,--well called 'the Queen of the West,'--a city of thirty thousand inhabitants, with paved streets, numerous churches, flourishing manufactories, and an intelligent society too,--and this in a State with a million of souls in it now, that has undertaken gigantic public works,--where the fierce savages, even within the memory of the young men, made the hearts of their parents quake with fear,--roaming over the forests, as they did, in unbridled triumph,--wielding the tomahawk in terror, and ringing the war-hoop like demons of vengeance let loose from below! Show him our immense inland seas, from Green Bay to Lake Ontario,--not inconsiderable oceans,--encompassed with fertile fields. Show him the public works of the Empire State, as well as those of Pennsylvania,--works the wonder of the world,--such as no people in modern times have ever equalled. And then introduce him to the busy, humming, thriving population of New-England, from the Green Mountains of Vermont, the Switzerland of America, to the northern lakes and wide sea-coast of Maine.