We had a capital
cicerone to explain all that we saw as we went along, in a Yankee, who
told us he was "raised" in these parts, though he lived in "Virginny."
He looked like a small farmer, but had a countenance of the keenest
intelligence. He told papa, before he had spoken five minutes with him,
that it was quite right a person of his intelligence should come to this
country. When we came to Auburn, he quoted "'Sweet Auburn, loveliest
village of the plain;' a beautiful poem, sir, written by Goldsmith, one
of your own poets." We told him we thought of going to St. Paul, beyond
the Mississippi, when he said, "Oh yes! that's a new country--that's a
_cold_ country too. If you are there in the winter, it will make you
_snap_."
At Rochester we stopped for an hour to dine. We had intended to sleep
there, but none of us being tired, we changed our plan in order to come
on here last night. During this hour we went to see the Falls of the
Genessee, which in some respects surpassed Trenton, as the river is very
broad, and falls in one sheet, from a height of ninety-six feet, over a
perpendicular wall of rock. We dined, and then papa and I took a rapid
walk to the post office, to post a letter to Alfred O., at Toronto. The
streets, as usual, were very wide, with spacious "stores" running very
far back, as they all seem to do in America.
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