The progress of Rochester has not been so rapid as that of Buffalo; in 1826 they made a pretty fair start, and at present Rochester has only a little above forty thousand, while, as we said a few pages back, Buffalo has sixty thousand.  Rochester has the disadvantage of not being built quite on the lake, as Buffalo may be said to be; moreover, the carrying on Lake Ontario is not so great as on Lake Erie.  Both towns enjoy the rich advantages of the Erie canal, and Rochester is benefited by water-power in a way Buffalo is not.  Genesee river, in a distance of three miles, falls nearly two hundred and thirty feet, and has three cascades, the greatest of which is upwards of one hundred feet; this power has not been overlooked by the Rochesterians, who have established enormous flour-mills in consequence, using up annually three million bushels of wheat.  As one of the Genesee falls was close to the town, I bent my steps thither; the roads were more than ankle deep in mud, and I had some difficulty in getting to the spot; when there, the dreary nakedness of the banks and the matter-of-factism of a huge mill, chased even the very thought of beauty from my mind:  whether man stripped the banks, or Nature, I cannot say, but I should rather “guess” it was man.

I was puddling back full of disappointment, and had just got upon the wooden pavement, which is a trottoir upon the plank-road system, when I saw a strange sail ahead, with rather a novel rig; could it be?—­no! yes!—­no! yes!—­yes, by George! a real, living Rochester Bloomer was steering straight for me.  She was walking arm-in-arm with a man who looked at a distance awfully dirty; upon closer examination, I found the effect was produced by his wearing all his face-hair close clipped, like a hunter’s coat in the season:  but I had but little time to spare upon him—­the Bloomer was the star of attraction:  on she came with a pretty face, dark hair, eyes to match, and a good figure; she wore a black beaver hat, low crown, and broad brim; round the hat was tied, in a large bow, a bright red ribbon:  under a black silk polka, which fitted to perfection, she had a pair of chocolate-coloured pantaloons, hanging loosely and gathered in above the ankles, and a neat pair of little feet were cased in a sensible pair of boots, light, but at the same time substantial.  A gap occurring in the trottoir, and the roads being shockingly muddy, I was curious to see how Bloomer faced the difficulty; it never seemed to give her a moment’s thought:  she went straight at it, and reached the opposite side with just as much ease as her companion.