scene, and he cannot get rid of the idea of imprisonment, where the visible horizon is never more distant than five or six hundred yards.  Yet this is the delight of an Indian or a backwoodsman, and the gloomy ferocity that characterizes these people is evidently engendered by the surrounding scenery, and may be considered as indigenous to the forest.  Hardgrove’s is perhaps the handsomest prairie in Illinois—­before us lay a rich green undulating meadow, and on either side, clusters of trees, interspersed through this vast plain in beautiful irregularity—­the waving of the high grass, and the distant groves rearing their heads just above the horizontal line, like the first glimpse of land to the weary navigator, formed a combination of ideas peculiar to the scene which lay before us.

With the exception of one or two miles of wood, occasionally, the whole of our journey through Illinois lay over prairie ground, and the roads were so level, that without any extraordinary exertion on the part of our horse, he carried us from thirty to forty miles a day.

We next crossed the “grand prairie,” passing over the Indian trace.  Although this is by no means so picturesque as Hardgrove’s, yet the boundless prospect that is presented on first entering this prairie is far the more sublime—­the ideas expand, and the imagination is carried far beyond the limits of the eye.  We saw some deer scouring the plains, and several “prairie wolves” skulking in the high grass—­this animal is sometimes destructive to sheep.  The size is about that of our fox.  Most farmers keep three or four hounds, which are trained to combat the wolf.  The training is thus—­a dead wolf is first shewn to a young dog, when he is set on to tear it; the next process is to muzzle a live wolf, and tie him to a stake, when the dog of course kills him; the last is, setting the dog on an unmuzzled wolf, which has been tied to a stake, with his legs shackled.  The dog being thus accustomed to be always the victor, never fails to attack and kill the prairie wolf whenever he meets him.

Within thirteen miles of Carlisle, we stopped at an inn, a solitary establishment, the nearest habitation being more than six miles distant.  The landlord, Mr. Elliot, told us that he was unable to accommodate us with beds, as his house was already quite full; but that if we could dispense with beds, he would provide us with every thing else.  Having no alternative, we of course acceded to his proposal.  There was then holding at his house what is termed an “inn fair,” or the day after the wedding.  The marriage takes place at the house of the bride’s father, and the day following a party is given by the bridegroom, when he takes home his wife.  The people here assembled had an extremely healthy appearance, and some of the girls were decidedly handsome, having, with fine florid complexions, regular features and good teeth.  The landlord and his sons were very civil, as indeed were all the company there assembled.