these blasted monuments of ruined vegetation is strange and peculiar; and the air of desertion and desolation which pervades their neighbourhood, reminds one of the stories that are told of the Upas valley of Java, for here too not a bird is to be seen.  The smell arising from this swamp in the night, was so bad as to oblige us to shut all the windows and doors of the boat, which, added to the bellowing and croaking of the bull frogs—­the harsh and incessant noise of the grasshoppers, and the melancholy cry of the whip-poor-will, formed a combination not of the most agreeable nature.  Yet, in defiance of all this, we were induced occasionally to brave the terrors of the night, in order to admire that beautiful insect the fire-fly, or as it is called by the natives, “lightning bug.”  They emit a greenish phosphorescent light, and are seen at this season in every part of the country.  The woods here were full of them, and seemed literally to be studded with small stars, which emitted a bright flickering light.

After you pass Syracuse, the country begins to improve; but still it is low and marshy, and for the most part unhealthy, as the appearance of the people clearly indicates.  In this country, as in every other, the canals are generally cut through comparatively low lands, and the low lands here, with few exceptions, are all swampy; however, a great deal of the unhealthiness which pervades this district, arises from want of attention.  A large portion of the inhabitants are Low Dutch, who appear never to be in their proper element, unless when settled down in the midst of a swamp.  They allow rotten timber to accumulate, and stagnant pools to remain about their houses, and from these there arises an effluvium which is most unpleasant in warm weather, which, however, they do not seem to perceive.

We entered Rochester, through an aqueduct thirty rods in length, built of stone, across the Genessee river.  Rochester is the handsomest town on this line.  Some of the houses here are tastefully decorated.  All the windows have Venetian blinds, and generally there are one or two covered balconies attached to the front of each house.  Before the doors there are small parterres, planted with rose-trees, and other fragrant shrubs.  About half a mile from the town are the Falls of Genessee.  The water glides over an even bed of limestone rock, ninety-six feet above the level of the river below.  There is a beautiful regularity in this fall, but its extreme uniformity divests it of picturesque effect.  Here the celebrated diver, Sam.  Patch, subsequently met his fate in diving off this precipice.  He had performed similar feats at the Falls of Niagara, without sustaining any injury.  He was not killed by the fall; but is supposed to have fainted when midway from, his leap, as his arms were observed to relax, and his legs to open, before he reached the water.