I am a woman, and unlearned in such affairs; but, to a person with common sense and good eyesight, it is clear, when viewing the location, that, under the circumstances, he had no prospect of successful defence, and that to attempt it would have been an act of vanity, not valor.

I feel that I am not biassed in this judgment by my personal relations, for I have always heard both sides, and though my feelings had been moved by the picture of the old man sitting in the midst of his children, to a retired and despoiled old age, after a life of honor and happy intercourse with the public, yet tranquil, always secure that justice must be done at last, I supposed, like others, that he deceived himself, and deserved to pay the penalty for failure to the responsibility he had undertaken.  Now, on the spot, I change, and believe the country at large must, erelong, change from this opinion.  And I wish to add my testimony, however trifling its weight, before it be drowned in the voice of general assent, that I may do some justice to the feelings which possess me here and now.

A noble boat, the Wisconsin, was to be launched this afternoon; the whole town was out in many-colored array, the band playing.  Our boat swept round to a good position, and all was ready but—­the Wisconsin, which could not be made to stir.  This was quite a disappointment.  It would have been an imposing sight.

In the boat many signs admonished that we were floating eastward.  A shabbily-dressed phrenologist laid his hand on every head which would bend, with half-conceited, half-sheepish expression, to the trial of his skill.  Knots of people gathered here and there to discuss points of theology.  A bereaved lover was seeking religious consolation in—­Butler’s Analogy, which he had purchased for that purpose.  However, he did not turn over many pages before his attention was drawn aside by the gay glances of certain damsels that came on board at Detroit, and, though Butler might afterwards be seen sticking from his pocket, it had not weight to impede him from many a feat of lightness and liveliness.  I doubt if it went with him from the boat.  Some there were, even, discussing the doctrines of Fourier.  It seemed pity they were not going to, rather than from, the rich and free country where it would be so much easier than with us to try the great experiment of voluntary association, and show beyond a doubt that “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” a maxim of the “wisdom of nations” which has proved of little practical efficacy as yet.

Better to stop before landing at Buffalo, while I have yet the advantage over some of my readers.

THE BOOK TO THE READER,

WHO OPENS, AS AMERICAN READERS OFTEN DO,—­AT THE END.