Let not the unsophisticated reader be alarmed at the somewhat barbarous and unintelligible word that heads this article. Let him not be deterred by a name from the investigation of facts, nor hindered by the repulsive magic of harshly-sounding syllables from rambling with us through the pages of an amusing and clever book. Hochelaga is neither a heathen god nor a Mohawk chief, an Indian cacique nor a Scandinavian idol, but simply the ancient and little known name of a well-known and interesting country. Under it is designated a vast and flourishing territory, a bright jewel in England's crown, a land whose daily increasing population, if only partially of British origin, yet is ruled by British laws, and enjoys the blessings of British institutions. On the continent of North America, over whose southern and central portions the banner of republicanism exultingly floats, a district yet remains where monarchical government and conservative principles are upheld and respected. By nature it is far from being the most favoured region of that New World which Columbus first discovered and Spaniards and English first colonized. It has neither the mineral wealth of Mexico nor the luxuriant fertility of the Southern States. Within its limits no cotton fields wave or sugar-canes rustle; the tobacco plant displays not its broad and valuable leaf; the crimson cochineal and the purple indigo are alike unknown; no mines of silver and gold freight galleons for the Eastern world. Its produce is industriously wrung from stubborn fields and a rigid climate—not generously, almost spontaneously, yielded by a glowing temperature and teeming soil. The corn and timber which it exchanges for European manufactures and luxuries, are results of the white man's hard and honest labour, not of the blood and sweat and ill-requited toil of flagellated negroes and oppressed Indians. From the Lakes and the St Lawrence to Labrador and the Bay of Hudson this country extends. Its name is Canada.

Mr Eliot Warburton, a gentleman favourably known to the English public, as author of a pleasant book of travel in the East, has given the sanction and benefit of his editorship to a narrative of rambles and observations in the Western hemisphere. We put little faith in editorships; favour and affection have induced many able men to endorse indifferent books; and we took up Hochelaga with all due disposition to be difficult, and to resist an imposition, had such been practised. Even the tender and touching compliments exchanged between author and editor in their respective prefaces, did not mollify us, or dispose us to look leniently upon a poor production. We are happy to say that we were speedily disarmed by the contents of the volumes; that we threw aside the critical cat-o'-nine-tails, whose deserved and well-applied lashes have made many a literary sinner to writhe, and prepared for the more grateful task of commending the agreeable pages of an intelligent and unprejudiced traveller. Since the latter chooses to be anonymous, we have no right to dispel his incognito, or to seek so to do. Concerning him, therefore, we will merely state what may be gathered from his book; that he is plump, elderly, good-tempered, and kind-hearted, and, we suspect, an ex-militaire.

Before opening the campaign in Canada, let us, for a moment, step ashore in what our author styles the fishiest of modern capitals, St John's, Newfoundland. Here codfish are the one thing universal; acres of sheds roofed with cod, laid out to dry, boats fishing for cod, ships loading with it, fields manured with it, and, best of all, fortunes made by it. The accomplishments of the daughter, the education of the son, the finery of the mother, the comforts of the father, all are paid for with this profitable fish. The population subsist upon it; figuratively, not literally. For, although the sea is alive with cod, the earth covered with it, and the air impregnated with its odour, it is carefully banished from the dinner table, and "an observation made on its absence from that apparently appropriate position, excited as much astonishment as if I had made a remark to a Northumberland squire that he had not a head-dish of Newcastle coals." But the abundance which renders it unpalatable to the Newfoundlanders, procures them more acceptable viands, and all the luxuries of life. The climate ungenial, the soil barren, crops are difficult to obtain, and rarely ripen; even potatoes and vegetables are but scantily compelled from the niggard earth; fish, the sole produce, is the grand article of barter. In exchange for his lenten ration of bacallao, the Spaniard sends his fruits and Xeres, the Portuguese his racy port, the Italian his Florence oil and Naples maccaroni. Every where, but especially in those "countries of the Catholic persuasion" where the fasts of the Romish church are most strictly observed, Newfoundland finds customers for its cod and suppliers of its wants.

Excepting in the case of a boundary question to settle, or a patriot revolt to quell, Canada obtains in England a smaller share than it deserves of the public thoughts. It does not appeal to the imagination by those attractive elements of interest which so frequently rivet attention on others of our colonies. India is brought into dazzling relief by its Oriental magnificence and glitter, and by its feats of arms; the West Indies have wealth and an important central position; our possessions towards the South pole excite curiosity by their distance and comparative novelty. But Canada, pacific and respectable, plain and unpretending, to many suggests no other idea than that of a bleak and thinly-peopled region, with little to recommend it, even in the way of picturesque scenery or natural beauty. Those who have hitherto entertained such an opinion may feel surprised at the following description of Quebec.

"Take mountain and plain, sinuous river and broad tranquil waters, stately ship and tiny boat, gentle hill and shady valley, bold headland and rich fruitful fields, frowning battlement and cheerful villa, glittering dome and rural spire, flowery garden and sombre forest—group them all into the choicest picture of ideal beauty your fancy can create—arch it over with a cloudless sky—light it up with a radiant sun, and, lest the sheen should be too dazzling, hang a veil of lighted haze over all, to soften the lines and perfect the repose; you will then have seen Quebec on this September morning."

The internal arrangements of the chief port and second town of Canada do not correspond with its external appearance and charming environs. The public buildings are ugly; the unsymmetrical streets twist and turn in every possible direction—are narrow and of quaint aspect, composed of houses irregularly placed and built. The suburbs, chiefly peopled by French Canadians, are of wood, with exception of the churches, hospitals, and convents. The population of the city, which now amounts to forty thousand souls, has increased fifteen thousand during the last fifteen years. The people are as motley as their dwellings; in all things there is a curious mixture of French and English. "You see over a corner house, 'Cul de Sac Street;' on a sign-board, 'Ignace Bougainville, chemist and druggist.' In the shops, with English money you pay a Frenchman for English goods; the piano at the evening party of Mrs What's-her-name makes Dutch concert with the music of Madame Chose's soirÉe in the next house. Sad to say, the two races do not blend; they are like oil and water—the English the oil, being the richer and at the top." The difference of descent tells its tale; the restless, grumbling Anglo-Saxon pushes his way upwards, energetic and indefatigable; the easy-going, contented French-Canadian, remains where he is, or rather sinks than rises. The latter has many good qualities; he is honest, sober, hardy, kind, and courteous. Brave and loyal, he willingly takes the field in defence of the established government and of British rights. The most brilliant exploit of the last American war is recorded of three hundred French Canadians under M. de Salaberry, who, by their resolute maintenance of a well-selected position, compelled General Hampton, with a park of artillery and a body of troops twenty times as numerous as themselves, to evacuate Lower Canada. Simple, credulous, and easily worked upon, it was at the incitation of a few knaves and adventurers that a portion of the French population were brought to share in the rebellion of 1837. There is little danger of another such outbreak, even though colonial demagogues should again agitate, French republicans again rave about British tyranny towards their oppressed brethren, and though the refuse and rabble of the States should once more assemble upon the frontier to aid and abet an insurrection. The abortive result of the last revolt, the little sympathy it found amongst the masses of the population, the judicious and conciliatory measures of recent governors, have combined to win over the disaffected, and to convince them that it is for their true interest to continue under the mild rule of Great Britain. An excellent feeling has been shown by all parties during our late difficult relations with the United States. "The Americans are altogether mistaken," said the leader of the Upper Canada reformers, "if they suppose that political differences in Canada arise from any sympathy with them or their institutions; we have our differences, but we are perfectly able to settle them ourselves, and will not suffer their interference."

"My countrymen," said one of the most influential French Canadians, during a discussion on the militia bill, "would be the first to rush to the frontier, and joyfully oppose their breasts to the foe; the last shot fired on this continent in defence of the British crown will be by the hand of a French Canadian. By habits, feeling, and religion, we are monarchists and conservatives."

When such sentiments are expressed by the heads of the opposition, there is little fear for Canada, and ambitious democrats must be content to push southwards. In a northerly direction it would be absurd for them to expect either to propagate their principles or extend their territory. They believe that in the event of a war with England, twenty or thirty thousand militia would speedily overrun and conquer Canada. In a clear and comprehensive statement of Canada's means of defence, the author of Hochelaga shows the folly of this belief, which assuredly can only be seriously entertained by men overweeningly presumptuous or utterly oblivious of the events of thirty years ago. When, in 1812, we came to loggerheads with our Yankee cousins, and they walked into Canada, expecting, as they now would, to walk over it, they soon found that they were to take very little by their motion. The whole number of British troops then in the colony was under two thousand four hundred men. Upper Canada was comparatively a wilderness, occupied by a few scattered labourers, difficult to organise into militia, and including no class out of which officers could be made. Yet, even with this slender opposition, how did the invaders fare? Where were the glorious results so confidently anticipated? Let the defeat at Chrystler's farm, the rout and heavy loss at Queenstown, the surrender of General Hall with his whole army and the territory of Michigan, reply to the question. And to-day how do matters stand? "Within the last twenty years, several entire Scottish clans, under their chiefs—M'Nabs, Glengarys, and others, worthy of their warlike ancestors—have migrated hither. Hardy and faithful men from the stern hills of Ulster, and fiery but kind-hearted peasants from the south of Ireland, with sturdy honest yeomen from Yorkshire and Cumberland, have fixed their homes in the Canadian forests. These immigrants, without losing their love and reverence for the crown and laws of their native country, have become attached to their adopted land, where their stake is now fixed, and are ready to defend their properties and their government against foreign invasion or domestic treason." The militia, composed in great part of the excellent materials just enumerated, is of the nominal strength of 140,000 men. Of these a fourth might take the field, without their absence seriously impeding the commerce and industry of the country. The Canadian arsenals are well supplied, and nearly eight thousand regular troops occupy the various garrisons. Quebec, with its strong fortifications and imposing citadel, may bid defiance to any force that could be brought against it from the States; important works have been erected upon the island of Montreal; Kingston and its adjacent forts would require a large army and corresponding naval force to subdue it; Toronto would give the invaders some trouble. Defensive works exist along the frontier of Lower Canada. In no way has the security of the colonies been neglected, or the possibility of a war overlooked. But there is yet one measure whose adoption the author of Hochelaga strongly urges, whose utility is obvious, and which we trust in due time to see carried out. This is the construction of a railroad, connecting the whole of British America; commencing at Halifax and extending, by Quebec, Montreal, Kingston, and Toronto, to Amherstburg and the far west. The essential portion of the line is that from Halifax to Quebec, by which, when the St Lawrence is closed by ice, troops might be forwarded in a couple of days to the latter city. In the spring of 1847, we are told, the canals will be completed which are to open the great lakes to our fleets. For summer time that may suffice. But the five months' winter must not be overlooked. And apart from the military view of the case, the benefit of such a railway would be enormous. "It will strengthen the intimacy between this splendid colony and the seat of government: the emigrant from home, and the produce from the west, will then pass through British waters and over British territories only, without enriching the coffers of a foreign state. The Americans, with their great mercantile astuteness, are making every effort to divert the trade of Canada into their channels, and to make us in every way dependent on them for our communications. The drawback bill, by which the custom-duties on foreign goods are refunded on their passing into our provinces, has already been attended with great success in obtaining for them a portion of our carrying trade, especially during the winter, when our great highway of the St Lawrence is closed."

The estimated cost of the railway, as far as Quebec, is three millions sterling—a sum far too large to be raised by private means in the colony. The advantages would be manifold, and a vast impulse would be given to the prosperity of Canada. The Canadians are anxious to see the scheme carried out, but they look to this country for aid. As one means of repaying the expenses of construction, it has been proposed that tracts of land along the line of road should be granted to the company: the railway once completed, these would speedily become of great value. The engineering difficulties are stated to be very slight.

This proposed railway brings us back to Quebec, whence we have been decoyed sooner than we intended, by the discussion of Canada's military defences. We sincerely wish that these may never be needed; that no clouds may again overshadow our relations with the States, and that, should such arise, they may promptly and amicably be dissipated. In disputes and discussions with the great American republic, this country has ever shown itself yielding; far too much so, if such pliancy encourages to further encroachment. But if we are at last met in a good spirit, if our forbearance and facility are read aright, it will be some compensation to Great Britain for having more than once ceded what she might justly have maintained. We shall not at present enter into the subject, or investigate how far certain English governments have been justified in relinquishing to American clamour, and for the sake of peace, tracts of territory which it would have been more dignified to retain, even by the strong hand. Insignificant though these concessions may individually have appeared, their sum is important. Were evidence of that fact wanting, we should find it in the book before us.

"Extensive though may be this splendid province of Canada, it is yet very different indeed from what it originally was. In the fourteenth year of the reign of George the Third, the boundaries of the province of Quebec, as it was then called, were defined by an act of the Imperial Parliament. By that act it included a great extent of what is now New England, and the whole of the country between the state of Pennsylvania, the river Ohio and the Mississipi, north to the Hudson's Bay territory, where now a great portion of the rich and flourishing Western States add their strength to the neighbouring republic. By gradual encroachments on the one hand, and concessions on the other, by the misconstruction of treaties and division of boundaries, have these vast and valuable tracts of country been separated from the British empire."

England has the reputation of holding her own with a firm and tenacious grasp; and by foreign rivals it is imputed to her as a crime that she is greedy and aggressive, more apt to take with both hands, than to give up with either. If such be really the general character of her policy, in North America she has strangely relaxed it. None, it is true, not even our kinsmen beyond the Atlantic, highly as they estimate their own weight and prowess, will suspect this country of giving way from other motives than a wish to remain on amicable terms with a relative and a customer. But such considerations must not be allowed undue influence. It would be unworthy the British character to fly to arms for a pique or a bauble; it would be still more degrading to submit patiently to a systematic series of encroachments. Unquestionably, had France stood towards America in the same position that we do, with respect to Canada, and if America had pursued with France the same course that she has done with us, there would long since have been broken heads between Frenchmen and Yankees; probably at this very moment the tricolor and the stars and stripes would have been buffeting each other by sea and land. We do not set up France as an example to this country in that particular. We are less sensitive than our Gallic neighbours, and do not care to injure or peril substantial interests by excessive punctiliousness. But there is a point at which forbearance must cease. Governments have patched up disputes, and made concessions, through fear of complicating their difficulties, and of incurring blame for plunging the country into a war. The country has looked on, if not approvingly, at least passively; and, the critical moment past, has borne no malice, and let bygones be bygones. But if war became necessary, the people of England would, whilst deploring that necessity, enter upon it cheerfully, and feel confident of its result. There must be no more boundary questions trumped up, no more attempts to chip pieces off our frontier; or, strong as the desire is to keep friends with Brother Jonathan, something serious will ensue. Meanwhile, and in case of accidents, it is proper and prudent to keep our bayonets bright, and to put bolts and bars upon the gates of Canada.

In Quebec, our Hochelagian friend seems greatly to have enjoyed himself. Judging from his account, it must be a pleasant place and eligible residence. Such quadrilling and polkaing, and riding and sleighing—picnics in the summer to the ChaudiÈre falls and other beautiful places, fishing-parties to Lake Beaufort in the fine Canadian autumn, snow-shoing in the winter, fun and merriment at all seasons. In the Terpsichorean divertisements above cited, our author—being, as already observed, obese and elderly—took no share, but looked on good-humouredly, and slily noted the love-passages between the handsome English captains and pretty Canadian girls. The latter are most attractive. Brought out young, and mixing largely in society, they are not very deeply read, but are exceedingly loveable, and possess an indescribable charm of manner. Owing probably to the extremes of heat and cold in Canada, beauty is there less durable than in the mother country. Early matured, it speedily fades. The fair Canadians make good use of the interval, and find it abundantly long to play havoc with the hearts of the other sex. The English officers are particularly susceptible to their fascinations, and many marry in Canada; as do also a large proportion of the English merchants who go over there. The style of dress of these seductive damsels is simple, but tasteful. In winter, of course, they are furred to the eyes, as a protection from the piercing cold, which rivals that of Siberia. Muffed and gauntleted, well packed in bear and buffalo skins, they are driven about in sledges by their male friends, who wear huge fur caps, flapped over the ears, enormous blanket or buffalo coats, jack-boots, moose-skin moccasins, and other contrivances equally inelegant and comfortable. The extreme dryness of the air renders the cold much more endurable than might be supposed. The sun shines brightly, the atmosphere is crisp and exhilarating; there is rarely much wind. Under these circumstances, the thermometer may go down, as it frequently does, to thirty or forty degrees below zero, without any serious inconvenience or suffering being felt. When a gale comes during the cold season, the effect is very different. Our author tells us of a certain Sunday, "when the thermometer was at thirty degrees below zero, and a high wind blew at the same time. The effect, in many respects, was not unlike that of intense heat; the sky was very red about the setting sun, and deep blue elsewhere; the earth and river were covered with a thin haze, and the tin cross and spires, and the new snow, shone with almost unnatural brightness; dogs went mad from the cold and want of water; metal exposed to the air blistered the hand, as if it had come out of a fire; no one went out of doors but from necessity, and those who did, hurried along with their fur-gloved hands over their faces, as if to guard against an atmosphere infected with the plague; for as the icy wind touched the skin, it scorched it like a blaze. But such a day as this occurs only once in many years."

There is tolerable fishing and shooting around Quebec; trout in abundance, salmon within five-and-twenty miles, snipe and woodcock, hare and partridge. Angling, however, is rendered almost as unpleasant an operation for the fisher as for the fish, by the mosquitoes, which abound in the summer months, and are extremely troublesome in country places, though they do not venture into towns. To get good shooting it is necessary to go a considerable distance. But the grand object of the Canadian chase is the enormous moose-deer, which grows to the height of seven feet and upwards, and is sometimes fierce and dangerous. In the month of February, our author and a military friend started on a moose-hunting expedition, which lasted six days, and ended in the slaughter of two fine specimens. They were guided by four Indians, belonging to a remnant of the Huron tribe, settled at the village of Sorette, near Quebec; a degenerate race, mostly with a cross of the French Canadian in their blood, idle, dirty, covetous, and especially drunken. There are other domesticated Indians in Canada who bear a higher character. During the insurrection, a party of rebels having approached the Indian village of Caughrawaga, the warriors of the tribe hastily armed themselves, and sallied forth to attack them. Taken by surprise, the insurgents were made prisoners, bound with their own sashes, and conveyed to Montreal jail. The victors were of the once powerful and ferocious tribe of the Six Nations. Their chief told the English general commanding, that, if necessary, he would bring him, within four-and-twenty hours, the scalps of every inhabitant of the neighbourhood. None of the Red men's prisoners had been injured.

The moose-hunting guides were of a very different stamp to the brave, loyal, and humane Indians of Caughrawaga. They were most disgusting and sensual ruffians, eating themselves torpid, and constantly manoeuvring to get at the brandy bottle. As guides, they proved tolerably efficient. The account of the snow houses they constructed for the night, and of their proceedings in the "bush," is highly interesting. Large fires were lighted in the sleeping cabins, but they neither melted the snow nor kept out the intense cold. "About midnight I awoke, fancying that some strong hand was grasping my shoulders: it was the cold. The fire blazed away brightly, so close to our feet that it singed our robes and blankets; but at our heads diluted spirits froze into a solid mass." Another curious example is given of the violence of Canadian cold. A couple of houses were burned, and "the flames raged with fury in the still air, but did not melt the hard thick snow on the roof till it fell into the burning ruins. The water froze in the engines; hot water was then obtained, and as the stream hissed off the fiery rafters, the particles fell frozen into the flames below." A sharp climate this! but in spite of it and of various inconveniences and hardships, the hunters reached the ravagÉ or moose-yard, bagged their brace of deer, and returned to Quebec, satisfied with their expedition, still better pleased at having it over, and fully convinced that once of that sort of thing is enough for a lifetime.

From Quebec to Montreal, up the St Lawrence, in glorious midsummer weather, our traveller takes us, in a great American river-steamer, like a house upon the water, with a sort of upper story built upon deck, and a promenade upon its roof, gliding past green slopes and smiling woodlands, neat country-houses and white cottages, and fertile fields, in which the habitans, as the French Canadian peasants are called, are seen at work, enlivening their toil by their national song of La Claire Fontaine, and by other pleasant old ditties, first sung, centuries ago, on the flowery banks of the sunny Loire. Truly there is something delightful and affecting in the simple, harmless, contented life of these French Canadians, in their clinging to old customs—their very costume is that of the first settlers—and to old superstitions, in their unaffected piety and gentle courtesy. They do not "progress," they are not "go-a-head;" of education they have little; they are neither "smart" nor "spry;" but they are virtuous and happy. Knowing nothing of the world beyond La belle Canada, they have no desires beyond a tranquil life of labour in their modest farms and peaceful homesteads.

Montreal is a handsome bustling town, with a prosperous trade and metropolitan aspect, and combines the energy and enterprise of an American city with the solidity of an English one. In size, beauty, and population, it has made astonishing strides within the last few years. It owes much to the removal thither of the seat of government, more still to a first-rate commercial position and to the energy of its inhabitants. Its broad and convenient stone wharf is nearly a mile in length; its public buildings are large and numerous, more so than is necessary for its present population of fifty thousand persons, and evidently built in anticipation of a great and speedy increase. The most important in size, and the largest in the New World, is the French cathedral, within which, we are told, ten thousand persons can at one time kneel. The people of Montreal are less sociable than those of Quebec; the entertainments are more showy but less agreeable. Party feeling runs high; the elections are frequently attended with much excitement and bitterness; occasional collisions take place between the English, Irish, and French races. Employment is abundant, luxury considerable, plenty every where.

It was during his journey from Montreal to Kingston, performed principally in steam-boats, that the author of Hochelaga first had the felicity of setting foot on the soil of the States. Happening to mention that he had never before enjoyed that honour, a taciturn, sallow-looking gentleman on board the steamer, who wore a broad-brimmed white hat, smoked perpetually, but never spoke, waited till he saw him fairly on shore, and then removed the cigar from his mouth and broke silence. "'I reckon, stranger,' was his observation, 'you have it to say now that you have been in a free country.' It was afterwards discovered that this enthusiast for 'free' countries was a planter from Alabama, and that, to the pleasures of his tour, he united the business of inquiring for runaway slaves." On this occasion, however, the singular advantage of treading republican ground was luxuriated in by our traveller but for a very brief time. He had disembarked only to stretch his legs, and returning on board, proceeded to Lake Ontario and to Kingston—an uncomfortable-looking place, with wide dreary streets, at the sides of which the grass grows. Nevertheless, it has some trade and an increasing population—the latter rather Yankeefied, from the proximity to, and constant intercourse with, the States. They "guess" a few, and occasionally speak through the nose more than is altogether becoming in British subjects and loyal Canadians, both of which, however, they unquestionably are. Kingston is a favourite residence with retired officers of the English army and navy. The necessaries of life are very cheap; shooting and fishing good; and for those who love boating, the inland ocean of Ontario spreads its broad blue waters, enlivened by a host of steam and sailing vessels, fed by numerous streams, and supplying the dwellers on its banks with fish of varied species and peculiar excellence. The majority of emigrants from the mother country settle in the lake districts, where labour is well remunerated and farmers' profits are good. But the five-and-twenty thousand who annually arrive, are as a drop of water in the ocean; they are imperceptible in that vast extent of country. Here and there, it is true, one finds a tolerably well-peopled district. This is the case in the vicinity of the Bay of QuintÉ, a narrow arm of Lake Ontario, eighty miles in length, and in many places not more than one broad. "On its shores the forests are rapidly giving way to thriving settlements, some of them in situations of very great beauty."

To be in Canada without visiting Niagara, would be equivalent to going to Rome without entering St Peter's. As in duty bound, our traveller betook himself to the Falls; and he distinguishes himself from many of those who have preceded him thither by describing naturally and unaffectedly their aspect, and the impression they made upon him. The "everlasting fine water privilege," as the Americans call this prodigious cataract, did not at first strike him with awe; but the longer he gazed and listened, the greater did his admiration and astonishment become. Seated upon the turf, near Table Rock, whence the best view is obtained, he stared long and eagerly at the great wonder, until he was dragged away to inspect the various accessories and smaller marvels which hungry cicerrones insist upon showing, and confiding tourists think it incumbent upon them to visit. Cockneyism and bad taste have found their way even to Niagara. On both the English and the American side, museum and camera-obscura, garden, wooden monument, and watch-tower abound; and boys wander about, distributing Mosaic puffs of pagodas and belvideres, whence the finest possible views are to be obtained. Niagara, according to these disinterested gentry and their poetical announcements, must be seen from all sides; from above and from below, sideways and even from behind. The traveller is rowed to the foot of the Falls, or as near to it as possible, getting not a little wet in the operation; he is then seduced to the top of the pagoda, twenty-five cents being charged for the accommodation; then hurried off to Iris island, where the Indians, in days long gone by, had their burying-ground; and, finally, having been inducted into an oil-cloth surtout, and a pair of hard, dirty shoes, he is compelled to shuffle along a shingly path cut out of the cliff, within the curve described by the falling water—thus obtaining a posterior view of the cataract. Chilled with cold, soaked and blinded by the spray, deafened with the noise, sliding over numerous eels, which wind themselves, like wreathing snakes, round his ankles and into his shoes, he undergoes this last infliction; and is then let loose to wander where he listeth, free from the monotonous vulgarity of guides and the wearisome babble of visitors, and having acquired the conviction that he might as well have saved himself all this plague and trouble, for that, "as there is but one perfect view for a painting, so there is but one for Niagara. See it from Table Rock: gaze thence upon it for hours, days if you like, and then go home. As for the Rapids, Cave of the Winds, Burning Springs, &c., &c., you might as well enter into an examination of the gilt figures on the picture frame, as waste your time on them."

With the first volume of Hochelaga, the author concludes his Canadian experiences, and rambles into the States—beyond a doubt the most ticklish territory a literary tourist can venture upon. Of the very many books that have been written concerning America, not one did we ever hear of that was fortunate enough to find approval in the eyes of Americans. And we are entirely at a loss to conjecture what sort of notice of them and their country would prove satisfactory to these very difficult gentry. None, we apprehend, that fell short of unqualified praise; none that did not depreciate all other nations to their greater glorification, and set America and her institutions on that pinnacle of perfection which her self-satisfied sons persuade themselves they have attained. To please their pampered palates, praise must be unlimited; no hints of positive deficiency, or even of possible improvement, must chill the glowing eulogium. Censure, even conditional commendation, they cannot stomach. Admit that they are brave and hospitable, energetic and industrious, intelligent and patriotic; it will advance you little in their good graces, unless you also aver that they are neither braggarts nor jealous; that, as a nation, they are honest and honourable; as individuals, models of polished demeanour and gentlemanly urbanity. Nay, when you have done all that, the chances are that some red-hot planter from the southern States calls upon you to drink Success to slavery, and the Abolitionists to the tar-barrel! The author of Hochelaga is aware of this weak point of the American character: he likes the Americans; considers them a wonderful people; praises them more than we ever heard them praised, save by themselves; and yet, because he cannot shut his eyes to their obvious failings, he feels that he is ruined in their good opinion. On his way to Saratoga, he fell in with a Georgian gentleman and lady, pleasant people, who begged him frankly to remark upon any thing in the country and its customs which appeared to him unusual or strange. He did so, and his criticisms were taken in good part till he chanced upon slavery. This was the sore point. Luckily there was a heavy swell upon the lake, and the Georgian became sea-sick, which closed the discussion as it began to get stormy. With other Americans on board the steamer, our traveller sought opportunities of discoursing. He found them courteous and intelligent; with a good deal of superficial information, derived chiefly from newspaper reading; partial to the English, as individuals—but not as a nation; prone to judge of English institutions and manners from isolated and exceptional examples; to reason "on the state of the poor from the Andover workhouse: on the aristocracy, from the late Lord Hertford; on morality, from Dr Lardner." Every where he met with kindness and hospitality; but, on the other hand, he was not unfrequently disgusted by coarseness of manners, and compelled to smile at the utter want of tact which is an American characteristic, and which inherent defect education, travel, good-humour, and kind-heartedness, are insufficient to eradicate or neutralise in the natives of the Union. "A friend, in giving me hints of what was best worth seeing in the Capitol at Washington, said, 'there are some very fine pictures. Oh, I beg pardon; I mean that there is a splendid view from the top of the building.' I knew perfectly well that those paintings, which his good-nature rebuked him for having incautiously mentioned, represented the surrender of Burgoyne, and other similar scenes—in reality about as heart-rending to me as a sketch of the battle of Hexham would be. To this day, I admire my friend's kind intentions more than his tact in carrying them out."

The expectoration, chewing, and other nastinesses indulged in by many classes of Americans, and which have proved such fruitful themes for the facetiousness of book-writers, are very slightly referred to by the author of Hochelaga, who probably thinks that enough has already been said on such sickening subjects. He attributes some of these peculiarities to a sort of general determination to alter and improve on English customs. In driving, the Americans keep the right side of the road instead of the left; in eating, they reverse the uses of the knife and fork; perhaps it is the same spirit of opposition that prompts them to bolt their food dog-fashion and with railroad rapidity, instead of imitating the cleanly decorum with which Englishmen discuss their meals. Talking of knives—in most of the country inns they are broad, round, and blunt at the point, in order that they may be used as spoons, and even thrust half-way down the throats of tobacco-chewing republicans, who do not hesitate to cut the butter, and help themselves to salt, with the same weapon that has just been withdrawn from the innermost recesses of their mouth, almost of their gullet. In America, people seem to be for ever in a hurry; every thing is done "on the rush," and as if it were merely the preliminary to something else much more important, to which it is essential to get as speedily as possible. At Boston our traveller was put into a six-bedded room, the only empty one in the hotel. Three of the beds were engaged by Americans. "I as fortunate to awaken just as the American gentlemen came in; for it gave me an opportunity of seeing a dispatch in going to rest rivalling that in the dinner department. From the time the door opened, there appeared to be nothing but a hop-step-and-jump into bed, and then a snore of the profoundest repose. Early in the morning, when these gentlemen awoke from their balmy slumbers, there was another hop-step-and-jump out of bed, and we saw no more of them." We are happy to learn, however, that a great change has of late years been wrought in the coarser and more offensive points of American manners and habits—chiefly, we are assured, by the satirical works of English writers. Much yet remains to be done, as is admitted in the book before us, where it is certain that as good a case as possible, consistent with truth, has been made out for the Americans. "Even now I defy any one to exaggerate the horrors of chewing, and its odious consequences; the shameless selfishness which seizes on a dish, and appropriates the best part of its contents, if the plate cannot contain the whole; and the sullen silence at meal times." The class to which this passage refers is a very numerous one, and far from the lowest in the country—as regards position and circumstances, that is to say. Its members are met with in every steam-boat and railway carriage, at boarding-houses and public dinner tables. They have dollars in plenty, wear expensive clothes, and live on the fat of the land; but their manners are infinitely worse than those of any class with which a traveller in England can possibly be brought in contact. Most of them, doubtless, have risen from very inferior walks of life. Their circumstances have improved, themselves have remained stationary, chiefly from the want of an established standard of refinement to strain up to. It would be as absurd as illiberal to assert that there are no well-bred, gentlemanly men in the States; but it is quite certain that they are the few, the exceptions, insufficient in number to constitute a class. Elegance and republicanism are sworn foes; the latter condemns what the first depends upon. An aristocracy, an army, an established church, mould, by their influence and example, the manners of the masses. The Americans decline purchasing polish at such a price. The day will come when they shall discover their error, and cease to believe that the rule of the many constitutes the perfection of liberty and happiness. At present, although they eagerly snatch at the few titles current in their country, and generals and honourables are every where in exceeding abundance, the only real eminence amongst them is money. Its eager and unremitting pursuit leaves little time for the cultivation of those tastes which refine and improve both mind and manners. Nevertheless, as above mentioned, there is an improvement in the latter item; and certain gross inelegancies, which passed unnoticed half a score years ago, now draw down public censure upon their perpetrators. "A Trollope! a Trollope!" was the cry upon a certain evening at the Baltimore theatre, when one of the sovereign people fixed his feet upon the rail of the seat before him, and stared at the performance through his upraised legs. However they may sneer at "benighted Britishers," and affect to pity and look down upon their oppressed and unhappy condition, the Americans secretly entertain a mighty deference for this country and the opinion of its people. The English press is looked upon with profound respect; a leading article in the Times is read as an oracle, and carries weight even when it exasperates. And with all his assumed superiority, the American is never displeased, but the contrary, at being mistaken for an Englishman. The stinging missiles fired from this side of the Atlantic at Pennsylvanian repudiators had no small share in bringing about the recent tardy payment of interest. The satire of Sydney Smith spoke more loudly to American ears than did the voices of conscience and common honesty.

The old Hibernian boast, revived and embalmed by Moore in a melody, that a fair and virtuous maiden, decked with gems both rich and rare, might travel through Ireland unprotected and unmolested, may now be made by America. So, at least, the author of Hochelaga instructs us, avouching his belief that a lady of any age and unlimited attractions may travel through the whole Union without a single annoyance, but aided, on the contrary, by the most attentive and unobtrusive civility. And many American ladies do so travel; their own propriety of behaviour, and the chivalry of their countrymen, for sole protectors. The best seat in coach and at table, the best of every thing, indeed, is invariably given up to them. This practical courtesy to the sex is certainly an excellent point in the American character. A humorous exemplification is given of it in Hochelaga. An Englishman at the New York theatre, having engaged, paid for, and established himself in a snug front corner of a box, thought himself justified in retaining it, even when summoned by an American to yield it to a lady. A discussion ensued. The pit inquired its cause; the lady's companion stepped forward and said, "There is an Englishman here who will not give up his place to a lady." Whereupon the indignant pit swarmed up into the box, gently seized the offender, and carried him out of the theatre, neither regarding nor retaliating his kicks, blows, and curses, set him carefully down upon the steps, handed him his hat, his opera-glass, and the price of his ticket, and shut the door in his face. "The shade of the departed Judge Lynch," concludes the narrator of the anecdote, "must have rejoiced at such an angelic administration of his law!"

On his route from New York to Boston, the Yankee capital, our author made sundry observations on his fellow travellers by railway and steam-boat. They were very numerous, and the fares were incredibly low. There was also a prodigious quantity of luggage, notwithstanding that many American gentlemen travel light, with their linen and brushes in their great-coat pocket. Others, on the contrary, have an addiction to very large portmanteaus of thin strong wood, bound with iron, nailed with brass, initialed, double-locked and complicated, and possessing altogether a peculiarly cautious and knowing look, which would stamp them as American though they were encountered in Cabul or Algeria. Round the walls of the reading-room at the Boston hotel were hung maps of the States, the blue of the American territory thrusting itself up into the red of the English to the furthest line of the different disputed points. "At the top they were ornamented by some appropriate national design, such as the American eagle carrying the globe in its talons, with one claw stuck well into Texas, and another reaching nearly to Mexico."

A remarkably clean city is Boston, quite Dutch in its propriety, spotless in its purity; smoking in the streets is there prohibited, and chewing has fewer proselytes than in most parts of the States. It is one of the most ancient of American towns, having been founded within ten years after the landing of the first New England settlers. The anniversary of the day when

the 21st December 1620, is still celebrated at Plymouth, the earliest settlement of the pilgrim fathers. Thousands flock from Boston to assist at the ceremony. On the last anniversary, the author of Hochelaga was present. The proceedings of the day commenced with divine service, performed by Unitarian and Baptist ministers. This over, a marshal of the ceremonies proclaimed that the congregation were to form in procession and march to the place where the "Plymouth Rock" had been, there "to heave a sigh." The "heaving" having been accomplished with all due decorum and melancholy—barring that a few unprincipled individuals in the tail of the procession, fearing to be late for dinner, shirked the sighing and took a short cut to the hotel—the banquet, not the least important part of the day's business, commenced. The president sat in a chair which came over with the pilgrims in their ship, the Mayflower. Beside each plate were placed a few grains of dried maize—a memento of the first gift of the friendly natives to the exiles. The dinner went off with much order. A large proportion of the persons present were members of temperance societies, and drank no wine. The grand treat of the evening, at least to an Englishman, was the speechifying. The following resumÉ is given to us as containing the pith and substance of the majority of the speeches, which were all prepared for the occasion, and, of course, contained much the same thing. The orators usually commenced with "English persecution, continued with,—landing in the howling wilderness—icebound waters—pestilence—starvation—so on to foreign tyranny—successful resistance—chainless eagles—stars and stripes—glorious independence;—then; unheard of progress—wonderful industry—stronghold of Christianity—chosen people—refuge of liberty;—again; insults of haughty Albion—blazes of triumph—queen of the seas deposed for ever—Columbia's banner of victory floating over every thing—fire and smoke—thunder and lightning—mighty republic—boundless empire. When they came to the 'innumerable millions' they were to be a few years hence, they generally sat down greatly exhausted." Mr Everett, the late American minister in London, was present at this dinner, and replied with ability, eloquence, and good feeling, to a speech in which the president had made a neatly turned and friendly reference to Great Britain.

We prefer the American volume of Hochelaga to the Canadian one, although both are highly interesting. But, as he proceeds, the author gains in vivacity and boldness. There is a deal of anecdote and lively sketching in his account of the States; there are also some novel opinions and sound reasoning. The chapter on the prospects of America affords themes for much curious speculation concerning the probable partition of the great republic. The discussion of the subject is, perhaps, a little premature; although our author affirms his belief that many now living will not die till they have seen monarchy introduced into the stronghold of republicanism, and a king governing the slave states of North America. He recognises, in the United States, the germs of three distinct nations, the North, the West, and the South. Slavery and foreign warfare, especially the former, are to be the apples of discord, the wedges to split the now compact mass. The men of the North, enlightened and industrious, commercial and manufacturing, are strenuous advocates of peace. They have shown that they do not fear war; they it was who chiefly fought the great fight of American independence; but peace is essential to their prosperity, and they will not lightly forego its advantages. This will sooner or later form the basis of differences between them and the Western States, whose turbulent sons, rapid in their increase, adventurous and restless, ever pushing forward, like some rolling tide, deeper and deeper into the wilderness, and ever seeking to infringe on neighbours' boundaries, covet the rich woods of Canada, the temperate shores of Oregon, the fertile plains of California. They have dispossessed, almost exterminated, the aborigines; the wild beasts of the forest have yielded and fled before them, the forest itself has made way for their towns and plantations. Growing in numbers and power with a rapidity unparalleled in the world's history, expansion and invasion are to them a second nature, a devouring instinct. This unrestrained impulse will sooner or later urge them to aggressions and produce a war. This they do not fear or object to; little injury can be done to them; but the Northern States, to whose trade war is ruin, will not be passively dragged into a conflict on account of the encroaching propensities of their western brethren. These differences of interests will lead to disputes, ill blood, and finally to separation.

Between South and North, the probabilities of a serious, and no very distant rupture, are strong and manifest. "Slavery" and "Abolition" will be the battle-cries of the respective parties. It may almost be said that the fight has already begun, at least on one side. An avowed abolitionist dare not venture into the South. There are laws for his chastisement, and should those be deemed too lenient, there are plenty of lawless hands outstretched to string him to a tree. A deputy from South Carolina openly declared in the House of Representatives at Washington, that if they caught an abolitionist in their State, they would hang him without judge or jury. A respectable Philadelphian and ardent abolitionist confessed to us, a short time ago, not without some appearance of shame at the state of things implied by the admission, that it would be as much as his life was worth to venture into certain slave-holding states. Hitherto the pro-slavery men have had the best of it; the majority of presidents of the Union have been chosen from their candidates, they have succeeded in annexing Texas, and latterly they have struck up an alliance with the West, which holds the balance between the South and the North, although, at the rate it advances, it is likely soon to outweigh them both. But this alliance is rotten, and cannot endure; the Western men are no partizans of slavery. Meantime, the abolitionists are active; they daily become more weary of having the finger of scorn pointed at them, on account of a practice which they neither benefit by nor approve. Their influence and numbers daily increase; in a few years they will be powerfully in the ascendant, they will possess a majority in the legislative chambers, and vote the extinction of slavery. To this, it is greatly to be feared, the fiery Southerns will not submit without an armed struggle. "Then," says the author of Hochelaga, "who can tell the horrors that will ensue? The blacks, urged by external promptings to rise for liberty, the furious courage and energy of the whites trampling them down, the assistance of the free states to the oppressed, will drive the oppressors to desperation: their quick perception will tell them that their loose republican organization cannot conduct a defence against such odds; and the first popular military leader who has the glory of a success, will become dictator. This, I firmly believe, will be the end of the pure democracy."

May such sinister predictions never be realised! Of the instability of American institutions, we entertain no doubt; and equally persuaded are we, that so vast a country, the interests of whose inhabitants are in many respects so conflicting, cannot remain permanently united under one government. But we would fain believe, that a severance may be accomplished peaceably, and without bloodshed; that the soil which has been converted from a wilderness to a garden by Anglo-Saxon industry and enterprise, may never be ensanguined by civil strife, or desolated by the dissensions and animosities of her sons.