with pine forest, and almost entirely without human hab. itations, excepting on the rail-way stations, where small colonies began to form themselves, trades were followed, and the meagre soil cultivated. At a few of these I alighted, and botanized in the wood, where I found several yellow orchises.

The amusement of the journey was in the carriage in which I sat, from a fat, jolly-looking gentleman in a cap and gray coat, in person not unlike a mealsack, upon which the head was set, round and movable as a top, and who talked politics, and poured out his vials of wrath against the late Tom Jefferson, president, and author of the "Declaration of Independence:" called him, in a loud voice, the worst of names, always turning himself as he did sc to a tall, very thin military man of a noble appearance, who sat on the other side of the carriage, and who seemed to be half amused by the fat man's ebullitions, although he endeavored to appease them. But it was like pouring oil upon fire.

"Sir!" exclaimed our fat gentleman, with a stentorian voice, on one occasion, while the train stood still, "sir, I say that if it had not been for Tom Jefferson, the whole Union would be five hundred years further advanced, and Carolina at least a thousand!"

"Oh! do you think so?" said the other, smiling.

"Yes, I say that Tom Jefferson was the worst man who has yet been placed at the head of a nation; he has done more mischief than all the presidents after him can do good!"

"Yet he drew up our Act of Independence!" said the thin gentleman.

"He stole it, sir!" exclaimed the fat one; "he stole it, stole it! I can prove to you that he did. There is," &c. And here followed proofs, and many observations and replies between the two gentlemen, which I could not exactly follow.

At length up sprung the fat gentleman, and grasping with both hands at two seats, stood before the thin one, exclaiming,

"Sir! I regard Tom Jefferson as the compound of every thing which is rascally, mean, wicked, dishonorable, &c., &c., &c., &c.-" the great flood of accusation continuing certainly for three minutes, and ending with, "yes, that is what I say, sir!"

"That is strong language, sir;" said the other, still calm, and half smiling.

"Sir!" again exclaimed the other, "Toin Jefferson was the cause of my father losing fifty thousand dollars, through the embargo!"

With these words he reseated himself, red in the face as a turkey-cock, and with an air as if to say that after that nothing could be said. A smile was on almost every countenance in the rail-way carriage; and when Tom Jefferson's enemy almost immediately after took his departure, the thin gentleman turned to me, saying, in his goodtempered, calm way,

"That settles it! Jefferson was certainly a bad man; but, in any case, he was a patriot."

A hundred young men, soldiers from Charleston, traveled by this train, on a visit to the Georgia militia in Macon. They were handsome, pleasant-looking, merry young fellows, who got out at every station to refresh themselves, and then hurried in again.

A couple of so-called Indian mounds, that is, ancient burial hills of the Indians, and which resemble our sepulchral mounds, excepting that they are larger and flatter at the top, and in which arms and weapons are found, were the only remarkable things we saw on the way.

At sunset we reached Macon. The country had now assumed another character; we saw verdant hills and valleys, and beautiful white country houses shining out upon the hills amid their gardens.

On all hands lay lofty trees; we drove over a couple of small rivers, with chocolate-hued water and wooded banks; the city lay, as it were, imbedded in wood. It looked young and romantic, half concealed in the valley, and half stretching itself out on the open hills. It took my fancy; I was glad to be there, and had, besides, a certain pleasure in finding myself here alone and unknown, and able to live at an inn. I engaged a room at a hotel, the "Washington House," where I found a remarkably handsome and kind landlady; had the pleasure of washing off the dust, putting on fresh linen, and drinking a glass of excellent milk, and then to be still, and contemplate the life and movement in the market-place, the largest in the city, and near to which the hotel stood.

Five-and-twenty years ago the ground on which the city stood, and the whole region around, was Indian territory and Indian hunting-ground. Where those wild dances were danced, and their wigwams stood, now stands Macon, with six thousand inhabitants, and shops and workshops, hotels and houses, and an annually increasing population; and in the middle of its great market stands Canova's Hebe in a fountain, dispensing water. The young militia of Carolina and Georgia paraded the streets and the market-place this evening by moonlight. All the windows were open, and the negro people poured out of the houses to see the young men march past with their

music.

I was up early the next morning, because it was glorious; the world looked young and fresh as morning, and I myself felt as fresh as it. I went out on a voyage of discovery with merely a couple of bananas in my "old man" (you know that I give my traveling-bag that appellation). All was as yet still in the city; every thing looked fresh and new. I had a foretaste of the young life of the West. The pale crescent moon sank slowly amid a violet-tinted mist, which wrapped the horizon in the west, but a heaven

Trees and grass

I walked along

of the most beautiful blue was above me. glittered with dew in the rising sunlight. streets planted with trees, and, leaving the city, found myself upon a broad high road, on each side of which lay a dense, dark forest. I walked on; all was hushed and silent, but my heart sang. That which I had wished for, and longed for through the whole of my youth; that which I seemed to myself to be more excluded from than any thing else, a living acquaintance with the manifold forms. of life, had now become mine, had become so in an unusual degree. Did I not now wander free-free as few could be, in the great, free New World, free to see and to become acquainted with whatever I chose? Was 1 not free and unfettered as a bird? My soul had wings, and the whole world was mine! Precisely because I am so alone, that I go so solitarily, relying on God's providence, through the great wide world, and become associate with it—precisely this it is which gives me such an unspeakable feeling of vigor and joy; and that I do not positively know whither I would go, or what I would do during my solitary wanderings; this makes me ever ready to set out on my journeys of discovery, and every thing within me be so particularly new and invigorating.

I was not, however, on this occasion, wholly without an object; I knew that at some distance from Macon there was a beautiful new cemetery, called Rose-hill Cemetery, and I was now bent upon finding it. In the mean time, as the road which I had taken seemed to lead down to the quiet sea, I determined to make inquiries after Rose Hill at a dwelling which I saw upon a height not far from the road. It was one of those white, well-built, and comfortable frame-houses which one so often sees in the rural districts of America. I knocked at the door, and it was opened, but by a person who almost shocked me: it was a young lady, tolerably handsome, but with an appearance of such a horridly bad temper that-it quite troubled me.

She looked thoroughly annoyed and worn out, and bade me, crossly enough, to go as far as the road went, or till it parted. I went, almost astonished, on so beautiful a morning, amid such beautiful, youthfully fresh scenes, to meet with so perfectly inharmonious a human temper. Ah! human feelings, dispositions, and tempers are every where the same, and can every where imbitter life-in every new paradise can close the gates of paradise. But sad impressions could not long remain in my mind this morning. I advanced onward along the high road, which now ascended a hill. On the top of this hill I could look around me, I thought. Arrived here, I saw an iron gate on my right hand, which led into a beautiful, well-kept park. I opened the gate without any difficulty, and was soon in a very beautiful park, the ground of which was undulating, through which wound roads and foot-paths, with lofty trees and groves on all hands, and beds of flowering, fragrant shrubs and plants. It was some time before I could see a single monument, before I discovered that I really was in the place consecrated to death, and that my little traveling fairy had faithfully conducted me to my goal, Rose-hill Cemetery.

Wandering on through the silent, solitary park, I came to the banks of a river which ran in gentle windings between banks as beautiful, and as youthfully verdant as we, in our youth, imagine the Elysian Fields. On my side. of the river I beheld white marble monuments glancing forth from amid the trees, speaking of the city of the dead. The trees here and there bent over the water. Large, splendid butterflies, the names of which I did not know, flew softly with fluttering wings backward and forward over the stream, from one bank to the other. I thought of the words, "And he showed me a clear river of living water," &c. And the whole scene was to me, at the same time, a living symbol of the most beautiful presentiments of the human race regarding the mystery of death. Here