with broad-brim hats and big linen over-sacks; ladies, with still larger (oh, how large!) crinolines,”—are every where peregrinating this great and glorious country of ours, in the pursuit of pleasure, health or business. Such are the present facilities for traveling through the United States, both by steamboat and rail-car, that a great deal may be seen for a little money.

Business called the writer away, but health and pleasure will not fail to claim an interest in the journey. The country everywhere is charmingly beautiful, but thus far in my journey I have seen no portion that excels our loved State of Iowa. I have just traveled all through Southern Wisconsin and Northern Illinois, and across Michigan, and am free to say that if any State may boast of

"The prodigality of nature,

The balm, the bliss, the beauty and the bloom,
The bounteous providence in every feature,"

that State is Iowa, with her broad and excessively fertile prairies, cerulean canopy, sky-blue pools, music breathing groves, pearly showers, atmosphere of perfume, lovely rivers,

"Banks whereon the wild thyme blows;
Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows;
Quite over-canopied with wild woodbine,
With sweet musk roses and with eglantine."

Ah, Iowa is indeed a State of which her citizens may well be proud. Her vast fields of Indian corn, of wheat, oats, barley, &c., are unrivaled.

I may say that my journey hither has been a pleasant one. The weather was just comfortable; neither too warm nor too cool. At McGregor I found the people awake to the importance of constructing the railroad westward to St. Charles, and there appeared no doubt that the work would be pushed forward with vigor. The town,—no, city,--of McGregor has grown wonderfully the present season. Those ancient bluffs, which old Mississippi has failed to demolish, are giving way

to Anglo-Saxon encroachment, and are making room for the homes of pioneer settlers and for the marts of commerce.

Crossing over the river to Prairie du Chien, the scene of Gen. Zachary Taylor's exploits during the Blackhawk war, I took a look at the old town. It was here that Fort Crawford was built, which is now in a dilapidated condition. Here is still standing the house in which Gen. Taylor lived and on which he wrought with his own hands when constructed; and it was from this home that Jefferson Davis stole the General's daughter, and fled with her in a skiff down the Mississippi.

Stepping into one of the new and beautiful passenger cars of the Milwaukee and Mississippi Railroad Company, a few hours ride landed me safely in Milwaukee. Finishing my business there, I next visited Janesville. Here I found a thriving city full of activity and energy; and here I met some old Vermont friends.-the Judges Prichard, and the Hon. J. W. D. Parker. From Janesville I proceeded to Beloit. This is a lovely place, but oh how different are the people from those of Janesville,-quiet, staid and orderly, but lacking the Yankee go-ahead-a-tive-ness of their up-river neighbors.

Leaving Beloit I soon found myself in Chicago, -that same noisy, bustling, reckless, dirty Chicago we have read of, "only a little more so." A ride of three hundred miles over the Michigan Central Railroad brings me to Detroit.

In Detroit I find an old friend of early days, Washington A. Bacon, who long ago left the green hills of Vermont and took up his abode in this metropolis of the Wolverines. He and his excellent wife, with their son and daughter, are now living in affluence and enjoying the fruits of early industry and the reward of a well-spent life.

Mr. Bacon has seen Detroit grow from a village of four thousand people to a city of one hundred thousand souls. The site on which the city is

built is one of the finest in the world. It is on the west bank of the straits that lead from Lake St. Clair to Lake Erie. The ground rises gently to a height of nearly one hundred feet above the river, forming a ridge parallel to it. It is on this swell of land that Detroit is built. The buildings are mostly of brick, neat and substantial. Jefferson Avenue, a beautiful street one hundred and twenty feet wide, passes lengthwise on this ridge, in a direct line, for many miles. At the highest point. and about in the center of business, Woodward Avenue, of like dimensions, crosses Jefferson Avenue at right angles.

My friend Bacon took me across the river (here about a mile wide) to Windsor on the Canadian shore, a small pretty place now building up at the terminus of the Great Western railway. After "viewing the landscape o'er," we crossed back on the railroad transit boat, on which we made the acquaintance of P. Homan, Esq., the affable superintendent of the Canada road. He was once of the editorial fraternity and would not admit that he had gone up higher by becoming a railroad

manager.

On Fort Street, in Detroit, the dwelling house of Gen. Cass was pointed out, -a plain and unpretending edifice, such as becomes a democratic pioneer, but hardly such as one would expect for a man of Gen. C.'s great wealth. His farm once comprised nearly half of the ground on which the city of Detroit now stands. In the same block with Gen. Cass is the residence of Zachary Chandler, his Republican successor in the U. S. Senate.

A few of the old French settlers still remain. So opposed to progress were they, these "old fogies," that the opening through their lands of Jefferson Avenue was resisted by them with guns and pistols. Some of them, in the building and spread of the city, had large fortunes thrust upon them.

It is the boast of Detroit people that no city in

the world is supplied with so good water as theirs. The water is taken from the Strait or River which is here very deep and clear, and after being forced into a reservoir, is distributed to every part of the city. Battle grounds were pointed out to me, and tales were told of skirmishes with Pontiac and other war chiefs, of which I have not time to write. Suffice it to say, Detroit, in every respect. far exceeds my expectations, and may be set down as one of the most lovely cities in all the West.

A. B. F. H.

NEW YORK LETTER.

Editorial Correspondence of the Intelligencer.

When in Detroit I accepted the invitation of Capt. Langley to take passage on board his magnificent Lake steamer, the Mississippi, for Buffalo. The weather was fine, and the comforts of this floating palace made me feel very much at home. Leaving Detroit at eleven o'clock A. M., we were in Buffalo at four o'clock next morning.

Stepping on board the lightning express train of the N. Y. Central Railroad at six o'clock A. M., a ride of three hundred miles brought me to Albany at four o'clock, P. M., whence the steamer New World landed me safely in New York next morning. It is worthy of remark that, while the cars run full, but comparatively few people travel by water. The cars are crowded, warm and dusty; while on board the boats we have a cool atmosphere, and all the comforts of a first-class hotel.

New York is still New York. Lawlessness and violence, vice and crime, stalk forth by night and by day; and every year and month, even, this state of things grows worse. The city is governed by foreigners, -the dregs of all creation! With these facts before us the wonder is that the city is no worse off.

The all absorbing topic in every circle here, is the baby case" of Mrs. Cunningham, the comic.

and disgusting details of which have formed the staple of the newspapers far and near. I suppose the readers of the Intelligencer are already advised of the particulars, and I will not repeat them. I doubt if the annals of crime can show a parallel case to this. It is the most serio-comic farce that was ever played.

In addition to the Cunningham case, the record of New York the last week forms an array of wickedness that ought to startle any candid mind. First, comes the murder at the Sea View House. Navesink, on Saturday. by which the bar-tender of the house had his throat cut in his room by the book-keeper. They had been gambling during part of the night, and the former had won considerable money from the book-keeper, Donelly. which had been placed in his charge by one of the boarders.

The next murder is that which occurred on the same night at No. 3 Mulberry street, in a German bier haus, the victim being a young man by the name of Tompkins residing in Hoboken with his mother. The family are highly respected and the affliction is keenly felt. Several burglaries are reported, in one of which a grocer grappled with the robber and was shot and killed. In another case a man named Hartigan was attacked by a fellow laborer, knocked from a building, and falling twenty feet, was killed.

Besides these cases there were other fights and thefts in different parts of the city. I think that four murders in one week and three or four other attempts at murder, will establish a character for this city not at all enviable.

New York, August 10, 1867.

H.