From Bermuda I took a sailing vessel to New York, in company with a rather large assortment of potatoes and onions. I had declared during my unlucky voyage from Kingston to Cuba that no consideration should again tempt me to try a sailing vessel, but such declarations always go for nothing. A man in his misery thinks much of his misery; but as soon as he is out of it it is forgotten, or becomes matter for mirth. Of even a voyage in a sailing vessel one may say that at some future time it will perhaps be pleasant to remember that also. And so I embarked myself along with the potatoes and onions on board the good ship \'Henrietta.\'

Indeed, there is no other way of getting from Bermuda to New York; or of going anywhere from Bermuda—except to Halifax and St. Thomas, to which places a steamer runs once a month. In going to Cuba I had been becalmed, starved, shipwrecked, and very nearly quaranteened. In going to New York I encountered only the last misery. The doctor who boarded us stated that a vessel had come from Bermuda with a sick man, and that we must remain where we were till he had learnt what was the sick man\'s ailment. Our skipper, who knew the vessel in question, said that one of their crew had been drunk in Bermuda for two or three days, and had not yet worked it off. But the doctor called again in the course of the day, and informed us that it was intermittent fever. So we were allowed to pass. It does seem strange that sailing vessels should be subjected to such annoyances. I hardly think that one of the mail steamers going into New York would be delayed because there was a case of intermittent fever on board another vessel from Liverpool.

It is not my purpose to give an Englishman\'s ideas of the United States, or even of New York, at the fag end of a volume treating about the West Indies. On the United States I should like to write a volume, seeing that the government and social life of the people there—of that people who are our children—afford the most interesting phenomena which we find as to the new world;—the best means of prophesying, if I may say so, what the world will next be, and what men will next do. There, at any rate, a new republic has become politically great and commercially active; whereas all other new republics have failed in those points, as in all others. But this cannot be attempted now.

From New York I went by the Hudson river to Albany, and on by the New York Central Railway to Niagara; and though I do not mean to make any endeavour to describe that latter place as such descriptions should be—and doubtless are and have been—written, I will say one or two words which may be of use to any one going thither.

The route which I took from New York would be, I should think, the most probable route for Englishmen. And as travellers will naturally go up the Hudson river by day, and then on from Albany by night train,* seeing that there is nothing to be seen at Albany, and that these trains have excellent sleeping accommodation—a lady, or indeed a gentleman, should always take a double sleeping-berth, a single one costs half a dollar, and a double one a dollar. This outlay has nothing to do with the travelling ticket;—it will follow that he, she, or they will reach Niagara at about 4 a.m.

    [*It would be well, however, to visit Trenton Falls by the way, which I did not do. They are but a short distance from Utica, a town on this line of railway.]

In that case let them not go on to what is called the Niagara Falls station, but pass over at a station called the Suspension Bridge—very well known on the road—to the other or Canada side of the water, and thence go to the Clifton Hotel. There can be no doubt as to this being the site at which tourists should stop. It is one of those cases in which to see is to be sure. But if the traveller be carried on to Niagara Falls station, he has a long and expensive journey to make back; and the United States side of the water will be antagonistic to him in doing so. The ticket from Albany to Niagara cost me six dollars; the carriage from Niagara to the Clifton Hotel cost me five. It was better to pay the five than to remain where I was; but it would have been better still to have saved them. I mention this as passengers to the Falls have no sort of intimation that they should get out at the Suspension Bridge; though they are all duly shaken out of their berths, and inquired of whether or not they be going west.

Nothing ever disappointed me less than the Falls of Niagara—but my raptures did not truly commence for the first half-day. Their charms grow upon one like the conversation of a brilliant man. Their depth and breadth and altitude, their music, colour, and brilliancy are not fully acknowledged at the first moment. It may be that my eye is slow; but I can never take in to its full enjoyment any view or any picture at the first glance. I found this to be especially the case at Niagara. It was only by long gazing and long listening that I was able to appreciate the magnitude of that waste of waters.

My book is now complete, and I am not going to "do the Falls," but I must bid such of my readers as may go there to place themselves between the rocks and the waters of the Horse-shoe Fall after sunset—well after sunset; and there remain—say for half an hour. And let every man do this alone; or if fortune have kindly given him such a companion, with one who may leave him as good as alone. But such companions are rare.

The spot to which I allude will easily make itself known to him, nor will he have any need of a guide. He will find it, of course, before the sun shall set. And, indeed, as to guides, let him eschew them, giving a twenty-five cent piece here and there, so that these men be not ruined for want of custom. Into this spot I made my way, and stood there for............