had made amOteMs OOLeas passageto White hall. and a hysterical laugh at my own ab- surdIty m being amused with any thing un- der my calamitous loss of money. Here we are, however, on Lake George, and do begin to suspect that am getting unct- uous and cheerful once more. have spent an hour, among other biensc0aces, in sailing chip-boat in d wash bowl, to illus. trate to my fair companion how a rudder tuI ns boat round-a fact of which, my lu- minous illustrations notwithstanding, she still seems to have shtewd doubt.

 'Tis glorious Eake--Lake George.- It is called Holy Lake by the Catholics, and do not wonder that they send, as I am told they do, for it's waters all over Canada to fill the fonts in their churches. Its transparence is really wonderfal- slightestspebblo on the bottom being dis Htinctly visible at depth of thirty feet, and now, as the sun shines more constant up- on it, I think never saw shores of such exquisite outline, and such clear and ma gic reflections. These tall green hills hang down in the abyss below us, with every leaf and tint as palpable, and far softer than the reality. How 1 wish the dark eyes beside me, only less beautiful than the scene itselG could convey from the su- perb mirrors to the indOlent soul beneath them, one worthy impression of the love- Illness about us! I never feel the want of mind in woman but at such times and pla- eos as this 1; and indeed, if it were not for the luxurious necessity we feel of some sof- tening mirror for our own most elevated feelings, l would dispense with every thing in the sex but affectionateness and beauty. But there are chance moments in life when a woman and nothing but woman, and 1 refined and high -hearted one, can answer the spirits ques'ioning'--when you could lavish the very drop at your utmost heart for ono hours perfect and pure, and, ifyou will, silent sympathy. And since am up- on sentiment, here are somo verses read to me last night at the wretched tavern op- posite Ticonderoga, by chance room fel- low, who discovered, by sOmo mistimed so- liloquizing quotation while undressing, that l had read the poets. Sir said he, q was pulling off wet silk stocking upon which the chamber had split pail of water,) 'perhars you don't know that l write verses : Perhaps I don't, Sir.'- Perhaps you wouldn't like to hear me read you stave or so.' 'Perhaps l wouldn't, Sir,' and ! went on sulkily dry ing my foot with my towel (so coarse that l bought it for curiosity, and it now hangs as matter for philosophy just over my most delicate cutaneous emollients); I was not to escape so. There he sat, like poetry fiends sswithin three feet of me, on the oth- Mn kml Aks,s ~ss ssN and dingy silk handkerchief in the other. ! tied on my bandanna. He hemmed thrice. I began to sing His name it be- gins with an O. He requested me to stop -said he was nervous about music-lf would slip into bed he would reud me to sleep. After that only remember two lines :--..

 "She was fond aud gentle girl,

 Asplayful as a very sqIirrel t'

 which it seemed to me wore scarce out of his mouth before was called to breakfast --the following morning. 1 have since advanced somewhat in his acqnaintnnce.-- He is great self-educated Green Noun tain boy, who was attacked with the pro- pensi,y for writing poetry on meeting, in pedlar's cart, an old copy of an Irish Mag azino. He showed it me as a particular favor.

 Aug. 1O.--At Saratoga-d:essing, break fast, dressing. dinner, dressing, dancing- the history ofa week. never had occa- sion to study Neckclothiana SO devou,ly.

 Aug. Yesterday, the seventh day after my arrival, having been reduced to my last unsported tie, vacated the small orifice in which was nightly deposited, and dropped of unnoticed, like grain of sand im an hour-glass, to join the more qui- ct races of mankind. I sit in an upper story at 7Ttus's in Troy twas ever such a classic description of whereabout ? feel- ing, though my room is scarce six feet by two, a propensity to stretch myself after my Saratoga quarters, as ! have observed . fy.to do after sleeping in quill. wOn- der who knows that Troy is one of the most agreeable places unwritten' about. \ wonder who knows that within a ten miles ride from the place of my present writing, is an elevation called Mount Ida, which commands positively one of the most exquisite natural pictures in the world. The long sweep of interval down the Hudson, with the two or three lovely islands in the midst, the fine junction of the Mohawk above, the bold, broken hor- izon on every side, Troy beneath you, and Albany looking SO well in the distance,

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