The road from Schenectady to Utica is one of
the exceptions to this rule: there is not perhaps a more beautiful
variety of scenery to be found anywhere. You run the whole way through
the lovely valley of the Mohawk, on the banks of the Mohawk river. It
was really delightful, but the motion was so rapid that you lamented
passing by so fast. The Utica railroad is one of the best in America;
the eighty miles are performed in four hours and a-half, stoppages for
taking in water, passengers, and refreshments, included. The locomotive
was of great power, and as it snorted along with a train of carriages of
half a mile long in tow, it threw out such showers of fire, that we were
constantly in danger of conflagration. The weather was too warm to
admit of the windows being closed, and the ladies, assisted by the
gentlemen, were constantly employed in putting out the sparks which
settled on their clothes--the first time I ever heard ladies complain of
having too many _sparks_ about them. As the evening closed in we
actually were whirled along through a stream of fiery threads--a
beautiful, although humble imitation of the tail of a comet.

I had not been recognised in the rail car, and I again flattered myself
that I was unknown. I proceeded, on my arrival at Utica, to the hotel,
and asking at the bar for a bed, the book was handed to me, and I was
requested to write my name. Wherever you stop in America, they
generally produce a book and demand your name, not on account of any
police regulations, but merely because they will not allow secrets in
America, and because they choose to know who you may be. Of course, you
may frustrate this espionage by putting down any name you please; and I
had the pen in my hand, and was just thinking whether I should be Mr
Snooks or Mr Smith, when I received a slap on the shoulder, accompanied
with--"Well, captain, how are you by this time?" In despair I let the
pen drop out of my hand, and instead of my name I left on the book a
large blot. It was an old acquaintance from Albany, and before I had
been ten minutes in the hotel, I was recognised by at least ten more.
The Americans are such locomotives themselves, that it is useless to
attempt the incognito in any part except the west side of the
Missisippi, or the Rocky Mountains. Once known at New York, and you are
known every where, for in every place you will meet with some one whom
you have met walking in Broadway.

A tremendous th