ligent, mild, well-informed
gentleman of my own age,--the Unitarian minister of the place. With him,
and two other companions, I got into the first coach. . . .

"We halted at so good an inn at Lebanon that we resolved to return there
at night, if possible. One would scarcely find a better village alehouse
of a homely kind in England. During our halt I walked into the village,
and met a _dwelling-house_ coming down-hill at a good round trot, drawn
by some twenty oxen! We resumed our journey as soon as possible, and got
upon the looking-glass prairie at sunset. We halted near a solitary log
house for the sake of its water; unpacked the baskets; formed an
encampment with the carriages; and dined.

"Now, a prairie is undoubtedly worth seeing--but more, that one may say
one has seen it, than for any sublimity it possesses in itself. Like
most things, great or small, in this country, you hear of it with
considerable exaggerations. Basil Hall was really quite right in
depreciating the general character of the scenery. The widely-famed Far
West is not to be compared with even the tamest portions of Scotland or
Wales. You stand upon the prairie, and see the unbroken horizon all
round you. You are on a great plain, which is like a sea without water.
I am exceedingly fond of wild and lonely scenery, and believe that I
have the faculty of being as much impressed by it as any man living. But
the prairie fell, by far, short of my preconceived idea. I felt no such
emotions as I do in crossing Salisbury Plain. The excessive flatness of
the scene makes it dreary, but tame. Grandeur is certainly not its
characteristic. I retired from the rest of the party, to understand my
own feelings the better; and looked all round, again and again. It was
fine. It was worth the ride. The sun was going down, very red and
bright; and the prospect looked like that ruddy sketch of Catlin's,
which attracted our attention (you remember?); except that there was not
so much ground as he represents, between the spectator and the horizon.
But to say (as the fashion is here) that the sight is a landmark in
one's existence, and awakens a new set of sensations, is sheer gammon. I
would say to every man who can't see a prairie--go to Salisbury Plain,
Marlborough Downs, or any of the broad, high, open lands near the sea.
Many of them are fully as impressive, and Salisbury Plain is _decidedly_
more so.

"We had brought roast fowls, buffalo's tongue, ham, bread, c