We had a very cold journey to Louisville over the Alleghanies, but a safe one, which is, I find, matter of congratulation.

I think it was the day before we started from Cumberland, Mr. Clay was overturned on those rough roads: most fortunately, he was not injured. Another carriage that started about the same time we did, was detained a very long time; and the passengers had to walk a long way. I am not, in general, fond of walking, but should particularly hate such compulsory pedestrianism.

One cannot wonder at accidents in crossing these mountains, for the drivers appear to be frequently intoxicated, and are rough and reckless, cruel to their horses, by over-urging them, and cruel to their passengers, driving often full gallop over the worst part of abominable roads, to the almost dislocation of their limbs and the bumping and thumping of their unfortunate heads against the hard roof of the vehicle. If there be any truth in phrenology, what changes in character must be wrought during a journey across the Alleghanies! The morose cynic may come out sweet as syrup; the humble with an ambition, that will be already practised in “overvaulting itself” and tumbling on the other side! A Pennsylvanian Quaker might be shaken out of all his trembling sectarianism, or a French novelwriter tossed into a demure Broadbrim. I can answer for our tempers being very materially changed.