The Church and State [pp. 71]

CHURCH AND STATE.
his hairy self and hairy dog right down by my side.
Gathering up my cloak and hat, I gave him and his
dog the whole seat, and sought refuge in another car.
Wearily wore the night away. The car was close
and crowded. The seats were hard, the road rough,
and some of the company smoky. In the morning,
the cars stopped at some little village, whose name
I have forgotten, for breakfast. We tumbled into
the room, where the tables were scantily supplied
with provision, and each one took hlis station where
he could best accommodate himself with a place to
stand; for seats were not. I selected mny stand in
the most distant and retired nook of the room, and
was about to place a cup of coffee to my thirsty lips,
when, 0, horror! along came the dandy, with the
same dog hugged to his breast, and projecting his
ugly nose, and dirty feet, right over the table directly opposite me. I drank the coffee, all except
what I spilled, seized a chicken bone, and looked
neither right, nor left, nor back, till I got fairly out
of door.
At Sandusky, midst the noise and confusion of
draymen and porters, and the displacement of baggage, I lost sight of the interesting trio. I knew
not whether they had gone on board the boat, or
stopped at the hotel. After we had got fairly out
into the lake, the dinner bell rang. By this time I
was pretty essentially hungry. Having, however,
some misgivings lest the dog might be on board,
supposing that, as the dandy had a lady in charge,
as well as a dog, he would take a seat near the head
of the table, I took the precaution, as I happened to
be, at that time, ladyless, to choose my place at the
other extremity of the table. I had but scarcely
got seated, when, happening to look up, I saw coming out of a state-room, that very man, and that
very woman, and that very dog; and, 0, horror of
horrors! I perceived that the table was nearly full,
the only vacant seats being opposite me, and my
tormentors were approaching the place. But it was
no longer any use to flee; I might as well be dogged
to death as to starve. So, with inclined head, eyes
nearly closed, and desperate haste, I swallowed my
dinner, trusting to the digestive powers of my
stomach, and left the table as soon as possible.
The wind began to blow a stiff, fresh breeze.
The boat began to pitch, and the passengers grew
quiet. Soon all was hushed in the cabin. Gentlemen, ladies, children, and the dog, had retired to
the state-rooms and berths. I took a comfortable
seat, and, undisturbed either in mind or stomach,
mused the time away. Evening came, and supper
was announced; but no dandy nor dog appeared.
Through the night I slept quietly on a cot, undisturbed by bark or yelp. At early morn we arrived
at Buffalo. As soon as the boat touched the wharf,
I leaped ashore, baggage in hand, and, standing at
a safe distance, watched the motions of the French
dandy with dogged interest. Soon I saw him, and
wife, and dog, and baggage, driven in a hack to the
depot of the Niagara Falls railroad. I had intended to go that way myself, but I never could think
of visiting Niagara with the risk of again meeting
dandies and dogs. And then I might have to travel
all the way in company with them to New York.
So my mind was at once made up to get out of
Buffalo, and away from the Falls, as quick as possible. Soon I was on my way direct to Albany, and
I never saw dandy nor dog more, and I fervently
hope I never may.
THE ST. LAWRENCE.
Reader, did you ever see the noble and beautiful
St. Lawrence, and glide down its varied surface
from Ogdensburg to Montreal? If you did not,
then there is yet reserved for you, if you have time
and means to make it, the most interesting excursion in the world. You have heard of the thousand islands scattered along from the foot of Ontario to Ogdensburg. There is much of the romantic
and wild in the scenery of this part of the river;
but nothing can surpass the alternate succession of
beauty and grandeur below. Sometimes the river
rushes through narrow gorges, and the stanch
steamer dashes down the startling, foaming, roaring rapids. Then the waters spread out over a
vast surface, forming a lake, whose distant and
depressed shores are dimly seen through the hazy
atmosphere. Along the banks, on one side, are
farms, and villages, and churches, and, on the other,
a wild and unknown region, ribbed by unclimbed
mountains, and intersected by untrodden valleys,
and dotted with unexplored lakes. This wild and
uninhabited region extends over a large part of
northern New York. A range of very lofty mountains may be seen all the way as you go down the
St. Lawrence, and up Champlain. They look rugged, gloomy, and grand.
As you approach Montreal, the wildness disappears, the farms and villages grow more frequent
and beautiful, and, at last, the noble and magnificent city rises before you. It is hard to conceive of
a more magnificent scene than Montreal presents,
as you approach it from the southern shore of the
St. Lawrence. Conspicuous among the substantial
structures, for which the city is remarkable, stands
the great cathedral. When you reach the city, ascend the great tower of the cathedral, and look over
the city and country. Such a scene of beauty earth
can rarely present.
But I have detained you, perhaps, too long. We
may return to this place again, and take another
look at the St. Lawrence, and at Montreal, and at
Champlain.
CHURCH AND STATE.
THE Constitutional Assembly of Germany, now
in session at Frankfort, have abolished the old connection between Church and state in that country,
permitting the citizens generally to form such religious associations as they may choose, without help
or hinderance from the government. They have,
also, separated the connection between the state and
the schools, which are to be the people's property.
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