sight of this novel obstruction. "Buchanan, Fillmore, or Fremont?"
said she, in a tone of dogmatical interrogatory. B. was a fervid
Fremonter-- he probably thought she was-- so he exclaimed, "Vermont
for ever!" I awaited the sequel in silence. "Then you may go round,"
said the little female politician. "You may go round," and round we
went, not a little amused at such an exhibition of enthusiasm. I
remember very well the excitement during the campaign of 1840; and I
did my share with the New Hampshire boys in getting up decoy cider
barrels to humbug the Whigs as they passed in their barouches to
attend some great convention or hear Daniel Webster. But it seems to
me there is much more political excitement during this campaign than
there was in 1840. Flagstaffs and banners abound in the greatest
profusion in every village. Every farm-house has some token of its
polities spread to the breeze.

At twenty minutes past one-- less or more-- we left Columbus, and
after travelling 158 miles, via Dayton, we came to Indianapolis, the
great "Railroad City," as it is called, of the west. It was half past
nine when we arrived there. I did not have time to go up to the Bates
House, where I once had the pleasure of stopping, but concluded to get
supper at a hotel near the depot, where there was abundant time to go
through the ceremony of eating. It strikes me that Indianapolis would
be an agreeable place to reside in. There are some cities a man feels
at home in as soon as he gets into them; there are others which make
him homesick; just as one will meet faces which in a moment make a
good impression on him, or which leave a dubious or disagreeable
impression. That city has 16,000 people. Its streets are wide, and its
walks convenient. All things denote enterprise, liberality, and
comfort. It is 210 miles from Indianapolis to this city, via Lafayette
and Michigan City. We ought to have made the time in less than twelve