It may not be proper to judge of the health of a community by the
appearance of people who are seen standing about a railroad station;
yet I have often noticed, when travelling through Illinois, that this
class had pale and sickly countenances, showing too clearly the traces
of fever and ague.

But I wish to speak about leaving the cars at Dunleith and taking the
steamboat for St. Paul. There is a tremendous rush for the boats in
order to secure state-rooms. Agents of different boats approach the
traveller, informing him all about their line of boats, and
depreciating the opposition boats. For instance, an agent, or, if you
please, a runner of a boat called Lucy-- not Long-- made the assertion
on the levee with great zeal and perfect impunity that no other boat
but the said Lucy would leave for St. Paul within twenty-four hours;
when it must have been known to him that another boat on the mail line
would start that same evening, as was actually the fact. But the
activity of the runners was needless; for each boat had more
passengers than it could well accommodate. I myself went aboard the "
Lady Franklin," one of the mail boats, and was accommodated with a
state-room. But what a scene is witnessed for the first two hours
after the passengers begin to come aboard! The cabin is almost filled,
and a dense crowd surrounds the clerk's office, just as the ticket
office of a theatre is crowded on a benefit night. Of course not more
than half can get state-rooms and the rest must sleep on the cabin
floor. Over two hundred cabin passengers came up on the Lady Franklin.
The beds which are made on the floor are tolerably comfortable, as
each boat is supplied with an extra number of single mattresses. The
Lady Franklin is an old boat, and this is said to be its last season.1
Two years ago it was one of the excursion fleet to St. Paul, and was