Kingston is but a small place, though once of considerable importance.  The population is about 12,000.  In the year 1841, Lord Sydenham having removed the seat of Government from Toronto to Kingston, the inhabitants expended large sums of money in the expectation that it would so continue; but, in 1844, it was removed back again, and consequently a very heavy loss was incurred by those who had laid out their money.  It is this eternal shifting about of the seat of Government—­the disadvantage of which must be manifest to every one—­that makes me hope Bytown, the position of which is so central, may some day be decided upon as the city to enjoy that honour permanently.  However much Kingston may be recovering itself, and I was told it is, I must confess that, despite its cathedral, colleges, university, and other fine buildings, which it undoubtedly possesses, the grass in the streets and lanes, the pigs and the cows feeding about in all directions, made me feel ashamed, especially when I thought of young Ogdensburg, which I had so lately left.  Taking into consideration the extent of lake communication which it enjoys, and that by the magnificent Rideau Canal the whole country of the Ottawa is open to it, I must say that I consider the state of Kingston the strongest reflection upon the energy and enterprise of the population.  The finest view is from the citadel, which commands a splendid panoramic expanse; the fortifications are in good repair, and garrisoned by Canadian Rifles and a few Royal Artillerymen.  One of the objects I should have had most interest in visiting was the Provincial Penitentiary, the arrangements of which, I had heard, were admirable; but, as I had no time to see them, the reader is saved the details.

At 3 P.M., I was again steaming away on Lake Ontario, which soon spreads out into an open sea.  The boat was tolerably good and clean, and the food to match, but it was served down below; the cabin was therefore very stuffy.  I selected a bed with great care, and in due time got into it, quite delighted with my carefully-chosen position, and soon buried my nose in the pillow, full of peaceful hopes.  Luckless mortal! scarce had my nose extracted the cold from its contact with the pillow-case, when a sound came rushing forth with a violence which shook not only me and my bed, but the whole cabin.  The tale is soon told.  I had built my nest at the muzzle of the whistle of the engine, and, as they made a point of screeching forth the moment anything appeared in sight, you may guess that I had a pleasant night of it, and have scrupulously avoided repeating the experiment in any subsequent steam excursions.  Having nobody to blame but myself, I lost the little satisfaction I might have had in abusing somebody else, and calling him a stupid ass for making such a choice.  However, as a matter of justice, I abused myself, and the point being beyond dispute, no rejoinder was put in.  Pleased with the candour of my confession, I caught such snatches of rest as the engineer and his whistle in mercy vouchsafed me—­the next morning we were in Toronto.