On Wednesday last, we made one of a large party of ladies and gentlemen, who were treated to a most delightful sail, on board the new Steam-Boat North America. The boat we have fully described before. Through the politeness of her agents and owners, the invitation was general, and many eastern strangers were of the party. The lake was calm--its green surface scarcely broken by a ripple--the atmosphere clear, and the sun bright but not oppressive. At point Abino the boat was put about. The city we had left but an hour before, was still visible in the North, its buildings mingling in promiscuous confusion, with the gray outline of the adjoining coast. At the south and west, "where sky and ocean met," a dozen sail that had left port before us, were visible; some standing boldly up, in relief, against the clear sky; other, hull down in the distance, showed only the tops of their sails, like a mere speck in the line of vision. On either side of us lay the green shores of the lake, studded with native forests, broken only here and there by the hand of man; and nearer still, two other steam-boats, like huge Leviathans, were urging their giant bulk along the deep. One was from Detroit; the other just starting for Chicago, Illinois.
The whole scene was one of intellectual enjoyment. Both strangers and citizens were gratified, and the afternoon agreeably melted away amid a succession of chit-chat, dance and lemonade. The new boat acquitted herself handsomely, justifying the expectations of her owners; whose urbanity, upon the occasion, will long be borne in welcome recollection.