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PREFACE OF THE EDITOR.

On the fifth day of August, 1824, a rather genteel looking stranger arrived at the Mansion Hotel in the city of Washington, where he inquired for a retired room, and expressed his intention of staying some time. He was dressed in a blue frock, striped vest, and gray pantaloons; was about five feet ten, as is supposed, and had a nose like a potato. The evening of the following day there arrived in the stage from Baltimore, a little mahogany-faced foreigner, a Frenchman as it would seem, with gold rings in his ears, and a pair of dimity breeches. The little man in dimity breeches expressed great pleasure at meeting the stranger, with whom he seemed to be well acquainted; but the stranger appeared much agitated at the rencontre, and displayed nothing like satisfaction on the occasion. With the evident intention of avoiding the little dark complexioned man, he, in a few minutes, desired the waiter to show him into his room, to which he retired without bidding the other good night.

It appears from the testimony of the waiter, that on going into his chamber, and observing a portmanteau, which had been placed there in his absence, the stranger inquired to whom it belonged. The waiter replied: "to the French gentleman. As you seemed to be old acquaintance, I thought you would like to be together, sir." This information seemed to cause great agitation in the mind of the stranger, who exclaimed, as if unconscious of the presence of the waiter, "I am a lost man!" which the waiter thought rather particular. The stranger, after a few moments apparent perplexity, ordered the waiter to bring him pen, ink, paper, and sealing-wax, and then desired to be left alone. It is recollected that the dark-complexioned foreigner retired about ten, requesting to be called up at four o'clock, as he was going on in the stage to the south. This is the last that was seen, either of the stranger, or the dark-complexioned foreigner. On knocking at the door precisely at four o'clock the next morning, and no answer being given, the waiter made bold to enter the room, which to his surprise he found entirely empty. Neither trunks nor stranger, nor dark complexioned foreigner, were to be found. Had the stranger and his friend previously run up a long score at the Mansion Hotel, their disappearance would not have excited any extraordinary degree of surprise. But the stranger was indebted but for two days board and lodging, and the dark complexioned foreigner had paid his bill over night. A person who slept in the next room, recollected hearing a stir in that of the stranger, as he thinks, about three o'clock, but supposing it to be some one going off in the mail, it excited no particular observation.

This is all that could be gathered in relation to the mysterious disappearance of these two travellers. But on searching about the room a packet was found carefully sealed, and directed "To the Editor of the—;" the rest was wanting, and the omission was probably occasioned by some circumstance occurring at the instant, which led to the singular affair above detailed. Some days having elapsed without any thing occurring to throw light on the transaction, it was thought proper to open the packet, the direction of which afforded no clue by which to transmit it to the persons intended, in the hope that something might be learned from it, that would lead to a discovery of the names, or the friends of these mysterious persons. On inspection it proved to be a manuscript of travels in the United States, of which the following is a faithful transcript. Though, as the reader will perceive, it explains very satisfactorily the principal portion of the preceding details, there was nothing in it which could lead directly to a discovery of the name and residence of the unfortunate gentleman, whose fate, although still enveloped in doubt, is but too easily anticipated. All that appears certain from the manuscript, is that the stranger was an Englishman, travelling to New-Orleans on business, and that he probably was in some way mysteriously made away with by the little dark complexioned foreigner, of whom a description has been given, and for whom a reward has been offered in the public papers without effect. His name, as given by himself, in the examination before the magistrate in New-York is probably fictitious.

After mature reflection, it was decided to publish the manuscript, as the best and cheapest mode of extending the inquiry concerning the identity of this unfortunate stranger to all parts of the reading world, and thereby acquiring further information. In addition to this motive it was thought that a work of such extraordinary merit as to style, sentiment, and accuracy of detail, deserved to be made known. Much discussion took place in respect to the selection of a title for the work, which had been omitted in the manuscript. To announce it simply as a book of travels in America, would have been to place it on a footing with the various romances which have been published under that title within the last thirty years. Of these we have lately had such a profusion that the public is rather tired, as we are informed by the booksellers. Some familiar and striking title-page, no matter whether applicable or not to the character of the work, was therefore necessary to excite public attention, and it was finally decided to adopt that which appears, and which we will now proceed to explain.

The character of these travels being that of severe and inflexible truth, a title was chosen in direct antithesis, partly in a sportive imitation of the facetious philosopher Lucian, who gave the name of "a true story" to one of the most improbable fictions of antiquity; and partly in allusion to Dr. Jonathan Swift, who in like manner disguised one of the gravest of satires, under the mask of "A Tale of a Tub," than which nothing can be more opposite to its real character. Thus, in like manner, have we availed ourselves of the catachresis on this occasion, not only for the purpose of agreeably surprising the reader into the perusal of a work of incomparable veracity, under the garb of a work of fiction, but also to administer to the public taste, which, owing to the witcheries of that mischievous person called the "Great Unknown," hath an unseemly propensity towards romances and the like.

In this we are justified, not only by the foregoing high authorities, but in an especial manner by the example of certain great critics, who place at the head of their articles, by way of title-page, the name of a book about which they say not one word in the whole course of their lucubrations. So, in like manner, may we see certain well-meaning and orthodox writers, publishing what they call "candid examinations," and "cool considerations," of and concerning certain disputed points, which, to say the truth, are neither candid nor cool, but marvellously the contrary. We mention not these things in a spirit of hostility, but to justify our adoption of the figure of the catachresis by their examples. The reader will therefore err most egregiously if he supposes for a moment that the following work, whatever be its title, bears the most remote resemblance, or is in any wise tainted with the egregious fictions of the genuine Munchausen.

Touching the real author of this work, whom we may safely pronounce a second and still greater "Great Unknown," we have our suspicions on the subject, suspicions almost amounting to a certainty, which we shall proceed to lay before the reader. At first, for divers good reasons, we were inclined to suppose the author was no less a person than the "Great Unknown" himself, who as is asserted, resided in America some time. But however rich, redundant, and inexhaustible may be the invention of this extraordinary Incognito, no one we think will deny to our author, notwithstanding his general character of severe veracity, a vigour of fancy and a vein of inventive sportiveness, vastly superior even to the "Great Unknown." We must therefore discard this suggestion and proceed to put the reader in possession of our settled conviction on this matter, which as will be seen amounts to next to a certainty.

To come to the point without further circumlocution, we have the best reasons as well as the highest circumstantial testimony to warrant us in the assertion, that the author of this work, was, and if living, is still, one of the principal writers of the Quarterly Review—the very person who wrote the masterly review of Faux's Travels in the fifty-eighth number. To arrive at this conclusion it is only necessary to compare the two works, in the articles of style, temper, and feeling, every thing in short which goes to the indication of a personal identity. The style of this work displays the closest resemblance to that of the article on Mr. Faux's Travels, and indeed all the articles relating to the United States, in the Quarterly Review. The same classical severity and mildness of rebuke, where rebuke is necessary—the same happy aptitude in the selection of choice flowers of rhetoric—the same amiable zeal for religion— the same charity to all men—the same principles of universal benevolence—the same gentlemanly observance of the slightest minutiæ of high-wrought and refined good breeding, runs through each and all of these productions. Nay, the same expressions and peculiar phrases which characterize the reviewer, occur almost in every page of our author. We have the "turbulent spirit of democracy"—the "wanton violations of the Sabbath"— the "total disregard of religion"—the "spitting, gouging, drinking, duelling, dirking, swearing, strutting republicans"—the "white-robed, levee going, cow-hiding fine lady"—the "hog-stealing judges"—"the illusions of transatlantic speculation"— "the flippant farragoes of impiety, malevolence, folly, and radical trash"—together with an infinite variety of the favourite phrases of the Quarterly repeated over and over again, with a facility, which we think can only be accounted for on the supposition that the author and reviewer are one and same person.

Again, a perfect similarity of temper as well as style reigns throughout both productions. The same display of candour, good nature, urbanity, morality, piety, orthodoxy, and loyalty—the same inflexible impartiality and love of truth— the same chivalrous gallantry to the ladies—the same high-toned courtesy to the gentlemen of this republic—and the same intense horror of the turbulent spirit of democracy, lives, breathes, and moves in each. It were too great a stretch of credulity, to suppose that one kingdom, one quarter of the world, or even the whole universe, could possibly at one and the same time, contain two persons so highly and so equally gifted with such extraordinary qualifications. It would be too much for one age. We read indeed of a young Mede, who assured Cyrus that he had two souls; but the idea of two separate persons having one and the same soul, is altogether preposterous. The author of this work, and the superintendent of American affairs in the Quarterly Review, are therefore manifestly one and the same. This decision acquires additional support from the continual reference to, and quotations from, the latter work, interspersed throughout the whole of the former. It is scarcely possible to believe that any person but the reviewer himself, could so accurately remember and refer to the most admired passages. Our author, indeed, seems never to have had the Quarterly out of mind, and this circumstance, together with the fact of his always carrying it about with him, and reading it on all occasions, is another decisive proof; since we have occasion to know from our own experience, that an author ever prefers his own works to all others, as certainly as a parent does his own children.

Other symptoms of identity occur in almost every page. Both these productions are equally remarkable, for that friendly disposition to the people, the government, and institutions of the United States, which has caused the Quarterly to be so extensively circulated in this country, and patronized by its most distinguished citizens. It would be absurd to suppose that two persons, and those persons foreigners, should at one and the same time be animated by such disinterested feelings of good will towards the people of this, or any other country. We notice, likewise, several other striking similarities; especially an equally accurate knowledge of the geography and history of the United States. The amiable credulity of our author, in occasionally suffering himself to be imposed upon by the relations of others, is also a characteristic of the reviewer, who it must be confessed sometimes stretches his belief into the regions of the marvellous.— This credulity is joined with a certain engaging simplicity which appears, in occasionally exhibiting himself in a ridiculous light, without appearing to be aware of it, and relating things which a more artful and wary person would pass over without notice. This we look upon as the strongest proof of his veracity, and a guaranty for the truth of every thing he advances upon his own authority. In regard to what is told him by others, we would advise the reader to receive it with some grains of allowance.

Having thus, as we presume to imagine, pretty clearly established our position, that the author of the following pages, and the writer of American criticisms in the Quarterly, is one and the same person, we shall proceed to indulge in a few speculations as to the precise individual to whom the people of the United States have so frequently been indebted for such friendly notices.

It cannot be the laureat, Mr. Southey, because we are assured he has lately taken rather a dislike to republicans, on account of their blamable indifference to his epic poems. Having in one of these taken the trouble to confer upon them a respectable degree of dignity and antiquity, by peopling the country with a colony of Welsh, commanded by a real prince, with an enormous long pedigree, it is another proof of the ingratitude of republics, that the Americans should be so indifferent on the occasion. The Laureat's dislike is, therefore, however much it may be lamented, not to be wondered at. But besides this, we have occasion to know that the Laureat finds it such a difficult matter to do justice to the glories of his present gracious sovereign, that he has been high and dry aground upon a birthday ode for the last nine months, and there is not telling when he will be delivered. It is whispered in the literary circles, that he has called for another butt of sack, to float him off. Others say, that in addition to this, he is engaged upon a second "Vision of Judgment," in which his old antagonist, the late Lord Byron, is condemned to a most unheard of punishment, to wit, that of reading over all the Laureat's epics, sapphics, &c. not forgetting Wat Tyler, twice a year, till he becomes orthodox, and believes in the divine right of kings.

Neither do we think it can possibly be Mr. D'Israeli, it being pretty generally understood that he is entirely devoted to the ladies, and that his specified duty is to keep an eye upon Lady Morgan, to whose "flippant impieties," &c. his acknowledged orthodoxy is held to be a most sovereign antidote. We remember to have read in the London Morning Chronicle, (a most mischievous gossipping paper,) if we mistake not, that Mr. D— was the author of a certain Review in the Quarterly, in which like one of Tasso's or Ariosto's gallant knights, he tilted mortally at our Lady Errant, not with lance but pen, and demonstrated to the satisfaction of the world that the good old Jewish rite had not in the least impaired his manhood.

We had at one time settled it in our minds, that these productions came from the pen of the good natured creature who has so long presided over the Quarterly, whereby it hath become so renowned throughout all Christendom, for that refined and high-wrought courtesy, which is only to be acquired in the cabin of a Newcastle collier.— These suspicions were strengthened by our being credibly informed of a little good-tempered old gentleman, who was in this country some time last Spring, and was so delighted with every thing he saw that he fell seriously ill of an ecstatic transport, from which he was finally recovered by smelling a bottle of the pure essence of democracy. These facts staggered us a little; but positive information has since been received that the good man was at that time confined to his house, No. 68 Grub-street, with a dyspepsy, accompanied by lowness of spirits, occasioned, as is conjectured, by the late act of Parliament abolishing lotteries, whereby his office of comptroller of lottery-offices naturally falls to the ground. It is surmised that the orthodox old gentleman hath it in serious contemplation to abandon the Quarterly, become very wicked, and devote himself to democracy and impiety, unless they bolster up his principles with another sinecure.

The reader will doubtless give us due credit, when we assure him we have reduced it to a probability, approaching very near to certainty, that the real author of the productions, which have been the subject of this inquiry, is a gentleman of great orthodoxy, generally known in England by the appellation of "The Talking Potato." We have been at some pains to come at the origin of this whimsical distinction, but upon the whole have not succeeded exactly to our wishes. By some, it is said, it arose from his talking as if he had a hot potato in his mouth; by others, that it came from his having a nose wonderfully resembling the Solanum Tuberosum, or red potato. But the most general opinion is, that it originated in his once having had the misfortune to require trepanning, when Sir Astley Cooper, the great surgeon, was astonished to find the entire cavity of the brain occupied by a thumping Irish potato. This fact was communicated to the college of physicians, but without mentioning the name, and may be found in one of the volumes of their transactions.

This gentleman, besides his holding "something in the nature of a sinecure," is a member of parliament, and, as we are informed, one of the genteellest writers of the Quarterly. Besides all this, he is considered the best joker in the House, with the exception of Mr. Canning. He has not the wit of Mr. Canning, but then, as the country members are wont to say in a debate on the causes of agricultural distress, while they are splitting their sides with laughter, "he talks so like a potato." It is a state secret with which we have chanced to become possessed, that the "talking potato," did actually come over here sometime in the late recess of Parliament, for the sole purpose of ascertaining the real causes of various naval phenomena which occurred during the late war between England and the United States, a subject which had excited great curiosity among my lords of the admiralty. We understand he ascertained pretty clearly, that the whole secret lay in the trifling circumstances, of a superiority of ships, officers, seamen, and gunnery. This discovery put him in such good humour, that he was wrought upon to compliment the people and country in the polite manner exemplified in the following pages. It is surmised that the result of his mission, in relation to naval matters, will appear in the next edition of Mr. Robert James's Apology for the English Navy. With respect to his object in going to New-Orleans, we have some suspicion that it might have been a part of his mission to account for the wonderful disparity of loss in the great battle between the British and the stout hero of New-Orleans.

The foregoing contains all the particulars we have been able to obtain in elucidation of the following work. We cannot, however, refrain from expressing our earnest hopes, that the doubts of his friends, and the fears of his country in regard to the fate of this unfortunate gentleman, may be speedily removed by his reappearing and claiming this work, to the credit and profits of which he is entirely welcome. Should the contrary be the case, we beg permission to offer our sincere condolements to my lords of the admiralty, to the country members, on the loss of their favourite jester; to the Quarterly Review on the loss of its most classical writer; and to the nation at large on the loss of so useful a person as "The Talking Potato."

CHAP. I.

Impressions of the author previous to his arrival in America— Embarks from Liverpool—Voyage—Sea-serpent—Arrives at Boston, the capital of the state of Kennebunk—Account of the city—Manners of the people—Mansion-house hotel, kept by William Renshaw, an Englishman—Turbulent spirit of democracy— Negroes—Earthquakes—Inundations—Intemperance— Ignorance—Impudence—Barbarity—Athenæum—Literature— Naval Officer—Turbulent spirit of democracy—Quarterly Review, &c.—Leave Boston.

Previous to my departure for the Western paradise of liberty, my impressions with regard to the country were, upon the whole, rather of a favourable character. It is true, I did not believe a word of the inflated accounts given by certain French revolutionary travellers, such as Brissot, Chastellux, and others; much less in those of Birkbeck, Miss Wright, Captain Hall, and the rest of the radical fry. I was too conversant with the Quarterly Review, to be led astray by these Utopian romancers, and felt pretty well satisfied that the institutions of the country were altogether barbarous. I also fully believed that the people were a bundling, gouging, drinking, spitting, impious race, without either morals, literature, religion, or refinement; and that the turbulent spirit of democracy was altogether incompatible with any state of society becoming a civilized nation. Being thus convinced that their situation was, for the present, deplorable, and in the future entirely hopeless, unless they presently relieved themselves from the cumbrous load of liberty, under which they groaned, I fell into a sort of compassion for them, such as we feel for condemned criminals, having no hope of respite, and no claim to benefit of clergy.

Under this impression, and with a determination to look to the favourable side of the subject on all occasions; to be pleased with every thing I saw, and to make a reasonable allowance for the faults originating in their unhappy situation, I left England. I can safely lay my hand on my heart, and declare to the world, that I was, and still am, as free from prejudice against any nation whatever, as any English traveller who has ever visited this country.

Being fully aware of the superiority of British ships and British sailors, I declined the advice of certain merchants at Liverpool, to embark in one of the line of American packets, and took passage on board the British brig Wellington, for Boston, as my business was principally in New-Orleans, and I wished to arrive at the nearest port. I did not like to go directly for New-Orleans, being apprehensive of the yellow-fever, which rages there all the year round, with such virulence that the people all die off there regularly once in two years. Our passage was long and tedious, so much so that the Packet in which I was advised to sail from Liverpool, arrived at Boston four weeks before the Wellington. But this I am assured was owing more to good fortune than to any superiority either in the ship or sailors, over those of the mistress of the seas. I passed my time both pleasantly and profitably in reading the Quarterly.

On the seventieth day from losing sight of Old England, we made land at Cape Hatteras, which forms the eastern point of Boston Bay, which we entered just before sun-set; and being favoured with a fine fair wind from the north, came up to the wharf in about two hours from entering the Capes. Coming up, we saw the famous sea-serpent, but he was nothing to those I had frequently seen in the Serpentine, so called from its abounding in these articles. Being very anxious to go on shore, I desired one of the sailors to call a hack, which very soon arriving, I ordered the fellow to drive me to the best hotel in the place: accordingly he put me down at the mansion-house hotel, kept by William Renshaw, a place of great reputation throughout the United States. The fellow charged me a quarter of a dollar, which is twice as much as I should have paid in London! Being determined not to be imposed upon, I appealed to the landlord, who assured me it was all right; so I paid him, after giving himself and his horses a hearty malediction.

The landlord, civilly enough, considering the country I was in, desired to know if I wished to have a room for the night. I answered him in the affirmative, and begged, as a particular favour, that he would put me into one with not more than six beds in it. He seemed a little surprised, but assured me my wishes should be gratified. I was accordingly shown into a neat room enough, with a single bed. Ay, ay, thought I, this landlord knows how to distinguish his guests—but my wonder subsided when the waiter, who I was surprised to find was a white man, told me his master was an Englishman.

Soon after I was called down to supper, where I found twenty or thirty persons, all perfect strangers to me, and who, seeing I was a stranger I suppose, paid me those little civilities, which, to one who knows the world, are always sufficient to put him on his guard. Accordingly I declined them all, and answered the questions put to me rather short, insomuch that a person, who I took to be a naval officer, seemed inclined to quarrel with me. Nothing indeed can be more disgusting to a stranger than these civilities, from people one does not know; and nothing gave me a more unfavourable impression of the rude manners of these republicans, than the freedom with which they chatted about their private affairs, and joked each other before me, a perfect stranger. It displayed a want of—tact—a familiarity so different from the conduct of people in similar circumstances in London, that I retired to my room in disgust. I afterwards learned that the naval officer threatened to "lick" me, as he called it, for my surly ill manners, as he was pleased to denominate my gentlemanly reserve.

I retired to rest, and found my bed tolerable enough; but the American goose feathers are by no means as soft as those of London. In the morning I went down to breakfast, determined to keep these forward gentry at a distance. But it did not appear to be necessary, as none of these rude boors took the least notice of me, and if I wanted any thing, I was obliged to call the waiter to bring it to me, for no one offered to hand it about the table; I was exceedingly disgusted at this Gothic want of politeness, which, however, was nothing strange, considering the vulgar habits of equality which prevail in this republic; so I called for a coach, with an air of importance, and rode round the city, with a view of seeing into the character and habits of the people.

The first thing that struck me, was the vast disproportion of negroes, in the streets and every where else. I may affirm, with perfect veracity, that nearly one half the inhabitants of Boston are black. Each of these poor creatures has a white man always standing over him, with a large club about the thickness of a man's arm, with which he beats the poor slave for his amusement. I assure you I have seen, I may say, a thousand instances of this kind of a morning. There is hardly a slave here that has not his head covered with scars, and bound up with a handkerchief; and almost every step you take, you perceive the stains of blood upon the pavement, which, I am assured by Governor Hancock himself, is that of the negroes. I have seen a lady of the first distinction here, walking the Mall, as it is called, with a stout blackfellow behind her, and occasionally amusing herself with turning round and scratching his face till it was covered with blood. This Mall is a place of about half an acre, covered with dust, with a few rotten elms, and a puddle in the centre. Even the little children here are initiated into human blood almost as soon as they are able to walk; and the common amusement of young persons is to stick pins in their black attendants, while every boy has a little negro, of about his own age, to torture for his pastime.

The blacks here, as I was assured by his excellency the Governor, whose name is Hancock, have but one meal a day, which is principally potatoes, and fare little better than the miserable Irish or English peasantry at home. The Governor told me a story of a man, who tied his black servant naked to a stake, in one of the neighbouring canebrakes, near the city, which abound with a race of moschetoes that bite through a boot. Here he was left one night, in the month of December, which is a spring month in this climate, and the next morning was found stone dead, without a drop of blood in his body. I asked if this brutal tyrant was not brought to justice? The Governor shrugged up his shoulders and replied, that he was now a member of Congress!

To an Englishman, who is only accustomed to see white men in a state of slavery and want, it is shocking to see black ones in a similar situation. My heart bled, with sympathy for the wrongs of this injured race, and I could not sufficiently admire the philanthropy of the members of the Holy alliance, who have lately displayed such a laudable compassion for the blacks.

Next to the continual recurrence of these disgusting exhibitions of cruelty, the most common objects seen in the streets of Boston, are drunken men, women, and children. I was assured by the Mayor, Mr. Phillips, one of the most charitable and philanthropic men in the State of Maine, that on an average, every third person was drunk every day, by nine o'clock in the morning. The women however, don't get fuddled, he tells me, till after they have cleared the breakfast table, and put the room to rights, when they set to and make merry with the young children, not one in a hundred of whom ever see the inside of a school, or a church. The consequences of this mode of life are, that the whole of the people exhibit a ruddy complexion, and what appears at first sight to be a strong muscular figure; but on a closer examination the roses will be found to be nothing more than what is called grog-blossoms, and the muscular appearance only bloated intemperance.

Ignorance is the natural result of a want of knowledge, as the Quarterly says. Consequently, where children never go to school, it is not probable that learning will flourish. Accordingly, nothing can equal the barbarous ignorance of both the children and grown up persons in this republican city. I happened to be at the house of a judge of one of the courts, and was astonished to find, on my giving his son, a boy of about twelve years old, a book to read, that he could not comprehend a single word! The poor mother, who was, I suppose, a little mortified on account of my being a stranger, (they don't mind these things among themselves,) patted the booby on the back, and assured me the poor boy was so bashful! Most of the justices of the peace here, make their mark, instead of signing their names to warrants, &c. and what is difficult to believe, many of the clerks in the banks can't write their names. I never saw a school while in Boston. There is a college, to be sure, but I was assured the professors did not quite understand English. The Rev. Cotton Mather, one of the most enlightened and popular preachers here, has written a book called the Magnalia, in which he gives a variety of witch stories, such as would be laughed at, even among the Indians, but which they all believe here, as if it were Holy Writ. The work is just come out, and affords apt illustration of the state of the human intellect on this side of the Atlantic.

Religion is, if possible, in a worse state than literature, manners, or morals. There is not a single church in Boston, nor any religious exercises on Sunday, except in a few school rooms, by the methodists and other fanaties. I am assured it is the custom all over New-England, as well as in the states of Newburyport and Pasquotank, to spend the Sabbath like every other day in the week, except that they put on clean clothes, a thing never thought of, even among the most fashionable ladies, except on that occasion.

Boston is a terrible place for fevers and agues. Every one of the inhabitants, except the slaves, is afflicted with them in the spring and autumn, as sure as the leaves appear in the former, and fall in the latter. The consequence is, that they look like so many ghosts, without flesh or blood, and if you go into the shops, you may hear the money jingling in the pockets of the shop-keepers, by the mere force of habit, even if the poor man should happen, at that moment, to be free from the ague; or "shake," as they call it.

Besides this, they have earthquakes and inundations, three times a week if not more. After the earthquake generally comes an inundation, which destroys all the crops for hundreds of miles round, and covers the country so, that the tops of trees and chimneys just appear above the water. This is succeeded by a fog so thick, that many persons are lost in the streets of Boston, and wander about several days, without being able to find any of the houses. This is the origin of the phrase "I guess," so universal in New-England; for these fogs are so common, that one half the time people are obliged to "guess" at what they are about. Hence, too, the half pint of whiskey which every man takes in the morning the first thing he does after getting up, is called an anti-fogmatic.

These are the principal things I observed in my morning's ride. At dinner the naval officer took occasion to make himself most indecently merry, with certain sarcasms on the stupid, surly, self-importance, which some people attempted to pass off for real dignity and high breeding. The rudeness of republicanism, indeed, is obvious to the most superficial observer from the first moment a man sets foot in this country of beastly equality. After dinner a person who had been troubling me with his attentions, since my arrival, offered to carry me to the Athenæum, a great literary institution, where they read newspapers, and talk politics, which they mistake for literature. I must not forget to observe, that nothing can be worse than the taste of these people, which is perfectly barbarous, except their genius, which is perfectly barren. Nothing is read here but newspapers, almanacs, dying-speeches, ghost stories, and the like. Their greatest scholar is Noah Webster, who compiled a spelling-book, and their greatest poet the author of Yankee doodle. The utmost effort of republican genius is to write an additional stanza to this famous song, which, in consequence of these perpetual contributions, is, by this time, almost as long as a certain Persian poem, which, if I recollect right, consisted of one hundred and twenty thousand verses.

I brought letters to some of the principal magnificoes here, but did not deliver them. I like the dinners and old wine of these vulgarians, but really it is paying too much for them to be obliged to listen to their vulgar hemp, cotton, tobacco, and nankeen speculations, without being allowed the privilege of laughing, or even yawning in their stupid faces. Then one is obliged to drink wine with madam, be civil to her dowdy daughters, who "guess they have no occasion for dancing"—and what is the climax of horrors, retire from the dinner-table to the drawing-room, to hear miss break the sixth commandment in the matter of half a dozen sonatas, and two dozen of Moore's Melodies.

By the time I had sojourned a single day in the land of promise, I began to be mortally ennuyé. I inquired of the waiter if there was any thing in the fancy way going on. He replied there were plenty of fancy stores in Court-street!—I asked if there was likely to be a mob soon, as I had heard these republicans amused themselves in that way. He replied, that mobs never happened in Boston. Any executions? No—"My G—d," exclaimed I in despair, "what a dull place!" I devoted the evening to packing up, and after supper, being desirous to make an impression on these bumpkin demos, called out loudly to the waiter, in my best Corinthian tone—"Waiter!—you infernal waiter!" "Here, sir." "Waiter, bring a boot-jack and pair of slippers." "Waiter—you infernal waiter," replied a voice which I took for an echo. "Here, sir," said the waiter. "Waiter, bring me two boot-jacks, and two pair of slippers." On looking round I perceived the echo was my old enemy, the naval officer. Being determined, however, to take no notice of such a low fellow, I again called out.—"Waiter, bring a candle into my chamber, and a warming pan to warm my bed."— "Waiter, bring two candles, and two warmingpans, into my chamber. I shall sleep in two beds to night," cried echo. I gave him a look of withering contempt and walked out of the room, leaving behind me a horse laugh, which, as I judged, proceeded from these illiterate cyclops. Before I went to bed I looked over the fifty-eighth number of the Quarterly to refresh my memory.

CHAP. II.

Turbulent spirit of democracy—Leave Boston for Charleston N. C.—Great ship—Captain Hull—Eating negroes—Cruelty— Judge D.—Yankee dinner—Mode of eating—Terrapins, cant word for young negroes—System of farming—Yale college— Ignorance of the professor—Hoax—Turbulent spirit of democracy— Turkey Buzzards, called eagles here—Fogs—Drunken driver—Mail robbers—Wild beasts—Little Frenchman—Turbulent spirit of democracy—Yankee breakfast—Judge, colonel, deacon, driver—Spirit of democracy—Shooting at a mark— Unlucky mistake—Spirit of democracy—Catastrophe of Ramsbottom, &c.

Being determined to hold as little communication as possible with the turbulent spirit of democracy, the next day, without asking any questions, I took the stage, crossed a bridge to the north of Boston, which bestrides the Potomac river, and in less than half an hour arrived in Charleston, the capital of the state of North Carolina, a city famous for eating negroes. It is about three miles from Boston. There is a navy-yard at this place which I visited, and saw a ship building there which is four hundred and twenty yards long, and as Capt. Hull, the commandant, assured me, would carry three hundred long forty-two pounders. She is called a seventy-four! The captain, who is a tall rough-looking man, with black eyes and immense whiskers, told me in confidence, that the only way he could persuade the yankee sailors to stand to their guns in his engagement with the gallant Dacres, was by promising them, in case of victory, to roast the fat black cook of the Constellation, as his ship was called, for supper. Nothing will make these cannibal republicans fight like a temptation of this sort.

Charleston is about the size of Boston, but has neither pavements nor sidewalks, and alternates between mud and dust, and dust and mud. In summer it is all dust, in winter all mud. Indeed I began to perceive, the moment I arrived here, that I had got amongst a different sort of people from those of Boston. There was no one to be seen in the streets but negroes stark naked as they were born, with their backs striped like a leopard in consequence of the frequent application of the lash. In fact, the principal article for sale here at the retail shops, is the cow-hide, as it is called, that is, a hard ox skin, twisted in the shape of a whip. Almost every man you see has one of these in his hand, and a spur at his heel, to make people believe he carries the whip for his horse. But I was assured by the head waiter at the city hotel, kept by Mr. Chester Jennings, in Charleston, that it was for the purpose of beating the slaves. Nothing indeed will tempt the whites to exert themselves in this enervating climate, but the luxury "of licking a fellow," as they call it, and almost the first thing I noticed in coming into the city, was a tall, lank, cadaverous figure, strutting up and down, cutting and hacking with his cow-hide at every negro man, woman, and child, that came in his way. I inquired of the driver what these blacks had been guilty of. "Guilty," replied he, "guilty—eh!— O, lord bless you sir, it's only Judge D— amusing himself with the niggers." It made my heart bleed to see the blood running down their backs. It was almost as bad as shooting the Irish peasants for being out after nine o'clock.

I had scarcely been at my hotel an hour when this same Judge D— called upon me, as a stranger, and invited me to dinner the next day. My blood rose up against the brute, but as I wished to see whether some of the stories told about these people, and which they deny, were true, I accepted his invitation. The party consisted of Judge D—'s wife, two daughters, and about a dozen of the principal men of the place, among whom was the governor of South-Carolina, Mr. Heister. Behind each of the seats, as well the judge's as those of his lady, and daughters, stood a black boy or girl, as it happened, perfectly naked, and each of the guests were provided with a cow-hide, with which to chastise any neglect of duty on the part of the slaves. There was cut and come again. The judge and his guests cut their meat and cut the negroes ad interim, and I particularly noticed the dexterity of the young ladies in touching the tender places with the cow-hide, as well as their infinite delight in seeing them wince under the application. One of these poor wretches having the misfortune to break a plate during dinner, was taken out, put under the window by the overseer, and beat so cruelly that her moans were heard over half the city. When she came in again, the tears were rolling down her cheeks, and the blood trickling down her naked back. The indifference with which every one of the company but myself beheld all this, convinced me that it was the custom of the country.

The dinner was, in the main, good enough. That is to say, there was a plenty of things naturally good, but what was very remarkable, it was brought up in wooden dishes, out of which they all helped themselves with their fingers, knives and forks not being in use in America, except among a few English people. There was a very suspicious dish on the table, which they called terrapin soup, in which I observed what had exactly the appearance of the fingers and toes of little negroes. I afterwards learned that this was actually the case, and that terrapin is the cant name for black childern, as papoose is for those of the Indians. During the dessert, an unlucky slave happened to let fall a knife to which he was helping his mistress, who snatched it up in a great passion and gave him a deep gash in the face. I dropt my knife and fork in astonishment, but nobody else seemed to notice this horrible incident.

The next morning I strolled out into the fields with a view of seeing the system of rural economy practised in the south. One of the best managed plantations, I was told, was that of his excellency Governor Hancock, whose name is signed to the declaration of independence, said to be written by one Jefferson, a player belonging to the Philadelphia theatre. The governor is a brisk, troublesome little man, about forty. His plantation is at a place called Merrimack, on the river of that name. I saw plenty of slaves, and a scarcity of every thing else. The principal products are rice, cotton, and tobacco. The rice grows generally upon the high grounds; but the cotton requires to be covered with water occasionally. The best is called Sea Island, because it grows upon little islands in the mill ponds, which the people here, according to their universal practice of hyperbole, call seas. As for the tobacco, this filthy and unwholesome weed is found to flourish best in the negro grave-yards, where it is commonly raised, and where you may every day during the month of January, when it is ripe, see the children of the slaves gathering it from the very graves of their parents. This tobacco is used as food by men, women, and children, who eat it as we do sallad. Here I saw the poor negroes working bare-headed, and I might say bare backed, in the broiling sun, which sometimes actually sets fire to their woolly heads, of which I saw several examples in the course of my travels. Two or three heads were already beginning to smoke, and I was told if I staid half an hour longer, I might see them in a blaze. However, having seen enough to convince me that the system of farming here was execrable, and finding it getting rather cold, I returned home by another route, which gave me an opportunity of seeing Yale college.

In reconnoitring about, I fell in with one of the professors, to whom, willing to see whether the poor man understood Latin, I paid my compliments in forma pauperis. The professor, after staring at me with a most ludicrous expression of ignorant wonder, asked me whence I came, and upon my answering "last from Charleston, South-Carolina," shrugged up his shoulders and replied, "it was really so far off, that he could not undertake to direct me," although the steeples were full in sight! From this we may judge of the state of learning and information on this side the Pacific. Being determined to hoax these poor souls, I filled a box with pebbles, old mortar, and pieces of brick bats, which I sent to the faculty as a valuable suite of American minerals; whereupon they unanimously bestowed upon me the degree of doctor of laws. There were some vitrified masses I picked up near an old glass-house which caused great speculation, being considered unquestionable volcanic productions. When questioned as to their locality, I sent them on a wild goose chase in search of a burning mountain.

Becoming tired of Charleston, its negroes and turkey buzzards, (which the turbulent spirit of democracy has dubbed eagles,) and desirous of getting to New-Orleans as early as possible, I took a seat in the stage for Portsmouth, New-Hampshire, and departed before daylight the next morning. When it should have been daylight, the fog was so thick it was impossible to see the leaders, and I expressed some apprehension. One of the passengers assured me, however, that as the driver was drunk, as a matter of course, daylight was of no consequence— it was trusting to Providence at all events. Indeed, I am assured by persons of veracity, that travellers in this country place their chief dependence on the horses, who, being left pretty much to themselves, in consequence of the intoxication of the drivers, acquire a singular discretion, and seldom run away except when the driver is sober. Thus we travelled under the guidance of instinct, till near ten o'clock, when objects gradually became visible along the road. The driver about this time waked up, and I was congratulating myself on his appearing sober; but the same communicative passenger assured me it was of no consequence, for he would be drunk again by the time breakfast was over.

I had heard a great deal about the populousness of the country in the neighbourhood of Boston; but I can safely affirm, that during the whole of this morning's ride, I saw neither house nor human being along the road. We heard indeed a deal of barking and howling at no great distance, which the communicative passenger assured me was that of various kinds of wild beasts, that abound in these parts. He told me they frequently surrounded the stage, devoured the horses, and if their hunger was not then satisfied, topped off with the driver and passengers. Indeed, what with mail robberies, which happened almost every night, and attacks of wild beasts, there was little hope of getting to the end of a journey of a dozen miles alive. "Boutez en avant," roared out a little Frenchman in a corner, taking a great pinch of snuff at the same time. All this, thought I, comes of the turbulent spirit of democracy.

Breakfasting at a little town, which, like all other towns in this country, is called the city of Hartford, I saw a young lady devour thirty-six cucumbers, moistened with a quart of vinegar. After which, she sat down, played Lodoiska on the piano, and then went into the field to pull onions. Such horrible incongruities are generated in the rankness of democracy! There was a child of about eight years old in the room, who called for an antifogmatic, which he drank off at one swallow, after which he lighted a cigar and amused himself with singeing the woolly pate of a little black boy, or terrapin, as they call them when made into soup. According to the prediction of the communicative passenger, the driver was nodding again on his seat, in less than half an hour after starting. I was so provoked that I threatened to lick him, as the naval officer said at Boston. But the communicative passenger cautioned me against this, assuring me the driver was a man of great consequence—a member of congress—judge of the court—colonel of militia—justice of the peace— deacon of the church—constable and keeper of the county jail withal. "So," continued the communicative passenger, "he can issue a warrant— take you in custody—try you for an assault—clap you in jail—keep watch over you when there— and finally have you prayed against by the whole congregation." "Diable!" exclaimed the little Frenchman in broken English; "these democrat yankees have as many offices as their citizen hogs have hind legs." "Why, how many legs have our citizen hogs, as you call them, Monsieur?" replied the communicative passenger. "Why, eight at least," said the other, "or they could never furnish the millions of hams which I see every where. Diable! I have breakfasted upon ham— dined upon ham—and supped upon ham, every day since I arrived in this country. Yes, sir, it is certain your pigs must have at least eight hams a piece;" upon which he politely offered me a pinch of snuff, which I refused with cold dignity. If I know myself, I have no national prejudices; but I do hate Frenchmen.

Though anxious to gain information, I cannot condescend to mix with these rank republicans, ask questions, and take the usual means of gaining it. I wanted to know the reason of such a multiplicity of offices being united in one person; but it was enough for me to permit these low-lived scum of democracy to give me information, without demeaning myself to ask for it. Luckily the little Frenchman, like all his detestable countrymen, was fond of talking. "Pray," said he, "how comes it that his honour the colonel, deacon, stage-driver, has so many offices; or, as you yankees say, so many irons in the fire? One would think that men were as scarce in this country, as hams are plenty." "Why, the truth is," replied the communicative traveller, "that being one of three persons out of the whole county that can read, it is necessary he should labour in a variety of vocations, for the good of his country. Besides, as every democrat is by nature and habit a drunkard, a sober man among them, is like a good singer at a feast; the one is knocked down for all the songs, and the other is under the necessity of playing a sort of jack-of-all-trades." "Diable!" exclaimed the little Frenchman, "do you call this colonel stage-driver a sober man?" "Why not exactly," replied the other; "but this valuable person has been drinking so long, and so constantly, that habit has become second nature, and he is never so wise, valiant, discreet, and pious, as when he is full charged with apple brandy." So much for the spirit of democracy, thought I.

The country through which we passed, every where exhibits traces of the lazy, ragged, and dirty genius of democracy; who prides himself on his beggary, and riots in the want of all those elegancies which-civilized nations consider essential to existence. A few miserable negro huts, without roof or windows, and a few half-starved, half-naked negroes, dot the sterile landscape here and there. The only white people we saw, were a knot of half-drunken savages, assembled about a log hut, shooting at a mark. Here we stopped to water the horses, and I looked about to see the mark at which they were trying their skill. "You are curious," said the communicative traveller, "to know what they are shooting at. Look at that little negro. They will tie him to yonder post anon, and shoot at him till he is torn to atoms, as they do at turkeys, for sixpence a shot." Another proof of the horrible spirit of democracy. The person who gave me this information added, that when they had finished this trial of skill, they would, in all probability, turn to and take a few shots at each other for mere amusement.

We arrived at Portsmouth, an inland town, capital of Georgia, where being heartily sick of this bundling, guessing, tippling den of democracy, I thought I would, for once, depart from my ordinary rule, and inquire when I might calculate on getting to New-Orleans? I accordingly put the question to the landlord; but the little impatient Frenchman who was close at my heels took the word—"New-Orleans! Diable! are you going to New-Orleans, Monsieur?" Thinking his surprise might have some connexion with the yellow-fever, I was thrown off my guard, and before I knew it, condescended to answer—"Yes, I am," but with cold dignity. The little villain took a huge pinch of snuff, blew his nose like a trumpet, and exclaimed— "To New-Orleans! You are going to New-Orleans, and I am going away from it as fast as I possibly can! One of us must be going the wrong way, that's certain. Pray," said he, turning to the communicative traveller, "will Monsieur be good enough to tell me whether I am travelling north or south, to New-Orleans or Passamaquoddy?" "Due north—in the very eye of the North star—to Passamaquoddy, and not to New-Orleans, Monsieur," answered the other. "Monsieur," said the little villain, turning to me, and offering a pinch of snuff with a low bow—"Monsieur, when you get into a stage coach, do you ever condescend to inquire where it is going? I am an old traveller, and as we are going to part, never perhaps to meet again, let me conjure you, by the memory of your ancestors and the victory of Waterloo, never to set out on a journey without inquiring whither you are going? However, Monsieur, it is an ill wind that blows nobody good. I am going no farther North than this place, shall finish my business here this afternoon, and to-morrow, if Monsieur pleases, we will set out for the South, which I assure you is the very best way to New-Orleans." "And I," said the communicative traveller, "shall also return in the morning, and mean to go South as far as the city of Charleston, so that we shall have the pleasure of each other's company, for a thousand miles at least." "A thousand miles!" replied I, for here again surprise overcame my dignified reserve—"Why, I thought"—. But I stopt short, being unwilling to give the little rascal of a Frenchman another laugh, by letting him into the secret of a certain blunder which shall be nameless. "On the whole," observed the communicative traveller, "you have not lost much by this little ride out of your way. You have had an opportunity of seeing one of the finest and best cultivated parts of the country; and a portion of the most moral, as well as enlightened of the people. And you have lost no time by the little excursion, for I am credibly informed, such has been the mortality at New-Orleans, that there is not a single human being left alive there. Nay, the very dogs, cats, and parrots are extinct. You may as well wait, therefore, till it is peopled again, which will be very soon, for the folks in this country, particularly the democrats, don't mind dying in the summer, if they can only have a merry winter before hand." Here our conversation was interrupted by a loud cry of "Help—murder—help!" proceeding from an adjoining room. On running in to see what was the matter, we found a son of the landlord, (who by the way was a general,) about eight years of age, had thrown his mother down on the floor, and was beating, biting, scratching, and mauling her in a dreadful manner, while the general stood by laughing and clapping his hands in ecstacy every moment crying out, "That's it —that's my fine fellow—O! he'll make a brave republican!" Such are the first lessons of children in this chosen land of bundling, gouging, drunkenness, impertinence, impiety—and, to sum up all in one word, democracy.

Heaven be praised, thought I, the force of democracy can go no further; but I was mistaken with a vengeance. Just at this moment we had a terrible explosion, which I at first thought was the little Frenchman sneezing—but it turned out, on inquiry, to be something of a far different nature. Though my heart sickens at the bare recital, I shall give the story, for the benefit of all the admirers of democracy.

It seems a fellow of the name of Ramsbottom, a man-milliner by trade, and a roaring patriot, had taken offence at a neighbour, whose name was Higginbottom, because his wife had attempted to cheapen a crimped tucker, and afterwards reported that he sold his articles much dearer than his rival man-milliner over the way, whose name was Winterbottom, and whose next door neighbour, one Oddy, was Winterbottom's particular friend. In the pure spirit of democracy, Ramsbottom determined to dirk not only Higginbottom and his wife, and Winterbottom, and Oddy, and their wives; but all the young Higginbottoms, Winterbottoms, Oddys, and little Oddities. It was some years before Ramsbottom could get them all together, so as to make one job of it. At last he collected the whole party at his own house, to spend their Christmas eve, and determined to execute his diabolical purpose. It appears, however, from what followed, that he had previously changed his mind as to the dirking, probably because it was too much trouble, (for these democrats hate trouble above all things.) Just as they were up to the eyes in a Christmas pye, the explosion took place which I had just heard, and the whole party, Ramsbottom, Higginbottom, Winterbottom, and Oddy, together with their wives, and all the little Ramsbottoms, Winterbottoms, Higginbottoms, Oddys and Oddities were all blown into such small atoms, that not a vestige of them was to be found. I saw their bodies afterwards, all terribly mangled and torn to pieces. Such is the intense and neverdying spirit of vengeance, generated by the turbulent spirit of democracy, that the desperado, Ramsbottom, it appears, did not scruple, like the republican Samson of old, to pull down destruction on himself, that he might be revenged on his enemies.

CHAP. III.

Little Frenchman—Treatment of Slaves—Mode of baking saw-dust cakes—Kitchen-furniture—Spirit of Democracy—Apostrophe— Mode of paying bills by the Yankees and French— Little Frenchman again—Solitary inn—Attempt to rob and murder the author—Bandit disguised as a stage-driver—Arrival at Boston—Gives the little Frenchman the slip.

In order to get rid of the little Frenchman, with his confounded mahogany face, gold ear-rings, and dimity breeches, who seemed inclined to be impertinently jocular with my mistaking the way to New-Orleans, I determined to say nothing, but defer my journey a day longer. Accordingly I apprized the landlord of my intention, and suffered the stage to depart without me. With a view to keep up my dignity, as well as to acquire all the information possible, in relation to the country, its people, and manners, I determined to remain in my room all day, take my meals in dignified retirement, and seize every opportunity of questioning the waiter. From him I gathered many precious items, concerning the blessed effects of the turbulent spirit of democracy.

He solemnly assured me, that all the servants eat off the kitchen floor in these parts, which, instead of boards, is usually floored with mud, well trodden by the pigs, which, in this land of equality, are admitted to all the privileges of citizenship, vote at elections, and, I believe, are eligible to the highest offices, provided they are natural born pigs. On my inquiry how they understood the votes of these freeholders, he replied, that a grunt was always considered as a suffrage in favour of the democratic ticket, and a squeak for the federal or aristocratic party. Hence abundance of pains is taken to teach the pigs either to grunt or squeal, according as their owners belonged to one or other party; and many a vote was changed by certain sly pinches of the pigs ears, as they were brought up to give their suffrages.

The waiter further informed me, in the course of my investigations into the kitchen, that the poor servants, who are all blacks and slaves in this part of the country, had neither beds nor covering at night, but all pigged together in the same ashes, where they often squabbled and fought all night, either to get near a little live coal, or to keep each other warm by exercise. As to food, one may guess, as these vulgar democrats say—one may guess what that is, when I state, on the information of the waiter, that the week before I came to Portsmouth, in this very kitchen, a murder was committed by one gentleman of colour, on another, in consequence of a dispute about the property of a bone, which had been picked six days in succession. The murderer at last seized the bone, hit his adversary on the temple, and killed him instantly; after which he buried him in the mud of the kitchen, and sat himself quietly down to gnaw his bone. The waiter further stated, that they were allowed no cooking utensils, and that the way they generally baked their bread, which is altogether of saw-dust, was to lie down at night with their feet to the fire, on the soles of which they placed the cake. They then go to sleep, and by the time the cake begins to burn their feet so as to wake them, it is done. This saw-dust bread is their chief food; but candour obliges me to state, that once in a great while they are treated to a bit of spoiled codfish, or tainted pork, which makes them almost run mad with ecstacy. Determined to make the most of this meeting with such an intelligent fellow, I continued to question him concerning the number of pots, kettles, stew-pans, &c. in the kitchen— their state, quality, and condition—whether they had any knives and forks allowed them, and if the latter had three prongs? Whether the little negroes were taught their prayers; and whether the pigs were permitted to eat out of the same dish with them? Touching the pots and kettles, he assured me, upon his honour, that there was but one pot, with one ear, in the whole establishment; that the kettle was still worse off than the pot, having had no handle within the memory of man; that the only knife they had was half a stump of a blade, without edge or point, which, however, was rather a lucky circumstance, since, as they were always fighting at meals on account of the scarcity prevailing, they would do mischief if they had knives; that, as to forks, it was the landlady's maxim that fingers were made before knives and forks; that the little people of colour were taught nothing but swearing, and that the pigs always breakfasted before them, on account of being considered freeholders, and entitled to vote.

In this way I gained more insight into the nature of the turbulent spirit of democracy, than if I had mixed with half the people of the town, and asked as many questions as a yankee democrat. Indeed I had read in all our books of travels, that these bundling, gouging republicans, although they asked a dozen questions in a minute, were principled against answering any. This I was told by the waiter, arose, in a great degree, from almost every white man being generally in court a dozen or twenty times a year, for some offence or other, (principally that of murder,) by which means they got a habit of being shy in answering interrogatories. "But," said I, at the conclusion of my examination, "how does it happen that you are so plump and well clad, if your fellows are thus naked and starved?" "Why," replied the fellow, showing his white teeth from ear to ear— "Why, if master must know, I make a point of helping myself out of the dishes, as I go in and out; and my master keeps me well dressed, for the honour of the house." Alas! thought I to myself, here is another proof of the demoralizing effects of slavery! This honest man is obliged to descend to the degradation of rifling apple tarts, and embezzling mouthfuls of mutton, to keep himself from starving!—O, Wilberforce! well mayest thou endanger the lives of all the white people of the West Indies, in thy attempts to benefit the blacks!—O, Buxton! well mayest thou be permitted to poison half the people of London with thine execrable small beer, in consideration of thy godlike philanthropy!— And, O, Betty Martin! well mayest thou be allowed to hunt, shoot, and hang up the wild Irish, in consideration of thine eloquent speeches in parliament, in behalf of brawned pigs, crammed turkies, and plugged lobsters!

In the evening I paid my bill, which seemed rather to astonish the landlord, and in truth it was a most swingeing one. At first I demurred—but upon the poor fellow assuring me he was obliged to charge strangers, particularly Englishmen, treble, and sometimes quadruple, to make up for the losses sustained by his own countrymen, and the Frenchmen, who generally went away without paying at all, I paid him with the air of an English nobleman, expecting he would dub me My Lord; but he received the money with perfect indifference, and did not even condescend to bow or thank me. Such is the influence of the turbulent spirit of democracy!

In the morning, as usual in all parts of this country, we set forth before daylight, so that I could not see my fellow-passengers. Two reasons combine to produce this republican custom of travelling before day, and after dark. In the first place, it gives opportunity for robbing the stages, the drivers and owners of which, as I am assured, are, generally, in league with the bands of robbers which infest all parts of this country, to the number, sometimes, of two or three thousand in a band. In the second place, as there is generally one or two pick-pockets in every stage-coach, and forty or fifty in every steam-boat, the darkness gives a capital scope for the exercise of this fashionable republican vocation. Aware of this, I always rode with my hands in my pockets, and was now indulging in this salutary precaution, when a sudden jolt of the jarvie brought my head in full contact with the back of a passenger on the seat before me. "Diable!" exclaimed a voice which seemed to be familiar to me, and then all was silent again. Not long after, there exploded a sneeze which shook the whole vehicle. "My G—d!" ejaculated I, "I'm sure I've heard that sneeze before; it must be my little Frenchman!"—But there was no help for it now, and I determined to keep him at an awful distance.

Daylight showed the mahogany face, gold ear-rings, and dimity breeches of the little Frenchman, and by his side the communicative traveller. All at once it occurred to my mind, that these two men were accomplices in some scheme for robbing me. What confirmed me in the suspicion was, the confounded civilities of the little Frenchman, who expressed infinite pleasure on the occasion, and offered me a pinch of snuff every two minutes. "We thought we had lost you," said he "and were regretting the absence of such an agreeable companion." I made no reply but by a stiff inclination of the head, and continued with my hands in my pockets, my pocket-book in one, and my watch in the other. "Pray, Monsieur, what a clock is it?" said the Frenchman. Aha! thought I, are you thereabouts? So I told him my watch had run down, and held it faster than ever.

This mode of disposing of my hands was very inconvenient on these rough democratic roads, and occasioned me to bounce about, to the no small annoyance of these Jonathans, who threw out divers unmannerly hints, which I treated with perfect contempt. "He must have his pockets full of guineas," said the little Frenchman in a whisper, winking at the same time at the communicative traveller. I understood all this perfectly, and when we stopt to dine, managed to exhibit a neat pair of hair triggers to these two worthies, who exchanged very significant looks thereupon. "It won't do," observed one to the other, in a desponding tone.

The house we put up at for the night was in a lonely wood, at a distance of several miles from any human habitation. The owls whooped, the wolves howled, the whippoorwills whistled, the frogs croaked, the caty-dids, caty-didded it, the crickets chirped, and every sound seemed fraught with melancholy thoughts and mournful anticipations. During supper, and afterwards, I perceived an exchange of mysterious looks between the Frenchman, his companion, the landlord, and his wife, and detected them in various secret conferences. In one of these I overheard the landlady say, in reply to some question of the communicative traveller, who seemed to be an old acquaintance, "we killed him last night, poor old creature; I was almost sorry for him." My blood ran cold— some poor old traveller, doubtless, thought I.

Having very little doubt but there was a plan to rob and murder me in this lonely place, I determined to defeat it by sitting up all night with a pistol cocked in each hand, ready to defend myself. In spite of the hints and questions, and entreaties of the landlord and his wife, I persevered in my plan, although I was obliged to take to the kitchen fire, under pretence that they were going to make up a bed for themselves in the room where I was. In this situation I continued, a pistol ready cocked in each hand, until, as I judge, about two or three o'clock, when a door suddenly opened and a bandit cautiously entered with a dark lantern in his hand. Thinking there was no time to be lost, I let fly at him, and he fell flat on his face bellowing murder with all his might. Immediately there was a great stir; the landlord, his wife, children, servants, the stage passengers, and lastly the little Frenchman and the communicative traveller bounced in, helter skelter, crying out "what's the matter—what's the matter." I stood with the other pistol ready to fire, and bade them approach at their peril. "Diable!" exclaimed the little Frenchman, stooping down to examine the body, "he has killed our driver." "Not exactly," cried the fellow, jumping on his two legs as brisk as a grasshopper—"but if I don't have him up before the justice for shooting at a fellow for only coming in to light his lantern, to see to put together his horses, darn my soul." I insisted upon it, he was a genuine bandit, and that he had come into the kitchen on purpose to rob and murder, or at least keep me in custody till my friends paid my ransom. But I found they were all in league against me, and was finally glad to compound with the pretended stage-driver, by treating him to a pint of whiskey. It is thus that strangers are always served in this democratic paradise. They must either sit still and be murdered by inches, or pay a composition for defending themselves. To carry on the deception, the fellow with a dark lantern was actually mounted on the coach box, with a view, I suppose, of making a more successful attempt the next night. But in this he was disappointed, for the moment we got to Boston, I took my portmanteau under my arm, darted round a corner, and hid myself in a remote part of the city. In my retreat I heard the little Frenchman exclaim, "Diable! this is what you call taking French leave, I think."

CHAP. IV.

The author congratulates himself on having got rid of the little Frenchman—Is in danger of being twice robbed and murdered— Neglect of common decency in taverns and steam-boats— No knives and forks—Dirty hands and faces—Astonishing number of people with one eye, or two black eyes—Explanation of Governor Hancock—Gouging—Spirit of Democracy— Leaves Boston—Passes through Ohio, Alabama, and Connecticut— Attempt to rob the mail on Sunday by a foot-pad, who turns out to be a deacon of the church—Amusements of the people—Holy alliance—Bellows Falls—Steam-boats invented by Dr. Isaac Watts, who wrote the Book of Psalms—Ignorance of the Yankees of the points of the compass—Their mode of navigation—Little Frenchman again—Mode of deciding elections— Rudeness of boatmen and captain—Attempt of the little Frenchman to rob the author.

"Thank heaven," said I, "I've got rid of the little Frenchman, the bandit, and his whole crew," as I seated myself snugly in the quiet retreat of a hotel in a remote part of the city. I slept pretty soundly that night, with the exception of two attempts to rob and murder me, one by a person who opened my door, but who seeing the barking iron, shrunk back and pretended to have mistaken the room; the other by the chamber-maid, who came in after I had gone to bed with an excuse that she had forgot to put water in my pitcher. By the way nothing can equal the neglect of these turbulent democrats in all the common decencies of life, particularly washing their hands and faces. On board the steam-boats, where there are perhaps a hundred people, one does not see above two or three washing themselves of a morning. As they use no knives and forks, either for want of knowing their uses, or for fear the passengers would steal them, it is easy to conceive the disgust an Englishman must feel at seeing them diving in the dishes with their filthy fingers. Another characteristic feature of these people is, that more than one half of them want an eye, and those that happen to have two, generally exhibit a black ring round one or both. On inquiring into the cause of this peculiarity, I was told by his excellency, Governor Hancock, that men, women, and children, were so given to fighting and gouging, that it was next to a miracle to see one of them without the want of an eye, or at least a pair of black eyes, which is reckoned a great beauty in these parts. So much for the turbulent spirit of democracy, thought I to myself.

Having staid three days to give the little Frenchman, the bandit, and the rest of them a fair start, I thought I might safely proceed on to the south; accordingly I took passage in a stage and departed the fourth morning, as usual before day-light, for the convenience of being robbed and murdered on the way. This happens generally about three times a week; but it is in the true spirit of democracy to sport with property and life. Our road carried us through the states of Ohio, Alabama, and Connecticut, among the people of steady habits, as they are denominated. All I can say is, that the sooner they change these steady habits the better, for it will hardly be believed, that we had scarcely entered the confines of Connecticut, the very centre of steady habits, when, although it was Sunday, (a sufficient reason for deterring any christian highwaymen,) we were stopt by a footpad, who demanded money with as little compunction as a he-wolf. Upon my showing my pistols, however, he sheered off, and the driver whipping up his horses at the moment, we luckily escaped this time. The incident of a single foot-pad attempting thus to rob a whole stage load of people, furnishes another proof of the fact, that stage-drivers and stage-owners, not to say a majority of stage-passengers, are accomplices of these bands of robbers. Had it not been for my pistols, we should all have been robbed to a certainty, and most probably the rest of the passengers would have shared my spoils. What exhibits the turbulent and impious spirit of democracy in all its turpitude, is the fact that the driver, after getting fairly out of sight, turned round to the passengers with a grin, and exclaimed, "I guess I've distanced the deacon." So that this foot-pad was one of the pillars of the church!

I have nothing to add in addition to these disgusting details, except that as far as my sight could reach on either side of the road, I could see nobody at work but the poor gentlemen of colour, half clothed, as usual. The white people were for the most part employed in getting drunk at the taverns, running horses, fighting cocks, or gouging one another's eyes out—the women sitting along the road, chewing tobacco, and spitting in the faces of passers by; and the little boys and girls were pretty much engaged in beating their parents. To vary these amusements, they sometimes made a party to hunt a little naked negro with their dogs, which I observed were all blood-hounds. My heart bled to see these cruel mastiffs, less cruel indeed than the turbulent spirit of democracy, tugging at their naked haunches, and I could not help invoking the philanthropic genius of the holy alliance to interfere in behalf of these oppressed beings.

About five in the afternoon we arrived at Bellows Falls, at the mouth of the Ohio, where I embarked in the steam-boat for New-York. These steam-boats, all the world knows, were invented by Isaac Watts, who wrote the book of psalms. Yet the spirit of democracy, as usual, has claimed the honour for one Moulton, or Fulton, I forget which; although it is a notorious fact, that Isaac Watts died before this Fulton was born. This settles the question. But there is no stopping the mouth of a genuine democrat. Our course lay upon a river which the Yankees call the East river, although, to my certain knowledge, it runs directly west. But it would be tasking the ignorant spirit of democracy too much to suppose its votaries could possibly tell the points of the compass. Indeed I was credibly informed, that their most experienced navigators universally judge of their course within soundings by the colour of the mud or sand, which adheres to the lead, and when this fails them, trust to Providence.

While sitting in a state of indolent and contemptuous abstraction, with my back to as many of the company as possible, I was roused by a sneeze, that I could have sworn to in any part of the world. "It is the c—d little Frenchman! Here's Monsieur Tonson come again!" I would as soon have heard the last trumpet as this infernal explosion. In a few minutes he espied me, and coming up with the most provoking expression of old acquaintanceship, offered me a pinch of snuff—"Ah! Monsieur, I am so happy! Diable!—my friend and I thought we had lost our agreeable companion;" and, thereupon, he made me a delectable low French bow, that brought his long nose within an inch of the deck—he then left me for a moment, and returned with his friend the veritable communicative traveller, who had the insolence to claim acquaintance, from having travelled a few days in the same stage with me. A good sample of the forward, impudent spirit of democracy! I expected every moment to see the great bandit with his dark lantern, to complete the trio, but for some reason or other he didn't make his appearance. "Ah! Monsieur," cried the little Frenchman, "you don't know how we have missed your agreeable society. Diable! we have not had a good laugh since we parted." Then he offered me a pinch of snuff, a civility which he repeated at least a hundred times, in the course of the day, though I always declined it in the most dignified and contemptuous manner.

Disgusted with every thing I saw, and most especially with this rencontre, I determined to mortify these free and easy gentry, by taking not the least notice of any person whatever, and going without my dinner, on purpose to spite them. Many of the women looked hard at me, with an evident desire to be taken notice of; but I always turned my head away, resolved to have nothing to say to them. Several persons also came round, and made attempts to engage me in conversation, but I answered them in monosyllables, and they went away, whistling to hide their mortification. My contempt for the little Frenchman increased every moment, by observing the pains he took to be agreeable. He talked, laughed, bowed, offered his box to every one that came in his way, and complimented the women, till all were delighted with him, and he seemed as much at home as if he had been born and brought up among them. Despicable subserviency! contemptible hypocrisy! to pretend to be pleased with these scum of democracy.

When the dinner-bell rang I remained on deck, until one of the waiters came up to tell me dinner was ready. I took no notice of him. In a few minutes the little Frenchman assailed me. "Is Monsieur ill?" "No!" said I. "No? Eh bien— what is the matter? Ah! I guess, as these Yankees say. If Monsieur has no money, never mind, I will pay for his dinner." Come, come, I replied in great wrath, at his infernal mistake, upon which he went down, and as I afterwards learned, proposed a subscription for a poor passenger, who was obliged to go without his dinner, for want of money to pay for it. One may judge of the humanity of these people, from the fact that not one of them contributed a cent. One woman turned up her nose, and exclaimed, "Marry come up— I thought as much; pride and poverty generally go together." Another declared she would not give a pin, to save such a rude humgruffian from starving; and a third pronounced me a strolling player out of employ. The communicative traveller, on coming up after dinner, endeavoured to comfort me for the loss of my meal, by observing I had not missed much by it. "There is nothing but snatching and quarrelling for the favourite bits, and the ladies did nothing but scold, and pull caps. Then it is, just as likely as not, you would have been seated between two greasy engine men in red flannel shirts, one a negro perhaps, (for they all dine together,) who would have made no scruple of gouging one of your eyes out, if you had happened to get possession of one of their tit-bits. You were well out of the scrape." Glorious spirit of democracy, thought I to myself.

Towards evening the boat stopped at a place called the city of Annapolis. Every thing is a city here. A blacksmith's shop, with a church, and a pig-sty, is a city, and must have its corporation, if it be only that the spirit of democracy may revel in a little brief authority. An office of any kind is their darling, and a whole state will be convulsed about the election of a constable. These elections are generally carried in the last resort by the cudgel and gouging; and I am assured that the number of one-eyed people, and people with black rings round their eyes, is generally doubled by one of these struggles of principle. As we approached the wharf, I was standing among a coil of ropes, with my back towards the great city, when one of these sticklers for equality, in a red flannel shirt, came up and desired me to move out of the way. The fellow was civil enough, for that matter, but I only answered his impertinent intrusion with a look of withering contempt.— Upon this, he gathered a part of the rope in coils, in his right hand, and when we were ten or a dozen yards from the wharf, threw it with all his force, with a design to knock a person down, who stood there. But the chap was too dexterous for him, and caught the end of the rope in his hands, which he immediately fastened to a post. The whole brunt of this Yankee joke fell upon me, for my feet being entangled in the end of the rope thus thrown, it tripped up my heels and laid me sprawling on the deck. The little Frenchman officiously helped me up, and offered me a pinch of snuff, by way of comfort; but as for the democratic gentry, they seemed rather to enjoy the thing, and if the truth was known, I dare say were at the bottom of the joke. I cursed the fellow heartily; but he coolly answered—"'Twas your own fault; I asked you to get out of the way." So much for the turbulent spirit of democracy.

I stept ashore, to escape the giggling of these polite republicans, and rambled to the distance of a couple of hundred yards. While here, I heard a bell toll, and then a hallooing, and saw them making signals for me to come on board; but I was determined to treat them all with silent contempt, and continued my walk in a direction the other way. The shouting continued, and I don't know how far I might have strolled, if I had not been suddenly roused by the noise of the boat's wheels. Turning round, I found the vessel was fairly under way; whereupon I condescended to run and halloo as hard as I could bawl. After some little delay the wheels were stopped, and a boat sent off to take me on board, where, instead of making an apology, the brute of a captain told me I deserved to have been left behind. "If it had not been for the persuasions of your friend," pointing to the little Frenchman, "you might have staid ashore till next trip, and welcome." "My friend," exclaimed I, turning to the officious little mahogany man with a look of withering contempt, which he returned by offering his box, and assuring me he would not have lost my charming society for the world. These persevering civilities on his part, and especially this last impertinent interference, confirmed me in my suspicions, that there was a deep-laid plan to rob and murder me the first convenient opportunity. What added weight to these apprehensions, was the fact of my continually detecting him and his companion, the communicative traveller, conferring together every now and then, with divers shrugs on the part of the Frenchman, and significant smiles on that of his friend.

When we came to draw lots for our births, it was so managed by the captain, (who was no doubt an accomplice,) that I drew a birth in a remote part of the vessel, forward. But, owing to some failure in the plot, the little Frenchman and his companion, both drew births in the after cabin, which I perceived disconcerted them not a little. But they soon rectified the mistake; for upon the complaints of two feeble old gentlemen, that they should find it fatiguing to go into the forward cabin, the Frenchman seized the pretext, and with one of his confounded low bows, offered his birth to one of the cripples, while his companion did the same to the other. I saw through all this, and determined to play them a trick, by lying awake all night, to watch them, with my pistols ready.

Late in the night, and when all the lights were out, I heard somebody get out of a birth on the opposite side where the little Frenchman slept.— The person went upon deck, and after staying a minute or two, groped his way down again, and cautiously approached where I lay, with my pistol cocked. Presently he laid his hand upon my throat, doubtless with an intent to choak me first, and rob me afterwards, at leisure. At this instant I fired my pistol, just as the little Frenchman ejaculated, in a whisper, "Diable! I am lost!" Confusion reigned, lights were brought, and the whole affair was disclosed. I solemnly charged the little Frenchman, who had escaped my shot, with an attempt to rob and murder me; while he as solemnly asseverated, that he had got up upon a necessary occasion, and, on his return, took the right hand instead of the left, by which means he had encountered my birth instead of his own, which was directly opposite. The passengers, captain and all, being, without doubt, accomplices in this attempt, sided with the Frenchman; believed every word he said, and gravely advised me to take care how I fired pistols in the cabin of a steam-boat. This was all the satisfaction I got for this nefarious attempt. The little Frenchman even had the assurance to play the injured party, and actually offered to forget and forgive. "It was all a mistake," said he, "and let us think no more of it." So he offered me a pinch of snuff, which I rejected with dignified contempt.

CHAP. V.

Frogs-Neck—Bull-Frogs—Hell-Gate—Impious spirit of democracy— Mode of passing Hell-Gate— Fondness of the Yankees for dying accounted for—Dutch courage—Mr. Robert James— Country seats—Sandy-Hook—Navy-Yard, &c.—Little Frenchman— Author takes lodgings with a gentleman of colour at the Hotel des Huitres —Bill of exchange—Unprincipled behaviour of the Yankee merchant—Quarterly Review—Description of New-York— Basis of republicanism—Agrarian Law—Quarterly— Classification of the citizens of New-York—Extensive circulation of the Quarterly Review—Gratitude of the people of colour— Beggarly pride of republicanism—Propensity to thieving among the higher classes—Picture of the manners and morals of the people, drawn by the landlord—Quantity of flies and moschetoes—Law against killing spiders—Little Frenchman, &c.

About daylight I was roused by a most horrible noise, which resembled nothing I had ever heard before. On going upon deck, I perceived the whole surface of the water, as far as the eye could reach, covered with immense bull-frogs, who leapt and croaked, to the infinite delight of these tasteful democrats, who were all gathered together to hear this charming concert, which they would prefer to the commemoration of Handel. Some of the largest of these frogs actually jumped upon deck, and a canoe alongside was nearly upset by three or four of them clambering up its sides, at one and the same time. The place is called Frog's Neck, and never was there a spot more aptly named. There is a little settlement near this, called New-Rochelle, peopled by Frenchmen, who were doubtless attracted by the frogs. But such is the ardour of these refined republicans, for this species of music, that the legislature has enacted a law, making it death to kill one of these delightful musicians. To kill a man here is a trifle—but to kill a frog is capital!

Shortly after leaving Frog's Neck, we came to the famous pass of Hell Gate, as it is impiously called by the profane spirit of democracy. It is the Scilly and Charybdis of the new world, and nothing but the special protection of Providence can account for the few deliverances that happen to these reckless republicans in passing it, which they do every hour of the day and night. As soon as they begin to distinguish its roaring, which can be heard at a distance of thirty miles, except when the frog concert intervenes, all hands, captain, pilot, and the rest, set to and drink apple brandy, or whiskey, so that by the time they come to the Hog's Back, they are as drunk as swine. They then lie down flat on their faces and let the vessel take her course. This preparatory tippling is what they impiously call receiving "extreme unction," and preparing for death, which the communicative traveller assured me not more than one out of three escaped on an average. I could not help expressing my wonder, that these people should thus recklessly sport with their lives. "O, as to that," replied he, "what with the curse of democracy, the grinding oppressions of unrestrained liberty, together with the total insecurity of property under mob law; and the total insecurity of person, in consequence of the universal practice of robbery and murder, of which you have had ample experience,—I say, what with all this, ninety-nine in a hundred of these, my wretched countrymen, would as soon die as not, and some of them a great deal rather, only to escape the blessings of democracy." "But," said I, "why don't these miserable creatures say their prayers, and make some little preparation to die like christians, instead of thus beastifying themselves?" "O," answered he, with a coolness that made me shudder, "this is what we call Dutch courage; and I assure you, upon my credit, that I never knew a genuine brother Jonathan who could be brought to face an enemy, or die with decency, unless he had his SKIN full of whiskey, and was well `corned,' as we say. This was the way in which we gained all our victories last war both by sea and land." Good, thought I, here is the testimony of one of their own countrymen. Mr. James shall add this to his apologies for Blue and Buff, in his next edition.

This conversation happened after safely passing this tremendous strait, which we did as it were by miracle. Betwixt this and New-York, the communicative traveller pointed out to me some two or three of what he called magnificent country seats, which seemed to me about the size of a pigeonhouse. I took no notice of him or them, but affected to be in a fit of abstraction, with my eyes fixed on vacancy. Turning the point of Sandy-Hook, we came in full sight of the city, its bay, and islands. I saw that several of these people were watching to detect in me some symptoms of surprise or admiration, so I resolved to disappoint them, and turned my back to the city, keeping my eyes fixed on the opposite shore. The communicative traveller, supposing I was looking at the Navy-Yard, where several large ships were lying, observed: "That is the Cyane, near the red store. Or perhaps you mean the other—that is the Macedonian—or perhaps you mean the one next her—that is —." I could stand it no longer, but was fain to turn round and look at their detestable city.

When we came near the wharf, the little Frenchman came up to me with a low bow and the offer of his box as usual. "I hope Monsieur, my friend and myself shall take lodgings together. As we are strangers in a strange place, 'tis pity we should part. I assure you I shall not rob Monsieur," said he, with an impertinent, significant smile. I told him at last I should lodge that night on board, and depart the next day in the same boat I came. "What!" replied he, "is Monsieur going to New-Orleans again? But in truth we are sorry to lose your very agreeable company, Monsieur, and hope we shall meet again when you come back from New-Orleans." So saying, he bowed profoundly low and departed, accompanied by his friend, and by my most devout wishes never to set eyes upon either of them again.

Desirous to avoid any public attentions, and most especially to escape the honour of being made a citizen of New-York, which the corporation insist upon bestowing upon every stranger of distinction, in order to add some little respectability to their sty of democracy, I took a private lodging with a respectable man of colour who kept the Hotel des Huitres in Water-street. According to the fashionable London mode, I intended to direct all those who asked my address, to the City Hotel, where there is generally such a concourse of people that the bar-keeper never knows the names of half the boarders. My first business after taking possession of my lodgings, was to present a bill of exchange, drawn on one of the most respectable merchants here, (if such a term can be applied to a Yankee peddler,) by one of our first London bankers.

I found him in his counting-room with a jug, as I presume of whiskey, at his side, and pretty well "corned," as the communicative traveller says, though it was hardly nine o'clock. He received me with a sort of bear-like republican civility, which I ascribed to the awe in which they stand of Englishmen, to whom they are one and all indebted more than they ever mean to pay. He read my letter, looked very deliberately at the bill of exchange, then folding them both up carefully, offered them to me. "Is it convenient for you," said I, "to cash the bill at once?" "No sir, not very convenient." "I suppose, then, I must be content with your acceptance at the usual sight." "My good friend, I don't mean to accept it, I assure you." "No, sir?" said I, bristling up, for I began to suspect some Yankee trick—"and pray may I take the liberty of asking the reason of this extraordinary conduct?" "Certainly. The banker who drew this bill, by my last advices is a bankrupt and a swindler. He has no effects in my hands, nor is he ever likely to have. I am sorry for your disappointment, but I cannot accept your bill of exchange." I snatched the letter out of his hand and hurried out of the room, and my disappointment was almost balanced by the pleasure I felt at this early confirmation of my impressions with regard to the character of these republican merchants, who I was satisfied, from reading the Quarterly Review, never paid a debt of any kind, there being no law in this country to oblige them. I had no doubt but the story of the drawer of my bill, (no less a man than Mr. Henry Fauntleroy, who keeps two mistresses, and three splendid establishments,) being a bankrupt and swindler, was a fabrication, invented to evade the payment. Such is the universal practice here, and thus is the reputation of half the merchants of Britain ruined in this country. The genuine republican merchant never stops payment and compounds with his creditors, (which they generally do twice or thrice a year,) without putting it all upon his correspondents in England, who are, in fact, always the greatest sufferers. This story they all make a point of believing, because they are all, or soon expect to be, in the same predicament. It is a proof of the generous credulity of honest John Bull that he still continues to trust, and be cheated by the turbulent spirit of democracy, as the editors of the Quarterly Review justly style it, in their usual strain of genteel irony.

Relating the story of my disappointment to my worthy landlord, I thought he looked rather shy, as if he expected it to be the prelude to a long score. But I at once satisfied his doubts by showing him a few guineas, and telling him I always paid my bill every Saturday night. He then resumed his confidence, and proceeded to let me into the secrets of this unprincipled and profligate city, which being the general rendezvous of people from all parts of this puissant and polished republic, (as the Quarterly calls it,) presents at one view a picture of the blessings of pure and undefiled democracy. That my readers may have the clearer idea of a genuine republican city, I shall be more particular in my description, especially as this is considered as the very pink of all the cities of the new world.

New-York, the capital of the state of New-Jersey, so called from being originally settled by Yorkshire horse jockies, is situated on the main land, between two rivers, about the size of the Thames, though not quite so large, that being unquestionably the greatest river in the world. That on the east they call the north, and that on the west, the east river, by a very pardonable blunder, as it would be taxing the spirit of democracy too severely to preserve the least acquaintance with such aristocratic trumpery as the points of the compass. The blessings of ignorance, constitute the basis of republicanism, as the Quarterly says, with its characteristic wit and humour.

Most of the houses are built of pine boards, and generally about half finished, the owners for the most part stopping payment before the work is completed. There is a great appearance of bustle, but very little business in fact, as the spirit of democracy impels these people to make a great noise about nothing. To see one of their peddling merchants staring about in Wall-street, one would suppose he was overwhelmed with the most momentous affairs, when, if the truth was known, his whole morning's business consists in purchasing a dozen birch brooms, or a pound of wafers. There is also a great appearance of building here, but this is partly owing to the necessity of new houses to replace the old ones, which generally tumble to pieces at the end of three or four years, and partly owing to the inveterate habit of emigration characteristic of the restless spirit of democracy, which prevents the people remaining long in one place. Hence they are perpetually on the move from one part of the city to another. Sometimes whole streets are deserted in this way, and then as new buildings become necessary, the cry of these republican braggarts, as the Quarterly calls them, is about the number of houses building, and the vast increase of the city. Sometimes they pull down a street and build it up again, merely to impose upon strangers an idea of its prosperity, and attract emigrants from England, although those who have been weak enough to come hither for the last six or eight years, are, with the exception of a few sent home by the British Consul, every soul of them on the parish.

The people of New-York may be divided into three classes, those that beg, those that borrow, and those that steal. Not unfrequently, however, all these professions are united in one person, as they are a very ingenious people, and almost every man is a sort of Jack of all trades. The beggars constitute about one third of the population, and are supported with great liberality by the other two classes, who remembering that charity covers a multitude of sins, make use of its broad mantle in this way, and upon the strength of their alms, claim the privilege of borrowing without ever intending to pay, and robbing Peter to give away to Paul. One of the most popular preachers here, is a most notorious gambler, but, at the same time, is considered little less than a saint, because he professes to give all his winnings to the poor. Another person, an alderman, generally breaks into a neighbour's house every night, but as he gives away all his plunder in alms, he is one of the most popular men in the city. Another, who is a judge of the court, generally manages to pick the pockets of both the parties in a suit, and the jury think themselves lucky to escape; yet he is adored for his liberality, and the beggars who all vote like the pigs, talk of running him for the next governor.

The borrowers consist of the most fashionable portion of the community, the people who give parties, ride in their coaches, and hold their heads considerably higher than the beggars. The most approved mode of practising this thriving business is this: A gentleman gives a grand entertainment to a select number of friends, each of whom he manages to intercept as they go out, and make them pay pretty handsomely for dinner in the shape of a loan. When one set gets tired, he invites another, and so on till his debts amount to sufficient to make it worth while, when he affects to stop payment, as he calls it, though he never began yet; takes the benefit of the laws for encouraging debt and extravagance, and on the score of his numerous charities, is generally recommended for some public office. This is the last resort of rogues, in this pure republican system, as the Quarterly affirms. My landlord, the gentleman of colour, who was in the habit of waiting at many of these great dinners, assured me he did not recollect but a single instance in which the guests escaped paying the piper in this way, when the entertainer let them off, in consequence of having picked their pockets at table. I asked him how it happened that the guests did not resent or complain of this treatment. "O," replied he, "it is diamond cut diamond—every one has his turn, and it amounts to an equal division of property in the end—a republican Agrarian law, as the Quarterly says." "What, do you read the Quarterly?" said I. "O yes; we all read Massa Quarterly— he love us people of colour so much." He further assured me the people of colour had it one time in contemplation to send out half a dozen of their prettiest ebony lasses to England, that the gentlemen of the Quarterly might have their choice of them for wives. But the ladies of colour, having been persuaded by some of the white belles of fashion, who envied their high destinies, that all these gentlemen lived in Grub-street, one of the most ungenteel places in all London, turned up their pretty pug noses, and demurred to the proposition.

I was delighted at this information, which not only proved the extensive circulation of this valuable Review, but likewise the gratitude of the people of colour for the exertions of its conductors in their behalf. It is enough to make the eye of philanthropy water to hear as I have done that such is the pride of these beggarly republicans, that they will not admit a gentleman or lady of colour to any intimacy of association, insomuch that it is considered a disgrace to enter into a matrimonial connexion with them! This is another beautiful illustration of the beggarly pride of these upstart republicans, as the Quarterly says.

The class of pick-pockets, shop-lifters, and thieves of all sorts, is probably the most numerous of the whole community. Nobody ventures to carry money in his pocket, and when the ladies go out shopping, they always hold their purses in their hands. Even this is no security, for it generally happens that they are snatched away before they have gone a hundred yards. One of the shop-keepers here assured me it seldom happened that a lady came into his shop without pocketing a piece of lace, a pair of gloves, or something of the kind, provided they could not get at the till. It is the universal practice to search them before they depart; and from long habit they submit to this as quietly as lambs. Plenty of company to keep them in countenance, and long habit renders them indifferent to discovery, as the shopman assured me. Two or three ladies came in meanwhile, and were suffered to go away without being searched by the shopman, who, as I found to my cost afterwards, was all this while busily employed in emptying my pockets. Yet, for all this, do these bragging republicans boast that it is unnecessary for the country people to lock their doors at night. My landlord assured me that this was the fact, but that it arose from the conviction that locking them would be of no service, every man being exceedingly expert in picking locks, both from education and habit.

"The consequence of all this," continued the worthy gentleman of colour, "is a general, I may say irremediable relaxation of manners, and a total want of prudence and principle in all classes. Drunkenness, impiety, insolence, extravagance, ignorance, brutality, gluttony, and every vice that can disgrace human nature, are the ordinary characteristics of these spawn of filthy democracy, as the Quarterly says; and if there be any thing in which these people are not utterly detestable, it is their fondness for oysters, which enables me to get a tolerable livelihood. This fondness is sharpened by the exquisite relish of breaking the laws at the same time that they gratify their appetites—the corporation of the city, for the purpose of monopolizing, having enacted that no oysters shall be brought to market, but what they eat themselves." Nothing, indeed, can equal the tyranny of the laws in this country; nor would it be possible to live under them, did not the turbulent spirit of democracy compound for itself, by breaking them all without ceremony.

It is another consequence of the relaxation of morals among these virtuous republicans, that the relaxation of the laws, is in proportion to the relaxation of morals. To such an extent has this been carried, that these people may be said to have no laws at all. All sorts of crimes are here committed with perfect impunity; and it is a common saying, that it requires more interest to be hanged, than to attain to the highest dignity of the republic. Drunkenness is here the usual and infallible apology for crime; and as the mass of the people are usually corned, as my friend the communicative traveller says, this excuse is seldom out of place. But what puzzled me, after seeing all this, was, that the jails, bridewells, and penitentiaries, which abound in almost every street, were full of people. My worthy landlord, however, explained this to my satisfaction, by assuring me that such was the abject poverty and consequent misery of a large portion of these patent republicans, (as the Quarterly says,) that they actually broke into these receptacles by force, being certain of getting board and lodging for nothing.

I was struck with the quantity of flies and moschetoes that infest the streets and houses all the year round, and fly into one's nose and ears at every convenient opportunity, where the latter sing most melodiously. To remedy this intolerable grievance, there is luckily a species of spider, which spins its web across the opening of the ear, in which these insects are caught. It is no uncommon thing to see half a dozen or more flies and moschetoes dangling in the ear of a fine lady. There is a law to prevent the destruction of these spiders, as there is against killing the turkey-buzzards, which abound here, and are the only street scavengers, if we except the citizen pig freeholders, as the Quarterly calls them.

CHAP. VI. NEW-YORK.

Total absence of religion—Indivisibility of a king and a divinity, and of democracy and impiety—Examples of the Puritans and Charles the Second—Necessity of wealth, honours, and exclusive privileges, to the very existence of religion—Quarterly— Barbarous love of finery—Mode of procuring it—Ignorance— Story of a blue stocking—Lord Bacon—Ill manners—Total neglect of education—American chancellor of the exchequer can't write his name—House of representatives obliged to have a clerk to read for them!—Attempt of an English lady to establish a boarding school, and its result—French dancing-masters, how treated, &c.

One of the first things that disgusts a pious man, as all Englishmen, particularly English travellers, are, is the horrible profanation of the Sabbath in this town. This contempt of religion and its observances arises partly out of the turbulent spirit of democracy, and partly from the want of a privileged church establishment, such as has made GreatBritain the bulwark of religion in all ages. There is in the first place such a natural and indivisible association between a king reigning over his peopel by divine right, and divinity itself, that it is next to impossible a true subject should not be a true believer. On the contrary, the pure spirit of democracy, which rejects the divine right of kings, will naturally resist every other divine right, and thus it has happened that impiety and rebellion have ever gone hand in hand. Every person versed in the history of England must be familiar with innumerable examples of this truth. Waving a reference to all others, it is sufficient to recollect the total relaxation of religion and morals which prevailed among the Puritans who rebelled against Charles the martyr, and the brilliant revival of piety and the church on the accession of his son. In fact, it is a maxim with all orthodox writers, that a pious people will always be obedient to their sovereign, not so much because he governs well, as because he governs by divine right.

A few obvious positions will in like manner demonstrate the absolute necessity of a liberally endowed, exclusively privileged church establishment, like that of England. Money is universally held to be the sinew of war; and inasmuch as money is essentially necessary to enable the sovereign to defend and maintain the rights and interests of the government, so is it equally necessary to enable the bishops and dignitaries of the church to defend the consciences of the people against the dissenters, and all other enemies of the church. It is a pure democratic absurdity to suppose that men will fight for their country from mere patriotic feelings, or that they will preach for nothing. Hence it is essentially necessary, that both should be equally well paid; for as the promise of the plunder of a city stimulates the soldier to acts of heroism, so in like manner will the promise of a good living of ten or fifteen thousand sterling a year, equally stimulate the dignitary of the established church to fight the good fight of faith the more manfully.

In fact, as the Quarterly says, "the want of an established church has made the bulk of the people either infidels or fanatics." There will never be any pure religion here until they have an archbishop of Armagh with 60,000 acres of glebe, and a bishop of Derry with 150,000. It is these and similar noble establishments in Ireland that have made the people of that country so orthodox, and so devoted to the king.

This mode of stimulating the zeal of pious dignitaries by wealth and honours, is accompanied with other special advantages. In proportion as the hierarchy is enriched by the spoils of the people, the latter becoming comparatively poor, are precluded by necessity from indulging in vicious extravagance and corrupt enjoyments. They will practise per force, abstinence, economy, self denial, and the other domestic virtues so essential to the welfare of the lower orders. Hence it is sufficiently obvious that in proportion as you curtail the superfluities of the commonalty by taxes, tithes, high rents, and poor rates, you guaranty to them the practice of almost all the cardinal virtues. Again: In proportion as the people become poor, they will necessarily pay less attention to the education of their children; and I fear no denial, except from radicals, democrats, and atheists, when I assert, that considering the mischievous books now in circulation on the subject of liberty and such impieties, the greatest blessing that could possibly happen to the lower orders would be the loss of the dangerous faculty of reading. In no age of the world were this class of people so devoted to the honour of the priests, and the glory of their kings, and consequently to the interests of religion and human rights, as when a large portion of them could not read, and were without any property they could call their own. I appeal to the whole history of mankind for proof of the maxim, that ignorance and poverty are the two pillars of a privileged church, and the divine right of kings.

It may be urged by radicals, democrats, and unbelievers, that the same rule which ordains the diminution of certain vices by the absence, equally ordains their proportionate increase by the multiplication of the means of their gratification. That consequently the rich prelates and nobility must necessarily become corrupt in proportion to the increase of their wealth. But even admitting this to be true, the people are gainers by the arrangement, since, by this means, their sins and transgressions are shifted upon their superiors, who answer the end of a sort of scape-goats, or peace offerings, under cover of which the poor entirely escape. It is therefore plain, that the more rich and wicked the privileged few become, the more will the lower orders be exempt from both. Let us hear no more then of the impious slang of democracy, as the Quarterly says, which would persuade poor deluded innocence and ignorance that equal rights and a general diffusion of knowledge, answer any other end than to make people thieves, murderers, gougers, bundlers, unbelievers, blasphemers, rowdies, and regulators, and, to sum up all in one word, republicans.

When it is recollected, therefore, that the essence of the turbulent spirit of democracy consists equally in the rejection of the divine right of the king, and the equally divine right of the bishops, and deans, and arch-deacons, to their thousands a year, it will readily be conceded that a pure republican cannot possibly have any religion. Accordingly, as I before observed, the first thing that strikes a stranger who is used to the exemplary modes of keeping the Sabbath in London and all other parts of England, is the total neglect of that day in all parts of the United States. In New-York, indeed, there are plenty of churches, but they were all built before the millennium of democracy, as the Quarterly says, and under the pious auspices of our established church. The first thing these blessed republicans did when they returned to the city, on the conclusion of the peace, was to break all the church windows, and so they have remained ever since. One of them has a ring of eight copper kettles, instead of bells, which being rung by the old deaf sexton, gives singular satisfaction to the commonalty—I beg pardon—the sovereign people—who assemble on Sundays to dance to the music in front of the church. As to going to church to hear divine service, nobody pretends to such anti-republican foolery. The shops are all kept open on Sundays, so that one can see no difference between that and any other day, except that the good folks drink twice as much whiskey, and put on their Sunday suits, in which they stagger about with infinite dignity, until finally they generally tumble into the gutter, spoil their finery, and sleep themselves sober. Such are the genuine habits of the turbulent spirit of democracy, as the Quarterly says. My worthy landlord assured me that the African church was the only one in which there was a chance of hearing a sermon, and that even there, the whole congregation was sometimes taken up and carried to the watch-house, under pretence that they disturbed the neighbourhood with their groanings, howlings, and other demonstrations of genuine piety. The true reason was, however, that these bundling, gouging democrats, as the Quarterly calls them, have such a bitter hostility to all sorts of religion, that they cannot bear even the poor negroes should sing psalms. However, as it is the first duty of a christian to hide the faults, and draw a veil over the transgressions of his fellow-men, I shall abstain from any further comments on the horrible depravity of republicanism in general, and Yankee republicanism in particular. I must not omit to mention, however, that in this, as well as every other town in the United States, there is a society for the propagation of unbelief, secretly supported by the government, most of the principal officers of which are members. Their exertions were inveterate and unceasing, and they displayed the same zeal in making an atheist of a devout christian that we do in the conversion of a Jew. Of late these societies have remitted their labours in consequence of there being no more christians to work upon.

The love of dress, glitter, and finery, is one of the characteristics of a rude and republican people; of course we see it displayed here in all its barbarous extravagance. Every thing they can beg, borrow, hire, or steal, is put on their backs, and a fine lady somewhat resembles a vessel dressed in the colours of all nations. It is impossible to tell what flag she sails under. This finery is for the most part hired by the day of the milliners and pawn-brokers, and there are dresses which can be had at from two shillings to a dollar a day. The first young ladies of the city, who never know their own minds, but alway "guess" at it, as the Quarterly says, principally figure in these hired dresses; and it is by no means uncommon for one of them to be hauled out of the city assembly or a fashionable party by a pawn-broker, in consequence of having kept the dress longer than the time specified. One might suppose such an accident would disturb the harmony of the company, but the other young ladies continue to dance away without takking any notice of the unfortunate Cinderella, thus stript