‘One day I was strolling in Hyde Park, i_A Book of the United States Exhibiting its geography, divisions, constitution, and government ... and presenting a view of the republic generally, and of the individual states; together with a condensed history of the land, from its first discovery to the present time. The biography of about two hundred of the leading men: a description of the principal cities and towns; with statistical tables

Peruvian: it was one of the fine days of London, but the sun

was so obscured by the fog, that it had taken the form of a

great globe of fire. “What do you think of the sun to-day?”

said I to my companion. “I thought,” replied the adorer

of the true sun, “that the end of the world was come! Was

it not a singular caprice of fortune, that where there is

the least light, the great Newton should have been born to

analyze it?” It appears to me like the other singularity,

that Alfieri, who analyzed liberty so well, should have been

born in Italy, where they have less of it, perhaps, than

any where else. After all, what of it? The English, by force

of industry, have contrived to manufacture for themselves

even a sun. Is it not indeed a sun――that gas, which, running

under ground through all the island, illuminates the whole

in a _fiat lux_? It is a sun, without twilight, and without

sitting; that rises and disappears like a flash of lightning,

and that too just when we want it. The gas illumination of

London is so beautiful, that M. Sismondi had good reason

to say, that, in London, in order to see, you must wait

till night. The place of St. Antonio, at Cadiz, on a

stormy summer’s evening――the noisy Strado Toledo of Naples,

silvered by the moon――the Parisian Tivoli, blazing with

fire-works;――none of them can sustain a comparison with

the Regent-street of London, lighted by gas. Nor is this

artificial sun an exclusive advantage of the capital; it

shines every where with the impartiality of the great planet,

illuminating alike the palace and the hovel. Whoever travels

in England by night, in the country around Leeds, Nottingham,

Derby or Manchester, imagines he sees, on every side, the

enchanting palaces of the fairies, shining in the light of

a thousand torches; but they are, in reality, no other than

very large and very lofty manufactories of cotton, woollen,

or linen.

‘But the English have another remedy for the scarcity of sun.

They follow the example of poets and philosophers, who, when

they are deficient in riches, take to praising poverty;――not

being able to praise the sun, they sing the praises of the

fireside, and the delights of winter. Ossian, (or rather

Macpherson, the author of Ossian,) instead of the sun,

apostrophises the moon. He takes pleasure in describing, as

if they were delightful, the whistling of the winds, and the

roaring of the torrents. He compares the locks of a youthful

beauty to mist gilded by the sun. Instead of depicting

a valley enamelled with flowers, he spurns so soft and

effeminate an image, to paint the aspect of a frozen lake,

and the shaking thistle on its banks. Cowper, in his poem

of The Task, seems completely to enjoy himself in describing

a winter’s evening, when the rain rattles down, the wind

whistles, and the wagoner growls and grumbles on his way;

whilst in doors, the fire burns, the newspaper arrives, the

exhilarating tea glows on the table, and the family are all

collected round the hearth.

‘Some poet, whose name I forget, (I think it is Byron,) even

gives to darkness the epithet “lovely.” Thomson, the bard of

the seasons, was a better poet than usual, when he sung of

winter. He calls the horrors of winter “congenial horrors;”

and after describing the mountains of snow, that, with the

roar of thunder, dart from precipice to precipice, to the

bottom of the Grison valleys, destroying and burying in

the depth of night, shepherds and their flocks, huts and

villages, single travellers and whole troops of marching

soldiers, he imagines himself, with epicurean voluptuousness,

in a solitary and well sheltered country-house, before a

blazing fire, and lighted by splendid chandeliers, rending

at his ease the finest works of the ancients.

‘Thus all the poets have conspired to make their countrymen

in love with their cloudy heavens, and induce them to

believe themselves fortunate that they are born in a

delightful climate. And what matter is it that it is not

true? Are not the tricks and illusions of the imagination

as substantial as actual reality? Montesquieu said, “If the

English are not free, at least they believe they are, which

is much the same.” So we may say, if the English have not a

fine climate, they believe they have, and that is as good.

I was once praising to a young English lady, the pure, lofty,

mother-of-pearl heavens of Madrid, of Naples, of Athens, of

Smyrna. She replied, “I should be tired to death by such a

perpetual sunshine; the variety and phantasmagoria of our

cloud must surely be much more beautiful.”’――_Observations

of an Italian Exile._

38 – There were several severe thunder-storms while we were

in the neighborhood of New-York, very different in their

appearance from those which occur in Britain, but not

attended with more accidents. One of them, in the middle

of June, was, however, very tremendous; it occurred in the

night, and the flashes of vivid lightning followed each

other with so great rapidity, that the sky was altogether

illuminated for a long period, and until a violent storm

of wind, accompanied with a deluge of rain, came on. The

roaring of the thunder never ceased during the continuance

of the storm. Several casualties occurred in New York; some

trees were torn up by the roots, the shipping was damaged,

one vessel upset, and the crew drowned. There is more

appearance of devastation occasioned by thunder-storms in

the forests and woods of this country than any where else.

Large portions of the forest are sometimes seen almost torn

to pieces.

Subsequently to this period, and when I was travelling in

the southern states, I was again and again witness to very

terrifying and magnificent thunder-storms, where I have seen

the whole atmosphere illuminated by the never ceasing balls

of fire bursting from cloud to cloud, and the appearance

every moment of forked flashes of lightning. Few nights,

during the summer and beginning of autumn, in this country,

occur, in which lightning is not visible in some part of the

horizon.――_Stuart’s America._

39 – The following account of the climate in the neighborhood of

Charleston, South Carolina, is extracted from a letter of

the intelligent correspondent of the Portland Advertiser,

dated March 29, 1833.

‘Vegetation is quite advanced, and rapidly advancing. The

air this day was not so warm as it has been; but we had

this morning copious showers with loud thunder and vivid

lightning. The gardens in the vicinity of Charleston are

now beautiful beyond description. All vegetation is in that

lively hue, which charms the eye and delights the feelings.

The trees that border the wayside are rapidly putting on

their green covering. The open fields are verdant with the

growing grass. Corn is up and advanced. The vegetables in

the gardens are as forward as they will be in ours the first

of July. The market is well stocked with the luxuries of an

early summer. A southern spring is spring indeed. There are

music and life in every thing. If they could have here our

captivating and musing scenery, our variety of hill and dale,

it would be at this season another paradise on earth.

‘Charleston is considered healthy by the inhabitants.

They boast of their exemption from diseases, and say their

bill of mortality is not so fatal as that of New York and

Philadelphia. The city itself may be thus healthy when the

yellow fever does not prevail, but it is as much as one’s

life is worth to venture into the lowlands in the vicinity,

in the country round. No resident of Charleston, even those

born Carolinians, or the best acclimated, dare run the risk.

For a citizen to sleep in the country in the summer months,

is considered almost certain death, for the country fever,

as it is termed, immediately seizes him. The country,

this side of the middle region――a rolling country of South

Carolina for about one hundred miles from the seacoast――is

swampy, or a pine barren. There is in the swamps a

_mal-aria_, very fatal to health, the effects of which no

white man is willing to run the risk of encountering. Hence

the planters in the lowlands, particularly such as live on

the rice plantations, remove in the sickly months to the

seacoast, or go back into the country, to Buncumbe county

in North Carolina, near the Saluda Gap, or to the Virginia

Springs, or to the seacoast, or to the northern states. The

slaves on the rice plantations are said to be healthy and

happy, and to suffer no affliction from the burning sun of

August, or the noxious effluvia from the rice grounds.

‘A white overseer is usually left in care of the plantation

and the negroes, who, though born in the country, often,

and commonly, has a fever every year. I am told that many

of them die at middle age, and that few seldom obtain an

old age. If such be the fact, it would seem that negroes

are necessary to cultivate the rice grounds, though it is

with difficulty that I can come to the conclusion, that the

white man, well acclimated, is not as well fitted by nature

to cultivate the land he lives on as the negro. But the

universal opinion is, that it is exceedingly hazardous for a

planter to continue with his family on his estate, and hence,

no matter what the expense, the estates are deserted from

June to the first frost in autumn, and the planter dare not

visit his property, nor sleep in his house in that time,

though he may be on the seacoast but a few miles off, or in

a settlement on a pine barren, which is considered healthy.

The swampy rice grounds no doubt are sickly. The effluvia

from so much putrid water must be noxious. The pallor and

ghastliness of many of the overseers bear testimony to the

truth of the general assertion. And it is probable, yea,

certain, that the habits, the manners, the long practice of

the negroes, have better fitted them to undergo the danger

than the white man is or can be, with his training. Hence,

one of the great arguments in favor of slavery here, is, “we

cannot do without the negroes.”’

40 – The first notice of gold from North Carolina, on the record

of the United States’ Mint, occurs in the year 1814, when

it was received to the amount of eleven thousand dollars.

In 1825 the amount received was seventeen thousand dollars;

in 1826, twenty thousand, in 1828, nearly forty-six thousand,

and in 1829, one hundred and twenty-eight thousand dollars.

In the year 1830, gold to the value of four hundred and

sixty-six thousand dollars was coined at the mint, received

from the gold region of the southern states. Of this amount,

two hundred and twelve thousand dollars were received from

Georgia, a state which had not furnished even a specimen

in any previous year. In the year 1831, the southern gold

region furnished the mint with gold to the value of more

than half a million; of this, two hundred and ninety-four

thousand dollars were received from North Carolina, and one

hundred and seventy-six thousand from Georgia. But a part of

the gold obtained at these mines is received at the United

States’ Mint; by far the larger part is sent to Europe,

particularly to Paris. It is stated that the whole number of

men employed in the mines of the southern states, is twenty

thousand.

41 – The coal is conveyed to Mauch Chunk village, in wagons

running upon the railway. Fourteen of them, containing

each one ton and a half of coal, are connected by iron

bars, admitting of a slight degree of motion between two

contiguous wagons; a single man rides on one of the wagons,

and, by a very simple contrivance, regulates their movement:

a perpendicular lever causes a piece of wood to press

against the circumference of each wheel on the same side

of the car, acting both ways from the central point between

them, so that, by increasing the pressure, the friction

retards or stops the motion, and as all the levers are

connected by a rope, they are made to act in concert. The

traveller is much interested in seeing the successive groups

of wagons moving rapidly in procession and without apparent

cause; they are heard, at a considerable distance, as they

come thundering along with their dark burdens, and give an

impression of irresistible energy: at a suitable distance

follows another train, and thus three hundred tons a day,

and some days three hundred and forty tons, are regularly

discharged into the boats as already described. At first,

they descended at the rate of fifteen or twenty miles an

hour, but they were obliged to reduce the speed, as it

injured the machines, and, by agitating and wearing the

coal, involved the driver in a cloud of black dust. The

empty wagons are drawn back by mules; fourteen wagons to

eight mules; twenty-eight mules draw up forty-two coal and

seven mule wagons, and the arrangement is so made, that the

ascending parties shall arrive in due season at the proper

places for turning out. The same is true of the pleasure

cars, which are allowed to use the rail-way; only they must

not interfere with its proper business, and should they do

it, it would be at their peril, as they might be crushed by

the momentum of the descending wagons. When they happen to

be caught out of their proper place, the drivers make all

possible haste to remove them out of the rail-way track; but

they carefully avoid these meetings, and they rarely happen,

unless the cars go out of their proper time.

The mules ride down the rail-way; they are furnished with

provender placed in proper mangers, four of them being

inclosed in one pen mounted on wheels; and seven of these

cars are connected into one group, so that twenty-eight

mules constitute the party, which, with their heads all

directed down the mountain, and apparently surveying its

fine landscapes, are seen moving rapidly down the inclined

plane with a ludicrous gravity, which, when observed for the

first time, proves too much for the severest muscles.

They readily perform their duty of drawing up the empty cars,

but having once experienced the comfort of riding down, they

appear to regard it as a right, and neither mild nor severe

measures, not even the sharpest whipping, can ever induce

them to descend in any other way.

The return of the traveller, in the pleasure cars, is

so rapid that it is not easy entirely to suppress the

apprehension of danger; we perform the eight miles from

the summit in thirty-three minutes; should an axle-tree

break――an accident which sometimes happens with the coal

wagons――it would be impossible that the passengers should

escape unhurt, especially in the turnings of the road, and

in places where trees, rocks and precipices allow no safe

place of landing. All danger would however be avoided by

checking the motion, so that it should not exceed eight or

ten miles an hour, and this is easily done in the same way

as that practised in the coal wagons. Happily, no accident

has yet occurred. It would be prudent, at least, to require

the manager to check the motion of the car at the steepest

places; but these are the very situations where he chooses

to make a display of cracking his whip and cheering his

wheels, instead of his horses, and the increased impulse,

given by gravity, as he relaxes the pressure of the

lever, when the car springs forward like spirited horses

at the word of their master makes the illusion almost

complete.――_Silliman’s Journal._

42 – _Cougar Hunt._ The hunters made their appearance, one fine

morning, at the door of the cabin, just as the sun was

emerging from beneath the horizon. They were five in number,

and fully equipped for the chase, being mounted on horses,

which in some parts of Europe might appear sorry nags, but

which in strength, speed and bottom, are better fitted for

pursuing a cougar, or a bear, through woods and morasses

than any in that country. A pack of large ugly curs were

already engaged in making acquaintance with those of the

squatter. He and myself mounted his two best horses, whilst

his sons were bestriding others of inferior quality.

Few words were uttered by the party until we had reached

the edge of the swamp, where it was agreed that all should

disperse and seek for the fresh track of the painter, it

being previously settled that the discoverer should blow

his horn, and remain on the spot until the rest should join

him. In less than an hour, the sound of the horn was clearly

heard, and, sticking close to the squatter, off we went

through the thick woods, guided only by the now and then

repeated call of the distant huntsman. We soon reached the

spot, and in a short time the rest of the party came up. The

best dog was sent forward to track the cougar, and in a few

moments the whole pack were observed diligently trailing,

and bearing in their course for the interior of the swamp.

The rifles were immediately put in trim, and the party

followed the dogs, at separate distances, but in sight of

each other, determined to shoot at no other game than the

panther.

The dogs soon began to mouth, and suddenly quickened

their pace. My companion concluded that the beast was on

the ground, and putting our horses to a gentle gallop, we

followed the curs, guided by their voices. The noise of the

dogs increased, when all of a sudden their mode of barking

became altered, and the squatter, urging me to push on, told

me that the beast was _treed_, by which he meant that it

had got upon some low branch of a large tree to rest for

a few moments, and that should we not succeed in shooting

him when thus situated, we might expect a long chase of it.

As we approached the spot, we all by degrees united into a

body, but on seeing the dogs at the foot of a large tree,

separated again and galloped off to surround it.

Each hunter now moved with caution, holding his gun ready,

and allowing the bridle to dangle on the neck of his horse,

as it advanced slowly towards the dogs. A shot from one of

the party was heard, on which the cougar was seen to leap to

the ground, and bound off with such velocity as to show that

he was very unwilling to stand our fire longer. The dogs set

off in pursuit with great eagerness and a deafening cry. The

hunter who had fired came up and said that his ball had hit

the monster, and had probably broken one of his fore legs

near the shoulder, the only place at which he could aim. A

slight trail of blood was discovered on the ground, but the

curs proceeded at such a rate that we merely noticed this,

and put spurs to our horses, which galloped on towards the

centre of the swamp. One bayou was crossed, then another

still larger and more muddy; but the dogs were brushing

forward, and as the horses began to pant at a furious rate,

we judged it expedient to leave them and advance on foot.

These determined hunters knew that the cougar being wounded,

would shortly ascend another tree, where in all probability

he would remain for a considerable time, and that it would

be easy to follow the track of the dogs. We dismounted, took

off the saddles and bridles, set the bells attached to the

horses’ necks at liberty to jingle, hoppled the animals, and

left them to shift for themselves.

Now, reader, follow the group marching through the swamp,

crossing muddy pools, and making the best of their way

over fallen trees and amongst the tangled rushes that

now and then covered acres of ground. If you are a hunter

yourself, all this will appear nothing to you; but if crowded

assemblies of ‘beauty and fashion,’ or the quiet enjoyment

of your ‘pleasure-grounds,’ alone delight you, I must mend

my pen before I attempt to give you an idea of the pleasure

felt on such an expedition.

After marching for a couple of hours, we again heard the

dogs. Each of us again pressed forward, elated at the

thought of terminating the career of the cougar. Some of the

dogs were heard whining, although the greater number barked

vehemently. We felt assured that the cougar was treed, and

that he would rest for some time to recover from his fatigue.

As we came up to the dogs, we discovered the ferocious

animal lying across a large branch, close to the trunk of a

cotton-wood tree. His brood breast lay towards us; his eyes

were at one time bent on us and again on the dogs beneath

and around him; one of his fore legs hung loosely by his

side, and he lay crouched, with his ears lowered close to

his head, as if he thought he might remain undiscovered.

Three balls were fired at him, at a given signal, on which

he sprang a few feet from the branch, and tumbled headlong

to the ground. Attacked on all sides by the enraged curs,

the infuriated cougar fought with desperate valor; but the

squatter advancing in front of the party, and almost in the

midst of the dogs, shot him immediately behind and beneath

the left shoulder. The cougar writhed for a moment in agony,

and in another lay dead.――_Audubon._

43 – Godman.

44 – The prairie wolves are much smaller than those which inhabit

the woods. They generally travel together in numbers, and

a solitary one is seldom met with. Two or three of us have

often pursued from fifty to one hundred, driving them before

us as quickly as our horses could charge.

Their skins are of no value, and we do not therefore waste

much powder and ball in shooting them. The Indians, who

are obliged to pay dear for their ammunition, are equally

careful not to throw it away on objects that bring no

remunerating value. The natural consequence is, that the

wolves are allowed to multiply; and some parts of the

country are completely overrun by them. The Indians catch

numbers of them in traps, which they set in the vicinity

of those places where their tame horses are sent to graze.

The traps are merely excavations covered over with slight

switches and hay, and bated with meat, &c., into which

the wolves fall, and being unable to extricate themselves,

they perish by famine, or the knife of the Indian. These

destructive animals annually destroy numbers of horses;

particularly during the winter season, when the latter get

entangled in the snow; in which situation they become an

easy prey to their lightfooted pursuers, ten or fifteen of

which will often fasten on one animal, and with their long

fangs in a few minutes separate the head from the body. If,

however, the horses are not prevented from using their legs,

they sometimes punish the enemy severely; as an instance

of this, I saw one morning the bodies of two of our horses

which had been killed the night before, and around were

lying eight dead and maimed wolves; some with their brains

scattered about, and others with their limbs and ribs broken

by the hoofs of the furious animals in their vain attempts

to escape from their sanguinary assailants.

While I was at Spokan, I went occasionally to the horse

prairie, which is nearly surrounded by partially wooded

hills, for the purpose of watching the manœuvres of the

wolves in their combined attacks. The first announcement of

their approach was a few shrill currish barks at intervals,

like the outpost firing of skirmishing parties. These were

answered by similar barking from an opposite direction,

until the sounds gradually approximated, and, at length,

ceased on the junction of the different parties. We prepared

our guns, and concealed ourselves behind a thick cover.

In the mean time, the horses, sensible of the approaching

danger, began to paw the ground, snort, toss up their heads,

look wildly about them, and exhibit all the symptoms of fear.

One or two stallions took the lead, and appeared to wait

with a degree of comparative composure for the appearance of

the enemy.

The allies, at length, entered the field in a semicircular

form, with their flanks extended for the evident purpose

of surrounding their prey. They were between two and three

hundred strong. The horses, on observing their movement,

knew from experience its object, and dreading to encounter

so numerous a force, instantly turned round, and galloped

off in a contrary direction. Their flight was the signal

for the wolves to advance; and immediately uttering a

simultaneous yell, they charged after the fugitives, still

preserving their crescent form. Two or three of the horses,

which were not in the best condition, were quickly overtaken

by the advance guard of the enemy. The former, finding

themselves unable to keep up with the band, commenced

kicking at their pursuers, several of which received some

severe blows; but these being reinforced by others, they

would have shortly despatched the horses, had we not,

just in time, emerged from our place of concealment, and

discharged a volley at the enemy’s centre, by which a few

were brought down. The whole battalion instantly wheeled

about, and fled towards the hills in the utmost disorder;

while the horses, on hearing the fire, changed their course,

and galloped up to us. Our appearance saved several of them

from the fangs of their foes; and by their neighing they

seemed to express their joy and gratitude at our timely

interference.

Although the wolves of North America are the most daring

of all the beasts of prey on that continent, they are by

no means so courageous or ferocious as those of Europe,

particularly in Spain or the south of France, in which

countries they commit dreadful ravages both on man and beast,

whereas an American wolf, except forced by desperation, will

seldom or never attack a human being; a remarkable instance

of which is mentioned in the detail of my wanderings, in

the eighth chapter. The lynxes are by no means so numerous

as the wolves, but they are equally destructive, and

individually more daring. They generally travel alone, or

in couples, and seldom fly, as the wolves do, on the first

approach of man. The largest American lynx does not exceed

in size an English mastiff.――_Ross Cox._

45 – A very young whelp of this fox was, some time ago, brought

to the Philadelphia Museum in company with its foster mother,

a common cat, which had adopted and appeared to be very fond

of it. She continued to nurse the little fox for several

weeks, expressing much affectionate solicitude when he

wandered from her, notwithstanding the frequent ungrateful

bites inflicted by her vicious foundling. How long this

singular relation might have continued, or to what result it

would have led, is unknown. The fox strayed too far from his

cautions nurse, fell from the platform of a tall staircase

to the ground, and was killed; the poor cat evinced as much

sorrow for her loss as if it had been really her own

offspring.

46 – For a very full, minute, and interesting account of the

beaver, we refer our readers to the second volume of

Godman’s Natural History.

47 – Flying squirrels are said to be found in the north of

Europe, but they are very scarce.

48 – Nuttall.

49 – The figure of this noble bird is well known throughout

the civilized world, emblazoned as it is on our national

standard, which waves in the breeze of every clime, bearing

to distant lands the remembrance of a great people living in

a state of peaceful freedom. May that peaceful freedom last

forever!

The great strength, daring, and cool courage of the

white-headed eagle, joined to his unequalled power of

flight, render him highly conspicuous among his brethren.

To these qualities did he add a generous disposition towards

others, he might be looked up to as a model of nobility. The

ferocious, overbearing, and tyrannical temper which is ever

and anon displaying itself in his actions, is, nevertheless,

best adapted to his state, and was wisely given him by the

Creator to enable him to perform the office assigned to him.

To give you some idea of the nature of this bird, permit

me to place you on the Mississippi, on which you may float

gently along, while approaching winter brings millions of

water-fowl on whistling wings, from the countries of the

north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for a

season. The eagle is seen perched, in an erect attitude,

on the highest summit of the tallest tree by the margin of

the broad stream, his glistening but stern eye looks over

the vast expanse. He listens attentively to every sound that

comes to his quick ear from afar, glancing now and then on

the earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the fawn may

pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite side, and

should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to

continue patient. At this well-known call, the male partly

opens his broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards,

and answers to her voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a

maniac. The next moment, he resumes his erect attitude, and

again all around is silent.

Ducks of many species, the teal, the wigeon, the mallard and

others, are seen passing with great rapidity, and following

the course of the current; but the eagle heeds them not:

they are at that time beneath his attention. The next moment,

however, the wild trumpet-like sound of a yet distant but

approaching swan is heard. A shriek from the female eagle

comes across the stream,――for she is as fully on the alert

as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his

body, and with a few touches of his bill, aided by the

action of his cuticular muscles, arranges his plumage in

an instant. The snow-white bird is now in sight: her long

neck is stretched forward, her eye is on the watch, vigilant

as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty

to support the weight of her body, although they flap

incessantly. So irksome do her exertions seem, that her very

legs are spread beneath her tail, to aid her in her flight.

She approaches, however. The eagle has marked her for his

prey. As the swan is passing the dreaded pair, the male bird,

in full preparation for the chase, starts from his perch

with an awful scream, that to the swan’s ear brings more

terror than the report of the large duck-gun.

Now is the moment to witness the display of the eagle’s

powers. He glides through the air like a falling star,

and, like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timorous

quarry, which now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various

manœuvres, to elude the grasp of his cruel talons. It mounts,

doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were

it not prevented by the eagle, which, long possessed of the

knowledge that by such a stratagem the swan might escape him,

forces it to remain in the air by attempting to strike it

with his talons from beneath. The hope of escape is soon

given up by the swan. It has already become much weakened,

and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and

swiftness of its antagonist. Its last gasp is about to

escape, when the ferocious eagle strikes with his talons the

under side of its wing, and with unresisted power forces the

bird to fall in a slanting direction upon the nearest shore.

It is then, reader, that you may see the cruel spirit of

this dreaded enemy of the feathered race, whilst, exulting

over his prey, he for the first time breathes at ease.

He presses down his powerful feet, and drives his sharp

claws deeper than ever into the heart of the dying swan. He

shrieks with delight, as he feels the last convulsions of

his prey, which has now sunk under his unceasing efforts to

render death as painfully felt as it can possibly be. The

female has watched every movement of her mate; and if she

did not assist him in capturing the swan, it was not from

want of will, but merely that she felt full assurance that

the power and courage of her lord were quite sufficient for

the deed. She now sails to the spot where he eagerly awaits

her, and when she has arrived, they together turn the breast

of the luckless swan upwards, and gorge themselves with

gore.――_Audubon._

50 – Bonaparte

51 – When the female is disposed to lay, she appears restless and

dejected, and separates from the unregarding flock. Stealing

through the woods and thickets, she pries into the bushes

and brambles for the nest that suits her, into which she

darts, in the absence of its owner, and in a few minutes

is seen to rise on the wing, cheerful and relieved from the

anxiety that oppressed her, and proceeds back to the flock

she had so reluctantly forsaken. If the egg be deposited in

the nest alone, it is uniformly forsaken; but if the nursing

parent have any of her own, she immediately begins to sit.

The red-eyed flycatcher, in whose beautiful basket-like

nests I have observed these eggs, proves a very affectionate

and assiduous nurse to the uncouth foundling. In one of

these I found an egg of each bird, and the hen already

sitting. I took her own egg and left the strange one; she

soon returned, and, as if sensible of what had happened,

looked with steadfast attention, and shifted the egg about,

then sate upon it, but soon moved off, again renewed her

observation, and it was a considerable time before she

seemed willing to take her seat; but at length I left her

on the nest. Two or three days after, I found that she had

relinquished her attention to the strange egg, and forsaken

the premises. Another of these birds, however, forsook the

nest, on taking out the cow-bird’s egg, although she had

still two of her own left. The only example, perhaps, to

the contrary of deserting the nest when solely occupied by

the stray egg, is in the blue-bird, who, attached strongly

to the breeding places, in which it often continues for

several years, has been known to lay, though with apparent

reluctance, after the deposition of the cow-bird’s egg. My

friend, Mr. C. Pickering, found two nests of the blue-eyed

yellow warbler, in which had been deposited an egg of the

cow-bird previously to any of their own; and unable to eject

it, they had buried it in the bottom of the nest, and built

over it an additional story! I also saw, in the summer of

1830, a similar circumstance with the same bird, in which

the cow-bird’s egg, though incarcerated, was still visible

on the upper edge, but could never have been hatched. At

times, I think it probable, that they lay in the nests

of larger birds, who throw out the egg, or that they drop

their eggs on the ground without obtaining a deposit, as

I have found an egg of this kind thus exposed and broken.

I have also remarked sometimes two of these eggs in the

same nest; but in this case one of them commonly proves

abortive.――_Nuttall._

52 – Wilson.

53 – _Turkey Shooting._――Good dogs scent the turkeys, when in

large flocks, at extraordinary distances,――I think I may

venture to say half a mile. Should the dog be well trained

to this sport, he sets off at full speed, and in silence,

until he sees the birds, when he instantly barks, and

pushing as much as possible into the centre of the flock,

forces the whole to take wing in different directions. This

is of great advantage to the hunter, for should the turkeys

all go one way, they would soon leave their perches and

run again. But when they separate in this manner, and the

weather happens to be calm and lowering, a person accustomed

to this kind of sport finds the birds with ease, and shoots

them at pleasure.

When turkeys alight on a tree, it is sometimes very

difficult to see them, which is owing to their standing

perfectly motionless. Should you discover one, when it

is down on its legs upon the branch, you may approach it

with less care. But if it is standing erect, the greatest

precaution is necessary, for should it discover you, it

instantly flies off, frequently to such a distance that it

would be vain to follow.

When a turkey is merely winged by a shot, it falls quickly

to the ground in a slanting direction. Then, instead of

losing time by tumbling and rolling over, as other birds

often do when wounded, it runs off at such a rate, that

unless the hunter be provided with a swift dog, he may

bid farewell to it. I recollect coming on one shot in this

manner, more than a mile from the tree where it had been

perched, my dog having traced it to this distance, through

one of those thick cane-brakes that cover many portions of

our rich alluvial lands near the banks of our western rivers.

Turkeys are easily killed if shot in the head, the neck, or

the upper part of the breast; but if hit in the hind parts

only they often fly so far as to be lost to the hunter.

During winter, many of our _real_ hunters shoot them by

moonlight, on the roosts, where these birds will frequently

stand a repetition of the reports of a rifle, although they

would fly from the attack of an owl or even perhaps from his

presence. Thus sometimes nearly a whole flock is secured by

men capable of using these guns in such circumstances. They

are often destroyed in great numbers when most worthless,

that is, early in the fall or autumn, when many are killed

in their attempt to cross the rivers, or immediately after

they reach the shore.

Whilst speaking of the shooting of turkeys, I feel no

hesitation in relating the following occurrence, which

happened to myself. While in search of game, one afternoon

late in autumn, when the males go together, and the females

are by themselves also, I heard the clucking of one of the

latter, and immediately finding her perched on a fence, made

towards her. Advancing slowly and cautiously, I heard the

yelping notes of some gobblers, when I stopped and listened

in order to ascertain the direction in which they came.

I then ran to meet the birds, hid myself by the side of a

large fallen tree, cocked my gun, and waited with impatience

for a good opportunity. The gobblers continued yelping in

answer to the female, which all this while remained on the

fence. I looked over the log and saw about thirty fine cocks

advancing rather cautiously towards the very spot where I

lay concealed. They came so near that the light in their

eyes could easily be perceived, when I fired one barrel,

and killed three. The rest, instead of flying off, fell a

strutting around their dead companions, and had I not looked

on shooting again as murder without necessity, I might have

secured at least another. So I showed myself, and marching

to the place where the dead birds were, drove away the

survivors. I may also mention, that a friend of mine shot a

fine hen, from his horse, with a pistol, as the poor thing

was probably returning to her nest to lay.

Should you, good-natured reader, be a sportsman, and now and

then have been fortunate in the exercise of your craft, the

following incident, which I shall relate to you as I had it

from the mouth of an honest farmer, may prove interesting.

Turkeys were very abundant in his neighborhood, and,

resorting to his corn-fields, at the period when the maize

had just shot up from the ground, destroyed great quantities

of it. This induced him to swear vengeance against the

species. He cut a long trench in a favorable situation, put

a great quantity of corn in it, and having heavily loaded

a famous duck-gun of his, placed it so as that he could

pull the trigger by means of a string, when quite concealed

from the birds. The turkeys soon discovered the corn in

the trench, and quickly disposed of it, at the same time

continuing their ravages in the fields. He filled the trench

again, and one day seeing it quite black with the turkeys,

whistled loudly, on which all the birds raised their heads,

when he pulled the trigger by the long string fastened to

it. The explosion followed of course, and the turkeys were

seen scampering off in all directions, in utter discomfiture

and dismay. On running to the trench, he found nine of them

extended in it. The rest did not consider it expedient to

visit his corn again for that season.

During spring, turkeys are _called_, as it is termed, by

drawing the air in a particular way through one of the

second joint bones of a wing of that bird, which produces a

sound resembling the voice of the female, on hearing which

the male comes up, and is shot. In managing this, however,

no fault must be committed, for turkeys are quick in

distinguishing counterfeit sounds, and when _half civilized_

are very wary and cunning. I have known many to answer to

this kind of call, without moving a step, and thus entirely

defeat the scheme of the hunter, who dared not move from

his hiding-place, lest a single glance of the gobbler’s eye

should frustrate all further attempts to decoy them. Many

are shot when at roost, in this season, by answering with

a rolling gobble to a sound in imitation of the cry of the

barred owl.

While at Henderson, on the Ohio, I had, among many other

wild birds, a fine male turkey, which had been reared from

its earliest youth under my care, it having been caught by

me when probably not more than two or three days old. It

became so tame that it would follow any person who called

it, and was the favorite of the little village. Yet it would

never roost with the tame turkeys, but regularly betook

itself at night to the roof of the house, where it remained

until dawn. When two years old, it began to fly to the woods,

where it remained for a considerable part of the day, to

return to the enclosure as night approached. It continued

this practice until the following spring, when I saw it

several times fly from its roosting place to the top of

a high cotton tree, on the bank of the Ohio, from which,

after resting a little, it would sail to the opposite shore,

the river being there nearly half a mile wide, and return

towards night.

One morning I saw it fly off, at a very early hour, to the

woods, in another direction, and took no particular notice

of the circumstance. Several days elapsed, but the bird did

not return. I was going towards some lakes near Green River

to shoot, when having walked about five miles, I saw a fine

large gobbler cross the path before me, moving leisurely

along. Turkeys being then in prime condition for the table,

I ordered my dog to chase it, and put it up. The animal went

off with great rapidity, and as it approached the turkey,

I saw, with great surprise, that the latter paid little

attention. Juno was on the point of seizing it, when she

suddenly stopped, and turned her head towards me. I hastened

to them, but you may easily conceive my surprise when I saw

my own favorite bird, and discovered that it had recognised

the dog, and would not fly from it: although the sight of

a strange dog would have caused it to run off at once. A

friend of mine happening to be in search of a wounded deer,

took the bird on his saddle before him, and carried it

home for me. The following spring it was accidentally shot,

having been taken for a wild bird, and brought to me on

being recognised by the red ribbon which it had around

its neck. Pray, reader, by what word will you designate

the recognition made by my favorite turkey of a dog

which had been long associated with it in the yard and

grounds? Was it the result of instinct, or of reason,――an

unconsciously revived impression, or the act of an

intelligent mind?――_Audubon._

54 – _Duck Shooting on the Chesapeak._――To a stranger, visiting

these waters, the innumerable ducks, feeding in beds of

thousands, or filling the air with their careering, with

the great numbers of beautiful white swans resting near

the shores, like banks of driven snow, he would naturally

suppose the facilities for their destruction were equal

to their profusion, and with so large an object in view, a

sportsman could scarcely miss his aim. But when he considers

the great thickness of their covering, the velocity of their

flight, the rapidity and duration of their diving, and the

great influence that circumstances of wind and weather have

on the chances of success, it becomes a matter of wonder how

so many are destroyed.

The usual mode of taking these birds has been, till recently,

by shooting from the points during the flight, or from the

land or boats, on their feeding grounds, or by _toling_,

as it is strangely termed, an operation by which the ducks

are sometimes induced to approach within a few feet of the

shore, from a distance often of several hundred yards. This

process, though it has been frequently described, may not

be uninteresting to repeat. A spot is usually selected where

the birds have not been much disturbed, and where they feed

at three or four hundred yards from, and can approach to

within forty or fifty yards of the shore, as they will never

come nearer than they can swim freely. The higher the tides

and calmer the day, the better, for they feed closer to the

shores and see more distinctly. Most persons on these waters

have a race of small, white or liver-colored dogs, which are

familiarly called the _toler_ breed, but which appear to be

the ordinary poodle.

These dogs are extremely playful, and are taught to run up

and down the shore, in sight of the ducks, either by the

motion of the hand, or by throwing chips from side to side.

They soon become perfectly acquainted with their business,

and as they discover the ducks approaching them, make their

jumps less high, till they almost crawl on the ground,

to prevent the birds discovering what the object of their

curiosity may be. This disposition to examine rarities,

has been taken advantage of, by using a red or black

handkerchief, by day, and white, by night, in toling,

or even by gently splashing the water on the shore. The

nearest ducks soon notice the strange appearance, whatever

the plan attempted, raise their heads, gaze intently for

a moment, then push for the shore. The rest follow suit,

and the author has, on many occasions, seen thousands of

them swimming in a solid mass, direct to the object; and

by removing the dog further into the grass, they have been

brought within fifteen feet of the bank. When they have

approached to about thirty or forty yards, their curiosity

is generally satisfied, when they swim laterally up and

down for a few seconds, and then retrograde in their old

spot. Whilst presenting the side view, is the moment to

shoot, and forty or fifty ducks have often been killed

by a small gun. The _black-heads_ tole the most readily,

then the _red-heads_, next the _canvass-backs_, and the

_bald-pates_ rarely; and this is the ratio of their approach

to the points in flying, although if the canvass-back has

determined on his direction, few circumstances will change

his course. The total absence of cover or precaution against

exposure to sight, or even a large fire, will not turn these

birds aside on such occasions.

In _flying_ shooting, the _bald-pate_ is a great nuisance,

for they are so shy, that they not only avoid the points

themselves, but by their whistling and confusion of flight

at such times, alarm others; and few days occur during the

season, without many maledictions on their very existence.

As simple as it may appear to shoot, with success, into

a solid mass of ducks, sitting on the water at forty or

fifty yards’ distance, yet, when you recollect, that you are

placed nearly level with the water, the object opposed to

the visual line, even though composed of hundreds, may be in

appearance but a foot or two in width. To give, therefore,

the best promise of success, old duckers recommend that the

_nearest_ duck should be in perfect relief above the sight,

whatever the size of the column, to avoid the common result

of over-shooting. The correctness of this principle was

illustrated to the writer, in an instance in which he had

_toled_, to within a space between forty and seventy yards

of the shore, a bed of certainly hundreds of ducks. Twenty

yards beyond the outside birds of the solid mass, were

five black-heads, one of which was alone killed out of the

_whole_ number, by a deliberate aim into the _middle_ of the

large flock, from a rest, by a heavy, well-proved duck-gun.

Before I leave the subject of _sitting_ shooting, I will

mention an occurrence that took place on Bush river, a few

years since. A man whose house was situated near the bank,

on rising early one morning, observed the river had frozen,

except an open space of ten or twelve feet in diameter,

at about eighty yards from the shore, nearly opposite his

house. The spot was full of ducks, and with a heavy gun he

fired into it; many were killed, and those that flew soon

returned, and were again and again shot at, till fearful he

was injuring those already his own, he ceased the massacre,

and brought on shore ninety-two ducks, most of which were

canvass-backs.

Canvass-backs, when wounded, on the streams near the bay,

instantly direct their course for it, where they nestle

among the grass, on the shores, till cured, or destroyed

by eagles, hawks, gulls, foxes, or other vermin, that are

constantly on the search; and if a dead canvass-back be not

soon secured, he becomes a prey to the gulls, who rarely

touch any other kind, so refined is their taste. I have seen

severe contests take place between crippled canvass-backs

and gulls, and although a pounce or two generally prevents

further resistance, sometimes they are driven off. If the

bird is remarkably savory, the gull makes such a noise, that

others are soon collected, when possession is determined by

courage or strength.――_Doughty’s Cabinet._

55 – When wounded in the wing alone, a large swan will readily

beat off a dog, and is more than a match for a man in four

feet water, a stroke of the wing having broken an arm, and

the powerful feet almost obliterating the face of a good

sized duck shooter. They are often killed by rifle balls

thrown from the shore into the feeding column, and as a ball

will _ricochet_ on the water for several hundred yards, a

wing may be disabled at the distance of half a mile.

These birds are often brought within shooting range, by

sailing down upon them whilst feeding, and, as they arise

against the wind, and cannot leave the water for fifteen

or twenty yards, against which they strike their enormous

feet and wings most furiously, great advantage is gained in

distance. They must be allowed on _all_ occasions to turn

the side, for a breast shot rarely succeeds in entering.

When two feeding coves are separated by a single point,

by disturbing the swans in one or the other occasionally,

they will pass and repass very closely to this projection of

land, and usually taking as they do, the straight line, each

gunner, to prevent dispute, names the bird he will shoot at.

In winter, boats covered by pieces of ice, the sportsman

being dressed in white, are paddled or allowed to float

during the night into the midst of a flock, and they have

been oftentimes killed, by being knocked on the head and

neck by a pole. There is, however, much danger in this mode,

as others may be engaged in like manner, but shooting, and

at a short distance, the persons might not be distinguished

from the swan. These birds seem well aware of the range

of a gun, and I have followed them in a skiff for miles,

driving a body of several hundreds before me, without the

possibility of getting quite within shooting distance.

It is a curious circumstance, that Wilson has neither

figured nor described this beautiful and common bird

in his ornithology; but Mr. Lawson, the engraver of his

splendid plates, and also his personal friend, informs me,

he had waited for another southern expedition, which he did

not live to perform. A particular history, in detail, of

this splendid bird has heretofore never been given to the

public.――_Sharpless._

56 – The rock fish is universally known in all the rivers, and

smaller tide-water streams, throughout the United States.

The following description of the mode in which this fish is

trolled for in the Susquehannah may be interesting. It is

taken from the American Sporting Magazine.

‘The season for trolling begins in the latter part of May,

and commonly ends about the middle of July; but some years

lasts during August. In the month of June the rock fish

generally bite best. To make good fishing, the river should

not be very high nor low, muddy nor clear, but betwixt

extremes in these respects. If the water be clear, the fish

dart off at sight of the line; and it is thought, they leave

the rapids, when the river is rising, or muddy, to feed upon

the flats in the Chesapeak.

‘Trolling is very much practised from Port Deposit, to

almost any given distance up the river, but not below. The

grass that the ducks feed upon, grows too thick on the flats

in tide-water for trolling, and the channel is uniformly

too deep. The rapids above, where the water is in many parts

shoal, and the rocky bottom clear of grass, is the proper

place for trolling.

‘Two persons generally fish from the same boat; one of

them steers with one hand, and fishes with the other.

Each fisherman lets his line out over the side of the boat

nearest to him, and close to the stern, (where they sit,)

holding it in his hand, a few inches from the water, and

leaves the end attached to the cork in the bottom of the

boat. He pays out nearly all his line, and keeps constantly

pulling it, by short jerks, to feel if it is running over

a rock or tree top. The boat is rowed as fast as possible

across the river, from shore to shore, above, and as near

to the falls as they can go, to avoid being swept down them.

The rock fish lie below the falls and ripples, waiting for

the small fish that are carried over by the current. Here

then the bait falls over, with a constant rotary motion,

like a live fish whirled over, side foremost, and struggles

in vain against the falls. The swivels turn every time the

bait turns, and prevent the line from twisting up into knots;

and as there are no sinkers, the rapid head-way of the boat

drags them along so fast that the lines have no time to

sink. At sight of the bait tumbling over the falls, the

rock fish darts upwards from his cavern in the rocks, and

swallows hook and all. The bite of the rock fish is quick

as lightning, and gives a sudden jerk to the arm of the

fisherman. When he first discovers he is snared, he rises

to the top of the water, and begins to lash it furiously

with his forked tail, like “a spirit conjured from the vasty

deep,” then plunges down again to the bottom. He is dragged

from thence by the fisherman, who hauls in his long line,

hand over hand, until he brings his fish alongside of the

boat. If he is of tolerable size, weighing only seven or ten

pounds, the troller lifts him into the boat by the line; but

if the fish is large, he runs his arm down into the water,

and lifts him in by his gills.

‘The excitement that this scene produces in all those in

the boat, is not to be described. One instant you see the

fish making the water foam with his tail, the next you lose

sight of him; one instant the troller feels him jerking

desperately backwards, the next he darts ahead towards the

boat, carrying the line with him; and the fisherman, who

ceases to feel him, is distressed for fear he has broken

loose from the hook. The black oarsmen ease up rowing to

laugh and shout with great glee. The troller’s anxiety

to secure his fish is so great, that he alone, of all the

company, is silent, and full of uneasiness, until he gets

him into the boat. In this manner, it is not unusual to

catch, with two lines, ten or twenty fish, varying in weight

from five to twenty pounds each, in an hour――sometimes they

are caught much larger. When the fish do not bite fast, the

troller does not become wearied soon; his line is always

out, and he is in constant expectation of feeling a bite,

as the boat glides backwards and forwards across the river,

in search of luck; he is not confined to one rock, like the

sleepy angler.

‘This would be very dangerous sport to persons unaccustomed

to it; let no presumptuous cits venture upon it by

themselves. The flat-bottomed boat must be rowed through the

most dangerous falls and whirlpools in the river. Sometimes

she is forced, at an imperceptible progress, against a

current running down at an angle of forty-five degrees. If

one of the oarsmen happens to fail in strength, or to dip

his oar with a false stroke, the current will snatch it

upwards out of his hands, and the frail skiff will be dashed

to pieces amongst the rocks. Often they are obliged to get

out of the boat on some rock above water, and haul her over.

A person unaccustomed to it, cannot rely upon his senses

of hearing or seeing. He is first deafened by the stunning

roar of the incessant flood, then sickened by the tossing of

the skiff amongst the waves and eddies. The huge rocks that

rear themselves thick to oppose the rushing waters, covered

with eagles, and cormorants, and the little islands all

_seem to be_ swimming backwards. And now she flies across

a shoal――at first glimpse, the little skiff seems to rest

securely on the bottom; at the next, the solid bottom

appears deceitfully to recede from beneath her, and leave

her to founder in the dark waters of a bottomless swirl.

And again, before _he_ is aware of it, she seems to have

approached so near the falls that nothing can prevent her

from going over side foremost. All these false appearances

rushing in succession, quick as thought, upon the mind of

the troubled cockney, turn his brain with dizziness.’

57 – A curious incident occurred at this spot to one of our men

named La Course, which was nearly proving fatal. This man

had stretched himself on the ground, after the fatigue of

the day, with his head resting on a small package of goods,

and quickly fell asleep. While in this situation I passed

him, and was almost petrified at seeing a large rattlesnake

moving from his side to his left breast. My first impulse

was to alarm La Course; but an old Canadian, whom I had

beckoned to the spot, requested me to make no noise,

alleging it would merely cross the body, and go away. He

was mistaken; for on reaching the man’s left shoulder, the

serpent deliberately coiled itself, but did not appear to

meditate an attack. Having made signs to several others,

who joined us, it was determined that two men should advance

a little in front, to divert the attention of the snake,

while one should approach La Course behind, and with a long

stick endeavor to remove it from his body. The snake, on

observing the men advance in front, instantly raised its

head, darted out its forked tongue, and shook its rattles;

all indications of anger. Every one was now in a state of

feverish agitation as to the fate of poor La Course, who

still lay slumbering, unconscious of his danger; when the

man behind, who had procured a stick seven feet in length,

suddenly placed one end of it under the coiled reptile, and

succeeded it pitching it upwards of ten feet from the man’s

body. A shout of joy was the first intimation La Course

received of his wonderful escape, while in the mean time

the man with the stick pursued the snake which he killed. It

was three feet six inches long, and eleven years old, which,

I need not inform my readers, we easily ascertained by the

number of rattles. A general search was then commenced about

the encampment, and under several rocks we found upwards of

fifty of them, all of which we destroyed. There is no danger

attending their destruction, provided a person has a long

pliant stick, and does not approach them nearer than their

length, for they cannot spring beyond it, and seldom act

on the offensive except closely pursued. They have a strong

repugnance to the smell of tobacco, in consequence of which

we opened a bale of it, and strewed a quantity of loose

leaves about the tents, by which means we avoided their

visits during the night――_Ross Cox._

58 – Silliman’s Journal.

59 – For a list of the counties in this and the other states,

with their population, see the statistical tables at the end

of the volume.

60 – Baltimore has the honor, I believe, of being the first city

which has raised an architectural memorial of its gratitude

to Washington. It consists of a column of white marble,

rising from a quadrangular base. The shaft of the column is

about one hundred and twenty feet high, and is surmounted

by a colossal statue, which, from its throne, seems proudly

to overlook the city. The design of this monument, which is

yet unfinished, is simple and grand, and does honor to the

taste of the city. Its gross height, including the statue

and pedestal, is about a hundred and sixty feet.

In one of the squares of the city, there is what is called

the Battle Monument, a sort of trophy column, erected to

commemorate the repulse of the attack on the city during

the late war, and the names of those who fell in its

defence. This structure, which is about fifty feet in

height, consists of a column representing the Roman fasces,

symbolical of the union, rising from a square pedestal,

which tapers in the Egyptian style, with a griffin at each

corner. Above is the statue of Victory, with an eagle at

her side. The effect of the whole is sadly injured by a most

anomalous perplexity of petty details. Indeed so vicious

is this monument, in point of taste, that it is difficult

to believe it the production of the same period which has

adorned the city with the noble structure to Washington.

I remember being asked by a lady, in one of the first

visits I paid in Baltimore, whether I had seen this monument.

Having answered in the negative, she proceeded to inform

me that it was very beautiful, but, as if struck by a

sudden recollection, somewhat eagerly apologised for the

introduction of the subject, on account of the painful

feelings which this memorial of failure in his country’s

arms, could not fail to excite in an English spectator. In

reply, I took the liberty to assure her that her regrets

on this matter were entirely gratuitous; that I should

have great pleasure in examining the monument, and really

entertained no apprehension of suffering from any pungency

of feeling on the occasion. It was easy to observe, however,

that my disclaimers, like the inaugural _nolo episcopari_

of the bishops, went for nothing with my fair auditor. Her

apologies for having wounded my feelings, became even more

strenuous than before; and as it was evidently agreeable

that I should appear in the light of a mortified man, I at

length judged it better to desist from farther disclamation.

If I know any thing of John Bull, he is not quite so

sensitive a person, as it pleases the good people on

this side of the water to believe him; and the idea of an

Englishman, at the present day, being distressed by regret

at the failure of the attack on Baltimore, is, perhaps,

somewhat closely connected with the ludicrous.

Baltimore is celebrated for its hospitality and the beauty

of its women, and I can bear testimony to the justice of

its reputation for both. In no other city of the United

States is the former so frequent and habitual, and in

none are there so few of the sordid characteristics of

traffic apparent to a stranger. There struck me as being

at Baltimore, more effort than elsewhere, to combine the

pleasures of social life with professional labor. The

effect of this is generally felt in society. The tone of

conversation is lighter and more agreeable, and topics of

mere commercial interest are rarely obtruded at the dinner

table.

In Baltimore, there is not much pretension of any sort, and

the average of literary accomplishment is, perhaps, lower

than in Philadelphia or Boston. In such matters, however,

a transient visitor can form, at best, but an uncertain and

very fallible judgment; but I can with truth assert, that my

recollections of Baltimore are of the most agreeable kind,

and that I quitted it with a strong sentiment of regard for

several of its inhabitants, which time has yet done nothing

to diminish.

The ladies of Baltimore, I have already intimated, are

remarkable for personal attraction; indeed, I am not aware

that, in proportion to the numbers assembled, I have ever

seen so much beauty as in the parties of Baltimore. The

figure is, perhaps, deficient in height, but sylph-like and

graceful; the features are generally regular and delicately

modelled, and the fair Baltimoreans are less remarkable

than the American ladies usually are, for the absence of a

certain fulness and grace of proportion, to which, from its

rarity, one is led, perhaps, to attach somewhat too much

value as an ingredient of beauty.――_Hamilton’s America._

61 – The road, as we approached Boston, lay through a more

populous country, and we passed a height, which commanded a

fine view of the bay. At length, entering on a long street,

I found myself surrounded by the busy hum of a great city.

The first impression was decidedly favorable. There is in

Boston less of that rawness of outline, and inconsistency of

architecture, which had struck me in New York. The truth is,

that the latter has increased so rapidly, that nine tenths

of the city have been built within the last thirty years,

and probably one half of it within a third of the period. In

Boston, both wealth and population have advanced at a slower

pace. A comparatively small portion of the city is new, and

the hand of time has somewhat mellowed even its deformities,

contributing to render that reverend, which was originally

rude.

There is an air of gravity and solidity about Boston; and

nothing gay or flashy, in the appearance of her streets, or

the crowd who frequent them. New York is a young giantess,

weighing twenty stone, and yet frisky withal. Boston, the

matron of stayed and demure air, a little past her prime,

perhaps, yet showing no symptom of decay. The former is

brisk, bustling, and annually outgrowing her petticoats. The

latter fat, fair, and forty, a great breeder, but turning

her children out of doors, as fast as she produces them. But

it is an old and true apophthegm, that similes seldom run on

all fours, and therefore it is generally prudent not to push

them too far.

Boston stands on an undulating surface, and is surrounded

on three sides by the sea. The harbor is a magnificent

basin, encircled by a beautiful country, rising in gentle

acclivities, and studded with villas. There is nothing

very handsome about the town, which is rather English

in appearance, and might in truth be easily mistaken for

our more populous seaports. A considerable number of the

buildings are of granite, or, more properly speaking, of

sienite; but brick is the prevailing material, and houses

of framework are now rarely to be met with in the streets

inhabited by the better orders. The streets are narrow, and

often crooked, yet, as already stated, they exhibit more

finish and cleanliness than are to be found in New York.

In architecture, I could discover little to admire. The

state house stands on an eminence commanding the city; it

is a massive square building, presenting in front a piazza

of rusticated arches, surmounted by a gratuitous range of

Corinthian columns, which support nothing. The building in

front has a small attic with a pediment, and from the centre

rises a dome, the summit of which is crowned by a square

lantern.

The comparative diffusion of literature in Boston has

brought with it a taste for the fine arts. The better houses

are adorned with pictures; and in the Athenæum――a public

library and reading room――is a collection of casts from the

antique. Establishments for the instruction of the people in

the higher branches of knowledge, are yet almost unknown in

the United States, but something like a Mechanics’ Institute

has at length been got up in Boston, and I went to hear

the introductory lecture. The apartment, a large one, was

crowded by an audience whose appearance and deportment

were in the highest degree orderly and respectable. The

lecture was on the steam engine, the history, principle,

and construction of which were explained most lucidly by

the lecturer, who belonged, I was assured, to the class of

operative mechanics.――_Men and Manners in America._

62 – _Mount Auburn._――If the taste of our readers resembles

our own, we can assure them that they will have no reason

to regret the exertion, if they take a walk through the

retreats of Mount Auburn, at the present season of the year.

They may suppose that the fall of the leaf has deprived

the place of most of its attractions; but it is one of the

recommendations of this beautiful spot, that it remains

pleasant through so many months. As the spring opens, it is

a favorable place to watch the restoration of nature――the

returns of the bird to his favorite home, and the opening of

the sealed urns of the flower; in the summer, a fine retreat

from the sultriness is offered by its deep caverns of green,

formed by heavy masses of rich and various foliage, such as

is found in no other part of this region; and now, in the

closing year, even after the splendid drapery of autumn is

taken down, and the rustle of the dead leaf, together with

the sullen whistle of the wind through its deserted avenues,

seems to speak of nothing but desolation, the lover of

nature still finds every thing in perfect harmony with the

feelings which such a place is desired to awaken. There

is something melancholy in the sight, indeed, but the

associations are neither painful nor oppressive. We know

that the spring will return, and the voice of the bird will

wake the earth from its slumber; the trees will be covered

with beauty, and the streams move on again with music in

their flow; by a familiar association, we are reminded that

a similar happy and reviving change awaits those who have

gone down to the dust in peace, when that which is sown in

weakness shall be raised in power. When thoughts like these

are brought home to the breast, there is consolation in them;

even the eye filled with tears, may brighten with the hope

of immortality.

We trust that the same good judgment which has presided over

the work thus far, will conduct it to its close. It stands

in complete and honorable contrast with most resting places

of the dead. There are few of those monuments, which seem

intended to commemorate the folly of the living, rather than

the memory of the departed――few of those inscriptions which

tell us of those who sleep below, not what they were, but

what they ought to have been. We cannot say that we admire

the rocky cells of the tomb, with their heavy iron grates;

but the taste in this respect is generally governed by early

associations, and we shall not presume to censure feelings

which we do not understand. Among the monuments are many

of great beauty; we were struck with a plain black marble

obelisk of exquisite polish, ornamented only by a single

cross, in relief, on the surface of the stone. There

are several granite obelisks, of plain and almost severe

simplicity, which are admirably suited to the place and the

purpose: several fine monuments of white marble, among which

are an unfinished column, and a cenotaph erected by the

mechanics of Boston to the memory of a lamented young man,

who died at a distance from his home. We apprehend that the

whitest of this marble, however bright at first, will be

soon defaced and blackened by the droppings from the trees

above; it is generally less firm and hard than such as is

veined and shaded, and therefore not so well suited for

memorials that are meant to resist the elements and the

waste of time. The classical form is generally preferred

for this purpose, and with good reason; the ancients have

left us little to do in these respects but to follow their

example. We did not see a single copy of the tomb discovered

by Dr. Clarke, in Naxos, which is in our view one of the

most imposing, and is found in some places in this country.

The _cippus_ is well calculated also for our purposes: we

want monuments of simple outline; for there is taste enough

in our community generally, to feel that fine decorations

are out of their place in cities of the dead. The outline

is more to be regarded than the color: marble of pearly

whiteness would contrast beautifully with the green

back-ground; but since it is less suited to the exposure

required, it is well to use the hardier material in which

our country abounds.

The generations of men are so rapidly passing away, that a

few years will make this interesting place rich in mournful

and sacred associations. We noticed the monument of Hannah

Adams, the first tenant of the place, remarkable for

her fair and discriminating mind, and still more so for

her child-like singleness of heart. Spurzheim also is

there――honored for his enlarged and liberal feeling,

by those who had no confidence in his philosophical

speculations. We have already alluded to the cenotaph

elected to a young man of high promise, by which his friends

have commemorated his virtues and their own loss. But it

is not always those whose loss is most widely felt, whose

memory is most fondly remembered; many who go to the grave

almost unknown, will give sacredness to this place in the

feeling of those who loved them. The parent will regard

it with emotion, because there he saw his child laid upon

a colder pillow than a mother’s breast――or the youth, who

perished in the brightness of his rising, and left his

friends to mourn not only for all he was, but all they

hoped he would have been. The community will turn to it,

as the place where the generous and enlightened, the useful

and honored, rest from their labors; where those who have

passed through the various changes of public confidence,

carry their rivalship and ambition down to the dust. Each

inclosure will have its recollections gathered about it like

the summer leaves over the monument; the feelings of men

of various pursuits and characters will be drawn from all

directions toward this single point of melancholy attraction.

The memorial which one passes coldly by, will fix the

attention of another: the stone which is to one simply a

memorial of a stranger, will be gazed upon by another till

‘his heart is faint, and his eyes are dim.’

We cannot but hope that this example will be followed; the

community at large have yet to learn the right feeling of

respect for the dead. That respect is not shown only by

the care which guards the sepulchre from violation――nor by

setting up ghastly monuments, covered with tales of idle

vanity or unmeaning affection. Whoever goes into the burial

places of many of our villages, sees naked marbles, which

after a few years lean with age, and find no hand to restore

them. Nature, as if ashamed of man, seems endeavoring to

hide what he has done with her tall golden rod and towering

plants, which grow as luxuriantly as if they were fed from

the graves below;――and all is surrounded, not protected, by

a vile paling of unpainted wood, which defends it from no

animal but man. The true respect for the dead will be shown

by making their resting place such, that the stranger shall

not retreat from it in disgust and scorn, by employing the

decorations of nature, which are always at command. One

tenth part of the expense which is now lavished on the

absurd and ungraceful head-stones in almost every village

of New England, would make their burial grounds, places

which could be pointed out to the traveller without regret

and shame; and what is still better, would permit the

living to go and draw instruction from communion with the

dead.――_Boston Daily Advertiser._

63 – There are seventeen other towns, named Concord, in different

parts of the United States.

64 – Though New Orleans is rapidly increasing in size and

commercial importance, as the emporium of the rich valley

of the Mississippi must necessarily continue to do, yet

no improvement has taken place in the climate and in the

salubrity of the atmosphere, and even _acclimated_ whites

are afraid to remain when a greenish scum of vegetable

matter begins to appear on the shallow pools in August. It

is distressing to record the fact, that, on an average, six

hundred Irish perish yearly in and about New Orleans, who

come in search of employment, and high wages, (a dollar a

day), from New York and Charleston, to the ungenial clime

of Louisiana. They are commonly employed trenching in the

country, and digging the foundation of houses in towns,

inhale deadly vapors, and more deadly rum, have none to

advise or guide them, and perish miserably.

It may not be intrusive to state, in this place, the

precautions I took to guard against the formidable malady. I

slept in an upper story, performed my ablutions as regularly

as a Hindoo, ate animal food only once a day, and in small

quantities, (farinaceous substances form the natural food

of men,) drank no spirits, but two or three glasses of wine

per day, took three or four hours’ active exercise, kept

the mind employed, took once or twice a little precautionary

quinine, and avoided the night air, which crept insidiously

through the dull streets loaded with pestilential effluvia

from the slimy banks of the river, and from the creeks

of cypress swamps, the haunts of loathsome alligators and

snakes.

On the first of September, the thermometer at eight, P. M.

was about eighty-four degrees, without a breath of air, but

myriads of mammoth musquetoes.

New Orleans is called the ‘wet grave,’ because, in digging

‘the narrow house,’ water rises within eighteen inches of

the surface. Coffins are therefore sunk three or four feet,

by having holes bored in them, and two black men stand on

them till they fill with water, and reach the bottom of the

moist tomb. Some people are particular, and dislike this

immersion after death; and, therefore, those who can afford

it have a sort of brick oven built on the surface of the

ground, at one end of which the coffin is introduced, and

the door hermetically closed; but the heat of the southern

sun on this ‘whited sepulchre,’ must bake the body inside,

so that there is but a choice of disagreeables after all.

The plan on which penitentiaries are built, has suggested

to the Louisianians a new plan for interment: a broad brick

wall is built with rows of cells on each side, and in these

the dead are laid to wait for the awful blast of the angel

Gabriel, when the dead shall burst the cerements of the tomb,

and come forth to judgment.

Though it was the season of disease and death, yet the

gamblers still continued to reap their harvest in the city.

Night after night I was kept awake by the roulette table

in the neighboring house; and it is said that a revenue

of thirty-five thousand dollars a year is derived by the

city from licensed gambling houses, which sum supports an

hospital. Cock-fighting is a favorite amusement with both

whites and colored, and vice in every shape seems to hold

high carnival in this city of the great valley. However,

let no one judge of America from New Orleans, for it is

altogether _sui generis_; and, above all, let no future

traveller visit it in autumn, unless he wishes ‘to shake

off this mortal coil,’ and save the coroner some trouble.

The population of New Orleans was――

In 1802 10,000

“ 1810 17,242

“ 1820 27,176

“ 1831 50,000

This increase is quite astonishing, especially when we

consider that the population of the whole state of Louisiana

under the French, in 1763, was only eleven thousand. The

whites are said to be at present two hundred and twenty

thousand, and the slaves about one hundred and nineteen

thousand in the state.

In 1822, there were exported from the port of New Orleans,

one hundred and sixty-seven thousand seven hundred and

forty-two bales of cotton; and in this year, four hundred

and seventeen thousand four hundred and thirteen. In 1822,

twenty-six thousand two hundred and thirty-three hogsheads

of tobacco; and in this year, thirty-one thousand nine

hundred and thirty-three. Sugar and molasses, in 1829,

fifty-six thousand five hundred and sixty-six hogsheads,

and two thousand five hundred and eleven barrels of the

former, and twenty thousand nine hundred and forty hogsheads,

and eight thousand two hundred and forty-five barrels of

the latter. This season, fifty-two thousand one hundred and

forty-two hogsheads, and two thousand six hundred and fifty

barrels of sugar; and twenty-two thousand eight hundred

and seventy-two hogsheads, and fourteen thousand seven

hundred and ninety-four barrels of molasses. Commerce

will be facilitated by another canal from the city to lake

Pontchartrain, to be commenced next year; and I travelled

from the city to the lake, four miles on a rail-road, on

which there are now locomotive engines. The citizens seem

determined to avoid the one hundred and ten miles of river

navigation.

At New Orleans, in the gay season, they have very pleasant,

though expensive amusements, called ‘Bals de Bouquet,’ given

by the bachelors, but at the house of a lady. The _garcon_

who gives the dance, is distinguished by the title of king;

and his first care, when invested with the sovereignty, at

the beginning of the season, is to select among the ladies

of his acquaintance a queen to share his power, which he

delegates by crowning his fair partner with a wreath of

flowers. At her house, and in her name, is the ball then

given. After two or three quadrilles, the first queen rises

from her chair of state, and is conducted into the middle

of the room by the king, when gracefully raising a wreath

of flowers, which she bears in her hand, she places it on

the brow of a future king, (another bachelor of the party);

and he, after a low obeisance, having fixed upon his mate

in like manner, adorns her with the regalia of the bal

de bouquet. The new queen then accepts the proffered arm

of the king, the band plays a march, and followed by the

rest of the company, they polonoise round and round the

room. Dancing in its various branches succeeds; quadrilles,

Anglaises et Espagnoles are resumed with the greatest spirit,

and continued until after day breaks, when the first King

and queen cease to reign.

After an unusually hot and sultry day, the sun assuming at

the same time a greenish hue, and the streets in the evening,

as I walked home to my empty hotel, sending forth a most

disgusting effluvium; in the middle of the night I was awoke

by the noise of the doors and window’s violently agitated

by the wind; it increased to the hurricane roar, lulled, and

rose again, and blew with appalling force from the opposite

point of the compass, rain, at the same time, deluging the

city. Thus it continued all next day: the sea rushed into

lake Pontchartrain; behind the town it burst its banks, and

the city was under water, the levee only being dry. There

was no moving out of the house for many hours, and this led

me to believe that, one day this city, rapidly increasing

as it is in wealth and consequence, will be swept into the

gulf of Mexico, if the Mississippi happens to rise unusually

high at the annual inundation, and at the same time the

south-east wind raise the sea at its mouth and in the lakes.

More vessels were driven on shore in this hurricane; the

unburied dead were laid in their coffins in the grave-yard,

and floated about till the waters subsided to allow of their

being buried――the stench was horrible. Many houses were

unroofed, and almost all damaged in some way or other. Many

lives were lost; some boats and canoes upset in crossing the

river; and, as usual (whether it proceed from the alligators

or under current,) none who fall into the Mississippi at

New Orleans, are ever seen again; and, lastly, the huts of

several fishermen were swept off to sea, and the poor people

miserably perished.’――_Alexander’s Transatlantic Sketches._

65 – That the Americans, however, were not unmindful of the

respect paid to his remains by the British, appears from the

following part of the inscription upon the monument:

‘His bravery in action

Was only equalled by his modesty in triumph,

And his magnanimity to the vanquished.

In private life

He was a gentleman of the most generous and endearing

qualities;

And so acknowledged was his public worth,

That the whole nation mourned his loss,

And the enemy contended with his countrymen

Who most should honor his remains.’

There is a monument near it to the memory of General

Hamilton, who had served with distinction under Washington,

and ranked high as a statesman. He was killed in a duel by

Colonel Burr, the vice president of the United States.

The inscription is as follows:

To the memory of Alexander Hamilton

The corporation of Trinity church

Have erected this monument,

In testimony of their respect for

The patriot of incorruptible integrity,

The soldier of approved valor,

The statesman of consummate wisdom;

Whose talents and whose virtues

Will be admired by a grateful posterity

Long after this marble shall have mouldered into dust.

He died July 2d, 1804, aged forty-seven.

――_Subaltern’s Furlough._

66 – The new Mint appears to be a favorite place of resort for

the curious among our fellow citizens. Visitors pass in by

the Chesnut street front at all hours of the morning, and

are at once ushered into a beautiful and capacious building,

well adapted for the important purposes for which it was

erected. When we look round its ample dimensions, we wonder

how it was possible to accommodate so extensive a business

as was done in the miserably confined apartments of the old

coining house in Seventh street, and fail not, at the same

time, to admire the neat and simple beauty of the present

building. The first object which attracts attention on

entering, is a huge steam engine, at the opposite end of the

building, the noise of which, added to the incessant jarring

of the dies, gives token of the laborious purpose to which

it is applied. This engine, of thirty horse power, is the

most highly-finished specimen of the steam engine we have

ever witnessed. The shafts, upright and horizontal, are of

polished metal, and most of the cogwheels are of brass. The

huge fly-wheels run with the precision of a watch-wheel,

while the various and totally different purposes to which

its power is applied, strike the beholder with admiration

of the skill and ingenuity of the machinist. Rush and

Muhlenburg, of this city, constructed this engine; its cost

was about eight thousand dollars.

From the hot rooms in which the bullion is converted into

ingots, we entered the rooms where the ingots are passed

through a succession of steel rollers, until they assume

the flatness and thinness of a common iron hoop. Thence

we ascended into a room where these thin bars are passed

through a steel guage, to give them a uniform thickness,

equal to that of the half-dollar. A punch, worked by the

same engine, cuts out the silver of a proper size; the

scraps of silver are melted over again into ingots. From

this room the prepared bits are taken down into the die

room, where they are passed on their edges, through a machine

which gives them the impression they bear upon the edge.

They are thence handed over to the coiners, by whom they are

placed in a tube, in a pile a foot high, whence they drop

one at a time, on a slide which conveys them directly to

the dies. Here they receive the proper impression on each

side, from dies forced together by means of an iron bar

ten or twelve feet long, worked horizontally by three men.

The instant the coin receives its proper impression, it

is forced off the die into a box ready to receive it, and

gives place to another, which immediately occupies the same

position, and undergoes the same operation.

After having gone through the whole establishment, the

impression left upon the mind is that of astonishment

and wonder, that an end of such immense importance as the

supply of coin for a whole nation, can be attained by means,

apparently, so simple, and of such ready comprehension.

The spectator, going through alone, needs no one to explain

this or that operation. Every thing explains itself on the

instant; for every thing is free from mystery or concealment,

while the excellent condition of the establishment, and the

extreme politeness to strangers, manifested by every person

about it materially enhances the pleasure of a visit to the

Mint of the United States.――_Philadelphia paper._

67 – We reached Rochester under the influence of a burning sun.

The hotel was excellent, and the luxury of cold baths, and

the civility of the landlord, induced me to delay progress

to the following day. In the cool of the evening, I strolled

out to see the falls of the Gennessee. The height of the

uppermost is considerable, being about ninety feet, and the

water rushes over it gracefully enough; but the vicinity

of sundry saw and corn mills has destroyed the romantic

interest which invested it in the days when ‘the cataract

blew his trumpet from the steep,’ amid the stillness of the

surrounding forest.

The old proverb _de gustibus_, &c. receives illustration in

every country. An eccentric man, called Sam Patch, having an

aversion to honest industry, made it his profession to jump

over all the water-falls in the country. Niagara was too

much for him, but he sprang from a lofty rock, some distance

below the Horse-shoe fall, with impunity. His last jump

was at the fall I have just described, of the Gennessee, in

the autumn of 1829. From a scaffold, elevated twenty-five

feet above the table rock, making a descent altogether of a

hundred and twenty-five feet, he fearlessly plunged into the

boiling caldron beneath. From the moment of his immersion,

he was seen no more. His body was not discovered for many

months, and was at length found at the mouth of the river,

six miles below.

Rochester is a place worth seeing. Thirty years ago there

was not a house in the neighborhood, and now there is a

town, containing twenty thousand good Americans and true,

with churches, banks, theatres, and all other oppidan

appurtenances to match. Such growth is more like forcing in

a hot-bed, than the natural progress of human vegetation.

For a great deal of its prosperity, Rochester is indebted

to the Erie canal, which brought its advantageous proximity

to lake Ontario into full play. The canal runs through the

centre of the town, and crosses the Gennessee by an aqueduct,

which, according to the Northern Tourist, ‘cost rising

of eighty thousand dollars,’ whatever sum that may amount

to. There are several streets in Rochester which might be

backed at reasonable odds against any in Hull or Newcastle,

to say nothing of Cork, Falmouth, or Berwick-upon-Tweed.

The appearance of the shops indicates the prevalence of

respectable opulence. Those of the jewellers display a stock

of Paris trinkets and silver snuff-boxes. There are silks

and Leghorn bonnets for the seduction of the ladies, and

the windows of the tailors are adorned by colored prints of

gentlemen in tight-fitting swallow-tails, with the epigraph,

‘New York fashions for May.’――_Men and Manners in America._

68 – A recent traveller, who entertains no great partiality for

the institutions of our country, but whose volume is well

written, and entertaining, makes the following observations

on the society of our metropolis:

Washington is, undoubtedly, the gayest place in the union;

and must, I should imagine, be the very paradise of hackney

coachmen. If these gentlemen do not get rich, it must be

owing to some culpable extravagance, for their vehicles are

in continual demand from the hour of dinner till five in

the morning, and long distances and heavy charges are all in

their favor. Washington, too, is the only place in the union

where people consider it necessary to be agreeable; where

pleasing, as in the old world, becomes a sort of business,

and the enjoyments of social intercourse enter into the

habitual calculations of every one.

The reason of this is obvious enough. The duties of

legislation bring together a large body of gentlemen from

all quarters of the union, whose time in the morning is

generally passed in the capitol; but who, without the

_delassements_ of dinner parties and balls, would find their

evening hours a burden somewhat difficult to dispose of.

Idle men are always pleasant; they feel the necessity of

being so, and make it their occupation, when they have no

other. Your lawyer, or your merchant, on the other hand,

is so engrossed by weightier matters, that he has no time

to cultivate the graces of life, or those thousand arts

of courtesy which contribute so materially to enhance the

enjoyments of society. The experience of the world is in

favor of the assertion, that it is impossible to excel both

in pleasure and business. A man of talent may select the

sphere of his ambition, the bar, the pulpit, the exchange,

the senate, or the drawing-room; but to attempt the honors

of a double triumph is, in general, to secure but duplicity

of failure.

In Washington, all are idle enough to be as agreeable as

they can. The business of congress is no great burden on the

shoulders of any of its members; and a trip to Washington is

generally regarded as a sort of annual _lark_, which enables

a man to pass the winter months more pleasantly than in

the country. A considerable number of the members bring

their families, with a view of obtaining introduction to

better society than they can hope to meet elsewhere; but

the majority leave such incumbrances at home; some, it may

be presumed, from taste, and others from economy.

There are few families that make Washington their permanent

residence, and the city, therefore, has rather the aspect

of a watering place, than the metropolis of a great nation.

The members of congress generally live together in small

boarding-houses, which, from all I saw of them, are shabby

and uncomfortable. Gentlemen with families take lodgings, or

occupy apartments in a hotel; and it is really marvellous,

at the Washington parties, to see how many people are

contrived to be stowed away in a drawing-room, somewhat

smaller than an ordinary-sized pigeon-house. On such

occasions, one does not suffer so much from heat as from

suffocation; for not only does the whole atmosphere become

tainted in quality, but there seems an absolute deficiency

in quantity for the pulmonary demands of the company.

69 – Encyclopedia Americana.

70 – Mr. Stuart, during his residence in the United States,

appears to have made particular inquiries in respect to its

agriculture and horticulture. The following paragraph, in

which a comparison is drawn between the productions of our

gardens and those of Great Britain, is interesting:――

The farms in the neighborhood of New-York are all cultivated;

but having been long accustomed to the plough, and the

soil very different from that of Illinois, the application

of manure is indispensably necessary. The contiguity to

New-York insures tolerable prices for green crops, and a

great part of the land is devoted to them. Even the Lima bean

is cultivated in the field. The varieties of the bean in an

American garden last during great part of the summer; but

the heat of the sun is too great for green peas after the

first or second crop. Neither do artichokes thrive well, nor

cauliflowers, nor broccoli; but the tomato is excellent and

abundant, and pumpkins and vegetable marrow are plentiful.

Asparagus, too, is often cultivated on the field in Long

Island, and is nowhere of better quality. It is sometimes

sold in the New York market at two pence sterling per

hundred. Upon the whole, I think the vegetables for the

table in Great Britain are fully equal in variety and

quality to those in the United States; but they are much

higher in price. A great distinction is to be drawn between

the two countries respecting the article _fruit_. The

Americans have peaches, melons, apples, strawberries, and

cherries, all of excellent quality, and in such abundance,

that there is not a single individual in the whole country,

even the very shoe-black, whose funds do not enable him

to have as much of these fruits as he likes at the proper

season. There are also abundance of walnuts, and of

various sorts of nuts for every body. In many places,

but not universally, there are plums, pears, and grapes.

The plums, so far as have seen them, are not equal to

the English,――the pears, especially the sickle pear of

Pennsylvania, excellent,――the grapes quite inferior to those

in the open air in France, or in the south of England; but

the great difference between the countries exists in the

abundance of the first-mentioned fruits for the whole mass

of the people. Peaches are raised on standard trees only,

and, though universally good, are not superior in flavor to

those raised on garden walls, or in hot-houses in England.

They are reckoned better at Philadelphia than anywhere else.

Melons are considered best-flavored in Virginia and the

Carolinas; but they are so plentiful in New York, that there

is hardly a laborer who does not partake of a watermelon

every day during the hot season. Apples are as good in

the neighborhood of New York as anywhere. Apricots, and

nectarines, and figs, are hardly ever seen. It is therefore

clear, that a man of wealth may obtain greater variety of

fine fruit in England than in the United States, the melon

and apple alone being inferior to the melons and apples in

America; but all in this country have plenty of excellent

fruit.

71 – For this chapter we have been altogether indebted to the

excellent Address before the American Institute of New

York, by the Honorable Edward Everett. For a variety of

interesting statistical matter on Manufactures, see the

tables at the end of the volume.

72 – For further information and details in respect to the

commerce of the United States, see the tabular views and

summaries at the end of the volume.

73 – On the thirtieth of December, 1826, it had swelled to one

million, five hundred and thirty-four thousand.

74 – The following extract from the Lowell Journal possesses

sufficient interest to entitle it to preservation.

‘The excavation which is now about being made in a hill in

this town for the bed of the contemplated rail-way, may be

considered, next to the various manufacturing establishments,

the most wonderful “lion” of the place. This hill is near

the _terminus_ of the rail-way, in the neighborhood of the

brewery, but not in a populous part of the town. It consists

of a _ledge_ of rock, which is about three hundred yards

in length, and the average depth of the excavation is about

forty feet. It is thirty feet wide at the bottom, and sixty

at the top, and the masses of stone which have already been

riven from the ledge by blasting, seem to be immense.

‘A contract was originally made with a person to effect

a sufficient passage through this hill, for the sum of

seventy-two thousand dollars. He commenced the undertaking,

employed sixty workmen for about four months, _and failed_.

Another person then undertook to finish the work for the

same amount; but after a few months, he also abandoned

the undertaking. Those individuals are said to have both

been acquainted with the nature of the business which they

undertook, but they were deceived by the quality of the

rock, which consists principally of gneiss and mica, through

which, although much lighter and softer than limestone or

granite, it was found much more difficult and expensive to

effect a passage, than if it was composed of those more solid

materials. The _drilling_ may not be so difficult; but the

rocks, lying in numerous horizontal strata, almost defy the

power of gunpowder, and heavy blasts, which would shiver

an immense mass of granite, are frequently found here to

produce but little effect. In addition to this, the ledge

is found to be full of springs of water, which sometimes

render it necessary for the workmen to expend much time,

and exercise no inconsiderable ingenuity, in counteracting

its effects. There are also found in the lower part of the

ledge, huge masses of quartz, and a species of rock composed

almost entirely of hornblende, which is, of course, almost

impenetrable to the drill.

‘The Locks and Canal company have now undertaken to complete

this work, at the expense of the Rail-road company. About

seventy men are constantly employed, and the work advances

as rapidly as the attending circumstances will allow. Seven

hundred kegs of powder have been used in blasting, since the

latter part of April, when the work was recommenced.’

75 – In addition to the above, the following Rail-road companies

were incorporated at the session of the New York legislature

in 1832.

Name. Capital.

Lake Champlain and Ogdensburgh $3,000,000

Watertown and Rome 1,000,000

Utica and Susquehanna, (from Utica

to the New York and Erie rail-road) 1,000,000

Black river, (from the Erie canal, at

Rome or Herkimer, to the

St. Lawrence) 900,000

Ithaca and Geneva 800,000

Buffalo and Erie 650,000

Dutchess, (from Poughkeepsie to

Connecticut line) 600,000

Tonawanda, (from Rochester to Attica) 500,000

Hudson and Berkshire, (from Hudson to

Massachusetts line) 350,000

Schoharie and Otsego, (from the

Catskill and Canajoharie rail-road

to the Susquehanna river) 300,000

Dansville and Rochester 300,000

Aurora and Buffalo 300,000

Rensselaer and Saratoga 300,000

Brooklyn and Jamaica 300,000

Fish-house and Amsterdam 250,000

Warren county, (from Glen’s Falls to

Caldwell) 250,000

Saratoga and Fort Edward 200,000

Otsego, (from Cooperstown to

Collierville) 200,000

Albion and Tonawanda 200,000

Auburn and Erie canal 150,000

Mayville and Portland 150,000

Elvira and Williamsport 75,000

76 – The following account of a visit to the Point of Rocks,

along the track of the rail-road from Baltimore to that

place, a distance of seventy-three miles, is interesting,

and may be not improperly introduced in this connection. It

is taken from the Baltimore American of June, 1832.

‘In the middle of the merry month of May, the governor of

Maryland, president of the Baltimore and Ohio rail-road

company, several of the directors and other gentlemen,

visited the Point of Rocks in one of the rail-road cars.

The road is so well known from Baltimore to Ellicott’s mill

that it requires no description, further than that point

has become a very desirable retreat, both on account of the

wild magnificence of the surrounding scenery and the elegant

accommodations of the hotel. From thence to the Monocacy, it

leads along the margin of the Patapsco river and Bush creek,

through a woody region rarely intersected by some cultivated

spots, and improvements indicating much comfort. The viaduct

across the Monocacy is a light, airy and tasteful structure,

reflecting great credit on the architect, and of sufficient

solidity to insure its safety and duration. From that point

is a view of the bridge below, the mountains six miles

distant, and a short distance up and down the river. Here

the branch road leading to Frederick leaves the continuous

line which proceeds through a finely cultivated champaign

country for eleven miles to the Potomac. I formed one of

the party, and as every spot at the Point and the opposite

shore was familiar to me, I enjoyed a satisfaction, mingled

with some pleasing, melancholy recollections of former days,

which was not felt by others, although I believe that every

one was highly gratified with the trip, which took up about

twelve hours, allowing time to breakfast at the Mills, dine

at Frederick, and an hour to examine the long-contested

Point, which rises in almost a perpendicular line from the

river, to the height of three or four hundred feet, on the

top of which is an Indian barrow where lay mouldering the

bones of some mighty Tecumsehs or valiant Little Turtles,

commingled with the arrows which probably have often been

dyed in the blood of many a noble tawny Hector or implacable

Achilles. Here the soaring eagle and boding raven have

immemorably pitched their eyries in social proximity, and

looked down upon the humble fish hawk perched upon a jutting

rock, or hovering with equal poise over his finny prey,

and from which there is a view of Harper’s Ferry, the Blue

ridge and Washington’s beloved river, studded with isles,

for several miles. The stillness of the scene is often broken

by the refreshing murmurs of Hook’s falls. Instead of the

low cabin under the pendant rock where I have often felt

the genial warmth of a blazing fire while waiting for the

ferry boat, there is now rising, as if by magic, the town

of Port Johnson. Already there are several houses, shops and

warehouses finished and occupied, and a large tavern nearly

completed on the rail-road, which will enable visiters to

spend time enough to enjoy all the beauties of the prospect

and a cheerful repast.

‘The distance from Baltimore is seventy miles, and may

be travelled going and returning in less than twenty-four

hours. But if the eye is delighted, and the senses gratified

with the objects on the Maryland side, they will be doubly

increased by passing to the other shore, where a tavern

and ferry house are erecting directly opposite the point

where the boats land. Immediately in the rear of the ferry

house, is a tunnel cut out of the solid rock three hundred

yards, at the base of the mountain; half a mile farther the

most extensive beds of excellent iron ore and a favorable

appearance of bituminous coal. The tunnel was made to let

the waters of Catoctin creek into a run which supplied

a furnace, saw and extensive merchant mills, destroyed

some years ago by fire. If the view charms from the Indian

barrows, it almost enraptures from the Virginia promontory,

which rises several hundred feet above it, looking down, as

it were, upon the little hillock of its Maryland neighbor.

The summit is gained by a circuitous road from the river,

about a mile in length, where immediately bursts upon the

eye the most beautiful and extensive prospect in the country.

On the one side you behold Harper’s Ferry gap, at twelve

miles distance, the whole valley of the Blue ridge as far

as vision can extend, on either side of the river the rich

settlements of the Maryland tract, the Friends, German

and Tunkerville districts, and the Blue ridge mountains.

The whole of these tracts are in the highest state of

cultivation, and from the height you occupy, appear like

large and beauteous gardens, irrigated with perennial

streams and adorned with tasty summer houses. On the other

side are seen the rich Loudon lands, the town of Leesburg,

the lofty Sugar-Loaf Peak in Maryland, and the verdant

fields of Carrollton manor, and from one point, the Potomac

for miles up and down, with its numerous islands, gentle

falls and smooth bosom. On both sides of the river at the

point will arrive in boats and wagons, hundreds of thousands

of barrels of flour, large quantities of lumber, iron, coal

and other productions for transportation on the rail-road.

A new energy will be imparted to the enterprising and

industrious population of both states by the choice of

markets at the district and Baltimore, and the facilities

of transportation. If, as Mr. Jefferson says, the view at

Harper’s Ferry is worth a voyage across the Atlantic, surely

that from the Virginia summit is worth a ride from Baltimore,

Philadelphia, New York, or even the cradle city of

independence.’

A Book of the United States Exhibiting its geography, divisions, constitution, and government ... and presenting a view of the republic generally, and of the individual states; together with a condensed history of the land, from its first discovery to the present time. The biography of about two hundred of the leading men: a description of the principal cities and towns; with statistical tables · 第 36 / 37 章

‘One day I was strolling in Hyde Park, in company with a