during the ensuing autumn, through Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and part of Pennsylvania. He was accustomed thus to occupy the intervals of professional duty; and, therefore, his journeys were undertaken for the express purpose of acquainting himself with the country and people—a fact indicative of liberal curiosity and a love of travel for its own sake, which is an indispensable requisite for the pleasing report thereof. It is not uninteresting to revert to some of the least uncommon experiences of such a writer, especially when we are familiar with the places described as they appear after nearly a century of prosperous development: we thus obtain veritable glimpses into the life of the past. At the outset of his journal he speaks of having breakfasted at Providence, R. I., "with Colonel Peck. He received me in a small house, where he lived with his wife, who is young also, and has a pleasing countenance, but without anything striking. This little establishment, where comfort and simplicity reign, gave an idea of that sweet and serene state of Happiness which appears to have taken refuge in the New World, after compounding it with Pleasure, to which it has left the Old." His local facts correspond with our experience of the town, which he describes as 66 pent between two chains of hills, one to the north and the other to the southwest, which causes an insupportable heat in summer; and it is exposed to the northwest wind, which rakes it from one end to the other, and renders it extremely cold in winter. Of the original source of its wealth to the inhabitants, he says they "carry on the Guinea tradebuy slaves and carry them to the West Indies, where they take bills of exchange on old England, for which they receive woollen stuffs and other merchandise." He never fails to note the accommodations at the inns, and is minute in comments on female character and appearance; thus, describing a maiden at a house where he tarried in Rhode Island, he says: "This young person had, like all American women, a very decent, nay, even serious carriage; she had no objection to be looked at, nor to have her beauty commended, nor even to receive a few caresses, provided it was done without an air

of familiarity or libertinism. Licentious manners, in fact, are so foreign in America, that freedom itself there bears a character of modesty." He remarks, as a striking circumstance, that in every house he found books which were evidently read; a "town" in America, he observes, means "a few houses grouped round a church and tavern." The obstacles to travelling he finds incessant, having often to cross ferries and to transport provisions and baggage on carts; he alludes to a landlady's expression that she could not spare one bed, as a local idiom. The chief man at Hartford, in those days, was Colonel Wadsworth. The Marquis was his guest, and speaks of his honesty as commissary to supply the French troops, and of the high regard in which he was held by Washington and Lafayette. Of Governor Trumbull he says: "He has all the simplicity in his dress, all the importance and even pedantry, becoming the chief magistrate of a small republic. He brought to my mind the burgomasters of Holland in the time of the Barnevelts." He examined manufactures, conversed with intelligent men, noted the "lay of the land," and estimated local resources; he was delighted at the sight of a bluebird, and descants upon the limited nomenclature which designated every water bird as a duck, from the teal to the black duck, distinguishing them only by the term "red," "wood," &c.; and calling cypress, firs, &c., all pine trees. He is impressed with the sight of "mountains covered with woods as old as the creation;" thinks always of Buffon as so many objects of natural history come in view; and experiences a sensation of wonder when, in the midst of" ancient deserts," he comes upon traces of a "settlement; " the process whereof he describes-how the rude hut gives place to the wooden house, the woods to the clearing; and then comes a piece of tilled land, and more trees are girdled and other roofs are raised, at which neighbors "assist " "with no other recompense than a barrel of cider or a gallon of rum." "Such are the means," he adds, "by which North America, only a hundred years ago a vast forest, is peopled with three millions of inhabitants.". As illustrative of the equality of

condition and personal independence, he speaks of the indif ferent reception often met with at the inns, where travellers often give "more trouble than money," and of the custom of the country, when a public house is not at hand, for the traveller to claim and pay for byway hospitality. He compares this conduct with the obsequious manners of innkeepers in France, and accounts for it by the fact that, in this primitive community, "innkeepers are independent of their vocation." He found broken panes common, and glaziers rare; he is enraptured with the scenery of the Housatonic, and the Hudson Highlands. Amid the latter he is saluted with thirteen guns as major-general, by General Heath, then in command there, the echoes whereof are marvellous; the scene of Arnold's treason inspires him with grave thoughts; he describes the batteries, praises the officer in command, and admires the magnificent view. "The guns they fired," he says, "had belonged to Burgoyne's army." Here he is entertained by the officers, enjoys their reminiscences of the war, and talks over the treason of Arnold, then but two years old; he visited Smith's house, and reflects earnestly on this memorable incident: "in this warlike abode," he declares, one seems transported to the bottom of Thrace, and the dominions of the god Mars;" thence he goes to Lafayette's camp, and notes details as to the state of the army; on seeking his first interview with Washington, he finds him talking with his officers in a farmyard," a tall man, five feet nine inches high, of a noble and mild countenance;" by the chief he is immediately presented to Knox, Wayne, Hamilton, and others. After three days of delightful intercourse with the leaders of the American army at headquarters, he breakfasts with Lord Stirling, and, upon taking leave of Washington, is presented by him with a horse, of which he stood in much need; and proceeds to New Jersey, where he visits the battle fields of Trenton, Monmouth, and Princeton; at the latter place visiting Dr. Witherspoon, the head of the college; and enjoying the novel carols of a mocking bird. "Addison said," he writes, "in visiting the different monuments of Italy, that he imagined

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himself on classic ground; all my steps were on martial ground; I went, in the same morning, to see two fields of battle." He finds the custom of giving toasts and speeches at table very irksome; and, in allusion to Governor Livingston, of New Jersey, remarks, "I have often had occasion to observe there is more of ceremony than of compliment in America," a discriminating view of the manners of that time. At Philadelphia, the Marquis notes his intercourse with Reed, whose correspondence with Washington so fully illustrates the anxious perplexities of that immaculate patriot's life during the war; he speaks of a visit to Dr. Franklin's daughter, Mrs. Bache, whom he found "simple in her manners, like her respectable father, and possessed of kindred benevolence of disposition;" Robert Morris he describes as a "large man, very simple in his manners, but his mind is subtile and acute; his head is perfectly well organized, and he is as well versed in public affairs as in his own; a zealous republican and an Epicurean philosopher, he has always played a distinguished part at table and in business." He enjoyed interviews with Rittenhouse and Tom Paine, and had a talk on government with Samuel Adams. Nothing can be imagined more opposite than the social code of a Frenchman and a Quaker, the one having such excessive faith in manner and dealing so fluently in verbal courtesies, and the other repudiating both as inimical to spiritual integrity. Yet there is no trait of the American character, as then exhibited, which won more sincere admiration from this soldier and nobleman than its simplicity; it is the constant theme of his eulogy; but this beautiful quality did not strike him as spontaneous and candid in the Quakers whom he met in the city of brotherly love: "The law," he writes, "observed by this sect, of neither using you nor sir, is far from giving them a tone of simplicity and candor; they in general assume a smooth and whee dling tone, which is altogether jesuitical." Philadelphia, it would appear from the experience of the Marquis, was as famous then as now for its market and household comfort; for he expresses a fear lest the "pleasures of Capua should

make him forget the campaigns of Hannibal;" be therefore determines to leave the luxury of the city, and explore the recent battle fields of Germantown and Brandywine.

The public beneficence of Philadelphia, as indicated by the endowment of hospitals and corrective institutions, had already become a marked feature; but the Marquis comments on a defect, soon after remedied—the absence of a public walk. Milton, Addison, and Richardson he found the authors chiefly read by the young women; and so universal was the interest in and knowledge of civic affairs, that he declares that "all American conversation must finish with politics." His winter journey to Saratoga was a formidable undertaking, or would have been to a gentleman unfamiliar with the hardy discipline of the camp; its principal episodes of interest were the view of Cohoes Falls, and a visit to General Schuyler, just after the marriage of his daughter with Hamilton; he inspected some interesting documents revealing the actual condition of Canada, and expatiates on the novel excitement and exposure of what he calls a "sledge ride." With the present byway scenery of the railroad which intersects the central part of New York State, it is instructive to read his account of that region, through which, by slow stages, he penetrated from town to fort and through a snow-shrouded wilderness. "The country," he tells us, "which lies between Albany and Schenectady, is nothing but an immense forest of pine trees, untouched by the hatchet. They are lofty and robust; and, as nothing grows in their shade, a line of cavalry might traverse the wood without breaking their line or defiling." Schenectady contained then but five hundred houses "within the palisades ;" diverging from his road, he visited a Mohawk settlement, a few straggling descendants of which tribe the traveller of to-day still encounters, in that vicinity, among the peddling habitués of the railway cars. He also saw, on the way to Fort Edward, the house formerly the home of the unfortunate Jane McRea; startled a bevy of quails, and, at a wayside inn, saw a girl "whom Greuze would have been happy to have taken as a model;" while, on his