mothers and wives. The chairs are leather-covered, with high backs; and two chairs covered with "blue damask trimmed with silver lace" are very carefully kept, because they are too nice to be used, except on extra occasions. In the living-room you will find stores of shining pewter-ware, with some silver, and some delft earthenware, all set up for show in closets with glass doors. These are very comfortable homes, and pleasant, are they not?

In the street again, we find that the city is full of trees, which make a cool shade. The locust-tree prevails, with its fragrant white blossoms, and the birds are singing gayly in the branches. At night, the frogs croak loudly, because there are many large swamps which are full of frogs. There are a great many wells in the city, but the water is bad; therefore the people bring most of their water from "Fresh-water Pond," out in the country, a mile or more from the Battery. You very often meet a water-cart, selling water for a penny a gallon, at the doors of the houses.

There are not many private carriages yet used, but we can get an "Italian chaise," a comfortable vehicle with two wheels, and drive out of town. We go past the fine church with a tall steeple called "Trinity," and past King's College, which is a grand new college just built. It is a very short drive before we are in the broad open country, with cows and sheep feeding all about. At night, the herdsman comes, blows his horn loudly, and all the cattle follow him back through the streets of the town, and he leaves them each at the owner's door till the next morning. When we have driven far enough, we can go back through the side streets, which are filled with children on their way from school. Although this is an English town, you hear almost as much Dutch spoken as English. The children's names, too, Peter Ryckman, Catharina Vandam, Hans Jacobs, Anthony Jansen, these are not like the names you hear in Boston. There are English names, too, of course, because for many years the English have been peopling New York, and the names of Livingston, Jay, and Murray are heard among those of Holland extraction. The names of the streets, however, are largely Dutch, and you can almost read the history of the town in the names at its street corners. The houses of the rich English residents and those of the wealthier Dutch, have stately mahogany furniture, and stores of silver and china, while their dress is even more gorgeous than in the Puritan cities.

You can see plainly, however, that the earliest settlers of this

growing metropolis have impressed their characteristics strongly upon it. Even in their amusements and occupations you see this. Their chief summer recreation is in forming sailing parties up the Hudson, where they go to eat turtle-soup, which is made in great perfection there. They have no Thanksgiving Day, but "New Year's" they keep with great festivities, and the custom of making New Year's calls and presents is celebrated most gayly among the Hollanders.

Oysters have never before been known so plentiful and cheap as in New York. They are largely used by the poorest classes, because they are so cheap. Truly, this city seems a goodly one to dwell in, does it not? We feel quite sure it will be one day a large city.

Albany, up the Hudson, is also growing rapidly, and even more than New York is like a town in Holland. But we cannot stop to visit it now. We must go on to Philadelphia. We shall go by stage-coach through New Jersey, traveling over a pleasant country dotted with farms, very green and fertile. Many of the old Swedish settlements remain, and their comfortable stone farm-houses are seen, overtopped by the large barns and granaries. Orchards of peaches and cherries border the road. We can climb the fences anywhere and help ourselves to fruit. The owner will find no fault. Everything is abundant in this new country, and there are not travelers enough to make trespass laws necessary.

Three days' journey brings us to Philadelphia, and we will go to the London Coffee House on High Street and get breakfast. The streets are not crooked here, as in Boston. William Penn was very careful about the appearance of his new city, and it was laid out in broad squares, with streets crossing each other at right angles. When the city was first built, they chopped down trees to mark where a street was to be cut through. Sometimes it was a walnuttree, sometimes a chestnut. "Penn's woods" bore a great variety of trees. So the streets were called "Chestnut," "Walnut," "Elm," after the stumps which had marked them, and Philadelphia streets continue to be named for trees, just as those in New York are named for its early settlers.

Of all the cities of the New World, I think Philadelphia is the handsomest. The people, too, how differently they look. There are a few dressed in the bright colors which are the fashion, but most wear the quiet Quaker colors, drab, pearl grays, and delicate brown. The women, like Jenny Wren, wear plain brown or drab

gowns, " and never go too fine." With their large bonnets, which shade their eyes, and keep their faces smooth and unwrinkled, they look very sweet and peaceful. The white muslin crossed over their breasts is like drifted snow. The men, with broad hats and long drab coats, look much as William Penn did eighty years ago.

The houses, like the owners, are substantial, but quiet and unpretending. There are many brick houses, for this colony is rich in clay, and they began very early to practice brick-making.

The state-house in Philadelphia is an imposing brick building, and the citizens are very proud of it. A great bell, the largest bell in all the country, has just been put up in the steeple of the state-house, whose grand peal is soon to announce to the world. that the Americans have declared their independence from the rule of Great Britain.

Before we leave Philadelphia, I want to tell you about one of the most remarkable men who was ever born in America, and give you some idea of his character and good works. This man is Benjamin Franklin. He was born in Boston, but when only a youth he came to Philadelphia to make it his home. When he first landed there his pocket contained a dollar and a few cents, his only capital. Not his only capital either, for he had beside that his head and hands, and a thorough knowledge of the printer's trade. You have heard, doubtless, how he bought three large rolls at the baker's, and walked up the city streets, eating one of them, while he carried the others, one under each arm.

He went to work at once setting type in a printer's office, and in a year went to England, from whence he returned to Philadelphia, to edit a newspaper of his own. He was never so busy with his own affairs that he could not interest himself in those of others. He started a debating society for the discussion of all the topics of the day, in which he induced other young men to take part. He organized a public library. He originated the plan for the University of Pennsylvania, now a flourishing institution. Everywhere the town shows some monument of his intellect and practical energy. Nothing is too high, or too low, to interest this great man. He has made experiments to prove that lightning and electricity are the same forces, and has just invented the lightning rod, to diminish the dangers of accident. He has also introduced a welcome inmate into the parlors of Philadelphia a new stove, called the "Franklin," the best heater yet in use. From lightning-rods and stoves, humble