CHAPTER II.

CITIES, TOWNS, AND VILLAGES.

As the place where I first landed in America was New York, I shall begin by giving some account of that city. Standing like Constantinople on a point of land, it is nearly encompassed by water, and appears at a little distance as if afloat. Ships of the largest burden can approach it at all times of the year, and obtain secure anchorage in its harbour. It unites the advantages of a port on the sea-board, with those of a port like London or Hamburg, without the delays incident to a long river navigation. So important is this felt to be, that it is common for persons from Baltimore, Philadelphia, Montreal and Quebec to come to New York to take ship for Europe. That fine river the Hudson, after running longitudinally for upwards of three hundred miles, empties itself into New York bay. By means of canals now in progress, the city will soon be able to transport its merchandise into the western regions as well as the northern. Lakes Erie, Ontario, and Champlain will directly communicate with it, and contribute to its pros

perity. On the whole continent of North America, New Orleans is the only one rivalling it in commercial advantages; and from the insalubrity of its climate, that city will not probably, for centuries to come, equal New York in population, enterprise, and capital. New York, like Liverpool, Petersburg, and Calcutta, has risen into eminence in a comparatively short period. It is still increasing in magnitude and importance, and will continue to do so for a long time to come; but the idea which the Americans entertain, that in another century it will equal London needs only to be mentioned to show its absurdity; yet this idea is not confined to the vulgar; a gentleman, formerly a member of congress, and of high reputation for talents and learning, gravely insisted when in conversation with me on its probability! The reader will probably commend my judgment for not attempting to argue the point with him: it seemed to be so much a favourite with him, that his happiness might have been diminished by breaking the illusion.

New York viewed from a distance at which the eye can take in its full length, from Hoboken for instance, or the heights of Brooklyn, has the air of a metropolis. The long line of shipping before the wharfs, the numerous lofty

ones.

spires and turrets, the steam-boats incessantly moving; all these manifest it to be a place of yast importance. A walk through it, however, dissipates much of the idea of grandeur excited by a distant view. With the exception of Broadway, Hudson Street, and Greenwich Street, there are few streets deserving particular notice. Most of the steeples are of wood, appearing mean to those accustomed to the sight of stone Of the public buildings, the City Hall and St. Paul's church, are the only two of tasteful architecture. The Catholic cathedral is large but not beautiful. There is no exchange for the merchants, and the shops are less splendid than the size of the city would lead one to expect. But when the feelings of disappointment have subsided, and the pedestrian knows what to regard, he may find enough to gratify. Broadway extends the whole length of the city, dividing it into two nearly equal parts. It is wide, and in several parts planted with trees. houses are built of red brick, and are lofty and spacious. Several churches are placed in it, and others are within view; and the City Hall, an elegant marble structure on a stone basement, with an open space before it surrounded by iron railing, breaks the uniformity of the ranges of houses, and adds to the general beauty.

The

The Battery-walk at its lower extremity overlooking the bay, is an agreeable promenade. Hudson and Greenwich Streets are handsome, though of the latter, part only is entitled to that epithet. The markets are commodious and well supplied. The upper part of the city consists principally of wooden houses, the further erection of which ought to be prohibited, on account of their danger, especially as other building materials are abundant.

The streets are not so cleanly swept as they should be; the reason for which is, that it is left to each housekeeper to sweep before his own door, instead of sweepers being appointed by the corporation. Pigs are suffered to run at large, a thing of which many of the inhabitants are ashamed, but which the greater part contend for as contributory to the healthiness of the city! The animal and vegetable matter thrown into the streets would, it is contended, putrify and taint the air, were it not for the pigs. But what a beastly idea is it, that the people are so lazy or dirty, as to use pigs for scavengers! The corporation have, however, issued ordinances against this nuisance. Why, then, it may be inquired, is it suffered to remain? I reply, because the enforcement of the ordinances would

endanger the popularity of the members of the corporation, and the security of their seats. No city in America is, I suppose, under more mob influence than New York. Pigs ought not to be allowed to be kept even in a yard within the boundary of a city. Private gain must yield to the public good; and what can more conduce to the general comfort than the removal, as far as practicable, of all those unpleasant smells which render the atmosphere of cities unwholesome? The prohibition to keep pigs in London and Bristol is approved by the inhabitants at large.

Boston is built on a peninsula, which t most entirely covers, and extends along the isthmus to the main land. It has a fine harbour; but from its want of imand navigation is vastly inferior to New York n situation. Its trade to India, South America, and the West Indies, is great, some of the greatest capitalists in the country being established there. In general appearance, Boston is more like an English town than most in America. It does not seem so newly built as New York, Philadelphia, or Baltimore, the streets being more varied in their size and shape, some being crooked and narrow, others straight and wide. The principal private