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high back; upon which was mounted the British crown, supported by two cherubins. This chair of state is carefully placed under the portrait of their father which with another portrait of his nephew, (executed by himself and sent to the ladies from England,) constitutes the remaining furniture of the parlor. The other part of the house I did not see; it had a small back room, and an upper story where I suspect the other sister had retired. Miss Byles appeared to be about 75 years of age, was thin visaged and wrinkled, very distant in her manners, which were by no means affable or refined. She seemed averse to conversation, and appeared to wish me away. I drew a few sentences from her, the amount of which went to show that she was a warm lover of the British crown and government, and that she despised the country she was in; she said "the Americans had her father, herself, and her sister up, in the time of the revolutionary war, treated them ill, imprisoned her father, and suspended him from preaching, came very near sending the whole of them off to England, just because her father prayed for the king." But she said they were very kind to her and her sister now, that she wanted for nothing, though she complained bitterly against some body, she did not know who it was that had knocked the bark off one of their trees: it was poor spite she said. I saw a few inches of the bark rubbed off, which was doubtless an accident.

Matthew Byles was born in the colony and educated at Cambridge. He was (says the writer of those times,) a scholar, eloquent and accomplished. A gentleman of humer, but sided with the royalists in the time of the war, and had the Americans not placed a guard at his door the populace would have torn him to pieces. The following anecdote was related of him when a young man. "The captain of a vessel, a friend of his, about to set sail, proposed to Byles to go with him as Chaplain; the parson, on some account, was obliged to refuse the office, and told the captain it was out of his power. His friend dropped the subject of chaplain, but insisted upon Byles' spending the evening with him on board the ship; that a number of his friends would be there, and they would

take a parting glass together at least. Byles accepted the invitation, and waited on the captain, who, while they were all making merry, set sail, having given secret instructions to that amount, previous to the arrival of the parson, and they were a considerable distance from land before Byles discovered the cheat. He making a virtue of necessity passed it off in good humor, and no chaplain being aboard, he was forced to act. But when they came to examine, no psalm book could be found. The captain being a man of humor, and withal clothed with a little power, proposed to Byles, of whose poetic talents he was apprised, to compose a psalm for the occasion. Byles submitted with a good grace, and composed a psalm peculiar to himself and to the occasion. I have seen the psalm; it contains some of the finest strokes of wit and humour to be found. But Mr. Green, of Boston, who possessed more good nature, and an equal share of wit with Byles, paraphrased the psalm. This called up a spirited answer from Byles: which was again replied. to by Green; and thus they continued to write poetry against each other to the great amusement of the citizens. Riding in the country one day, he saw a man making a rail fence some distance from the road, he turned out of his way to address him with "will you never leave off railing, can't you live without a fence."


Whilst speaking of literary characters, I cannot help adding a brief notice of Miss Hannah Adams, the glory of New-England females. She is the authoress of ral valuable works, which have long been before the public, viz. "The History of the Jews," "The History of New England," and "Letters on the Gospel." These works are said to be ably written, and bespeak her a woman of piety and learning. I have seen these works since my visit to New-England, but being unqualified to judge of their merit, I speak of their general character. Miss Adams lives in Boston. She is about seventy years of age, of low stature, and slightly inclined to corpulency: she is declining in health, though very cheerful, and walks a good deal in fine weather: her hair is perfectly white, her complexion is fair, her face round, her features regular and very delicate, her eyes a dark hazel,

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(what may be called black,) very small, but soft and intelligent; her teeth are decayed, and disfigure her very much; she lisps in speaking, but has a sweet melodious voice. Her countenance is animated, and the most pleasing I ever witnessed in a person of her age, her face being constantly lighted up with a smile. But the leading trait in her countenance is innocence; the infant at the breast is not more so. Her manners are easy and natural, without one spark of pride or affectation: in short, she possesses a dignified simplicity, with a great share of good nature, which is visible in her whole deportment. I was often in her company, and found her uniformly the same. She informed me that she was upwards of three years in compiling her Jewish History, and that at one time she must have had as many books before her, as would have filled the room we were in. She is a distant relation to the president of the United States. Mrs. Morton, lady of the Lieut. Governor, is also a distinguished writer.

It has already been observed, that the human mind has been thoroughly developed in Boston. This city has made bold advances in the fine arts, in belles-lettres, and in mathematics, philosophy, poetry, theology, and in law, Boston also holds the first rank in our cities. Among the most eminent of her citizens for learning and high literary attainments, may be esteemed the present editor of the North-American Review, the Rev. Jared Sparks, late pastor of the Unitarian congregation in Baltimore. Mr. S. is about 30 years of age, he may be age,-he something over-rather above the common height, neither spare nor robust, and well formed. His complexion is wan, his hair is deep black, his eyes a dark gray, full, calm, and steady. His face is round and features regular. His countenance is contemplative, serene, and as meek as Moses: so gentle, so spotless, he is the admiration of all who know him. As a scholar, and a gentleman, he may possibly have an equal, but in diffidence, charity, and benevolence, he stands alone.

There are many literary men in Boston, of whom I only saw one more, the Rev. Mr. Pierpont: he is said to be a writer of some eminence, both in poetry and

prose. He is an amiable man, of good stature, and ele gant manners. The poet Percival lives in the city, but I had not the good fortune to see him.


The citizens of Boston are at present engaged in mak ing great improvements in the city. They are reclaiming the land from the water, and have succeeded to an astonishing degree, having realized about 70 acres of made land where the mill-pond formerly flowed. They are likewise pulling down houses, widening the streets, and erecting large and durable buildings. The town is chiefly built of brick, though there are many elegant free-stone buildings, which, for beauty and size, excel any private buildings in the United States. These stand mostly on Mount Vernon, Beacon-street, and the Colonade. The buildings in the Colonade are truly magnificent, having a colonade running in front of them, the whole length of the street; these are not only large, but the workmanship surpasses any thing of the sort and here we have not only marble fronts but marble houses. D. Sears, Esq. lives in one of these, which for beauty and splendor, sets description at defiance, and is only exceeded by its princely owner. The Appletons are likewise with Mr. S. in Beacon-street, and like him live in princely style. But the exterior of the houses is nothing compared with the costly furniture within them; plate, China ware, mahogany, the finest cut glass, and rich carpeting, are paltry things with them; their houses are adorned with nymphs, Naiads, shepherds, cupids and goddesses, of the finest alabaster; portraits, the finest paintings, and the choicest books, settees and chairs: damask curtains, of the richest fashion; every room is filled with the "softly speaking marble;" these beautiful images meet you wherever you turn they are standing in niches on the stair-cases and up-stairs, as well as below. The marble assuming every shape and every grace: here you see a nymph stretched on a couch, there a Naiad standing with a gilded cup in her hand, and a third in the act of dancing. I was particularly struck with a bowl, upon the edge of which sat two of the sweetest looking doves; one was in the act of drinking out of the bowl, the other had its head turned, look

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ing behind it ;-the whole of unequalled polish, and rivalling the snow in whiteness. Another interesting object was a female figure sleeping upon the skin of a lion. The eskin of the head, with the rough mane, the eyes, and even the eye-lash, was nature itself. Another object of interest was a model of the temple of Neptune, which is in a mouldering state, great part of it having tumbled down; those parts were substituted with pieces of cork, and the whole enveloped with moss. The main frame of the edifice was nothing but a low, square frame, open at the top, the whole representing every vestige of a structure in ruins.

In Boston I was also gratified by seeing a portrait of the renowned Walter Scott, but it was by no means striking; if the likeness was a true one, there is no truth in countenance, as his was the most vacant imaginable, without one spark of genius perceptible. It could not be his, being distinguished by nothing but a simple blue eye and a most unmeaning smile.

One might spend a year amongst these people, and still find something new. Many of the ladies have visited France and Italy, from which they have culled the choicest specimens of the fine arts, particularly from the latter. Garlands, flowers, fruit, in the finest alabaster, embodying every grace of form and ingenuity, to a degree beyond the power of the most luxuriant fancy to conceive. New-York certainly does more business, but for men of solid wealth, refinement and taste, Boston is the nonpareil.

Whilst on my visit to Alexandria, I happened in company with a travelling lady, and speaking of the Atlantic cities, she observed, that "if she was compelled to live in the United States, (being a foreigner,) she would give Boston the preference, on account of the taste and refinement, and above all, the hospitality of the citizens." This shook my prejudice a little, but still I had no intention of visiting Boston, until I went to Albany, where the account of the lady was confirmed, to my satisfaction; I therefore resolved to see Boston. On my way thither I fell in with two of the citizens, whose manners and conversation effectually dislodged the prejudice I had imbib

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