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speech; its effect, like an electric shock, flew through the lines, and held each heart in fond delusion. Not a word was uttered for several minutes! till, “did you see that?" whispered one to the other, whilst every cheek was wet! The music was ravishing, the masons looked divine, and the Knights Templar like supernatural beings! The whole was not only grand, it was sublime! but our language is too poor for such occasions. The procession was about an hour and a half passing through the street, and supposed to consist of eighty thousand persons, while we were favored throughout with one of the most brilliant suns.

Although Boston is behind New-York in trade and business, it has one advantage, which renders the city much more pleasant in summer than the latter, whatever it may be in the winter, that is its lofty elms, and spreading horse-chesnuts, the streets being mostly shaded with full grown trees, nor do the high houses look so terrifying when one gets used to them, but more especially with those who inhabit them. Nothing hinders Boston from being as large as New-York or Philadelphia, but want of room. The whole of the peninsula is built on to the water's edge, and even into the bay. Were it not that it is hemmed in by the bay and Charles river, Charleston, Cambridge, Watertown, and South-Boston would make a part of the city. Roxbury does join it; the houses extending quite through the neck. It is kept fully as neat as Philadelphia, (though some of the streets and side-walks are badly paved,) and the houses, kitchens, and back yards are exquisitely neat. The city is distinguished by the "north end, south end, West-Boston, and the wharves." Copp's hill, famous in history, is in the north end; the Mall is in the south end.

I ought to have noticed the churches and fortifications. in the topographical description: the churches are remarkable for nothing but their great size and their high steeples. The harbour is defended by nature, the entrance to it being so narrow as not to admit of more than two ships a-breast. Fort Warren stands on one side of it, and Fort Independence on the other. The latter, for

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strength, may defy the world, the walls are of such thickness that no power on earth would be able, from the water, to penetrate them. It sits on an island, as does Fort Warren, and makes a fine show from the city. In fact, the whole bay is diversified with islands of singular beauty. By the way, Uncle Sam is very shabbily represented in this part of his dominions: the commandant of Fort Independence was not at his post, and his deputy, a Major something, (I never inquired his name,) gave me a most ungentlemanly reception, and, had it not been for the interference of a Dr. M. (the only gentleman on the place,) I believe in my heart, this man of war would have opened the battery upon me. He seemed to view my visit with evident signs of mistrust, and took me, no doubt, for a spy, although I had a letter stating my business. Seriously, the marines and the whole pack of them, (except the Dr.) were the most scurvy set I met with in my travels. It is time those military despots, those young Cesars, were nipped in the bud. They are designed to protect, instead of insulting peaceable citizens. I find that the farther they are from the government the more assuming they become. The very females of the place, (they could not be ladies) stood in the doors and in the yard, gaping at me, as though I had been an Ourang-outang, without speaking a word, or shewing the least mark of civility. A great falling off, indeed, after having been honoured, in the most exemplary manner, by all the officers of the Naval and War Departments throughout the Union! Thus these upstarts bring disgrace upon the government. A gentleman will always treat every one civilly, at least, for his own sake.

But to return: Boston has improved rapidly since it became a city. The Mill-dam, mentioned with the bridges, is a stupendous structure of human industry and enterprise: it is built across the bay, nearly two miles in length, at an expense of $500,000! The object was to open an avenue, and create water power, to put in operation an extensive establishment of tide-mills, and other waterworks: a great part of the design has been completed. The Exchange Coffee-house, a recent

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building, covers over an acre of ground; and we may reasonably suppose that the land recently recovered from the bay (at an expense incalculable) will soon be crowned with tasteful buildings. Its resources, both in capital and talents, in proportion to its population, are comparatively very great. In short, for refinement, taste, hospitality, and scenery, Boston is the garden spot of the Union.

It will be recollected, that Doctor Franklin was a native of Boston: almost the first object of my curiosity, after my arrival in the city, was to enquire for the spot where his parents resided; but to my great surprise, his family was scarcely recollected! After much enquiry and heart-rending researches, I discovered the place where the house once stood to be opposite the Old South church, in Milk street, though the place was occupied by another building.

The revenue of Boston port custom-house, will be found at the end of the book. It contains about 58,000 inhabitants.

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Quincy. During my visit to Boston, I frequently rode out in the country, if country it may be called, which is covered with towns and villages. In one of these excursions, I paid my respects to the Ex-President Adams, of Quincy. Quincy lies south of Boston about eight miles. Mr. A. does not live exactly in the town, but a little to the right, about two hundred yards from the road, on this side of Quincy. He lives on a farm which is kept in fine order, and fitted out with barns, stables, and carriage houses. My heart beat high as I knocked at his door, which was opened by a servant. I told her I wished to see Mr. Adams, if he was not too much indisposed, (having heard he had been unwell.) "Which Mr. Adams do you wish to see," she replied, "the "she Judge or the President." "The President," I answered. She withdrew, and in a few minutes a most enchanting female entered the parlour. I handed her my address, and desired her to present it to the President,

* The President's Son.

She returned in a moment and asked me to walk up stairs. I followed her, and took the precedence in entering the chamber of this venerable Patriarch. I found the dear old man sitting up, before the fire. He would have arose, but I flew forward to prevent him. He pressed my hand with ardour and inquired after my health.

We conversed upon general subjects relating to Alabama, the state I was from, such as its trade, navigation, and productions of the soil, &c. In answer to several inquiries relative to himself, he replied, "that he was then, (April, 1825,) eighty-nine years and six months old; a monstrous time," he added" for one human being to support." He could walk about the room, he said, and even down stairs, though he was at that time very feeble. His teeth were entirely gone, and his eye sight very much impaired; he could just see the window, he said, and the weather vane that stood before it, but retained his hearing perfectly. His face did not bear the marks of age in proportion to his years; nor did he show the marks of decay in his appearance, with the exception of his teeth, and his legs, which were evidently much reduced. He had a slight obstruction in his breathing, from having recently taken cold, and his tongue seemed to perform its office with abridged vigour. He coughed a little, but said he was free from pain. He was dressed in a green camblet morning gown, and his head uncovered, except his venerable locks, which were perfectly white. He appeared as he sat in his chair to be about the size of his son, the present president of the United States, and his features bore a striking resemblance to the portraits and busts I had often seen of him. The most child-like simplicity and goodness appeared in the sun-shine of his countenance, which, while speaking, or listening, became extremely animated but when left to itself, subsided into an unclouded serenity. When I mentioned his son, (the president,) and Mrs. A. the tear glittered in his eye; he attempted to reply, but was overcome with emotion. Finding the subject too tender, I changed it as quick as possible. Mr. Adams is represented to have been

A a patron of merit and genius, and amongst the most charitable men of the age. His mansion is a large venerable frame building, built as he told me about thirtysix years ago. It is large for a country house, consisting of three apartments, of equal size below stairs, with a gallery leading to the staircase. One of these is a common room, into which strangers are first introduced. In passing to the next room, you turn suddenly to the right, and crossing the gallery enter a parlor, the furniture of which resembled a female Quaker's dress, rich but simple. The chairs were furnished with deep satin cushions; elegant sofas and carpets completed the furniture. From this in the same direction you enter the third apartment, which contains the family portraits. The portrait of Mr. Adams and his lady when they were young, likewise his daughter and John Quincy. The latter had very little resemblance to the original at this day, but as much like George Washington, his son, as if it had been taken for him. Besides Mrs. Smith, the lady already mentioned, who is a niece of the good ex-president, another niece lives with him; they are both widows! It was, truly interesting to see the tender, affectionate attention these ladies paid to the venerable old man; hi shappiness and comfort engrossed all their care, whilst peace and resignation sat on his brow. Like a calm evening sun, he is imperceptibly gliding to lighten other worlds! His house faces Quincy, looking to the south, and commands a full view of that village. After partaking of a repast, without which no one is permitted to depart from his house, I walked over the village; it is the most delightful spot in Massachusetts. A bold transparent stream runs purling along through the midst of it; it is likewise adorned with lofty elms, grass plats and gardens of inexpressible = beauty.

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This part of Massachusetts, and the whole way that leads to it from Boston, is one uniform representation of matchless beauty; superb country seats, intermixed with groves and gardens, relieved by luxuriant meadows, with the same stream which waters Quincy, winding its way

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