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and accosted him—Where are you from?-When did you arrive?-Any thing new in York?-What is your name?-Any thing special?'-And he has scarcely got into the Albany stage, certainly not out of the city, when he is assailed in the very same manner. Our traveller is no sooner pumped dry, than his unwearied inquisitor turns to the next man, and nothing can be more divertingly characteristic than the following dialogue which passes between them. It is by no means necessary in America to advertize for agreeable companions in a post-chaise.'
Q. Where are you going, middle on ?—A. Yes.
Q. Do you keep at Boston?-A. No.
Q. Where do you keep?—A. Fairfield.
Q. Have you been a lengthy time in Boston, e'h, say?A. Seven days.
Q. Where did you sleep last night?-A.
Q. What number?-A. Seven.
Q. That is Thomas Adonis - -'s house?—A. No; it is my son's.
Q. Did she die slick right away?-A. No; not by any manner of
Q. How long have you been married;-A. Thirty years, I guess.
Q. What age were you when you were married?-A. I guess mighty near thirty-three.
Q. If you were young again I guess you would marry earlier? A. No; I guess thirty-three is a mighty grand age for marrying. Q. How old is your daughter?-A. Twenty-five.
Q. I guess she would like a husband?-A. No; she is mighty care
less about that.
Q. She is not awful (ugly), I guess?-A. No, I guess she is not.
Q. Is she sick?-4. Yes.
Q. What is her sickness? A. Consumption.
Q. I had an item of that. You have got a doctor, I guess?—A. Guess I have.
Q. Is your son a trader?—A. Yes.
Q. Is he his own boss?-A. Yes.
Q. Are his spirits kedge (brisk)?—A. Yes; I expect they were yesterday.
Q. How did he get in business?-A. I planted him there. I was his sponsor for a thousand dallars. I guess he paid me within time; and he is now progressing slick.'-p. 123.
The Fourth Report introduces us to Philadelphia, of which it offers but a meagre account. Mr. Fearon says his first impressions of this city were decidedly favourable-it gave him ideas of a substantial cast; its character being essentially different from that of New York it has not so much business, not so much gaiety,
not so much life.' Mr. Fearon took up his lodging at a boarding house; and here he soon made what he calls an unpleasant discovery'-' an affectation of splendour, or what may be called style, in those things which are intended to meet the public eye; with a lamentable want even of cleanliness in such matters as are removed from that ordeal.' And he gives an instance of that appearance of uncomfortable extravagance' at a'genteel
5 private house' where he drank tea. The furniture was splendid,
· the table profusely supplied, the bread and butter was roughly cut in huge hunks piled zig-zag. The children’s faces were dirty, their hair uncombed, their dispositions evidently untaught, and all the members of the family, from the boy of ten years of age, up to the owner (I was going to say master) of the house, appeared independent of each other.'-(p. 138.) All this is lamentable to be told; but as the people are not so offensively religious as at Boston, Mr. Fearon tempers his impatience, and continues to drink tea with the inhabitants, in spite of the bad taste in which they cut their bread and butter.
The extremes of heat and cold characterize the climate of Phi. ladelphia, and its effects (aggravated probably by other causes, such as the general use of close stoves, on the part of the females, and the excessive abuse of spirituous liquors and tobacco on that of the males) are visible in the appearance of the inhabitants.
* A Philadelphian (particularly a female) is as old at 27 as a Londoner at 40. Neither sex possesses the English standard of healthrosy cheek. The young females indeed are genteel; but their colour is produced by art, but for which disgusting practice, many of them might pass for beautiful. You will be surprised to hear, that in the practice of rougeing, the junior branches of the society of Friends are not at all deficient? Englishmen are said to improve in appearance for the first 12 months of their residence, but after that time the face becomes sallow and flabby,
The gentlemen in their dress ape the fashions of England ; the ladies those of France; both of whom modestly declare that they combine the excellencies of the French and English charac-ter, without possessing the defects of either :'--but, adds our author,for myself I can trace no resemblance to the former, unless it lie in kid gloves, and artificial flowers ; nor to the latter, except in a fondness for Lady Morgan's writings, and an admiration of Lord Wellington's achievements.'—We would fain persuade ourselves that Mr. Fearon is as much mistaken in the literary taste of the ladies of America, as he certainly is in that of his fair countrywomen, whom he grossly libels in representing them fond of the writings of Lady Morgan. We have reason to kuow that from Ida of Athens, the first (we believe) of her
strous progeny, to that last sooterkin of dullness and immorality Florence Macarthy, they view them all with equal disgust. If this woman has any readers, they are not among the ladies of England. Be this, however, as it may, we must positively attempt to rescue the American fair from the sarcastic sneer of Mr. Fearon on their rejoicing in the victory of Waterloo.—That victory gave repose to the world, and, with Mr. Fearon's leave, was not gained over their own countrymen. We have yet to learn therefore why the ladies of America may not take an interest in the heroic achievements of a Wellington, quite as decorously as Mr. Fearon in the capture of an English frigate, and in the exploits of the celebrated Commodore Rogers!'
Mr. Fearon reached Philadelphia at a busy moment. The election of a governor for the state of Pennsylvania was about to commence, and our traveller was 'fortunate enough (he says) to have letters of introduction to the leading man of one of the great political parties which divide the state, and which afforded him an opportunity of witnessing all the novel machinery then in such active operation.'—p. 138. After the election, he sat down to take, what he calls, a calm review of the whole, for the information of his friends. Any thing more loathsome than this highly interesting scene' cannot well be imagined. It is all bruise and wound and putrifying sore. The addresses of the different par
. ties exceed in vulgarity and senseless abuse all that ever emanated from the Borough or Covent Garden. Corruption is neither concealed, nor sought to be concealed. "Few, if any,' Mr. Fearon says, cared ove straw about principle, but all were eager and intent upon betting.'-A sample follows. ““I'll bet you fifty on Hiester in Chesnut ward.”
“What majority will you give him?" “ One-fourth.” “ Give old Sour Kraut a hundred and thirty, and I'll take you.”' " Done." " What will you give Finlay in Lower Delaware ward?" “ One hundred.” “Give Bill three and half, and I'll take you for five hundred."
No; I'll give him three and half for a pair of boots.” “ 'Guess I'll take you for a pair and a hat.” “ What for Dock ward?". “ I won't bet on Dock: they're all a set of d-d Tories." “Will you give Joe four hundred in South Mulberry?" “I'won't take Joe, I guess, in that ward ?" “What will you give Billy in South Mulberry?" “A couple of hundred.” “ Done for five hundred."
"All. What majority upon the whole election, friend, will you advise us to give?"
"Fr. You must be cautious in your majorities. We do not know how Beaver and Dauphin may turn out.-Mind! save yourselves.—If you find Billy going down, take up Sour Kraut."-p. 141, 142. ́
What our readers will think of this we know not, but Mr. Fearon, who sought (as he says) to obtain an insight into the character and mind of this people, by observing how they acted in their political capacity, is not afraid to intimate that there is much to lament in it. True it is that he instantly qualifies his temerity by a palliative which never occurred to him in Englandnamely, that we should recollect, after all, that in the political as in the natural world, we must endure evils in order to insure a preponderance of good.'-p. 149. Certainly, it must be a traveller's own fault, if he visits America without improvement.
From the triumph of political purity,' Mr. Fearon instantly proceeds, with a master boot-maker, to witness that of 'personal liberty,' the deplorable want of which in England troubled his conscience and drove him to seek peace for it beyond the Atlantic. The brig Bubona had just arrived at Philadelphia, from the Texel with a cargo of those deluded wretches known by the name of redemptioners-i. e. Europeans who sell themselves to the captain of an American ship, to procure a passage to the land of liberty, and, on their arrival in it, are immediately sold again for the profit of their worthy conductor, and his no less worthy employers. Mr. Fearon explains the term with some what more tenderness. A redemptioner,' he says, 'is a European who emigrates without money, and pays for his passage by binding himself to the captain, who receives the produce of his labour for a certain number of years.' The meaning, as Sir Hugh observes, is just the same, save and except that the phrase is a hittle variations.
'As we ascended (Mr. Fearon says) the side of this hulk, a most revolting scene of want and misery presented itself. The eye involuntarily turned for some relief from the horrible picture of human suffering, which this living sepulchre afforded. Mr. inquired if there were any shoe-makers on board. The captain advanced : his appearance bespoke his office; he is an American, tall, determined, and with an eye that flashes with Algerine cruelty. He called in the Dutch language for shoe-makers, and never can I forget the scene which followed. The poor fellows came running up with unspeakable delight, no doubt anticipating a relief from their loathsome dungeon. Their clothes, if rags deserve that denomination, actually perfumed the air. Some were without shirts, others had this article of dress, but of a quality as coarse as the worst packing cloth. I inquired of several if they could spes English. They smiled, and gabbled, "No Engly, no Engly,—one
VOL. XXI. NO. XLI.
gly talk ship." The deck was filthy. The cooking, washing, and necessary departments were close together. Such is the mercenary barbarity of the Americans who are engaged in this trade, that they crammed into one of those vessels, 500 passengers, 80 of whom died on the passage.'-p. 150.
Mr. Fearon's statement as to the number of these unfortunate creatures taken into one ship would seem to be far beneath the truth. It was asserted in Congress, that in one instance, a single vessel had taken on board 1287 passengers; that 400 of them had died before she got out of the North Sea, and 300 more previously to her arrival at Philadelphia; and that many of the remainder shortly afterwards died of fever and debility: finally, that of 5000 persons who had embarked at Antwerp in the course of the year 1817, one fifth had died on the passage. This infamous traffic is confined, exclusively, to American vessels.
But Mr. Fearon never retains his anger long against these exquisite upholders of equal rights. He turns, in the very next sentence, to the illustrious house of Orange,' and accuses it of being the fons et origo of the whole evil. From my heart,' he says, 'I execrate the European cause,' &c. Had a NATHAN been at hand, how would the daring eye have sunk, how would the hypocritical lip have quivered, while the prophet looked him sternly in the face, and pronounced the awful words-THOU ART THE MAN! There is no subterfuge for Mr. Fearon. These poor wretches are the very persons whom he is principally solicitous to entice from their country: first, by filling them with discontent, and next, by perverting their understanding by flattering promises, by fallacies and lies. The class of British society' (he says) who would be primarily benefited by emigrating to America, is that large and much injured body of men who are here chained to the country and the political system, which oppresses and grinds them to the earth-I mean THE EXTREME POOR' (and he marks the words that they may not be overlooked,) they would not be in America a week before they would experience a rapid advance in the scale of being.' p. 445. That is—and Mr. Fearon knows it cannot be otherwise-they would rise, from labourers in their own country, to redemptioners' on board a pestilential hulk, and, if they survived the passage, soar to a state of slavery in the free soil of Kentucky or Virginia.
From the hustings and the white-slave hulks, Mr. Fearon proceeded (such is the abundance of entertainment provided in Philadelphia) to the churches, as all houses of religious assembly are denominated.' He first visited the African church, in which were none but blacks, and, in the course of the same evening, ' Ebenezer church, in which were only whites.' The scene which