Towards the evening of the fiftieth day we entered the bay of New York:  the bay is really beautiful, and at this season (summer) perhaps appeared to the greatest advantage.  The numerous islands with which it is interspersed, were covered to the water’s edge with foliage and verdure, and here and there studded with handsome villas.  The city appeared to be literally surrounded by a thick grove of masts, from which floated the flags of many nations—­the scene, thus gradually unfolding itself to the eyes of one who had been for so long a time immured within a vessel, was really fascinating.

While at New York, I staid at the “Pearl-street Boarding-house,” and experienced from Messrs. Haskell and Perry, the proprietors, the most polite attention.  Most Europeans are astonished at the rapidity with which the Americans despatch their meals; but I, having admitted the proposition, that there was “nothing new under the sun,” had long previously ceased to be astonished at any thing.  On the first day of my dining at the table d’hote, one of those gentlemen told me, when we sat down to dinner, that most of the persons at table were men of business, who were in the habit of eating much quicker than he knew I was accustomed to, and requested that that might not in the slightest interfere with my habits, but that I should entirely suit my own comfort and convenience.  After that preface, I think I should have been most unreasonable to fall into a passion with the New Yorkers, because they bolted instead of masticating.

New York is altogether a trading place, and different from any thing of the same magnitude in Europe:  scarcely a single street is exclusively filled with private residences;—­in a mercantile point of view, it is the Liverpool of the United States.

The negros and mulattos constitute a considerable portion of the population.  It is impossible to imagine the extreme ugliness of some of the sooty gentry; a decent ourang-outang might, without presumption, vie with many of these people, even of the fair sex, and an impartial judge should certainly decide that the said ourang-outang was the handsomer animal.  Many of them are wealthy, and dress remarkably well.  The females, when their shins and misshapen feet are concealed by long gowns, appear to have good figures.  A few days after my arrival, walking down “Broadway” (the principal street) I was struck with the figure of a fashionably dressed woman, who was sauntering before me.  After passing, I turned round, when—­O angels and ministers of ugliness!—­I beheld a face, as black as soot—­a mouth that reached from ear to ear—­a nose, like nothing human—­and lips a full inch in diameter!  On the following morning, whilst dressing at my bed-room window, I heard a squeaking sort of voice warbling forth, “Love was once a little Boy,” and “I’d be a Butterfly.”  The strange melody and unusual intonations induced me to look out, when, to my astonishment, I found that the fair songstress was a most hideous-looking negress!  Such are the scenes that constantly present themselves here, and remind a European that he is in a new region.