2i2 Letters froyn the United States of North America. [March, 



neighbourhood — a neighbourhood of country such as I never met with 

 before — so beautiful was it, so crowded with variety, woods, waters, 

 villages, country seats: a neighbourhood of water, such-as I never hope 

 to meet with again — so full of activity, so bright, and so cheerful — 

 brido-es on every side, water on every side, a fort here and a fort there, 

 and a multitude of ships moving away, like huge birds, in every direc- 

 tion, over the still, shining deep, half in the blue sea, half in the blue 



air* a neighbourhood of houses, roof below roof, street below street, 



spreading away like an amphitheatre, all open to the sea and sky. 



It contains, they tell me, somewhere about fifty or sixty thousand 

 souls — they are not very positive •,—they are not, but / am : for I took it 

 into my head, after making a few separate inquiries, all of which were 

 answered in such a way as to puzzle me " not a few" — (one saying from 

 forty to forty-five ; another, from forty-five to fifty ; a third, from fifty 

 to fifty-five, and so forth and so forth) — to inquire of a population table, 

 which was got up under authority of congress for the year 1810; by 

 which table, I discovered that, fourteen years ago, the population of 

 Boston did not exceed 33,250 : of course — but no, I will not say of 

 course, — but I do not believe the population exceeds 40, or 45,000, now ; 

 yet, looking to the average rate of increase here, throughout the whole 

 country, a rate which has no parallel in the history of empires, whatever 

 it may have in the history of cities, I should be Mailing to estimate the 

 population of Boston, while I am writing, at somewhere about, say from 

 40, to 45,000. But why their large over-estimate ? why ! because, in 

 the first place, we are all prone to exaggeration — it is a part of man's 

 nature ; no time, no suffering, no humiliation will destroy the propen- 

 sity. After j^ears of hardship, and watchful regard for truth, it will 

 betray itself— exaggeration, that is, in every act of his life — whether 

 important or trivial, absurd or wise — ^but never so uniformly perhaps, or 

 so preposterously, as where he has occasion to speak of himself, or of 

 that which, in any way, no matter how, concerns himself. Let a man 

 walk a doubtful given distance, within a doubtful given time — say about 

 five miles, in about fifty or sixty minutes ; if he be one of a thousand for 

 truth, remarkable for a tender, scrupulous regard for it, he will say 

 (such is the very nature of the beast) — he will say that he walked about 

 five or six miles, in about forty or fifty minutes. And what if he do, 

 would he not speak the truth? Certainly he would. And if another — B. 

 should begin where he left off, and say that A. walked (if A.'s own word 

 were to be taken for the matter) six or seven miles, in thirty or forty 



» We know little of North American poetry, here : allow me to give you another 

 brief passage, in proof. It is extracted from a nule, iiTcgular, imfinished affair, called 

 the " Conquest of Peru," where the " coming of the first ship " is recorded. You 

 will perceive why it occurs to me — our friend's letter is worthy of it. 



" Up from the sea it rose, the wonderful ! 



Away upon the still horizon, where the air 



Was like a shadowy lustre, «here tlie blue 



Was purest, brightest, there appeared, O, God ! 



The spirit of the ocean ! All his wings were out ! 



His li.ng bright hair streamed forth upon the sky ! 



In thunder he arose ! Clouds burnt around him, 



And o'er the wave, and through the rolling smoke, 



Rushing in light, he came— ploughing it up — 

 ***** and as we fled. 



Thundered again through all our echoing hills." X. X. > 



