PART III.] SECOND POSTSCRIPT. 599 



1057. There is, I am told, one FEARON, \vho 

 has gone home and written and published a 

 book, abusing this country and its people in the 

 grossest manner. I only hear of it by letter. I 

 hear, also, that he speaks of me as if he knew 

 me. I will tell you how far he knew me : I 

 live at a country house 20 miles from New 

 York. One morning, in the summer of 1817, a 

 young man came into the hall, and introduced 

 himself to me under the name of FEARON. The 

 following 1 find about him in my journal: 

 " A Mr. FEARON came this morning and had 

 " breakfast with us. Told us an odd story 

 " about having slept in a black woman's hut 

 " last night for sixpence, though there are excel- 

 " lent taverns at every two miles along the road. 

 " Told us a still odder story about his being an 

 " envoy from a host of families in London, to 

 " look out for a place of settlement in America ; 

 " but he took special care not to name any one 

 " of those families, though we asked him to do 

 *' it. We took him, at first, for a sort of spy. 

 " William thinks he is a shopkeeper's clerk ; I 

 " think he has been a tailor. I observed that he 

 " carried his elbow close to his sides, and his 

 " arms, below the elbow, in a horizontal posi- 

 " tion. It came out that he had been with 

 " BUCHANAN, Castlereagh's consul at New 

 " York ; but it is 190 ridiculous ; such a thing 



