TOUR IN THE UNITED STATES. 197 



course. The preacher, a young man, who (in his priestly office) 

 calls old ladies, old enough to be his grandmothers, "my child," 

 and expects them to call him " father." These vagaries are quite 

 as prevalent here as in England, indeed, I think more so, for 

 there is less opposition. The sermon was about "our holy 

 mother" and her teaching, and the obedience we owe to her 

 " holy commands," all very proper and orthodox. 



Monday I returned to New York, and I start for Florida on 

 Saturday next. I hope to meet Bailey at Charleston, and now 

 I wish you all a happy Christmas. 



To the Same. 



New York, December 31, 1849. 



I can imagine that the winter season here may be very 

 agreeable to those who have not to work in the open air, and 

 who keep good fires at home, but the poor must suffer keenly. 

 To-day I observed a little boy, and afterwards a woman, picking 

 cinders out of the heaps of ashes along the streets — cinders so 

 very much burned that I should not think they could be lighted, 

 but, added to the fuel, they may serve to keep fire alive. Who 

 would have anticipated such wretched shifting poverty in this 

 land of plenty ? but in a large city there must always be 

 poverty. On Christmas-day the thermometer was at zero, and I 

 thought it rather cold : it pained the face when walking against 

 the wind. I have just decided that buckwheat cakes and 

 sleighing are both humbugs, though very much talked of here, 

 the one being delicious and the other delightful. The streets are 

 white with snow, and numerous sleighs of all sizes are running 

 up and down Broadway and along the by-streets, but I was not 

 tempted to mount into any. It seemed cold fun. The snow is 

 not yet thick enough, and so the sleighs jog and jolt along, 

 but the happy people crowd into the vehicles,, and fancy them- 

 selves gliding smoothly. They remind me of the Irish sedan 

 (bottomless), prized only for the " honour of the thing." 



On Friday I dined with Mr. , in one of the fine houses 



or palaces at the upper end of the city. He is a retired 

 merchant, and very rich. The house is magnificent : from 

 a large square hall we passed to the library, and from thence 

 were ushered into a splendid double drawing-room, with velvet 

 carpet, satin hangings, an 1 richly-framed mirrors of vast size. It 



