LIFE OF WILSON. 
Ixxvii 
is a great sportsman — a man of fortune and education — and 
has a considerable number of stuffed birds, some of which he 
gave me, besides letters to several gentlemen of influence in 
Boston. I endeavoured to recompense him in the best man- 
ner I could, and again pursued my route to the north-east. 
The country between this and Hartford is extremely beautiful, 
much resembling that between Philadelphia and Franldbrd. 
The road is a hard sandy soil; and in one place I had an im- 
mense prospect of the surrounding country, nearly equal to 
that which we saw returning from Easton, but less covered 
with woods. On reaching Hartford, I waited on Mr. G., a 
member of congress, who recommended me to several others, 
particularly a Mr. W., a gentleman of taste and fortune, who 
was extremely obliging. The publisher of a newspaper here 
expressed the highest admiration of the work, and has since 
paid many handsome compliments to it in his publication, as 
three other editors did in New York. This is a species of cur- 
rency that will neither purchase plates, nor pay the printer; 
but, nevertheless, it is gratifying to the vanity of an author — 
when nothing better can he got. My journey from Hartford 
to Boston, through Springfield, Worcester, &c. one hundred 
and twenty-eight miles, it is impossible for me to detail at this 
time. From the time I entered Massachusetts, until within 
ten miles of Boston, which distance is nearly two-thirds the 
length of the whole state, I took notice that the principal fea- 
tures of the country were stony mountains, rocky pasture 
fields, and hills and swamps adorned with pines. The fences, 
in every direction, are composed of strong stones; and, unless 
a few straggling, self-planted, stunted apple trees, overgrown 
with moss, deserve the name, there is hardly an orchard to be 
seen in ten miles. Every six or eight miles you come to a 
meeting-house, painted white, with a spire. I could perceive 
little difference in the form or elevation of their steeples. 
“ The people here make no distinction between town and 
township; and travellers frequently asked the driver of the 
stagecoach, “ What town are we now in?” when perhaps we 
