LETTER VIII.

DEAR FRANK,

MAYBE you have seen the contest of two rival ladies, of pretty nearly equal family, fortune, and pretensions, for the supreme dominion over a little country town-how they dressed, and fidgeted, what low courtesies, and sly, civil, disagreeable inquiries they made when they met, and how they always endeavoured to outstay each other at a tea-party, to have the last word, which, like the last blow, is decisive of victory. It is thus with our cities, little and great. New-York and Philadelphia, being incontestably at the head of the ton, are for ever disputing the palm of fashion, science, literature, fine arts, "and all that sort of thing." One is better builtthe other has the finest port; one has the most commerce--the other the most manufactures; one has its steeples-the other its shot-towers; one has its Hudson and East rivers-the other its Delaware and Schuylkill. When the Philadelphian is hard pushed, he boasts of his squares and his wide streets, his beef and his butter; and when the New-Yorker is in the greatest extremity, he opens his battery upon his antagonist, and demolishes him in a twinkling. Boston values itself on its town-meetings and athenæum. Baltimore on its taste in music: and Charleston is

proud of its races. Thus all have some straw to tickle themselves with, and the natives of each are astonished, when they meet, that any body should question their superiority.

Richmond and Norfolk are the belles of "Ould Virginia;" one being the beauty of the region of river alluvion, the other of the region of sea sand. This, of course, is a sufficient reason for a most vehement rivalship. Though at the distance of nearly two hundred miles, they seem to consider the prosperity of one as interfering with that of the other, and consequently look with a jealous eye on every internal improvement in roads or canals, that is exclusively advantageous to either. They remind us of the good dame Ashfield, in Speed the Plough, whose great rival in the village was one Mrs. Grundy. Nothing happened to the former, that she did not exclaim, "I wonder what Mrs. Grundy will say to this?" until, at last, honest Farmer Ashfield gets out of patience, and exclaims, "Dom Mrs. Grundy, you're always dinging, dinging her in my ears."

This rivalship is not peculiar to your consequential cities, having a town-house, a corporation, constables, catchpoles, and such like dignitaries, but pervades all neighbouring little towns throughout the world. Indeed, the less they are, the more inveterate seems their jealousy. The smallest trifle sets them pulling caps, and nothing can produce the least unanimity, except the bone of contention being given to one in particular, when all the rest unite against the fortunate Mrs. Grundy, and pull her reputation to pieces. VOL. IG 2

In addition to this, every great town has a number of little ones attached to its interests, and taking its part, like some small German prince in the quarrels of Europe. They put one in mind of a battle between two city mastiffs of distinction, when, you know, every little bobtail crop-eared cur sallies forth to take sides, growling, showing his teeth, cocking his stump-tail bolt upright, and lifting his leg at every post in the neighbourhood with great intrepidity. This diminutive jealousy of our neighbours, I believe, is not peculiar to any nation or age; it subsists everywhere, and at all times, but still it is not the less ridiculous for all that.

James river, on which Richmond lies, is navigable for ships to within a few miles of the city, where it is obstructed by a bar, beyond which only smaller vessels can pass. This is the reason why the people of Norfolk call the place "Shallow Richmond," as King Richard distinguishes his rival competitor. It is in contemplation to remove this bar, under the belief that it was originally caused by a deposition of logs. If so, the project is feasible enough; but if it arises from any peculiarity in the natural current of the river, there will certainly be a bar at all times somewhere near this spot. From the junction of the Appomattox with James river up to Richmond, the latter stream pursues a course singularly winding, so that in one place you sail nearly in a circle for some miles. This is called the Dutchman's gap, a name which they explain by a story, which is peculiarly remarkable, as being the only instance, either in

history or tradition, where a Dutchman outwitted any body. I would tell it you, but you would not comprehend it, without a description of the place, which I can't afford to give just now.

One thing struck me here as a peculiarity. It may be common, but I have not observed it before. The banks of this river, for upwards of forty miles, are, in every instance, singularly contrasted. If high on one side, it is low and flat on the other, and in no one instance did I see an exception to this rule. It is not my business to explain these matters. Let the philosophers look to them, if, as is very possible, they have not explained them before. After the junction of the two streams, the river widens, and just here it is that the ship navigation properly ends, in coming up from the bay. The place is called City-Point, a lucus a non lucendo-there being no city, only every body wonders why one was not built there. Below this, commence those extensive flats where the early settlers first broke the soil of the United States; and where the first sun rose and set on the natives of the eastern hemisphere, pursuing the peaceful occupations of husbandry in this wilderness of the west. It is here then that we see the spot where first was planted the seeds of this great country-mighty in its present vigorous youth, but far mightier in its future destinies. The place, therefore, is one of the most interesting to a reflecting mind (as mine is of course) of any in this country. To an American it is peculiarly interesting. You know I have travelled to Rome-seen all the ruins-and been besieged in

that renowned city by at least ten thousand beggars. Then I have been up the Archipelago, where I saw several things that are not to be seen, as most travellers do. Then I have been at Smyrna, where I never wish to go again, and seen the very spot where old Homer, as they affirm, kept a grammar-school. A strange place, there being not a single birch tree in the whole neighbourhood! From thence we may infer, that "probably," as the learned member of the Agricultural Society of Otaheite, &c. &c. &c. &c. would say that, probably, either Homer used the ferula, instead of a birchen twig-or that he did not approve of flagellation--or, lastly, that he never kept a school in this place. This last supposition is rendered more "probable," by the claim of the Island of Chios to the same honour; but every body knows, that islanders always have been, and always will be, the greatest braggarts in the world. But to return, I have travelled from Smyrna to Constantinople, in which progress I was almost bitten to death by fleas. Here, too, I encountered a Christian exile, who bore this testimony to the exuberance of Christian charity--“I have travelled among savages, pagans, mussulmen, and whenever I entered their doors, they gave me all that my wants demanded, and felt the offer of remuneration as an insult--but when I come among Christians, I can get nothing without money." But he had never been in Old Virginia.

Yet, after having seen (in books) all these remains of ancient, or exhibitions of modern, magnificence, I