and now I perceive he has come to this country to try how his old coat will fit brother Jonathan. In no instance, however, is this propensity to imitation carried to such ridiculous extremes, as in the manner of dressing practised by Mrs. Jonathan, who has a most vehement desire to figure with Mrs. Bull, and the rest. Independently of the great difference in climate between our northern parts, and England or France, it is generally about three or four months after their invention abroad that Mrs. Jonathan gets the fashions. It generally happens, therefore, that the modes invented and adapted for summer there, become the dress of our ladies for autumn or winter; and so with respect to the other seasons. No wonder our dear little girls so often cover their friends with suits of mourning, and break the hearts of their lovers, by dying of consumptions. On some future occasion, I may perhaps trace the effects of this propensity for John Bull's old clothes, on our literature, where it is most important of all, because it strikes at the root of every thing we do, and say, and think, and feel. At present I have merely trifled on the subject; but I have said enough to tire myself, and to raise a hornet's nest about my ears, if it were known that I don't believe in all sorts of societies; nor in dumb philosophers; nor converted journeymen Jew shoemakers; nor, least of all, in the hopeful idea that some half a dozen ignorant missionaries, who never performed a miracle at home, are able, without a miracle, to convert men from the religion of Brahma, fortified, as it is, beyond any other

system ever devised, and become more sacred in the eyes of its professors, by a duration of which none can tell the beginning.

But I am getting a bad habit of digressing in such a desperate manner, that sometimes I have hard work to find what I ought to be talking about. It seems with me as it fared with Achilles, of whom it was foretold, that if he ever left his native home, he would never return. So, if I lose my subject, I seem fated never to find it again, as the poor man in the Rambler, who strayed about in search of flowers, till he could neither find the place of his destination, nor that of his departure. But I am not without some excuse; for owing to the various causes I have touched on heretofore, a traveller could not possibly get along if he told of nothing but what actually occurred to him, and of nothing but what he actually saw or heard.

In reading the relations of old travellers, I am tempted almost to believe, that every thing in this country has been, for two centuries at least, growing downwards, like unto a cow's tail. The Baron la Hontan, who wrote in 1683, says, the Fall of Niagara was then between seven and eight hundred feet high. "Oh, what a fall was there, my 'countrymen !" Nothing ever equalled it, except Adam's fall, the greatest I ever heard of. Father Charlevoix charges the baron with being a baron of the order of Munchausen; but the good father himself, who wrote in 1720, in order to shine, I suppose, by contrast, tells several matters of fact that require great faith in the

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reader to credit. For my part, I don't believe one of these, except the story of the eagle, who, now-adays, I suppose, economizes his wood, on account of its growing scarce. He talks of rattlesnakes thicker than a man's thigh; of eagles' nests from which they got a full cart load of wood; of owls who cunningly broke the toes of mice, to prevent the little rogues from running away, and then fattened them in hollow trees for their winter's food; of elks curing themselves of the epilepsy by scratching the left ear with the right hoof until it bled; and of other matters utterly unswallowable, as Doctor Johnson does not say. It was worth while to travel in those days, when a man had the country all to himself as it were. But now, the learned people will not believe any thing but their own theories; and the unlearned believe nothing but what is probable. As to yourself, I can hardly tell where to class you; for while you scout the idea of cats' sneezing being ominous of a storm, you believe in the Huttonian theory; and while you deny that crabs grow fat at the full of the moon, you put full faith in the story of a shower of crabs which it is said once fell, out in the West Indies.

The little town of Lexington, somewhere about which I believe I left myself in my last letter, is charmingly situated in the midst of a rich country, gently undulating like the waves of the ocean. Around it are many fine farms, and pleasant country houses, conveying an idea of that delightful repose, that quiet independence, which is so peculiarly the lot of him who cultivates the soil; and which, who

ever knows when he is well off, will never be tempted to resign by the allurements of sudden wealth, or commercial glitter.

O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint I forget the rest-says honest farmer Virgil, who, if he knew any thing about farming, was an exception to all the poets I ever knew, either personally or by report. This was all I could see of the country, just in the environs of Lexington; for it was raining, as I mentioned, when we arrived, and foggy when we departed. But I saw enough to convince me the landscape was beautiful. I saw in the town a handsome courthouse and church, both of brick; a proof there is both law and gospel in Virginia, though aunt Kate don't believe a word of it.

Farewell.

DEAR FRANK,

LETTER XXVIII.

AT SI received your letter, giving all the city news. It grieves me to hear of the increasing abominations prevailing in that goodly metropolis, which seems destined to be for ever the sport of fashionable caprices, and rantipole eccentricities. I am consoled, however, for a great many things, by the exemplary conduct of the ladies, who, I understand, are grown so economical, that they save nearly half the expense of clothing, by paring off the superfluities above and below. This is setting a noble example, and I wonder the economical orators in congress have not made honourable mention of it before now. But I suppose they will next session; for last winter, at Washington, I observed one of them taking particular notice of a lady not above half naked. The account you gave of aunt Kate diverted me out of all measure. You tell me, that not content with being already a member of six-and-forty charitable societies, she has lately got up one for the relief of the poor orphans, whose mothers have burned themselves on the funeral pile of their deceased husbands in the East Indies! If things go on at this rate, honest industry will ere long become a mere slave to the self-created necessities of the idle, and every

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