The tears of patriotism need no apology. The name of New-Hampshire is identified with that of freedom. Her mountains were never intended for slavery; and tyrants, I know, could not exist in the presence of her people. Were she just to herself, she would always excite fear in her enemies and admiration in her friends. Her institutions are dictated by the spirit of self-government, and her will is the supreme law of the land. Her citizens are hardy, intelligent and virtuous; her climate is salubrious and her soil fertile; her hills are covered with cattle, and her vallies wave with grain. Industry, economy, and mechanical genius are conspicuous characteristics of her people; and a thousand streams, intersecting the whole country, tender to the manufacturing interest their powerful agencies. In point of hospitality too she [13] is second to none; and the virtue, benevolence, and beauty of her daughters are, at once, the inspiration and the reward of valour.
Within a few years I have visited nearly all the states and territories of United America. I have noticed their respective moral and physical character, and have viewed them in relation to the ordinary causes of the rise and fall of nations. Should the freedom of this country ever perish, one of her last intrenchments will be in the mountains of New-Hampshire. Her citizens, however, must, by adhering to her constitution, and by proper systems of education, preserve in their minds a knowledge of the first principles of civil liberty, a due sense of the importance of morality, and a lively interest in the transactions of the Revolution. The whole history of that great event should, with us, constitute an indispensable part of education. But in speaking much of its battles, we must think more of its principles. The latter were so perfectly correct; and the manner of acting upon them was so candid, so humane, so firm, so steady, and so persevering, that no political event, since the creation of man, merits half so much admiration as the achievement of our independence.
Before leaving New-Hampshire I may say a word respecting Connecticut river. It is one of the most pleasant and useful rivers in the world. It generally preserves a distance of from eighty to one hundred miles from the ocean, and meanders through a very fertile country to the distance of more than three hundred miles. It waters New-Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, and Connecticut, and at length passes into Long-Island Sound.
I am now in Vermont.[[45]] This is a noble state, and may well be termed the peculiar sister of New-Hampshire. The same mountainous and fertile [14] country; the same moral and physical energies characterize them both. Should their liberties ever be assailed, they will sympathetically unite their efforts, and triumph or fall together. In both of these states I met with Revolutionary men, and they were still the champions of liberty. The tranquil charms of rural avocations had preserved the purity and peace of their bosoms; whilst the grandeur of their mountains, and the rudeness of their storms had continually reminded them of the blasts of tyranny, and of the unconquerable spirit of freedom.
In both of these states I experienced unlimited hospitality and kindness. Money could not have purchased so rich a boon. Amidst their lofty hills, covered with deep snows and assailed by piercing winds, I found the humble cottager; and in the benevolence of his aspect, and the hospitality of his board, I seemed to hear the chorus in Gustavus Vasa:—[[46]]
“Stranger, cease through storms to roam;
Welcome to the cotter’s home;
Though no courtly pomp be here,
Yet, my welcome is sincere.”
In some parts of these states one may travel many miles without meeting a habitation; and during deep snows and severe weather there is no little danger of perishing.