I will not multiply instances, as I might do, nor need I offer further comment. I confess freely that I have a pride in setting this much-enduring class of my countrymen before the English people, who, generous themselves, know how to appreciate good in others. At these times one page of fact is worth a volume of unsupported eulogium. If the present short statement contributes to promoting a kind feeling towards a little known, although much abused class, it will have accomplished the end contemplated, and in doing this, will have served all parties.
Friday, 19th.—After passing four days with my New York friends, on this morning, at six A.M. descended from No. 1; and having bade Mr. Willard a final adieu, quitted the City Hotel, where, during many comings and goings, I had always lodged, and where I had constantly experienced the greatest attention.
Reached Philadelphia, in company with a few kind friends, and found that the Algonquin had that morning dropped down to Newcastle. Made one or two calls, and early to bed.
Saturday, at six A.M. went on board the steamer, and in a couple of hours after got a sight of our ship, at anchor near Newcastle, where we arrived about nine A.M.
Whilst attending upon the arrangement of my baggage on the quay here, a little boy delivered me a parcel. It was directed to me, with the donor's compliments and good wishes.
On opening it, I found it contained a roll of caricatures, together with one of the earliest journals ever printed in Pennsylvania, and a couple of copies of the latest journal started here, being the first number of a Newcastle journal that very day published.
In an hour after, we embarked; and this attention of a stranger was the last kind act of the many courtesies which I have received in this country, which I quit with the feelings of a son of the soil.
After dropping down as far as Delaware city, we anchored for the tide. As it blew fresh, our pilot determined not to weigh before daylight.
Sunday 21st.—On coming from between decks found that we were well out in the bay, a schooner standing for us to take our pilot. I descended to the cabin to write a note or two, and found myself almost involuntarily scribbling verses. 'Tis an odd freak of my fancy, that although never addicted to poetizing, and ordinarily incapable of manufacturing a couplet that will jingle even, I am rarely agitated by any strong feeling, without having a sort of desire to rhyme; luckily the delusion is exceedingly short-lived, and unfrequent in its visitations. The reader shall, however, have all the benefit of my present attempt, as I feel bound to treat him, who may have held on with me thus far, with perfect confidence.