A Ramble of Six Thousand Miles through the United States of America | Page 4

"I'd be a Butterfly." The strange melody and
unusual intonations induced me to look out, when, to my astonishment,
I found that the fair songstress was a most hideous-looking negress!

Such are the scenes that constantly present themselves here, and remind
a European that he is in a new region.
The white ladies dress fashionably, generally à la Françoise; have
straight figures, and with the help of a little cotton, judiciously disposed,
and sometimes, the smallest possible portion of rouge, contrive to look
rather interesting; in general, they are lamentably deficient in tournure
and en-bon-point. The hands and feet of the greatest belle, are pas
mignon, and would be termed plebeian by the Anglo-Normans--the
aristocracy of England. Yet I have seen many girls extremely handsome
indeed, having a delicate bloom and fair skin; but this does not endure
long, as the variable nature of the climate--the sudden and violent
transitions of temperature which occur on this continent, destroy, in a
few years, the complexion of the finest woman. When she arrives at the
age of thirty, her skin is shrivelled and discoloured; she is thin, and has
all the indications of premature old age. The women of England retain
their beauty at least ten years longer than those of America.
The inhabitants of that part of New York nearest the shipping, are
extremely sallow and unhealthy looking, and many have a most
cadaverous aspect. Malaria certainly exists here in some degree. A man
will tell you that the city is perfectly healthy, whilst his own
appearance most unquestionably indicates disease. I speak now of the
quays and adjacent streets; and the cause is very apparent. The wharfs
are faced with wood, and the retiring of the tide exposes a rotten
vegetable substance to the action of an almost tropical sun, which,
added to the filth that is invariably found in the neighbourhood of
shipping, is quite sufficient to produce the degree of unhealthiness that
exists. On going up the town, the appearance of the inhabitants
gradually improves, and approaching the suburbs, the difference is
striking,--in this district I have seen persons as stout and healthy
looking as any in England or Ireland.
On the night of my arrival, a fire broke out, by which several extensive
warehouses were entirely consumed. There is nothing more remarkable
here than the frequent occurrence of this calamity, except the excellent
arrangements that are made for arresting its progress. The engines,

apparatus, and corps de pompiers, are admirably maintained, and the
promptitude and regularity with which they arrive at the scene of
devastation truly astonishing: indeed, were this not the case, the city
must very soon be destroyed; for notwithstanding all their exertions,
every conflagration makes it minus several houses, and few nights pass
without bringing a misfortune of this nature.
There are several theatres, churches, and other public buildings,
dispersed throughout the city. The City Hall, which stands near the
upper end of a small enclosure, called the Park, is considered the
handsomest building in the United States. It was finished in 1812, and
cost half a million dollars.
The police regulations appear not to be so severe as they ought to be,
for droves of hogs are permitted to roam about the streets, to the terror
of fine ladies, and the great annoyance of all pedestrians.
New York was settled by the Dutch in 1615, and called by them New
Amsterdam. In 1634, it was conquered by the English,--retaken by the
Dutch in 1673, and restored in 1674. Its present population is estimated
at 213,000.
Having heard that the celebrated Frances Wright, authoress of "A Few
Days in Athens," was publicly preaching and promulgating her
doctrines in the city, I determined on paying the "Hall of Science" a
visit, in which establishment she usually lectured. The address she
delivered on the evening I attended had been previously delivered on
the fourth of July, in the city of Philadelphia; but, at the request of a
numerous party of "Epicureans," she was induced to repeat it. The hall
might contain perhaps ten or twelve hundred persons, and on this
occasion it was filled to excess, by a well-dressed audience of both
sexes.
The person of Frances Wright is tall and commanding--her features are
rather masculine, and the melancholy cast which her countenance
ordinarily assumes gives it rather a harsh appearance--her dark chestnut
hair hangs in long graceful curls about her neck; and when delivering
her lectures, her appearance is romantic and unique.

She is a speaker of great eloquence and ability, both as to the matter of
her orations, and the manner of their delivery. The first sentence she
utters rivets your attention; and, almost unconsciously, your sympathies
are excited, and you are carried onward by the reasonings and the
eloquence of this disciple of the Gardens. The