We also passed what once was the residence of ex-royalty--the princely
mansion which Joseph Bonaparte erected for himself after he lost the
throne of Spain. It is surrounded with about 900 acres of land, his own
private property; and was still in the family, though about to be sold.
What a home has America proved both to fallen greatness and to
struggling poverty! Princes and peasants alike find shelter here.

This journey conducted us through New Brunswick, Elizabeth Town,
Newark,--places associated with the name of David Brainerd, and often
(a hundred years ago) the scenes of his toils and travels. But where
are the descendants of those Indians on whose behalf he felt such
intense solicitude? Alas! not a vestige of them is to be seen.

Having thus crossed New Jersey State, we came to New Jersey city, where
we crossed a ferry to New York. After rather more than the usual amount
of anxiety about baggage, &c., we reached the Planter's Hotel a little
after 10 at night.

Next morning I sallied forth to gaze, for the first time, at the
wonders of New York. The state of the streets impressed me
unfavourably. The pigs were in the enjoyment of the same unstinted
liberty as at Cincinnati. Merchants and storekeepers spread their goods
over the entire breadth of the causeway, and some even to the very
middle of the street. Slops of all sorts, and from all parts of the
houses, were emptied into the street before the front doors! The ashes
were disposed of in a very peculiar manner. Each house had, on the edge
of the parapet opposite, an old flour-barrel, or something of the sort,
into which were thrown ashes, sweepings, fish-bones, dead rats, and all
kinds of refuse. A dead rat very frequently garnished the top of the
barrel. This was the order of things, not in small by-streets only, but