a city but has an ample share of them. I have mingled among them
in my time, and been almost withered by the shade into which they
cast me; for there is nothing so baleful to a small man as the
shade of a great one, particularly the great man of a city. But I
was anxious to see the great men of Europe; for I had read in the
works of various philosophers, that all animals degenerated in
America, and man among the number. A great man of Europe, thought
I, must therefore be as superior to a great man of America, as a
peak of the Alps to a highland of the Hudson; and in this idea I
was confirmed by observing the comparative importance and
swelling magnitude of many English travellers among us, who, I
was assured, were very little people in their own country. I will
visit this land of wonders, thought I, and see the gigantic race
from which I am degenerated.

It has been either my good or evil lot to have my roving passion
gratified. I have wandered through different countries and
witnessed many of the shifting scenes of life. I cannot say that
I have studied them with the eye of a philosopher, but rather
with the sauntering gaze with which humble lovers of the
picturesque stroll from the window of one print-shop to another;
caught sometimes by the delineations of beauty, sometimes by the
distortions of caricature, and sometimes by the loveliness of
landscape. As it is the fashion for modern tourists to travel
pencil in hand, and bring home their portfolios filled with
sketches, I am disposed to get up a few for the entertainment of
my friends. When, however, I look over the hints and memorandums
I have taken down for the purpose, my heart almost fails me, at
finding how my idle humor has led me astray from the great object
studied by every regular traveller who would make a book. I fear