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[132] I thought more than once that he was sitting for his picture. Many more things I can tell you when I see you.

As I passed through Hartford, I saw Judge Daggett on the bench. Not having time to stop, I enclosed your favor in a note, in which I expressed a wish to consider your letter as a continuing introduction, if, upon my return, I should find him at home and disengaged.

I am now in the great Babel. Every thing is in a whirl. Boston seems small and thinly peopled compared with this mammoth place.

Here, as elsewhere, I am

Yours affectionately,


To his parents.

Philadelphia, Friday Evening, Feb. 21.
my dear parents,—Since writing you from the steamboat, I have flown many rapid miles further on my journey, tried a novel conveyance, and seen the two most extensive cities of this part of the world. Indeed, Boston is but a baby compared with the mammoth size of these two places. New York is one perpetual whirl and bustle; the streets flow with throngs, as thick and pressing as those of Boston on a gala day. Carriages of all sorts are hurrying by; omnibuses and Broadway coaches for the conveyance of citizens up and down their miles of streets are perpetually in sight. Stores, almost infinite in number and variety, line the long streets. One must be wide awake, or he will run over or be run over by some of the crowd. One minute after I had left the steamboat was enough to let me know that I was in a place under different influences from Boston; where business was pushed to its extremest points, and all the available energies of men were put in requisition. I fancy that I can see a vast increase since I was there five years ago. This may be attributed in part to my being more of an observer now.

I arrived at New York at two o'clock in the afternoon of Wednesday; had my baggage carried to the ‘American;’ was cheated by the porter; changed my coat, &c., and sallied out to walk round the city, to drop my many letters into the post-office, and to call upon Chancellor Kent. It was with some difficulty that I found him, living as he does at an extreme part of the city, in a splendid house, where a year ago, as he told me, was a pasture. I jumped into a Broadway coach, and was conveyed somewhere near his residence. I found him in a parlor; was waited upon by him into his study; shown his law and miscellaneous library; his manuscript comments upon the books and reviews he reads,—and he reads every thing legal and literary that is published; his interleaved copy of his Commentaries, in which he is making additional references, explanations, &c.; was invited to tea, which I declined, and to call as I returned. Kent's conversation is lively and instructive, but grossly ungrammatical. It is a wonder which I cannot solve, that he is so correct a writer (I do not think very highly of his taste as a writer) and so incorrect a converser. The same evening, after my interview with


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