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[133] Kent, I wrote a full letter to Professor Greenleaf, giving him an account of it.

Thursday morning, at seven o'clock, my baggage was in the hands of a porter, to be conveyed to the Philadelphia boat. And here was a delightful passage. First, thirty miles in a fast-sailing, spacious boat to Amboy; thence, thirty-seven miles on the railway, which we travelled in about two hours, part of the way going at the rate of more than twenty miles an hour. The interval between landing from the steamboat and starting on the railway was but a minute. All the baggage was taken from the boat in one crate and put into a car; the passengers, about thirty, jumped into the different carriages, all attached to one steam-carriage, and were soon far on our way,—moving fast but very gentle,—bowling through the sandy desert or pine-clad plains of New Jersey. At distances of about twelve miles the machine stopped for three minutes to take in water; the bell rang, and we were again on our ‘winding way.’ At Bordentown—the residence of Joseph Bonaparte—we took the boat again. The crate of baggage was swung into the boat, the bell rang, and we were soon pushing the water away before us, and leaving a wake as far back as the eye could reach. At four o'clock-after going thirty miles—we were in Philadelphia, the city of straight streets and marble edifices. I called upon Mr. Walsh;1 was received kindly, &c.: called upon Mr. Troubat;2 on his invitation determined to stay one day in the city, to attend the courts. To-day have attended the courts; visited the waterworks; seen my old schoolmate Peabody, who is a merchant here and boards where I am stopping. I shall start for Baltimore to-morrow at seven o'clock.

Your prodigal son,

To his parents.

Washington, Monday, Feb. 24, 1834.
my dear parents,—Here I am in the great city, or rather the city of great design, of spacious and far-reaching streets, without houses to adorn them or business to keep them lively, with a Capitol that would look proud amidst any European palaces, and with whole lines of houses, which resemble much the erections at Cambridgeport and Lechmere Point,—poor, stunted brick houses, with stores beneath and boarding above. There is nothing natural in the growth of the city. It only grows under the hot-bed culture of Congress. There is no confluence of trade from different parts of the country, and no natural commercial or manufacturing advantages to induce persons to live here. So, for aught I see, it must for ever remain as it is now,—a place of winter resort, as the Springs are of summer resort, and be supported entirely by travellers and sojourners. I arrived here last evening, at about six o'clock, and as yet have only seen the outside of the Capitol;

1 Robert Walsh, then editor of the ‘National Gazette.’

2 Francis J. Troubat.

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