LITMIR.BIZ

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the air of an hospital than a gaol: a single grated door separates the interior from the street. On entering the court, Mr. Hall found it full of stone-cutters, employed in sawing and preparing large blocks of stone and marble; smiths' forges were at work on one side, and the whole court was surrounded by a gallery and a double tier of work-shops, in which were brush-makers, tailors, shoemakers, weavers, all at their several occupations, labouring, not only to defray, to the public, the expenses of their confinement, but to provide the means of their own honest subsistence for the future. It had none of the usual features of a prison; neither the hardened profligacy which scoffs down its own sense of guilt, nor the hollow-eyed sorrow which wastes away in a living death of unavailing expiation: there was neither the clank of chains, nor the yell of execration; but a hardworking body of men were seen, who, though separated by justice from society, were not supposed to have lost the distinctive attribute of human nature: they were treated as rational beings, were operated upon by rational motives; and they repaid this treatment by improved habits, by industry, and submission. They had been profligate, they were now sober and decent in their behaviour; they had been idle, they were now actively and usefully employed; they had disobeyed the laws, they now submitted (armed as they were with all kinds of utensils) to the government of a single turnkey, and the barrier of a single grating.

      The markets of Philadelphia are well supplied; and the price of provisions is considerably lower than in London. No butchers are permitted to slaughter cattle within the city, nor are live cattle permitted to be driven to the city markets.

      The inhabitants of this city are estimated at one hundred and twenty thousand, and many of them live in houses which would adorn any city in the world. They have, universally, a pallid and sallow countenance, except the younger females; and many of these, even quakers, adopt the disgusting practice of ornamenting their faces with rouge. In their dress, the gentlemen follow the fashions of England, and the ladies those of France. Mr. Fearon perceived here, what, he says, pervades the whole of the new world, an affectation of splendour, or, what may be called style, in those things that are intended to meet the public eye; with a lamentable want, even of cleanliness, in such matters as are removed from that ordeal. To this may be added an appearance of uncomfortable extravagance, and an ignorance of that kind of order and neatness, which, in the eyes of those who have once enjoyed it, constitute the principal charm of domestic life. The Philadelphians consist of English, Irish, Scotch, Germans, and French; and of American-born citizens, descended from people of those different nations. It is a remark very generally made, not only by foreigners, but also by persons from distant parts of the United States, that they are extremely deficient in hospitality and politeness towards strangers. Among the uppermost circles in Philadelphia, pride, haughtiness, and ostentation, are conspicuous; and, in the manners of the people in general, there is much coldness and reserve.

      Philadelphia is the grand residence of the quakers in America, but their number does not now bear the same proportion to that of the other citizens, which it formerly did. This, however, is not occasioned by a diminution of quakers, so much as by the great influx, into the city, of persons of a different persuasion.

      In this city funerals are uniformly attended by large walking processions. The newspapers frequently contain advertisements, stating the deaths of individuals, and inviting all friends to attend the burial. The dead are seldom kept more than two days. At the time appointed, intimate friends enter the house; others assemble on the outside, and fall into the procession when the body is brought out.

      With regard to the climate of Philadelphia, it is observed that the heats of summer are excessive; and that the cold of winter is equally extreme. During the few days which Mr. Weld spent at Philadelphia, in the month of June, 1795, the heat was almost intolerable. For two or three days the thermometer stood at 93°, and, during these days, no one stirred out of doors who was not compelled to do so. Light white hats were universally worn, and the young men appeared dressed in cotton or linen jackets and trowsers. The window-shutters of the houses were closed early in the mornings, so as to admit no more light than what was absolutely necessary for domestic business. Indeed, many of the houses were kept so dark, that, on going into them from the street, it was impossible, at first entrance, to perceive who was present. The best houses in the city are furnished with Venetian blinds, at the outside, to the windows and hall doors, which are made to fold together like common window-shutters. A very different scene was presented after sunset. Every house was then thrown open, and all the inhabitants crowded into the streets, to take their evening walks, and to visit their acquaintance. This usually lasted till about ten o'clock: at eleven all was quiet; and a person might have passed over half the town without seeing a single human being, except the watchmen. Heavy dews sometimes fall after the sun is down, and the nights are then very cold: at other times there are no dews, and the air continues hot all the night through. At this season of the year meat cannot be kept sweet, even for a single day, except in an icehouse or a remarkably cold cellar. Milk generally turns sour in an hour or two; and fish is never brought to market without being covered with lumps of ice. Poultry, intended for dinner, is never killed till about four hours before it is wanted, and even then it is kept immersed in water.

      The carriages used in Philadelphia consist of coaches, chariots, chaises, coachees, and light waggons. The equipages of a few individuals are extremely ostentatious; but there does not appear, in any, that neatness and elegance which might be expected among people who are desirous of imitating the fashions of England, and who are continually procuring models from that country. The coachee is a carriage peculiar to America; the body of it is somewhat longer than that of a coach, but of the same shape. In front it is left quite open, down to the bottom, and the driver sits on a bench under the roof. It has two seats for the passengers, who sit with their faces towards the horses. The roof is supported by small props, which are placed at the corners. On each side of the doors, above the pannels, it is quite open; and, to guard against bad weather, there are curtains, which are made to let down from the roof, and which fasten to buttons, placed for the purpose, on the outside. There is also a leathern curtain, to hang occasionally between the driver and passengers.

      The light waggons are on the same construction, but are calculated to accommodate from four to twelve people. The only difference between a small waggon and a coachee, is, that the latter is better finished, has varnished pannels, and doors at the side. The former has no doors; but the passengers scramble in, the best way they can, over the seat of the driver. These waggons are universally used for stage-carriages.

      The accommodations at the taverns, in Philadelphia, are very indifferent; as, indeed, with very few exceptions, they are throughout the country. The mode of conducting them is nearly the same every where. The traveller, on his arrival, is shown into a room, which is common to every person in the house, and which is generally the one set apart for breakfast, dinner, and supper. All the strangers that are in the house sit down, to these meals, promiscuously; and, excepting in the large towns, the family of the house also forms a part of the company. It is seldom that a private parlour or drawing-room can be procured at taverns, even in the towns; and it is always with reluctance that breakfast or dinner is served up separately to any individual. If a separate bed-room can be procured, more ought not to be expected; and it is not always that even this is to be had; and persons who travel through the country must often submit to be crammed into rooms where there is scarcely sufficient space to walk between the beds.

      The Delaware, on the banks of which this city is built, rises in the state of New York. At Philadelphia it is thirteen hundred and sixty yards wide, and is navigable for vessels of any burden. It is frozen in the winter months; a circumstance which materially affects the commercial interests of Philadelphia, and gives a great advantage to New York. The tide reaches as high as the falls of Trenton, thirty-five miles above Philadelphia, and one hundred and fifty-five miles from the sea. Six or seven steam-boats, of large size, ply on the Delaware, and form a communication with New York, by Trenton and Bordentown; and with Baltimore, by Wilmington and Newcastle. These vessels are all fitted up in an elegant manner.

      Over the river Schuylkil, near Philadelphia, there is a singular bridge of iron wire. It is four hundred feet in length, and extends, from the window of a wire factory, to a tree on the opposite shore. The wires which form the curve are six in number; three on each side, and each three-eighths of an inch in diameter. The floor of the bridge is elevated sixteen feet above the water; and

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