great perplexity in meeting his engage ments. This too has been increased, by the altercations and heart-burnings which are continually taking place in his family. His children have been brought up to different callings, and are of different ways of thinking; and as they have always been allowed to speak their minds freely, they do not fail to exercise the privilege most clamorously in the present posture of his affairs. Some stand up for the honour of the race, and are clear that the old establishment should be kept up in all its state, whatever may be the cost; others, who are more prudent and considerate, entreat the old gentleman to retrench his expenses, and to put his whole system of housekeeping on a more moderate footing. He has, indeed, at times seemed inclined to listen to their opinions, but their wholesome advice has been completely defeated by the obstreperous conduct of one of his sons. This is a noisy rattle-pated fellow, of rather low habits, who neglects his business to frequent ale-houses-is the orator of village clubs, and a complete oracle among the poorest of his father's tenants. No sooner does he hear any of his brothers mention reform or retrenchment, than up he jumps, takes the words out of their mouths, and roars out for an overturn. When his tongue is once going, nothing can stop it. He rants about the room; hectors the old man about his spendthrift practices; ridicules his tastes and pursuits; insists that he shall turn the old servants out of doors; give the broken-down horses to the hounds; send the fat chaplain packing, and take a field preacher in his place-nay, that the whole family mansion shall be levelled with the ground, and a plain one of brick and mortar built in its place. He rails at every social entertainment and family festivity, and skulks away growling to the ale-house whenever an equipage drives up to the door. Though constantly complaining of the emptiness of his purse, yet he scruples not to spend all his pocket-money in these tavern convocations, and even runs up scores for the liquor over which he preaches about his father's extravagance.

It may readily be imagined how little such thwarting agrees with the old cavalier's fiery temperament. He has become so irritable, from repeated crossings, that the mere mention of retrenchment or reform is a signal for a brawl between him and the tavern oracle. As

the latter is too sturdy and refractory for paternal discipline, having grown out of all fear of the cudgel, they have frequent scenes of wordy warfare, which at times run so high, that John is fain to call in the aid of his son Toin, an officer who has served abroad, but is at present living at home, on half-pay. This last is sure to stand by the old gentleman; right or wrong; likes nothing so much as a racketing roystering life; and is ready, at a wink or nod, to out-sabre, and flourish it over the orator's head, if he dares to array himself against paternal authority.

These family dissensions, as usual, have got abroad, and are rare food for scandal in John's neighbourhood. People begin to look wise, and shake their heads, whenever his affairs are mentioned. They all "hope that matters are not so bad with him as represented; but when a man's own children begin to rail at his extravagance, things must be badly managed. They understand he is mortgaged over head and ears, and is continually dabbling with money-lenders. He is certainly an openhanded old gentleman, but they fear he has lived too fast; indeed, they never knew any good come of this fondness for hunting, racing, revelling, and prizefighting. In short, Mr. Bull's estate is a very fine one, and has been in the family a long while; but for all that, they have known many finer estates come to the hammer."

What is worst of all, is the effect which these pecuniary embarrassments and domestic feuds have had on the poor man himself. Instead of that jolly round corporation, and snug rosy face, which he used to present, he has of late become as shrivelled and shrunk as a frost-bitten apple. His scarlet goldlaced waistcoat, which bellied out so bravely in those prosperous days when he sailed before the wind, now hangs loosely about him like a mainsail in a

calm. His leather breeches are all in folds and wrinkles; and apparently have much ado to hold up the boots that yawn on both sides of his once sturdy legs.

Instead of strutting about, as formerly, with his three-cornered hat on one side; flourishing his cudgel, and bringing it down every moment with a hearty thump upon the ground, looking every one sturdily in the face, and trolling out a stave of a catch or a drinking song; he now goes about whistling thoughtfully to himself, with his head

drooping down, his cudgel tucked under his arm, and his hands thrust to the bottom of his breeches pockets, which are evidently empty.

Such is the plight of honest John Bull at present; yet for all this the old fellow's spirit is as tall and as gallant as ever. If you drop the least expression of sympathy or concern, he takes fire in an instant; swears that he is the richest and stoutest fellow in the country; talks of laying out large sums to adorn his house or to buy another estate; and, with a valiant swagger and grasping of his cudgel, longs exceedingly to have another bout at quarterstaff.

Though there may be something rather whimsical in all this, yet I confess 1 cannot look upon John's situation, without strong feelings of interest. With all his odd humours and obstinate prejudices, he is a sterling hearted old blade. He may not be so wonderfully fine a fellow as he thinks himself, but he is at least twice as good as his neighbours represent him. His virtues are all his own; all plain, home-bred and unaffected. His very faults smack of the raciness of his good qualities. His extravagance savours of his generosity; his quarrelsomeness of his courage; his credulity of his open faith; his vanity of his pride; and his bluntness of his sincerity. They are all the redundancies of a rich and liberal character. He is like his own oak; rough without, but sound and solid within; whose bark

abounds with excrescences in proportion to the growth and grandeur of the timber; and whose branches make a fearful groaning and murmuring in the least storm, from their very magnitude and luxuriance. There is something, too, in the appearance of his old family mansion that is extremely poetical and picturesque; and, as long as it can be rendered comfortably habitable, I should almost tremble to see it meddled with during the present conflict of tastes and opinions. Some of his advisers are no doubt good architects that might be of service; but many I fear are mere levellers, who when they had once got to work with their mattocks on the venerable edifice, would never stop until they had brought it to the ground, and perhaps buried themselves among the ruins. All that I wish is, that John's present troubles may teach him more prudence in future. That he may cease to distress his mind about other people's affairs; that he may give up the fruitless attempt to promote the good of his neighbours, and the peace and happiness of the world, by dint of the cudgel; that he may remain quietly at home; gradually get his house into repair; cultivate his rich estate according to his fancy; husband his income-if he thinks proper; bring his unruly children into order-if he can; renew the jovial scenes of ancient prosperity; and long enjoy, on his paternal lands, a green, an honourable, and a merry old age.

Havanna, May 2, 1819. YOU are not aware, my dear friend, what a task you impose upon me: to write merely a note is a fatiguing operation here, and you desire a letter containing a circumstantial account of all that strikes me in the New World. I will, however, endeavour to satisfy you.

In the first place, I shall inform you, that since I have been here, four-fifths of those who accompanied me from Europe have gradually disappeared. Almost all new-comers are attacked by that dreadful disease, the vomito negro, better known by the name of the yellow fever. Respecting the cause of this malady and the remedies to be employed against it, the physicians of this

country are just as ignorant as myself; their prescriptions, although totally different, invariably produce the same effect-the death of the patient.

The negro women, to the confusion of science, treat the vomito negro with much better success than the faculty: the confidence which they inspire tranquillizes the patient, and nature probably performs the rest. The captains who have brought over these good creatures from the coast of Africa, are themselves obliged to implore their assistance, and owe their lives to persons whom they have torn from their country, and deprived of freedom. This disease kills with terrible dispatch. Woe to him whose conscience is not clear! You cannot be absent two or

Before you enter, you observe on your left a fort, called Morro, under the guns of which all ships are obliged to pass: the eminence on which it is built, its extent, and still more the threatening attitude of its cannon, give to this fort an air that commands respect. On approaching nearer to the entrance, you perceive on the right some small country houses, and in the distance a village called Salua. This prospect is very pleasing. In a few minutes you sail up the narrow channel, which leads into the port, and a prodigious basin of an oval figure suddenly opens upon the view. Here from a thousand to twelve hundred flags of all nations are frequently seen flying at once. Tyre herself could not have afforded a more magnificent spectacle: but another prospect soon puts an end to all reflection and comparison. On the right the city is concealed by a thick wall, above which scarcely any thing can be discovered but a few church steeples, from the heavy appearance of which it may be presumed, that, in the embellishment of this city, the services of architects have been entirely dispensed with. On the left of the port are seen several shouses belonging to the village of La Regla, and in the back-ground a number of trees, the only ornaments of this immense basin. In vain would you look for rocks picturesquely crowned with wood, verdant hills, or buildings rising in the form of an amphitheatre.

The port of Havanna, without doubt the most spacious in America, is gradually decreasing in depth with a rapidity that ought to excite the serious Plattention of the mother country, and of the colony. It is ascertained, that the channel leading to it has, in sixty-nine years, become fifty-nine vares narrower, being now no more than one hundred and fifty vares in breadth. In the year 1743, it was twenty-four feet deep; at present it is only seventeen. In the same year the depth of water at the entrance of the harbour was sixty feet; now it is but eighteen. The evil is known, and the remedies for it would doubtless be extremely easy; but firmness and perseverance are requisite for their application, and these seem to be wanting as well in the officers of government as in private individuals.

Before I leave the harbour, I must inform you that a machine has been erected here for masting ships, which is said to be very ingenious, and excites the admiration of foreign seamen. It

was constructed upwards of twenty years since, after the plans of Pietro Gatel, a native of Catalonia, who, however, was deprived of the honour and profit of the invention by the then governor. He could not even obtain permission to erect his machine; vexation and want soon afterwards consigned him to the grave, and his widow and children were left at the Havanna in abject indigence.

Now that you are acquainted with the harbour, permit me to conduct you into the city. As soon as you have landed, you perceive a narrow arch that leads into it. From the beach to this gate the distance is ten paces. At the first step you feel yourself sinking into a quagmire, but you keep up your spirits with the idea, that, when this space is passed you, shall find firm footing. When once through the gate, you discover your mistake; to the right, to the left, and before you, there is nothing but a swamp, and the straight streets merely indicate that you must not expect to be in the dry till you have reached the house you are in quest of. The streets are not paved; there is no drain for the water; the ground continues in the state in which it was originally created. The Havanna may be said to be one vast sewer, from which pestilential exhalations are incessantly rising. As soon as you enter the place, you are assailed by an intolerable stench, which adheres to, and does not again quit you.

You advance through dirty narrow streets, lined with low houses, the unglazed windows of which are only closed with wooden shutters. Their populousness merely serves to aggravate the painful impression: thousands of whites and blacks, mostly covered with rags, excite disgust in the newly-arrived stranger; his brilliant expectations vanish, and all that he sees is totally different from what he anticipated. The whole way you have to defend your face from swarms of muskitoes, and your ears from the everlasting din of eight or ten bells. One tolls for a dying person, another for a funeral, a third for divine service. At length you reach your inn, which you would not take to be such, unless you were told so. A prodigious hall, as large as our barns, and almost as bare, is the public room; the small cells of bed chambers are, if any thing, still more naked. Here you find yourself without any other furniture than a truckle-bed. You throw yourself upon it, rather in order to see and hear no more, than to sleep, Vain hope! The