cab, and the rapidity half that of a cab. Under these
circumstances, I think I am justified in saying that there is no
mode of getting about in New York to see anything.

And now as to the other charge against New York, of there being
nothing to see. How should there be anything there to see of
general interest? In other large cities--cities as large in name
as New York--there are works of art, fine buildings, ruins, ancient
churches, picturesque costumes, and the tombs of celebrated men.
But in New York there are none of these things. Art has not yet
grown up there. One or two fine figures by Crawford are in the
town, especially that of the Sorrowing Indian, at the rooms of the
Historical Society; but art is a luxury in a city which follows but
slowly on the heels of wealth and civilization. Of fine buildings--
which, indeed, are comprised in art--there are none deserving
special praise or remark. It might well have been that New York
should ere this have graced herself with something grand in
architecture; but she has not done so. Some good architectural
effect there is, and much architectural comfort. Of ruins, of
course, there can be none--none, at least, of such ruins as
travelers admire, though perhaps some of that sort which disgraces
rather than decorates. Churches there are plenty, but none that
are ancient. The costume is the same as our own; and I need hardly
say that it is not picturesque. And the time for the tombs of
celebrated men has not yet come. A great man's ashes are hardly of
value till they have all but ceased to exist.

The visitor to New York must seek his gratification and obtain his
instruction from the habits and manners of men. The American,
though he dresses like an Englishman, and eats roast beef with a