obacco, which had all the vigour and healthy appearance of that which I
have seen grow in _poor_ America. On my way here, (like the countryman
in London, in gazing about) I missed my road; but a civil, and, in
appearance, a substantial farmer, conducted us half a league over the
fields, and marked out the course to get into it again, without
returning directly back, a circumstance I much hate, though perhaps it
might have been the shorter way. However, before I gained the high road,
I stumbled upon a private one, which led us into a little village
pleasantly situated, and inhabited by none other but the poorest
peasants; whose tattered habits, wretched houses, and smiling
countenances, convinced me, that chearfulness and contentment shake
hands oftener under thatched than painted roofs. We found one of these
villagers as ready to boil our tea-kettle, provide butter, milk, &c. as
we were for our breakfasts; and during the preparation of it, I believe
every man, woman, and child of the hamlet, was come down to _look at
us_; for beside that wonderful curiosity common to this whole nation,
the inhabitants of this village had never before seen an Englishman;
they had heard indeed often of the country, they said, and that it was
_un pays tres riche_. There was such a general delight in the faces of
every age, and so much civility, I was going to say politeness, shewn
to us, that I caught a temporary chearfulness in this village, which I
had not felt for some months before, and which I intend to carry with
me. I therefore took out my guittar, and played till I set the whole
assembly in motion; and some, in spite of their wooden shoes, and others
without any, danced in a manner not to be seen among our English
peasants. They had "shoes like a sauce-boat," but no "steeple-clock'd
hose." While we breakfasted, one of the villagers fed my horse with some
fresh-mowed hay, and it was with some difficulty I could prevail upon
him to be paid for it, because the trifle I offered was much more than
his _Court of Conscience_ informed him it was worth. I could moralize
here a little; but I will only ask you, in which state think you man is
best; the untaught man, in that of nature, or the man whose mind is
enlarged by education and a knowledge of the world? The behaviour of
the inhabitants of this little hamlet had a very forcible effect upon
me; because it brought me back to my earlier days, and reminded me of
the reception I met with in Am