ing the "Hall of Science" a visit, in which
establishment she usually lectured. The address she delivered on the
evening I attended had been previously delivered on the fourth of July, in
the city of Philadelphia; but, at the request of a numerous party of
"Epicureans," she was induced to repeat it. The hall might contain perhaps
ten or twelve hundred persons, and on this occasion it was filled to
excess, by a well-dressed audience of both sexes.

The person of Frances Wright is tall and commanding--her features are
rather masculine, and the melancholy cast which her countenance ordinarily
assumes gives it rather a harsh appearance--her dark chestnut hair hangs
in long graceful curls about her neck; and when delivering her lectures,
her appearance is romantic and unique.

She is a speaker of great eloquence and ability, both as to the matter of
her orations, and the manner of their delivery. The first sentence she
utters rivets your attention; and, almost unconsciously, your sympathies
are excited, and you are carried onward by the reasonings and the
eloquence of this disciple of the Gardens. The impression made on the
audience assembled on that occasion was really wonderful. Once or twice,
when I could withdraw my attention from the speaker, I regarded the
countenances of those around me, and certainly never witnessed any thing
more striking. The high-wrought interest depicted in their faces, added to
the breathless silence that reigned throughout the building, made the
spectacle the most imposing I ever beheld. She was the Cumaean Sibyl
delivering oracles and labouring under the inspiration of the God of
Day.--This address was chiefly of a political character, and she took care
to flatter the prejudices of the Americans, by occasionally recurring to
the advantages their country possessed over European states--namely, the
absence of country gentlemen, and of a church establishment; for to the
absence of these the Americans attribute a large portion of the very great
degree of comfort they enjoy.

Near Hoboken, about three miles up North river, at the opposite side to
New York, a match took place between a boat rowed by two watermen, and a
canoe paddled by two Indians. The boat was long and narrow, similar in
form to those that ply on the Thames. The canoe was of the lightest
possible construction, being composed of thin hickory ribs covered with
bark. In calm weather, the Indians propel these vessels through the water