Mr. Haywood is a man of great elegance. His deportment and address are very distinguished, and he is perfect in all the recognised conventionalisms of polished life. No one understands better how to render social intercourse agreeable; he encourages amusement, enjoys conversation, both grave and gay, and his compliments are always gratifying, for they are in good taste, and never exceed the “modesty of nature.” He speaks excellent English, his enunciation is fluent, the liquids being fully articulated, and he possesses one of those musical voices so usually heard in southern climates. I have observed that the vibration of the letter S is somewhat more audible and prolonged in the dialect of the Southern States of America than it is either in England or in the other sections of the Union. Without knowing that such is the fact, I should imagine Mr. Haywood to be descended from the blood of the cavaliers; his handsome features, his scrupulous attention to dress, and especially the natural (perhaps somewhat negligent) though graceful ease of his manners, combined with his chivalrous devotion to the fair sex, and success in the drawing room, all remind me of the descriptions we read of those high bred spirits. I quote Mr. Haywood, therefore, as an admirable specimen, among many, of that Chesterfield refinement and tact which are so frequently supposed by Europeans to have as yet no existence in America.