From the hour that we landed in America, to the present moment, the voices of men, the journals, and the public bodies, have been occupied in celebrating the work of national gratitude. The visit of La Fayette, his ancient services, his appearance, his sayings, his tact, his recollection of, and meeting with veterans whom he had known under other and more adverse circumstances, are the constant themes of press and tongue. The universal sentiment, and the various scenes to which it has given birth, have not failed to elicit many sparks of that sort of feeling which is creditable to human nature, since it proves that man with all his selfishness and depravity, is the repository of a vast deal that is generous and noble. Two or three little anecdotes have come to my ears that may serve to amuse, if not to edify you.

One of the familiar, and certainly not the least touching manners, chosen by the Americans, to evince their attachment to La Fayette, who has been well termed the “nation's guest,” is by making offerings of the labours of their own hands, in the shape of a thousand trifling articles that may affect his personal comfort, or at least manifest their zeal in its behalf. Among others, it seems that a hatter had even gone so far as to send a hat, or hats, to France, as his portion of these little contributions.