The Bay of New York looked beautiful on the morning of our arrival (May 16th, 1849). It was a bright, warm, splendid morning; the sun shone gloriously, and the sky reminded me of Italy. We took leave of Captain Judkins, the obliging and excellent captain of “The Canada;” but before we went on shore, we witnessed the disembarkation of the mails–it is quite an interesting spectacle. There were about thirty thousand letters – white-winged messengers of peace!–one could not but rejoice at the sight. Those numerous letters of business, of friendship, of mutual interest, seemed so many links uniting the two countries in a concord not to be easily, if ever, broken.

One of the first things that struck us on arriving in the city of New York– the Empress City of the West–was, of course, Broadway. It is a noble street, and has a thoroughly bustling, lively, and somewhat democratic air. New York is certainly handsome, and yet there is something about it that gives one the idea of a half-finished city, and this even in Broadway itself; for the street was literally littered with all imaginable rubbish which, we should imagine from appearances, is usually shot in that celebrated thoroughfare; indeed it seems a sort of preserve for this species of game. Piles of timber, mounds of bricks, mountains of packing-cases, pyramids of stones, and stacks of goods, were observable on all sides.