We went on to the Battery: this is a large promenade by the shore of the North River; very extensive rows and clusters of trees in every part, and a large walk along the shore, almost over the water, gives you such a fresh, delightful air, that every evening in summer it is crowded with company. Here too they have music playing on the water in boats of a moonlight night. Last night we went to a garden[50] a little out of town, Mount Vernon garden,—this too is surrounded by boxes of the same kind, with a walk on top of them. You can see the gardens all below; but ’tis a _summer playhouse_—pit and boxes, stage and all, but open on top; from this there are doors opening into the garden, which is similar to Columbia Garden, lamps among the trees, large mineral fountain, delightful swings, two at a time,—I was in raptures as you may imagine, and if I had not grown sober before I came to this wonderful place ’twould have turned my head. But I have filled my letter and not told you half—of the Park—the public buildings,—I have so much to tell you, and of those that have called on me—I have no room to say half. Yesterday Mrs. Henderson came again to see me and brought two of my Aunt King’s most intimate friends to introduce—Mrs. Delafield[51] and Miss Lucy Bull. Mr. and Mrs. Delafield are Uncle and Aunt’s very intimate friends, she is called the most elegant woman in New York. I was delighted with her and very much gratified at Mrs. Henderson’s attention in coming again on purpose to introduce them, they were so attentive, so polite, and Mrs. Delafield said so many things of Aunt King, how delighted they would be to find me settled near them, how much I should love them and everything of the kind, that was very gratifying to me. Miss Denning has been to see me 3 or 4 times; several invitations to tea, but we declined as our family friends were visiting us this week. This morning we go to make calls. I have got a list of names that most frightens me. All our brothers and sisters say—“Why, Eliza does not seem at all like a stranger to us,”—indeed I feel as easy and happy among them as possible, which astonishes me, as I have been so unaccustomed to Quakers, but their manners are so affectionate and soft, you cannot help it. Mrs. King (sister) is a beauty—She would be very handsome in a different dress; she looks so much like Alicia Wyer, you would love her,—just such full sweet blue eyes, charming complexion and sweet expression, and her little quaker cap gives her such an innocent, simple appearance, I imagine Alicia with a quaker dress—and you will see her exactly. Adieu. I am expecting to hear from you every day. Mr. Bowne is out, would send a great deal of love if he were here. Kiss dear little Mary and all the children. I never go by a toy shop, or confectionery, without longing to have them here. Love to all.