In traversing this once superb town, what a scene of desolation every where presented itself to my contemplation! On the site where elegance and luxury had united all their powers to delight the voluptuary, remained nothing but ruins. On these were erected temporary houses for the American merchants and little shops of the natives, which but exhibited the devastation with additional horror. The great street still contained the walls of many superb edifices of five and six stories high, and most beautiful structure; highly-finished gilt balustrades, in some instances, yet remained. Nor was this all—in different parts of the general ruin the skeletons of their possessors were mingled with the broken walls— “There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, “The shelter-seeking peasant rears his shed; “And, wondering man could want the larger pile, “Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.” Through this dreadful scene I passed to behold a review, of the real grandeur of which I had not the least conception. There were two thousand officers out, Generals and Ensigns, all carrying arms—yet with the utmost regularity and attention to rank—none of that disregard which had marked the leisure of the preceding day being the least evident. Each general officer had a demi-brigade, which went through the manual exercise with a degree of expertness I had seldom before witnessed, and they performed excellently well several manœuvres applicable to their method of fighting. At _a whistle_ a whole brigade ran three or four hundred yards, and then, separating, threw themselves flat on the ground, changing to their backs and sides, and all the time keeping up a strong fire till recalled—after this they formed again into their wonted regularity; and this manœuvre is executed with such facility and precision, as totally to prevent cavalry from charging them in bushy and hilly countries. Indeed, such complete subordination prevailed, so much promptness and dexterity, as must astonish an European who had known any thing of their previous situation. After the review I returned to the city, to continue my solitary walk through the remaining monuments of human ferocity, and indulge in contemplating the vanity of all sublunary establishments. I was brooding over scenes where Fancy herself had once been satiated, when I arrived at a large square, in the centre of which was a considerable eminence, and a seat on the top;—there were two centinels to guard it—of whom I enquired if I might ascend the steps? They answered in the affirmative, but cautioned me not to touch the _Cap of Liberty_ which crowned it, for it was SACRED TO SANTHONAX AND POLVEREL! My curiosity induced me to ascend; when I perused, immediately under the cap, a showy inscription in French, of which I do not exactly recollect the idiom, not daring to take a copy, but it was to the following purport—