_15th._--I received a farewell visit from Mr. Thompson, late of Boston, who states that he finds the inducements to emigrate much fewer and smaller than he expected. Society, as it at present exists, shews great want of organization, great want of religion, honour, and virtue, and the country generally seems destitute of English comforts and advantages. Yet he is now about to make a commercial attempt, by way of experiment, which, if not successful, he will return into his former sphere, well content to remain in it, without again wandering five miles from it. He believes that none of the tables in America afford the comforts of an English table. He thinks that the government in its neglect of seminaries entails imperfection on the people. A bitter sectarian {469} spirit prevails, and is more vicious than in England, and there is a miserable, petty feeling of aristocracy. It seems to him that republicanism is suited only for an infant people. This evening I took my farewell of the claret club, the focus of liberal principles and of friendly feelings. _Sunday, 16th._--Accompanied by Mr. Elliot and the Rev. J. Wright, I drove to Mount Eagle, the hired seat of Ferdinand Fairfax, Esq., on our way to Mount Vernon. This gentleman, an English lord, gave us an introductory letter, penned on the top of a post, to the supreme Judge, Washington, who received us coldly and reluctantly before he read the letter, and said, "I do not like to see people on this day, but you may walk round." He then turned away while Mr. Elliot muttered, "We consider it no act of impiety to visit the tomb of General Washington, and thus to come on pilgrimage to the shrine of your illustrious ancestor." On reading the letter his severity relaxed, and he sent two of his servants to conduct us to the tomb, through the house and gardens, and to point out whatever was curious. The road, through the estate, leading to the mansion, is rough and worn into gullies. Every thing bespeaks the neglect and apathy of the present owner. The land is poor; the estate is separated on all sides by a rail fence, that is, rails split and mortised into posts; and the gardens are surrounded {470} with evergreen cedar fences, all of which are the work of the late General, for whom every thing here seems to mourn. The house contains nothing curious save the huge old iron key of the French Bastile, kept in a glass case, and the recollection of its being once the abode of General Washington. Instead of carpets, you see Indian matting on the floors. The furniture is mean and common, and was brought here by Judge Washington.