I have frequently spoken of the difference between commercial towns and capitals; a distinction that you, who never saw any other than towns of the former class, will not readily comprehend, but which it is essential to know in order to understand Europe. I had the same embarrassment on first coming to this hemisphere, for it is quite common here to speak of our towns as being _purely commercial_. A short experience, however, has shown me so much, that there is nothing I now perceive sooner, or which strikes me with greater force, than the peculiarities of these places that are entirely devoted to trade. If you ask me what these peculiarities are beyond the outward signs of commerce, I shall answer, a certain absence of taste, a want of leisure and of tone; a substitution of bustle for elegance, care for enjoyment, and show for refinement. Leghorn and Marseilles have betrayed these visible signs of their pursuits more particularly after a long residence in Florence; though neither of these towns is so obnoxious to the charge as any one of our own large maritime towns. I think, however, that all our own great towns, while they are unquestionably provincial, as any one will allow who has lived in a real capital, have also many of the distinctive marks of the better towns of Europe that these have not. When a European speaks of New York as a provincial town, notwithstanding, defer to his greater experience (unless he happen to be cockney;) for, rely on it, such is peculiarly the character and appearance of your Gotham.