We were interested more than once in attending divine service in the chapel of the Sailor’s Snug Harbor—a noble building, the gift of private munificence, where the bronzed features and neat, tranquil appearance of these favored sons of the sea, spoke at once of past hardships upon the briny wave and of the unbroken comfort of their present state of repose. The cliffs and vales of this enchanted island are crowned with the elegant mansions of the merchant princes. Among them are those of the brothers Nesmyth, Mr. Anthon, Mr. Aspinwall, Mr. Morgan, and others, that I greatly admired, without knowing the names of their occupants. That of Mr. Comstock exhibits a model of perfect taste. All the appointments within—the pictures, vases, and furniture of white and gold, bespeak Parisian elegance, while the grounds and conservatory are attractive; and in the centre of a rich area of turf, a dial points out the hours to which beauty and fragrance give wings. The residence of Mr. Jones, at “The Cedars,” has a very extensive prospect, and is embellished by highly cultivated gardens of several acres, loaded with fruits and flowers; and also, by an interesting apiary, aviary, and poultry establishment, where hundreds of domestic fowls, of the finest varieties, revel in prosperity. The habitation of George Griswold, Esq. is princely, and of a truly magnificent location. While in an unfinished state, the prospect from the windows excited the following effusion: GRISWOLD HILL.