Philadelphia is universally accused of possessing less hospitality than any other city in the United States; and it may be allowed to deserve this reproach. The excuse of the inhabitants is, the great concourse there is always here of strangers, who would too greatly occupy the time of their hosts, if too much encouragement were given to visits. The true reason is, the incessant attention that is paid in Philadelphia, more than in any other part of the world, to the accumulation of wealth; which passion is not diminished even by the possession of the greatest fortune. To mend his circumstances is the predominant idea of every man in this country. This mercantile notion, of necessity, confines within himself the man whom it influences, and gives him no time nor taste for the pleasures of society. What is justly called society does not exist in this country. The vanity of wealth is common enough. The rich man loves to shew the stranger his splendid furniture, his fine English glass, and exquisite china. But when the stranger has once viewed the parade in a ceremonious dinner, he is dismissed for some other new comer, who has not yet seen the magnificence of the house, nor tasted the old Madeira that has been twice or thrice to the East Indies. And then a new face is always more welcome than an old one, to him who has nothing to say to either. The real state of society at Philadelphia is included in invitations to great dinners, and tea, to all who arrive from Europe-English, French, inhabitants of every country, men of every class, and of every kind of character, philosophers, priests, literati, princes, dentists, wits, and ideots; but the next day the idolized stranger is not known in the street, except he be wealthy, espeially in money; when, indeed, the politeness of the citizens of Philadelphia continues to exist as long as the stranger can purchase estates, and even beyond that term; for the homage paid to wealth is a worship in which all sects unite. To the ordinary defects of society in Philadel. phia, is to be added the intemperance of politics. The English influence prevails in the first circles, and prevails with great intolerance. Persons of wealth here, who caressed the agen:s of Robespierre, when that monster extirpated all the wealth his power could reach, are the avowed enemies of France, now that her government inclines to mildness and humanity. It is not denied that the American commerce has suffered greatly from French privateers; and we cannot therefore be surprized, either at the illhumour of the merchants of Philadelphia, or their mode of expressing it. Having given this sketch of the temper of the people of Philadelphia, I am compelled to say, However correct it may be, that many families are to be found who form exceptions, and are neither tainted with the general views of this place, nor inflamed with the present spirit of party. What I have said is without ill-will. I But I have no personal complaint to make. speak without reserve: for why should I write, if it were not to communicate truth? Notwithstanding the defective state of Society in Philadelphia, this city is perhaps the most agreeable of the United States for a foreigner. The residence of the members of Congress will enable him to gather information on the different parts of this interesting country; and, in fact, to travel through the different states with great advantage to his enquiries. Although in Philadelphia, as throughout America, no one is sufficiently free from employment to give himself wholly to letters or the sciences, this city contains, more than any other, persons who culti vate them, and whose society is extremely interesting, when these subjects are discussed.There is a philosophical society here, and a large and valuable library. The profusion and luxury of Philadelphia, on great days, at the tables of the wealthy, in their equipages, and the dresses of their wives and daughters, are, as I have observed, extreme. I have seen balls on the President's birth-day where the splendour of the rooms, and the variety and richness of the dresses did not suffer in comparison with Europe; and it must be acknowledged, that the beauty of the American ladies has the advantage in the comparison. The young women of Philadelphia are accomplished in different degrees, but beauty is general with them. They want the ease and fashion of English women; but the brilliancy of their complexion is infinitely superior. Even when they grow old, they are still handsome; and it would be no exaggeration to say, in the numerous assemblies of Philadelphia, it is impossible to meet with what is called a plain woman. As to the young men they for the most part seem to belong to another species. Wealth makes all the distinction of classes in Philadelphia. The great merchants, and the lawyers who are at the head of their profession, hold the first rank. Different classes very rarely mingle together. The Quakers live among themselves, and in a retired manner. But gay colours please the young Quaker-ladies; and, are indeed great enemies of the sect. The toilette is the subject of much uneasiness to the old people, whether prohibited or tolerated by them. But whether prohibited or not, the young and handsome Quaker-girls will sacrifice to the toilette, and call themselves Half quakers; and, it must be confessed, that they are the greatest favourites with our sex. The young men among the Quakers, who would make themselves agreeable to the female deserters, powder and shape their dress accordingly; and the sect is continually losing some of those that should be its pillars, by the effect of a ribband or gown. Profusion is not confined to the higher ranks. It spreads among the servants; and even reaches to the negroes. Both one and the other give their balls, which are destitute of the charming simplicity of the fetes of our country. Variety of refreshments, good suppers, and fine dresses, distinguish them. A female negro servant, whose wages are one dollar per week, will, at these balls, have a dress that costs sixty dollars. They never go but in coaches to these balls, which are very frequent. On Sundays the public-houses in the environs of the city are crowded with labourers and little shop-keepers, who. frequently come in a chair, with their whole family, and will expend from three to four dollars for the day's entertainment. It is not to hoard that the Americans are rapacious; their improvidence has still all the character of colonists. There is a theatre at Philadelphia, in despite of the many and vehement petitions presented against it by the Quakers and dissenting ministers. It is generally crowded; not that the actors are good, but it is a place where people can assemble and exhibit themselves. There are from twenty to twenty-five stage coaches, that either go from or arrive at Philadelphia every day. They are mean and incommodious carriages; but are light, and travel very quickly. The horses are good in Pennsylvania; and there are sets belonging to some of the stage coaches, that are not surpassed by any in Europe. The inhabitants of Philadelphia, like those of the whole state of Pennsylvania, are a mixture of all the nations of Europe. The English are in the greatest number. The counties of Pennsylvania, beyond the Susquehannah, and at a greater distance from Philadelphia than the rest, are little influenced by the political opinions of the capital, which, as I have said, are in favour of England. DESCRIPTION OF A SUNDAY AT PARIS. What will appear singular to you is, that they do not entirely neglect religious duties, though more devoted to pleasure than the service of God. The church, it is true, for the gay and fashionable, is a place where they may display the elegance of their dress, and the graces of their figures; where they may draw upon them the timid looks of beauty and innocence, who, "I PROMISED you long since, my friend, to send an exact account, as far as my knowledge extended, of the customs and manners of the inhabitants of this celebrated city; as it would require more time than I can spare, to treat at once of every peculiarity belonging to the French nation, I will begin by writing a short description of the manner in which the Sabbath is spent at Paris. You think, perhaps, that I confine my-still ignorant of the ways of the world, come with self to very circumscribed limits, but I assure you, you are much mistaken; you judge from custom, and imagine that the decent manner in which the Sunday is kept at London, would afford but very small grounds of description; learn then, that the Sabbath, that day of holy meditations, serious thoughts, and religious duties, so severe in its appearance, so full of silent gran deur, and awful stillness, in the English metropolis, wears at Paris, the garb of pleasure, and the smile of worldly joy. Hardly have the bells announced the wished for dawn of that day of festivity, than the gay votaries of amusement, which compose the largest part of the community, instead of assuming the serious look and dignified appearance of our good countrymen, put on the robes of vanity, and exhaust all the treasures of fashion to deck their persons, and celebrate with more decency (according to the acceptation of the word), the Sabbath of the Lord. devotion in their hearts to the sacred house of prayer. There you see the distinguished females of the day dressed in the most sumptuous manner, more suited to the play-house than the church, presenting with the smile of persuasion on their countenances, a purse half filled by their own generosity; there you hear these soft accents, "for the wants of the church," pronounced with such an interesting expression, that yielding to the charms of beauty, more heightened by the beneficent motives for which they are unveiled, even the miser's heart is warmed into generosity; and a profusion of gold fills the purse of the seducing Quetcuse. That office was undertaken almost every Sunday at St. Roch, by the beauty of the age, the celebrated Madame Recamier; and that church was then overflowing with the choicest company, and the collection more than doubled that of any other cathedral. Divine service is over at one o'clock, and then pleasure alone sways every heart, and fills the city with amusement and joy. Public gardens, such as the Thuilleries, and les Champs Elysées, are crowded with beaux and belles, who strive by their elegance, gaiety, and smiling countenances, to attract the admiration of those who, not having the faculty of equalling their pomp, follow afar off the steps of fashion, imitating, as much as lies within their power, what they envy in their hearts. The Thuilleries, on a Sunday, present a most brilliant prospect, not only of statues, the chef d'œuvres of art, of flowers and trees, adorned by the bountiful hand of nature with the most lively colours, but of the noblest works of creation, arrayed by the hand of taste in the light, airy robes of simplicity, walking in the bloom of youth, and breathing joy, rapture and delight. In summer, an alley composed of orange trees, is the favourite walk; on both sides there are marble seats, where whole parties enjoy the charms of conversation, which can never slacken for want of materials, since every person that passes awakes a new topic, and every dress and countenance affords a wide field of observation, criticism, and praise, to those who will take the trouble of exploring it. Though the Thuilleries and the Champs Elysées be the most frequented and fashionable promenades, there is a difference between the companies which enliven them with its presence that I will not pass unnoticed. The Thuilleries are crowded with the new favourites of fortune, those who have elevated themselves upon the ruins of the ancient government, and who, like the flower that follows the rays of the sun, delights to contemplate the palace which contains their powerful supporter. The Elysian Fields, as more removed from a place that must awaken such painful recollections, are the constant haunts of the ancient noblemen who have submitted to the present government, without losing their attachment for their ancient monarchs. After the Thuilleries and the Elysian Fields, the most fashionable places of public resort are the Luxembourg and the Boulevards; both present, on a Sunday especially, the same kind of company, and the same scenes of dissipation, as those I have already described, only on a smaller scale. Towards four or five o'clock the promenade is forsaken for the social enjoyments of the table; and during a repast enlivened by the most brillint conversation, new parties and plans of amuseinent are formed for the evening. Do you wish to go to the play? more than twenty play-houses are open. Opera, tragedy, melo-drama, serious comedy, farces, pantomimes, spread all their allurements before you, and bewilder your choice. || There Leys, the Braham of Paris, pours forth the mellow strains of expressive harmony; Dupont and Vestris display the enchanting graces of the dance. Here Talma sets the soul on fire, and Duchesnois melts the heart to love. Pleasure lies in wait on every side; if she does not entice you into the play-house, where a brilliant and numerous audience is always collected, you hear her voice in every gale. Heart-enlivening music floats on every breeze, and leads your steps, as by a magical impulse, towards the delightful gardens of the Hameau de Chantilly, Tivoli, Frescati, &c. &c. There you find a blooming assembly of youths of both sexes; now they trip the cheerful country dance, and now they glide gracefully along in the slow majestic walse. There crowd all the youths and elegantes who prefer the enjoyment of innocent and simple delights, under the pure starry vault of heaven, where coolness breathes new agility into their limbs, and braces their sinews with new vigour for the dance, to the pompous charms of midnight balls and masquerades. They advance with joy-sparkling eyes, light hearts, and smiling lips, and augment the beauty of the scenes which they come to enjoy. Were you at Paris, and did you frequent these abodes of pleasure, you would imagine that you were transported on the wings of a pleasant dream into those fairy regions of bliss, where a youthful imagination often delights to sport. The music that swells in light cheerful notes from every bower, the airy shapes that dance on the green, the innumerable lamps that give splendour to the shades of night, the brilliant fire-works that suddenly illume the dark blue of the sky, and seem to arise from the placid waters of a spreading lake, the accents of joy resounding in every direction, would complete the illusion, and, I am afraid, make a convert of my friend, to the manner of keeping the Sabbath at Paris. However, it must be owned, that even in this dissipated city there are some to be found who still think that meditation and prayer would be fitter for Christians than pleasure and gaiety, but I leave you to decide. What I can affirm to you is, that I never yet saw any excesses committed on that sacred day; and that if dancing be mora innocent than drinking, the French people have an advantage over ours, who often disgrace the Sunday by intoxication, and, the result of it, riot. I am afraid I have tired your patience by this long account of a Parisian Sunday; yet I have much more to say, and, did time permit me, I would explain more minutely what is the behaviour and occupation of every class of people on the day of the Lord. PUBLIC RECREATIONS OF PARIS. We have been favoured with the following Communication from Mr. King, the Musical Composer, written during his residence in Paris. THE public recreations of a great city, are chiefly comprehended in its Theatres, Gardens, and Promenades; the former for the public resort in winter, and the latter for their recreation in summer. In Paris, however, the Theatres are open both in summer and winter; neither heat or cold having the least effect on their attraction. As the Theatre is the favourite amusement of the Parisians, as indeed of every people, I shall more particularly endeavour to review the present state of the Theatres in this metropolis. But I first beg leave to call the attention of the reader to the lighter recreation of the Garden and Promenade. PROMENADES. This city is full of public Promenades. The most fashionable and frequented are, the Jardin des Thuilleries, and Jardin des Plants; and the most dissipated, the Gardens of the Palais Royal. Again the most celebrated Public Gardens of amusement, are those of Frescati, Tivoli, and Chantilly. In giving soine description of these, the nature of the many others, which are not without their beauties and attractions, will, no doubt, in some measure be understood. JARDIN DES THUILLERIES. The Gardens of the Thuilleries are extremely beautiful. They are at all times open to the public, and are for ever full of company. These Gardens are decorated with the finest orange trees, and richly ornamented by numerous vases and statues, recently brought from Italy, or collected from various parts of France. The Gardens of the Thuilleries, like those of Kensington, are in general the resort of the most fashionable company. Here are constantly hundreds of people sitting under the trees in chairs, engaged in conversation, contemplation, or in reading the news-papers. If the people, however, converse here, it is seldom about politics; if they would contemplate, the National Palace is before their eyes; or if they search the public papers, they will not find the public sentiment. Thus the Gardens of the Thuilleries, though elegant, chearful, and gay, are somewhat too great a type of the government to gratify those, who are not disposed to believe it the best in the world. On the evening of every national festival, a grand concert is given publicly in these Gardens; which, as well as the National Palace, are most brilliantly illuminated. Being present at one of the national spectacles, on the 14th of July, I could not help believing this to be some large public garden, such as their Tivoli, or our Vauxhall; so much did this resemble them, in point of the mukitude being at home. The unexpected appearance, however, of Bonaparte, who came into the balcony to pay his respects to the people, during the concert, soon reminded us that we were then before the National Palace. These continual festivals, of which the Gardens of the Thuilleries are the grand spot of celebration, may be highly diverting to the people; but in the eyes of a stranger, they certainly lessen the consequence, both of the National Palace and the Government. The Gardens of the Thuilleries lead immediately into the Place de la Concorde, and this again into the Champs Elysées. These three places are therefore nearly the same thing, except in division, and nominal distinction, and form altogether a most extensive and magnificent promenade. PLACE DE LA CONCORDE. In the centre of this grand square, is the precise spot where Louis the XVIth expired. It seems to have been cruelly chosen, that the unfortunate Monarch might, through the opening avenues of trees, catch a last view of his earthly palace, before he ceased to exist. This spot, from which such extraordinary consequences have en sued, is now marked out by a few wretched pieces of wood, exactly resembling a pound for strayed horses. CHAMPS ELYSEES. These are most extensive fields, full of the finest trees, among which are several places of public amusement. The whole is laid out in grand avenues, or roads for riding and walking, CHAMP DE MARS. This momentous spot lies on the other side of the river Seine, nearly facing the Champs Elysées. This place is, however, only the resort of the people on grand reviews, or some other public occasion. JARDIN DES PLANTS. This extensive Garden is the National Botanical Nursery. It is filled with the most rare and scarce flowers, plants, and shrubs, and trees of every description; and is a complete epitome of the vegetable world. In this Garden stands the National Museum of Natural History; also the Public Menagerie, containing a complete collection of wild beasts, and other curious living animals. No pains or expence have been spared by the government in the embellishment and support of this place; which, like all other national establishments, is freely open to the public. GARDENS AND PALAIS ROYAL. This place has not been mentioned before, coming more immediately under the description of a public promenade. The Palace Royal may be justly called the Palace of the Public, by which it is chiefly occupied. This building is in the form of an ob long square. Round each of its sides are piazzas; and under these a most beautiful display of shops. The middle of the square or garden is ornamented with shrubs and orange trees; and the whole is a never-ending promenade of every description of character. The Palais Royal is well calculated for those who do not think; for those who would spend money; and for those who would kill time. But the higher classes of society would as little think of the promenade of the Palais Royal, as people of fashion in London of the Piazza of CoventGarden. The Palais Royal is a world within itself, and may justly be declared the public focus of fully and dissipation. PUBLIC GARDENS OF AMUSEMENT. FRESCATI. The rooms and gardens of this place are open every evening; the admission is free; and the company the best in Paris. The intention of this place is similar to our Ranelagh. TIVOLI, Or, the Parisian Vauxhall, is the popular resort of all ranks of people. In one part of the Garden is the orchestra; in another, public dances; here, fire works; there, puppet-shews; and every where some object to divert the million. CHANTILLI Is a delightful garden, and like Tivoli has its music, dancing, and fire-works. This place is a favourite resort of the public, and is toujour gai. THEATRES. There are upwards of twenty Theatres in this metropolis. These are for ever open, and constantly full. That such a number of Theatres should continually find audiences, may appear astonishing; but the surprise will lessen when we reflect that the Theatre is the idol of the Parisian; with him nothing can be put in competition with the Spectacle. The Theatre, thus constituting so material a branch of the public recreation, no less excites the peculiar attention of the Government. The state visibly turns every wheel of the stage, of which in fact it is absolute manager. None of the Theatres in Paris are upon so magnificent a scale as those of the Opera, and Drury-lane, in London. Still, however, the Parisian Theatres are capacious, and well calculated both for seeing and hearing. The Theatres at Paris are lighted by means of a large circular chandelier, suspended from the ceiling; and illuminated by double, or triple circles of patent lamps. These chandeliers give a regular and steady light, without putting out the eyes of the audience, or detracting too much from the brilliancy of the scene. In the lobbies of every Theatre, is affixed a printed code of laws, for the order of the house. And against every box that is lett, is hung on the outside of its door, a litle board, with the following words: Lege loué. After this notice, the box is considered as private. Mili ary are stationed throughout every Theatre in Paris. The guard at the Opera and Theatre Française, is particularly strong. These are the favourite Theatres of Bonaparte. Betore giving a particular description of the principal Theatres; it may be necessary previously to consider their general state, as to au dience, actors, orchestra, composers, singers, dancers, scenery, and other circumstances. AUDIENCE. The gratification of an audience must be in proportion to its discrimination. Judgment is by no incans wanting in a Parisian audience. It may perhaps be necessary to state the grounds of this observa ion. The principal Theatres expressly profess the cultivation solely of one branch of the Scenic Art: consequently each has a greater chance of arriving at perfection. The particular province of each individual Theatre, being clearly ascertained, the general bill of fare is at once unequivocal. The public, therefore, having the choice, will naturally prefer that particular species of performance best adapted to their taste and under. standing. Audiences consequently fall insensibly into their proper stations. And this, being nearly on a level among themselves in point of judg ment, are the more capable of applauding, or condemning with proper discretion and dis cernment. ACTORS. Having so many great actors in our country, we naturally turn an inquiring eye towards those |