{34} During my tour, thus far, I formed many valuable acquaintances.
Here I may remark that from Albany to the remote interior of New-York, there is, generally speaking, but little hospitality; and the love of money there displays itself in the high prices which are charged for provisions. Immense profits are realized by the retailer at the expense of the traveller. I have always noticed in my travels, that the newer a settlement is, the more prevalent is hospitality. This great virtue is much more conspicuous among the poor, than among those who possess more than a competency. Here avarice begins its reign; and every virtue is blasted by its poisonous influence.
In this part of the country, and in many other places I often found it convenient to stop at the log huts of poor emigrants. From the inmates of these huts I always experienced a kind and generous welcome; and in almost every case I ascertained that they were from New-Hampshire or Vermont.—They would generally refuse to take any compensation for their services; and were so afraid of violating the sacred principles of hospitality, that I could only leave my money upon their table, or cast it as a play thing to their children. Oh! how many tutelary angels shield the cot of the poor and virtuous man, whilst the splendid habitations of the rich and dissipated, receive only the averted eye of offended Heaven.
I have omitted to mention, that whilst in Albany I was informed that robberies had been frequently committed on the Western Turnpike. This information appeared peculiarly important, on account of the frequent suggestions of people that I probably had with me a large sum of money. Besides, war, which always produces a greater or less number of abandoned and desperate characters, having {35} recently ceased, and there being many
