the Flood.  I have never before or since tasted such delicious wine, and in such profusion, and everybody stuck to it with such leech-like tenacity.  On one occasion, having sat down to dinner at two o’clock, I found myself getting up from table half an hour after midnight, and quite as fresh as when I had sat down.  There was no possibility of leaving the hospitable old General’s mahogany.[AD] One kind friend, Mr. C.H.  Fisher, insisted that I must make his house my hotel, either he or his wife were always at dinner at four o’clock, and my cover was always laid.  The society of his amiable lady and himself made it too tempting an offer to refuse, and I need scarcely say, it added much to the pleasure of my stay in Philadelphia.  The same kind friend had also a seat for me always in his box at the opera, where that most charming and lady-like of actresses, the Countess Rossi,[AE] with her sweet voice, was gushing forth soft melody to crammed houses.  On every side I met nothing but kindness.  Happening one day at dinner to mention incidentally, that I thought the butter unworthy of the reputation of Philadelphia—­for it professes to stand pre-eminent in dairy produce—­two ladies present exclaimed, “Well!” and accompanied the expression by a look of active benevolence.  The next morning, as I was sitting down to breakfast, a plate arrived from each of the rivals in kindness; the dew of the morning was on the green leaf, and underneath, such butter as my mouth waters at the remembrance of, and thus it continued during my whole stay.  The club doors, with all its conveniences—­and to a solitary stranger they are very great—­were thrown open to me:  in short, my friends left me nothing to wish, except that my time had permitted me a longer enjoyment of their hospitalities.

The streets of Philadelphia, which run north and south from the Schuylkill to the Delaware, are named after the trees, a row whereof grow on each side; but whether from a poetic spirit, or to aid the memory, some of the names are changed, that the following couplet, embracing the eight principal ones, may form a handy guide to the stranger or the resident:—­

  “Chestnut, walnut, spruce, and pine,
  Market, arch, race, and vine.”

Mulberry, and sassafras, and juniper, would have dished the poetry.  The cross-streets are all called by numbers; thus any domicile is readily found.  The principal traverse street is an exception, being called “Broad;” it looks its name well, and extends beyond the town into the country:  strange as it may seem to those who associate stiff white bonnets, stiff coat-collars, and broad-brimmed hats, with Philadelphia, on the extremity of this street every Sunday afternoon, all the famous trotters may be seen dashing along at three-minute pace.  The country round about is pretty and undulating, and the better-to-do inhabitants of Philadelphia have very snug little country places, in which they chiefly reside during the summer, and to which, at other seasons, they often adjourn upon the Saturday, to enjoy the quiet of Sunday in the country.