On the 21st, we arrived at Boston, and stopped at the Marlborough hotel.  One of the first things noticed by a visitor to the States is the number and extent of the hotels, almost all of which are on the principle of the English boarding houses.  Besides the number of casual visitors in a population which travels from place to place, perhaps more than any other in the world, the hotels are the permanent homes of a numerous and important class of unmarried men, engaged in business, and often indeed of young married persons, who choose to avoid expense and the cares of housekeeping.  At many, if not most of the hotels, cleanliness, regularity, and order, pervade all the arrangements, and as much comfort is to be found as is compatible with throng and publicity.  Still the domestic charm of private life is wanting, and its absence renders the system of constant residence most uncongenial to English habits and feelings.  An unsocial reserve lies on the surface of English character, and the love of privacy, or at least of a retirement which can be closed and expanded at will, is an extensive and deep-seated feeling.  Yet the Anglo-American, even of the purest descent, has early lost the latter characteristic, while he often retains the first unimpaired.  What law governs the hereditary transmission of such traits?  Several first rate hotels in New England are strictly on the temperance plan, and among them is the Marlborough, in Boston, the second in extent of business in this important city, and which makes up from one hundred to two hundred beds.  No intoxicating liquor of any kind can be had in the house.  Printed notices are also hung up in the bed rooms, that it is the established rule to take in no fresh company and to receive no accounts on the first day of the week, and the cooking and other preparations are as much as possible performed before hand, that the servants may enjoy the day of rest, and partake of the moral and Spiritual benefit of a weekly pause from the whirl and turmoil of secular engagements.

I had scarcely ventured to hope that I should ever witness a large hotel like this, conducted on such principles; but having now seen it, it adds additional strength to my conviction, that in proportion as Christianity is carried out in common life, in the same proportion is the lost happiness of man recovered.  Too many in the present day, who are not behind-hand in profession, keep their principles more for show than use.  They acknowledge the purity of them, and have some faint perception of their moral beauty, but secretly believe, and sometimes, openly avow them to be impracticable in the present state of the world.  They who exhibit proof of the contrary, are benefactors to their fellow men; and among these, justly deserves to be classed Nathaniel Rogers, the proprietor of the Marlborough Hotel, in Boston.

We called upon several of our anti-slavery friends on the day of our arrival, and in the evening, took tea with a number of those who approve of the proceedings of the London Convention, and who concur in the principles of the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society.  The subjects discussed were the time and place of a future convention of the friends of the slave of different nations.  London was unanimously approved as the place, and the preponderance of sentiment was in favor of 1842 as the time.