Wednesday 24th August.—After a sleepless night, I arose early and found it raining, so I breakfasted, and awaited until ten o'clock, when it clearing up a little, I rode three miles in a southerly direction deviating a little to the right of the main road, to a farm rented from Mr. Forman by Mr. Blennerhasset, at whose hospitable dwelling, I was received by Mr. B. and his accomplished and amiable lady with the utmost kindness and politeness.[205] I could not help contrasting their present temporary residence in a decayed cabin, with their splendid and tasty habitation on the Ohio. Blest however in each other, with kindred souls and similar tastes—possessing a noble library, and still a sufficiency left after all their losses, with a well regulated but liberal economy, for all the necessaries, and many of the indulgencies of life.
After dinner I tore myself with difficulty from the social and intellectual feast I was enjoying, and proceeding on my journey through a woody country, and a light soil, I arrived at Natchez a little before dark.
I was much struck with the similarity of Natchez to many of the smaller West India towns, particularly St. Johns Antigua, though not near so large as it. The houses all with balconies and piazzas—some merchants' stores—several little shops kept by free mulattoes, and French and Spanish Creoles—the great mixture of colour of the people in the streets, and many other circumstances, with the aid of a little fancy to heighten the illusion, might have
