May 1, 81.SEEMS as if all the ways and means of American travel to-day had been settled, not only with reference to speed and directness, but for the comfort of women, children, invalids, and old fellows like me. I went on by a through train that runs daily from Washington to the Yankee metropolis without change. You get in a sleeping-car soon after dark in Philadelphia, and after ruminating an hour or two, have your bed made up if you like, draw the curtains, and go to sleep in itfly on through Jersey to New Yorkhear in your half-slumbers a dull jolting and bumping sound or twoare unconsciously toted from Jersey city by a midnight steamer around the Battery and under the big bridge to the track of the New Haven roadresume your flight eastward, and early the next morning you wake up in Boston. All of which was my experience. I wanted to go to the Revere house. A tall unknown gentleman, (a fellow-passenger on his way to Newport he told me, I had just chatted a few moments before with him,) assisted me out through the depot crowd, procured a hack, put me in it with my traveling bag, saying smilingly and quietly, Now I want you to let this be my ride, paid the driver, and before I could remonstrate bowd himself off.
The occasion of my jaunt, I suppose I had better say here, was for a public reading of the death of Abraham Lincoln essay, on the sixteenth anniversary of that tragedy; which reading duly came off, night of April 15. Then I lingerd a week in Bostonfelt pretty well (the mood propitious, my paralysis lulld)went around everywhere, and saw all that was to be seen, especially human beings. Bostons immense material growthcommerce, finance, commission stores, the plethora of goods, the crowded streets and sidewalksmade of course the first surprising show. In my trip out West, last year, I thought the wand of future prosperity, future empire, must soon surely be wielded by St. Louis, Chicago, beautiful Denver, perhaps San Francisco; but I see the said wand stretchd out just as decidedly in Boston, with just as much certainty of staying; evidences of copious capitalindeed no centre of the New World ahead of it, (half the big railroads in the West are built with Yankees money, and they take the dividends.) Old Boston with its zigzag streets and multitudinous angles, (crush up a sheet of letter-paper in your hand, throw it down, stamp it flat, and that is a map of old Boston)new Boston with its miles upon miles of large and costly housesBeacon street, Commonwealth avenue, and a hundred others. But the best new departures and expansions of Boston, and of all the cities of New England, are in another direction.