I entered it to purchase some _eau de Cologne_, but finding what was offered to me extremely bad, and very cheap, I asked if they had none at a higher price, and better.
"You are a stranger, I guess," was the answer.

"The Yankees want low price, that's all; they don't stand so much for goodness as the English." Nothing could be more beautiful than our passage down the Hudson on the following day, as I thought of some of my friends in England, dear lovers of the picturesque, I could not but exclaim, "Que je vous plains! que je vous plains! Vous ne la verrez pas." Not even a moving panoramic view, gliding before their eyes for an hour together, in all the scenic splendour of Drury Lane, or Covent Garden, could give them an idea of it.

They could only see one side at a time.

The change, the contrast, the ceaseless variety of beauty, as you skim from side to side, the liquid smoothness of the broad mirror that reflects the scene, and most of all, the clear bright air through which you look at it; all this can only be seen and believed by crossing the Atlantic.
As we approached New York the burning heat of the day relaxed, and the long shadows of evening fell coolly on the beautiful villas we passed.

I really can conceive nothing more exquisitely lovely than this approach to the city.