s
treason. Washington's army lay at New Windsor in enforced inactivity;
enlistments were few, and the currency was almost worthless. Such was
the stagnation in trade, that the young strangers found it extremely
difficult to dispose of their little venture in tea. Two months were
passed at the cafe, in waiting for an opportunity to go to Philadelphia,
where Congress was in session, and where they expected to find the
influential persons to whom they were accredited; also letters from
Geneva. But this journey was no easy matter. The usual routes of travel
were interrupted. New York was the fortified headquarters of the British
army, and the Middle States were only to be reached by a detour through
the American lines above the Highlands and behind the Jersey Hills.

The homesick youths found little to amuse or interest them in Boston,
and grew very weary of its monotonous life and Puritanic tone. They
missed the public amusements to which they were accustomed in their own
country, and complained of the superstitious observance of Sunday, when
"singing, fiddling, card-playing and bowling were forbidden." Foreigners
were not welcome guests in this town of prejudice. The sailors of the
French fleet had already been the cause of one riot. Gallatin's letters
show that this aversion was fully reciprocated by him.

The neighboring country had some points of interest. No Swiss ever saw a
hill without an intense desire to get to its top. They soon felt the
magnetic attraction of the Blue Hills of Milton, and, descrying from
their summit the distant mountains north of Worcester, made a pedestrian
excursion thither the following day. Mr. Gallatin was wont to relate
with glee an incident of this trip, which Mr. John Russell Bartlett
repeats in his "Reminiscences."

"The tavern at which he stopped on his journey was kept by a man
who partook in a considerable degree of the curiosity even
now-a-days manifested by some landlords in the back parts of New
England to know the whole history of their guests. Noticing Mr.
Gallatin's French accent he said, 'Just from France, eh! You are a
Frenchman, I suppose.' 'No!' said Mr. Gallatin, 'I am not from
France.' 'You can't be from England, I am sure?' 'No!' was the
reply. 'From Spain?' 'No!' 'From Germany?' 'No!' 'Well, where on
earth are you from then, or what are you?' eagerly asked the
inquisitive landlord. 'I am a Swiss,' replied Mr. Gallatin