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 to raise them. Wholesale farmers from England expecting to cultivate from 300 to 1,000 acres, and sell the farm produce in lumps, will come here only to be disappointed. Small retailing farmers only are wanted here. Mr. Phillips deems that Birkbeck, Flower, and Mr. Dunlop of London, who have bought so many thousands of acres, and the latter of whom pays treble tax as a {229} non-resident, will greatly benefit at some future time by capital so employed, although they may never cultivate an acre, or touch the land. The capital seems to be idle and sleeps, but it will one day, he thinks, awake, and find itself gigantically augmented. Mr. Phillips, whose opinion is not respected here, was never a farmer until he came here. His improvements do honour to his intuition.

General Evans,[75] who this day formed one of our circle, is in part the owner of this town of Princeton, and of Evansville, which bears his name. He is a pleasant, rustic, middle-aged man, living here in a little log-house, together with his lady and daughter, who, having no servant, do all the work of their establishment themselves. Servants are not to be had. The same may be said of all the rest of the inhabitants. Envy and invidious comparisons have, therefore, no place at Princeton.

General Boon, during the last war, (says the General) lost two sons killed; and his favourite daughter and her friend were stolen by the Indians, who marched the fair