Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land.
Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.
Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon.

Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward.

What do you see ?--Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries.

Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep.

But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster--tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks.