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In sailing from Port Amboy to New-York, we picked up a good new boat, worth 10 or 12 guineas, which was drifting out to sea. Having been so detained at Perth Amboy, and the wind proving unfavourable, we did not arrive at New-York until after dark. As the yellow fever had for some time prevailed at New-York, I was desirous of being put on shore at Brooklyn, on Long Island; but, the night being dark with wind and rain, I could not prevail upon the Captain of the packet to land me; nor could I obtain a boat of any kind to take me over. I was therefore under the neces- sity of going to New-York, where all was silent and solitary; and what used to be the busiest parts, were now without an inhabitant to be seen. Having landed at Quince's Wharf, I went along Water-street to the Fly-market wharf, hoping to meet with the ferry-boat; but here likewise all was silence and solitude. I then went through the whole length of Fly-market, which had the ap-pearance of having been untrodden for weeks past; the light of some lamps shewing the boarded floor to be as clean as that of a parlour. From the Fly-market, I crossed Pearl-street, into Maiden-lane, and went on to Broad-way, to the City Hotel, a large spacious inn; where I was the only guest. When I was here last, the house was crowded with company; so much had this awful visitation varied the scene in every part of this busy city. Some