North America, V. 1 ............................................................................................................................................1

Anthony Trollope .....................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. ............................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. NEWPORTRHODE ISLAND....................................................................................9

CHAPTER III. MAINE, NEW HAMPSHIRE, AND VERMONT. ......................................................15

CHAPTER IV. LOWER CANADA. .....................................................................................................23

CHAPTER V. UPPER CANADA. ........................................................................................................33

CHAPTER VI. THE CONNECTION OF THE CANADAS WITH GREAT BRITAIN.....................41

CHAPTER VII. NIAGARA..................................................................................................................47

CHAPTER VIII. NORTH AND WEST................................................................................................53

CHAPTER IX. FROM NIAGARA TO THE MISSISSIPPI. ................................................................60

CHAPTER X. THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI. ..........................................................................................70

CHAPTER XI. CERES AMERICANA................................................................................................78

CHAPTER XII. BUFFALO TO NEW YORK. .....................................................................................87

CHAPTER XIII. AN APOLOGY FOR THE WAR. .............................................................................93

CHAPTER XIV. NEW YORK. .............................................................................................................98

CHAPTER XV. THE CONSTITUTION OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK. ...................................112

CHAPTER XVI. BOSTON.................................................................................................................116

CHAPTER XVII. CAMBRIDGE AND LOWELL. ............................................................................128

CHAPTER XVIII. THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN. ................................................................................135

CHAPTER XIX. EDUCATION. .........................................................................................................140

CHAPTER XX. FROM BOSTON TO WASHINGTON. ...................................................................149

It has been the ambition of my literary life to write a book about the United States, and I had made up my

mind to visit the country with this object before the intestine troubles of the United States government had

commenced. I have not allowed the division among the States and the breaking out of civil war to interfere

with my intention; but I should not purposely have chosen this period either for my book or for my visit. I say

so much, in order that it may not be supposed that it is my special purpose to write an account of the struggle

as far as it has yet been carried. My wish is to describe, as well as I can, the present social and political state

of the country. This I should have attempted, with more personal satisfaction in the work, had there been no

disruption between the North and South; but I have not allowed that disruption to deter me from an object

which, if it were delayed, might probably never be carried out. I am therefore forced to take the subject in its

present condition, and being so forced I must write of the war, of the causes which have led to it, and of its

probable termination. But I wish it to be understood that it was not my selected task to do so, and is not now

Thirty years ago my mother wrote a book about the Americans, to which I believe I may allude as a

wellknown and successful work without being guilty of any undue family conceit. That was essentially a

woman's book. She saw with a woman's keen eye, and described with a woman's light but graphic pen, the

social defects and absurdities which our near relatives had adopted into their domestic life. All that she told

was worth the telling, and the telling, if done successfully, was sure to produce a good result. I am satisfied

that it did so. But she did not regard it as a part of her work to dilate on the nature and operation of those

political arrangements which had produced the social absurdities which she saw, or to explain that though

such absurdities were the natural result of those arrangements in their newness, the defects would certainly

pass away, while the political arrangements, if good, would remain. Such a work is fitter for a man than for a

woman, I am very far from thinking that it is a task which I can perform with satisfaction either to myself or

to others. It is a work which some man will do who has earned a right by education, study, and success to

rank himself among the political sages of his age. But I may perhaps be able to add something to the

familiarity of Englishmen with Americans. The writings which have been most popular in England on the

subject of the United States have hitherto dealt chiefly with social details; and though in most cases true and

useful, have created laughter on one side of the Atlantic, and soreness on the other. if I could do anything to

mitigate the soreness, if I could in any small degree add to the good feeling which should exist between two

nations which ought to love each other so well, and which do hang upon each other so constantly, I should

But it is very hard to write about any country a book that does not represent the country described in a more

or less ridiculous point of view. It is hard at least to do so in such a book as I must write. A de Tocqueville

may do it. It may be done by any philosophicopolitical or politicostatistical, or statistico scientific writer;

but it can hardly be done by a man who professes to use a light pen, and to manufacture his article for the use

of general readers. Such a writer may tell all that he sees of the beautiful; but he must also tell, if not all that

he sees of the ludicrous, at any rate the most piquant part of it. How to do this without being offensive is the

problem which a man with such a task before him has to solve. His first duty is owed to his readers, and

consists mainly in this: that he shall tell the truth, and shall so tell that truth that what he has written may be

readable. But a second duty is due to those of whom he writes; and he does not perform that duty well if he

gives offense to those as to whom, on the summing up of the whole evidence for and against them in his own

mind, he intends to give a favorable verdict. There are of course those against whom a writer does not intend

to give a favorable verdict; people and places whom he desires to describe, on the peril of his own judgment,

as bad, ill educated, ugly, and odious. In such cases his course is straightforward enough. His judgment may

be in great peril, but his volume or chapter will be easily written. Ridicule and censure run glibly from the

pen, and form themselves into sharp paragraphs which are pleasant to the reader. Whereas eulogy is

commonly dull, and too frequently sounds as though it were false. There is much difficulty in expressing a

verdict which is intended to be favorable; but which, though favorable, shall not be falsely eulogistic; and

Who has ever traveled in foreign countries without meeting excellent stories against the citizens of such

countries? And how few can travel without hearing such stories against themselves! It is impossible for me to

avoid telling of a very excellent gentleman whom I met before I had been in the United States a week, and

who asked me whether lords in England ever spoke to men who were not lords. Nor can I omit the opening

address of another gentleman to my wife. "You like our institutions, ma'am?" "Yes, indeed," said my wife,

not with all that eagerness of assent which the occasion perhaps required. "Ah," said he, "I never yet met the

downtrodden subject of a despot who did not hug his chains." The first gentleman was certainly somewhat

ignorant of our customs, and the second was rather abrupt in his condemnation of the political principles of a

person whom he only first saw at that moment. It comes to me in the way of my trade to repeat such

incidents; but I can tell stories which are quite as good against Englishmen. As, for instance, when I was

tapped on the back in one of the galleries of Florence by a countryman of mine, and asked to show him where

stood the medical Venus. Nor is anything that one can say of the inconveniences attendant upon travel in the

United States to be beaten by what foreigners might truly say of us. I shall never forget the look of a

Frenchman whom I found on a wet afternoon in the best inn of a provincial town in the west of England. He

was seated on a horsehaircovered chair in the middle of a small, dingy, illfurnished private sittingroom.

No eloquence of mine could make intelligible to a Frenchman or an American the utter desolation of such an

apartment. The world as then seen by that Frenchman offered him solace of no description. The air without

was heavy, dull, and thick. The street beyond the window was dark and narrow. The room contained

mahogany chairs covered with horse hair, a mahogany table, rickety in its legs, and a mahogany sideboard

ornamented with inverted glasses and old cruetstands. The Frenchman had come to the house for shelter and

food, and had been asked whether he was commercial. Whereupon he shook his head. "Did he want a

sittingroom?" Yes, he did. "He was a leetle tired and vanted to seet." Whereupon he was presumed to have

ordered a private room, and was shown up to the Eden I have described. I found him there at death's door.

Nothing that I can say with reference to the social habits of the Americans can tell more against them than the

From which remarks I would wish to be understood as deprecating offense from my American friends, if in

the course of my book should be found aught which may seem to argue against the excellence of their

institutions and the grace of their social life. Of this at any rate I can assure them, in sober earnestness, that I

admire what they have done in the world and for the world with a true and hearty admiration; and that

whether or no all their institutions be at present excellent, and their social life all graceful, my wishes are that

they should be so, and my convictions are that that improvement will come for which there may perhaps even

And now touching this war which had broken out between the North and South before I left England. I would

wish to explain what my feelings were; or rather what I believe the general feelings of England to have been

before I found myself among the people by whom it was being waged. It is very difficult for the people of

any one nation to realize the political relations of another, and to chew the cud and digest the bearings of

those external politics. But it is unjust in the one to decide upon the political aspirations and doings of that

other without such understanding. Constantly as the name of France is in our mouths, comparatively few

Englishmen understand the way in which France is governed; that is, how far absolute despotism prevails,

and how far the power of the one ruler is tempered, or, as it may be, hampered by the voices and influence of

others. And as regards England, how seldom is it that in common society a foreigner is met who

comprehends the nature of her political arrangements! To a FrenchmanI do not of course include great

men who have made the subject a study,but to the ordinary intelligent Frenchman the thing is altogether

incomprehensible. Language, it may be said, has much to do with that. But an American speaks English; and

how often is an American met who has combined in his mind the idea of a monarch, so called, with that of a

republic, properly so nameda combination of ideas which I take to be necessary to the understanding of

English politics! The gentleman who scorned my wife for hugging her chains had certainly not done so, and

yet he conceived that he had studied the subject. The matter is one most difficult of comprehension. How

many Englishmen have failed to understand accurately their own constitution, or the true bearing of their own

politics! But when this knowledge has been attained, it has generally been filtered into the mind slowly, and

has come from the unconscious study of many years. An Englishman handles a newspaper for a quarter of an

hour daily, and daily exchanges some few words in politics with those around him, till drop by drop the

pleasant springs of his liberty creep into his mind and water his heart; and thus, earlier or later in life,

according to the nature of his intelligence, he understands why it is that he is at all points a free man. But if

this be so of our own politics; if it be so rare a thing to find a foreigner who understands them in all their

niceties, why is it that we are so confident in our remarks on all the niceties of those of other nations?

I hope that I may not be misunderstood as saying that we should not discuss foreign politics in our press, our

parliament, our public meetings, or our private houses. No man could be mad enough to preach such a

doctrine. As regards our parliament, that is probably the best British school of foreign politics, seeing that the

subject is not there often taken up by men who are absolutely ignorant, and that mistakes when made are

subject to a correction which is both rough and ready. The press, though very liable to error, labors hard at its

vocation in teaching foreign politics, and spares no expense in letting in daylight. If the light let in be

sometimes moonshine, excuse may easily be made. Where so much is attempted, there must necessarily be

some failure. But even the moonshine does good if it be not offensive moonshine. What I would deprecate is,

that aptness at reproach which we assume; the readiness with scorn, the quiet words of insult, the instant

judgment and condemnation with which we are so inclined to visit, not the great outward acts, but the smaller

And do others spare us? will be the instant reply of all who may read this. In my counter reply I make bold to

place myself and my country on very high ground, and to say that we, the older and therefore more

experienced people as regards the United States, and the better governed as regards France, and the stronger

as regards all the world beyond, should not throw mud again even though mud be thrown at us. I yield the

path to a small chimneysweeper as readily as to a lady; and forbear from an interchange of courtesies with a

Billingsgate heroine, even though at heart I may have a proud consciousness that I should not altogether go to

I left England in August lastAugust, 1861. At that time, and for some months previous, I think that the

general English feeling on the American question was as follows: "This widespread nationality of the

United States, with its enormous territorial possessions and increasing population, has fallen asunder, torn to

pieces by the weight of its own discordant partsas a congregation when its size has become unwieldy will

separate, and reform itself into two wholesome wholes. It is well that this should be so, for the people are not

homogeneous, as a people should be who are called to live together as one nation. They have attempted to

combine free soil sentiments with the practice of slavery, and to make these two antagonists live together in

peace and unity under the same roof; but, as we have long expected, they have failed. Now has come the

period for separation; and if the people would only see this, and act in accordance with the circumstances

which Providence and the inevitable hand of the world's Ruler has prepared for them, all would be well. But

they will not do this. They will go to war with each other. The South will make her demands for secession

with an arrogance and instant pressure which exasperates the North; and the North, forgetting that an equable

temper in such matters is the most powerful of all weapons, will not recognize the strength of its own

position. It allows itself to be exasperated, and goes to war for that which if regained would only be injurious

to it. Thus millions on millions sterling will be spent. A heavy debt will be incurred; and the North, which

divided from the South might take its place among the greatest of nations, will throw itself back for half a

century, and perhaps injure the splendor of its ultimate prospects. If only they would be wise, throw down

This was I think the general opinion when I left England. It would not, however, be necessary to go back

many months to reach the time when Englishmen were saying how impossible it was that so great a national

power should ignore its own greatness and destroy its own power by an internecine separation. But in August

last all that had gone by, and we in England had realized the probability of actual secession.

To these feelings on the subject maybe added another, which was natural enough though perhaps not noble.

"These western cocks have crowed loudly," we said; "too loudly for the comfort of those who live after all at

no such great distance from them. It is well that their combs should be clipped. Cocks who crow so very

loudly are a nuisance. It might have gone so far that the clipping would become a work necessarily to be done

from without. But it is ten times better for all parties that it should be done from within; and as the cocks are

now clipping their own combs, in God's name let them do it, and the whole world will be the quieter." That, I

say, was not a very noble idea; but it was natural enough, and certainly has done somewhat in mitigating that

grief which the horrors of civil war and the want of cotton have caused to us in England.

Such certainly had been my belief as to the country. I speak here of my opinion as to the ultimate success of

secession and the folly of the war, repudiating any concurrence of my own in the ignoble but natural

sentiment alluded to in the last paragraph. I certainly did think that the Northern States, if wise, would have

let the Southern States go. I had blamed Buchanan as a traitor for allowing the germ of secession to make any

growth; and as I thought him a traitor then, so do I think him a traitor now. But I had also blamed Lincoln, or

rather the government of which Mr. Lincoln in this matter is no more than the exponent, for his efforts to

avoid that which is inevitable. In this I think that Ior as I believe I may say we, we Englishmenwere

wrong. I do not see how the North, treated as it was and had been, could have submitted to secession without

resistance. We all remember what Shakspeare says of the great armies which were led out to fight for a piece

of ground not large enough to cover the bodies of those who would be slain in the battle; but I do not

remember that Shakspeare says that the battle was on this account necessarily unreasonable. It is the old point

of honor which, till it had been made absurd by certain changes of circumstances, was always grand and

usually beneficent. These changes of circumstances have altered the manner in which appeal may be made,

but have not altered the point of honor. Had the Southern States sought to obtain secession by constitutional

means, they might or might not have been successful; but if successful, there would have been no war. I do

not mean to brand all the Southern States with treason, nor do I intend to say that, having secession at heart,

they could have obtained it by constitutional means. But I do intend to say that, acting as they did, demanding

secession not constitutionally, but in opposition to the constitution, taking upon themselves the right of

breaking up a nationality of which they formed only a part, and doing that without consent of the other part,

It is, I think, only necessary to look back to the Revolution by which the United States separated themselves

from England to see this. There is hardly to be met, here and there, an Englishman who now regrets the loss

of the revolted American colonies; who now thinks that civilization was retarded and the world injured by

that revolt; who now conceives that England should have expended more treasure and more lives in the hope

of retaining those colonies. It is agreed that the revolt was a good thing; that those who were then rebels

became patriots by success, and that they deserved well of all coming ages of mankind. But not the less

absolutely necessary was it that England should endeavor to hold her own. She was as the mother bird when

the young bird will fly alone. She suffered those pangs which Nature calls upon mothers to endure.

As was the necessity of British opposition to American independence, so was the necessity of Northern

opposition to Southern secession. I do not say that in other respects the two cases were parallel. The States

separated from us because they would not endure taxation without representationin other words, because

they were old enough and big enough to go alone. The South is seceding from the North because the two are

not homogeneous. They have different instincts, different appetites, different morals, and a different culture.

It is well for one man to say that slavery has caused the separation, and for another to say that slavery has not

caused it. Each in so saying speaks the truth. Slavery has caused it, seeing that slavery is the great point on

which the two have agreed to differ. But slavery has not caused it, seeing that other points of difference are to

be found in every circumstance and feature of the two people. The North and the South must ever be

dissimilar. In the North labor will always be honorable, and because honorable, successful. In the South labor

has ever been servileat least in some senseand therefore dishonorable; and because dishonorable, has

not, to itself, been successful. In the South, I say, labor ever has been dishonorable; and I am driven to

confess that I have not hitherto seen a sign of any change in the Creator's fiat on this matter. That labor will

be honorable all the world over as years advance and the millennium draws nigh, I for one never doubt.

So much for English opinion about America in August last. And now I will venture to say a word or two as to

American feeling respecting this English opinion at that period. It will of course be remembered by all my

readers that, at the beginning of the war, Lord Russell, who was then in the lower house, declared, as Foreign

Secretary of State, that England would regard the North and South as belligerents, and would remain neutral

as to both of them. This declaration gave violent offense to the North, and has been taken as indicating British

sympathy with the cause of the seceders. I am not going to explainindeed, it would be necessary that I

should first understandthe laws of nations with regard to blockaded ports, privateering, ships and men and

goods contraband of war, and all those seminautical, semimilitary rules and axioms which it is necessary

that all attorneysgeneral and such like should, at the present moment, have at their fingers' end. But it must

be evident to the most ignorant in those matters, among which large crowd I certainly include myself, that it

was essentially necessary that Lord John Russell should at that time declare openly what England intended to

do. It was essential that our seamen should know where they would be protected and where not, and that the

course to be taken by England should be defined. Reticence in the matter was not within the power of the

British government. It behooved the Foreign Secretary of State to declare openly that England intended to

side either with one party or with the other, or else to remain neutral between them.

I had heard this matter discussed by Americans before I left England, and I have of course heard it discussed

very frequently in America. There can be no doubt that the front of the offense given by England to the

Northern States was this declaration of Lord John Russell's. But it has been always made evident to me that

the sin did not consist in the fact of England's neutralityin the fact of her regarding the two parties as

belligerentsbut in the open declaration made to the world by a Secretary of State that she did intend so to

regard them. If another proof were wanting, this would afford another proof of the immense weight attached

in America to all the proceedings and to all the feelings of England on this matter. The very anger of the

North is a compliment paid by the North to England. But not the less is that anger unreasonable. To those in

America who understand our constitution, it must be evident that our government cannot take official

measures without a public avowal of such measures. France can do so. Russia can do so. The government of

the United States can do so, and could do so even before this rupture. But the government of England cannot

do so. All men connected with the government in England have felt themselves from time to time more or

less hampered by the necessity of publicity. Our statesmen have been forced to fight their battles with the

plan of their tactics open before their adversaries. But we in England are inclined to believe that the general

result is good, and that battles so fought and so won will be fought with the honestest blows and won with the

surest results. Reticence in this matter was not possible; and Lord John Russell, in making the open avowal

which gave such offense to the Northern States, only did that which, as a servant of England, England

"What would you in England have thought," a gentleman of much weight in Boston said to me, "if, when you

were in trouble in India, we had openly declared that we regarded your opponents there are as belligerents on

equal terms with yourselves?" I was forced to say that, as far as I could see, there was no analogy between the

two cases. In India an army had mutinied, and that an army composed of a subdued, if not a servile race. The

analogy would have been fairer had it referred to any sympathy shown by us to insurgent negroes. But,

nevertheless, had the army which mutinied in India been in possession of ports and seaboard; had they held

in their hands vast commercial cities and great agricultural districts; had they owned ships and been masters

of a widespread trade, America could have done nothing better toward us than have remained neutral in

such a conflict and have regarded the parties as belligerents. The only question is whether she would have

done so well by us. "But," said my friend, in answer to all this, "we should not have proclaimed to the world

that we regarded you and them as standing on an equal footing." There again appeared the true gist of the

offense. A word from England such as that spoken by Lord John Russell was of such weight to the South that

the North could not endure to have it spoken. I did not say to that gentleman, but here I may say that, had

such circumstances arisen as those conjectured, and had America spoken such a word, England would not

But the fairer analogy lies between Ireland and the Southern States. The monster meetings and O'Connell's

triumphs are not so long gone by but that many of us can remember the first demand for secession made by

Ireland, and the line which was then taken by American sympathies. It is not too much to say that America

then believed that Ireland would secure secession, and that the great trust of the Irish repealers was in the

moral aid which she did and would receive from America. "But our government proclaimed no sympathy

with Ireland," said my friend. No. The American government is not called on to make such proclamations,

That this anger on the part of the North is unreasonable, I cannot doubt. That it is unfortunate, grievous, and

very bitter, I am quite sure. But I do not think that it is in any degree surprising. I am inclined to think that,

did I belong to Boston as I do belong to London, I should share in the feeling, and rave as loudly as all men

there have raved against the coldness of England. When men have on hand such a job of work as the North

has now undertaken, they are always guided by their feelings rather than their reason. What two men ever had

a quarrel in which each did not think that all the world, if just, would espouse his own side of the dispute?

The North feels that it has been more than loyal to the South, and that the South has taken advantage of that

over loyalty to betray the North. "We have worked for them, and fought for them, and paid for them," says

the North. "By our labor we have raised their indolence to a par with our energy. While we have worked like

men, we have allowed them to talk and bluster. We have warmed them in our bosom, and now they turn

against us and sting us. The world sees that this is so. England, above all, must see it, and, seeing it, should

speak out her true opinion." The North is hot with such thoughts as these; and one cannot wonder that she

should be angry with her friend when her friend, with an expression of certain easy good wishes, bids her

fight out her own battles. The North has been unreasonable with England; but I believe that every reader of

this page would have been as unreasonable had that reader been born in Massachusetts.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones are the dearlybeloved friends of my family. My wife and I have lived with Mrs. Jones

on terms of intimacy which have been quite endearing. Jones has had the run of my house with perfect

freedom; and in Mrs. Jones's drawingroom I have always had my own armchair, and have been regaled

with large breakfastcups of tea, quite as though I were at home. But of a sudden Jones and his wife have

fallen out, and there is for awhile in Jones Hall a catanddog life that may endin one hardly dare to

surmise what calamity. Mrs. Jones begs that I will interfere with her husband, and Jones entreats the good

offices of my wife in moderating the hot temper of his own. But we know better than that. If we interfere, the

chances are that my dear friends will make it up and turn upon us. I grieve beyond measure in a general way

at the temporary break up of the JonesHall happiness. I express general wishes that it may be temporary.

But as for saying which is right or which is wrongas to expressing special sympathy on either side in such

a quarrelit is out of the question. "My dear Jones, you must excuse me. Any news in the city today?

Sugars have fallen; how are teas?" Of course Jones thinks that I'm a brute; but what can I do?

I have been somewhat surprised to find the trouble that has been taken by American orators, statesmen, and

logicians to prove that this secession on the part of the South has been revolutionary that is to say, that it

has been undertaken and carried on not in compliance with the Constitution of the United States, but in

defiance of it. This has been done over and over again by some of the greatest men of the North, and has been

done most successfully. But what then? Of course the movement has been revolutionary and

anticonstitutional. Nobody, no single Southerner, can really believe that the Constitution of the United

States as framed in 1787, or altered since, intended to give to the separate States the power of seceding as

they pleased. It is surely useless going through long arguments to prove this, seeing that it is absolutely

proved by the absence of any clause giving such license to the separate States. Such license would have been

destructive to the very idea of a great nationality. Where would New England have been, as a part of the

United States, if New York, which stretches from the Atlantic to the borders of Canada, had been endowed

with the power of cutting off the six Northern States from the rest of the Union? No one will for a moment

doubt that the movement was revolutionary, and yet infinite pains are taken to prove a fact that is patent to

It is revolutionary; but what then? Have the Northern States of the American Union taken upon themselves,

in 1861, to proclaim their opinion that revolution is a sin? Are they going back to the divine right of any

sovereignty? Are they going to tell the world that a nation or a people is bound to remain in any political

status because that status is the recognized form of government under which such a people have lived? Is this

to be the doctrine of United States citizensof all people? And is this the doctrine preached now, of all

times, when the King of Naples and the Italian dukes have just been dismissed from their thrones with such

enchanting nonchalance because their people have not chosen to keep them? Of course the movement is

revolutionary; and why not? It is agreed now among all men and all nations that any people may change its

There are two other points on which these Northern statesmen and logicians also insist, and these two other

points are at any rate better worth an argument than that which touches the question of revolution. It being

settled that secession on the part of the Southerners is revolution, it is argued, firstly, that no occasion for

revolution had been given by the North to the South; and, secondly, that the South has been dishonest in its

revolutionary tactics. Men certainly should not raise a revolution for nothing; and it may certainly be declared

But in that matter of the cause and ground for revolution, it is so very easy for either party to put in a plea that

shall be satisfactory to itself! Mr. and Mrs. Jones each had a separate story. Mr. Jones was sure that the right

lay with him; but Mrs. Jones was no less sure. No doubt the North had done much for the South; had earned

money for it; had fed it; and had, moreover, in a great measure fostered all its bad habits. It had not only been

generous to the South, but overindulgent. But also it had continually irritated the South by meddling with

that which the Southerners believed to be a question absolutely private to themselves. The matter was

illustrated to me by a New Hampshire man who was conversant with black bears. At the hotels in the New

Hampshire mountains it is customary to find black bears chained to poles. These bears are caught among the

hills, and are thus imprisoned for the amusement of the hotel guests. "Them Southerners," said my friend,

"are jist as one as that 'ere bear. We feeds him and gives him a house, and his belly is ollers full. But then, jist

becase he's a black bear, we're ollers a poking him with sticks, and a' course the beast is a kinder riled. He

wants to be back to the mountains. He wouldn't have his belly filled, but he'd have his own way. It's jist so

It is of no use proving to any man or to any nation that they have got all they should want, if they have not

got all that they do want. If a servant desires to go, it is of no avail to show him that he has all he can desire in

his present place. The Northerners say that they have given no offense to the Southerners, and that therefore

the South is wrong to raise a revolution. The very fact that the North is the North, is an offence to the South.

As long as Mr. and Mrs. Jones were one in heart and one in feeling, having the same hopes and the same

joys, it was well that they should remain together. But when it is proved that they cannot so live without

tearing out each other's eyes, Sir Cresswell Cresswell, the revolutionary institution of domestic life, interferes

and separates them. This is the age of such separations. I do not wonder that the North should use its logic to

show that it has received cause of offense but given none; but I do think that such logic is thrown away. The

matter is not one for argument. The South has thought that it can do better without the North than with it; and

if it has the power to separate itself, it must be conceded that it has the right.

And then as to that question of honesty. Whatever men do they certainly should do honestly. Speaking

broadly, one may say that the rule applies to nations as strongly as to individuals, and should be observed in

politics as accurately as in other matters. We must, however, confess that men who are scrupulous in their

private dealings do too constantly drop those scruples when they handle public affairs, and especially when

they handle them at stirring moments of great national changes. The name of Napoleon III. stands fair now

before Europe, and yet he filched the French empire with a falsehood. The union of England and Ireland is a

successful fact, but nevertheless it can hardly be said that it was honestly achieved. I heartily believe that the

whole of Texas is improved in every sense by having been taken from Mexico and added to the Southern

States, but I much doubt whether that annexation was accomplished with absolute honesty. We all reverence

the name of Cavour, but Cavour did not consent to abandon Nice to France with clean hands. When men have

political ends to gain they regard their opponents as adversaries, and then that old rule of war is brought to

bear, deceit or valoreither may be used against a foe. Would it were not so! The rascally rulerascally in

reference to all political contestsis becoming less universal than it was. But it still exists with sufficient

force to be urged as an excuse; and while it does exist it seems almost needless to show that a certain amount

of fraud has been used by a certain party in a revolution. If the South be ultimately successful, the fraud of

The Southern or Democratic party of the United States had, as all men know, been in power for many years.

Either Southern Presidents had been elected, or Northern Presidents with Southern politics. The South for

many years had had the disposition of military matters, and the power of distributing military appliances of

all descriptions. It is now alleged by the North that a conspiracy had long been hatching in the South with the

view of giving to the Southern States the power of secession whenever they might think fit to secede; and it is

further alleged that President after President, for years back, has unduly sent the military treasure of the

nation away from the North down to the South, in order that the South might be prepared when the day

should come. That a President with Southern instincts should unduly favor the South, that he should

strengthen the South, and feel that arms and ammunition were stored there with better effect than they could

be stored in the North, is very probable. We all understand what is the bias of a man's mind, and how strong

that bias may become when the man is not especially scrupulous. But I do not believe that any President

previous to Buchanan sent military materials to the South with the selfacknowledged purpose of using them

against the Union. That Buchanan did so, or knowingly allowed this to be done, I do believe, and I think that

Buchanan was a traitor to the country whose servant he was and whose pay he received.

And now, having said so much in the way of introduction, I will begin my journey.

Wethe we consisting of my wife and myselfleft Liverpool for Boston on the 24th August, 1861, in the

Arabia, one of Cunard's North American mail packets. We had determined that my wife should return alone

at the beginning of winter, when I intended to go to a part of the country in which, under the existing

circumstances of the war, a lady might not feel herself altogether comfortable. I proposed staying in America

over the winter, and returning in the spring; and this programme I have carried out with sufficient exactness.

The Arabia touched at Halifax; and as the touch extended from 11 A.M. to 6 P.M. we had an opportunity of

seeing a good deal of that colony; not quite sufficient to justify me at this critical age in writing a chapter of

travels in Nova Scotia, but enough perhaps to warrant a paragraph. It chanced that a cousin of mine was then

in command of the troops there, so that we saw the fort with all the honors. A dinner on shore was, I think, a

greater treat to us even than this. We also inspected sundry specimens of the gold which is now being found

for the first time in Nova Scotia, as to the glory and probable profits of which the Nova Scotians seemed to be

fully alive. But still, I think the dinner on shore took rank with us as the most memorable and meritorious of

all that we did and saw at Halifax. At seven o'clock on the morning but one after that we were landed at

At Boston I found friends ready to receive us with open arms, though they were friends we had never known

before. I own that I felt myself burdened with much nervous anxiety at my first introduction to men and

women in Boston. I knew what the feeling there was with reference to England, and I knew also how

impossible it is for an Englishman to hold his tongue and submit to dispraise of England. As for going among

a people whose whole minds were filled with affairs of the war, and saying nothing about the war, I knew

that no resolution to such an effect could be carried out. If one could not trust one's self to speak, one should

have stayed at home in England. I will here state that I always did speak out openly what I thought and felt,

and that though I encountered very strongsometimes almost fierceopposition, I never was subjected to

In September we did not stay above a week in Boston, having been fairly driven out of it by the musquitoes. I

had been told that I should find nobody in Boston whom I cared to see, as everybody was habitually out of

town during the heat of the latter summer and early autumn; but this was not so. The war and attendant

turmoils of war had made the season of vacation shorter than usual, and most of those for whom I asked were

back at their posts. I know no place at which an Englishman may drop down suddenly among a pleasanter

circle of acquaintance, or find himself with a more clever set of men, than he can do at Boston. I confess that

in this respect I think that but few towns are at present more fortunately circumstanced than the capital of the

Bay State, as Massachusetts is called, and that very few towns make a better use of their advantages. Boston

has a right to be proud of what it has done for the world of letters. It is proud; but I have not found that its

Boston is not in itself a fine city, but it is a very pleasant city. They say that the harbor is very grand and very

beautiful. It certainly is not so fine as that of Portland, in a nautical point of view, and as certainly it is not as

beautiful. It is the entrance from the sea into Boston of which people say so much; but I did not think it quite

worthy of all I had heard. In such matters, however, much depends on the peculiar light in which scenery is

seen. An evening light is generally the best for all landscapes; and I did not see the entrance to Boston harbor

by an evening light. It was not the beauty of the harbor of which I thought the most, but of the tea which had

been sunk there, and of all that came of that successful speculation. Few towns now standing have a right to

But as I have said, it is not specially interesting to the eye; what new town, or even what simply adult town,

can be so? There is an Atheneum, and a State Hall, and a fashionable street,Beacon Street, very like

Piccadilly as it runs along the Green Park,and there is the Green Park opposite to this Piccadilly, called

Boston Common. Beacon Street and Boston Common are very pleasant. Excellent houses there are, and large

churches, and enormous hotels; but of such things as these a man can write nothing that is worth the reading.

The traveler who desires to tell his experience of North America must write of people rather than of things.

As I have said, I found myself instantly involved in discussions on American politics and the bearing of

England upon those politics. "What do you think, you in Englandwhat do you believe will be the upshot of

this war?" That was the question always asked in those or other words. "Secession, certainly," I always said,

but not speaking quite with that abruptness. "And you believe, then, that the South will beat the North?" I

explained that I personally had never so thought, and that I did not believe that to be the general idea. Men's

opinions in England, however, were too divided to enable me to say that there was any prevailing conviction

on the matter. My own impression was, and is, that the North will, in a military point of view, have the best

of the contestwill beat the South; but that the Northerners will not prevent secession, let their success be

what it may. Should the North prevail after a two years' conflict, the North will not admit the South to an

equal participation of good things with themselves, even though each separate rebellious State should return

suppliant, like a prodigal son, kneeling on the floor of Congress, each with a separate rope of humiliation

round its neck. Such was my idea as expressed then, and I do not know that I have since had much cause to

"We will never give it up," one gentleman said to meand, indeed, many have said the same"till the

whole territory is again united from the Bay to the Gulf. It is impossible that we should allow of two

nationalities within those limits." "And do you think it possible," I asked, "that you should receive back into

your bosom this people which you now hate with so deep a hatred, and receive them again into your arms as

brothers on equal terms? Is it in accordance with experience that a conquered people should be so treated, and

that, too, a people whose every habit of life is at variance with the habits of their presumed conquerors?

When you have flogged them into a return of fraternal affection, are they to keep their slaves or are they to

abolish them?" "No," said my friend, "it may not be practicable to put those rebellious States at once on an

equality with ourselves. For a time they will probably be treated as the Territories are now treated." (The

Territories are vast outlying districts belonging to the Union, but not as yet endowed with State governments

or a participation in the United States Congress.) "For a time they must, perhaps, lose their full privileges; but

the Union will be anxious to readmit them at the earliest possible period." "And as to the slaves?" I asked

again. "Let them emigrate to Liberiaback to their own country." I could not say that I thought much of the

solution of the difficulty. It would, I suggested, overtask even the energy of America to send out an

emigration of four million souls, to provide for their wants in a new and uncultivated country, and to provide,

after that, for the terrible gap made in the labor market of the Southern States. "The Israelites went back from

bondage," said my friend. But a way was opened for them by a miracle across the sea, and food was sent to

them from heaven, and they had among them a Moses for a leader, and a Joshua to fight their battles. I could

not but express my fear that the days of such immigrations were over. This plan of sending back the negroes

to Africa did not reach me only from one or from two mouths, and it was suggested by men whose opinions

respecting their country have weight at home and are entitled to weight abroad. I mention this merely to show

how insurmountable would be the difficulty of preventing secession, let which side win that may.

"We will never abandon the right to the mouth of the Mississippi." That, in all such arguments, is a strong

point with men of the Northern Statesperhaps the point to which they all return with the greatest firmness.

It is that on which Mr. Everett insists in the last paragraph of the oration which he made in New York on the

4th of July, 1861. "The Missouri and the Mississippi Rivers," he says, "with their hundred tributaries, give to

the great central basin of our continent its character and destiny. The outlet of this system lies between the

States of Tennessee and Missouri, of Mississippi and Arkansas, and through the State of Louisiana. The

ancient province so called, the proudest monument of the mighty monarch whose name it bears, passed from

the jurisdiction of France to that of Spain in 1763. Spain coveted itnot that she might fill it with prosperous

colonies and rising States, but that it might stretch as a broad waste barrier, infested with warlike tribes,

between the AngloAmerican power and the silver mines of Mexico. With the independence of the United

States the fear of a still more dangerous neighbor grew upon Spain; and, in the insane expectation of checking

the progress of the Union westward, she threatened, and at times attempted, to close the mouth of the

Mississippi on the rapidlyincreasing trade of the West. The bare suggestion of such a policy roused the

population upon the banks of the Ohio, then inconsiderable, as one man. Their confidence in Washington

scarcely restrained them from rushing to the seizure of New Orleans, when the treaty of San Lorenzo El Real,

in 1795, stipulated for them a precarious right of navigating the noble river to the sea, with a right of deposit

at New Orleans. This subject was for years the turningpoint of the politics of the West; and it was perfectly

well understood that, sooner or later, she would be content with nothing less than the sovereign control of the

mighty stream from its headspring to its outlet in the Gulf. AND THAT IS AS TRUE NOW AS IT WAS

This is well put. It describes with force the desires, ambition, and necessities of a great nation, and it tells

with historical truth the story of the success of that nation. It was a great thing done when the purchase of the

whole of Louisiana was completed by the United Statesthat cession by France, however, having been

made at the instance of Napoleon, and not in consequence of any demand made by the States. The district

then called Louisiana included the present State of that name and the States of Missouri and

Arkansasincluded also the right to possess, if not the absolute possession of all that enormous expanse of

country running from thence back to the Pacific: a huge amount of territory, of which the most fertile portion

is watered by the Mississippi and its vast tributaries. That river and those tributaries are navigable through the

whole center of the American continent up to Wisconsin and Minnesota. To the United States the navigation

of the Mississippi was, we may say, indispensable; and to the States, when no longer united, the navigation

will be equally indispensable. But the days are gone when any country such as Spain was can interfere to stop

the highways of the world with the all but avowed intention of arresting the progress of civilization. It may be

that the North and the South can never again be friends as the component parts of one nation. Such, I take it,

is the belief of all politicians in Europe, and of many of those who live across the water. But as separate

nations they may yet live together in amity, and share between them the great water ways which God has

given them for their enrichment. The Rhine is free to Prussia and to Holland. The Danube is not closed

against Austria. It will be said that the Danube has in fact been closed against Austria, in spite of treaties to

the contrary. But the faults of bad and weak governments are made known as cautions to the world, and not

as facts to copy. The free use of the waters of a common river between two nations is an affair for treaty; and

it has not yet come to that that treaties must necessarily be null and void through the falseness of politicians.

"And what will England do for cotton? Is it not the fact that Lord John Russell, with his professed neutrality,

intends to express sympathy with the Southintends to pave the way for the advent of Southern cotton?"

"You ought to love us," so say men in Boston, "because we have been with you in heart and spirit for long,

long years. But your trade has eaten into your souls, and you love American cotton better than American

loyalty and American fellowship." This I found to be unfair, and in what politest language I could use I said

so. I had not any special knowledge of the minds of English statesmen on this matter; but I knew as well as

Americans could do what our statesmen had said and done respecting it. That cotton, if it came from the

South, would be made very welcome in Liverpool, of course I knew. If private enterprise could bring it, it

might be brought. But the very declaration made by Lord John Russell was the surest pledge that England, as

a nation, would not interfere even to supply her own wants. It may easily be imagined what eager words all

this would bring about; but I never found that eager words led to feelings which were personally hostile.

All the world has heard of Newport, in Rhode Island, as being the Brighton, and Tenby, and Scarborough of

New England. And the glory of Newport is by no means confined to New England, but is shared by New

York and Washington, and in ordinary years by the extreme South. It is the habit of Americans to go to some

wateringplace every summerthat is, to some place either of sea water or of inland waters. This is done

much in England, more in Ireland than in England, but I think more in the States than even in Ireland. But of

all such summer haunts, Newport is supposed to be in many ways the most captivating. In the first place, it is

certainly the most fashionable, and, in the next place, it is said to be the most beautiful. We decided on going

to Newportled thither by the latter reputation rather than the former. As we were still in the early part of

September, we expected to find the place full, but in this we were disappointeddisappointed, I say, rather

than gratified, although a crowded house at such a place is certainly a nuisance. But a house which is

prepared to make up six hundred beds, and which is called on to make up only twentyfive, becomes, after

awhile, somewhat melancholy. The natural depression of the landlord communicates itself to his servants,

and from the servants it descends to the twentyfive guests, who wander about the long passages and

deserted balconies like the ghosts of those of the summer visitors, who cannot rest quietly in their graves at

In England we know nothing of hotels prepared for six hundred visitors, all of whom are expected to live in

common. Domestic architects would be frightened at the dimensions which are needed, and at the number of

apartments which are required to be clustered under one roof. We went to the Ocean Hotel at Newport, and

fancied, as we first entered the hall under a veranda as high as the house, and made our way into the passage,

that we had been taken to a wellarranged barrack. "Have you rooms?" I asked, as a man always does ask on

first reaching his inn. "Rooms enough," the clerk said; "we have only fifty here." But that fifty dwindled

we were a melancholy set, the ladies appearing to be afflicted in this way worse than the gentlemen, on

account of their enforced abstinence from tobacco. What can twelve ladies do scattered about a

drawingroom, so called, intended for the accommodation of two hundred? The drawingroom at the Ocean

Hotel, Newport, is not as big as Westminster Hall, but would, I should think, make a very good House of

Commons for the British nation. Fancy the feelings of a lady when she walks into such a room, intending to

spend her evening there, and finds six or seven other ladies located on various sofas at terrible distances, all

strangers to her. She has come to Newport probably to enjoy herself; and as, in accordance with the customs

of the place, she has dined at two, she has nothing before her for the evening but the society of that huge,

furnished cavern. Her husband, if she have one, or her father, or her lover, has probably entered the room

with her. But a man has never the courage to endure such a position long. He sidles out with some muttered

excuse, and seeks solace with a cigar. The lady, after half an hour of contemplation, creeps silently near some

companion in the desert, and suggests in a whisper that Newport does not seem to be very full at present.

We stayed there for a week, and were very melancholy; but in our melancholy we still talked of the war.

Americans are said to be given to bragging, and it is a sin of which I cannot altogether acquit them. But I

have constantly been surprised at hearing the Northern men speak of their own military achievements with

anything but selfpraise. "We've been whipped, sir; and we shall be whipped again before we've done;

uncommon well whipped we shall be." "We began cowardly, and were afraid to send our own regiments

through one of our own cities." This alluded to a demand that had been made on the Government that troops

going to Washington should not be sent through Baltimore, because of the strong feeling for rebellion which

was known to exist in that city. President Lincoln complied with this request, thinking it well to avoid a

collision between the mob and the soldiers. "We began cowardly, and now we're going on cowardly, and

darn't attack them. Well; when we've been whipped often enough, then we shall learn the trade." Now all

thisand I heard much of such a naturecould not be called boasting. But yet with it all there was a

substratum of confidence. I have heard Northern gentlemen complaining of the President, complaining of all

his ministers, one after another, complaining of the contractors who were robbing the army, of the

commanders who did not know how to command the army, and of the army itself, which did not know how

to obey; but I do not remember that I have discussed the matter with any Northerner who would admit a

We were certainly rather melancholy at Newport, and the empty house may perhaps have given its tone to the

discussions on the war. I confess that I could not stand the drawingroomthe ladies' drawingroom, as

such like rooms are always called at the hotels and that I basely deserted my wife. I could not stand it

either here or elsewhere, and it seemed to me that other husbandsay, and even loverswere as hard

pressed as myself. I protest that there is no spot on the earth's surface so dear to me as my own drawing

room, or rather my wife's drawingroom, at home; that I am not a man given hugely to clubs, but one rather

rejoicing in the rustle of petticoats. I like to have women in the same room with me. But at these hotels I

found myself driven awaypropelled as it were by some unknown forceto absent myself from the

feminine haunts. Anything was more palatable than them, even "liquoring up" at a nasty bar, or smoking in a

comfortless readingroom among a deluge of American newspapers. And I protest alsohoping as I do so

that I may say much in this book to prove the truth of such protestationthat this comes from no fault of the

American women. They are as lovely as our own women. Taken generally, they are better instructed, though

perhaps not better educated. They are seldom troubled with mauvaise honte; I do not say it in irony, but

begging that the words may be taken at their proper meaning. They can always talk, and very often can talk

well. But when assembled together in these vast, cavernous, wouldbe luxurious, but in truth horribly

comfortless hotel drawingrooms, they are unapproachable. I have seen lovers, whom I have known to be

lovers, unable to remain five minutes in the same cavern with their beloved ones.

And then the music! There is always a piano in a hotel drawing room, on which, of course, some one of the

forlorn ladies is generally employed. I do not suppose that these pianos are in fact, as a rule, louder and

harsher, more violent and less musical, than other instruments of the kind. They seem to be so, but that, I take

it, arises from the exceptional mental depression of those who have to listen to them. Then the ladies, or

probably some one lady, will sing, and as she hears her own voice ring and echo through the lofty corners and

round the empty walls, she is surprised at her own force, and with increased efforts sings louder and still

louder. She is tempted to fancy that she is suddenly gifted with some power of vocal melody unknown to her

before, and, filled with the glory of her own performance, shouts till the whole house rings. At such moments

she at least is happy, if no one else is so. Looking at the general sadness of her position, who can grudge her

And then the childrenbabies, I should say if I were speaking of English bairns of their age; but seeing that

they are Americans, I hardly dare to call them children. The actual age of these perfectlycivilized and

highlyeducated beings may be from three to four. One will often see five or six such seated at the long

dinnertable of the hotel, breakfasting and dining with their elders, and going through the ceremony with all

the gravity, and more than all the decorum, of their grandfathers. When I was three years old I had not yet, as

I imagine, been promoted beyond a silver spoon of my own wherewith to eat my bread and milk in the

nursery; and I feel assured that I was under the immediate care of a nursemaid, as I gobbled up my minced

mutton mixed with potatoes and gravy. But at hotel life in the States the adult infant lisps to the waiter for

everything at table, handles his fish with epicurean delicacy, is choice in his selection of pickles, very

particular that his beefsteak at breakfast shall be hot, and is instant in his demand for fresh ice in his water.

But perhaps his, or in this case her, retreat from the room when the meal is over, is the chefd'oeuvre of the

whole performance. The little, precocious, fullblown beauty of four signifies that she has completed her

mealor is "through" her dinner, as she would express itby carefully extricating herself from the napkin

which has been tucked around her. Then the waiter, ever attentive to her movements, draws back the chair on

which she is seated, and the young lady glides to the floor. A little girl in Old England would scramble down,

but little girls in New England never scramble. Her father and mother, who are no more than her chief

ministers, walk before her out of the saloon, and then sheswims after them. But swimming is not the

proper word. Fishes, in making their way through the water, assist, or rather impede, their motion with no

dorsal wriggle. No animal taught to move directly by its Creator adopts a gait so useless, and at the same time

so graceless. Many women, having received their lessons in walking from a less eligible instructor, do move

in this way, and such women this unfortunate little lady has been instructed to copy. The peculiar step to

which I allude is to be seen often on the boulevards in Paris. It is to be seen more often in secondrate French

towns, and among fourthrate French women. Of all signs in women betokening vulgarity, bad taste, and

aptitude to bad morals, it is the surest. And this is the gait of going which American mothers some

American mothers I should saylove to teach their daughters! As a comedy at a hotel it is very delightful,

To me Newport could never be a place charming by reason of its own charms. That it is a very pleasant place

when it is full of people and the people are in spirits and happy, I do not doubt. But then the visitors would

bring, as far as I am concerned, the pleasantness with them. The coast is not fine. To those who know the best

portions of the coast of Wales or Cornwallor better still, the western coast of Ireland, of Clare and Kerry

for instanceit would not be in any way remarkable. It is by no means equal to Dieppe or Biarritz, and not

to be talked of in the same breath with Spezzia. The hotels, too, are all built away from the sea; so that one

cannot sit and watch the play of the waves from one's windows. Nor are there pleasant rambling paths down

among the rocks, and from one short strand to another. There is excellent bathing for those who like bathing

on shelving sand. I don't. The spot is about half a mile from the hotels, and to this the bathers are carried in

omnibuses. Till one o'clock ladies bathe, which operation, however, does not at all militate against the

bathing of men, but rather necessitates it as regards those men who have ladies with them. For here ladies and

gentlemen bathe in decorous dresses, and are very polite to each other. I must say that I think the ladies have

the best of it. My idea of sea bathing, for my own gratification, is not compatible with a full suit of clothing. I

own that my tastes are vulgar, and perhaps indecent; but I love to jump into the deep, clear sea from off a

rock, and I love to be hampered by no outward impediments as I do so. For ordinary bathers, for all ladies,

and for men less savage in their instincts than I am, the bathing at Newport is very good.

The private housesvilla residences as they would be termed by an auctioneer in Englandare excellent.

Many of them are, in fact, large mansions, and are surrounded with grounds which, as the shrubs grow up,

will be very beautiful. Some have large, wellkept lawns, stretching down to the rocks, and these, to my

taste, give the charm to Newport. They extend about two miles along the coast. Should my lot have made me

a citizen of the United States, I should have had no objection to become the possessor of one of these "villa

residences;" but I do not think that I should have "gone in" for hotel life at Newport.

We hired saddlehorses, and rode out nearly the length of the island. It was all very well, but there was little

in it remarkable either as regards cultivation or scenery. We found nothing that it would be possible either to

describe or remember. The Americans of the United States have had time to build and populate vast cities,

but they have not yet had time to surround themselves with pretty scenery. Outlying grand scenery is given

by nature; but the prettiness of home scenery is a work of art. It comes from the thorough draining of land,

from the planting and subsequent thinning of trees, from the controlling of waters, and constant use of minute

patches of broken land. In another hundred years or so, Rhode Island may be, perhaps, as pretty as the Isle of

Wight. The horses which we got were not good. They were unhandy and badly mouthed, and that which my

wife rode was altogether ignorant of the art of walking. We hired them from an Englishman who had

established himself at New York as a ridingmaster for ladies, and who had come to Newport for the season

on the same business. He complained to me with much bitterness of the saddle horses which came in his

wayof course thinking that it was the special business of a country to produce saddlehorses, as I think it

the special business of a country to produce pens, ink, and paper of good quality. According to him, riding

has not yet become an American art, and hence the awkwardness of American horses. "Lord bless you, sir!

they don't give an animal a chance of a mouth." In this he alluded only, I presume, to saddlehorses. I know

nothing of the trotting horses, but I should imagine that a fine mouth must be an essential requisite for a

trotting match in harness. As regards riding at Newport, we were not tempted to repeat the experiment. The

number of carriages which we saw there remembering as I did that the place was comparatively

emptyand their general smartness, surprised me very much. It seemed that every lady, with a house of her

own, had also her own carriage. These carriages were always open, and the law of the land imperatively

demands that the occupants shall cover their knees with a worked worsted apron of brilliant colors. These

aprons at first I confess seemed tawdry; but the eye soon becomes used to bright colors, in carriage aprons as

Rhode Island, as the State is usually called, is the smallest State in the Union. I may perhaps best show its

disparity to other States by saying that New York extends about two hundred and fifty miles from north to

south, and the same distance from east to west; whereas the State called Rhode Island is about forty miles

long by twenty broad, independently of certain small islands. It would, in fact, not form a considerable

addition if added on to many of the other States. Nevertheless, it has all the same powers of self government

as are possessed by such nationalities as the States of New York and Pennsylvania, and sends two Senators to

the Senate at Washington, as do those enormous States. Small as the State is, Rhode Island itself forms but a

small portion of it. The authorized and proper name of the State is Providence Plantation and Rhode Island.

Roger Williams was the first founder of the colony, and he established himself on the mainland at a spot

which he called Providence. Here now stands the City of Providence, the chief town of the State; and a

thriving, comfortable town it seems to be, full of banks, fed by railways and steamers, and going ahead quite

Rhode Island, as I have said, has all the attributes of government in common with her stouter and more

famous sisters. She has a governor, and an upper house and a lower house of legislature; and she is somewhat

fantastic in the use of these constitutional powers, for she calls on them to sit now in one town and now in

another. Providence is the capital of the State; but the Rhode Island parliament sits sometimes at Providence

and sometimes at Newport. At stated times also it has to collect itself at Bristol, and at other stated times at

Kingston, and at others at East Greenwich. Of all legislative assemblies it is the most peripatetic. Universal

suffrage does not absolutely prevail in this State, a certain property qualification being necessary to confer a

right to vote even for the State representatives. I should think it would be well for all parties if the whole

State could be swallowed up by Massachusetts or by Connecticut, either of which lie conveniently for the

feat; but I presume that any suggestion of such a nature would be regarded as treason by the men of

We returned back to Boston by Attleborough, a town at which, in ordinary times, the whole population is

supported by the jewelers' trade. It is a place with a specialty, upon which specialty it has thriven well and

become a town. But the specialty is one ill adapted for times of war and we were assured that the trade was

for the present at an end. What man could nowadays buy jewels, or even what woman, seeing that

everything would be required for the war? I do not say that such abstinence from luxury has been begotten

altogether by a feeling of patriotism. The direct taxes which all Americans will now be called on to pay, have

had and will have much to do with such abstinence. In the mean time the poor jewelers of Attleborough have

Perhaps I ought to assume that all the world in England knows that that portion of the United States called

New England consists of the six States of Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and

Rhode Island. This is especially the land of Yankees, and none can properly be called Yankees but those who

belong to New England. I have named the States as nearly as may be in order from the north downward. Of

Rhode Island, the smallest State in the Union, I have already said what little I have to say. Of these six States

Boston may be called the capital. Not that it is so in any civil or political sense; it is simply the capital of

Massachusetts. But as it is the Athens of the Western world; as it was the cradle of American freedom; as

everybody of course knows that into Boston harbor was thrown the tea which George III. would tax, and that

at Boston, on account of that and similar taxes, sprang up the new revolution; and as it has grown in wealth,

and fame, and size beyond other towns in New England, it may be allowed to us to regard it as the capital of

these six Northern States, without guilt of lese majeste toward the other five. To me, I confess this Northern

division of our onceunruly colonies is, and always has been, the dearest. I am no Puritan myself, and fancy

that, had I lived in the days of the Puritans, I should have been antiPuritan to the full extent of my

capabilities. But I should have been so through ignorance and prejudice, and actuated by that love of existing

rights and wrongs which men call loyalty. If the Canadas were to rebel now, I should be for putting down the

Canadians with a strong hand; but not the less have I an idea that it will become the Canadas to rebel and

assert their independence at some future period, unless it be conceded to them without such rebellion. Who,

on looking back, can now refuse to admire the political aspirations of the English Puritans, or decline to

acknowledge the beauty and fitness of what they did? It was by them that these States of New England were

colonized. They came hither, stating themselves to be pilgrims, and as such they first placed their feet on that

hallowed rock at Plymouth, on the shore of Massachusetts. They came here driven by no thirst of conquest,

by no greed for gold, dreaming of no Western empire such as Cortez had achieved and Raleigh had

meditated. They desired to earn their bread in the sweat of their brow, worshiping God according to their own

lights, living in harmony under their own laws, and feeling that no master could claim a right to put a heel

upon their necks. And be it remembered that here in England, in those days, earthly masters were still apt to

put their heels on the necks of men. The Star Chamber was gone, but Jeffreys had not yet reigned. What

earthly aspirations were ever higher than these, or more manly? And what earthly efforts ever led to grander

We determined to go to Portland, in Maine, from thence to the White Mountains in New Hampshirethe

American Alps, as they love to call themand then on to Quebec, and up through the two Canadas to

Niagara; and this route we followed. From Boston to Portland we traveled by railroadthe carriages on

which are in America always called cars. And here I beg, once for all, to enter my protest loudly against the

manner in which these conveyances are conducted. The one grand faultthere are other smaller faultsbut

the one grand fault is that they admit but one class. Two reasons for this are given. The first is that the

finances of the companies will not admit of a divided accommodation; and the second is that the republican

nature of the people will not brook a superior or aristocratic classification of traveling. As regards the first, I

do not in the least believe in it. If a more expensive manner of railway traveling will pay in England, it would

surely do so here. Were a better class of carriages organized, as large a portion of the population would use

them in the United States as in any country in Europe. And it seems to be evident that in arranging that there

shall be only one rate of traveling, the price is enhanced on poor travelers exactly in proportion as it is made

cheap to those who are not poor. For the poorer classes, traveling in America is by no means cheap, the

average rate being, as far as I can judge, fully three halfpence a mile. It is manifest that dearer rates for one

class would allow of cheaper rates for the other; and that in this manner general traveling would be

But I do not believe that the question of expenditure has had anything to do with it. I conceive it to be true

that the railways are afraid to put themselves at variance with the general feeling of the people. If so, the

railways may be right. But then, on the other band, the general feeling of the people must in such case be

wrong. Such a feeling argues a total mistake as to the nature of that liberty and equality for the security of

which the people are so anxious, and that mistake the very one which has made shipwreck so many attempts

at freedom in other countries. It argues that confusion between social and political equality which has led

astray multitudes who have longed for liberty fervently, but who have not thought of it carefully. If a

firstclass railway carriage should be held as offensive, so should a firstclass house, or a firstclass horse,

or a firstclass dinner. But first class houses, firstclass horses, and firstclass dinners are very rife in

America. Of course it may be said that the expenditure shown in these lastnamed objects is private

expenditure, and cannot be controlled; and that railway traveling is of a public nature, and can be made

subject to public opinion. But the fault is in that public opinion which desires to control matters of this nature.

Such an arrangement partakes of all the vice of a sumptuary law, and sumptuary laws are in their very

essence mistakes. It is well that a man should always have all for which he is willing to pay. If he desires and

obtains more than is good for him, the punishment, and thus also the preventive, will come from other

It will be said that the American cars are good enough for all purposes. The seats are not very hard, and the

room for sitting is sufficient. Nevertheless I deny that they are good enough for all purposes. They are very

long, and to enter them and find a place often requires a struggle and almost a fight. There is rarely any

person to tell a stranger which car he should enter. One never meets an uncivil or unruly man, but the women

of the lower ranks are not courteous. American ladies love to lie at ease in their carriages, as thoroughly as do

our women in Hyde Park; and to those who are used to such luxury, traveling by railroad in their own country

must be grievous. I would not wish to be thought a Sybarite myself, or to be held as complaining because I

have been compelled to give up my seat to women with babies and bandboxes who have accepted the

courtesy with very scanty grace. I have borne worse things than these, and have roughed it much in my days,

from want of means and other reasons. Nor am I yet so old but what I can rough it still. Nevertheless I like to

see things as well done as is practicable, and railway traveling in the States is not well done. I feel bound to

Few cities, or localities for cities, have fairer natural advantages than Portland and I am bound to say that the

people of Portland have done much in turning them to account. This town is not the capital of the State in a

political point of view. Augusta, which is farther to the north, on the Kennebec River, is the seat of the State

government for Maine. It is very generally the case that the States do not hold their legislatures and carry on

their government at their chief towns. Augusta and not Portland is the capital of Maine. Of the State of New

York, Albany is the capital, and not the city which bears the State's name. And of Pennsylvania, Harrisburg

and not Philadelphia is the capital. I think the idea has been that oldfashioned notions were bad in that they

were old fashioned; and that a new people, bound by no prejudices, might certainly make improvement by

choosing for themselves new ways. If so, the American politicians have not been the first in the world who

have thought that any change must be a change for the better. The assigned reason is the centrical position of

the selected political capitals; but I have generally found the real commercial capital to be easier of access

than the smaller town in which the two legislative houses are obliged to collect themselves.

What must be the natural excellence of the harbor of Portland, will be understood when it is borne in mind

that the Great Eastern can enter it at all times, and that it can lay along the wharves at any hour of the tide.

The wharves which have been prepared for her and of which I will say a word further byandbyare

joined to, and in fact, are a portion of, the station of the Grand Trunk Railway, which runs from Portland up

to Canada. So that passengers landing at Portland out of a vessel so large even as the Great Eastern can walk

at once on shore, and goods can be passed on to the railway without any of the cost of removal. I will not say

that there is no other harbor in the world that would allow of this, but I do not know any other that would do

From Portland a line of railway, called as a whole by the name of the Canada Grand Trunk Line, runs across

the State of Maine, through the northern parts of New Hampshire and Vermont, to Montreal, a branch

striking from Richmond, a little within the limits of Canada, to Quebec, and down the St. Lawrence to

Riviere du Loup. The main line is continued from Montreal, through Upper Canada to Toronto, and from

thence to Detroit in the State of Michigan. The total distance thus traversed is, in a direct line, about 900

miles. From Detroit there is railway communications through the immense Northwestern States of Michigan,

Wisconsin, and Illinois, than which perhaps the surface of the globe affords no finer districts for purposes of

agriculture. The produce of the two Canadas must be poured forth to the Eastern world, and the men of the

Eastern world must throng into these lands by means of this railroad, and, as at present arranged, through the

harbor of Portland. At present the line has been opened, and they who have opened are sorely suffering in

pocket for what they have done. The question of the railway is rather one applying to Canada than to the State

But the Great Eastern has never been to Portland, and as far as I know has no intention of going there. She

was, I believe, built with that object. At any rate, it was proclaimed during her building that such was her

destiny, and the Portlanders believed it with a perfect faith. They went to work and built wharves expressly

for her; two wharves prepared to fit her two gangways, or ways of exit and entrance. They built a huge hotel

to receive her passengers. They prepared for her advent with a full conviction that a millennium of trade was

about to be wafted to their happy port. "Sir, the town has expended two hundred thousand dollars in

expectation of that ship, and that ship has deceived us." So was the matter spoken of to me by an intelligent

Portlander. I explained to that intelligent gentleman that two hundred thousand dollars would go a very little

way toward making up the loss which the illfortuned vessel had occasioned on the other side of the water.

He did not in words express gratification at this information, but he looked it. The matter was as it were a

partnership without deed of contract between the Portlanders and the shareholders of the vessel, and the

Portlanders, though they also have suffered their losses, have not had the worst of it.

But there are still good days in store for the town. Though the Great Eastern has not gone there, other ships

from Europe, more profitable if less in size, must eventually find their way thither. At present the Canada line

of packets runs to Portland only during those months in which it is shut out from the St. Lawrence and

Quebec by ice. But the St. Lawrence and Quebec cannot offer the advantages which Portland enjoys, and that

I have said that a good time is coming, but I would by no means wish to signify that the present times in

Portland are bad. So far from it that I doubt whether I ever saw a town with more evident signs of prosperity.

It has about it every mark of ample means, and no mark of poverty. It contains about 27,000 people, and for

that population covers a very large space of ground. The streets are broad and well built, the main streets not

running in those absolutely straight parallels which are so common in American towns, and are so distressing

to English eyes and English feelings. All these, except the streets devoted exclusively to business, are shaded

on both sides by trees, generally, if I remember rightly, by the beautiful American elm, whose drooping

boughs have all the grace of the willow without its fantastic melancholy. What the poorer streets of Portland

may be like, I cannot say. I saw no poor street. But in no town of 30,000 inhabitants did I ever see so many

houses which must require an expenditure of from six to eight hundred a year to maintain them.

The place, too, is beautifully situated. It is on a long promontory, which takes the shape of a peninsula, for the

neck which joins it to the mainland is not above half a mile across. But though the town thus stands out into

the sea, it is not exposed and bleak. The harbor, again, is surrounded by land, or so guarded and locked by

islands as to form a series of saltwater lakes running round the town. Of those islands there are, of course,

three hundred and sixtyfive. Travelers who write their travels are constantly called upon to record that

number, so that it may now be considered as a superlative in local phraseology, signifying a very great many

indeed. The town stands between two hills, the suburbs or outskirts running up on to each of them. The one

looking out toward the sea is called Mountjoy, though the obstinate Americans will write it Munjoy on their

maps. From thence the view out to the harbor and beyond the harbor to the islands is, I may not say

unequaled, or I shall be guilty of running into superlatives myself, but it is in its way equal to anything I have

seen. Perhaps it is more like Cork harbor, as seen from certain heights over Passage, than anything else I can

remember; but Portland harbor, though equally landlocked, is larger; and then from Portland harbor there is,

as it were, a river outlet running through delicious islands, most unalluring to the navigator, but delicious to

the eyes of an uncommercial traveler. There are in all four outlets to the sea, one of which appears to have

been made expressly for the Great Eastern. Then there is the hill looking inward. If it has a name, I forget it.

The view from this hill is also over the water on each side, and, though not so extensive, is perhaps as

The ways of the people seemed to be quiet, smooth, orderly, and republican. There is nothing to drink in

Portland, of course; for, thanks to Mr. Neal Dow, the Father Matthew of the State of Maine, the Maine liquor

law is still in force in that State. There is nothing to drink, I should say, in such orderly houses as that I

selected. "People do drink some in the town, they say," said my hostess to me, "and liquor is to be got. But I

never venture to sell any. An illnatured person might turn on me; and where should I be then?" I did not

press her, and she was good enough to put a bottle of porter at my right hand at dinner, for which I observed

she made no charge. "But they advertise beer in the shop windows," I said to a man who was driving

me"Scotch ale and bitter beer. A man can get drunk on them." "Waal, yes. If he goes to work hard, and

drinks a bucketful," said the driver, "perhaps he may." From which and other things I gathered that the men

of Maine drank pottle deep before Mr. Neal Dow brought his exertions to a successful termination.

The Maine liquor law still stands in Maine, and is the law of the land throughout New England; but it is not

actually put in force in the other States. By this law no man may retail wine, spirits, or, in truth, beer, except

with a special license, which is given only to those who are presumed to sell them as medicines. A man may

have what he likes in his own cellar for his own usesuch, at least, is the actual working of the lawbut

may not obtain it at hotels and public houses. This law, like all sumptuary laws, must fail. And it is fast

failing even in Maine. But it did appear to me, from such information as I could collect, that the passing of it

had done much to hinder and repress a habit of hard drinking which was becoming terribly common, not only

But, if the men and women of Portland may not drink, they may eat; and it is a place, I should say, in which

good living on that side of the question is very rife. It has an air of supreme plenty, as though the agonies of

an empty stomach were never known there. The faces of the people tell of three regular meals of meat a day,

and of digestive powers in proportion. O happy Portlanders, if they only knew their own good fortune! They

get up early, and go to bed early. The women are comely and sturdy, able to take care of themselves, without

any fallal of chivalry, and the men are sedate, obliging, and industrious. I saw the young girls in the streets

coming home from their tea parties at nine o'clock, many of them alone, and all with some basket in their

hands, which betokened an evening not passed absolutely in idleness. No fear there of unruly questions on the

way, or of insolence from the ill conducted of the other sex. All was, or seemed to be, orderly, sleek, and

unobtrusive. Probably, of all modes of life that are allotted to man by his Creator, life such as this is the most

happy. One hint, however, for improvement, I must give even to Portland: It would be well if they could

I must not leave the town without desiring those who may visit it to mount the observatory. They will from

thence get the best view of the harbor and of the surrounding land; and, if they chance to do so under the

reign of the present keeper of the signals, they will find a man there able and willing to tell them everything

needful about the State of Maine in general and the harbor in particular. He will come out in his shirt sleeves,

and, like a true American, will not at first be very smooth in his courtesy; but he will wax brighter in

conversation, and, if not stroked the wrong way, will turn out to be an uncommonly pleasant fellow. Such I

From Portland we made our way up to the White Mountains, which lay on our route to Canada. Now, I would

ask any of my readers who are candid enough to expose their own ignorance whether they ever heard, or at

any rate whether they know anything, of the White Mountains? As regards myself, I confess that the name

had reached my ears; that I had an indefinite idea that they formed an intermediate stage between the Rocky

Mountains and the Alleghanies; and that they were inhabited either by Mormons, Indians, or simply by black

bears. That there was a district in New England containing mountain scenery superior to much that is yearly

crowded by tourists in Europe, that this is to be reached with ease by railways and stagecoaches, and that it is

dotted with huge hotels almost as thickly as they lie in Switzerland, I had no idea. Much of this scenery, I

say, is superior to the famed and classic lands of Europe. I know nothing, for instance, on the Rhine equal to

Let the visitor of these regions be as late in the year as he can, taking care that he is not so late as to find the

hotels closed. October, no doubt, is the most beautiful month among these mountains; but, according to the

present arrangement of matters here, the hotels are shut up by the end of September. With us, August,

September, and October are the holiday months; whereas our rebel children across the Atlantic love to disport

themselves in July and August. The great beauty of the autumn, or fall, is in the brilliant hues which are then

taken by the foliage. The autumnal tints are fine with us. They are lovely and bright wherever foliage and

vegetation form a part of the beauty of scenery. But in no other land do they approach the brilliancy of the

fall in America. The bright rose color, the rich bronze which is almost purple in its richness, and the glorious

golden yellows must be seen to be understood. By me, at any rate, they cannot be described. They begin to

show themselves in September; and perhaps I might name the latter half of that month as the best time for

I am not going to write a guide book, feeling sure that Mr. Murray will do New England and Canada,

including Niagara, and the Hudson River, with a peep into Boston and New York, before many more seasons

have passed by. But I cannot forbear to tell my countrymen that any enterprising individual, with a hundred

pounds to spend on his holidaya hundred and twenty would make him more comfortable in regard to wine,

washing, and other luxuriesand an absence of two months from his labors, may see as much and do as

much here for the money as he can see or do elsewhere. In some respects he may do more; for he will learn

more of American nature in such a journey than he can ever learn of the nature of Frenchmen or Americans

by such an excursion among them. Some three weeks of the time, or perhaps a day or two over, he must be at

sea, and that portion of his trip will cost him fifty pounds, presuming that he chooses to go in the most

comfortable and costly way; but his time on board ship will not be lost. He will learn to know much of

Americans there, and will perhaps form acquaintances of which he will not altogether lose sight for many a

year. He will land at Boston, and, staying a day or two there, will visit Cambridge, Lowell, and Bunker Hill,

and, if he be that way given, will remember that here live, and occasionally are to be seen alive, men such as

Longfellow, Emerson, Hawthorne, and a host of others, whose names and fames have made Boston the

throne of Western literature. He will then, if he take my advice and follow my track, go by Portland up into

the White Mountains. At Gorham, a station on the Grand Trunk Line, he will find a hotel as good as any of

its kind, and from thence he will take a light wagon, so called in these countries. And here let me presume

that the traveler is not alone: he has his wife or friend, or perhaps a pair of sisters, and in his wagon he will go

up through primeval forests to the Glen House. When there, he will ascend Mount Washington on a pony.

That is de rigueur, and I do not therefore dare to recommend him to omit the ascent. I did not gain much

myself by my labor. He will not stay at the Glen House, but will go on toJackson's I think they call the

next hotel, at which he will sleep. From thence he will take his wagon on through the Notch to the Crawford

house, sleeping there again; and when here, let him, of all things, remember to go up Mount Willard. It is but

a walk of two hours up and down, if so much. When reaching the top, he will be startled to find that he looks

down into the ravine without an inch of foreground. He will come out suddenly on a ledge of rock, from

whence, as it seems, he might leap down at once into the valley below. Then, going on from the Crawford

House, he will be driven through the woods of Cherry Mount, passing, I fear without toll of custom, the

house of my excellent friend Mr. Plaistead, who keeps a hotel at Jefferson. "Sir," said Mr. Plaistead, "I have

everything here that a man ought to want: air, sir, that aint to be got better nowhere; trout, chickens, beef,

mutton, milkand all for a dollar a day! Atop of that hill, sir, there's a view that aint to be beaten this side

of the Atlantic, or I believe the other. And an echo, sir!we've an echo that comes back to us six times, sir;

floating on the light wind, and wafted about from rock to rock, till you would think the angels were talking to

you. If I could raise that echo, sir, every day at command, I'd give a thousand dollars for it. It would be worth

all the money to a house like this." And he waved his hand about from hill to hill, pointing out in graceful

curves the lines which the sounds would take. Had destiny not called on Mr. Plaistead to keep an American

My traveler, however, unless time were plenty with him, would pass Mr. Plaistead, merely lighting a friendly

cigar, or perhaps breaking the Maine liquor law if the weather be warm, and would return to Gorham on the

railway. All this mountain district is in New Hampshire; and, presuming him to be capable of going about the

world with his mouth, ears, and eyes open, he would learn much of the way in which men are settling

themselves in this still sparselypopulated country. Here young farmers go into the woods as they are doing

far down West in the Territories, and buying some hundred acres at perhaps six shillings an acre, fell and

burn the trees, and build their huts, and take the first steps, as far as man's work is concerned, toward

accomplishing the will of the Creator in those regions. For such pioneers of civilization there is still ample

But to return to my traveler, whom, having brought so far, I must send on. Let him go on from Gorham to

Quebec and the heights of Abraham, stopping at Sherbrooke that he might visit from thence the Lake of

Memphra Magog. As to the manner of traveling over this ground I shall say a little in the next chapter, when I

come to the progress of myself and my wife. From Quebec he will go up the St. Lawrence to Montreal. He

will visit Ottawa, the new capital, and Toronto. He will cross the lake to Niagara, resting probably at the

Clifton House on the Canada side. He will then pass on to Albany, taking the Trenton Falls on his way. From

Albany he will go down the Hudson to West Point. He cannot stop at the Catskill Mountains, for the hotel

will be closed. And then he will take the river boat, and in a few hours will find himself at New York. If he

desires to go into American city society, he will find New York agreeable; but in that case he must exceed his

two months. If he do not so desire, a short sojourn at New York will show him all that there is to be seen and

all that there is not to be seen in that great city. That the Cunard line of steamers will bring him safely back to

Liverpool in about eleven days, I need not tell to any Englishman, or, as I believe, to any American. So much,

in the spirit of a guide, I vouchsafe to all who are willing to take my counselthereby anticipating Murray,

I cannot say that I like the hotels in those parts, or, indeed, the mode of life at American hotels in general. In

order that I may not unjustly defame them, I will commence these observations by declaring that they are

cheap to those who choose to practice the economy which they encourage, that the viands are profuse in

quantity and wholesome in quality, that the attendance is quick and unsparing, and that travelers are never

annoyed by that grasping, greedy hunger and thirst after francs and shillings which disgrace, in Europe, many

English and many continental inns. All this is, as must be admitted, great praise; and yet I do not like the

One is in a free country, and has come from a country in which one has been brought up to hug one's

chainsso at least the English traveler is constantly assuredand yet in an American inn one can never do

as one likes. A terrific gong sounds early in the morning, breaking one's sweet slumbers; and then a second

gong, sounding some thirty minutes later, makes you understand that you must proceed to breakfast whether

you be dressed or no. You certainly can go on with your toilet, and obtain your meal after half an hour's

delay. Nobody actually scolds you for so doing, but the breakfast is, as they say in this country, "through."

You sit down alone, and the attendant stands immediately over you. Probably there are two so standing. They

fill your cup the instant it is empty. They tender you fresh food before that which has disappeared from your

plate has been swallowed. They begrudge you no amount that you can eat or drink; but they begrudge you a

single moment that you sit there neither eating nor drinking. This is your fate if you're too late; and therefore,

as a rule, you are not late. In that case, you form one of a long row of eaters who proceed through their work

with a solid energy that is past all praise. It is wrong to say that Americans will not talk at their meals. I never

met but few who would not talk to me, at any rate till I got to the far West; but I have rarely found that they

would address me first. Then the dinner comes earlyat least it always does so in New Englandand the

ceremony is much of the same kind. You came there to eat, and the food is pressed upon you ad nauseam.

But, as far as one can see, there is no drinking. In these days, I am quite aware that drinking has become

improper, even in England. We are apt, at home, to speak of wine as a thing tabooed, wondering how our

fathers lived and swilled. I believe that, as a fact, we drink as much as they did; but, nevertheless, that is our

theory. I confess, however, that I like wine. It is very wicked, but it seems to me that my dinner goes down

better with a glass of sherry than without it. As a rule, I always did get it at hotels in America. But I had no

comfort with it. Sherry they do not understand at all. Of course I am only speaking of hotels. Their claret they

get exclusively from Mr. Gladstone, and, looking at the quality, have a right to quarrel even with Mr.

Gladstone's price. But it is not the quality of the wine that I hereby intend to subject to ignominy so much as

the want of any opportunity for drinking it. After dinner, if all that I hear be true, the gentlemen occasionally

drop into the hotel bar and "liquor up." Or rather this is not done specially after dinner, but, without prejudice

to the hour, at any time that may be found desirable. I also have "liquored up," but I cannot say that I enjoy

the process. I do not intend hereby to accuse Americans of drinking much; but I maintain that what they do

drink, they drink in the most uncomfortable manner that the imagination can devise.

The greatest luxury at an English inn is one's tea, one's fire, and one's book. Such an arrangement is not

practicable at an American hotel. Tea, like breakfast, is a great meal, at which meat should be eaten, generally

with the addition of much jelly, jam, and sweet preserve; but no person delays over his teacup. I love to have

my teacup emptied and filled with gradual pauses, so that time for oblivion may accrue, and no exact record

be taken. No such meal is known at American hotels. It is possible to hire a separate room, and have one's

meals served in it; but in doing so a man runs counter to all the institutions of the country, and a woman does

so equally. A stranger does not wish to be viewed askance by all around him; and the rule which holds that

men at Rome should do as Romans do, if true anywhere, is true in America. Therefore I say that in an

In what I have here said I do not intend to speak of hotels in the largest cities, such as Boston or New York.

At them meals are served in the public room separately, and pretty nearly at any or at all hours of the day; but

at them also the attendant stands over the unfortunate eater and drives him. The guest feels that he is

controlled by laws adapted to the usages of the Medes and Persians. He is not the master on the occasion, but

the slavea slave well treated, and fattened up to the full endurance of humanity, but yet a slave.

From Gorham we went on to Island Pond, a station on the same Canada Trunk Railway, on a Saturday

evening, and were forced by the circumstances of the line to pass a melancholy Sunday at the place. The cars

do not run on Sundays, and run but once a day on other days over the whole line, so that, in fact, the

impediment to traveling spreads over two days. Island Pond is a lake with an island in it; and the place which

has taken the name is a small village, about ten years old, standing in the midst of uncut forests, and has been

created by the railway. In ten years more there will no doubt be a spreading town at Island Pond; the forests

will recede; and men, rushing out from the crowded cities, will find here food, and space, and wealth. For

myself, I never remain long in such a spot without feeling thankful that it has not been my mission to be a

The farther that I got away from Boston the less strong did I find the feeling of anger against England. There,

as I have said before, there was a bitter animosity against the mother country in that she had shown no open

sympathy with the North. In Maine and New Hampshire I did not find this to be the case to any violent

degree. Men spoke of the war as openly as they did at Boston, and, in speaking to me, generally connected

England with the subject. But they did so simply to ask questions as to England's policy. What will she do for

cotton when her operatives are really pressed? Will she break the blockade? Will she insist on a right to trade

with Charleston and new Orleans? I always answered that she would insist on no such right, if that right were

denied to others and the denial enforced. England, I took upon myself to say, would not break a veritable

blockade, let her be driven to what shifts she might in providing for her operatives. "Ah! that's what we fear,"

a very stanch patriot said to me, if words may be taken as a proof of stauchness. "If England allies herself

with the Southerners, all our trouble is for nothing." It was impossible not to feel that all that was said was

complimentary to England. It is her sympathy that the Northern men desire, to her cooperation that they

would willingly trust, on her honesty that they would choose to depend. It is the same feeling whether it

shows itself in anger or in curiosity. An American, whether he be embarked in politics, in literature, or in

commerce, desires English admiration, English appreciation of his energy, and English encouragement. The

anger of Boston is but a sign of its affectionate friendliness. What feeling is so hot as that of a friend when his

dearest friend refuses to share his quarrel or to sympathize in his wrongs! To my thinking, the men of Boston

are wrong and unreasonable in their anger; but were I a man of Boston, I should be as wrong and as

unreasonable as any of them. All that, however, will come right. I will not believe it possible that there

In the guidance of those who are not quite au fait at the details of American government, I will here in a few

words describe the outlines of State government as it is arranged in New Hampshire. The States, in this

respect, are not all alike, the modes of election of their officers, and periods of service, being different. Even

the franchise is different in different States. Universal suffrage is not the rule throughout the United States,

though it is, I believe, very generally thought in England that such is the fact. I need hardly say that the laws

in the different States may be as various as the different legislatures may choose to make them.

In New Hampshire universal suffrage does prevail, which means that any man may vote who lives in the

State, supports himself, and assists to support the poor by means of poor rates. A governor of the State is

elected for one year only; but it is customary, or at any rate not uncustomary, to reelect him for a second

year. His salary is a thousand dollars a year, or two hundred pounds. It must be presumed, therefore, that

glory, and not money, is his object. To him is appended a Council, by whose opinions he must in a great

degree be guided. His functions are to the State what those of the President are to the country; and, for the

short period of his reign, he is as it were a Prime Minister of the State, with certain very limited regal

attributes. He, however, by no means enjoys the regal attribute of doing no wrong. In every State there is an

Assembly, consisting of two houses of elected representativesthe Senate, or upper house, and the House of

Representatives so called. In New Hampshire, this Assembly or Parliament is styled The General Court of

New Hampshire. It sits annually, whereas the legislature in many States sits only every other year. Both

houses are reelected every year. This Assembly passes laws with all the power vested in our Parliament, but

such laws apply of course only to the State in question. The Governor of the State has a veto on all bills

passed by the two houses. But, after receipt of his veto, any bill so stopped by the Governor can be passed by

a majority of twothirds in each house. The General Court usually sits for about ten weeks. There are in the

State eight judgesthree supreme, who sit at Concord, the capital, as a court of appeal both in civil and

criminal matters, and then five lesser judges, who go circuit through the State. The salaries of these lesser

judges do not exceed from 250 pounds to 300 pounds a year; but they are, I believe, allowed to practice as

lawyers in any counties except those in which they sit as judgesbeing guided, in this respect, by the same

law as that which regulates the work of assistant barristers in Ireland. The assistant barristers in Ireland are

attached to the counties as judges at Quarter Sessions, but they practice, or may practice, as advocates in all

counties except that to which they are so attached. The judges in New Hampshire are appointed by the

Governor, with the assistance of his Council. No judge in New Hampshire can hold his seat after he has

So much at the present moment with reference to the government of New Hampshire.

The Grand Trunk Railway runs directly from Portland to Montreal, which latter town is, in fact, the capital of

Canada, though it never has been so exclusively, and, as it seems, never is to be so as regards authority,

government, and official name. In such matters, authority and government often say one thing while

commerce says another; but commerce always has the best of it and wins the game, whatever government

may decree. Albany, in this way, is the capital of the State of New York, as authorized by the State

government; but New York has made herself the capital of America, and will remain so. So also Montreal has

made herself the capital of Canada. The Grand Trunk Railway runs from Portland to Montreal; but there is a

branch from Richmond, a township within the limits of Canada, to Quebec; so that travelers to Quebec, as we

Quebec is the present seat of Canadian government, its turn for that honor having come round some two years

ago; but it is about to be deserted in favor of Ottawa, a town which is, in fact, still to be built on the river of

that name. The public edifices are, however, in a state of forwardness; and if all goes well, the Governor, the

two Councils, and the House of Representatives will be there before two years are over, whether there be any

town to receive them or no. Who can think of Ottawa without bidding his brothers to row, and reminding

them that the stream runs fast, that the rapids are near and the daylight past? I asked, as a matter of course,

whether Quebec was much disgusted at the proposed change, and I was told that the feeling was not now very

strong. Had it been determined to make Montreal the permanent seat of government, Quebec and Toronto

I must confess that, in going from the States into Canada, an Englishman is struck by the feeling that he is

going from a richer country into one that is poorer, and from a greater country into one that is less. An

Englishman going from a foreign land into a land which is in one sense his own, of course finds much in the

change to gratify him. He is able to speak as the master, instead of speaking as the visitor. His tongue

becomes more free, and he is able to fall back to his national habits and national expressions. He no longer

feels that he is admitted on sufferance, or that he must be careful to respect laws which he does not quite

understand. This feeling was naturally strong in an Englishman in passing from the States into Canada at the

time of my visit. English policy, at that moment, was violently abused by Americans, and was upheld as

violently in Canada. But nevertheless, with all this, I could not enter Canada without seeing, and hearing, and

feeling that there was less of enterprise around me there than in the States, less of general movement, and less

of commercial success. To say why this is so would require a long and very difficult discussion, and one

which I am not prepared to hold. It may be that a dependent country, let the feeling of dependence be ever so

much modified by powers of selfgovernance, cannot hold its own against countries which are in all respects

their own masters. Few, I believe, would now maintain that the Northern States of America would have risen

in commerce as they have risen, had they still remained attached to England as colonies. If this be so, that

privilege of selfrule which they have acquired has been the cause of their success. It does not follow as a

consequence that the Canadas, fighting their battle alone in the world, could do as the States have done.

Climate, or size, or geographical position might stand in their way. But I fear that it does follow, if not as a

logical conclusion, at least as a natural result, that they never will do so well unless some day they shall so

fight their battle. It may be argued that Canada has in fact the power of selfgovernance; that she rules herself

and makes her own laws as England does; that the Sovereign of England has but a veto on those laws, and

stands in regard to Canada exactly as she does in regard to England. This is so, I believe, by the letter of the

Constitution, but is not so in reality, and cannot in truth be so in any colony even of Great Britain. In England

the political power of the Crown is nothing. The Crown has no such power, and nowadays makes no

attempt at having any. But the political power of the Crown as it is felt in Canada is everything. The Crown

has no such power in England, because it must change its ministers whenever called upon to do so by the

House of Commons. But the Colonial Minister in Downing Street is the Crown's Prime Minister as regards

the colonies, and he is changed not as any colonial House of Assembly may wish, but in accordance with the

will of the British Commons. Both the houses in Canadathat, namely, of the Representatives, or Lower

Houses and of the Legislative Council, or Upper Houseare now elective, and are filled without direct

influence from the Crown. The power of selfgovernment is as thoroughly developed as perhaps may be

possible in a colony. But, after all, it is a dependent form of government, and as such may perhaps not

conduce to so thorough a development of the resources of the country as might be achieve under a ruling

power of its own, to which the welfare of Canada itself would be the chief if not the only object.

I beg that it may not be considered from this that I would propose to Canada to set up for itself at once and

declare itself independent. In the first place I do not wish to throw over Canada; and in the next place I do not

wish to throw over England. If such a separation shall ever take place, I trust that it may be caused, not by

Canadian violence, but by British generosity. Such a separation, however, never can be good till Canada

herself shall wish it. That she does not wish it yet, is certain. If Canada ever should wish it, and should ever

press for the accomplishment of such a wish, she must do so in connection with Nova Scotia and New

Brunswick. If at any future time there be formed such a separate political power, it must include the whole of

In the mean time, I return to my assertion, that in entering Canada from the States one clearly comes from a

richer to a poorer country. When I have said so, I have heard no Canadian absolutely deny it; though in

refraining from denying it, they have usually expressed a general conviction, that in settling himself for life it

is better for a man to set up his staff in Canada than in the States. "I do not know that we are richer," a

Canadian says, "but on the whole we are doing better and are happier." Now, I regard the golden rules against

the love of gold, the "aurum irrepertum et sic melius situm," and the rest of it, as very excellent when applied

to individuals. Such teaching has not much effect, perhaps, in inducing men to abstain from wealth; but such

effect as it may have will be good. Men and women do, I suppose, learn to be happier when they learn to

disregard riches. But such a doctrine is absolutely false as regards a nation. National wealth produces

education and progress, and through them produces plenty of food, good morals, and all else that is good. It

produces luxury also, and certain evils attendant on luxury. But I think it may be clearly shown, and that it is

universally acknowledged, that national wealth produces individual wellbeing. If this be so, the argument of

To the feeling of a refined gentleman, or of a lady whose eye loves to rest always on the beautiful, an

agricultural population that touches its hat, eats plain victuals, and goes to church, is more picturesque and

delightful than the thronged crowd of a great city, by which a lady and gentleman is hustled without remorse,

which never touches its hat, and perhaps also never goes to church. And as we are always tempted to approve

of that which we like, and to think that that which is good to us is good altogether, wethe refined

gentlemen and ladies of England I meanare very apt to prefer the hat touchers to those who are not hat

touchers. In doing so we intend, and wish, and strive to be philanthropical. We argue to ourselves that the

dear excellent lower classes receive an immense amount of consoling happiness from that ceremony of hat

touching, and quite pity those who, unfortunately for themselves, know nothing about it. I would ask any

such lady or gentleman whether he or she does not feel a certain amount of commiseration for the rudeness of

the townbred artisan who walks about with his hands in his pockets as though he recognized a superior in no

But that which is good and pleasant to us is often not good and pleasant altogether. Every man's chief object

is himself; and the philanthropist should endeavor to regard this question, not from his own point of view, but

from that which would be taken by the individuals for whose happiness he is anxious. The honest, happy

rustic makes a very pretty picture; and I hope that honest rustics are happy. But the man who earns two

shillings a day in the country would always prefer to earn five in the town. The man who finds himself bound

to touch his hat to the squire would be glad to dispense with that ceremony, if circumstances would permit. A

crowd of greasycoated town artisans, with grimy hands and pale faces, is not in itself delectable; but each of

that crowd has probably more of the goods of life than any rural laborer. He thinks more, reads more, feels

more, sees more, hears more, learns more, and lives more. It is through great cities that the civilization of the

world has progressed, and the charms of life been advanced. Man in his rudest state begins in the country,

and in his most finished state may retire there. But the battle of the world has to be fought in the cities; and

the country that shows the greatest city population is ever the one that is going most ahead in the world's

If this be so, I say that the argument of my Canadian friend was naught. It may be that he does not desire

crowded cities, with dirty, independent artisans; that to view small farmers, living sparingly, but with content,

on the sweat of their brows, are surer signs of a country's prosperity than hives of men and smoking

chimneys. He has probably all the upper classes of England with him in so thinking, and as far as I know the

upper classes of all Europe. But the crowds themselves, the thick masses of which are composed those

populations which we count by millions, are against him. Up in those regions which are watered by the great

lakes Lake Michigan, Lake Huron, Lake Erie, Lake Ontarioand by the St. Lawrence, the country is

divided between Canada and the States. The cities in Canada were settled long before those in the States.

Quebec and Montreal were important cities before any of the towns belonging to the States had been

founded. But taking the population of three of each, including the three largest Canadian towns, we find they

are as follows: In Canada, Quebec has 60,000; Montreal, 85,000; Toronto, 55,000. In the States, Chicago has

120,000; Detroit, 70,000; and Buffalo, 80,000. If the population had been equal, it would have shown a great

superiority in the progress of those belonging to the States, because the towns of Canada had so great a start.

But the numbers are by no means equal, showing instead a vast preponderance in favor of the States. There

can be no stronger proof that the States are advancing faster than Canada, and in fact doing better than

Quebec is a very picturesque town; from its natural advantages almost as much so as any town I know.

Edinburgh, perhaps, and Innspruck may beat it. But Quebec has very little to recommend it beyond the

beauty of its situation. Its public buildings and works of art do not deserve a long narrative. It stands at the

confluence of the St. Lawrence and St. Charles Rivers; the best part of the town is built high upon the

rockthe rock which forms the celebrated plains of Abram; and the view from thence down to the

mountains which shut in the St. Lawrence is magnificent. The best point of view is, I think, from the

esplanade, which is distant some five minutes' walk from the hotels. When that has been seen by the light of

the setting sun, and seen again, if possible, by moonlight, the most considerable lion of Quebec may be

The most considerable lion, according to my taste. Lions which roar merely by the force of association of

ideas are not to me very valuable beasts. To many the rock over which Wolfe climbed to the plains of Abram,

and on the summit of which he fell in the hour of victory, gives to Quebec its chiefest charm. But I confess to

being somewhat dull in such matters. I can count up Wolfe, and realize his glory, and put my hand as it were

upon his monument, in my own room at home as well as I can at Quebec. I do not say this boastingly or with

pride, but truly acknowledging a deficiency. I have never cared to sit in chairs in which old kings have sat, or

Nevertheless, and as a matter of course, I went to see the rock, and can only say, as so many have said before

me, that it is very steep. It is not a rock which I think it would be difficult for any ordinarily active man to

climb, providing, of course, that he was used to such work. But Wolfe took regiments of men up there at

night, and that in face of enemies who held the summits. One grieves that he should have fallen there and

have never tasted the sweet cup of his own fame. For fame is sweet, and the praise of ones's brother men the

sweetest draught which a man can drain. But now, and for coming ages, Wolfe's name stands higher than it

But there is another very worthy lion near Quebecthe Falls, namely, of Montmorency. They are eight miles

from the town, and the road lies through the suburb of St. Roch, and the long, straggling French village of

Beauport. These are in themselves very interesting, as showing the quiet, orderly, unimpulsive manner in

which the French Canadians live. Such is their character, although there have been such men as Papineau,

and although there have been times in which English rule has been unpopular with the French settlers. As far

as I could learn there is no such feeling now. These people are quiet, contented; and, as regards a sufficiency

of the simple staples of living, sufficiently well to do. They are thrifty, but they do not thrive. They do not

advance, and push ahead, and become a bigger people from year to year, as settlers in a new country should

do. They do not even hold their own in comparison with those around them. But has not this always been the

case with colonists out of France; and has it not always been the case with Roman Catholics when they have

been forced to measure themselves against Protestants? As to the ultimate fate in the world of this people, one

can hardly form a speculation. There are, as nearly as I could learn, about 800,000 of them in Lower Canada;

but it seems that the wealth and commercial enterprise of the country is passing out of their hands. Montreal,

and even Quebec, are, I think, becoming less and less French every day; but in the villages and on the small

farms the French still remain, keeping up their language, their habits, and their religion. In the cities they are

becoming hewers of wood and drawers of water. I am inclined to think that the same will ultimately be their

fate in the country. Surely one may declare as a fact that a Roman Catholic population can never hold its

ground against one that is Protestant. I do not speak of numbers; for the Roman Catholics will increase and

multiply, and stick by their religion, although their religion entails poverty and dependence, as they have

done and still do in Ireland. But in progress and wealth the Romanists have always gone to the wall when the

two have been made to compete together. And yet I love their religion. There is something beautiful, and

almost divine, in the faith and obedience of a true son of the Holy Mother. I sometimes fancy that I would

fain be a Roman Catholicif I could; as also I would often wish to be still a childif that were possible.

All this is on the way to the Falls of Montmorency. These falls are placed exactly at the mouth of the little

river of the same name, so that it may be said absolutely to fall into the St. Lawrence. The people of the

country, however, declare that the river into which the waters of the Montmorency fall is not the St.

Lawrence, but the Charles. Without a map I do not know that I can explain this. The River Charles appears

to, and in fact does, run into the St. Lawrence just below Quebec. But the waters do not mix. The thicker,

browner stream of the lesser river still keeps the northeastern bank till it comes to the Island of Orleans,

which lies in the river five or six miles below Quebec. Here or hereabouts are the Falls of the Montmorency,

and then the great river is divided for twentyfive miles by the Isle of Orleans. It is said that the waters of the

Charles and the St. Lawrence do not mix till they meet each other at the foot of this island.

I do not know that I am particularly happy at describing a waterfall, and what little capacity I may have in

this way I would wish to keep for Niagara. One thing I can say very positively about Montmorency, and one

piece of advice I can give to those who visit the falls. The place from which to see them is not the horrible

little wooden temple which has been built immediately over them on that side which lies nearest to Quebec.

The stranger is put down at a gate through which a path leads to this temple, and at which a woman demands

from him twentyfive cents for the privilege of entrance. Let him by all means pay the twentyfive cents.

Why should he attempt to see the falls for nothing, seeing that this woman has a vested interest in the

showing of them? I declare that if I thought that I should hinder this woman from her perquisites by what I

write, I would leave it unwritten, and let my readers pursue their course to the templeto their manifest

injury. But they will pay the twentyfive cents. Then let them cross over the bridge, eschewing the temple,

and wander round on the open field till they get the view of the falls, and the view of Quebec also, from the

other side. It is worth the twentyfive cents and the hire of the carriage also. Immediately over the falls there

was a suspension bridge, of which the supporting, or rather nonsupporting, pillars are still to be seen. But

the bridge fell down, one day, into the river; andalas! alas!with the bridge fell down an old woman, and

a boy, and a carta cart and horseand all found a watery grave together in the spray. No attempt has been

made since that to renew the suspension bridge; but the present wooden bridge has been built higher up in

Strangers naturally visit Quebec in summer or autumn, seeing that a Canada winter is a season with which a

man cannot trifle; but I imagine that the midwinter is the best time for seeing the Falls of Montmorency.

The water in its fall is dashed into spray, and that spray becomes frozen, till a cone of ice is formed

immediately under the cataract, which gradually rises till the temporary glacier reaches nearly half way to the

level of the higher river. Up this men climband ladies also, I am toldand then descend, with pleasant

rapidity, on sledges of wood, sometimes not without an innocent tumble in the descent. As we were at

As I was too early for the ice cone under the Montmorency Falls, so also was I too late to visit the Saguenay

River, which runs into the St. Lawrence some hundred miles below Quebec. I presume that the scenery of the

Saguenay is the finest in Canada. During the summer steamers run down the St. Lawrence and up the

Saguenay, but I was too late for them. An offer was made to us through the kindness of Sir Edmund Head,

who was then the GovernorGeneral, of the use of a steamtug belonging to a gentleman who carries on a

large commercial enterprise at Chicoutimi, far up the Saguenay; but an acceptance of this offer would have

entailed some delay at Quebec, and, as we were anxious to get into the Northwestern States before the winter

I feel bound to say that a stranger, regarding Quebec merely as a town, finds very much of which he cannot

but complain. The footpaths through the streets are almost entirely of wood, as indeed seems to be general

throughout Canada. Wood is, of course, the cheapest material; and, though it may not be altogether good for

such a purpose, it would not create animadversion if it were kept in tolerable order. But in Quebec the paths

are intolerably bad. They are full of holes. The boards are rotten, and worn in some places to dirt. The nails

have gone, and the broken planks go up and down under the feet, and in the dark they are absolutely

dangerous. But if the paths are bad, the roadways are worse. The street through the lower town along the

quays is, I think, the most disgraceful thoroughfare I ever saw in any town. I believe the whole of it, or at any

rate a great portion, has been paved with wood; but the boards have been worked into mud, and the ground

under the boards has been worked into holes, till the street is more like the bottom of a filthy ditch than a

roadway through one of the most thickly populated parts of a city. Had Quebec in Wolfe's time been as it is

now, Wolfe would have stuck in the mud between the river and the rock before he reached the point which he

desired to climb. In the upper town the roads are not as bad as they are below, but still they are very bad. I

was told that this arose from disputes among the municipal corporations. Everything in Canada relating to

roads, and a very great deal affecting the internal government of the people, is done by these municipalities. It

is made a subject of great boast in Canada that the communal authorities do carry on so large a part of the

public business, and that they do it generally so well and at so cheap a rate. I have nothing to say against this,

and, as a whole, believe that the boast is true. I must protest, however, that the streets of the greater

citiesfor Montreal is nearly as bad as Quebecprove the rule by a very sad exception. The municipalities

of which I speak extend, I believe, to all Canadathe two provinces being divided into counties, and the

counties subdivided into townships, to which, as a matter of course, the municipalities are attached.

From Quebec to Montreal there are two modes of travel. There are the steamers up the St. Lawrence, which,

as all the world know, is, or at any rate hitherto has been, the highroad of the Canadas; and there is the

Grand Trunk Railway. Passengers choosing the latter go toward Portland as far as Richmond, and there join

the main line of the road, passing from Richmond on to Montreal. We learned while at Quebec that it

behooved us not to leave the colony till we had seen the lake and mountains of Memphremagog; and, as we

were clearly neglecting our duty with regard to the Saguenay, we felt bound to make such amends as lay in

our power by deviating from our way to the lake above named. In order to do this we were obliged to choose

the railway, and to go back beyond Richmond to the station at Sherbrooke. Sherbrooke is a large village on

the confines of Canada, and, as it is on the railway, will no doubt become a large town. It is very prettily

situated on the meeting of two rivers; it has three or four churches, and intends to thrive. It possesses two

newspapers, of the prosperity of which I should be inclined to feel less assured. The annual subscription to

such a newspaper, published twice a week, is ten shillings. A sale of a thousand copies is not considered bad.

Such a sale would produce 500 pounds a year; and this would, if entirely devoted to that purpose, give a

moderate income to a gentleman qualified to conduct a newspaper. But the paper and printing must cost

something, and the capital invested should receive its proper remuneration. And thensuch at least is the

general ideathe getting together of news and the framing of intelligence is a costly operation. I can only

hope that all this is paid for by the advertisements, for I must trust that the editors do not receive less than the

moderate sum above named. At Sherbrooke we are still in Lower Canada. Indeed, as regards distance, we are

when there nearly as far removed from Upper Canada as at Quebec. But the race of people here is very

different. The French population had made their way down into these townships before the English and

American war broke out, but had not done so in great numbers. The country was then very unapproachable,

being far to the south of the St. Lawrence, and far also fromany great line of internal communication toward

the Atlantic. But, nevertheless, many settlers made their way in here from the Statesmen who preferred to

live under British rule, and perhaps doubted the stability of the new order of things. They or their children

have remained here since; and, as the whole country has been opened up by the railway, many others have

flocked in. Thus a better class of people than the French hold possession of the larger farms, and are on the

whole doing well. I am told that many Americans are now coming here, driven over the borders from Maine,

New Hampshire, and Vermont by fears of the war and the weight of taxation. I do not think that fears of war

or the paying of taxes drive many individuals away from home. Men who would be so influenced have not

the amount of foresight which would induce them to avoid such evils; or, at any rate, such fears would act

slowly. Laborers, however, will go where work is certain, where work is well paid, and where the wages to

be earned will give plenty in return. It may be that work will become scarce in the States, as it has done with

those poor jewelers at Attleborough of whom we spoke, and that food will become dear. If this be so, laborers

From Sherbrooke we went with the mails on a pairhorse wagon to Magog. Crosscountry mails are not

interesting to the generality of readers, but I have a professional liking for them myself. I have spent the best

part of my life in looking after, and I hope in improving, such mails; and I always endeavor to do a stroke of

work when I come across them. I learned on this occasion that the conveyance of mails with a pair of horses,

in Canada, costs little more than half what is paid for the same work in England with one horse, and

something less than what is paid in Ireland, also for one horse. But in Canada the average pace is only five

miles an hour. In Ireland it is seven, and the time is accurately kept, which does not seem to be the case in

Canada. In England the pace is eight miles an hour. In Canada and in Ireland these conveyances carry

passengers; but in England they are prohibited from doing so. In Canada the vehicles are much better got up

than they are in England, and the horses too look better. Taking Ireland as a whole, they are more respectable

in appearance there than in England. From all which it appears that pace is the article that costs the highest

price, and that appearance does not go for much in the bill. In Canada the roads are very bad in comparison

with the English or Irish roads; but, to make up for this, the price of forage is very low.

I have said that the crossmail conveyances in Canada did not seem to be very closely bound as to time; but

they are regulated by clockwork in comparison with some of them in the United States. "Are you going this

morning?" I said to a maildriver in Vermont. "I thought you always started in the evening." "Wa'll, I guess I

do; but it rained some last night, so I jist stayed at home." I do not know that I ever felt more shocked in my

life, and I could hardly keep my tongue off the man. The mails, however, would have paid no respect to me in

We went with the mails from Sherbrooke to a village called Magog, at the outlet of the lake, and from thence

by a steamer up the lake, to a solitary hotel called the Mountain House, which is built at the foot of the

mountain, on the shore, and which is surrounded on every side by thick forest. There is no road within two

miles of the house. The lake therefore is the only highway, and that is frozen up for four months in the year.

When frozen, however, it is still a road, for it is passable for sledges. I have seldom been in a house that

seemed so remote from the world, and so little within reach of doctors, parsons, or butchers. Bakers in this

country are not required, as all persons make their own bread. But in spite of its position the hotel is well

kept, and on the whole we were more comfortable there than at any other inn in Lower Canada. The

Mountain house is but five miles from the borders of Vermont, in which State the head of the lake lies. The

steamer which brought us runs on to Newport, or rather from Newport to Magog and back again. And

The one thing to be done at the Mountain House is the ascent of the mountain called the Owl's head. The

world there offers nothing else of active enterprise to the traveler, unless fishing be considered an active

enterprise. I am not capable of fishing, therefore we resolved on going up the Owl's Head. To dine in the

middle of the day is absolutely imperative at these hotels, and thus we were driven to select either the

morning or the afternoon. Evening lights we declared were the best for all views, and therefore we decided on

the afternoon. It is but two miles; but then, as we were told more than once by those who had spoken to us on

the subject, those two miles are not like other miles. "I doubt if the lady can do it," one man said to me. I

asked if ladies did not sometimes go up. "Yes; young women do, at times," he said. After that my wife

resolved that she would see the top of the Owl's Head, or die in the attempt, and so we started. They never

think of sending a guide with one in these places, whereas in Europe a traveler is not allowed to go a step

without one. When I asked for one to show us the way up Mount Washington, I was told that there were no

idle boys about that place. The path was indicated to us, and off we started with high hopes.

I have been up many mountains, and have climbed some that were perhaps somewhat dangerous in their

ascent. In climbing the Owl's Head there is no danger. One is closed in by thick trees the whole way. But I

doubt if I ever went up a steeper ascent. It was very hard work, but we were not beaten. We reached the top,

and there sitting down, thoroughly enjoyed our victory. It was then half past five o'clock, and the sun was

not yet absolutely sinking. It did not seem to give us any warning that we should especially require its aid,

and, as the prospect below us was very lovely, we remained there for a quarter of an hour. The ascent of the

Owl's Head is certainly a thing to do, and I still think, in spite of our following misfortune, that it is a thing to

do late in the afternoon. The view down upon the lakes and the forests around, and on the wooded hills

below, is wonderfully lovely. I never was on a mountain which gave me a more perfect command of all the

country round. But as we arose to descend we saw a little cloud coming toward us from over Newport.

The little cloud came on with speed, and we had hardly freed ourselves from the rocks of the summit before

we were surrounded by rain. As the rain became thicker, we were surrounded by darkness also, or, if not by

darkness, by so dim a light that it became a task to find our path. I still thought that the daylight had not gone,

and that as we descended, and so escaped from the cloud, we should find light enough to guide us. But it was

not so. The rain soon became a matter of indifference, and so also did the mud and briers beneath our feet.

Even the steepness of the way was almost forgotten as we endeavored to thread our path through the forest

before it should become impossible to discern the track. A dog had followed us up, and though the beast

would not stay with us so as to be our guide, he returned ever and anon, and made us aware of his presence

by dashing by us. I may confess now that I became much frightened. We were wet through, and a night out in

the forest would have been unpleasant to us. At last I did utterly lose the track, it had become quite dark, so

dark that we could hardly see each other. We had succeeded in getting down the steepest and worst part of the

mountain, but we were still among dense forest trees, and up to our knees in mud. But the people at the

Mountain house were Christians, and men with lanterns were sent hallooing after us through the dark night.

When we were thus found we were not many yards from the path, but unfortunately on the wrong side of a

stream. Through that we waded, and then made our way in safety to the inn. In spite of which misadventure I

On the following day we crossed the lake to Georgeville, and drove around another lake called the

Massawhippi back to Sherbrooke. This was all very well, for it showed us a part of the country which is

comparatively well tilled, and has been long settled; but the Massawhippi itself is not worth a visit. The route

by which we returned occupies a longer time than the other, and is more costly, as it must be made in a hired

vehicle. The people here are quiet, orderly, and I should say a little slow. It is manifest that a strong feeling

against the Northern States has lately sprung up. This is much to be deprecated, but I cannot but say that it is

natural. It is not that the Canadians have any special secession feelings, or that they have entered with

peculiar warmth into the questions of American politics; but they have been vexed and acerbated by the

braggadocio of the Northern States. They constantly hear that they are to be invaded, and translated into

citizens of the Union; that British rule is to be swept off the continent, and that the starspangled banner is to

be waved over them in pity. The starspangled banner is in fact a fine flag, and has waved to some purpose;

but those who live near it, and not under it, fancy that they hear too much of it. At the present moment the

loyalty of both the Canadas to Great Britain is beyond all question. From all that I can hear, I doubt whether

this feeling in the provinces was ever so strong, and under such circumstances American abuse of England

and American braggadocio is more than usually distasteful. All this abuse and all this braggadocio come to

Canada from the Northern States, and therefore the Southern cause is at the present moment the more popular

I have said that the Canadians hereabouts are somewhat slow. As we were driving back to Sherbrooke it

became necessary that we should rest for an hour or so in the middle of the day, and for this purpose we

stopped at a village inn. It was a large house, in which there appeared to be three public sittingrooms of

ample size, one of which was occupied as the bar. In this there were congregated some six or seven men,

seated in armchairs round a stove, and among these I placed myself. No one spoke a word either to me or to

any one else. No one smoked, and no one read, nor did they even whittle sticks. I asked a question, first of

one and then of another, and was answered with monosyllables. So I gave up any hope in that direction, and

sat staring at the big stove in the middle of the room, as the others did. Presently another stranger entered,

having arrived in a wagon, as I had done. He entered the room and sat down, addressing no one, and

addressed by no one. After awhile, however, he spoke. "Will there be any chance of dinner here?" he said. "I

guess there'll be dinner byandby," answered the landlord, and then there was silence for another ten

minutes, during which the stranger stared at the stove. "Is that dinner any way ready?" he asked again. "I

guess it is," said the landlord. And then the stranger went out to see after his dinner himself. When we started,

at the end of an hour, nobody said anything to us. The driver "hitched" on the horses, as they call it, and we

started on our way, having been charged nothing for our accommodation. That some profit arose from the

On the following day we reached Montreal, which, as I have said before, is the commercial capital of the two

Provinces. This question of the capitals is at the present moment a subject of great interest in Canada; but, as

I shall be driven to say something on the matter when I report myself as being at Ottawa, I will refrain now.

There are two special public affairs at the present moment to interest a traveler in Canada. The first I have

named, and the second is the Grand Trunk Railway. I have already stated what is the course of this line. It

runs from the Western State of Michigan to Portland, on the Atlantic, in the State of Maine, sweeping the

whole length of Canada in its route. It was originally made by three companies. The Atlantic and St.

Lawrence constructed it from Portland to Island Pond, on the borders of the States. The St. Lawrence and

Atlantic took it from the southeastern side of the river at Montreal to the same point, viz., Island Pond. And

the Grand Trunk Company have made it from Detroit to Montreal, crossing the river there with a stupendous

tubular bridge, and have also made the branch connecting the main line with Quebec and Riviere du Loup.

This latter company is now incorporated with the St. Lawrence and Atlantic, but has only leased the portion

of the line running through the States. This they have done, guaranteeing the shareholders an interest of six

per cent. There never was a grander enterprise set on foot. I will not say there never was one more

unfortunate, for is there not the Great Eastern, which, by the weight and constancy of its failures, demands for

itself a proud preeminence of misfortune? But surely the Grand Trunk comes next to it. I presume it to be

quite out of the question that the shareholders should get any interest whatever on their shares for years. The

company, when I was at Montreal, had not paid the interest due to the Atlantic and St. Lawrence Company

for the last year, and there was a doubt whether the lease would not be broken. No party that had advanced

money to the undertaking was able to recover what had been advanced. I believe that one firm in London had

lent nearly a million to the company, and is now willing to accept half the sum so lent in quittance of the

whole debt. In 1860 the line could not carry the freight that offered, not having or being able to obtain the

necessary rolling stock; and on all sides I heard men discussing whether the line would be kept open for

traffic. The government of Canada advanced to the company three millions of money, with an understanding

that neither interest nor principal should be demanded till all other debts were paid and all shareholders in

receipt of six per cent. interest. But the three millions were clogged with conditions which, though they have

been of service to the country, have been so expensive to the company that it is hardly more solvent with it

than it would have been without it. As it is, the whole property seems to be involved in ruin; and yet the line

is one of the grandest commercial conceptions that was ever carried out on the face of the globe, and in the

process of a few years will do more to make bread cheap in England than any other single enterprise that

I do not know that blame is to be attached to any one. I at least attach no such blame. Probably it might be

easy now to show that the road might have been made with sufficient accommodation for ordinary purposes

without some of the more costly details. The great tubular bridge, on which was expended 1,300,000 pounds,

might, I should think, have been dispensed with. The Detroit end of the line might have been left for later

time. As it stands now, however, it is a wonderful operation carried to a successful issue as far as the public

are concerned; and one can on]y grieve that it should be so absolute a failure to those who have placed their

money in it. There are schemes which seem to be too big for men to work out with any ordinary regard to

profit and loss. The Great Eastern is one, and this is another. The national advantage arising from such

enterprises is immense; but the wonder is that men should be found willing to embark their money where the

While I was in Canada some gentlemen were there from the Lower ProvincesNova Scotia, that is, and

New Brunswickagitating the subject of another great line of railway, from Quebec to Halifax. The project

is one in favor of which very much may be said. In a national point of view an Englishman or a Canadian

cannot but regret that there should be no winter mode of exit from, or entrance to, Canada, except through the

United States. The St. Lawrence is blocked up for four or five months in winter, and the steamers which run

to Quebec in the summer run to Portland during the season of ice. There is at present no mode of public

conveyance between the Canadas and the Lower Provinces; and an immense district of country on the

borders of Lower Canada, through New Brunswick, and into Nova Scotia, is now absolutely closed against

civilization, which by such a railway would be opened up to the light of day. We all know how much the

want of such a road was felt when our troops were being forwarded to Canada during the last winter. It was

necessary they should reach their destination without delay; and as the river was closed, and the passing of

troops through the States was of course out of the question, that long overland journey across Nova Scotia

and New Brunswick became a necessity. It would certainly be a very great thing for British interests if a

direct line could be made from such a port as Halifax, a port which is open throughout the whole year, up into

the Canadas. If these colonies belonged to France or to any other despotic government, the thing would be

Such a line would, in fact, be a continuance of the Grand Trunk; and who that looks at the present state of the

finances of the Grand Trunk can think it to be on the cards that private enterprise should come forward with

more moneywith more millions? The idea is that England will advance the money, and that the English

House of Commons will guarantee the interest, with some counterguarantee from the colonies that this

interest shall be duly paid. But it would seem that, if such colonial guarantee is to go for anything, the

colonies might raise the money in the money market without the intervention of the British House of

Montreal is an exceedingly good commercial town, and business there is brisk. It has now 85,000 inhabitants.

Having said that of it, I do not know what more there is left to say. Yes; one word there is to say of Sir

William Logan, the creator of the Geological Museum there, and the head of all matters geological

throughout the province. While he was explaining to me with admirable perspicuity the result of

investigations into which he had poured his whole heart, I stood by, understanding almost nothing, but

envying everything. That I understood almost nothing, I know he perceived. That, ever and anon, with all his

graciousness, became apparent. But I wonder whether he perceived also that I did envy everything. I have

listened to geologists by the hour beforehave had to listen to them, desirous simply of escape. I have

listened, and understood absolutely nothing, and have only wished myself away. But I could have listened to

Sir William Logan for the whole day, if time allowed. I found, even in that hour, that some ideas found their

way through to me, and I began to fancy that even I could become a geologist at Montreal.

Over and beyond Sir William Logan, there is at Montreal for strangers the drive round the mountain, not very

exciting, and there is the tubular bridge over the St. Lawrence. This, it must be understood, is not made in one

tube, as is that over the Menai Straits, but is divided into, I think, thirteen tubes. To the eye there appear to be

twentyfive tubes; but each of the six side tubes is supported by a pier in the middle. A great part of the

Ottawa is in Upper Canada, but crossing the suspension bridge from Ottawa into Hull, the traveler is in

Lower Canada. It is therefore exactly in the confines, and has been chosen as the site of the new government

capital very much for this reason. Other reasons have no doubt had a share in the decision. At the time when

the choice was made Ottawa was not large enough to create the jealousy of the more populous towns. Though

not on the main line of railway, it was connected with it by a branch railway, and it is also connected with the

St. Lawrence by water communication. And then it stands nobly on a magnificent river, with high,

overhanging rock, and a natural grandeur of position which has perhaps gone far in recommending it to those

whose voice in the matter has been potential. Having the world of Canada from whence to choose the site of a

new town, the choosers have certainly chosen well. It is another question whether or no a new town should

Perhaps it may be well to explain the circumstances under which it was thought expedient thus to establish a

new Canadian capital. In 1841, when Lord Sydenham was GovernorGeneral of the provinces, the two

Canadas, separate till then, were united under one government. At that time the people of Lower or French

Canada, and the people of Upper or English Canada, differed much more in their habits and language than

they do now. I do not know that the English have become in any way Gallicized, but the French have been

very materially Anglicized. But while this has been in progress national jealousy has been at work, and even

yet that national jealousy is not at an end. While the two provinces were divided there were, of course, two

capitals, and two seats of government. These were at Quebec for Lower Canada, and at Toronto for Upper

Canada, both which towns are centrically situated as regards the respective provinces. When the union was

effected, it was deemed expedient that there should be but one capital; and the small town of Kingstown was

selected, which is situated on the lower end of Lake Ontario, in the upper province. But Kingstown was found

to be inconvenient, lacking space and accommodation for those who had to follow the government, and the

Governor removed it and himself to Montreal. Montreal is in the lower province, but is very central to both

the provinces; and it is moreover the chief town in Canada. This would have done very well but for an

It will be remembered by most readers that in 1837 took place the MackenziePapineau rebellion, of which

those who were then old enough to be politicians heard so much in England. I am not going back to recount

the history of the period, otherwise than to say that the English Canadians at that time, in withstanding and

combating the rebels, did considerable injury to the property of certain French Canadians, and that, when the

rebellion had blown over and those in fault had been pardoned, a question arose whether or no the

government should make good the losses of those French Canadians who had been injured. The English

Canadians protested that it would be monstrous that they should be taxed to repair damages suffered by

rebels, and made necessary in the suppression of rebellion. The French Canadians declared that the rebellion

had been only a just assertion of their rights; that if there had been crime on the part of those who took up

arms, that crime had been condoned, and that the damages had not fallen exclusively or even chiefly on those

who had done so. I will give no opinion on the merits of the question, but simply say that blood ran very hot

when it was discussed. At last the Houses of the Provincial Parliament, then assembled at Montreal, decreed

that the losses should be made good by the public treasury; and the English mob in Montreal, when this

decree became known, was roused to great wrath by a decision which seemed to be condemnatory of English

loyalty. It pelted Lord Elgin, the GovernorGeneral, with rotten eggs, and burned down the Parliament house.

Hence there arose, not unnaturally, a strong feeling of anger on the part of the local government against

Montreal; and moreover there was no longer a house in which the Parliament could be held in that town. For

these conjoint reasons it was decided to move the seat of government again, and it was resolved that the

Governor and the Parliament should sit alternately at Toronto in Upper Canada, and at Quebec in Lower

Canada, remaining four years at each place. They went at first to Toronto for two years only, having agreed

that they should be there on this occasion only for the remainder of the term of the then Parliament. After that

they were at Quebec for four years; then at Toronto for four; and now again are at Quebec. But this

arrangement has been found very inconvenient. In the first place there is a great national expenditure incurred

in moving old records and in keeping double records, in moving the library, and, as I have been informed,

even the pictures. The government clerks also are called on to move as the government moves; and though an

allowance is made to them from the national purse to cover their loss, the arrangement has nevertheless been

felt by them to be a grievance, as may be well understood. The accommodation also for the ministers of the

government and for members of the two Houses has been insufficient. Hotels, lodgings, and furnished houses

could not be provided to the extent required, seeing that they would be left nearly empty for every alternate

space of four years. Indeed, it needs but little argument to prove that the plan adopted must have been a

thoroughly uncomfortable plan, and the wonder is that it should have been adopted. Lower Canada had

undertaken to make all her leading citizens wretched, providing Upper Canada would treat hers with equal

severity. This has now gone on for some twelve years, and as the system was found to be an unendurable

nuisance, it has been at last admitted that some steps must be taken toward selecting one capital for the

I should here, in justice to the Canadians, state a remark made to me on this matter by one of the present

leading politicians of the colony. I cannot think that the migratory scheme was good but he defended it,

asserting that it had done very much to amalgamate the people of the two provinces; that it had brought

Lower Canadians into Upper Canada, and Upper Canadians into Lower Canada, teaching English to those

who spoke only French before, and making each pleasantly acquainted with the other. I have no doubt that

somethingperhaps muchhas been done in this way; but valuable as the result may have been, I cannot

think it worth the cost of the means employed. The best answer to the above argument consists in the

undoubted fact that a migratory government would never have been established for such a reason. It was so

established because Montreal, the central town, had given offense, and because the jealousy of the provinces

against each other would not admit of the government being placed entirely at Quebec, or entirely at Toronto.

But it was necessary that some step should be taken; and as it was found to be unlikely that any resolution

should be reached by the joint provinces themselves, it was loyally and wisely determined to refer the matter

to the Queen. That Her Majesty has constitutionally the power to call the Parliament of Canada at any town

of Canada which she may select, admits, I conceive, of no doubt. It is, I imagine, within her prerogative to

call the Parliament of England where she may please within that realm, though her lieges would be somewhat

startled if it were called otherwhere than in London. It was therefore well done to ask Her Majesty to act as

arbiter in the matter. But there are not wanting those in Canada who say that in referring the matter to the

Queen it was in truth referring it to those by whom very many of the Canadians were least willing to be

guided in the matter; to the GovernorGeneral namely, and the Colonial Secretary. Many indeed in Canada

now declare that the decision simply placed the matter in the hands of the GovernorGeneral.

Be that as it may, I do not think that any unbiased traveler will doubt that the best possible selection has been

made, presuming always, as we may presume in the discussion, that Montreal could not be selected. I take for

granted that the rejection of Montreal was regarded as a sine qua non in the decision. To me it appears

grievous that this should have been so. It is a great thing for any country to have a large, leading,

worldknown city, and I think that the government should combine with the commerce of the country in

carrying out this object. But commerce can do a great deal more for government than government can do for

commerce. Government has selected Ottawa as the capital of Canada; but commerce has already made

Montreal the capital, and Montreal will be the chief city of Canada, let government do what it may to foster

the other town. The idea of spiting a town because there has been a row in it seems to me to be preposterous.

The row was not the work of those who have made Montreal rich and respectable. Montreal is more centrical

than Ottawanay, it is as nearly centrical as any town can be. It is easier to get to Montreal from Toronto

than to Ottawa; and if from Toronto, then from all that distant portion of Upper Canada back of Toronto. To

all Lower Canada Montreal is, as a matter of course, much easier of access than Ottawa. But having said so

much in favor of Montreal, I will again admit that, putting aside Montreal, the best possible selection has

When Ottawa was named, no time was lost in setting to work to prepare for the new migration. In 1859 the

Parliament was removed to Quebec, with the understanding that it should remain there till the new buildings

should be completed. These buildings were absolutely commenced in April, 1860, and it was, and I believe

still is, expected that they will be completed in 1863. I am now writing in the winter of 1861; and, as is

necessary in Canadian winters, the works are suspended. But unfortunately they were suspended in the early

part of Octoberon the first of October whereas they might have been continued, as far as the season is

concerned, up to the end of November. We reached Ottawa on the third of October, and more than a thousand

men had then been just dismissed. All the money in hand had been expended, and the governmentso it was

saidcould give no more money till Parliament should meet again. This was most unfortunate. In the first

place the suspension was against the contract as made with the contractors for the building; in the next place

there was the delay; and then, worst of all, the question again became agitated whether the colonial legislature

were really in earnest with reference to Ottawa. Many men of mark in the colony were still anxiousI

believe are still anxiousto put an end to the Ottawa scheme, and think that there still exists for them a

chance of success. And very many men who are not of mark are thus united, and a feeling of doubt on the

subject has been created. Two hundred and twentyfive thousand pounds have already been spent on these

buildings, and I have no doubt myself that they will be duly completed and duly used.

We went up to the new town by boat, taking the course of the River Ottawa. We passed St. Ann's, but no one

at St. Ann's seemed to know anything of the brothers who were to rest there on their weary oars. At

Maxwellstown I could hear nothing of Annie Laurie or of her trystingplace on the braes; and the turnpike

man at Tara could tell me nothing of the site of the hall, and had never even heard of the harp. When I go

down South, I shall expect to find that the negro melodies have not yet reached "Old Virginie." This boat

conveyance from Montreal to Ottawa is not all that could be wished in convenience, for it is allied too closely

with railway traveling. Those who use it leave Montreal by a railway; after nine miles, they are changed into

a steamboat. Then they encounter another railway, and at last reach Ottawa in a second steamboat. But the

river is seen, and a better idea of the country is obtained than can be had solely from the railway cars. The

scenery is by no means grand, nor is it strikingly picturesque, but it is in its way interesting. For a long

portion of the river the old primeval forests come down close to the water's edge, and in the fall of the year

the brilliant coloring is very lovely. It should not be imagined, as I think it often is imagined, that these

forests are made up of splendid trees, or that splendid trees are even common. When timber grows on

undrained ground, and when it is uncared for, it does not seem to approach nearer to its perfection than wheat

and grass do under similar circumstances. Seen from a little distance, the color and effect is good; but the

trees themselves have shallow roots, and grow up tall, narrow, and shapeless. It necessarily is so with all

timber that is not thinned in its growth. When fine forest trees are found, and are left standing alone by any

cultivator who may have taste enough to wish for such adornment, they almost invariably die. They are

robbed of the sickly shelter by which they have been surrounded; the hot sun strikes the uncovered fibers of

As one ascends the river, which by its breadth forms itself into lakes, one is shown Indian villages clustering

down upon the bank. Some years ago these Indians were rich, for the price of furs, in which they dealt, was

high; but furs have become cheaper, and the beavers, with which they used to trade, are almost valueless.

That a change in the fashion of hats should have assisted to polish these poor fellows off the face of creation,

must, one may suppose, be very unintelligible to them; but nevertheless it is probably a subject of deep

speculation. If the reading world were to take to sermons again and eschew their novels, Messrs. Thackeray,

Dickens, and some others would look about them and inquire into the causes of such a change with

considerable acuteness. They might not, perhaps, hit the truth, and these Indians are much in that

predicament. It is said that very few pureblooded Indians are now to be found in their villages, but I doubt

whether this is not erroneous. The children of the Indians are now fed upon baked bread and on cooked meat,

and are brought up in houses. They are nursed somewhat as the children of the white men are nursed; and

these practices no doubt have done much toward altering their appearance. The negroes who have been bred

in the States, and whose fathers have been so bred before them, differ both in color and form from their

I said in the last chapter that the City of Ottawa was still to be built; but I must explain, lest I should draw

down on my head the wrath of the Ottawaites, that the place already contains a population of 15,000

inhabitants. As, however, it is being prepared for four times that numberfor eight times that number, let us

hopeand as it straggles over a vast extent of ground, it gives one the idea of a city in an active course of

preparation. In England we know nothing about unbuilt cities. With us four or five blocks of streets together

never assume that ugly, unfledged appearance which belongs to the halffinished carcass of a house, as they

do so often on the other side of the Atlantic. Ottawa is preparing for itself broad streets and grand

thoroughfares. The buildings already extend over a length considerably exceeding two miles; and half a

dozen hotels have been opened, which, if I were writing a guidebook in a complimentary tone, it would be

my duty to describe as first rate. But the half dozen firstrate hotels, though open, as yet enjoy but a moderate

amount of custom. All this justifies me, I think, in saying that the city has as yet to get itself built. The

manner in which this is being done justifies me also in saying that the Ottawaites are going about their task

To me I confess that the nature of the situation has great charms, regarding it as the site for a town. It is not

on a plain; and from the form of the rock overhanging the river, and of the hill that falls from thence down to

the water, it has been found impracticable to lay out the place in rightangled parallelograms. A rightangled

parallelogramical city, such as are Philadelphia and the new portion of New York, is from its very nature

odious to me. I know that much may be said in its favorthat drainage and gas pipes come easier to such a

shape, and that ground can be better economized. Nevertheless, I prefer a street that is forced to twist itself

about. I enjoy the narrowness of Temple Bar and the misshapen curvature of Picket Street. The disreputable

dinginess of Hollowell Street is dear to me, and I love to thread my way up the Olympic into Covent Garden.

Fifth Avenue in New York is as grand as paint and glass can make it; but I would not live in a palace in Fifth

The town of Ottawa lies between two waterfalls. The upper one, or Rideau Fall, is formed by the confluence

of a small river with the larger one; and the lower falldesignated as lower because it is at the foot of the

hill, though it is higher up the Ottawa River is called the Chaudiere, from its resemblance to a boiling

kettle. This is on the Ottawa River itself. The Rideau Fall is divided into two branches, thus forming an island

in the middle, as is the case at Niagara. It is pretty enough, and worth visiting even were it farther from the

town than it is; but by those who have hunted out many cataracts in their travels it will not be considered very

remarkable. The Chaudiere Fall I did think very remarkable. It is of trifling depth, being formed by fractures

in the rocky bed of the river; but the waters have so cut the rock as to create beautiful forms in the rush which

they make in their descent. Strangers are told to look at these falls from the suspension bridge; and it is well

that they should do so. But, in so looking at them, they obtain but a very small part of their effect. On the

Ottawa side of the bridge is a brewery, which brewery is surrounded by a huge timberyard. This timber yard

I found to be very muddy, and the passing and repassing through it is a work of trouble; but nevertheless let

the traveler by all means make his way through the mud, and scramble over the timber, and cross the plank

bridges which traverse the streams of the sawmills, and thus take himself to the outer edge of the

woodwork over the water. If he will then seat himself, about the hour of sunset, he will see the Chaudiere

But the glory of Ottawa will beand, indeed, already isthe set of public buildings which is now being

erected on the rock which guards, as it were, the town from the river. How much of the excellence of these

buildings may be due to the taste of Sir Edmund Head, the late governor, I do not know. That he has greatly

interested himself in the subject, is well known; and, as the style of the different buildings is so much alike as

to make one whole, though the designs of different architects were selected and these different architects

employed, I imagine that considerable alterations must have been made in the original drawings. There are

three buildings, forming three sides of a quadrangle; but they are not joined, the vacant spaces at the corner

being of considerable extent. The fourth side of the quadrangle opens upon one of the principal streets of the

town. The center building is intended for the Houses of Parliament, and the two side buildings for the

government offices. Of the first Messrs. Fuller and Jones are the architects, and of the latter Messrs. Stent and

Laver. I did not have the pleasure of meeting any of these gentlemen; but I take upon myself to say that, as

regards purity of art and manliness of conception, their joint work is entitled to the very highest praise. How

far the buildings may be well arranged for the required purposeshow far they maybe economical in

construction or specially adapted to the severe climate of the countryI cannot say; but I have no hesitation

in risking my reputation for judgment in giving my warmest commendation to them as regards beauty of

I shall not attempt to describe them, for I should interest no one in doing so, and should certainly fail in my

attempt to make any reader understand me. I know no modern Gothic purer of its kind or less sullied with

fictitious ornamentation. Our own Houses of Parliament are very fine, but it is, I believe, generally felt that

the ornamentation is too minute; and, moreover, it may be questioned whether perpendicular Gothic is

capable of the highest nobility which architecture can achieve. I do not pretend to say that these Canadian

public buildings will reach that highest nobility. They must be finished before any final judgment can be

pronounced; but I do feel very certain that that final judgment will be greatly in their favor. The total frontage

of the quadrangle, including the side buildings, is 1200 feet; that of the center buildings is 475. As I have said

before, 225,000 pounds have already been expended; and it is estimated that the total cost, including the

arrangement and decoration of the ground behind the building and in the quadrangle, will be half a million.

The buildings front upon what will, I suppose, be the principal street of Ottawa, and they stand upon a rock

looking immediately down upon the river. In this way they are blessed with a site peculiarly happy. Indeed, I

cannot at this moment remember any so much so. The Castle of Edinburgh stands very well; but then, like

many other castles, it stands on a summit by itself, and can only be approached by a steep ascent. These

buildings at Ottawa, though they look down from a grand eminence immediately on the river, are approached

from the town without any ascent. The rock, though it falls almost precipitously down to the water is covered

with trees and shrubs; and then the river that runs beneath is rapid, bright, and picturesque in the irregularity

of all its lines. The view from the back of the library, up to the Chaudiere Falls and to the sawmills by which

they are surrounded, is very lovely. So that I will say again that I know no site for such a set of buildings so

happy as regards both beauty and grandeur. It is intended that the library, of which the walls were only ten

feet above the ground when I was there, shall be an octagonal building, in shape and outward character like

the chapter house of a cathedral. This structure will, I presume, be surrounded by gravel walks and green

sward. Of the library there is a large model showing all the details of the architecture; and if that model be

ultimately followed, this building alone will be worthy of a visit from English tourists. To me it was very

wonderful to find such an edifice in the course of erection on the banks of a wild river almost at the back of

Canada. But if ever I visit Canada again, it will be to see those buildings when completed.

And now, like all friendly critics, having bestowed my modicum of praise, I must proceed to find fault. I

cannot bring myself to administer my sugarplum without adding to it some bitter morsel by way of antidote.

The building to the left of the quadrangle as it is entered is deficient in length, and on that account appears

mean to the eye. The two side buildings are brought up close to the street, so that each has a frontage

immediately on the street. Such being the case, they should be of equal length, or nearly so. Had the center of

one fronted the center of the other, a difference of length might have been allowed; but in this case the side

front of the smaller one would not have reached the street. As it is, the space between the main building and

the smaller wing is disproportionably large, and the very distance at which it stands will, I fear, give to it that

appearance of meanness of which I have spoken. The clerk of the works, who explained to me with much

courtesy the plan of the buildings, stated that the design of this wing was capable of elongation, and had been

expressly prepared with that object. If this be so, I trust that the defect will be remedied.

The great trade of Canada is lumbering; and lumbering consists in cutting down pinetrees up in the far

distant forests, in hewing or sawing them into shape for market, and getting them down the rivers to Quebec,

from whence they are exported to Europe, and chiefly to England. Timber in Canada is called lumber; those

engaged in the trade are called lumberers, and the business itself is called lumbering. After a lapse of time it

must no doubt become monotonous to those engaged in it, and the name is not engaging; but there is much

about it that is very picturesque. A sawmill worked by water power is almost always a pretty object; and

stacks of newcut timber are pleasant to the smell, and group themselves not amiss on the water's edge. If I

had the time, and were a year or two younger, I should love well to go up lumbering into the woods. The men

for this purpose are hired in the fall of the year, and are sent up hundreds of miles away to the pine forests in

strong gangs. Everything is there found for them. They make log huts for their shelter, and food of the best

and the strongest is taken up for their diet. But no strong drink of any kind is allowed, nor is any within reach

of the men. There are no publics, no shebeen houses, no grogshops. Sobriety is an enforced virtue; and so

much is this considered by the masters, and understood by the men, that very little contraband work is done

in the way of taking up spirits to these settlements. It may be said that the work up in the forests is done with

the assistance of no stronger drink than tea; and it is very hard work. There cannot be much work that is

harder; and it is done amid the snows and forests of a Canadian winter. A convict in Bermuda cannot get

through his daily eight hours of light labor without an allowance of rum; but a Canadian lumberer can

manage to do his daily task on tea without milk. These men, however, are by no means teetotalers. When they

come back to the towns they break out, and reward themselves for their longenforced moderation. The

wages I found to be very various, running from thirteen or fourteen dollars a month to twentyeight or thirty,

according to the nature of the work. The men who cut down the trees receive more than those who hew them

when down, and these again more than the under class who make the roads and clear the ground. These

money wages, however, are in addition to their diet. The operation requiring the most skill is that of marking

the trees for the axe. The largest only are worth cutting, and form and soundness must also be considered.

But if I were about to visit a party of lumberers in the forest, I should not be disposed to pass a whole winter

with them. Even of a very good thing one may have too much, I would go up in the spring, when the rafts are

being formed in the small tributary streams, and I would come down upon one of them, shooting the rapids of

the rivers as soon as the first freshets had left the way open. A freshet in the rivers is the rush of waters

occasioned by melting snow and ice. The first freshets take down the winter waters of the nearer lakes and

rivers. Then the streams become for a time navigable, and the rafts go down. After that comes the second

freshet, occasioned by the melting of faroff snow and ice up in the great northern lakes, which are little

known. These rafts are of immense construction, such as those which we have seen on the Rhone and Rhine,

and often contain timber to the value of two, three, and four thousand pounds. At the rapids the large rafts

are, as it were, unyoked, and divided into small portions, which go down separately. The excitement and

motion of such transit must, I should say, be very joyous. I was told that the Prince of Wales desired to go

down a rapid on a raft, but that the men in charge would not undertake to say that there was no possible

danger; whereupon those who accompanied the prince requested his Royal Highness to forbear. I fear that, in

these careful days, crowned heads and their heirs must often find themselves in the position of Sancho at the

banquet. The sailor prince, who came after his brother, was allowed to go down a rapid, and got, as I was

Ottawa is a great place for these timber rafts. Indeed, it may, I think, be called the headquarters of timber for

the world. Nearly all the best pinewood comes down the Ottawa and its tributaries. The other rivers by

which timber is brought down to the St. Lawrence are chiefly the St. Maurice, the Madawaska, and the

Saguenay; but the Ottawa and its tributaries water 75,000 square miles, whereas the other three rivers, with

their tributaries, water only 53,000. The timber from the Ottawa and St. Maurice finds its way down the St.

Lawrence to Quebec, where, however, it loses the whole of its picturesque character. The Saguenay and the

From Ottawa we went by rail to Prescott, which is surely one of the most wretched little places to be found in

any country. Immediately opposite to it, on the other side of the St. Lawrence, is the thriving town of

Ogdensburg. But Ogdensburg is in the United States. Had we been able to learn at Ottawa any facts as to the

hours of the river steamers and railways, we might have saved time and have avoided Prescott; but this was

out of the question. Had I asked the exact hour at which I might reach Calcutta by the quickest route, an

accurate reply would not have been more out of the question. I was much struck, at Prescottand, indeed, all

through Canada, though more in the upper than in the lower provinceby the sturdy roughness, some would

call it insolence, of those of the lower classes of the people with whom I was brought into contact. If the

words "lower classes" give offense to any reader, I beg to apologizeto apologize, and to assert that I am

one of the last of men to apply such a term in a sense of reproach to those who earn their bread by the labor of

their hands. But it is hard to find terms which will be understood; and that term, whether it give offense or no,

will be understood. Of course such a complaint as that I now make is very common as made against the

States. (Men in the States, with horned hands and fustian coats, are very often most unnecessarily insolent in

asserting their independence. What I now mean to say is that precisely the same fault is to be found in

Canada. I know well what the men mean when they offend in this manner. And when I think on the subject

with deliberation at my own desk, I can not only excuse, but almost approve them. But when one personally

encounters this corduroy braggadocio; when the man to whose services one is entitled answers one with

determined insolence; when one is bidden to follow "that young lady," meaning the chambermaid, or desired,

with a toss of the head, to wait for the "gentleman who is coming," meaning the boots, the heart is sickened,

and the English traveler pines for the civilityfor the servility, if my American friends choose to call it

soof a wellordered servant. But the whole scene is easily construed, and turned into English. A man is

asked by a stranger some question about his employment, and he replies in a tone which seems to imply

anger, insolence, and a dishonest intention to evade the service for which he is paid. Or, if there be no

question of service or payment, the man's manner will be the same, and the stranger feels that he is slapped in

the face and insulted. The translation of it is this: The man questioned, who is aware that as regards coat, hat,

boots, and outward cleanliness he is below him by whom he is questioned, unconsciously feels himself called

upon to assert his political equality. It is his shibboleth that he is politically equal to the best, that he is

independent, and that his labor, though it earn him but a dollar a day by porterage, places him as a citizen on

an equal rank with the most wealthy fellowman that may employ or accost him. But, being so inferior in

that coat, hat, and boots matter, he is forced to assert his equality by some effort. As he improves in externals,

he will diminish the roughness of his claim. As long as the man makes his claim with any roughness, so long

does he acknowledge within himself some feeling of external inferiority. When that has gonewhen the

American has polished himself up by education and general wellbeing to a feeling of external equality with

gentlemen, he shows, I think, no more of that outward braggadocio of independence than a Frenchman.

But the blow at the moment of the stroke is very galling. I confess that I have occasionally all but broken

down beneath it. But when it is thought of afterward it admits of full excuse. No effort that a man can make is

better than a true effort at independence. But this insolence is a false effort, it will be said. It should rather be

called a false accompaniment to a life long true effort. The man probably is not dishonest, does not desire to

shirk any service which is due from him, is not even inclined to insolence. Accept his first declaration of

equality for that which it is intended to represent, and the man afterward will be found obliging and

communicative. If occasion offer he will sit down in the room with you, and will talk with you on any subject

that he may choose; but having once ascertained that you show no resentment for this assertion of equality, he

will do pretty nearly all that is asked. He will at any rate do as much in that way as an Englishman. I say thus

much on this subject now especially, because I was quite as much struck by the feeling in Canada as I was

From Prescott we went on by the Grand Trunk Railway to Toronto, and stayed there for a few days. Toronto

is the capital of the province of Upper Canada, and I presume will in some degree remain so, in spite of

Ottawa and its pretensions. That is, the law courts will still be held there. I do not know that it will enjoy any

other supremacy unless it be that of trade and population. Some few years ago Toronto was advancing with

rapid strides, and was bidding fair to rival Quebec, or even perhaps Montreal. Hamilton also, another town of

Upper Canada, was going ahead in the true American style; but then reverses came in trade, and the towns

were checked for awhile. Toronto, with a neighboring suburb which is a part of it, as Southwark is of

London, contains now over 50,000 inhabitants. The streets are all parallelogramical, and there is not a single

curvature to rest the eye. It is built down close upon Lake Ontario; and as it is also on the Grand Trunk

The two sights of Toronto are the Osgoode Hall and the University. The Osgoode Hall is to Upper Canada

what the Four Courts are to Ireland. The law courts are all held there. Exteriorly, little can be said for

Osgoode Hall, whereas the exterior of the Four Courts in Dublin is very fine; but as an interior, the temple of

Themis at Toronto beats hollow that which the goddess owns in Dublin. In Dublin the courts themselves are

shabby, and the space under the dome is not so fine as the exterior seems to promise that it should be. In

Toronto the courts themselves are, I think, the most commodious that I ever saw, and the passages,

vestibules, and hall are very handsome. In Upper Canada the commonlaw judges and those in chancery are

divided as they are in England; but it is, as I was told, the opinion of Canadian lawyers that the work may be

thrown together. Appeal is allowed in criminal cases; but as far as I could learn such power of appeal is held

to be both troublesome and useless. In Lower Canada the old French laws are still administered.

But the University is the glory of Toronto. This is a Gothic building, and will take rank after, but next to, the

buildings at Ottawa. It will be the second piece of noble architecture in Canada, and as far as I know on the

American continent. It is, I believe, intended to be purely Norman, though I doubt whether the received types

of Norman architecture have not been departed from in many of the windows. Be this as it may, the college is

a manly, noble structure, free from false decoration, and infinitely creditable to those who projected it. I was

informed by the head of the college that it has been open only two years; and here also I fancy that the colony

Toronto as a city is not generally attractive to a traveler. The country around it is flat; and, though it stands on

a lake, that lake has no attributes of beauty. Large inland seas, such as are these great Northern lakes of

America, never have such attributes. Picturesque mountains rise from narrow valleys, such as form the beds

of lakes in Switzerland, Scotland, and Northern Italy; but from such broad waters as those of Lake Ontario,

Lake Erie, and Lake Michigan, the shores shelve very gradually, and have none of the materials of lovely

The streets in Toronto are framed with wood, or rather planked, as are those of Montreal and Quebec; but

they are kept in better order. I should say that the planks are first used at Toronto, then sent down by the lake

to Montreal, and when all but rotted out there, are again floated off by the St. Lawrence to be used in the

thoroughfares of the old French capital. But if the streets of Toronto are better than those of the other towns,

the roads around it are worse. I had the honor of meeting two distinguished members of the Provincial

Parliament at dinner some few miles out of town, and, returning back a short while after they had left our

host's house, was glad to be of use in picking them up from a ditch into which their carriage had been upset.

To me it appeared all but miraculous that any carriage should make its way over that road without such

misadventure. I may perhaps be allowed to hope that the discomfiture of these worthy legislators may lead to

I had on a previous occasion gone down the St. Lawrence, through the Thousand Isles and over the Rapids, in

one of those large summer steamboats which ply upon the lake and river. I cannot say that I was much struck

by the scenery, and therefore did not encroach upon my time by making the journey again. Such an opinion

will be regarded as heresy by many who think much of the Thousand Islands. I do not believe that they would

From Toronto we went across to Niagara, reentering the States at Lewiston, in New York.

When the American war began troops were sent out to Canada, and when I was in the provinces more troops

were then expected. The matter was much talked of, as a matter of course, in Canada, and it had been

discussed in England before I left. I had seen much said about it in the English papers since, and it also had

become the subject of very hot question among the politicians of the Northern States. The measure had at that

time given more umbrage to the North than anything else done or said by England from the beginning of the

war up to that time, except the declaration made by Lord John Russell in the House of Commons as to the

neutrality to be preserved by England between the two belligerents. The argument used by the Northern

States was this: if France collects men and material of war in the neighborhood of England, England

considers herself injured, calls for an explanation, and talks of invasion. Therefore, as England is now

collecting men and material of war in our neighborhood, we will consider ourselves injured. It does not suit

us to ask for an explanation, because it is not our habit to interfere with other nations. We will not pretend to

say that we think we are to be invaded. But as we clearly are injured, we will express our anger at that injury,

and when the opportunity shall come will take advantage of having that new grievance.

As we all know, a very large increase of force was sent when we were still in doubt as to the termination of

the Trent affair, and imagined that war was imminent. But the sending of that large force did not anger the

Americans as the first dispatch of troops to Canada had angered them. Things had so turned out that measures

of military precaution were acknowledged by them to be necessary. I cannot, however, but think that Mr.

Seward might have spared that offer to send British troops across Maine, and so also have all his countrymen

As to any attempt at invasion of Canada by the Americans, or idea of punishing the alleged injuries suffered

by the States from Great Britain by the annexation of those provinces, I do not believe that any saneminded

citizens of the States believe in the possibility of such retaliation. Some years since the Americans thought

that Canada might shine in the Union firmament as a new star; but that delusion is, I think, over. Such

annexation, if ever made, must have been made not only against the arms of England, but must also have

been made in accordance with the wishes of the people so annexed. It was then believed that the Canadians

were not averse to such a change, and there may possibly have then been among them the remnant of such a

wish. There is certainly no such desire now, not even a remnant of such a desire; and the truth on this matter

is, I think, generally acknowledged. The feeling in Canada is one of strong aversion to the United States

government and of predilection for selfgovernment under the English Crown. A faineant governor and the

prestige of British power is now the political aspiration of the Canadians in general; and I think that this is

understood in the States. Moreover, the States have a job of work on hand which, as they themselves are well

aware, is taxing all their energies. Such being the case, I do not think that England needs to fear any invasion

This feeling of a grievance on the part of the States was a manifest absurdity. The new reinforcement of the

garrisons in Canada did not, when I was in Canada, amount, as I believe, to more than 2000 men. But had it

amounted to 20,000, the States would have had no just ground for complaint. Of all nationalities that in

modern days have risen to power, they, above all others, have shown that they would do what they liked with

their own, indifferent to foreign counsels and deaf to foreign remonstrance. "Do you go your way, and let us

go ours. We will trouble you with no question, nor do you trouble us." Such has been their national policy,

and it has obtained for them great respect. They have resisted the temptation of putting their fingers into the

caldron of foreign policy; and foreign politicians, acknowledging their reserve in this respect, have not been

offended at the bristles with which their Noli me tangere has been proclaimed. Their intelligence has been

appreciated, and their conduct has been respected. But if this has been their line of policy, they must be

entirely out of court in raising any question as to the position of British troops on British soil.

"It shows us that you doubt us," an American says, with an air of injured honoror did say, before that Trent

affair. "And it is done to express sympathy with the South. The Southerners understand it, and we understand

it also. We know where your hearts arenay, your very souls. They are among the slave begotten cotton

bales of the rebel South." Then comes the whole of the long argument in which it seems so easy to an

Englishman to prove that England, in the whole of this sad matter, has been true and loyal to her friend. She

could not interfere when the husband and wife would quarrel. She could only grieve, and wish that things

might come right and smooth for both parties. But the argument, though so easy, is never effectual.

It seems to me foolish in an American to quarrel with England for sending soldiers to Canada; but I cannot

say that I thought it was well done to send them at the beginning of the war. The English government did not,

I presume, take this step with reference to any possible invasion of Canada by the government of the States.

We are fortifying Portsmouth, and Portland, and Plymouth, because we would fain be safe against the French

army acting under a French Emperor. But we sent 2000 troops to Canada, if I understand the matter rightly,

to guard our provinces against the filibustering energies of a mass of unemployed American soldiers, when

those soldiers should come to be disbanded. When this war shall be over a war during which not much, if

any, under a million of American citizens will have been under armsit will not be easy for all who survive

to return to their old homes and old occupations. Nor does a disbanded soldier always make a good

husbandman, notwithstanding the great examples of Cincinnatus and Birdo'freedom Sawin. It may be that

a considerable amount of filibustering energy will be afloat, and that the then government of those who

neighbor us in Canada will have other matters in hand more important to them than the controlling of these

unruly spirits. That, as I take it, was the evil against which we of Great Britain and of Canada desired to

But I doubt whether 2000 or 10,000 British soldiers would be any effective guard against such inroads, and I

doubt more strongly whether any such external guarding will be necessary. If the Canadians were prepared to

fraternize with filibusters from the States, neither three nor ten thousand soldiers would avail against such a

feeling over a frontier stretching from the State of Maine to the shores of Lake Huron and Lake Erie. If such a

feeling did existif the Canadians wished the changein God's name let them go. It is for their sakes, and

not for our own, that we would have them bound to us. But the Canadians are averse to such a change with a

degree of feeling that amounts to national intensity. Their sympathies are with the Southern States, not

because they care for cotton, not because they are antiabolitionists, not because they admire the hearty pluck

of those who are endeavoring to work out for themselves a new revolution. They sympathize with the South

from strong dislike to the aggression, the braggadocio, and the insolence they have felt upon their own

borders. They dislike Mr. Seward's weak and vulgar joke with the Duke of Newcastle. They dislike Mr.

Everett's flattering hints to his countrymen as to the one nation that is to occupy the whole continent. They

dislike the Monroe doctrine. They wonder at the meekness with which England has endured the vauntings of

the Northern States, and are endued with no such meekness of their own. They would, I believe, be well

prepared to meet and give an account of any filibusters who might visit them; and I am not sure that it is

wisely done on our part to show any intention of taking the work out of their hands.

But I am led to this opinion in no degree by a feeling that Great Britain ought to grudge the cost of the

soldiers. If Canada will be safer with them, in Heaven's name let her have them. It has been argued in many

places, not only with regard to Canada, but as to all our selfgoverned colonies, that military service should

not be given at British expense and with British men to any colony which has its own representative

government and which levies its own taxes. "While Great Britain absolutely held the reins of government,

and did as it pleased with the affairs of its dependencies," such politicians say, "it was just and right that she

should pay the bill. As long as her government of a colony was paternal, so long was it right that the mother

country should put herself in the place of a father, and enjoy a father's undoubted prerogative of putting his

hand into his breeches pocket to provide for all the wants of his child. But when the adult son set up for

himself in businesshaving received education from the parent, and having had his apprentice fees duly

paidthen that son should settle his own bills, and look no longer to the paternal pocket." Such is the law of

the world all over, from little birds, whose young fly away when fledged, upward to men and nations. Let the

father work for the child while he is a child; but when the child has become a man, let him lean no longer on

The argument is, I think, very good; but it proves not that we are relieved from the necessity of assisting our

colonies with payments made out of British taxes, but that we are still bound to give such assistance, and that

we shall continue to be so bound as long as we allow these colonies to adhere to us or as they allow us to

adhere to them. In fact, the young bird is not yet fully fledged. That illustration of the father and the child is a

just one, but in order to make it just it should be followed throughout. When the son is in fact established on

his own bottom, then the father expects that he will live without assistance. But when the son does so live, he

is freed from all paternal control. The father, while he expects to be obeyed, continues to fill the paternal

office of paymasterof paymaster, at any rate, to some extent. And so, I think, it must be with our colonies.

The Canadas at present are not independent, and have not political power of their own apart from the political

power of Great Britain. England has declared herself neutral as regards the Northern and Southern States, and

by that neutrality the Canadas are bound; and yet the Canadas were not consulted in the matter. Should

England go to war with France, Canada must close her ports against French vessels. If England chooses to

send her troops to Canadian barracks, Canada cannot refuse to accept them. If England should send to Canada

an unpopular governor, Canada has no power to reject his services. As long as Canada is a colony so called,

she cannot be independent, and should not be expected to walk alone. It is exactly the same with the colonies

of Australia, with New Zealand, with the Cape of Good Hope, and with Jamaica. While England enjoys the

prestige of her colonies, while she boasts that such large and now populous territories are her dependencies,

she must and should be content to pay some portion of the bill. Surely it is absurd on our part to quarrel with

Caffre warfare, with New Zealand fighting, and the rest of it. Such complaints remind one of an ancient pater

familias who insists on having his children and his grandchildren under the old paternal roof, and then

grumbles because the butcher's bill is high. Those who will keep large households and bountiful tables should

not be afraid of facing the butcher's bill or unhappy at the tonnage of the coal. It is a grand thing, that power

of keeping a large table; but it ceases to be grand when the items heaped upon it cause inward groans and

Why should the colonies remain true to us as children are true to their parents, if we grudge them the

assistance which is due to a child? They raise their own taxes, it is said, and administer them. True; and it is

well that the growing son should do something for himself. While the father does all for him, the son's labor

belongs to the father. Then comes a middle state in which the son does much for himself, but not all. In that

middle state now stand our prosperous colonies. Then comes the time when the son shall stand alone by his

own strength; and to that period of manly, selfrespected strength let us all hope that those colonies are

advancing. It is very hard for a mother country to know when such a time has come; and hard also for the

childcolony to recognize justly the period of its own maturity. Whether or no such severance may ever take

place without a quarrel, without weakness on one side and pride on the other, is a problem in the world's

history yet to be solved. The most successful child that ever yet has gone off from a successful parent, and

taken its own path into the world, is without doubt the nation of the United States. Their present troubles are

the result and the proofs of their success. The people that were too great to be dependent on any nation have

now spread till they are themselves too great for a single nationality. No one now thinks that that daughter

should have remained longer subject to her mother. But the severance was not made in amity, and the shrill

From all this the question arises whether that problem may ever be solved with reference to the Canadas. That

it will never be their destiny to join themselves to the States of the Union, I feel fully convinced. In the first

place it is becoming evident from the present circumstances of the Union, if it had never been made evident

by history before, that different people with different habits, living at long distances from each other, cannot

well be brought together on equal terms under one government. That noble ambition of the Americans that all

the continent north of the isthmus should be united under one flag, has already been thrown from its saddle.

The North and South are virtually separated, and the day will come in which the West also will secede. As

population increases and trades arise peculiar to those different climates, the interests of the people will

differ, and a new secession will take place beneficial alike to both parties. If this be so, if even there be any

tendency this way, it affords the strongest argument against the probability of any future annexation of the

Canadas. And then, in the second place, the feeling of Canada is not American, but British. If ever she be

separated from Great Britain, she will be separated as the States were separated. She will desire to stand

She will desire to stand alone; alone, that is without dependence either on England or on the States. But she is

so circumstanced geographically that she can never stand alone without amalgamation with our other North

American provinces. She has an outlet to the sea at the Gulf of St. Lawrence, but it is only a summer outlet.

Her winter outlet is by railway through the States, and no other winter outlet is possible for her except

through the sister provinces. Before Canada can be nationally great, the line of railway which now runs for

some hundred miles below Quebec to Riviere du Loup must be continued on through New Brunswick and

When I was in Canada I heard the question discussed of a federal government between the provinces of the

two Canadas, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia. To these were added, or not added, according to the opinion

of those who spoke, the smaller outlying colonies of Newfoundland and Prince Edward's Island. If a scheme

for such a government were projected in Downing Street, all would no doubt be included, and a clean sweep

would be made without difficulty. But the project as made in the colonies appears in different guises, as it

comes either from Canada or from one of the other provinces. The Canadian idea would be that the two

Canadas should form two States of such a confederation, and the other provinces a third State. But this slight

participation in power would hardly suit the views of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. In speaking of such a

federal government as this, I shall of course be understood as meaning a confederation acting in connection

with a British governor, and dependent upon Great Britain as far as the different colonies are now dependent.

I cannot but think that such a confederation might be formed with great advantage to all the colonies and to

Great Britain. At present the Canadas are in effect almost more distant from Nova Scotia and New Brunswick

than they are from England. The intercourse between them is very slightso slight that it may almost be said

that there is no intercourse. A few men of science or of political importance may from time to time make their

way from one colony into the other, but even this is not common. Beyond that they seldom see each other.

Though New Brunswick borders both with Lower Canada and with Nova Scotia, thus making one whole of

the three colonies, there is neither railroad nor stage conveyance running from one to the other. And yet their

interests should be similar. From geographical position their modes of life must be alike, and a close

conjunction between them is essentially necessary to give British North America any political importance in

the world. There can be no such conjunction, no amalgamation of interests, until a railway shall have been

made joining the Canada Grand Trunk Line with the two outlying colonies. Upper Canada can feed all

England with wheat, and could do so without any aid of railway through the States, if a railway were made

from Quebec to Halifax. But then comes the question of the cost. The Canada Grand Trunk is at the present

moment at the lowest ebb of commercial misfortune, and with such a fact patent to the world, what company

will come forward with funds for making four or five hundred miles of railway, through a district of which

onehalf is not yet prepared for population? It would be, I imagine, out of the question that such a

speculation should for many years give any fair commercial interest on the money to be expended. But

nevertheless to the coloniesthat is, to the enormous regions of British North Americasuch a railroad

would be invaluable. Under such circumstances it is for the Home Government and the colonies between

them to see how such a measure may be carried out. As a national expenditure, to be defrayed in the course of

years by the territories interested, the sum of money required would be very small.

But how would this affect England? And how would England be affected by a union of the British North

American colonies under one federal government? Before this question can be answered, he who prepares to

answer it must consider what interest England has in her colonies, and for what purpose she holds them. Does

she hold them for profit, or for glory, or for power; or does she hold them in order that she may carry out the

duty which has devolved upon her of extending civilization, freedom, and wellbeing through the new

uprising nations of the world? Does she hold them, in fact, for her own benefit, or does she hold them for

theirs? I know nothing of the ethics of the Colonial Office, and not much perhaps of those of the House of

Commons; but looking at what Great Britain has hitherto done in the way of colonization, I cannot but think

that the national ambition looks to the welfare of the colonists, and not to home aggrandizement. That the two

may run together is most probable. Indeed, there can be no glory to a people so great or so readily recognized

by mankind at large as that of spreading civilization from east to west and from north to south. But the one

object should be the prosperity of the colonists, and not profit, nor glory, nor even power, to the parent

There is no virtue of which more has been said and sung than patriotism, and none which, when pure and

true, has led to finer results. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. To live for one's country also is a very

beautiful and proper thing. But if we examine closely much patriotism, that is so called, we shall find it going

hand in hand with a good deal that is selfish, and with not a little that is devilish. It was some fine fury of

patriotic feeling which enabled the national poet to put into the mouth of every Englishman that horrible

prayer with regard to our enemies which we sing when we wish to do honor to our sovereign. It did not seem

to him that it might be well to pray that their hearts should be softened, and our own hearts softened also.

National success was all that a patriotic poet could desire, and therefore in our national hymn have we gone

on imploring the Lord to arise and scatter our enemies; to confound their politics, whether they be good or ill;

and to expose their knavish trickssuch knavish tricks being taken for granted. And then, with a steady

confidence, we used to declare how certain we were that we should achieve all that was desirable, not exactly

by trusting to our prayer to heaven, but by relying almost exclusively on George the Third or George the

Fourth. Now I have always thought that that was rather a poor patriotism. Luckily for us, our national conduct

has not squared itself with our national anthem. Any patriotism must be poor which desires glory, or even

profit, for a few at the expense of the many, even though the few be brothers and the many aliens. As a rule,

patriotism is a virtue only because man's aptitude for good is so finite that he cannot see and comprehend a

wider humanity. He can hardly bring himself to understand that salvation should be extended to Jew and

Gentile alike. The word philanthropy has become odious, and I would fain not use it; but the thing itself is as

A wish that British North America should ever be severed from England, or that the Australian colonies

should ever be so severed, will by many Englishmen be deemed unpatriotic. But I think that such severance is

to be wished if it be the case that the colonies standing alone would become more prosperous than they are

under British rule. We have before us an example in the United States of the prosperity which has attended

such a rupture of old ties. I will not now contest the point with those who say that the present moment of an

American civil war is ill chosen for vaunting that prosperity. There stand the cities which the people have

built, and their power is attested by the worldwide importance of their present contest. And if the States

have so risen since they left their parent's apronstring, why should not British North America rise as high?

That the time has as yet come for such rising I do not think; but that it will soon come I do most heartily

hope. The making of the railway of which I have spoken, and the amalgamation of the provinces would

greatly tend to such an event. If therefore, England desires to keep these colonies in a state of dependency; if

it be more essential to her to maintain her own power with regard to them than to increase their influence; if

her main object be to keep the colonies and not to improve the colonies, then I should say that an

amalgamation of the Canadas with Nova Scotia and New Brunswick should not be regarded with favor by

statesmen in Downing Street. But if, as I would fain hope, and do partly believe, such ideas of national power

as these are now out of vogue with British statesmen, then I think that such an amalgamation should receive

The United States severed themselves from Great Britain with a great struggle, and after heartburnings and

bloodshed. Whether Great Britain will ever allow any colony of hers to depart from out of her nest, to secede

and start for herself, without any struggle or heartburnings, with all furtherance for such purpose which an

old and powerful country can give to a new nationality then first taking its own place in the world's arena, is a

problem yet to be solved. There is, I think, no more beautiful sight than that of a mother, still in all the glory

of womanhood, preparing the wedding trousseau for her daughter. The child hitherto has been obedient and

submissive. She has been one of a household in which she has held no command. She has sat at table as a

child, fitting herself in all things to the behests of others. But the day of her power and her glory, and also of

her cares and solicitude, is at hand. She is to go forth, and do as she best may in the world under that teaching

which her old home has given her. The hour of separation has come; and the mother, smiling through her

tears, sends her forth decked with a bounteous hand, and furnished with full stores, so that all may be well

with her as she enters on her new duties. So is it that England should send forth her daughters. They should

not escape from her arms with shrill screams and bleeding wounds, with illomened words which live so

But this sending forth of a childnation to take its own political status in the world has never yet been done

by Great Britain. I cannot remember that such has ever been done by any great power with reference to its

dependency; by any power that was powerful enough to keep such dependency within its grasp. But a man

thinking on these matters cannot but hope that a time will come when such amicable severance may be

effected. Great Britain cannot think that through all coming ages she is to be the mistress of the vast continent

of Australia, lying on the other side of the globe's surface; that she is to be the mistress of all South Africa, as

civilization shall extend northward; that the enormous territories of British North America are to be subject

forever to a veto from Downing Street. If the history of past empires does not teach her that this may not be

so, at least the history of the United States might so teach her. "But we have learned a lesson from those

United States," the patriot will argue who dares to hope that the glory and extent of the British empire may

remain unimpaired in saecula saeculorum. "Since that day we have given political rights to our colonies, and

have satisfied the political longings of their inhabitants. We do not tax their tea and stamps, but leave it to

them to tax themselves as they may please." True. But in political aspirations the giving of an inch has ever

created the desire for an ell. If the Australian colonies even now, with their scanty population and still young

civilization, chafe against imperial interference, will they submit to it when they feel within their veins all the

full blood of political manhood? What is the cry even of the Canadiansof the Canadians who are

thoroughly loyal to England? Send us a faineant governor, a King Log, who will not presume to interfere

with us; a governor who will spend his money and live like a gentleman, and care little or nothing for politics.

That is the Canadian beau ideal of a governor. They are to govern themselves; and he who comes to them

from England is to sit among them as the silent representative of England's protection. If that be trueand I

do not think that any who know the Canadas will deny itmust it not be presumed that they will soon also

desire a faineant minister in Downing Street? Of course they will so desire. Men do not become milder in

their aspirations for political power the more that political power is extended to them. Nor would it be well

that they should be so humble in their desires. Nations devoid of political power have never risen high in the

world's esteem. Even when they have been commercially successful, commerce has not brought to them the

greatness which it has always given when joined with a strong political existence. The Greeks are

commercially rich and active; but "Greece" and "Greek" are bywords now for all that is mean. Cuba is a

colony, and putting aside the cities of the States, the Havana is the richest town on the other side of the

Atlantic, and commercially the greatest; but the political villainy of Cuba, her daily importation of slaves, her

breaches of treaty, and the bribery of her all but royal governor, are known to all men. But Canada is not

dishonest; Canada is no byword for anything evil; Canada eats her own bread in the sweat of her brow, and

fears a bad word from no man. True. But why does New York, with its suburbs boast a million of inhabitants,

while Montreal has 85,000? Why has that babe in years, Chicago, 120,000, while Toronto has not half the

number? I do not say that Montreal and Toronto should have gone ahead abreast with New York and

Chicago. In such races one must be first, and one last. But I do say that the Canadian towns will have no

equal chance till they are actuated by that feeling of political independence which has created the growth of

I do not think that the time has yet come in which Great Britain should desire the Canadians to start for

themselves. There is the making of that railroad to be effected, and something done toward the union of those

provinces. Canada could no more stand alone without New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, than could those

latter colonies without Canada. But I think it would be well to be prepared for such a coming day; and that it

would at any rate be well to bring home to ourselves and realize the idea of such secession on the part of our

colonies, when the time shall have come at which such secession may be carried out with profit and security

to them. Great Britain, should she ever send forth her child alone into the world, must of course guarantee her

security. Such guarantees are given by treaties; and, in the wording of them, it is presumed that such treaties

will last forever. It will be argued that in starting British North America as a political power on its own

bottom, we should bind ourself to all the expense of its defense, while we should give up all right to any

interference in its concerns; and that, from a state of things so unprofitable as this, there would be no prospect

of a deliverance. But such treaties, let them be worded how they will, do not last forever. For a time, no

doubt, Great Britain would be so hamperedif indeed she would feel herself hampered by extending her

name and prestige to a country bound to her by ties such as those which would then exist between her and

this new nation. Such treaties are not everlasting, nor can they be made to last even for ages. Those who word

them seem to think that powers and dynasties will never pass away. But they do pass away, and the balance

of power will not keep itself fixed forever on the same pivot. The time may come that it may not come

soon we will all desirebut the time may come when the name and prestige of what we call British North

America will be as serviceable to Great Britain as those of Great Britain are now serviceable to her colonies.

But what shall be the new form of government for the new kingdom? That is a speculation very interesting to

a politician, though one which to follow out at great length in these early days would be rather premature.

That it should be a kingdomthat the political arrangement should be one of which a crowned hereditary

king should form partnineteen out of every twenty Englishmen would desire; and, as I fancy, so would

also nineteen out of every twenty Canadians. A king for the United States, when they first established

themselves, was impossible. A total rupture from the Old World and all its habits was necessary for them.

The name of a king, or monarch, or sovereign had become horrible to their ears. Even to this day they have

not learned the difference between arbitrary power retained in the hand of one man, such as that now held by

the Emperor over the French, and such hereditary headship in the State as that which belongs to the Crown in

Great Britain. And this was necessary, seeing that their division from us was effected by strife, and carried

out with war and bitter animosities. In those days also there was a remnant, though but a small remnant, of

the power of tyranny left within the scope of the British Crown. That small remnant has been removed; and to

me it seems that no form of existing government, no form of government that ever did exist, gives or has

given so large a measure of individual freedom to all who live under it as a constitutional monarchy in which

I will venture then to suggest a king for this new nation; and, seeing that we are rich in princes, there need be

no difficulty in the selection. Would it not be beautiful to see a new nation established under such auspices,

and to establish a people to whom their independence had been given, to whom it had been freely surrendered

Of all the sights on this earth of ours which tourists travel to seeat least of all those which I have seenI

am inclined to give the palm to the Falls of Niagara. In the catalogue of such sights I intend to include all

buildings, pictures, statues, and wonders of art made by men's hands, and also all beauties of nature prepared

by the Creator for the delight of his creatures. This is a long word; but, as far as my taste and judgment go, it

is justified. I know no other one thing so beautiful, so glorious, and so powerful. I would not by this be

understood as saying that a traveler wishing to do the best with his time should first of all places seek

Niagara. In visiting Florence he may learn almost all that modern art can teach. At Rome he will be brought

to understand the cold hearts, correct eyes, and cruel ambition of the old Latin race. In Switzerland he will

surround himself with a flood of grandeur and loveliness, and fill himself, if he be capable of such filling,

with a flood of romance. The tropics will unfold to him all that vegetation in its greatest richness can produce.

In Paris he will find the supreme of polish, the ne plus ultra of varnish according to the world's capability of

varnishing. And in London he will find the supreme of power, the ne plus ultra of work according to the

world's capability of working. Any one of such journeys may be more valuable to a mannay, any one such

journey must be more valuable to a manthan a visit to Niagara. At Niagara there is that fall of waters

alone. But that fall is more graceful than Giotto's tower, more noble than the Apollo. The peaks of the Alps

are not so astounding in their solitude. The valleys of the Blue Mountains in Jamaica are less green. The

finished glaze of life in Paris is less invariable; and the full tide of trade round the Bank of England is not so

I came across an artist at Niagara who was attempting to draw the spray of the waters. "You have a difficult

subject," said I. "All subjects are difficult," he replied, "to a man who desires to do well." "But yours, I fear is

impossible," I said. "You have no right to say so till I have finished my picture," he replied. I acknowledged

the justice of his rebuke, regretted that I could not remain till the completion of his work should enable me to

revoke my words, and passed on. Then I began to reflect whether I did not intend to try a task as difficult in

describing the falls, and whether I felt any of that proud selfconfidence which kept him happy at any rate

while his task was in hand. I will not say that it is as difficult to describe aright that rush of waters as it is to

paint it well. But I doubt whether it is not quite as difficult to write a description that shall interest the reader

as it is to paint a picture of them that shall be pleasant to the beholder. My friend the artist was at any rate not

That the waters of Lake Erie have come down in their courses from the broad basins of Lake Michigan, Lake

Superior, and Lake Huron; that these waters fall into Lake Ontario by the short and rapid river of Niagara;

and that the falls of Niagara are made by a sudden break in the level of this rapid river, is probably known to

all who will read this book. All the waters of these huge northern inland seas run over that breach in the rocky

bottom of the stream; and thence it comes that the flow is unceasing in its grandeur, and that no eye can

perceive a difference in the weight, or sound, or violence of the fall whether it be visited in the drought of

autumn, amid the storms of winter, or after the melting of the upper worlds of ice in the days of the early

summer. How many cataracts does the habitual tourist visit at which the waters fail him! But at Niagara the

waters never fail. There it thunders over its ledge in a volume that never ceases and is never diminishedas

it has done from times previous to the life of man, and as it will do till tens of thousands of years shall see the

This stream divides Canada from the Statesthe western or farthermost bank belonging to the British

Crown, and the eastern or nearer bank being in the State of New York. In visiting Niagara, it always becomes

a question on which side the visitor shall take up his quarters. On the Canada side there is no town; but there

is a large hotel beautifully placed immediately opposite to the falls and this is generally thought to be the best

locality for tourists. In the State of New York is the town called Niagara Falls; and here there are two large

hotels, which, as to their immediate site, are not so well placed as that in Canada. I first visited Niagara some

three years since. I stayed then at the Clifton House, on the Canada side, and have since sworn by that

position. But the Clifton House was closed for the season when I was last there, and on that account we went

to the Cataract House, in the town on the other side. I now think that I should set up my staff on the American

side, if I went again. My advice on the subject to any party starting for Niagara would depend upon their

habits or on their nationality. I would send Americans to the Canadian side, because they dislike walking; but

English people I would locate on the American side, seeing that they are generally accustomed to the frequent

use of their own legs. The two sides are not very easily approached one from the other. Immediately below

the falls there is a ferry, which may be traversed at the expense of a shilling; but the labor of getting up and

down from the ferry is considerable, and the passage becomes wearisome. There is also a bridge; but it is two

miles down the river, making a walk or drive of four miles necessary, and the toll for passing is four shillings,

or a dollar, in a carriage, and one shilling on foot. As the greater variety of prospect can be had on the

American side, as the island between the two falls is approachable from the American side and not from the

Canadian, and as it is in this island that visitors will best love to linger, and learn to measure in their minds

the vast triumph of waters before them, I recommend such of my readers as can trust a littleit need be but a

It has been said that it matters much from what point the falls are first seen, but to this I demur. It matters, I

think, very little, or not at all. Let the visitor first see it all, and learn the whereabouts of every point, so as to

understand his own position and that of the waters; and then, having done that in the way of business, let him

proceed to enjoyment. I doubt whether it be not the best to do this with all sightseeing. I am quite sure that it

is the way in which acquaintance may be best and most pleasantly made with a new picture.

The falls, as I have said, are made by a sudden breach in the level of the river. All cataracts are, I presume,

made by such breaches; but generally the waters do not fall precipitously as they do at Niagara, and never

elsewhere, as far as the world yet knows, has a breach so sudden been made in a river carrying in its channel

such or any approach to such a body of water. Up above the falls for more than a mile the waters leap and

burst over rapids, as though conscious of the destiny that awaits them. Here the river is very broad and

comparatively shallow; but from shore to shore it frets itself into little torrents, and begins to assume the

majesty of its power. Looking at it even here, in the expanse which forms itself over the greater fall, one feels

sure that no strongest swimmer could have a chance of saving himself if fate had cast him in even among

those petty whirlpools. The waters though so broken in their descent, are deliciously green. This color, as

seen early in the morning or just as the sun has set, is so bright as to give to the place one of its chiefest

This will be best seen from the farther end of the islandGoat Island as it is calledwhich, as the reader

will understand, divides the river immediately above the falls. Indeed, the island is a part of that

precipitouslybroken ledge over which the river tumbles, and no doubt in process of time will be worn away

and covered with water. The time, however, will be very long. In the mean while, it is perhaps a mile round,

and is covered thickly with timber. At the upper end of the island the waters are divided, and, coming down

in two courses each over its own rapids, form two separate falls. The bridge by which the island is entered is

a hundred yards or more above the smaller fall. The waters here have been turned by the island, and make

their leap into the body of the river below at a right angle with itabout two hundred yards below the greater

fall. Taken alone, this smaller cataract would, I imagine, be the heaviest fall of water known; but taken in

conjunction with the other, it is terribly shorn of its majesty. The waters here are not green as they are at the

larger cataract; and, though the ledge has been hollowed and bowed by them so as to form a curve, that curve

does not deepen itself into a vast abyss as it does at the horseshoe up above. This smaller fall is again divided;

and the visitor, passing down a flight of steps and over a frail wooden bridge, finds himself on a smaller

But we will go at once on to the glory, and the thunder, and the majesty, and the wrath of that upper hell of

waters. We are still, let the reader remember, on Goat Islandstill in the Statesand on what is called the

American side of the main body of the river. Advancing beyond the path leading down to the lesser fall, we

come to that point of the island at which the waters of the main river begin to descend. From hence across to

the Canadian side the cataract continues itself in one unabated line. But the line is very far from being direct

or straight. After stretching for some little way from the shore to a point in the river which is reached by a

wooden bridge at the end of which stands a tower upon the rock,after stretching to this, the line of the

ledge bends inward against the floodin, and in, and intill one is led to think that the depth of that

horseshoe is immeasurable. It has been cut with no stinting hand. A monstrous cantle has been worn back out

of the center of the rock, so that the fury of the waters converges; and the spectator, as he gazes into the

hollow with wishful eyes, fancies that he can hardly trace out the center of the abyss.

Go down to the end of that wooden bridge, seat yourself on the rail, and there sit till all the outer world is lost

to you. There is no grander spot about Niagara than this. The waters are absolutely around you. If you have

that power of eyecontrio which is so necessary to the full enjoyment of scenery, you will see nothing but the

water. You will certainly hear nothing else; and the sound, I beg you to remember, is not an earcracking,

agonizing crash and clang of noises, but is melodious and soft withal, though loud as thunder. It fills your

ears, and, as it were, envelops them, but at the same time you can speak to your neighbor without an effort.

But at this place, and in these moments, the less of speaking, I should say, the better. There is no grander spot

than this. Here, seated on the rail of the bridge, you will not see the whole depth of the fall. In looking at the

grandest works of nature, and of art too, I fancy it is never well to see all. There should be something left to

the imagination, and much should be half concealed in mystery. The greatest charm of a mountain range is

the wild feeling that there must be strange, unknown, desolate worlds in those faroff valleys beyond. And so

here, at Niagara, that converging rush of waters may fall down, down at once into a hell of rivers, for what

the eye can see. It is glorious to watch them in their first curve over the rocks. They come green as a bank of

emeralds, but with a fitful, flying color, as though conscious that in one moment more they would be dashed

into spray and rise into air, pale as driven snow. The vapor rises high into the air, and is gathered there,

visible always as a permanent white cloud over the cataract; but the bulk of the spray which fills the lower

hollow of that horseshoe is like a tumult of snow. This you will not fully see from your seat on the rail. The

head of it rises ever and anon out of that caldron below, but the caldron itself will be invisible. It is ever so far

downfar as your own imagination can sink it. But your eyes will rest full upon the curve of the waters. The

shape you will be looking at is that of a horseshoe, but of a horseshoe miraculously deep from toe to heel; and

this depth becomes greater as you sit there. That which at first was only great and beautiful becomes gigantic

and sublime, till the mind is at loss to find an epithet for its own use. To realize Niagara, you must sit there

till you see nothing else than that which you have come to see. You will hear nothing else, and think of

nothing else. At length you will be at one with the tumbling river before you. You will find yourself among

the waters as though you belonged to them. The cool, liquid green will run through your veins, and the voice

of the cataract will be the expression of your own heart. You will fall as the bright waters fall, rushing down

into your new world with no hesitation and with no dismay; and you will rise again as the spray rises, bright,

beautiful, and pure. Then you will flow away in your course to the uncompassed, distant, and eternal ocean.

When this state has been reached and has passed away, you may get off your rail and mount the tower. I do

not quite approve of that tower, seeing that it has about it a gingerbread air, and reminds one of those

wellarranged scenes of romance in which one is told that on the left you turn to the lady's bower, price

sixpence; and on the right ascend to the knight's bed, price sixpence more, with a view of the hermit's tomb

thrown in. But nevertheless the tower is worth mounting, and no money is charged for the use of it. It is not

very high, and there is a balcony at the top on which some half dozen persons may stand at ease. Here the

mystery is lost, but the whole fall is seen. It is not even at this spot brought so fully before your eye, made to

show itself in so complete and entire a shape, as it will do when you come to stand near to it on the opposite

or Canadian shore. But I think that it shows itself more beautifully. And the form of the cataract is such that

here, on Goat Island, on the American side, no spray will reach you, although you are absolutely over the

waters. But on the Canadian side, the road as it approaches the fall is wet and rotten with spray, and you, as

you stand close upon the edge, will be wet also. The rainbows as they are seen through the rising cloudfor

the sun's rays as seen through these waters show themselves in a bow, as they do when seen through

rainare pretty enough, and are greatly loved. For myself, I do not care for this prettiness at Niagara. It is

But we are still on the tower; and here I must declare that though I forgive the tower, I cannot forgive the

horrid obelisk which has latterly been built opposite to it, on the Canadian side, up above the fall; built

apparentlyfor I did not go to itwith some cameraobscura intention for which the projector deserves to

be put in Coventry by all good Christian men and women. At such a place as Niagara tasteless buildings, run

up in wrong places with a view to money making, are perhaps necessary evils. It may be that they are not

evils at all; that they give more pleasure than pain, seeing that they tend to the enjoyment of the multitude.

But there are edifices of this description which cry aloud to the gods by the force of their own ugliness and

malposition. As to such, it may be said that there should somewhere exist a power capable of crushing them

in their birth. This new obelisk, or picturebuilding at Niagara, is one of such.

And now we will cross the water, and with this object will return by the bridge out of Goat Island, on the

main land of the American side. But as we do so, let me say that one of the great charms of Niagara consists

in this: that over and above that one great object of wonder and beauty, there is so much little loveliness

loveliness especially of water I mean. There are little rivulets running here and there over little falls, with

pendent boughs above them, and stones shining under their shallow depths. As the visitor stands and looks

through the trees, the rapids glitter before him, and then hide themselves behind islands. They glitter and

sparkle in far distances under the bright foliage, till the remembrance is lost, and one knows not which way

they run. And then the river below, with its whirlpool,but we shall come to that byandby, and to the

mad voyage which was made down the rapids by that mad captain who ran the gantlet of the waters at the

risk of his own life, with fifty to one against him, in order that he might save another man's property from the

The readiest way across to Canada is by the ferry; and on the American side this is very pleasantly done. You

go into a little house, pay twenty cents, take a seat on a wooden car of wonderful shape, and on the touch of a

spring find yourself traveling down an inclined plane of terrible declivity, and at a very fast rate. You catch a

glance of the river below you, and recognize the fact that if the rope by which you are held should break, you

would go down at a very fast rate indeed, and find your final restingplace in the river. As I have gone down

some dozen times, and have come to no such grief, I will not presume that you will be less lucky. Below

there is a boat generally ready. If it be not there, the place is not chosen amiss for a rest of ten minutes, for the

lesser fall is close at hand, and the larger one is in full view. Looking at the rapidity of the river, you will

think that the passage must be dangerous and difficult. But no accidents ever happen, and the lad who takes

you over seems to do it with sufficient ease. The walk up the hill on the other side is another thing. It is very

steep, and for those who have not good locomotive power of their own, will be found to be disagreeable. In

the full season, however, carriages are generally waiting there. In so short a distance I have always been

ashamed to trust to other legs than my own, but I have observed that Americans are always dragged up. I

have seen single young men of from eighteen to twentyfive, from whose outward appearance no story of

idle, luxurious life can be read, carried about alone in carriages over distances which would be counted as

nothing by any healthy English lady of fifty. None but the old invalids should require the assistance of

carriages in seeing Niagara, but the trade in carriages is to all appearance the most brisk trade there.

Having mounted the hill on the Canada side, you will walk on toward the falls. As I have said before, you

will from this side look directly into the full circle of the upper cataract, while you will have before you, at

your left hand, the whole expanse of the lesser fall. For those who desire to see all at a glance, who wish to

comprise the whole with their eyes, and to leave nothing to be guessed, nothing to be surmised, this no doubt

You will be covered with spray as you walk up to the ledge of rocks, but I do not think that the spray will

hurt you. If a man gets wet through going to his daily work, cold, catarrh, cough, and all their attendant evils,

may be expected; but these maladies usually spare the tourist. Change of air, plenty of air, excellence of air,

and increased exercise, make these things powerless. I should therefore bid you disregard the spray. If,

however, you are yourself of a different opinion, you may hire a suit of oilcloth clothes for, I believe, a

quarter of a dollar. They are nasty of course, and have this further disadvantage, that you become much more

Here, on this side, you walk on to the very edge of the cataract, and, if your tread be steady and your legs

firm, you dip your foot into the water exactly at the spot where the thin outside margin of the current reaches

the rocky edge and jumps to join the mass of the fall. The bed of white foam beneath is certainly seen better

here than elsewhere, and the green curve of the water is as bright here as when seen from the wooden rail

across. But nevertheless I say again that that wooden rail is the one point from whence Niagara may be best

Close to the cataract, exactly at the spot from whence in former days the Table Rock used to project from the

land over the boiling caldron below, there is now a shaft, down which you will descend to the level of the

river, and pass between the rock and the torrent. This Table Rock broke away from the cliff and fell, as up the

whole course of the river the seceding rocks have split and fallen from time to time through countless years,

and will continue to do till the bed of the upper lake is reached. You will descend this shaft, taking to yourself

or not taking to yourself a suit of oilclothes as you may think best. I have gone with and without the suit,

and again recommend that they be left behind. I am inclined to think that the ordinary payment should be

made for their use, as otherwise it will appear to those whose trade it is to prepare them that you are injuring

Some three years since I visited Niagara on my way back to England from Bermuda, and in a volume of

travels which I then published I endeavored to explain the impression made upon me by this passage between

the rock and the waterfall. An author should not quote himself; but as I feel myself bound, in writing a

chapter specially about Niagara, to give some account of this strange position, I will venture to repeat my

In the spot to which I allude the visitor stands on a broad, safe path, made of shingles, between the rock over

which the water rushes and the rushing water. He will go in so far that the spray, rising back from the bed of

the torrent, does not incommode him. With this exception, the farther he can go in the better; but

circumstances will clearly show him the spot to which he should advance. Unless the water be driven in by a

very strong wind, five yards make the difference between a comparatively dry coat and an absolutely wet

one. And then let him stand with his back to the entrance, thus hiding the last glimmer of the expiring day. So

standing, he will look up among the falling waters, or down into the deep, misty pit, from which they

reascend in almost as palpable a bulk. The rock will be at his right hand, high and hard, and dark and

straight, like the wall of some huge cavern, such as children enter in their dreams. For the first five minutes

he will be looking but at the waters of a cataractat the waters, indeed, of such a cataract as we know no

other, and at their interior curves which elsewhere we cannot see. But byandby all this will change. He will

no longer be on a shingly path beneath a waterfall; but that feeling of a cavern wall will grow upon him, of a

cavern deep, below roaring seas, in which the waves are there, though they do not enter in upon him; or

rather, not the waves, but the very bowels of the ocean. He will feel as though the floods surrounded him,

coming and going with their wild sounds, and he will hardly recognize that though among them he is not in

them. And they, as they fall with a continual roar, not hurting the ear, but musical withal, will seem to move

as the vast ocean waters may perhaps move in their internal currents. He will lose the sense of one continued

descent, and think that they are passing round him in their appointed courses. The broken spray that rises

from the depths below, rises so strongly, so palpably, so rapidly that the motion in every direction will seem

equal. And, as he looks on, strange colors will show themselves through the mist; the shades of gray will

become green or blue, with ever and anon a flash of white; and then, when some gust of wind blows in with

greater violence, the seagirt cavern will become all dark and black. Oh, my friend, let there be no one there

to speak to thee then; no, not even a brother. As you stand there speak only to the waters.

Two miles below the falls the river is crossed by a suspension bridge of marvelous construction. It affords

two thoroughfares, one above the other. The lower road is for carriages and horses, and the upper one bears a

railway belonging to the Great Western Canada Line. The view from hence, both up and down the river, is

very beautiful, for the bridge is built immediately over the first of a series of rapids. One mile below the

bridge these rapids end in a broad basin called the whirlpool, and, issuing out of this, the current turns to the

right through a narrow channel overhung by cliffs and trees, and then makes its way down to Lake Ontario

But I will beg you to take notice of those rapids from the bridge, and to ask yourself what chance of life

would remain to any ship, craft, or boat required by destiny to undergo navigation beneath the bridge and

down into that whirlpool. Heretofore all men would have said that no chance of life could remain to so

illstarred a bark. The navigation, however, has been effected. But men used to the river still say that the

chances would be fifty to one against any vessel which should attempt to repeat the experiment.

The story of that wondrous voyage was as follows: A small steamer, called the Maid of the Mist, was built

upon the river, between the falls and the rapids, and was used for taking adventurous tourists up amid the

spray as near to the cataract as was possible. "The Maid of the Mist plied in this way for a year or two, and

was, I believe, much patronized during the season. But in the early part of last summer an evil time had come.

Either the Maid got into debt, or her owner had embarked in other and less profitable speculations. At any

rate, he became subject to the law, and tidings reached him that the sheriff would seize the Maid. On most

occasions the sheriff is bound to keep such intentions secret, seeing that property is movable, and that an

insolvent debtor will not always await the officers of justice. But with the poor Maid there was no need of

such secrecy. There was but a mile or so of water on which she could ply, and she was forbidden by the

nature of her properties to make any way upon land, The sheriff's prey, therefore, was easy, and the poor

In any country in the world but America such would have been the case; but an American would steam down

Phlegethon to save his property from the sheriffhe would steam down Phlegethon, or get some one else to

do it for him. Whether or no, in this case, the captain of the boat was the proprietor, or whether, as I was told,

he was paid for the job, I do not know. But he determined to run the rapids, and he procured two others to

accompany him in the risk. He got up his steam, and took the Maid up amid the spray according to his

custom. Then, suddenly turning on his course, he, with one of his companions, fixed himself at the wheel,

while the other remained at his engine. I wish I could look into the mind of that man, and understand what his

thoughts were at that moment what were his thoughts and what his beliefs. As to one of the men, I was

told that he was carried down not knowing what he was about to do but I am inclined to believe that all the

I was told by a man who saw the boat pass under the bridge that she made one long leap down, as she came

thither; that her funnel was at once knocked flat on the deck by the force of the blow; that the waters covered

her from stem to stern; and that then she rose again, and skimmed into the whirlpool a mile below. When

there she rode with comparative ease upon the waters, and took the sharp turn round into the river below

without a struggle. The feat was done, and the Maid was rescued from the sheriff. It is said that she was sold

below at the mouth of the river, and carried from thence over Lake Ontario, and down the St. Lawrence to

From Niagara we determined to proceed Northwestas far to the Northwest as we could go with any

reasonable hope of finding American citizens in a state of political civilization, and perhaps guided also in

some measure by our hopes as to hotel accommodation. Looking to these two matters, we resolved to get

across to the Mississippi, and to go up that river as far as the town of St. Paul and the Falls of St. Anthony,

which are some twelve miles above the town; then to descend the river as far as the States of Iowa on the

west and Illinois on the east; and to return eastward through Chicago and the large cities on the southern

shores of Lake Erie, from whence we would go across to Albany, the capital of New York state, and down

the Hudson to New York, the capital of the Western World. For such a journey, in which scenery was one

great object, we were rather late, as we did not leave Niagara till the 10th of October; but though the winters

are extremely cold through all this portion of the American continentfifteen, twenty, and even twentyfive

degrees below zero being an ordinary state of the atmosphere in latitudes equal to those of Florence, Nice,

and Turinnevertheless the autumns are mild, the noonday being always warm, and the colors of the foliage

are then in all their glory. I was also very anxious to ascertain, if it might be in my power to do so, with what

spirit or true feeling as to the matter the work of recruiting for the now enormous army of the States was

going on in those remote regions. That men should be on fire in Boston and New York, in Philadelphia and

along the borders of secession, I could understand. I could understand also that they should be on fire

throughout the cotton, sugar, and rice plantations of the South. But I could hardly understand that this

political fervor should have communicated itself to the faroff farmers who had thinly spread themselves

over the enormous wheatgrowing districts of the Northwest. St. Paul, the capital of Minnesota, is nine

hundred miles directly north of St. Louis, the most northern point to which slavery extends in the Western

States of the Union; and the farming lands of Minnesota stretch away again for some hundreds of miles north

and west of St. Paul. Could it be that those scanty and faroff pioneers of agriculturethose frontier farmers,

who are nearly onehalf German and nearly the other half Irish, would desert their clearings and ruin their

chances of progress in the world for distant wars of which the causes must, as I thought, be to them

unintelligible? I had been told that distance had but lent enchantment to the view, and that the war was even

more popular in the remote and newlysettled States than in those which have been longer known as great

It may be as well to explain here that that great political Union hitherto called the United States of America

may be more properly divided into three than into two distinct interests, In England we have long heard of

North and South as pitted against each other, and we have always understood that the Southern politicians, or

Democrats, have prevailed over the Northern politicians, or Republicans, because they were assisted in their

views by Northern men of mark who have held Southern principlesthat is, by Northern men who have

been willing to obtain political power by joining themselves to the Southern party. That, as far as I can

understand, has been the general idea in England, and in a broad way it has been true, But as years have

advanced, and as the States have extended themselves westward, a third large party has been formed, which

sometimes rejoices to call itself The Great West; and though, at the present time, the West and the North are

joined together against the South, the interests of the North and West are not, I think, more closely

interwoven than are those of the West and South; and when the final settlement of this question shall be

made, there will doubtless be great difficulty in satisfying the different aspirations and feelings of two great

freesoil populations. The North, I think, will ultimately perceive that it will gain much by the secession of

the South; but it will be very difficult to make the West believe that secession will suit its views.

I will attempt, in a rough way, to divide the States, as they seem to divide themselves, into these three parties.

As to the majority of them, there is no difficulty in locating them; but this cannot be done with absolute

New England consists of six States, of which all of course belong to the North. They are Maine, New

Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticutthe six States which should be most

dear to England, and in which the political success of the United States as a nation is to my eyes the most

apparent. But even in them there was till quite of late a strong section so opposed to the Republican party as

to give a material aid to the South. This, I think, was particularly so in New Hampshire, from whence

President Pierce came. He had been one of the Senators from New Hampshire; and yet to him, as President, is

affixed the disgracewhether truly affixed or not I do not sayof having first used his power in secretly

organizing those arrangements which led to secession and assisted at its birth. In Massachusetts itself, also,

there was a strong Democratic party, of which Massachusetts now seems to be somewhat ashamed. Then, to

make up the North, must be added the two great States of New York and Pennsylvania and the small State of

New Jersey. The West will not agree even to this absolutely, seeing that they claim all territory west of the

Alleghanies, and that a portion of Pennsylvania and some part also of New York lie westward of that range;

but, in endeavoring to make these divisions ordinarily intelligible, I may say that the North consists of the

nine States above named. But the North will also claim Maryland and Delaware, and the eastern half of

Virginia. The North will claim them, though they are attached to the South by joint participation in the great

social institution of slaveryfor Maryland, Delaware, and Virginia are slave Statesand I think that the

North will ultimately make good its claim. Maryland and Delaware lie, as it were, behind the capital, and

Eastern Virginia is close upon the capital. And these regions are not tropical in their climate or influences.

They are and have been slave States, but will probably rid themselves of that taint, and become a portion of

The Southern or slave States, properly so called, are easily defined. They are Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas,

Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina. The South will also claim

Tennessee, Kentucky, Missouri, Virginia, Delaware, and Maryland, and will endeavor to prove its right to the

claim by the fact of the social institution being the law of the land in those States. Of Delaware, Maryland,

and Eastern Virginia, I have already spoken. Western Virginia is, I think, so little tainted with slavery that, as

she stands even at present, she properly belongs to the West. As I now write, the struggle is going on in

Kentucky and Missouri. In Missouri the slave population is barely more than a tenth of the whole, while in

South Carolina and Mississippi it is more than half. And, therefore, I venture to count Missouri among the

Western States, although slavery is still the law of the land within its borders. It is surrounded on three sides

by free States of the West, and its soil, let us hope, must become free. Kentucky I must leave as doubtful,

though I am inclined to believe that slavery will be abolished there also. Kentucky, at any rate, will never

throw in its lot with the Southern States. As to Tennessee, it seceded heart and soul, and I fear that it must be

accounted as Southern, although the Northern army has now, in May, 1862, possessed itself of the greater

To the great West remains an enormous territory, of which, however, the population is as yet but scanty;

though perhaps no portion of the world has increased so fast in population as have these Western States. The

list is as follows: Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas to which I would

add Missouri, and probably the Western half of Virginia. We have then to account for the two already

admitted States on the Pacific, California and Oregon, and also for the unadmitted Territories, Dacotah,

Nebraska, Washington, Utah, New Mexico, Colorado, and Nevada. I should be refining too much for my

present very general purpose, if I were to attempt to marshal these huge but thinlypopulated regions in either

rank. Of California and Oregon it may probably be said that it is their ambition to form themselves into a

I know that all statistical statements are tedious, and I believe that but few readers believe them. I will,

however, venture to give the populations of these States in the order I have named them, seeing that power in

America depends almost entirely on population. The census of 1860 gave the following results:

Maine 619,000 New Hampshire 326,872 Vermont 325,827 Massachusetts 1,231,494 Rhode Island 174,621

Connecticut 460,670 New York 3,851,563 Pennsylvania 2,916,018 New Jersey 676,034 Total

Texas 415,999 184,956 600,955 Louisiana 354,245 312,186 666,431 Arkansas 331,710 109,065 440,775

Mississippi 407,051 479,607 886,658 Alabama 520,444 435,473 955,917 Florida 81,885 63,809 145,694

Georgia 615,366 467,461 1,082,827 South Carolina 308,186 407,185 715,371 North Carolina 679,965

Maryland 646,183 85,382 731,565 Delaware 110,548 1,805 112,353 Virginia 1,097,373 495,826 1,593,199

Ohio 2,377,917 Indiana 1,350,802 Illinois 1,691,238 Michigan 754,291 Wisconsin 763,485 Minnesota

To these must be added, to make up the population of the United States as it stood in 1860,

The separate District of Columbia, in which is included Washington, the seat of the Federal Government

75,321 California 384,770 Oregon 52,566 The Territories of Dacotah 4,839 Nebraska 28,892 Washington

North 10,582,099 South 7,649,660 Doubtful 3,582,684 West 9,140,390 Outlying States and Territories

Each of the three interests would consider itself wronged by the division above made, but the South would

probably be the loudest in asserting its grievance. The South claims all the slave States, and would point to

secession in Virginia to justify such claim, and would point also to Maryland and Baltimore, declaring that

secession would be as strong there as at New Orleans, if secession were practicable. Maryland and Baltimore

lie behind Washington, and are under the heels of the Northern troops, so that secession is not practicable; but

the South would say that they have seceded in heart. In this the South would have some show of reason for its

assertion; but nevertheless I shall best convey a true idea of the position of these States by classing them as

doubtful. When secession shall have been accomplishedif ever it be accomplished it will hardly be

It will be seen by the foregoing tables that the population of the West is nearly equal to that of the North, and

that therefore Western power is almost as great as Northern. It is almost as great already, and as population in

the West increases faster than it does in the North, the two will soon be equalized. They are already

sufficiently on a par to enable them to fight on equal terms, and they will be prepared for fightingpolitical

fighting, if no otheras soon as they have established their supremacy over a common enemy.

While I am on the subject of population I should explainthough the point is not one which concerns the

present argumentthat the numbers given, as they regard the South, include both the whites and the blacks,

the free men and the slaves. The political power of the South is of course in the hands of the white race only,

and the total white population should therefore be taken as the number indicating the Southern power. The

political power of the South, however, as contrasted with that of the North, has, since the commencement of

the Union, been much increased by the slave population. The slaves have been taken into account in

determining the number of representatives which should be sent to Congress by each State. That number

depends on the population but it was decided in l787 that in counting up the number of representatives to

which each State should be held to be entitled, five slaves should represent three white men. A Southern

population, therefore, of five thousand free men and five thousand slaves would claim as many

representatives as a Northern population of eight thousand free men, although the voting would be confined

The Western power is nearly equal to that of the North, and this fact, somewhat exaggerated in terms, is a

frequent boast in the mouths of Western men. "We ran Fremont for President," they say, "and had it not been

for Northern men with Southern principles, we should have put him in the White House instead of the traitor

Buchanan. If that had been done there would have been no secession." How things might have gone had

Fremont been elected in lieu of Buchanan, I will not pretend to say; but the nature of the argument shows the

difference that exists between Northern and Western feeling. At the time that I was in the West, General

Fremont was the great topic of public interest. Every newspaper was discussing his conduct, his ability as a

soldier, his energy, and his fate. At that time General McClellan was in command at Washington on the

Potomac, it being understood that he held his power directly under the President, free from the exercise of

control on the part of the veteran General Scott, though at that time General Scott had not actually resigned

his position as head of the army. And General Fremont, who some five years before had been "run" for

President by the Western States, held another command of nearly equal independence in Missouri. He had

been put over General Lyon in the Western command, and directly after this General Lyon had fallen in battle

at Springfield, in the first action in which the opposing armies were engaged in the West. General Fremont at

once proceeded to carry matters with a very high hand, On the 30th of August, 1861, he issued a

proclamation by which he declared martial law at St. Louis, the city at which he held his headquarters, and

indeed throughout the State of Missouri generally. In this proclamation he declared his intention of exercising

a severity beyond that ever threatened, as I believe, in modern warfare. He defines the region presumed to be

held by his army of occupation, drawing his lines across the State, and then declares "that all persons who

shall be taken with arms in their hands within those lines shall be tried by courtmartial, and if found guilty

will be shot." He then goes on to say that he will confiscate all the property of persons in the State who shall

have taken up arms against the Union, or shall have taken part with the enemies of the Union, and that he will

make free all slaves belonging to such persons. This proclamation was not approved at Washington, and was

modified by the order of the President. It was understood also that he issued orders for military expenditure

which were not recognized at Washington, and men began to understand that the army in the West was

gradually assuming that irresponsible military position which, in disturbed countries and in times of civil war,

has so frequently resulted in a military dictatorship. Then there arose a clamor for the removal of General

Fremont. A semiofficial account of his proceedings, which had reached Washington from an officer under

his command, was made public, and also the correspondence which took place on the subject between the

President and General Fremont's wife. The officer in question was thereupon placed under arrest, but

immediately released by orders from Washington. He then made official complaint of his general, sending

forward a list of charges, in which Fremont was accused of rashness, incompetency, want of fidelity of the

interests of the government, and disobedience to orders from headquarters. After awhile the Secretary of War

himself proceeded from Washington to the quarters of General Fremont at St. Louis, and remained there for a

day or two making, or pretending to make, inquiry into the matter. But when he returned he left the General

still in command. During the whole month of October the papers were occupied in declaring in the morning

that General Fremont had been recalled from his command, and in the evening that he was to remain. In the

mean time they who befriended his cause, and this included the whole West, were hoping from day to day

that he would settle the matter for himself and silence his accusers, by some great military success. General

Price held the command opposed to him, and men said that Fremont would sweep General Price and his army

down the valley of the Mississippi into the sea. But General Price would not be so swept, and it began to

appear that a guerrilla warfare would prevail; that General Price, if driven southward, would reappear behind

the backs of his pursuers, and that General Fremont would not accomplish all that was expected of him with

that rapidity for which his friends had given him credit. So the newspapers still went on waging the war, and

every morning General Fremont was recalled, and every evening they who had recalled him were shown up

"Never mind; he is a pioneer man, and will do a'most anything he puts his hand to," his friends in the West

still said. "He understands the frontier." Understanding the frontier is a great thing in Western America,

across which the vanguard of civilization continues to march on in advance from year to year. "And it's he

that is bound to sweep slavery from off the face of this continent. He's the man, and he's about the only man."

I am not qualified to write the life of General Fremont, and can at present only make this slight reference to

the details of his romantic career. That it has been full of romance, and that the man himself is endued with a

singular energy, and a high, romantic idea of what may be done by power and will, there is no doubt. Five

times he has crossed the Continent of North America from Missouri to Oregon and California, enduring great

hardships in the service of advancing civilization and knowledge. That he has considerable talent, immense

energy, and strong selfconfidence, I believe. He is a frontier manone of those who care nothing for

danger, and who would dare anything with the hope of accomplishing a great career. But I have never heard

that he has shown any practical knowledge of high military matters. It may be doubted whether a man of this

stamp is well fitted to hold the command of a nation's army for great national purposes. May it not even be

presumed that a man of this class is of all men the least fitted for such a work? The officer required should be

a man with two specialtiesa specialty for military tactics and a specialty for national duty. The army in the

West was far removed from headquarters in Washington, and it was peculiarly desirable that the general

commanding it should be one possessing a strong idea of obedience to the control of his own government.

Those frontier capabilitiesthat selfdependent energy for which his friends gave Fremont, and probably

justly gave him, such unlimited creditare exactly the qualities which are most dangerous in such a position.

I have endeavored to explain the circumstances of the Western command in Missouri as they existed at the

time when I was in the Northwestern States, in order that the double action of the North and West may be

understood. I, of course, was not in the secret of any official persons; but I could not but feel sure that the

government in Washington would have been glad to have removed Fremont at once from the command, had

they not feared that by so doing they would have created a schism, as it were, in their own camp, and have

done much to break up the integrity or oneness of Northern loyalty. The Western people almost to a man

desired abolition. The States there were sending out their tens of thousands of young men into the army with

a prodigality as to their only source of wealth which they hardly recognized themselves, because this to them

was a fight against slavery. The Western population has been increased to a wonderful degree by a German

infusionso much so that the Western towns appear to have been peopled with Germans. I found regiments

of volunteers consisting wholly of Germans. And the Germans are all abolitionists. To all the men of the

West the name of Fremont is dear. He is their hero and their Hercules. He is to cleanse the stables of the

Southern king, and turn the waters of emancipation through the foul stalls of slavery. And therefore, though

the Cabinet in Washington would have been glad for many reasons to have removed Fremont in October last,

it was at first scared from committing itself to so strong a measure. At last, however, the charges made

against him were too fully substantiated to allow of their being set on one side; and early in November, 1861,

he was superseded. I shall be obliged to allude again to General Fremont's career as I go on with my

At this time the North was looking for a victory on the Potomac; but they were no longer looking for it with

that impatience which in the summer had led to the disgrace at Bull's Run. They had recognized the fact that

their troops must be equipped, drilled, and instructed; and they had also recognized the perhaps greater fact

that their enemies were neither weak, cowardly, nor badly officered. I have always thought that the tone and

manner with which the North bore the defeat at Bull's Run was creditable to it. It was never denied, never

explained away, never set down as trifling. "We have been whipped," was what all Northerners said; "we've

got an almighty whipping, and here we are." I have heard many Englishmen complain of thissaying that

the matter was taken almost as a joke, that no disgrace was felt, and that the licking was owned by a people

who ought never to have allowed that they had been licked. To all this, however, I demur. Their only chance

of speedy success consisted in their seeing and recognizing the truth. Had they confessed the whipping, and

then sat down with their hands in their pocketshad they done as secondrate boys at school will do, declare

that they had been licked, and then feel that all the trouble is overthey would indeed have been open to

reproach. The old mother across the water would in such case have disowned her son. But they did the very

reverse of this. "I have been whipped," Jonathan said, and he immediately went into training under a new

And so all through September and October the great armies on the Potomac rested comparatively in

quietthe Northern forces drawing to themselves immense levies. The general confidence in McClellan was

then very great; and the cautious measures by which he endeavored to bring his vast untrained body of men

under discipline were such as did at that time recommend themselves to most military critics. Early in

September the Northern party obtained a considerable advantage by taking the fort at Cape Hatteras, in North

Carolina, situated on one of those long banks which lie along the shores of the Southern States; but, toward

the end of October, they experienced a considerable reverse in an attack which was made on the secessionists

by General Stone, and in which Colonel Baker was killed. Colonel Baker had been Senator for Oregon, and

was well known as an orator. Taking all things together, however, nothing material had been done up to the

end of October; and at that time Northern men were waitingnot perhaps impatiently, considering the great

hopes and perhaps great fears which filled their hearts, but with eager expectationfor some event of which

The man to whom they had trusted all their hopes was young for so great a command. I think that, at this

time, (October, 1861,) General McClellan was not yet thirtyfive. He had served, early in life, in the Mexican

war, having come originally from Pennsylvania, and having been educated at the military college at West

Point. During our war with Russia he was sent to the Crimea by his own government, in conjunction with two

other officers of the United States army, that they might learn all that was to be learned there as to military

tactics, and report especially as to the manner in which fortifications were made and attacked. I have been

informed that a very able report was sent in by them to the government on their return, and that this was

drawn up by McClellan. But in America a man is not only a soldier, or always a soldier, nor is he always a

clergyman if once a clergyman: he takes a spell at anything suitable that may be going. And in this way

McClellan was, for some years, engaged on the Central Illinois Railway, and was for a considerable time the

head manager of that concern. We all know with what suddenness he rose to the highest command in the

I have endeavored to describe what were the feelings of the West in the autumn of 1861 with regard to the

war. The excitement and eagerness there were very great, and they were perhaps as great in the North. But in

the North the matter seemed to me to be regarded from a different point of view. As a rule, the men of the

North are not abolitionists. It is quite certain that they were not so before secession began. They hate slavery

as we in England hate it; but they are aware, as also are we, that the disposition of four million of black men

and women forms a question which cannot be solved by the chivalry of any modern Orlando. The property

invested in these four million slaves forms the entire wealth of the South. If they could be wafted by a

philanthropic breeze back to the shores of Africaa breeze of which the philanthropy would certainly not be

appreciated by those so waftedthe South would be a wilderness. The subject is one as full of difficulty as

any with which the politicians of these days are tormented. The Northerners fully appreciate this, and, as a

rule, are not abolitionists in the Western sense of the word. To them the war is recommended by precisely

those feelings which animated us when we fought for our colonieswhen we strove to put down American

independence. Secession is rebellion against the government, and is all the more bitter to the North because

that rebellion broke out at the first moment of Northern ascendency. "We submitted," the North says, "to

Southern Presidents, and Southern statesmen, and Southern councils, because we obeyed the vote of the

people. But as to youthe voice of the people is nothing in your estimation! At the first moment in which

the popular vote places at Washington a President with Northern feelings, you rebel. We submitted in your

days; and, by Heaven! you shall submit in ours. We submitted loyally, through love of the law and the

Constitution. You have disregarded the law and thrown over the Constitution. But you shall be made to

It must also be remembered that on commercial questions the North and the West are divided. The Morrill

tariff is as odious to the West as it is to the South. The South and West are both agricultural productive

regions, desirous of sending cotton and corn to foreign countries, and of receiving back foreign manufactures

on the best terms. But the North is a manufacturing countrya poor manufacturing country as regards

excellence of manufactureand therefore the more anxious to foster its own growth by protective laws. The

Morrill tariff is very injurious to the West, and is odious there. I might add that its folly has already been so

far recognized even in the North as to make it very generally odious there also.

So much I have said endeavoring to make it understood how far the North and West were united in feeling

against the South in the autumn of 1861, and how far there existed between them a diversity of interests.

From Niagara we went by the Canada Great Western Railway to Detroit, the big city of Michigan. It is an

American institution that the States should have a commercial capitalor what I call their big cityas well

as a political capital, which may, as a rule, be called the State's central city. The object in choosing the

political capital is average nearness of approach from the various confines of the State but commerce submits

to no such Procrustean laws in selecting her capitals and consequently she has placed Detroit on the borders

of Michigan, on the shore of the neck of water which joins Lake Huron to Lake Erie, through which all the

trade must flow which comes down from Lakes Michigan, Superior, and Huron on its way to the Eastern

States and to Europe. We had thought of going from Buffalo across Lake Erie to Detroit; but we found that

the better class of steamers had been taken off the waters for the winter. And we also found that navigation

among these lakes is a mistake whenever the necessary journey can be taken by railway. Their waters are by

no means smooth, and then there is nothing to be seen. I do not know whether others may have a feeling,

almost instinctive, that lake navigation must be pleasantthat lakes must of necessity be beautiful. I have

such a feeling, but not now so strongly as formerly. Such an idea should be kept for use in Europe, and never

brought over to America with other traveling gear. The lakes in America are cold, cumbrous, uncouth, and

uninterestingintended by nature for the conveyance of cereal produce, but not for the comfort of traveling

men and women. So we gave up our plan of traversing the lake, and, passing back into Canada by the

suspension bridge at Niagara, we reached the Detroit River at Windsor by the Great Western line, and passed

In making this journey at night we introduced ourselves to the thoroughly American institution of

sleepingcarsthat is, of cars in which beds are made up for travelers. The traveler may have a whole bed,

or half a bed, or no bed at all, as he pleases, paying a dollar or half a dollar extra should he choose the partial

or full fruition of a couch. I confess I have always taken a delight in seeing these beds made up, and consider

that the operations of the change are generally as well executed as the manoeuvres of any pantomime at

Drury Lane. The work is usually done by negroes or colored men, and the domestic negroes of America are

always light handed and adroit. The nature of an American car is no doubt known to all men. It looks as far

removed from all bedroom accommodation as the baker's barrow does from the steam engine into which it

is to be converted by Harlequin's wand. But the negro goes to work much more quietly than the Harlequin;

and for every four seats in the railway car he builds up four beds almost as quickly as the hero of the

pantomime goes through his performance. The great glory of the Americans is in their wondrous

contrivances in their patent remedies for the usually troublous operations of life. In their huge hotels all the

bell ropes of each house ring on one bell only; but a patent indicator discloses a number, and the whereabouts

of the ringer is shown. One fire heats every room, passage, hall, and cupboard, and does it so effectually that

the inhabitants are all but stifled. Sodawater bottles open themselves without any trouble of wire or strings.

Men and women go up and down stairs without motive power of their own. Hot and cold water are laid on to

all the chambers; though it sometimes happens that the water from both taps is boiling, and that, when once

turned on, it cannot be turned off again by any human energy. Everything is done by a new and wonderful

patent contrivance; and of all their wonderful contrivances, that of their railroad beds is by no means the

least. For every four seats the negro builds up four bedsthat is, four half beds, or accommodation for four

persons. Two are supposed to be below, on the level of the ordinary four seats, and two up above on shelves

which are let down from the roof. Mattresses slip out from one nook and pillows from another. Blankets are

added, and the bed is ready. Any over particular individualan islander, for instance, who hugs his

chainswill generally prefer to pay the dollar for the double accommodation. Looking at the bed in the light

of a bedtaking, as it were, an abstract view of itor comparing it with some other bed or beds with which

the occupant may have acquaintance, I cannot say that it is in all respects perfect. But distances are long in

America; and he who declines to travel by night will lose very much time. He who does so travel will find the

railway bed a great relief. I must confess that the feeling of dirt, on the following morning, is rather

From Windsor, on the Canada side, we passed over to Detroit, in the State of Michigan, by a steam ferry. But

ferries in England and ferries in America are very different. Here, on this Detroit ferry, some hundred of

passengers, who were going forward from the other side without delay, at once sat down to breakfast. I may

as well explain the way in which disposition is made of one's luggage as one takes these long journeys. The

traveler, when he starts, has his baggage checked. He abandons his trunkgenerally a box, studded with

nails, as long as a coffin and as high as a linen chestand, in return for this, he receives an iron ticket with a

number on it. As he approaches the end of his first installment of travel and while the engine is still working

its hardest, a man comes up to him, bearing with him, suspended on a circular bar, an infinite variety of other

checks. The traveler confides to this man his wishes, and, if he be going farther without delay, surrenders his

check and receives a countercheck in return. Then, while the train is still in motion, the new destiny of the

trunk is imparted to it. But another man, with another set of checks, also comes the way, walking leisurely

through the train as he performs his work. This is the minister of the hotelomnibus institution. His business

is with those who do not travel beyond the next terminus. To him, if such be your intention, you make your

confidence, giving up your tallies, and taking other tallies by way of receipt; and your luggage is afterward

found by you in the hall of your hotel. There is undoubtedly very much of comfort in this; and the mind of

the traveler is lost in amazement as he thinks of the futile efforts with which he would struggle to regain his

luggage were there no such arrangement. Enormous piles of boxes are disclosed on the platform at all the

larger stations, the numbers of which are roared forth with quick voice by some two or three railway denizens

at once. A modest English voyager, with six or seven small packages, would stand no chance of getting

anything if he were left to his own devices. As it is, I am bound to say that the thing is well done. I have had

my desk with all my money in it lost for a day, and my black leather bag was on one occasion sent back over

the line. They, however, were recovered; and, on the whole, I feel grateful to the check system of the

American railways. And then, too, one never hears of extra luggage. Of weight they are quite regardless. On

two or three occasions an overwrought official has muttered between his teeth that ten packages were a great

many, and that some of those "light fixings" might have been made up into one. And when I came to

understand that the number of every check was entered in a book, and re entered at every change, I did

whisper to my wife that she ought to do without a bonnet box. The ten, however, went on, and were always

duly protected. I must add, however, that articles requiring tender treatment will sometimes reappear a little

I have not much to say of Detroitnot much, that is, beyond what I have to say of all the North. It is a large,

wellbuilt, half finished city lying on a convenient waterway, and spreading itself out with promises of a

wide and still wider prosperity. It has about it perhaps as little of intrinsic interest as any of those large

Western towns which I visited. It is not so pleasant as Milwaukee, nor so picturesque as St. Paul, nor so grand

as Chicago, nor so civilized as Cleveland, nor so busy as Buffalo. Indeed, Detroit is neither pleasant nor

picturesque at all. I will not say that it is uncivilized; but it has a harsh, crude, unprepossessing appearance. It

has some 70,000 inhabitants, and good accommodation for shipping. It was doing an enormous business

before the war began, and, when these troublous times are over, will no doubt again go ahead. I do not,

however, think it well to recommend any Englishman to make a special visit to Detroit who may be wholly

uncommercial in his views, and travel in search of that which is either beautiful or interesting.

From Detroit we continued our course westward across the State of Michigan, through a country that was

absolutely wild till the railway pierced it, Very much of it is still absolutely wild. For miles upon miles the

road passes the untouched forest, showing that even in Michigan the great work of civilization has hardly

more than been commenced. One thinks of the all but countless population which is, before long, to be fed

from these regionsof the cities which will grow here, and of the amount of government which in due time

will be requiredone can hardly fail to feel that the division of the United States into separate nationalities is

merely a part of the ordained work of creation as arranged for the wellbeing of mankind. The States already

boast of thirty millions of inhabitantsnot of unnoticed and unnoticeable beings requiring little, knowing

little, and doing little, such as are the Eastern hordes, which may be counted by tens of millions, but of men

and women who talk loudly and are ambitious, who eat beef, who read and write, and understand the dignity

of manhood. But these thirty millions are as nothing to the crowds which will grow sleek, and talk loudly,

and become aggressive on these wheat and meat producing levels. The country is as yet but touched by the

pioneering hand of population. In the old countries, agriculture, following on the heels of pastoral, patriarchal

life, preceded the birth of cities. But in this young world the cities have come first. The new Jasons, blessed

with the experience of the Old World adventurers, have gone forth in search of their golden fleeces, armed

with all that the science and skill of the East had as yet produced, and, in settling up their new Colchis, have

begun by the erection of first class hotels and the fabrication of railroads. Let the Old World bid them God

speed in their work. Only it would be well if they could be brought to acknowledge from whence they have

Our route lay right across the State to a place called Grand Haven, on Lake Michigan, from whence we were

to take boat for Milwaukee, a town in Wisconsin, on the opposite or western shore of the lake. Michigan is

sometimes called the Peninsular State, from the fact that the main part of its territory is surrounded by Lakes

Michigan and Huron, by the little Lake St. Clair and by Lake Erie. It juts out to the northward from the main

land of Indiana and Ohio, and is circumnavigable on the east, north, and west. These particulars, however,

refer to a part of the State only; for a portion of it lies on the other side of Lake Michigan, between that and

Lake Superior. I doubt whether any large inland territory in the world is blessed with such facilities of water

On arriving at Grand Haven we found that there had been a storm on the lake, and that the passengers from

the trains of the preceding day were still remaining there, waiting to be carried over to Milwaukee. The water

howeveror the sea, as they all call itwas still very high, and the captain declared his intention of

remaining there that night; whereupon all our fellowtravelers huddled themselves into the great lake

steamboat, and proceeded to carry on life there as though they were quite at home. The men took themselves

to the barroom, and smoked cigars and talked about the war with their feet upon the counter; and the women

got themselves into rockingchairs in the saloon, and sat there listless and silent, but not more listless and

silent than they usually are in the big drawingrooms of the big hotels. There was supper there precisely at

six o'clockbeefsteaks, and tea, and apple jam, and hot cakes, and light fixings, to all which luxuries an

American deems himself entitled, let him have to seek his meal where he may. And I was soon informed,

with considerable energy, that let the boat be kept there as long as it might by stress of weather, the

beefsteaks and apple jam, light fixings and heavy fixings, must be supplied at the cost of the owners of the

ship. "Your first supper you pay for," my informant told me, "because you eat that on your own account.

What you consume after that comes of their doing, because they don't start; and if it's three meals a day for a

week, it's their look out." It occurred to me that, under such circumstances, a captain would be very apt to sail

It was a bright moonlight nightmoonlight such as we rarely have in Englandand I started off by myself

for a walk, that I might see of what nature were the environs of Grand Haven. A more melancholy place I

never beheld. The town of Grand Haven itself is placed on the opposite side of a creek, and was to be reached

by a ferry. On our side, to which the railway came and from which the boat was to sail, there was nothing to

be seen but sand hills, which stretched away for miles along the shore of the lake. There were great sand

mountains and sand valleys, on the surface of which were scattered the debris of dead trees, scattered logs

white with age, and boughs half buried beneath the sand. Grand Haven itself is but a poor place, not having

succeeded in catching much of the commerce which comes across the lake from Wisconsin, and which takes

itself on Eastward by the railway. Altogether, it is a dreary place, such as might break a man's heart should he

On my return I went down into the barroom of the steamer, put my feet upon the counter, lit my cigar, and

struck into the debate then proceeding on the subject of the war. I was getting West, and General Fremont

was the hero of the hour. "He's a frontier man, and that's what we want. I guess he'll about go through. Yes,

sir." "As for relieving General Fremont," (with the accent always strongly on the "mont,") "I guess you may

as well talk of relieving the whole West. They won't meddle with Fremont. They are beginning to know in

Washington what stuff he's made of." "Why, sir, there are 50,000 men in these States who will follow

Fremont, who would not stir a foot after any other man." From which, and the like of it in many other

places, I began to understand how difficult was the task which the statesmen in Washington had in hand.

I received no pecuniary advantage whatever from that law as to the steamboat meals which my new friend

had revealed to me. For my one supper of course I paid, looking forward to any amount of subsequent

gratuitous provisions. But in the course of the night the ship sailed, and we found ourselves at Milwaukee in

Milwaukee is a pleasant town, a very pleasant town, containing 45,000 inhabitants. How many of my readers

can boast that they know anything of Milwaukee, or even have heard of it? To me its name was unknown

until I saw it on huge railway placards stuck up in the smokingrooms and lounging halls of all American

hotels. It is the big town of Wisconsin, whereas Madison is the capital. It stands immediately on the western

shore of Lake Michigan, and is very pleasant. Why it should be so, and why Detroit should be the contrary, I

can hardly tell; only I think that the same verdict would be given by any English tourist. It must be always

borne in mind that 10,000 or 40,000 inhabitants in an American town, and especially in any new Western

town, is a number which means much more than would be implied by any similar number as to an old town

in Europe. Such a population in America consumes double the amount of beef which it would in England,

wears double the amount of clothes, and demands double as much of the comforts of life. If a census could be

taken of the watches, it would be found, I take it, that the American population possessed among them nearly

double as many as would the English; and I fear also that it would be found that many more of the Americans

were readers and writers by habit. In any large town in England it is probable that a higher excellence of

education would be found than in Milwaukee, and also a style of life into which more of refinement and more

of luxury had found its way. But the general level of these things, of material and intellectual wellbeingof

beef, that is, and book learningis no doubt infinitely higher in a new American than in an old European

town. Such an animal as a beggar is as much unknown as a mastodon. Men out of work and in want are

almost unknown. I do not say that there are none of the hardships of lifeand to them I will come

byandbybut want is not known as a hardship in these towns, nor is that dense ignorance in which so

large a proportion of our town populations is still steeped. And then the town of 40,000 inhabitants is spread

over a surface which would suffice in England for a city of four times the size. Our towns in Englandand

the towns, indeed, of Europe generallyhave been built as they have been wanted. No aspiring ambition as

to hundreds of thousands of people warmed the bosoms of their first founders. Two or three dozen men

required habitations in the same locality, and clustered them together closely. Many such have failed and died

out of the world's notice. Others have thriven, and houses have been packed on to houses, till London and

Manchester, Dublin and Glasgow have been produced. Poor men have built, or have had built for them,

wretched lanes, and rich men have erected grand palaces. From the nature of their beginnings such has, of

necessity, been the manner of their creation. But in America, and especially in Western America, there has

been no such necessity and there is no such result. The founders of cities have had the experience of the

world before them. They have known of sanitary laws as they began. That sewerage, and water, and gas, and

good air would be needed for a thriving community has been to them as much a matter of fact as are the

wellunderstood combinations between timber and nails, and bricks and mortar. They have known that water

carriage is almost a necessity for commercial success, and have chosen their sites accordingly. Broad streets

cost as little, while land by the foot is not as yet of value to be regarded, as those which are narrow; and

therefore the sites of towns have been prepared with noble avenues and imposing streets. A city at its

commencement is laid out with an intention that it shall be populous. The houses are not all built at once, but

there are the places allocated for them. The streets are not made, but there are the spaces. Many an abortive

attempt at municipal greatness has so been made and then all but abandoned. There are wretched villages,

with huge, straggling parallel ways, which will never grow into towns. They are the failuresfailures in

which the pioneers of civilization, frontier men as they call themselves, have lost their tens of thousands of

dollars. But when the success comes, when the happy hit has been made, and the ways of commerce have

been truly foreseen with a cunning eye, then a great and prosperous city springs up, ready made as it were,

from the earth. Such a town is Milwaukee, now containing 45,000 inhabitants, but with room apparently for

double that number; with room for four times that number, were men packed as closely there as they are with

In the principal business streets of all these towns one sees vast buildings. They are usually called blocks, and

are often so denominated in large letters on their front, as Portland Block, Devereux Block, Buel's Block.

Such a block may face to two, three, or even four streets, and, as I presume, has generally been a matter of

one special speculation. It may be divided into separate houses, or kept for a single purpose, such as that of a

hotel, or grouped into shops below, and into various sets of chambers above. I have had occasion in various

towns to mount the stairs within these blocks, and have generally found some portion of them vacant have

sometimes found the greater portion of them vacant. Men build on an enormous scale, three times, ten times

as much as is wanted. The only measure of size is an increase on what men have built before. Monroe P.

Jones, the speculator, is very probably ruined, and then begins the world again nothing daunted. But Jones's

block remains, and gives to the city in its aggregate a certain amount of wealth. Or the block becomes at once

of service and finds tenants. In which case Jones probably sells it, and immediately builds two others twice as

big. That Monroe P. Jones will encounter ruin is almost a matter of course; but then he is none the worse for

being ruined. It hardly makes him unhappy. He is greedy of dollars with a terrible covetousness; but he is

greedy in order that he may speculate more widely. He would sooner have built Jones's tenth block, with a

prospect of completing a twentieth, than settle himself down at rest for life as the owner of a Chatsworth or a

Woburn. As for his children, he has no desire of leaving them money. Let the girls marry. And for the

boysfor them it will be good to begin as he begun. If they cannot build blocks for themselves, let them earn

their bread in the blocks of other men. So Monroe P. Jones, with his million of dollars accomplished,

advances on to a new frontier, goes to work again on a new city, and loses it all. As an individual I differ very

much from Monroe P. Jones. The first block accomplished, with an adequate rent accruing to me as the

builder, I fancy that I should never try a second. But Jones is undoubtedly the man for the West. It is that love

of money to come, joined to a strong disregard for money made, which constitutes the vigorous frontier mind,

the true pioneering organization. Monroe P. Jones would be a great man to all posterity if only he had a poet

It may be imagined how large in proportion to its inhabitants will be a town which spreads itself in this way.

There are great houses left untenanted, and great gaps left unfilled. But if the place be successful, if it

promise success, it will be seen at once that there is life all through it. Omnibuses, or street cars working on

rails, run hither and thither. The shops that have been opened are well filled. The great hotels are thronged.

The quays are crowded with vessels, and a general feeling of progress pervades the place. It is easy to

perceive whether or no an American town is going ahead. The days of my visit to Milwaukee were days of

civil war and national trouble, but in spite of civil war and national trouble Milwaukee looked healthy.

I have said that there was but little povertylittle to be seen of real want in these thriving townsbut that

they who labored in them had nevertheless their own hardships. This is so. I would not have any man believe

that he can take himself to the Western States of Americato those States of which I am now speaking

Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, or Illinois, and there by industry escape the ills to which flesh is heir.

The laboring Irish in these towns eat meat seven days a week, but I have met many a laboring Irishman

among them who has wished himself back in his old cabin. Industry is a good thing, and there is no bread so

sweet as that which is eaten in the sweat of a man's brow; but labor carried to excess wearies the mind as well

as body, and the sweat that is ever running makes the bread bitter. There is, I think, no taskmaster over free

labor so exacting as an American. He knows nothing of hours, and seems to have that idea of a man which a

lady always has of a horse. He thinks that he will go forever. I wish those masons in London who strike for

nine hours' work with ten hours' pay could be driven to the labor market of Western America for a spell. And

moreover, which astonished me, I have seen men driven and hurried, as it were forced forward at their work,

in a manner which, to an English workman, would be intolerable. This surprised me much, as it was at

variance with ouror perhaps I should say with mypreconceived ideas as to American freedom. I had

fancied that an American citizen would not submit to be driven; that the spirit of the country, if not the spirit

of the individual, would have made it impossible. I thought that the shoe would have pinched quite on the

other foot. But I found that such driving did exist, and American masters in the West with whom I had an

opportunity of discussing the subject all admitted it. "Those men'll never half move unless they're driven," a

foreman said to me once as we stood together over some twenty men who were at their work. "They kinder

look for it, and don't well know how to get along when they miss it." It was not his business at this moment to

drivenor was he driving. He was standing at some little distance from the scene with me, and speculating

on the sight before him. I thought the men were working at their best; but their movements did not satisfy his

practiced eye, and he saw at a glance that there was no one immediately over them.

But there is worse even than this. Wages in these regions are what we should call high. An agricultural

laborer will earn perhaps fifteen dollars a month and his board, and a town laborer will earn a dollar a day. A

dollar may be taken as representing four shillings, though it is in fact more. Food in these parts is much

cheaper than in England, and therefore the wages must be considered as very good. In making, however, a

just calculation it must be borne in mind that clothing is dearer than in England, and that much more of it is

necessary. The wages nevertheless are high, and will enable the laborer to save money, if only he can get

them paid. The complaint that wages are held back, and not even ultimately paid, is very common. There is

no fixed rule for satisfying all such claims once a week, and thus debts to laborers are contracted, and when

contracted are ignored. With us there is a feeling that it is pitiful, mean almost beyond expression, to wrong a

laborer of his hire. We have men who go in debt to tradesmen perhaps without a thought of paying them; but

when we speak of such a one who has descended into the lowest mire of insolvency, we say that he has not

paid his washerwoman. Out there in the West the washerwoman is as fair game as the tailor, the domestic

servant as the wine merchant. If a man be honest he will not willingly take either goods or labor without

payment; and it may be hard to prove that he who takes the latter is more dishonest than he who takes the

former; but with us there is a prejudice in favor of one's washerwoman by which the Western mind is not

weakened. "They certainly have to be smart to get it," a gentleman said to me whom I had taxed on the

subject. "You see, on the frontier a man is bound to be smart. If he aint smart, he'd better go back East,

perhaps as far as Europe; he'll do there." I had got my answer, and my friend had turned the question; but the

Why this should be so is a question to answer which thoroughly would require a volume in itself. As to the

driving, why should men submit to it, seeing that labor is abundant, and that in all newlysettled countries the

laborer is the true hero of the age? In answer to this is to be alleged the fact that hired labor is chiefly done by

fresh comers, by Irish and Germans, who have not as yet among them any combination sufficient to protect

them from such usage. The men over them are new as masters, masters who are rough themselves, who

themselves have been roughly driven, and who have not learned to be gracious to those below them. It is a

part of their contract that very hard work shall be exacted, and the driving resolves itself into this: that the

master, looking after his own interest, is constantly accusing his laborer of a breach of his part of the contract.

The men no doubt do become used to it, and slacken probably in their endeavors when the tongue of the

master or foreman is not heard. But as to that matter of non payment of wages, the men must live; and here,

as elsewhere, the master who omits to pay once will hardly find laborers in future. The matter would remedy

itself elsewhere, and does it not do so here? This of course is so, and it is not to be understood that labor as a

rule is defrauded of its hire. But the relation of the master and the man admit of such fraud here much more

frequently than in England. In England the laborer who did not get his wages on the Saturday, could not go

on for the next week. To him, under such circumstances, the world would be coming to an end. But in the

Western States the laborer does not live so completely from hand to mouth. He is rarely paid by the week, is

accustomed to give some credit, and, till hard pressed by bad circumstances, generally has something by him.

They do save money, and are thus fattened up to a state which admits of victimization. I cannot owe money

to the little village cobbler who mends my shoes, because he demands and receives his payment when his job

is done. But to my friend in Regent Street I extend my custom on a different system; and when I make my

start for continental life I have with him a matter of unsettled business to a considerable extent. The American

laborer is in the condition of the Regent Street bootmaker, excepting in this respect, that he gives his credit

under compulsion. "But does not the law set him right? Is there no law against debtors?" The laws against

debtors are plain enough as they are written down, but seem to be anything but plain when called into action.

They are perfectly understood, and operations are carried on with the express purpose of evading them. If you

proceed against a man, you find that his property is in the hands of some one else. You work in fact for Jones,

who lives in the street next to you; but when you quarrel with Jones about your wages, you find that

according to law you have been working for Smith, in another State. In all countries such dodges are

probably practicable. But men will or will not have recourse to such dodges according to the light in which

they are regarded by the community. In the Western States such dodges do not appear to be regarded as

Honesty is the best policy. That is a doctrine which has been widely preached, and which has recommended

itself to many minds as being one of absolute truth. It is not very ennobling in its sentiment, seeing that it

advocates a special virtue, not on the ground that that virtue is in itself a thing beautiful, but on account of the

immediate reward which will be its consequence. Smith is enjoined not to cheat Jones, because he will, in the

long run, make more money by dealing with Jones on the square. This is not teaching of the highest order;

but it is teaching well adapted to human circumstances, and has obtained for itself a wide credit. One is

driven, however, to doubt whether even this teaching is not too high for the frontier man. Is it possible that a

frontier man should be scrupulous and at the same time successful? Hitherto those who have allowed scruples

to stand in their way have not succeeded; and they who have succeeded and made for themselves great

names, who have been the pioneers of civilization, have not allowed ideas of exact honesty to stand in their

way. From General Jason down to General Fremont there have been men of great aspirations but of slight

scruples. They have been ambitious of power and desirous of progress, but somewhat regardless how power

and progress shall be attained. Clive and Warren Hastings were great frontier men, but we cannot imagine

that they had ever realized the doctrine that honesty is the best policy. Cortez, and even Columbus, the prince

of frontier men, are in the same category. The names of such heroes is legion; but with none of them has

absolute honesty been a favorite virtue. "It behoves a frontier man to be smart, sir." Such, in that or other

language, has been the prevailing idea. Such is the prevailing idea. And one feels driven to ask one's self

whether such must not be the prevailing idea with those who leave the world and its rules behind them, and

Of filibustering, annexation, and polishing savages off the face of creation there has been a great deal, and

who can deny that humanity has been the gainer? It seems to those who look widely back over history, that

all such works have been carried on in obedience to God's laws. When Jacob by Rebecca's aid cheated his

elder brother, he was very smart; but we cannot but suppose that a better race was by this smartness put in

possession of the patriarchal scepter. Esau was polished off, and readers of Scripture wonder why heaven,

with its thunder, did not open over the heads of Rebecca and her son. But Jacob, with all his fraud, was the

chosen one. Perhaps the day may come when scrupulous honesty may be the best policy, even on the frontier.

I can only say that hitherto that day seems to be as distant as ever. I do not pretend to solve the problem, but

simply record my opinion that under circumstances as they still exist I should not willingly select a frontier

I have said that all great frontier men have been unscrupulous. There is, however, an exception in history

which may perhaps serve to prove the rule. The Puritans who colonized New England were frontier men, and

were, I think, in general scrupulously honest. They had their faults. They were stern, austere men, tyrannical

at the backbone when power came in their way, as are all pioneers, hard upon vices for which they who made

At Milwaukee I went up to see the Wisconsin volunteers, who were then encamped on open ground in the

close vicinity of the town. Of Wisconsin I had heard beforeand have heard the same opinion repeated

sincethat it was more backward in its volunteering than its neighbor States in the West. Wisconsin has

760,000 inhabitants, and its tenth thousand of volunteers was not then made up; whereas Indiana, with less

than double its number, had already sent out thirtysix thousand. Iowa, with a hundred thousand less of

inhabitants, had then made up fifteen thousand. But neverthless to me it seemed that Wisconsin was quite

alive to its presumed duty in that respect. Wisconsin, with its threequarters of a million of people, is as large

as England. Every acre of it may be made productive, but as yet it is not half cleared. Of such a country its

young men are its heart's blood. Ten thousand men, fit to bear arms, carried away from such a land to the

horrors of civil war, is a sight as full of sadness as any on which the eye can rest. Ah me, when will they

return, and with what altered hopes! It is, I fear, easier to turn the sickle into the sword than to recast the

We found a completed regiment at Wisconsin consisting entirely of Germans. A thousand Germans had been

collected in that State and brought together in one regiment, and I was informed by an officer on the ground

that there are many Germans in sundry other of the Wisconsin regiments. It may be well to mention here that

the number of Germans through all these Western States is very great. Their number and wellbeing were to

me astonishing. That they form a great portion of the population of New York, making the German quarter of

that city the third largest German town in the world, I have long known; but I had no previous idea of their

expansion westward. In Detroit nearly every third shop bore a German name, and the same remark was to be

made at Milwaukee; and on all hands I heard praises of their morals, of their thrift, and of their new

patriotism. I was continually told how far they exceeded the Irish settlers. To me in all parts of the world an

Irishman is dear. When handled tenderly he becomes a creature most lovable. But with all my judgment in

the Irishman's favor, and with my prejudices leaning the same way, I feel myself bound to state what I heard

But this regiment of Germans, and another not completed regiment, called from the State generally, were as

yet without arms, accouterments, or clothing. There was the raw material of the regiment, but there was

nothing else. Winter was coming onwinter in which the mercury is commonly twenty degrees below

zeroand the men were in tents with no provision against the cold. These tents held each two men, and were

just large enough for two to lie. The canvas of which they were made seemed to me to be thin, but was, I

think, always double. At this camp there was a house in which the men took their meals, but I visited other

camps in which there was no such accommodation. I saw the German regiment called to its supper by tuck of

drum, and the men marched in gallantly, armed each with a knife and spoon. I managed to make my way in at

the door after them, and can testify to the excellence of the provisions of which their supper consisted. A poor

diet never enters into any combination of circumstances contemplated by an American. Let him be where he

will, animal food is with him the first necessary of life, and he is always provided accordingly. As to those

Wisconsin men whom I saw, it was probable that they might be marched off, down South to Washington, or

to the doubtful glories of the Western campaign under Fremont, before the winter commenced. The same

might have been said of any special regiment. But taking the whole mass of men who were collected under

canvas at the end of the autumn of 1861, and who were so collected without arms or military clothing, and

without protection from the weather, it did seem that the task taken in hand by the Commissariat of the

The view from Milwaukee over Lake Michigan is very pleasing. One looks upon a vast expanse of water to

which the eye finds no bounds, and therefore there are none of the common attributes of lake beauty; but the

color of the lake is bright, and within a walk of the city the traveler comes to the bluffs or low roundtopped

hills, from which we can look down upon the shores. These bluffs form the beauty of Wisconsin and

Minnesota, and relieve the eye after the flat level of Michigan. Round Detroit there is no rising ground, and

I have said that those who are called on to labor in these States have their own hardships, and I have

endeavored to explain what are the sufferings to which the town laborer is subject. To escape from this is the

laborer's great ambition, and his mode of doing so consists almost universally in the purchase of land. He

saves up money in order that he may buy a section of an allotment, and thus become his own master. All his

savings are made with a view to this independence. Seated on his own land he will have to work probably

harder than ever, but he will work for himself. No task master can then stand over him and wound his pride

with harsh words. He will be his own master; will eat the food which he himself has grown, and live in the

cabin which his own hands have built. This is the object of his life; and to secure this position he is content to

work late and early and to undergo the indignities of previous servitude. The government price for land is

about five shillings an acreone dollar and a quarterand the settler may get it for this price if he be

contented to take it not only untouched as regards clearing, but also far removed from any completed road.

The traffic in these lands has been the great speculating business of Western men. Five or six years ago, when

the rage for such purchases was at its height, land was becoming a scarce article in the market. Individuals or

companies bought it up with the object of reselling it at a profit; and many, no doubt, did make money.

Railway companies were, in fact, companies combined for the purchase of land. They purchased land,

looking to increase the value of it fivefold by the opening of a railroad. It may easily be understood that a

railway, which could not be in itself remunerative, might in this way become a lucrative speculation. No

settler could dare to place himself absolutely at a distance from any thoroughfare. At first the margins of

nature's highways, the navigable rivers and lakes, were cleared. But as the railway system grew and expanded

itself, it became manifest that lands might be rendered quickly available which were not so circumstanced by

nature. A company which had purchased an enormous territory from the United States government at five

shillings an acre might well repay itself all the cost of a railway through that territory, even though the

receipts of the railway should do no more than maintain the current expenses. It is in this way that the

thousands of miles of American railroads have been opened; and here again must be seen the immense

advantages which the States as a new country have enjoyed. With us the purchase of valuable land for

railways, together with the legal expenses which those compulsory purchases entailed, have been so great that

with all our traffic railways are not remunerative. But in the States the railways have created the value of the

land. The States have been able to begin at the right end, and to arrange that the districts which are benefited

The government price of land is 125 cents, or about five shillings an acre; and even this need not be paid at

once if the settler purchase directly from the government. He must begin by making certain improvements on

the selected landclearing and cultivating some small portion, building a hut, and probably sinking a well.

When this has been donewhen he has thus given a pledge of his intentions by depositing on the land the

value of a certain amount of labor, he cannot be removed. He cannot be removed for a term of years, and then

if he pays the price of the land it becomes his own with an indefeasible title. Many such settlements are made

on the purchase of warrants for land. Soldiers returning from the Mexican wars were donated with warrants

for landthe amount being 160 acres, or the quarter of a section. The localities of such lands were not

specified, but the privilege granted was that of occupying any quartersection not hitherto tenanted. It will, of

course, be understood that lands favorably situated would be tenanted. Those contiguous to railways were of

course so occupied, seeing that the lines were not made till the lands were in the hands of the companies. It

may therefore be understood of what nature would be the traffic in these warrants. The owner of a single

warrant might find it of no value to him. To go back utterly into the woods, away from river or road, and

there to commence with 160 acres of forest, or even of prairie, would be a hopeless task even to an American

settler. Some mode of transport for his produce must be found before his produce would be of valuebefore,

indeed, he could find the means of living. But a company buying up a large aggregate of such warrants would

possess the means of making such allotments valuable and of reselling them at greatly increased prices.

The primary settler, thereforewho, however, will not usually have been the primary ownergoes to work

upon his land amid all the wildness of nature. He levels and burns the first trees, and raises his first crop of

corn amid stumps still standing four or five feet above the soil; but he does not do so till some mode of

conveyance has been found for him. So much I have said hoping to explain the mode in which the frontier

speculator paves the way for the frontier agriculturist. But the permanent farmer very generally comes on the

land as the third owner. The first settler is a rough fellow, and seems to be so wedded to his rough life that he

leaves his land after his first wild work is done, and goes again farther off to some untouched allotment. He

finds that he can sell his improvements at a profitable rate and takes the price. He is a preparer of farms rather

than a farmer. He has no love for the soil which his hand has first turned. He regards it merely as an

investment; and when things about him are beginning to wear an aspect of comfort, when his property has

become valuable, he sells it, packs up his wife and little ones, and goes again into the woods. The Western

American has no love for his own soil or his own house. The matter with him is simply one of dollars. To

keep a farm which he could sell at an advantage from any feeling of affectionfrom what we should call an

association of ideaswould be to him as ridiculous as the keeping of a family pig would be in an English

farmer's establishment. The pig is a part of the farmer's stock in trade, and must go the way of all pigs. And

so is it with house and land in the life of the frontier man in the Western States.

But yet this man has his romance, his high poetic feeling, and above all his manly dignity. Visit him, and you

will find him without coat or waistcoat, unshorn, in ragged blue trowsers and old flannel shirt, too often

bearing on his lantern jaws the signs of ague and sickness; but he will stand upright before you and speak to

you with all the ease of a lettered gentleman in his own library. All the odious incivility of the republican

servant has been banished. He is his own master, standing on his own threshold, and finds no need to assert

his equality by rudeness. He is delighted to see you, and bids you sit down on his battered bench without

dreaming of any such apology as an English cottier offers to a Lady Bountiful when she calls. He has worked

out his independence, and shows it in every easy movement of his body. He tells you of it unconsciously in

every tone of his voice. You will always find in his cabin some newspaper, some book, some token of

advance in education. When he questions you about the old country he astonishes you by the extent of his

knowledge. I defy you not to feel that he is superior to the race from whence he has sprung in England or in

Ireland. To me I confess that the manliness of such a man is very charming. He is dirty, and, perhaps, squalid.

His children are sick and he is without comforts. His wife is pale, and you think you see shortness of life

written in the faces of all the family. But over and above it all there is an independence which sits gracefully

on their shoulders, and teaches you at the first glance that the man has a right to assume himself to be your

equal. It is for this position that the laborer works, bearing hard words and the indignity of tyranny; suffering

also too often the dishonest ill usage which his superior power enables the master to inflict.

"I have lived very rough," I heard a poor woman say, whose husband had ill used and deserted her. "I have

known what it is to be hungry and cold, and to work hard till my bones have ached. I only wish that I might

have the same chance again. If I could have ten acres cleared two miles away from any living being, I could

be happy with my children. I find a kind of comfort when I am at work from daybreak to sundown, and know

that it is all my own." I believe that life in the backwoods has an allurement to those who have been used to it

From Milwaukee we went across Wisconsin, and reached the Mississippi at La Crosse. From hence,

according to agreement, we were to start by steamer at once up the river. But we were delayed again, as had

It had been promised to us that we should start from La Crosse by the river steamer immediately on our

arrival there; but, on reaching La Crosse, we found that the vessel destined to take us up the river had not yet

come down. She was bringing a regiment from Minnesota, and, under such circumstances, some pardon

might be extended to irregularities. This plea was made by one of the boat clerks in a very humble tone, and

was fully accepted by us. The wonder was that, at such a period, all means of public conveyance were not put

absolutely out of gear. One might surmise that when regiments were constantly being moved for the purposes

of civil warwhen the whole North had but the one object of collecting together a sufficient number of men

to crush the Southordinary traveling for ordinary purposes would be difficult, slow, and subject to sudden

stoppages. Such, however, was not the case either in the Northern or Western States. The trains ran much as

usual, and those connected with the boats and railways were just as anxious as ever to secure passengers. The

boat clerk at La Crosse apologized amply for the delay; and we sat ourselves down with patience to await the

During the four hours that we were kept waiting we were harbored on board a small steamer; and at about

eleven the terribly harsh whistle that is made by the Mississippi boats informed us that the regiment was

arriving. It came up to the quay in two steamers750 being brought in that which was to take us back, and

250 in a smaller one. The moon was very bright, and great flaming torches were lit on the vessel's side, so

that all the operations of the men were visible. The two steamers had run close up, thrusting us away from the

quay in their passage, but doing it so gently that we did not even feel the motion. These large boatsand

their size may be understood from the fact that one of them had just brought down 750 menare moved so

easily and so gently that they come gliding in among each other without hesitation and without pause. On

English waters we do not willingly run ships against each other; and when we do so unwillingly, they bump

and crush and crash upon each other, and timbers fly while men are swearing. But here there was neither

crashing nor swearing; and the boats noiselessly pressed against each other as though they were cased in

I got out upon the quay and stood close by the plank, watching each man as he left the vessel and walked

across toward the railway. Those whom I had previously seen in tents were not equipped; but these men were

in uniform, and each bore his musket. Taking them altogether, they were as fine a set of men as I ever saw

collected. No man could doubt, on seeing them, that they bore on their countenances the signs of higher

breeding and better education than would be seen in a thousand men enlisted in England. I do not mean to

argue from this that Americans are better than English. I do not mean to argue here that they are even better

educated. My assertion goes to show that the men generally were taken from a higher level in the community

than that which fills our own ranks. It was a matter of regret to me, here and on many subsequent occasions,

to see men bound for three years to serve as common soldiers who were so manifestly fitted for a better and

more useful life. To me it is always a source of sorrow to see a man enlisted. I feel that the individual recruit

is doing badly with himself carrying himself, and the strength and intelligence which belong to him, to a

bad market. I know that there must be soldiers; but as to every separate soldier I regret that he should be one

of them. And the higher is the class from which such soldiers are drawn, the greater the intelligence of the

men so to be employed, the deeper with me is that feeling of regret. But this strikes one much less in an old

country than in a country that is new. In the old countries population is thick and food sometimes scarce. Men

can be spared; and any employment may be serviceable, even though that employment be in itself so

unproductive as that of fighting battles or preparing for them. But in the Western States of America every arm

that can guide a plow is of incalculable value. Minnesota was admitted as a State about three years before this

time, and its whole population is not much above 150,000. Of this number perhaps 40,000 may be working

men. And now this infant State, with its huge territory and scanty population, is called upon to send its heart's

And it has sent its heart's best blood. Forth they camefine, stalwart, wellgrown fellowslooking, to my

eye, as though they had as yet but faintly recognized the necessary severity of military discipline. To them

hitherto the war had seemed to be an arena on which each might do something for his country which that

country would recognize. To themselves as yetand to me also they were a band of heroes, to be reduced

by the compressing power of military discipline to the lower level, but more necessary position, of a regiment

of soldiers. Ah, me! how terrible to them has been the breaking up of that delusion! When a poor yokel in

England is enlisted with a shilling and a promise of unlimited beer and glory, one pities, and, if possible,

would save him. But with him the mode of life to which he goes may not be much inferior to that he leaves. It

may be that for him soldiering is the best trade possible in his circumstances. It may keep him from the hen

roosts, and perhaps from his neighbors' pantries; and discipline may be good for him. Population is thick with

us; and there are many whom it may be well to collect and make available under the strictest surveillance.

But of these men whom I saw entering on their career upon the banks of the Mississippi, many were fathers

of families, many were owners of lands, many were educated men capable of high aspirationsall were

serviceable members of their State. There were probably there not three or four of whom it would be well that

the State should be rid. As soldiers, fit or capable of being made fit for the duties they had undertaken, I could

find but one fault with them. Their average age was too high. There were men among them with grizzled

beards, and many who had counted thirty, thirtyfive, and forty years. They had, I believe, devoted

themselves with a true spirit of patriotism. No doubt each had some ulterior hope as to himself, as has every

mortal patriot. Regulus, when he returned hopeless to Carthage, trusted that some Horace would tell his story.

Each of these men from Minnesota looked probably forward to his reward; but the reward desired was of a

The first great misery to be endured by these regiments will be the military lesson of obedience which they

must learn before they can be of any service. It always seemed to me, when I came near them, that they had

not as yet recognized the necessary austerity of an officer's duty. Their idea of a captain was the stage idea of

a leader of dramatic bandittia man to be followed and obeyed as a leader, but to be obeyed with that free

and easy obedience which is accorded to the reigning chief of the forty thieves. "Waal, captain," I have heard

a private say to his officer, as he sat on one seat in a railway car, with his feet upon the back of another. And

the captain has looked as though he did not like it. The captain did not like it; but the poor private was being

fast carried to that destiny which he would like still less. From the first I have had faith in the Northern army;

but from the first I have felt that the suffering to be endured by these free and independent volunteers would

be very great. A man, to be available as a private soldier, must be compressed and belted in till he be a

As soon as the men had left the vessel we walked over the side of it and took possession. "I am afraid your

cabin won't be ready for a quarter of an hour," said the clerk. "Such a body of men as that will leave some dirt

after them." I assured him, of course, that our expectations under such circumstances were very limited, and

that I was fully aware that the boat and the boat's company were taken up with matters of greater moment

than the carriage of ordinary passengers. But to this he demurred altogether. "The regiments were very little

to them, but occasioned much trouble. Everything, however, should be square in fifteen minutes." At the

expiration of the time named the key of our stateroom was given to us, and we found the appurtenances as

From La Crosse to St. Paul the distance up the river is something over 200 miles; and from St. Paul down to

Dubuque in Iowa, to which we went on our return, the distance is 450 miles. We were, therefore, for a

considerable time on board these boatsmore so than such a journey may generally make necessary, as we

were delayed at first by the soldiers, and afterward by accidents, such as the breaking of a paddlewheel, and

other causes, to which navigation on the Upper Mississippi seems to be liable. On the whole, we slept on

board four nights, and lived on board as many days. I cannot say that the life was comfortable, though I do

not know that it could be made more so by any care on the part of the boat owners. My first complaint would

be against the great heat of the cabins. The Americans, as a rule, live in an atmosphere which is almost

unbearable by an Englishman. To this cause, I am convinced, is to be attributed their thin faces, their pale

skins, their unenergetic temperamentunenergetic as regards physical motionand their early old age. The

winters are long and cold in America, and mechanical ingenuity is far extended. These two facts together

have created a system of stoves, hotair pipes, steam chambers, and heating apparatus so extensive that, from

autumn till the end of spring, all inhabited rooms are filled with the atmosphere of a hot oven. An

Englishman fancies that he is to be baked, and for awhile finds it almost impossible to exist in the air

prepared for him. How the heat is engendered on board the river steamers I do not know, but it is engendered

to so great a degree that the sittingcabins are unendurable. The patient is therefore driven out at all hours

into the outside balconies of the boat, or on to the top rooffor it is a roof rather than a deck and there, as

he passes through the air at the rate of twenty miles an hour, finds himself chilled to the very bones. That is

my first complaint. But as the boats are made for Americans, and as Americans like hot air, I do not put it

forward with any idea that a change ought to be effected. My second complaint is equally unreasonable, and

is quite as incapable of a remedy as the first. Ninetenths of the travelers carry children with them. They are

not tourists engaged on pleasure excursions, but men and women intent on the business of life. They are

moving up and down looking for fortune and in search of new homes. Of course they carry with them all their

household goods. Do not let any critic say that I grudge these young travelers their right to locomotion.

Neither their right to locomotion is grudged by me, nor any of those privileges which are accorded in

America to the rising generation. The habits of their country and the choice of their parents give to them full

dominion over all hours and over all places, and it would ill become a foreigner to make such habits and such

choice a ground of serious complaint. But, nevertheless, the uncontrolled energies of twenty children round

one's legs do not convey comfort or happiness, when the passing events are producing noise and storm rather

than peace and sunshine. I must protest that American babies are an unhappy race. They eat and drink just as

they please; they are never punished; they are never banished, snubbed, and kept in the background as

children are kept with us, and yet they are wretched and uncomfortable. My heart has bled for them as I have

heard them squalling by the hour together in agonies of discontent and dyspepsia. Can it be, I wonder, that

children are happier when they are made to obey orders, and are sent to bed at six o'clock, than when allowed

to regulate their own conduct; that bread and milk are more favorable to laughter and soft, childish ways than

beefsteaks and pickles three times a day; that an occasional whipping, even, will conduce to rosy cheeks? It

is an idea which I should never dare to broach to an American mother; but I must confess that, after my

travels on the Western Continent, my opinions have a tendency in that direction. Beefsteaks and pickles

certainly produce smart little men and women. Let that be taken for granted. But rosy laughter and winning,

childish ways are, I fancy, the produce of bread and milk. But there was a third reason why traveling on these

boats was not so pleasant as I had expected. I could not get my fellowtravelers to talk to me. It must be

understood that our fellowtravelers were not generally of that class which we Englishmen, in our pride,

designate as gentlemen and ladies. They were people, as I have said, in search of new homes and new

fortunes. But I protest that as such they would have been, in those parts, much more agreeable as companions

to me than any gentlemen or any ladies, if only they would have talked to me. I do not accuse them of any

incivility. If addressed, they answered me. If application was made by me for any special information, trouble

was taken to give it me. But I found no aptitude, no wish for conversationnay, even a disinclination to

converse. In the Western States I do not think that I was ever addressed first by an American sitting next to

me at table. Indeed, I never held any conversation at a public table in the West. I have sat in the same room

with men for hours, and have not had a word spoken to me. I have done my very best to break through this

ice, and have always failed. A Western American man is not a talking man. He will sit for hours over a stove,

with a cigar in his mouth and his hat over his eyes, chewing the cud of reflection. A dozen will sit together in

the same way, and there shall not be a dozen words spoken between them in an hour. With the women one's

chance of conversation is still worse. It seemed as though the cares of the world had been too much for them,

and that all talking excepting as to businessdemands, for instance, on the servants for pickles for their

childrenhad gone by the board. They were generally hard, dry, and melancholy. I am speaking, of course,

of aged femalesfrom five and twenty, perhaps, to thirtywho had long since given up the amusements

and levities of life. I very soon abandoned any attempt at drawing a word from these ancient mothers of

families; but not the less did I ponder in my mind over the circumstances of their lives. Had things gone with

them so sadlywas the struggle for independence so hardthat all the softness of existence had been

trodden out of them? In the cities, too, it was much the same. It seemed to me that a future mother of a

family, in those parts, had left all laughter behind her when she put out her finger for the wedding ring.

For these reasons I must say that life on board these steamboats was not as pleasant as I had hoped to find it;

but for our discomfort in this respect we found great atonement in the scenery through which we passed. I

protest that of all the river scenery that I know that of the Upper Mississippi is by far the finest and the most

continued. One thinks, of course, of the Rhine; but, according to my idea of beauty, the Rhine is nothing to

the Upper Mississippi. For miles upon milesfor hundreds of milesthe course of the river runs through

low hills, which are there called bluffs. These bluffs rise in every imaginable form, looking sometimes like

large, straggling, unwieldy castles, and then throwing themselves into sloping lawns which stretch back away

from the river till the eye is lost in their twists and turnings. Landscape beauty, as I take it, consists mainly in

four attributes in water; in broken land; in scattered timber, timber scattered as opposed to continuous

forest timber; and in the accident of color. In all these particulars the banks of the Upper Mississippi can

hardly be beaten. There are no high mountains; but high mountains themselves are grand rather than

beautiful. There are no high mountains; but there is a succession of hills, which group themselves forever

without monotony. It is, perhaps, the ever variegated forms of these bluffs which chiefly constitute the

wonderful loveliness of this river. The idea constantly occurs that some point on every hillside would form

the most charming site ever yet chosen for a noble residence. I have passed up and down rivers clothed to the

edge with continuous forest. This at first is grand enough, but the eye and feeling soon become weary. Here

the trees are scattered so that the eye passes through them, and ever and again a long lawn sweeps back into

the country and up the steep side of a hill, making the traveler long to stay there and linger through the oaks,

and climb the bluffs, and lay about on the bold but easy summits. The boat, however, steams quickly up

against the current, and the happy valleys are left behind one quickly after another. The river is very various

in its breadth, and is constantly divided by islands. It is never so broad that the beauty of the banks is lost in

the distance or injured by it. It is rapid, but has not the beautifully bright color of some European riversof

the Rhine, for instance, and the Rhone. But what is wanting in the color of the water is more than

compensated by the wonderful hues and luster of the shores. We visited the river in October, and I must

presume that they who seek it solely for the sake of scenery should go there in that month. It was not only

that the foliage of the trees was bright with every imaginable color, but that the grass was bronzed and that

the rocks were golden. And this beauty did not last only for awhile, and then cease. On the Rhine there are

lovely spots and special morsels of scenery with which the traveler becomes duly enraptured. But on the

Upper Mississippi there are no special morsels. The position of the sun in the heavens will, as it always does,

make much difference in the degree of beauty. The hour before and the half hour after sunset are always the

loveliest for such scenes. But of the shores themselves one may declare that they are lovely throughout those

About half way between La Crosse and St. Paul we came upon Lake Pepin, and continued our course up the

lake for perhaps fifty or sixty miles. This expanse of water is narrow for a lake, and, by those who know the

lower courses of great rivers, would hardly be dignified by that name. But, nevertheless, the breadth here

lessens the beauty. There are the same bluffs, the same scattered woodlands, and the same colors. But they

are either at a distance, or else they are to be seen on one side only. The more that I see of the beauty of

scenery, and the more I consider its elements, the stronger becomes my conviction that size has but little to do

with it, and rather detracts from it than adds to it. Distance gives one of its greatest charms, but it does so by

concealing rather than displaying an expanse of surface. The beauty of distance arises from the romance, the

feeling of mystery which it creates. It is like the beauty of woman, which allures the more the more that it is

vailed. But open, uncovered land and water, mountains which simply rise to great heights, with long,

unbroken slopes, wide expanses of lake, and forests which are monotonous in their continued thickness, are

never lovely to me. A landscape should always be partly vailed, and display only half its charms.

To my taste the finest stretch of the river was that immediately above Lake Pepin; but then, at this point, we

had all the glory of the setting sun. It was like fairyland, so bright were the golden hues, so fantastic were

the shapes of the hills, so broken and twisted the course of the waters! But the noisy steamer went groaning

up the narrow passages with almost unabated speed, and left the fairy land behind all too quickly. Then the

bell would ring for tea, and the children with the beefsteaks, the pickled onions, and the light fixings would

all come over again. The care laden mothers would tuck the bibs under the chins of their tyrant children, and

some embryo senator of four years old would listen with concentrated attention while the negro servant

recapitulated to him the delicacies of the suppertable, in order that he might make his choice with due

consideration. "Beefsteak," the embryo fouryear old senator would lisp, "and stewed potato, and buttered

St. Paul enjoys the double privilege of being the commercial and political capital of Minnesota. The same is

the case with Boston, in Massachusetts, but I do not remember another instance in which it is so. It is built on

the eastern bank of the Mississippi, though the bulk of the State lies to the west of the river. It is noticeable as

the spot up to which the river is navigable. Immediately above St. Paul there are narrow rapids up which no

boat can pass. North of this continuous navigation does not go; but from St. Paul down to New Orleans and

the Gulf of Mexico it is uninterrupted. The distance to St. Louis in Missouri, a town built below the

confluence of the three rivers, Mississippi, Missouri, and Illinois, is 900 miles and then the navigable waters

down to the Gulf wash a southern country of still greater extent. No river on the face of the globe forms a

highway for the produce of so wide an extent of agricultural land. The Mississippi, with its tributaries, carried

to market, before the war, the produce of Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky,

Tennessee, Missouri, Kansas, Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana. This country is larger than England,

Ireland, Scotland, Holland, Belgium, France, Germany, and Spain together, and is undoubtedly composed of

much more fertile land. The States named comprise the great center valley of the continent, and are the

farming lands and garden grounds of the Western World. He who has not seen corn on the ground in Illinois

or Minnesota, does not know to what extent the fertility of land may go, or how great may be the weight of

cereal crops. And for all this the Mississippi was the highroad to market. When the crop of 1861 was

garnered, this highroad was stopped by the war. What suffering this entailed on the South I will not here

stop to say, but on the West the effect was terrible. Corn was in such plentyIndiancorn, that is, or

maizethat it was not worth the farmer's while to prepare it for market. When I was in Illinois, the second

quality of Indiancorn, when shelled, was not worth more than from eight to ten cents a bushel. But the

shelling and preparation is laborious, and in some instances it was found better to burn it for fuel than to sell

it. Respecting the export of corn from the West, I must say a further word or two in the next chapter; but it

seemed to be indispensable that I should point out here how great to the United States is the need of the

Mississippi. Nor is it for corn and wheat only that its waters are needed. Timber, lead, iron, coal, porkall

find, or should find, their exit to the world at large by this road. There are towns on it, and on its tributaries,

already holding more than one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. The number of Cincinnati exceeds

that, as also does the number of St. Louis. Under these circumstances it is not wonderful that the States

It is not wonderful. But it will not, I think, be admitted by the politicians of the world that the navigation of

the Mississippi need be closed against the West, even though the Southern States should succeed in raising

themselves to the power and dignity of a separate nationality. If the waters of the Danube be not open to

Austria, it is through the fault of Austria. That the subject will be one of trouble, no man can doubt; and of

course it would be well for the North to avoid that, or any other trouble. In the mean time the importance of

this right of way must be admitted; and it must be admitted, also, that whatever may be the ultimate resolve

of the North, it will be very difficult to reconcile the West to a divided dominion of the Mississippi.

St. Paul contains about 14,000 inhabitants, and, like all other American towns, is spread over a surface of

ground adapted to the accommodation of a very extended population. As it is belted on one side by the river,

and on the other by the bluffs which accompany the course of the river, the site is pretty, and almost

romantic. Here also we found a great hotel, a huge, square building, such as we in England might perhaps

place near to a railway terminus in such a city as Glasgow or Manchester, but on which no living Englishman

would expend his money in a town even five times as big again as St. Paul. Everything was sufficiently good,

and much more than sufficiently plentiful. The whole thing went on exactly as hotels do down in

Massachusetts or the State of New York. Look at the map and see where St. Paul is. Its distance from all

known civilizationall civilization that has succeeded in obtaining acquaintance with the world at largeis

very great. Even American travelers do not go up there in great numbers, excepting those who intend to settle

there. A stray sportsman or two, American or English, as the case may be, makes his way into Minnesota for

the sake of shooting, and pushes on up through St. Paul to the Red River. Some few adventurous spirits visit

the Indian settlements, and pass over into the unsettled regions of Dacotah and Washington Territory. But

there is no throng of traveling. Nevertheless, a hotel has been built there capable of holding three hundred

guests, and other hotels exist in the neighborhood, one of which is even larger than that at St. Paul. Who can

come to them, and create even a hope that such an enterprise may be remunerative? In America it is seldom

When I was there the war was in hand, and it was hardly to be expected that any hotel should succeed. The

landlord told me that he held it at the present time for a very low rent, and that he could just manage to keep it

open without loss. The war which hindered people from traveling, and in that way injured the innkeepers,

also hindered people from housekeeping, and reduced them to the necessity of boarding out, by which the

innkeepers were of course benefited. At St. Paul I found that the majority of the guests were inhabitants of the

town, boarding at the hotel, and thus dispensing with the cares of a separate establishment. I do not know

what was charged for such accommodation at St. Paul, but I have come across large houses at which a single

man could get all that he required for a dollar a day. Now Americans are great consumers, especially at

hotels, and all that a man requires includes three hot meals, with a choice from about two dozen dishes at

From St. Paul there are two waterfalls to be seen, which we, of course, visited. We crossed the river at Fort

Snelling, a rickety, illconditioned building standing at the confluence of the Minnesota and Mississippi

Rivers, built there to repress the Indians. It is, I take it, very necessary, especially at the present moment, as

the Indians seem to require repressing. They have learned that the attention of the Federal government has

been called to the war, and have become bold in consequence. When I was at St. Paul I heard of a party of

Englishmen who had been robbed of everything they possessed, and was informed that the farmers in the

distant parts of the State were by no means secure. The Indians are more to be pitied than the farmers. They

are turning against enemies who will neither forgive nor forget any injuries done. When the war is over they

will be improved, and polished, and annexed, till no Indian will hold an acre of land in Minnesota. At present

Fort Snelling is the nucleus of a recruiting camp. On the point between the bluffs of the two rivers there is a

plain, immediately in front of the fort, and there we saw the newlyjoined Minnesota recruits going through

their first military exercises. They were in detachments of twenties, and were rude enough at their goose step.

The matter which struck me most in looking at them was the difference of condition which I observed in the

men. There were the country lads, fresh from the farms, such as we see following the recruiting sergeant

through English towns; but there were also men in black coats and black trowsers, with thin boots, and

trimmed beardsbeards which had been trimmed till very lately; and some of them with beards which

showed that they were no longer young. It was inexpressibly melancholy to see such men as these twisting

and turning about at the corporal's word, each handling some stick in his hand in lieu of weapon. Of course,

they were more awkward than the boys, even though they were twice more assiduous in their efforts. Of

course, they were sad and wretched. I saw men there that were very wretchedall but heartbroken, if one

might judge from their faces. They should not have been there handling sticks, and moving their

unaccustomed legs in cramped paces. They were as razors, for which no better purpose could be found than

the cutting of blocks. When such attempts are made the block is not cut, but the razor is spoiled. Most unfit

for the commencement of a soldier's life were some that I saw there, but I do not doubt that they had been

attracted to the work by the one idea of doing something for their country in its trouble.

From Fort Snelling we went on to the Falls of Minnehaha. Minnehaha, laughing water. Such, I believe, is the

interpretation. The name in this case is more imposing than the fall. It is a pretty little cascade, and might do

for a picnic in fine weather, but it is not a waterfall of which a man can make much when found so far away

from home. Going on from Minnehaha we came to Minneapolis, at which place there is a fine suspension

bridge across the river, just above the falls of St. Anthony and leading to the town of that name. Till I got

there I could hardly believe that in these days there should be a living village called Minneapolis by living

men. I presume I should describe it as a town, for it has a municipality, and a postoffice, and, of course, a

large hotel. The interest of the place, however, is in the saw mills. On the opposite side of the water, at St.

Anthony, is another very large hoteland also a smaller one. The smaller one may be about the size of the

firstclass hotels at Cheltenham or Leamington. They were both closed, and there seemed to be but little

prospect that either would be opened till the war should be over. The sawmills, however, were at full work,

and to my eyes were extremely picturesque. I had been told that the beauty of the falls had been destroyed by

the mills. Indeed, all who had spoken to me about St. Anthony had said so. But I did not agree with them.

Here, as at Ottawa, the charm in fact consists, not in an uninterrupted shoot of water, but in a succession of

rapids over a bed of broken rocks. Among these rocks logs of loose timber are caught, which have escaped

from their proper courses, and here they lie, heaped up in some places, and constructing themselves into

bridges in others, till the freshets of the spring carry them off. The timber is generally brought down in logs to

St. Anthony, is sawn there, and then sent down the Mississippi in large rafts. These rafts on other rivers are, I

think, generally made of unsawn timber. Such logs as have escaped in the manner above described are

recognized on their passage down the river by their marks, and are made up separately, the original owners

receiving the valueor not receiving it as the case may be. "There is quite a trade going on with the loose

lumber," my informant told me. And from his tone I was led to suppose that he regarded the trade as

There is very much in the mode of life adopted by the settlers in these regions which creates admiration. The

people are all intelligent. They are energetic and speculative, conceiving grand ideas, and carrying them out

almost with the rapidity of magic. A suspension bridge half a mile long is erected, while in England we

should be fastening together a few planks for a foot passage. Progress, mental as well as material, is the

demand of the people generally. Everybody understands everything, and everybody intends sooner or later to

do everything. All this is very grand; but then there is a terrible drawback. One hears on every side of

intelligence, but one hears also on every side of dishonesty. Talk to whom you will, of whom you will, and

you will hear some tale of successful or unsuccessful swindling. It seems to be the recognized rule of

commerce in the far West that men shall go into the world's markets prepared to cheat and to be cheated. It

may be said that as long as this is acknowledged and understood on all sides, no harm will be done. It is

equally fair for all. When I was a child there used to be certain games at which it was agreed in beginning

either that there should be cheating or that there should not. It may be said that out there in the Western

States, men agree to play the cheating game; and that the cheating game has more of interest in it than the

other. Unfortunately, however, they who agree to play this game on a large scale do not keep outsiders

altogether out of the playground. Indeed, outsiders become very welcome to them; and then it is not pleasant

to hear the tone in which such outsiders speak of the peculiarities of the sport to which they have been

introduced. When a beginner in trade finds himself furnished with a barrel of wooden nutmegs, the joke is not

so good to him as to the experienced merchant who supplies him. This dealing in wooden nutmegs, this

selling of things which do not exist, and buying of goods for which no price is ever to be given, is an

institution which is much honored in the West. We call it swindlingand so do they. But it seemed to me

that in the Western States the word hardly seemed to leave the same impress on the mind that it does

On our return down the river we passed La Crosse, at which we had embarked, and went down as far as

Dubuque in Iowa. On our way down we came to grief and broke one of our paddlewheels to pieces. We had

no special accident. We struck against nothing above or below water. But the wheel went to pieces, and we

laid to on the river side for the greater part of a day while the necessary repairs were being made. Delay in

traveling is usually an annoyance, because it causes the unsettlement of a settled purpose. But the loss of the

day did us no harm, and our accident had happened at a very pretty spot. I climbed up to the top of the nearest

bluff, and walked back till I came to the open country, and also went up and down the river banks, visiting

the cabins of two settlers who live there by supplying wood to the river steamers. One of these was close to

the spot at which we were lying; and yet though most of our passengers came on shore, I was the only one

who spoke to the inmates of the cabin. These people must live there almost in desolation from one year's end

to another. Once in a fortnight or so they go up to a market town in their small boats, but beyond that they

can have little intercourse with their fellowcreatures. Nevertheless none of these dwellers by the river side

came out to speak to the men and women who were lounging about from eleven in the morning till four in the

afternoon; nor did one of the passengers, except myself, knock at the door or enter the cabin, or exchange a

I spoke to the master of the house, whom I met outside, and he at once asked me to come in and sit down. I

found his father there and his mother, his wife, his brother, and two young children. The wife, who was

cooking, was a very pretty, pale young woman, who, however, could have circulated round her stove more

conveniently had her crinoline been of less dimensions. She bade me welcome very prettily, and went on with

her cooking, talking the while, as though she were in the habit of entertaining guests in that way daily. The

old woman sat in a corner knittingas old women always do. The old man lounged with a grandchild on his

knee, and the master of the house threw himself on the floor while the other child crawled over him. There

was no stiffness or uneasiness in their manners, nor was there anything approaching to that republican

roughness which so often operates upon a poor, well intending Englishman like a slap on the cheek. I sat

there for about an hour, and when I had discussed with them English politics and the bearing of English

politics upon the American war, they told me of their own affairs. Food was very plenty, but life was very

hard. Take the year through, each man could not earn above half a dollar a day by cutting wood. This,

however, they owned, did not take up all their time. Working on favorable wood on favorable days they could

each earn two dollars a day; but these favorable circumstances did not come together very often. They did not

deal with the boats themselves, and the profits were eaten up by the middleman. He, the middleman, had a

good thing of it, because he could cheat the captains of the boats in the measurement of the wood. The

chopper was obliged to supply a genuine cord of logstrue measure. But the man who took it off in the

barge to the steamer could so pack it that fifteen true cords would make twentytwo false cords. "It cuts up

into a fine trade, you see, sir," said the young man, as he stroked back the little girl's hair from her forehead.

"But the captains of course must find it out," said I. This he acknowledged, but argued that the captains on

this account insisted on buying the wood so much cheaper, and that the loss all came upon the chopper. I tried

to teach him that the remedy lay in his own hands, and the three men listened to me quite patiently while I

explained to them how they should carry on their own trade. But the young father had the last word. "I guess

we don't get above the fifty cents a day any way." He knew at least where the shoe pinched him. He was a

handsome, manly, noble looking fellow, tall and thin, with black hair and bright eyes. But he had the hollow

look about his jaws, and so had his wife, and so had his brother. They all owned to fever and ague. They had

a touch of it most years, and sometimes pretty sharply. "It was a coarse place to live in," the old woman said,

"but there was no one to meddle with them, and she guessed that it suited." They had books and newspapers,

tidy delf, and clean glass upon their shelves, and undoubtedly provisions in plenty. Whether fever and ague

yearly, and cords of wood stretched from fifteen to twentytwo are more than a setoff for these good things,

In another cabin I found women and children only, and one of the children was in the last stage of illness. But

nevertheless the woman of the house seemed glad to see me, and talked cheerfully as long as I would remain.

She inquired what had happened to the vessel, but it had never occurred to her to go out and see. Her cabin

was neat and well furnished, and there also I saw newspapers and Harper's everlasting magazine. She said it

was a coarse, desolate place for living, but that she could raise almost anything in her garden.

I could not then understand, nor can I now understand, why none of the numerous passengers out of the boat

should have entered those cabins except myself, and why the inmates of the cabins should not have come out

to speak to any one. Had they been surly, morose people, made silent by the specialties of their life, it would

have been explicable; but they were delighted to talk and to listen. The fact, I take it, is that the people are all

harsh to each other. They do not care to go out of their way to speak to any one unless something is to be

gained. They say that two Englishmen meeting in the desert would not speak unless they were introduced.

The farther I travel the less true do I find this of Englishmen, and the more true of other people.

We stopped at the Julien House, Dubuque. Dubuque is a city in Iowa, on the western shore of the Mississippi,

and as the names both of the town and of the hotel sounded French in my ears, I asked for an explanation. I

was then told that Julien Dubuque, a Canadian Frenchman, had been buried on one of the bluffs of the river

within the precincts of the present town; that he had been the first white settler in Iowa, and had been the only

man who had ever prevailed upon the Indians to work. Among them he had become a great "Medicine," and

seems for awhile to have had absolute power over them. He died, I think, in 1800, and was buried on one of

the hills over the river. "He was a bold, bad man," my informant told me, "and committed every sin under

Lead mines are the glory of Dubuque, and very large sums of money have been made from them. I was taken

out to see one of them, and to go down it; but we found, not altogether to my sorrow, that the works had been

stopped on account of the water. No effort has been made in any of these mines to subdue the water, nor has

steam been applied to the working of them. The lodes have been so rich with lead that the speculators have

been content to take out the metal that was easily reached, and to go off in search of fresh ground when

disturbed by water. "And are wages here paid pretty punctually?" I asked. "Well, a man has to be smart, you

know." And then my friend went on to acknowledge that it would be better for the country if smartness were

Iowa has a population of 674,000 souls, and in October, 1861, had already mustered eighteen regiments of

one thousand men each. Such a population would give probably 170,000 men capable of bearing arms, and

therefore the number of soldiers sent had already amounted to more than a decimation of the available

strength of the State. When we were at Dubuque, nothing was talked of but the army. It seemed that mines,

coalpits, and cornfields were all of no account in comparison with the war. How many regiments could be

squeezed out of the State, was the one question which filled all minds; and the general desire was that such

regiments should be sent to the Western army, to swell the triumph which was still expected for General

Fremont, and to assist in sweeping slavery out into the Gulf of Mexico. The patriotism of the West has been

quite as keen as that of the North, and has produced results as memorable; but it has sprung from a different

source, and been conducted and animated by a different sentiment. National greatness and support of the law

have been the idea of the North; national greatness and abolition of slavery have been those of the West. How

they are to agree as to terms when between them they have crushed the Souththat is the difficulty.

At Dubuque in Iowa, I ate the best apple that I ever encountered. I make that statement with the purpose of

doing justice to the Americans on a matter which is to them one of considerable importance. Americans, as

rule, do not believe in English apples. They declare that there are none, and receive accounts of Devonshire

cider with manifest incredulity. "But at any rate there are no apples in England equal to ours." That is an

assertion to which an Englishman is called upon to give an absolute assent; and I hereby give it. Apples so

excellent as some which were given to us at Dubuque I have never eaten in England. There is a great jealousy

respecting all the fruits of the earth. "Your peaches are fine to look at," was said to me, "but they have no

flavor." This was the assertion of a lady, and I made no answer. My idea had been that American peaches had

no flavor; that French peaches had none; that those of Italy had none; that little as there might be of which

England could boast with truth, she might at any rate boast of her peaches without fear of contradiction.

Indeed, my idea had been that good peaches were to be got in England only. I am beginning to doubt whether

my belief on the matter has not been the product of insular ignorance and idolatrous selfworship. It may be

that a peach should be a combination of an apple and a turnip. "My great objection to your country, sir," said

another, "is that you have got no vegetables." Had he told me that we had got no seaboard, or no coals, he

would not have surprised me more. No vegetables in England! I could not restrain myself altogether, and

replied by a confession "that we 'raised' no squash." Squash is the pulp of the pumpkin, and is much used in

the States, both as a vegetable and for pies. No vegetables in England! Did my surprise arise from the insular

ignorance and idolatrous self worship of a Britisher, or was my American friend laboring under a delusion?

Is Covent Garden well supplied with vegetables, or is it not? Do we cultivate our kitchengardens with

success, or am I under a delusion on that subject? Do I dream, or is it true that out of my own little patches at

home I have enough, for all domestic purposes, of peas, beans, broccoli, cauliflower, celery, beetroot,

onions, carrots, parsnips, turnips, seakale, asparagus, French beans, artichokes, vegetable marrow,

cucumbers, tomatoes, endive, lettuce, as well as herbs of many kinds, cabbages throughout the year, and

potatoes? No vegetables! Had the gentleman told me that England did not suit him because we had nothing

From Dubuque, on the western shore of the river, we passed over to Dunleath, in Illinois, and went on from

thence by railway to Dixon. I was induced to visit this not very flourishing town by a desire to see the rolling

prairie of Illinois, and to learn by eyesight something of the crops of corn or Indian maize which are produced

upon the land. Had that gentleman told me that we knew nothing of producing corn in England, he would

have been nearer the mark; for of corn, in the profusion in which it is grown here, we do not know much.

Better land than the prairies of Illinois for cereal crops the world's surface probably cannot show. And here

there has been no necessity for the long previous labor of banishing the forest. Enormous prairies stretch

across the State, into which the plow can be put at once. The earth is rich with the vegetation of thousands of

years, and the farmer's return is given to him without delay. The land bursts with its own produce, and the

plenty is such that it creates wasteful carelessness in the gathering of the crop. It is not worth a man's while to

handle less than large quantities. Up in Minnesota I had been grieved by the loose manner in which wheat

was treated. I have seen bags of it upset and left upon the ground. The labor of collecting it was more than it

was worth. There wheat is the chief crop, and as the lands become cleared and cultivation spreads itself, the

amount coming down the Mississippi will be increased almost to infinity. The price of wheat in Europe will

soon depend, not upon the value of the wheat in the country which grows it, but on the power and cheapness

of the modes which may exist for transporting it. I have not been able to obtain the exact prices with

reference to the carriage of wheat from St. Paul (the capital of Minnesota) to Liverpool, but I have done so as

regards Indiancorn from the State of Illinois. The following statement will show what proportion the value

of the article at the place of its growth bears to the cost of the carriage; and it shows also how enormous an

effect on the price of corn in England would follow any serious decrease in the cost of carriage:

A bushel of Indiancorn at Bloomington, in Illinois, cost, in October, 1861 10 cents. Freight to Chicago 10 "

Storage 2 " Freight from Chicago to Buffalo 22 " Elevating, and canal freight to New York 19 " Transfer in

New York and insurance 3 " Ocean freight 23 " Cost of a bushel of Indiancorn at Liverpool 89

Thus corn which in Liverpool costs 3s. l0d. has been sold by the farmer who produced it for 5d.! It is

probable that no great reduction can be expected in the cost of ocean transit; but it will be seen by the above

figures that out of the Liverpool price of 3s. l0d., or 89 cents, considerably more than half is paid for carriage

across the United States. All or nearly all this transit is by water; and there can, I think, be no doubt but that a

few years will see it reduced by fifty per cent. In October last the Mississippi was closed, the railways had not

rolling stock sufficient for their work, the crops of the two last years had been excessive, and there existed the

necessity of sending out the corn before the internal navigation had been closed by frost. The parties who had

the transit in their hands put their heads together, and were able to demand any prices that they pleased. It

will be seen that the cost of carrying a bushel of corn from Chicago to Buffalo, by the lakes, was within one

cent of the cost of bringing it from New York to Liverpool. These temporary causes for high prices of transit

will cease; a more perfect system of competition between the railways and the water transit will be organized;

and the result must necessarily be both an increase of price to the producer and a decrease of price to the

consumer. It certainly seems that the produce of cereal crops in the valleys of the Mississippi and its

tributaries increases at a faster rate than population increases. Wheat and corn are sown by the thousand acres

in a piece. I heard of one farmer who had 10,000 acres of corn. Thirty years ago grain and flour were sent

Westward out of the State of New York to supply the wants of those who had immigrated into the prairies;

and now we find that it will be the destiny of those prairies to feed the universe. Chicago is the main point of

exportation Northwestward from Illinois, and at the present time sends out from its granaries more cereal

produce than any other town in the world. The bulk of this passes, in the shape of grain or flour, from

Chicago to Buffalo, which latter place is, as it were, a gateway leading from the lakes, or big waters, to the

canals, or small waters. I give below the amount of grain and flour in bushels received into Buffalo for transit

October, 1858 4,429,055 bushels. " 1859 5,523,448 " " 1860 6,500,864 " " 1861 12,483,797 "

In 1860, from the opening to the close of navigation, 30,837,632 bushels of grain and flour passed through

Buffalo. In 1861, the amount received up to the 31st of October was 51,969,142 bushels. As the navigation

would be closed during the month of November, the above figures may be taken as representing not quite the

whole amount transported for the year. It may be presumed the 52,000,000 of bushels, as quoted above, will

swell itself to 60,000,000. I confess that to my own mind statistical amounts do not bring home any enduring

idea. Fifty million bushels of corn and flour simply seems to mean a great deal. It is a powerful form of

superlative, and soon vanishes away, as do other superlatives in this age of strong words. I was at Chicago

and at Buffalo in October, 1861. I went down to the granaries and climbed up into the elevators. I saw the

wheat running in rivers from one vessel into another, and from the railroad vans up into the huge bins on the

top stores of the warehousesfor these rivers of food run up hill as easily as they do down. I saw the corn

measured by the fortybushel measure with as much ease as we measure an ounce of cheese and with greater

rapidity. I ascertained that the work went on, week day and Sunday, day and night, incessantlyrivers of

wheat and rivers of maize ever running. I saw the men bathed in corn as they distributed it in its flow. I saw

bins by the score laden with wheat, in each of which bins there was space for a comfortable residence. I

breathed the flour and drank the flour, and felt myself to be enveloped in a world of breadstuff. And then I

believed, understood, and brought it home to myself as a fact that here in the cornlands of Michigan, and

amid the bluffs of Wisconsin, and on the high table plains of Minnesota, and the prairies of Illinois had God

prepared the food for the increasing millions of the Eastern World, as also for the coming millions of the

I do not find many minds constituted like my own, and therefore I venture to publish the above figures. I

believe them to be true in the main; and they will show, if credited, that the increase during the last four years

has gone on with more than fabulous rapidity. For myself, I own that those figures would have done nothing

unless I had visited the spot myself. A man can not, perhaps count up the results of such a work by a quick

glance of his eye, nor communicate with precision to another the conviction which his own short experience

has made so strong within himself; but to himself seeing is believing. To me it was so at Chicago and at

Buffalo. I began then to know what it was for a country to overflow with milk and honey, to burst with its

own fruits and be smothered by its own riches. From St. Paul down the Mississippi, by the shores of

Wisconsin and Iowa; by the ports on Lake Pepin; by La Crosse, from which one railway runs Eastward; by

Prairie du Chien, the terminus of a second; by Dunleath, Fulton, and Rock Island, from whence three other

lines run Eastward; all through that wonderful State of Illinois, the farmer's glory; along the ports of the Great

Lakes; through Michigan, Indiana, Ohio, and further Pennsylvania, up to Buffalo? the great gate of the

Western Ceres, the loud cry was this: "How shall we rid ourselves of our corn and wheat?" The result has

been the passage of 60,000,000 bushels of breadstuffs through that gate in one year! Let those who are

susceptible of statistics ponder that. For them who are not I can only give this advice: Let them go to Buffalo

In regarding the above figures, and the increase shown between the years 1860 and 1861, it must of course be

borne in mind that, during the latter autumn, no corn or wheat was carried into the Southern States, and that

none was exported from New Orleans or the mouth of the Mississippi. The States of Mississippi, Alabama,

and Louisiana have for some time past received much of their supplies from the Northwestern lands; and the

cutting off of this current of consumption has tended to swell the amount of grain which has been forced into

the narrow channel of Buffalo. There has been no Southern exit allowed, and the Southern appetite has been

deprived of its food. But taking this item for all that it is worthor taking it, as it generally will be taken, for

much more than it can be worththe result left will be materially the same. The grand markets to which the

Western States look and have looked are those of New England, New York, and Europe. Already corn and

wheat are not the common crops of New England. Boston, and Hartford, and Lowell are fed from the great

Western States. The State of New York, which, thirty years ago, was famous chiefly for its cereal produce, is

now fed from these States. New York City would be starved if it depended on its own State; and it will soon

be as true that England would be starved if it depended on itself. It was but the other day that we were talking

of free trade in corn as a thing desirable, but as yet doubtfulbut the other day that Lord Derby, who may be

Prime Minister tomorrow, and Mr. Disraeli, who may be Chancellor of the Exchequer tomorrow, were

stoutly of opinion that the corn laws might be and should be maintainedbut the other day that the same

opinion was held with confidence by Sir Robert Peel, who, however, when the day for the change came, was

not ashamed to become the instrument used by the people for their repeal. Events in these days march so

quickly that they leave men behind; and our dear old Protectionists at home will have grown sleek upon

American flour before they have realized the fact that they are no longer fed from their own furrows.

I have given figures merely as regards the trade of Buffalo; but it must not be presumed that Buffalo is the

only outlet from the great cornlands of Northern America. In the first place, no grain of the produce of

Canada finds its way to Buffalo. Its exit is by the St. Lawrence or by the Grand Trunk Railway as I have

stated when speaking of Canada. And then there is the passage for large vessels from the upper lakesLake

Michigan, Lake Huron, and Lake Eriethrough the Welland Canal, into Lake Ontario, and out by the St.

Lawrence. There is also the direct communication from Lake Erie, by the New York and Erie Railway to

New York. I have more especially alluded to the trade of Buffalo, because I have been enabled to obtain a

reliable return of the quantity of grain and flour which passes through that town, and because Buffalo and

Chicago are the two spots which are becoming most famous in the cereal history of the Western States.

Everybody has a map of North America. A reference to such a map will show the peculiar position of

Chicago. It is at the south or head of Lake Michigan, and to it converge railways from Wisconsin, Iowa,

Illinois, and Indiana. At Chicago is found the nearest water carriage which can be obtained for the produce of

a large portion of these States. From Chicago there is direct water conveyance round through the lakes to

Buffalo, at the foot of Lake Erie. At Milwaukee, higher up on the lake, certain lines of railway come in,

joining the lake to the Upper Mississippi, and to the wheatlands of Minnesota. Thence the passage is round

by Detroit, which is the port for the produce of the greatest part of Michigan, and still it all goes on toward

Buffalo. Then on Lake Erie there are the ports of Toledo, Cleveland, and Erie. At the bottom of Lake Erie

there is this city of corn, at which the grain and flour are transhipped into the canalboats and into the railway

cars for New York; and there is also the Welland Canal, through which large vessels pass from the upper

I have said above that cornmeaning maize or Indiancornwas to be bought at Bloomington, in Illinois,

for ten cents (or five pence) a bushel. I found this also to be the case at Dixon, and also that corn of inferior

quality might be bought for four pence; but I found also that it was not worth the farmer's while to shell it and

sell it at such prices. I was assured that farmers were burning their Indiancorn in some places, finding it

more available to them as fuel than it was for the market. The labor of detaching a bushel of corn from the

hulls or cobs is considerable, as is also the task of carrying it to market. I have known potatoes in Ireland so

cheap that they would not pay for digging and carrying away for purposes of sale. There was then a glut of

potatoes in Ireland; and in the same way there was, in the autumn of 1861, a glut of corn in the Western

States. The best qualities would fetch a price, though still a low price; but corn that was not of the best quality

was all but worthless. It did for fuel, and was burned. The fact was that the produce had recreated itself

quicker than mankind had multiplied. The ingenuity of man had not worked quick enough for its disposal.

The earth had given forth her increase so abundantly that the lap of created humanity could not stretch itself

to hold it. At Dixon, in 1861, corn cost four pence a bushel. In Ireland, in 1848, it was sold for a penny a

pound, a pound being accounted sufficient to sustain life for a day; and we all felt that at that price food was

Dixon is not a town of much apparent prosperity. It is one of those places at which great beginnings have

been made, but as to which the deities presiding over new towns have not been propitious. Much of it has

been burned down, and more of it has never been built up. It had a straggling, illconditioned, uncommercial

aspect, very different from the look of Detroit, Milwaukee, or St. Paul. There was, however, a great hotel

there, as usual, and a grand bridge over the Rock River, a tributary of the Mississippi, which runs by or

through the town. I found that life might be maintained on very cheap terms at Dixon. To me, as a passing

traveler, the charges at the hotel were, I take it, the same as elsewhere. But I learned from an inmate there that

he, with his wife and horse, were fed and cared for and attended, for two dollars (or eight shillings and four

pence) a day. This included a private sittingroom, coals, light, and all the wants of lifeas my informant

told meexcept tobacco and whisky. Feeding at such a house means a succession of promiscuous hot meals,

as often as the digestion of the patient can face them. Now I do not know any locality where a man can keep

himself and his wife, with all material comforts and the luxury of a horse and carriage, on cheaper terms than

that. Whether or no it might be worth a man's while to live at all at such a place as Dixon, is altogether

We went there because it is surrounded by the prairie, and out into the prairie we had ourselves driven. We

found some difficulty in getting away from the corn, though we had selected this spot as one at which the

open rolling prairie was specially attainable. As long as I could see a cornfield or a tree I was not satisfied.

Nor, indeed, was I satisfied at last. To have been thoroughly on the prairie, and in the prairie, I should have

been a day's journey from tilled land. But I doubt whether that could now be done in the State of Illinois. I got

out into various patches and brought away specimens of cornears bearing sixteen rows of grain, with forty

At last we did find ourselves on the prairie, amid the waving grass, with the land rolling on before us in a

succession of gentle sweeps, never rising so as to impede the view, or apparently changing in its general

level, but yet without the monotony of flatness. We were on the prairie, but still I felt no satisfaction. It was

private property, divided among holders and pastured over by private cattle. Salisbury Plain is as wild, and

Dartmoor almost wilder. Deer, they told me, were to be had within reach of Dixon, but for the buffalo one

has to go much farther afield than Illinois. The farmer may rejoice in Illinois, but the hunter and the trapper

must cross the big rivers and pass away into the Western Territories before he can find lands wild enough for

his purposes. My visit to the cornfields of Illinois was in its way successful, but I felt, as I turned my face

eastward toward Chicago, that I had no right to boast that I had as yet made acquaintance with a prairie.

All minds were turned to the war, at Dixon as elsewhere. In Illinois the men boasted that, as regards the war,

they were the leading State of the union. But the same boast was made in Indiana, and also in Massachusetts,

and probably in half the States of the North and West. They, the Illinoisians, call their country the warnest

of the West. The population of the State is 1,700,000, and it had undertaken to furnish sixty volunteer

regiments of 1000 men each. And let it be borne in mind that these regiments, when furnished, are really

fullabsolutely containing the thousand men when they are sent away from the parent States. The number of

souls above named will give 420,000 working men, and if, out of these, 60,000 are sent to the war, the State,

which is almost purely agricultural, will have given more than one man in eight. When I was in Illinois, over

forty regiments had already been sentfortysix, if I remember rightlyand there existed no doubt

whatever as to the remaining number. From the next State, Indiana, with a population of 1,350,000, giving

something less than 350,000 working men, thirtysix regiments had been sent. I fear that I am mentioning

these numbers usque ad nauseam; but I wish to impress upon English readers the magnitude of the effort

made by the States in mustering and equipping an army within six or seven months of the first

acknowledgment that such an army would be necessary. The Americans have complained bitterly of the want

of English sympathy, and I think they have been weak in making that complaint. But I would not wish that

they should hereafter have the power of complaining of a want of English justice. There can be no doubt that

a genuine feeling of patriotism was aroused throughout the North and West, and that men rushed into the

ranks actuated by that feeling, men for whom war and army life, a camp and fifteen dollars a month; would

not of themselves have had any attraction. It came to that, that young men were ashamed not to go into the

army. This feeling of course produced coercion, and the movement was in that way tyrannical. There is

nothing more tyrannical than a strong popular feeling among a democratic people. During the period of

enlistment this tyranny was very strong. But the existence of such a tyranny proves the passion and patriotism

of the people. It got the better of the love of money, of the love of children, and of the love of progress.

Wives who with their bairns were absolutely dependent on their husbands' labors, would wish their husbands

to be at the war. Not to conduce, in some special way, toward the war; to have neither father there, nor

brother nor son; not to have lectured, or preached, or written for the war; to have made no sacrifice for the

war, to have had no special and individual interest in the war, was disgraceful. One sees at a glance the

tyranny of all this in such a country as the States. One can understand how quickly adverse stories would

spread themselves as to the opinion of any man who chose to remain tranquil at such a time. One shudders at

the absolute absence of true liberty which such a passion throughout a democratic country must engender.

But he who has observed all this must acknowledge that that passion did exist. Dollars, children, progress,

education, and political rivalry all gave way to the one strong national desire for the thrashing and crushing of

When we were at Dixon they were getting up the Dement regiment. The attempt at the time did not seem to

be prosperous, and the few men who had been collected had about them a forlorn, ill conditioned look. But

then, as I was told, Dixon had already been decimated and redecimated by former recruiting colonels.

Colonel Dement, from whom the regiment was to be named, and whose military career was only now about

to commence, had come late into the field. I did not afterward ascertain what had been his success, but I

hardly doubt that he did ultimately scrape together his thousand men. "Why don't you go?" I said to a burly

Irishman who was driving me. "I'm not a sound man, yer honor," said the Irishman; "I'm deficient in me

liver." Taking the Irishmen, however, throughout the Union, they had not been found deficient in any of the

necessaries for a career of war. I do not think that any men have done better than the Irish in the American

From Dixon we went to Chicago. Chicago is in many respects the most remarkable city among all the

remarkable cities of the Union. Its growth has been the fastest and its success the most assured. Twentyfive

years ago there was no Chicago, and now it contains 120,000 inhabitants. Cincinnati, on the Ohio, and St.

Louis, at the junction of the Missouri and Mississippi, are larger towns; but they have not grown large so

quickly nor do they now promise so excessive a development of commerce. Chicago may be called the

metropolis of American cornthe favorite city haunt of the American Ceres. The goddess seats herself there

amid the dust of her full barns, and proclaims herself a goddess ruling over things political and philosophical

as well as agricultural. Not furrows only are in her thoughts, but free trade also and brotherly love. And

within her own bosom there is a boast that even yet she will be stronger than Mars. In Chicago there are great

streets, and rows of houses fit to be the residences of a new CornExchange nobility. They look out on the

wide lake which is now the highway for breadstuffs, and the merchant, as he shaves at his window, sees his

I went over one great grain store in Chicago possessed by gentlemen of the name of Sturgess and

Buckenham. It was a world in itself, and the dustiest of all the worlds. It contained, when I was there, half a

million bushels of wheator a very great many, as I might say in other language. But it was not as a

storehouse that this great building was so remarkable, but as a channel or a river course for the flooding

freshets of corn. It is so built that both railway vans and vessels come immediately under its claws, as I may

call the great trunks of the elevators. Out of the railway vans the corn and wheat is clawed up into the

building, and down similar trunks it is at once again poured out into the vessels. I shall be at Buffalo in a page

or two, and then I will endeavor to explain more minutely how this is done. At Chicago the corn is bought

and does change hands; and much of it, therefore, is stored there for some space of time, shorter or longer as

the case may be. When I was at Chicago, the only limit to the rapidity of its transit was set by the amount of

boat accommodation. There were not bottoms enough to take the corn away from Chicago, nor, indeed, on

the railway was there a sufficiency of rolling stock or locomotive power to bring it into Chicago. As I said

before, the country was bursting with its own produce and smothered in its own fruits.

At Chicago the hotel was bigger than other hotels and grander. There were pipes without end for cold water

which ran hot, and for hot water which would not run at all. The postoffice also was grander and bigger than

other postoffices, though the postmaster confessed to me that that matter of the delivery of letters was one

which could not be compassed. Just at that moment it was being done as a private speculation; but it did not

pay, and would be discontinued. The theater, too, was large, handsome, and convenient; but on the night of

my attendance it seemed to lack an audience. A good comic actor it did not lack, and I never laughed more

heartily in my life. There was something wrong, too, just at that timeI could not make out whatin the

Constitution of Illinois, and the present moment had been selected for voting a new Constitution. To us in

England such a necessity would be considered a matter of importance, but it did not seem to be much thought

of here, "Some slight alteration probably," I suggested. "No," said my informant, one of the judges of their

courts, "it is to be a thorough, radical change of the whole Constitution. They are voting the delegates

today." I went to see them vote the delegates, but, unfortunately, got into a wrong placeby

invitationand was turned out, not without some slight tumult. I trust that the new Constitution was carried

From these little details it may, perhaps, be understood how a town like Chicago goes on and prospers in

spite of all the drawbacks which are incident to newness. Men in those regions do not mind failures, and,

when they have failed, instantly begin again. They make their plans on a large scale, and they who come after

them fill up what has been wanting at first. Those taps of hot and cold water will be made to run by the next

owner of the hotel, if not by the present owner. In another ten years the letters, I do not doubt, will all be

delivered. Long before that time the theater will probably be full. The new Constitution is no doubt already at

work, and, if found deficient, another will succeed to it without any trouble to the State or any talk on the

subject through the Union. Chicago was intended as a town of export for corn, and therefore the corn stores

have received the first attention. When I was there they were in perfect working order.

From Chicago we went on to Cleveland, a town in the State of Ohio, on Lake Erie, again traveling by the

sleepingcars. I found that these cars were universally mentioned with great horror and disgust by Americans

of the upper class. They always declared that they would not travel in them on any account. Noise and dirt

were the two objections. They are very noisy, but to us belonged the happy power of sleeping down noise. I

invariably slept all through the night, and knew nothing about the noise. They are also very dirty extremely

dirtydirty so as to cause much annoyance. But then they are not quite so dirty as the day cars. If dirt is to

be a bar against traveling in America, men and women must stay at home. For myself, I don't much care for

dirt, having a strong reliance on soap and water and scrubbingbrushes. No one regards poisons who carries

Cleveland is another pleasant townpleasant as Milwaukee and Portland. The streets are handsome and are

shaded by grand avenues of trees. One of these streets is over a mile in length, and throughout the whole of it

there are trees on each sidenot little, paltry trees as are to be seen on the boulevards of Paris, but spreading

elms: the beautiful American elm, which not only spreads, but droops also, and makes more of its foliage

than any other tree extant. And there is a square in Cleveland, well sized, as large as Russell Square I should

say, with open paths across it, and containing one or two handsome buildings. I cannot but think that all men

and women in London would be great gainers if the iron rails of the squares were thrown down and the

grassy inclosures thrown open to the public. Of course the edges of the turf would be worn, and the paths

would not keep their exact shapes. But the prison look would be banished, and the somber sadness of the

I was particularly struck by the size and comfort of the houses at Cleveland. All down that street of which I

have spoken they do not stand continuously together, but are detached and separatehouses which in

England would require some fifteen or eighteen hundred a year for their maintenance. In the States, however,

men commonly expend upon house rent a much greater proportion of their income than they do in England.

With us it is, I believe, thought that a man should certainly not apportion more than a seventh of his spending

income to his house rentsome say not more than a tenth. But in many cities of the States a man is thought

to live well within bounds if he so expends a fourth. There can be no doubt as to Americans living in better

houses than Englishmen, making the comparison of course between men of equal incomes. But the

Englishman has many more incidental expenses than the American. He spends more on wine, on

entertainments, on horses, and on amusements. He has a more numerous establishment, and keeps up the

These houses in Cleveland were very good, as, indeed, they are in most Northern towns; but some of them

have been erected with an amount of bad taste that is almost incredible. It is not uncommon to see in front of

a square brick house a wooden quasiGreek portico, with a pediment and Ionic columns, equally high with

the house itself. Wooden columns with Greek capitals attached to the doorways, and wooden pediments over

the windows, are very frequent. As a rule, these are attached to houses which, without such ornamentation,

would be simple, unpretentious, square, roomy residences. An Ionic or Corinthian capital stuck on to a log of

wood called a column, and then fixed promiscuously to the outside of an ordinary house, is to my eye the

vilest of architectural pretenses. Little turrets are better than this, or even brown battlements made of mortar.

Except in America I do not remember to have seen these vicious bits of white timbertimber painted

Again we went on by rail to Buffalo. I have traveled some thousands of miles by railway in the States, taking

long journeys by night and longer journeys by day; but I do not remember that while doing so I ever made

acquaintance with an American. To an American lady in a railway car I should no more think of speaking

than I should to an unknown female in the next pew to me at a London church. It is hard to understand from

whence come the laws which govern societies in this respect; but there are different laws in different

societies, which soon obtain recognition for themselves. American ladies are much given to talking, and are

generally free from all mauvaise honte. They are collected in manner, well instructed, and resolved to have

their share of the social advantages of the world. In this phase of life they come out more strongly than

English women. But on a railway journey, be it ever so long, they are never seen speaking to a stranger.

English women, however, on English railways are generally willing to converse: they will do so if they be on

a journey; but will not open their mouths if they be simply passing backward and forward between their

homes and some neighboring town. We soon learn the rules on these subjects; but who make the rules? If you

cross the Atlantic with an American lady you invariably fall in love with her before the journey is over.

Travel with the same woman in a railway car for twelve hours, and you will have written her down in your

And now for Buffalo, and the elevators. I trust I have made it understood that corn comes into Buffalo, not

only from Chicago, of which I have spoken specially, but from all the ports round the lakes: Racine,

Milwaukee, Grand Haven, Port Sarnia, Detroit, Toledo, Cleveland, and many others. At these ports the

produce is generally bought and sold; but at Buffalo it is merely passed through a gateway. It is taken from

vessels of a size fitted for the lakes, and placed in other vessels fitted for the canal. This is the Erie Canal,

which connects the lakes with the Hudson River and with New York. The produce which passes through the

Welland Canalthe canal which connects Lake Erie and the upper lakes with Lake Ontario and the St.

Lawrenceis not transhipped, seeing that the Welland Canal, which is less than thirty miles in length, gives

a passage to vessels of 500 tons. As I have before said, 60,000,000 bushels of breadstuff were thus pushed

through Buffalo in the open months of the year 1861. These open months run from the middle of April to the

middle of November; but the busy period is that of the last two monthsthe time, that is, which intervenes

An elevator is as ugly a monster as has been yet produced. In uncouthness of form it outdoes those obsolete

old brutes who used to roam about the semiaqueous world, and live a most uncomfortable life with their

great hungering stomachs and huge unsatisfied maws. The elevator itself consists of a big movable

trunkmovable as is that of an elephant, but not pliable, and less graceful even than an elephant's. This is

attached to a huge granary or barn; but in order to give altitude within the barn for the necessary moving up

and down of this trunkseeing that it cannot be curled gracefully to its purposes as the elephant's is

curledthere is an awkward box erected on the roof of the barn, giving some twenty feet of additional

height, up into which the elevator can be thrust. It will be understood, then, that this big movable trunk, the

head of which, when it is at rest, is thrust up into the box on the roof, is made to slant down in an oblique

direction from the building to the river; for the elevator is an amphibious institution, and flourishes only on

the banks of navigable waters. When its head is ensconced within its box, and the beast of prey is thus nearly

hidden within the building, the unsuspicious vessel is brought up within reach of the creature's trunk, and

down it comes, like a musquito's proboscis, right through the deck, in at the open aperture of the hole, and so

into the very vitals and bowels of the ship. When there, it goes to work upon its food with a greed and an

avidity that is disgusting to a beholder of any taste or imagination. And now I must explain the anatomical

arrangement by which the elevator still devours and continues to devour, till the corn within its reach has all

been swallowed, masticated, and digested. Its long trunk, as seen slanting down from out of the building

across the wharf and into the ship, is a mere wooden pipe; but this pipe is divided within. It has two

departments; and as the grainbearing troughs pass up the one on a pliable band, they pass empty down the

other. The system, therefore, is that of an ordinary dredging machine only that corn and not mud is taken

away, and that the buckets or troughs are hidden from sight. Below, within the stomach of the poor bark,

three or four laborers are at work, helping to feed the elevator. They shovel the corn up toward its maw, so

that at every swallow he should take in all that he can hold. Thus the troughs, as they ascend, are kept full,

and when they reach the upper building they empty themselves into a shoot, over which a porter stands guard,

moderating the shoot by a door, which the weight of his finger can open and close. Through this doorway the

corn runs into a measure, and is weighed. By measures of forty bushels each, the tale is kept. There stands the

apparatus, with the figures plainly marked, over against the porter's eye; and as the sum mounts nearly up to

forty bushels he closes the door till the grains run thinly through, hardly a handful at a time, so that the

balance is exactly struck. Then the teller standing by marks down his figure, and the record is made. The

exact porter touches the string of another door, and the forty bushels of corn run out at the bottom of the

measure, disappear down another shoot, slanting also toward the water, and deposit themselves in the canal

boat. The transit of the bushels of corn from the larger vessel to the smaller will have taken less than a

But I have spoken of the rivers of wheat, and I must explain what are those rivers. In the working of the

elevator, which I have just attempted to describe, the two vessels were supposed to be lying at the same wharf

on the same side of the building, in the same water, the smaller vessel inside the larger one. When this is the

case the corn runs direct from the weighing measure into the shoot that communicates with the canal boat.

But there is not room or time for confining the work to one side of the building. There is water on both sides,

and the corn or wheat is elevated on the one side, and reshipped on the other. To effect this the corn is carried

across the breadth of the building; but, nevertheless, it is never handled or moved in its direction on trucks or

carriages requiring the use of men's muscles for its motion. Across the floor of the building are two gutters, or

channels, and through these, small troughs on a pliable band circulate very quickly. They which run one way,

in one channel, are laden; they which return by the other channel are empty. The corn pours itself into these,

and they again pour it into the shoot which commands the other water. And thus rivers of corn are running

through these buildings night and day. The secret of all the motion and arrangement consists, of course, in the

elevation. The corn is lifted up; and when lifted up can move itself and arrange itself, and weigh itself, and

I should have stated that all this wheat which passes through Buffalo comes loose, in bulk. Nothing is known

of sacks or bags. To any spectator at Buffalo this becomes immediately a matter of course; but this should be

explained, as we in England are not accustomed to see wheat traveling in this open, unguarded, and plebeian

manner. Wheat with us is aristocratic, and travels always in its private carriage.

Over and beyond the elevators there is nothing specially worthy of remark at Buffalo. It is a fine city, like all

other American cities of its class. The streets are broad, the "blocks" are high, and cars on tramways run all

We had now before us only two points of interest before we should reach New Yorkthe Falls of Trenton,

and West Point on the Hudson River. We were too late in the year to get up to Lake George, which lies in the

State of New York north of Albany, and is, in fact, the southern continuation of Lake Champlain. Lake

George, I know, is very lovely, and I would fain have seen it; but visitors to it must have some hotel

accommodation, and the hotel was closed when we were near enough to visit it. I was in its close

neighborhood three years since, in June; but then the hotel was not yet opened. A visitor to Lake George must

be very exact in his time. July and August are the monthswith, perhaps, the grace of a week in September.

The hotel at Trenton was also closed, as I was told. But even if there were no hotel at Trenton, it can be

visited without difficulty. It is within a carriage drive of Utica, and there is, moreover, a direct railway from

Utica, with a station at the Trenton Falls. Utica is a town on the line of railway from Buffalo to New York via

Albany, and is like all the other towns we had visited. There are broad streets, and avenues of trees, and large

shops, and excellent houses. A general air of fat prosperity pervades them all, and is strong at Utica as

I remember to have been told, thirty years ago, that a traveler might go far and wide in search of the

picturesque without finding a spot more romantic in its loveliness than Trenton Falls. The name of the river is

Canada Creek West; but as that is hardly euphonious, the course of the water which forms the falls has been

called after the town or parish. This course is nearly two miles in length; and along the space of this two

miles it is impossible to say where the greatest beauty exists. To see Trenton aright, one must be careful not

to have too much water. A sufficiency is no doubt desirable; and it may be that at the close of summer, before

any of the autumnal rains have fallen, there may occasionally be an insufficiency. But if there be too much,

the passage up the rocks along the river is impossible. The way on which the tourist should walk becomes the

bed of the stream, and the great charm of the place cannot be enjoyed. That charm consists in descending into

the ravine of the river, down amid the rocks through which it has cut its channel, and in walking up the bed

against the stream, in climbing the sides of the various falls, and sticking close to the river till an envious

block is reached which comes sheer down into the water and prevents farther progress. This is nearly two

miles above the steps by which the descent is made; and not a foot of this distance but is wildly beautiful.

When the river is very low there is a pathway even beyond that block; but when this is the case there can

There is no one special cataract at Trenton which is in itself either wonderful or preeminently beautiful. It is

the position, form, color, and rapidity of the river which gives the charm. It runs through a deep ravine, at the

bottom of which the water has cut for itself a channel through the rocks, the sides of which rise sometimes

with the sharpness of the walls of a stone sarcophagus. They are rounded, too, toward the bed as I have seen

the bottom of a sarcophagus. Along the side of the right bank of the river there is a passage which, when the

freshets come, is altogether covered. This passage is sometimes very narrow; but in the narrowest parts an

iron chain is affixed into the rock. It is slippery and wet; and it is well for ladies, when visiting the place, to

be provided with outside Indiarubber shoes, which keep a hold upon the stone. If I remember rightly, there

are two actual cataractsone not far above the steps by which the descent is made into the channel, and the

other close under a summerhouse, near to which the visitors reascend into the wood. But these cataracts,

though by no means despicable as cataracts, leave comparatively a slight impression. They tumble down with

sufficient violence and the usual fantastic disposition of their forces; but simply as cataracts within a day's

journey of Niagara, they would be nothing. Up beyond the summer house the passage along the river can be

continued for another mile; but it is rough, and the climbing in some places rather difficult for ladies. Every

man, however, who has the use of his legs should do it; for the succession of rapids, and the twistings of the

channels, and the forms of the rocks are as wild and beautiful as the imagination can desire. The banks of the

river are closely wooded on each side; and though this circumstance does not at first seem to add much to the

beauty, seeing that the ravine is so deep that the absence of wood above would hardly be noticed, still there

are broken clefts ever and anon through which the colors of the foliage show themselves, and straggling

boughs and rough roots break through the rocks here and there, and add to the wildness and charm of the

The walk back from the summerhouse through the wood is very lovely; but it would be a disappointing

walk to visitors who had been prevented by a flood in the river from coming up the channel, for it indicates

plainly how requisite it is that the river should be seen from below and not from above. The best view of the

larger fall itself is that seen from the wood. And here again I would point out that any male visitor should

walk the channel of the river up and down. The descent is too slippery and difficult for bipeds laden with

petticoats. We found a small hotel open at Trenton, at which we got a comfortable dinner, and then in the

Albany is the capital of the State of New York, and our road from Trenton to West Point lay through that

town; but these political State capitals have no interest in themselves. The State legislature was not sitting;

and we went on, merely remarking that the manner in which the railway cars are made to run backward and

forward through the crowded streets of the town must cause a frequent loss of human life. One is led to

suppose that children in Albany can hardly have a chance of coming to maturity. Such accidents do not

become the subject of longcontinued and strong comment in the States as they do with us; but nevertheless I

should have thought that such a state of things as we saw there would have given rise to some remark on the

part of the philanthropists. I cannot myself say that I saw anybody killed, and therefore should not be justified

When first the Americans of the Northern States began to talk much of their country, their claims as to fine

scenery were confined to Niagara and the Hudson River. Of Niagara I have spoken; and all the world has

acknowledged that no claim made on that head can be regarded as exaggerated. As to the Hudson I am not

prepared to say so much generally, though there is one spot upon it which cannot be beaten for sweetness. I

have been up and down the Hudson by water, and confess that the entire river is pretty. But there is much of

it that is not preeminently pretty among rivers. As a whole, it cannot be named with the Upper Mississippi,

with the Rhine, with the Moselle, or with the Upper Rhone. The palisades just out of New York are pretty,

and the whole passage through the mountains from West Point up to Catskill and Hudson is interesting. But

the glory of the Hudson is at West Point itself; and thither on this occasion we went direct by railway, and

there we remained for two days. The Catskill Mountains should be seen by a detour from off the river. We

did not visit them, because here again the hotel was closed. I will leave them, therefore, for the new hand

Of West Point there is something to be said independently of its scenery. It is the Sandhurst of the States.

Here is their military school, from which officers are drafted to their regiments, and the tuition for military

purposes is, I imagine, of a high order. It must of course be borne in mind that West Point, even as at present

arranged, is fitted to the wants of the old army, and not to that of the army now required. It can go but a little

way to supply officers for 500,000 men; but would do much toward supplying them for 40,000. At the time

of my visit to West Point the regular army of the Northern States had not even then swelled itself to the latter

I found that there were 220 students at West Point; that about forty graduate every year, each of whom

receives a commission in the army; that about 120 pupils are admitted every year; and that in the course of

every year about eighty either resign, or are called upon to leave on account of some deficiency, or fail in

their final examination. The result is simply this, that onethird of those who enter succeeds, and that

twothirds fail. The number of failures seemed to me to be terribly largeso large as to give great ground of

hesitation to a parent in accepting a nomination for the college. I especially inquired into the particulars of

these dismissals and resignations, and was assured that the majority of them take place in the first year of the

pupilage. It is soon seen whether or no a lad has the mental and physical capacities necessary for the

education and future life required of him, and care is taken that those shall be removed early as to whom it

may be determined that the necessary capacity is clearly wanting. If this is doneand I do not doubt itthe

evil is much mitigated. The effect otherwise would be very injurious. The lads remain till they are perhaps

one and twenty, and have then acquired aptitudes for military life, but no other aptitudes. At that age the

education cannot be commenced anew, and, moreover, at that age the disgrace of failure is very injurious.

The period of education used to be five years, but has now been reduced to four. This was done in order that a

double class might be graduated in 1861 to supply the wants of the war. I believe it is considered that but for

The discipline, to our English ideas, is very strict. In the first place no kind of beer, wine, or spirits is allowed

at West Point. The law upon this point may be said to be very vehement, for it debars even the visitors at the

hotel from the solace of a glass of beer. The hotel is within the bounds of the college, and as the lads might

become purchasers at the bar, there is no bar allowed. Any breach of this law leads to instant expulsion; or, I

should say rather, any detection of such breach. The officer who showed us over the college assured me that

the presence of a glass of wine in a young man's room would secure his exclusion, even though there should

be no evidence that he had tasted it. He was very firm as to this; but a little bird of West Point, whose

information, though not official or probably accurate in words, seemed to me to be worthy of reliance in

general, told me that eyes were wont to wink when such glasses of wine made themselves unnecessarily

visible. Let us fancy an English mess of young men from seventeen to twenty one, at which a mug of beer

would be felony and a glass of wine high treason! But the whole management of the young with the

Americans differs much from that in vogue with us. We do not require so much at so early an age, either in

knowledge, in morals, or even in manliness. In America, if a lad be under control, as at West Point, he is

called upon for an amount of labor and a degree of conduct which would be considered quite transcendental

and out of the question in England. But if he be not under control, if at the age of eighteen he be living at

home, or be from his circumstances exempt from professorial power, he is a fullfledged man, with his pipe

And then I was told, at West Point, how needful and yet how painful it was that all should be removed who

were in any way deficient in credit to the establishment. "Our rules are very exact," my informant told me;

"but the carrying out of our rules is a task not always very easy." As to this also I had already heard

something from that little bird of West Point; but of course I wisely assented to my informant, remarking that

discipline in such an establishment was essentially necessary. The little bird had told me that discipline at

West Point had been rendered terribly difficult by political interference. "A young man will be dismissed by

the unanimous voice of the board, and will be sent away. And then, after a week or two, he will be sent back,

with an order from Washington that another trial shall be given him. The lad will march back into the college

with all the honors of a victory, and will be conscious of a triumph over the superintendent and his officers."

"And is that common?" I asked. "Not at the present moment," I was told. "But it was common before the war.

While Mr. Buchanan, and Mr. Pierce, and Mr. Polk were Presidents, no officer or board of officers then at

West Point was able to dismiss a lad whose father was a Southerner, and who had friends among the

Not only was this true of West Point, but the same allegation is true as to all matters of patronage throughout

the United States. During the three or four last presidencies, and I believe back to the time of Jackson, there

has been an organized system of dishonesty in the management of all beneficial places under the control of

the government. I doubt whether any despotic court of Europe has been so corrupt in the distribution of

placesthat is, in the selection of public officersas has been the assemblage of statesmen at Washington.

And this is the evil which the country is now expiating with its blood and treasure. It has allowed its knaves

to stand in the high places; and now it finds that knavish works have brought about evil results. But of this I

We went into all the schools of the college, and made ourselves fully aware that the amount of learning

imparted was far above our comprehension. It always occurs to me, in looking through the new schools of the

present day, that I ought to be thankful to persons who know so much for condescending to speak to me at all

in plain English. I said a word to the gentleman who was with me about horses, seeing a lot of lads going to

their riding lesson. But he was down upon me, and crushed me instantly beneath the weight of my own

ignorance. He walked me up to the image of a horse, which he took to pieces, bit by bit, taking off skin,

muscle, flesh, nerves, and bones, till the animal was a heap of atoms, and assured me that the anatomy of the

horse throughout was one of the necessary studies of the place. We afterward went to see the riding. The

horses themselves were poor enough. This was accounted for by the fact that such of them as had been found

There is a gallery in the college in which are hung sketches and pictures by former students. I was greatly

struck with the merit of many of these. There were some copies from wellknown works of art of very high

excellence, when the age is taken into account of those by whom they were done. I don't know how far the art

of drawing, as taught generally, and with no special tendency to military instruction, may be necessary for

military training; but if it be necessary I should imagine that more is done in that direction at West Point than

at Sandhurst. I found, however, that much of that in the gallery, which was good, had been done by lads who

had not obtained their degree, and who had shown an aptitude for drawing, but had not shown any aptitude

And then we were taken to the chapel, and there saw, displayed as trophies, two of our own dear old English

flags. I have seen many a banner hung up in token of past victory, and many a flag taken on the field of battle

mouldering by degrees into dust on some chapel's wallbut they have not been the flags of England. Till

this day I had never seen our own colors in any position but one of selfassertion and independent power.

From the tone used by the gentleman who showed them to me, I could gather that he would have passed them

by, had he not foreseen that he could not do so without my notice. "I don't know that we are right to put them

there," he said. "Quite right," was my reply, "as long as the world does such things." In private life it is vulgar

to triumph over one's friends, and malicious to triumph over one's enemies. We have not got so far yet in

public life, but I hope we are advancing toward it. In the mean time I did not begrudge the Americans our two

flags. If we keep flags and cannons taken from our enemies, and show them about as signs of our own

prowess after those enemies have become friends, why should not others do so as regards us? It clearly would

not be well for the world that we should always beat other nations and never be beaten. I did not begrudge

that chapel our two flags. But, nevertheless, the sight of them made me sick in the stomach and

uncomfortable. As an Englishman I do not want to be ascendant over any one. But it makes me very ill when

any one tries to be ascendant over me. I wish we could send back with our compliments all the trophies that

we hold, carriage paid, and get back in return those two flags, and any other flag or two of our own that may

be doing similar duty about the world. I take it that the parcel sent away would be somewhat more bulky than

The discipline at West Point seemed, as I have said, to be very severe; but it seemed also that that severity

could not in all cases be maintained. The hours of study also were long, being nearly continuous throughout

the day. "English lads of that age could not do it," I said; thus confessing that English lads must have in them

less power of sustained work than those of America. "They must do it here," said my informant, "or else

leave us." And then he took us off to one of the young gentlemen's quarters, in order that we might see the

nature of their rooms. We found the young gentleman fast asleep on his bed, and felt uncommonly grieved

that we should have thus intruded on him. As the hour was one of those allocated by my informant in the

distribution of the day to private study, I could not but take the present occupation of the embryo warrior as

an indication that the amount of labor required might be occasionally too much even for an American youth.

"The heat makes one so uncommonly drowsy," said the young man. I was not the least surprised at the

exclamation. The air of the apartment had been warmed up to such a pitch by the hotpipe apparatus of the

building that prolonged life to me would, I should have thought, be out of the question in such an atmosphere.

"Do you always have it as hot as this?" I asked. The young man swore that it was so, and with considerable

energy expressed his opinion that all his health, and spirits, and vitality were being baked out of him. He

seemed to have a strong opinion on the matter, for which I respected him; but it had never occurred to him,

and did not then occur to him, that anything could be done to moderate that deathly flow of hot air which

came up to him from the neighboring infernal regions. He was pale in the face, and all the lads there were

pale. American lads and lasses are all pale. Men at thirty and women at twentyfive have had all semblance

of youth baked out of them. Infants even are not rosy, and the only shades known on the cheeks of children

are those composed of brown, yellow, and white. All this comes of those damnable hotair pipes with which

every tenement in America is infested. "We cannot do without them," they say. "Our cold is so intense that

we must heat our houses throughout. Open fireplaces in a few rooms would not keep our toes and fingers

from the frost." There is much in this. The assertion is no doubt true, and thereby a great difficulty is created.

It is no doubt quite within the power of American ingenuity to moderate the heat of these stoves, and to

produce such an atmosphere as may be most conducive to health. In hospitals no doubt this will be done;

perhaps is done at presentthough even in hospitals I have thought the air hotter than it should be. But

hotair drinking is like dramdrinking. There is the machine within the house capable of supplying any

quantity, and those who consume it unconsciously increase their draughts, and take their drains stronger and

West Point is at all points a military colony, and, as such, belongs exclusively to the Federal government as

separate from the government of any individual State. It is the purchased property of the United States as a

whole, and is devoted to the necessities of a military college. No man could take a house there, or succeed in

getting even permanent lodgings, unless he belonged to or were employed by the establishment. There is no

intercourse by road between West Point and other towns or villages on the river side, and any such

intercourse even by water is looked upon with jealousy by the authorities. The wish is that West Point should

be isolated and kept apart for military instruction to the exclusion of all other purposes whateverespecially

lovemaking purposes. The coming over from the other side of the water of young ladies by the ferry is

regarded as a great hinderance. They will come, and then the military students will talk to them. We all know

to what such talking leads! A lad when I was there had been tempted to get out of barracks in plain clothes, in

order that he might call on a young lady at the hotel; and was in consequence obliged to abandon his

commission and retire from the Academy. Will that young lady ever again sleep quietly in her bed? I should

hope not. An opinion was expressed to me that there should be no hotel in such a placethat there should be

no ferry, no roads, no means by which the attention of the students should be distractedthat these military

Rasselases should live in a happy military valley from which might be excluded both strong drinks and

female charmsthose two poisons from which youthful military ardor is supposed to suffer so much.

It always seems to me that such training begins at the wrong end. I will not say that nothing should be done to

keep lads of eighteen from strong drinks. I will not even say that there should not be some line of moderation

with reference to feminine allurements. But, as a rule, the restraint should come from the sense, good feeling,

and education of him who is restrained. There is no embargo on the beershops either at Harrow or at

Oxfordand certainly none upon the young ladies. Occasional damage may accrue from habits early

depraved, or a heart too early and too easily susceptible; but the injury so done is not, I think, equal to that

inflicted by a Draconian code of morals, which will probably be evaded, and will certainly create a desire for

Nevertheless, I feel assured that West Point, taken as a whole, is an excellent military academy, and that

young men have gone forth from it, and will go forth from it, fit for officers as far as training can make men

fit. The fault, if fault there be, is that which is to be found in so many of the institutions of the United States,

and is one so allied to a virtue, that no foreigner has a right to wonder that it is regarded in the light of a virtue

by all Americans. There has been an attempt to make the place too perfect. In the desire to have the

establishment selfsufficient at all points, more has been attempted than human nature can achieve. The lad is

taken to West Point, and it is presumed that from the moment of his reception he shall expend every energy

of his mind and body in making himself a soldier. At fifteen he is not to be a boy, at twenty he is not to be a

young man. He is to be a gentleman, a soldier, and an officer. I believe that those who leave the college for

the army are gentlemen, soldiers, and officers, and, therefore, the result is good. But they are also young men;

and it seems that they have become so, not in accordance with their training, but in spite of it.

But I have another complaint to make against the authorities of West Point, which they will not be able to

answer so easily as that already preferred. What right can they have to take the very prettiest spot on the

Hudsonthe prettiest spot on the continent one of the prettiest spots which Nature, with all her vagaries,

ever formedand shut it up from all the world for purposes of war? Would not any plain, however ugly, do

for military exercises? Cannot broadsword, goosestep, and doublequick time be instilled into young hands

and legs in any field of thirty, forty, or fifty acres? I wonder whether these lads appreciate the fact that they

are studying fourteen hours a day amid the sweetest river, rock, and mountain scenery that the imagination

can conceive. Of course it will be said, that the world at large is not excluded from West Point, that the ferry

to the place is open, and that there is even a hotel there, closed against no man or woman who will consent to

become a teetotaller for the period of his visit. I must admit that this is so; but still one feels that one is only

admitted as a guest. I want to go and live at West Point, and why should I be prevented? The government had

a right to buy it of course, but government should not buy up the prettiest spots on a country's surface. If I

were an American, I should make a grievance of this; but Americans will suffer things from their government

It is one of the peculiarities of West Point that everything there is in good taste. The point itself consists of a

bluff of land so formed that the River Hudson is forced to run round three sides of it. It is consequently a

peninsula; and as the surrounding country is mountainous on both sides of the river, it may be imagined that

the site is good. The views both up and down the river are lovely, and the mountains behind break themselves

so as to make the landscape perfect. But this is not all. At West Point there is much of buildings, much of

military arrangement in the way of cannons, forts, and artillery yards. All these things are so contrived as to

group themselves well into pictures. There is no picture of architectural grandeur; but everything stands well

and where it should stand, and the eye is not hurt at any spot. I regard West Point as a delightful place, and

I think it may be received as a fact that the Northern States, taken together, sent a full tenth of their

ablebodied men into the ranks of the army in the course of the summer and autumn of 1861. The South, no

doubt, sent a much larger proportion; but the effect of such a drain upon the South would not be the same,

because the slaves were left at home to perform the agricultural work of the country. I very much doubt

whether any other nation ever made such an effort in so short a time. To a people who can do this it may well

be granted that they are in earnest; and I do not think it should be lightly decided by any foreigner that they

are wrong. The strong and unanimous impulse of a great people is seldom wrong. And let it be borne in mind

that in this case both people may be rightthe people both of North and South. Each may have been guided

by a just and noble feeling, though each was brought to its present condition by bad government and

There can be no doubt that, since the commencement of the war the American feeling against England has

been very bitter. All Americans to whom I spoke on the subject admitted that it was so. I, as an Englishman,

felt strongly the injustice of this feeling, and lost no opportunity of showing, or endeavoring to show, that the

line of conduct pursued by England toward the States was the only line which was compatible with her own

policy and just interests and also with the dignity of the States government. I heard much of the tender

sympathy of Russia. Russia sent a flourishing general message, saying that she wished the North might win,

and ending with some good general advice proposing peace. It was such a message as strong nations send to

those which are weaker. Had England ventured on such counsel, the diplomatic paper would probably have

been returned to her. It is, I think, manifest that an absolute and disinterested neutrality has been the only

course which could preserve England from deserved rebukea neutrality on which her commercial necessity

for importing cotton or exporting her own manufactures should have no effect. That our government would

preserve such a neutrality I have always insisted; and I believe it has been done with a pure and strict

disregard to any selfish views on the part of Great Britain. So far I think England may feel that she has done

well in this matter. But I must confess that I have not been so proud of the tone of all our people at home as I

have been of the decisions of our statesmen. It seems to me that some of us never tire in abusing the

Americans, and calling them names for having allowed themselves to be driven into this civil war. We tell

them that they are fools and idiots; we speak of their doings as though there had been some plain course by

which the war might have been avoided; and we throw it in their teeth that they have no capability for war.

We tell them of the debt which they are creating, and point out to them that they can never pay it. We laugh at

their attempt to sustain loyalty, and speak of them as a steady father of a family is wont to speak of some

unthrifty prodigal who is throwing away his estate and hurrying from one ruinous debauchery to another.

And, alas! we too frequently allow to escape from us some expression of that satisfaction which one rival

tradesman has in the downfall of another. "Here you are with all your boasting," is what we say. "You were

going to whip all creation the other day; and it has come to this! Brag is a good dog, but Holdfast is a better.

Pray remember that, if ever you find yourselves on your legs again." That little advice about the two dogs is

very well, and was not altogether inapplicable. But this is not the time in which it should be given. Putting

aside slight asperities, we will all own that the people of the States have been and are our friends, and that as

friends we cannot spare them. For one Englishman who brings home to his own heart a feeling of cordiality

for Francea belief in the affection of our French alliancethere are ten who do so with reference to the

States. Now, in these days of their trouble, I think that we might have borne with them more tenderly.

And how was it possible that they should have avoided this war? I will not now go into the cause of it, or

discuss the course which it has taken, but will simply take up the fact of the rebellion. The South rebelled

against the North; and such being the case, was it possible that the North should yield without a war? It may

very likely be well that Hungary should be severed from Austria, or Poland from Russia, or Venice from

Austria. Taking Englishmen in a lump, they think that such separation would be well. The subject people do

not speak the language of those that govern them or enjoy kindred interests. But yet when military efforts are

made by those who govern Hungary, Poland, and Venice to prevent such separation, we do not say that

Russia and Austria are fools. We are not surprised that they should take up arms against the rebels, but would

be very much surprised indeed if they did not do so. We know that nothing but weakness would prevent their

doing so. But if Austria and Russia insist on tying to themselves a people who do not speak their language or

live in accordance with their habits, and are not considered unreasonable in so insisting, how much more

thoroughly would they carry with them the sympathy of their neighbors in preventing any secession by

integral parts of their own nationalities! Would England let Ireland walk off by herself, if she wished it? In

1843 she did wish it. Threefourths of the Irish population would have voted for such a separation; but

England would have prevented such a secession vi et armis, had Ireland driven her to the necessity of such

I will put it to any reader of history whether, since government commenced, it has not been regarded as the

first duty of government to prevent a separation of the territories governed; and whether, also, it has not been

regarded as a point of honor with all nationalities to preserve uninjured each its own greatness and its own

power? I trust that I may not be thought to argue that all governments, or even all nationalities, should

succeed in such endeavors. Few kings have fallen, in my day, in whose fate I have not rejoicednone, I take

it, except that poor citizen King of the French. And I can rejoice that England lost her American colonies, and

shall rejoice when Spain has been deprived of Cuba. But I hold that citizen King of the French in small

esteem, seeing that he made no fight; and I know that England was bound to struggle when the Boston people

threw her tea into the water. Spain keeps a tighter hand on Cuba than we thought she would some ten years

It may be well that the South should be divided from the North. I am inclined to think that it would be

wellat any rate for the North; but the South must have been aware that such division could only be effected

in two ways: either by agreement, in which case the proposition must have been brought forward by the

South and discussed by the North, or by violence. They chose the latter way, as being the readier and the

surer, as most seceding nations have done. O'Connell, when struggling for the secession of Ireland, chose the

other, and nothing came of it. The South chose violence, and prepared for it secretly and with great

adroitness. If that be not rebellion, there never has been rebellion since history began; and if civil war was

ever justified in one portion of a nation by turbulence in another, it has now been justified in the Northern

What was the North to do; this foolish North, which has been so liberally told by us that she has taken up

arms for nothing, that she is fighting for nothing, and will ruin herself for nothing? When was she to take the

first step toward peace? Surely every Englishman will remember that when the earliest tidings of the coming

quarrel reached us on the election of Mr. Lincoln, we all declared that any division was impossible; it was a

mere madness to speak of it. The States, which were so great in their unity, would never consent to break up

all their prestige and all their power by a separation! Would it have been well for the North then to say, "If

the South wish it we will certainly separate?" After that, when Mr. Lincoln assumed the power to which he

had been elected, and declared with sufficient manliness, and sufficient dignity also, that he would make no

war upon the South, but would collect the customs and carry on the government, did we turn round and

advise him that he was wrong? No. The idea in England then was that his message was, if anything, too mild.

"If he means to be President of the whole Union," England said, "he must come out with something stronger

than that." Then came Mr. Seward's speech, which was, in truth, weak enough. Mr. Seward had ran Mr.

Lincoln very hard for the President's chair on the Republican interest, and was, most unfortunately, as I think,

made Secretary of State by Mr. Lincoln, or by his party. The Secretary of State holds the highest office in the

United States government under the President. He cannot be compared to our Prime Minister, seeing that the

President himself exercises political power, and is responsible for its exercise. Mr. Seward's speech simply

amounted to a declaration that separation was a thing of which the Union would neither hear, speak, nor, if

possible, think. Things looked very like it; but no, they could never come to that! The world was too good,

and especially the American world. Mr. Seward had no specific against secession; but let every free man

strike his breast, look up to heaven, determine to be good, and all would go right. A great deal had been

expected from Mr. Seward, and when this speech came out, we in England were a little disappointed, and

It will be argued by those who have gone into the details of American politics that an acceptance of the

Crittenden compromise at this point would have saved the war. What is or was the Crittenden compromise I

will endeavor to explain hereafter; but the terms and meaning of that compromise can have no bearing on the

subject. The Republican party who were in power disapproved of that compromise, and could not model their

course upon it. The Republican party may have been right or may have been wrong; but surely it will not be

argued that any political party elected to power by a majority should follow the policy of a minority, lest that

minority should rebel. I can conceive of no government more lowly placed than one which deserts the policy

of the majority which supports it, fearing either the tongues or arms of a minority.

As the next scene in the play, the State of South Carolina bombarded Fort Sumter. Was that to be the moment

for a peaceable separation? Let us suppose that O'Connell had marched down to the Pigeon House, at Dublin,

and had taken it, in 1843, let us say, would that have been an argument to us for allowing Ireland to set up for

herself? Is that the way of men's minds, or of the minds of nations? The powers of the President were defined

by law, as agreed upon among all the States of the Union, and against that power and against that law South

Carolina raised her hand, and the other States joined her in rebellion. When circumstances had come to that, it

was no longer possible that the North should shun the war. To my thinking the rights of rebellion are holy.

Where would the world have been, or where would the world hope to be, without rebellion? But let rebellion

look the truth in the face, and not blanch from its own consequences. She has to judge her own opportunities

and to decide on her own fitness. Success is the test of her judgment. But rebellion can never be successful

except by overcoming the power against which she raises herself. She has no right to expect bloodless

triumphs; and if she be not the stronger in the encounter which she creates, she must bear the penalty of her

rashness. Rebellion is justified by being better served than constituted authority, but cannot be justified

otherwise. Now and again it may happen that rebellion's cause is so good that constituted authority will fall to

the ground at the first glance of her sword. This was so the other day in Naples, when Garibaldi blew away

the king's armies with a breath. But this is not so often. Rebellion knows that it must fight, and the legalized

I cannot see at what point the North first sinned; nor do I think that had the North yielded, England would

have honored her for her meekness. Had she yielded without striking a blow, she would have been told that

she had suffered the Union to drop asunder by her supineness. She would have been twitted with cowardice,

and told that she was no match for Southern energy. It would then have seemed to those who sat in judgment

on her that she might have righted everything by that one blow from which she had abstained. But having

struck that one blow, and having found that it did not suffice, could she then withdraw, give way, and own

herself beaten? Has it been so usually with AngloSaxon pluck? In such case as that, would there have been

no mention of those two dogs, Brag and Holdfast? The man of the Northern States knows that he has

braggedbragged as loudly as his English forefathers. In that matter of bragging, the British lion and the

starspangled banner may abstain from throwing mud at each other. And now the Northern man wishes to

show that he can hold fast also. Looking at all this I cannot see that peace has been possible to the North.

As to the question of secession and rebellion being one and the same thing, the point to me does not seem to

bear an argument. The confederation of States had a common army, a common policy, a common capital, a

common government, and a common debt. If one might secede, any or all might secede, and where then

would be their property, their debt, and their servants? A confederation with such a license attached to it

would have been simply playing at national power. If New York had secededa State which stretches from

the Atlantic to British North Americait would have cut New England off from the rest of the Union. Was it

legally within the power of New York to place the six States of New England in such a position? And why

should it be assumed that so suicidal a power of destroying a nationality should be inherent in every portion

of the nation? The Slates are bound together by a written compact, but that compact gives each State no such

power. Surely such a power would have been specified had it been intended that it should be given. But there

are axioms in politics as in mathematics, which recommend themselves to the mind at once, and require no

argument for their proof. Men who are not argumentative perceive at once that they are true. A part cannot be

I think it is plain that the remnant of the Union was bound to take up arms against those States which had

illegally torn themselves off from her; and if so, she could only do so with such weapons as were at her hand.

The United States army had never been numerous or well appointed; and of such officers and equipments as

it possessed, the more valuable part was in the hands of the Southerners. It was clear enough that she was ill

provided, and that in going to war she was undertaking a work as to which she had still to learn many of the

rudiments. But Englishmen should be the last to twit her with such ignorance. It is not yet ten years since we

were all boasting that swords and guns were useless things, and that military expenditure might be cut down

to any minimum figure that an economizing Chancellor of the Exchequer could name. Since that we have

extemporized two if not three armies. There are our volunteers at home; and the army which holds India can

hardly be considered as one with that which is to maintain our prestige in Europe and the West. We made

some natural blunders in the Crimea, but in making those blunders we taught ourselves the trade. It is the

misfortune of the Northern States that they must learn these lessons in fighting their own countrymen. In the

course of our history we have suffered the same calamity more than once. The Roundheads, who beat the

Cavaliers and created English liberty, made themselves soldiers on the bodies of their countrymen. But

England was not ruined by that civil war; nor was she ruined by those which preceded it. From out of these

she came forth stronger than she entered themstronger, better, and more fit for a great destiny in the history

of nations. The Northern States had nearly five hundred thousand men under arms when the winter of 1861

commenced, and for that enormous multitude all commissariat requirements were well supplied. Camps and

barracks sprang up through the country as though by magic. Clothing was obtained with a rapidity that has I

think, never been equaled. The country had not been prepared for the fabrication of arms, and yet arms were

put into the men's hands almost as quickly as the regiments could be mustered. The eighteen millions of the

Northern States lent themselves to the effort as one man. Each State gave the best it had to give. Newspapers

were as rabid against each other as ever, but no newspaper could live which did not support the war. "The

South has rebelled against the law, and the law shall be supported." This has been the cry and the heartfelt

We have heard much of the tyranny of the present government of the United States, and of the tyranny also of

the people. They have both been very tyrannical. The "habeas corpus" has been suspended by the word of one

man. Arrests have been made on men who have been hardly suspected of more than secession principles.

Arrests have, I believe, been made in cases which have been destitute even of any fair ground for such

suspicion. Newspapers have been stopped for advocating views opposed to the feelings of the North, as freely

as newspapers were ever stopped in France for opposing the Emperor. A man has not been safe in the streets

who was known to be a secessionist. It must be at once admitted that opinion in the Northern States was not

free when I was there. But has opinion ever been free anywhere on all subjects? In the best built strongholds

of freedom, have there not always been questions on which opinion has not been free; and must it not always

be so? When the decision of a people on any matter has become, so to say, unanimouswhen it has shown

itself to be so general as to be clearly the expression of the nation's voice as a single chorus, that decision

becomes holy, and may not be touched. Could any newspaper be produced in England which advocated the

overthrow of the Queen? And why may not the passion for the Union be as strong with the Northern States,

as the passion for the Crown is strong with us? The Crown with us is in no danger, and therefore the matter is

at rest. But I think we must admit that in any nation, let it be ever so free, there may be points on which

opinion must be held under restraint. And as to those summary arrests, and the suspension of the "habeas

corpus," is there not something to be said for the States government on that head also? Military arrests are

very dreadful, and the soul of a nation's liberty is that personal freedom from arbitrary interference which is

signified to the world by those two unintelligible Latin words. A man's body shalt not be kept in duress at any

man's will, but shall be brought up into open court, with uttermost speed, in order that the law may say

whether or no it should be kept in duress. That I take it is the meaning of "habeas corpus," and it is easy to

see that the suspension of that privilege destroys all freedom, and places the liberty of every individual at the

mercy of him who has the power to suspend it. Nothing can be worse than this: and such suspension, if

extended over any long period of years, will certainly make a nation weak, mean spirited, and poor. But in a

period of civil war, or even of a widelyextended civil commotion, things cannot work in their accustomed

grooves. A lady does not willingly get out of her bedroomwindow with nothing on but her nightgown; but

when her house is on fire she is very thankful for an opportunity of doing so. It is not long since the "habeas

corpus" was suspended in parts of Ireland, and absurd arrests were made almost daily when that suspension

first took effect. It was grievous that there should be necessity for such a step; and it is very grievous now that

such necessity should be felt in the Northern States. But I do not think that it becomes Englishmen to bear

hardly upon Americans generally for what has been done in that matter. Mr. Seward, in an official letter to

the British Minister at Washingtonwhich letter, through official dishonesty, found its way to the

pressclaimed for the President the right of suspending the "habeas corpus" in the States whenever it might

seem good to him to do so. If this be in accordance with the law of the land, which I think must be doubted,

the law of the land is not favorable to freedom. For myself, I conceive that Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Seward have

been wrong in their law, and that no such right is given to the President by the Constitution of the United

States. This I will attempt to prove in some subsequent chapter. But I think it must be felt by all who have

given any thought to the Constitution of the States, that let what may be the letter of the law, the Presidents of

the United States have had no such power. It is because the States have been no longer united, that Mr.

And then as to the debt; it seems to me very singular that we in England should suppose that a great

commercial people would be ruined by a national debt. As regards ourselves, I have always looked on our

national debt as the ballast in our ship. We have a great deal of ballast, but then the ship is very big. The

States also are taking in ballast at a rather rapid rate; and we too took it in quickly when we were about it. But

I cannot understand why their ship should not carry, without shipwreck, that which our ship has carried

without damage, and, as I believe, with positive advantage to its sailing. The ballast, if carried honestly, will

not, I think, bring the vessel to grief. The fear is lest the ballast should be thrown overboard.

So much I have said wishing to plead the cause of the Northern States before the bar of English opinion, and

thinking that there is ground for a plea in their favor. But yet I cannot say that their bitterness against

Englishmen has been justified, or that their tone toward England has been dignified. Their complaint is that

they have received no sympathy from England; but it seems to me that a great nation should not require an

expression of sympathy during its struggle. Sympathy is for the weak rather than for the strong. When I hear

two powerful men contending together in argument, I do not sympathize with him who has the best of it; but

I watch the precision of his logic and acknowledge the effects of his rhetoric. There has been a whining

weakness in the complaints made by Americans against England, which has done more to lower them as a

people in my judgment than any other part of their conduct during the present crisis. When we were at war

with Russia, the feeling of the States was strongly against us. All their wishes were with our enemies. When

the Indian mutiny was at its worst, the feeling of France was equally adverse to us. The joy expressed by the

French newspapers was almost ecstatic. But I do not think that on either occasion we bemoaned ourselves

sadly on the want of sympathy shown by our friends. On each occasion we took the opinion expressed for

what it was worth, and managed to live it down. We listened to what was said, and let it pass by. When in

But in the Northern States of America the bitterness against England has amounted almost to a passion. The

playersthose chroniclers of the timehave had no hits so sure as those which have been aimed at

Englishmen as cowards, fools, and liars. No paper has dared to say that England has been true in her

American policy. The name of an Englishman has been made a byword for reproach. In private intercourse

private amenities have remained. I, at any rate, may boast that such has been the case as regards myself. But,

even in private life, I have been unable to keep down the feeling that I have always been walking over

It may be that, when the civil war in America is over, all this will pass by, and there will be nothing left of

international bitterness but its memory. It is sincerely to be hoped that this may be sothat even the memory

of the existing feeling may fade away and become unreal. I for one cannot think that two nations situated as

are the States and England should permanently quarrel and avoid each other. But words have been spoken

which will, I fear, long sound in men's ears, and thoughts have sprung up which will not easily allow

Speaking of New York as a traveler, I have two faults to find with it. In the first place, there is nothing to see;

and, in the second place, there is no mode of getting about to see anything. Nevertheless, New York is a most

interesting city. It is the third biggest city in the known world, for those Chinese congregations of unwinged

ants are not cities in the known world. In no other city is there a population so mixed and cosmopolitan in

their modes of life. And yet in no other city that I have seen are there such strong and ever visible

characteristics of the social and political bearings of the nation to which it belongs. New York appears to me

as infinitely more American than Boston, Chicago, or Washington. It has no peculiar attribute of its own, as

have those three citiesBoston in its literature and accomplished intelligence, Chicago in its internal trade,

and Washington in its Congressional and State politics. New York has its literary aspirations, its commercial

grandeur, and, Heaven knows, it has its politics also. But these do not strike the visitor as being specially

characteristic of the city. That it is preeminently American is its glory or its disgrace, as men of different

ways of thinking may decide upon it. Free institutions, general education, and the ascendency of dollars are

the words written on every pavingstone along Fifth Avenue, down Broadway, and up Wall Street. Every

man can vote, and values the privilege. Every man can read, and uses the privilege. Every man worships the

As regards voting and reading, no American will be angry with me for saying so much of him; and no

Englishman, whatever may be his ideas as to the franchise in his own country, will conceive that I have said

aught to the dishonor of an American. But as to that dollarworshiping, it will of course seem that I am

abusing the New Yorkers. We all know what a wretchedly wicked thing money ishow it stands between us

and heavenhow it hardens our hearts and makes vulgar our thoughts! Dives has ever gone to the devil,

while Lazarus has been laid up in heavenly lavender. The hand that employs itself in compelling gold to enter

the service of man has always been stigmatized as the ravisher of things sacred. The world is agreed about

that, and therefore the New Yorker is in a bad way. There are very few citizens in any town known to me

which under this dispensation are in a good way, but the New Yorker is in about the worst way of all. Other

men, the world over, worship regularly at the shrine with matins and vespers, nones and complines, and

whatever other daily services may be known to the religious houses; but the New Yorker is always on his

That is the amount of the charge which I bring against New York; and now, having laid on my paint thickly, I

shall proceed, like an unskillful artist, to scrape a great deal of it off again. New York has been a leading

commercial city in the world for not more than fifty or sixty years. As far as I can learn, its population at the

close of the last century did not exceed 60,000, and ten years later it had not reached 100,000. In 1860 it had

reached nearly 800,000 in the City of New York itself. To this number must be added the numbers of

Brooklyn, Williamsburg, and Jersey City, in order that a true conception may be had of the population of this

American metropolis, seeing that those places are as much a part of New York as Southwark is of London.

By this the total will be swelled to considerably above a million. It will no doubt be admitted that this growth

has been very fast, and that New York may well be proud of it. Increase of population is, I take it, the only

trustworthy sign of a nation's success or of a city's success. We boast that London has beaten the other cities

of the world, and think that that boast is enough to cover all the social sins for which London has to confess

her guilt. New York, beginning with 60,000 sixty years since, has now a million soulsa million mouths, all

of which eat a sufficiency of bread, all of which speak ore rotundo, and almost all of which can read. And this

For myself I do not believe that Dives is so black as he is painted or that his peril is so imminent. To

reconcile such an opinion with holy writ might place me in some difficulty were I a clergyman. Clergymen,

in these days, are surrounded by difficulties of this naturefinding it necessary to explain away many

oldestablished teachings which narrowed the Christian Church, and to open the door wide enough to satisfy

the aspirations and natural hopes of instructed men. The brethren of Dives are now so many and so intelligent

that they will no longer consent to be damned without looking closely into the matter themselves. I will leave

them to settle the matter with the Church, merely assuring them of my sympathy in their little difficulties in

To eat his bread in the sweat of his brow was man's curse in Adam's day, but is certainly man's blessing in

our day. And what is eating one's bread in the sweat of one's brow but making money? I will believe no man

who tells me that he would not sooner earn two loaves than oneand if two, then two hundred. I will believe

no man who tells me that he would sooner earn one dollar a day than twoand if two, then two hundred.

That is, in the very nature of the argument, caeteris paribus. When a man tells me that he would prefer one

honest loaf to two that are dishonest, I will, in all possible cases, believe him. So also a man may prefer one

quiet loaf to two that are unquiet. But under circumstances that are the same, and to a man who is sane, a

whole loaf is better than half, and two loaves are better than one. The preachers have preached well, but on

this matter they have preached in vain. Dives has never believed that he will be damned because he is Dives.

He has never even believed that the temptations incident to his position have been more than a fair

counterpoise, or even so much as a fair counterpoise, to his opportunities for doing good. All men who work

desire to prosper by their work, and they so desire by the nature given to them from God. Wealth and

progress must go on hand in hand together, let the accidents which occasionally divide them for a time

happen as often as they may. The progress of the Americans has been caused by their aptitude for

moneymaking; and that continual kneeling at the shrine of the coined goddess has carried them across from

New York to San Francisco. Men who kneel at that shrine are called on to have ready wits and quick hands,

and not a little aptitude for selfdenial. The New Yorker has been true to his dollar because his dollar has

But not on this account can I, nor on this account will any Englishman, reconcile himself to the savor of

dollars which pervades the atmosphere of New York. The ars celare artem is wanting. The making of money

is the work of man; but he need not take his work to bed with him, and have it ever by his side at table, amid

his family, in church, while he disports himself, as he declares his passion to the girl of his heart, in the

moments of his softest bliss, and at the periods of his most solemn ceremonies. That many do so elsewhere

than in New Yorkin London, for instance, in Paris, among the mountains of Switzerland, and the steppes

of RussiaI do not doubt. But there is generally a vail thrown over the object of the worshiper's idolatry. In

New York one's ear is constantly filled with the fanatic's voice as he prays, one's eyes are always on the

familiar altar. The frankincense from the temple is ever in one's nostrils. I have never walked down Fifth

Avenue alone without thinking of money. I have never walked there with a companion without talking of it. I

fancy that every man there, in order to maintain the spirit of the place, should bear on his forehead a label

stating how many dollars he is worth, and that every label should be expected to assert a falsehood.

I do not think that New York has been less generous in the use of its money than other cities, or that the men

of New York generally are so. Perhaps I might go farther and say that in no city has more been achieved for

humanity by the munificence of its richest citizens than in New York. Its hospitals, asylums, and institutions

for the relief of all ailments to which flesh is heir, are very numerous, and beyond praise in the excellence of

their arrangements. And this has been achieved in a great degree by private liberality. Men in America are not

as a rule anxious to leave large fortunes to their children. The millionaire when making his will very

generally gives back a considerable portion of the wealth which he has made to the city in which he made it.

The rich citizen is always anxious that the poor citizen shall be relieved. It is a point of honor with him to

raise the character of his municipality, and to provide that the deaf and dumb, the blind, the mad, the idiots,

the old, and the incurable shall have such alleviation in their misfortune as skill and kindness can afford.

Nor is the New Yorker a huggermugger with his money. He does not hide up his dollars in old stockings

and keep rolls of gold in hidden pots. He does not even invest it where it will not grow but only produce

small though sure fruit. He builds houses, he speculates largely, he spreads himself in trade to the extent of

his wingsand not seldom somewhat farther. He scatters his wealth broadcast over strange fields, trusting

that it may grow with an increase of a hundredfold, but bold to bear the loss should the strange field prove

itself barren. His regret at losing his money is by no means commensurate with his desire to make it. In this

there is a living spirit which to me divests the dollarworshiping idolatry of something of its ugliness. The

hand when closed on the gold is instantly reopened. The idolator is anxious to get, but he is anxious also to

spend. He is energetic to the last, and has no comfort with his stock unless it breeds with Transatlantic

So much I say, being anxious to scrape off some of that daub of black paint with which I have smeared the

face of my New Yorker; but not desiring to scrape it all off. For myself, I do not love to live amid the clink of

gold, and never have "a good time," as the Americans say, when the price of shares and percentages come up

in conversation. That state of men's minds here which I have endeavored to explain tends, I think, to make

New York disagreeable. A stranger there who has no great interest in percentages soon finds himself anxious

to escape. By degrees he perceives that he is out of his element, and had better go away. He calls at the bank,

and when he shows himself ignorant as to the price at which his sovereigns should be done, he is conscious

that he is ridiculous. He is like a man who goes out hunting for the first time at forty years of age. He feels

himself to be in the wrong place, and is anxious to get out of it. Such was my experience of New York, at

But yet, I say again, no other American city is so intensely American as New York. It is generally considered

that the inhabitants of New England, the Yankees properly so called, have the American characteristics of

physiognomy in the fullest degree. The lantern jaws, the thin and lithe body, the dry face on which there has

been no tint of the rose since the baby's longclothes were first abandoned, the harsh, thick hair, the thin lips,

the intelligent eyes, the sharp voice with the nasal twangnot altogether harsh, though sharp and nasalall

these traits are supposed to belong especially to the Yankee. Perhaps it was so once, but at present they are, I

think, more universally common in New York than in any other part of the States. Go to Wall Street, the front

of the Astor House, and the regions about Trinity Church, and you will find them in their fullest perfection.

What circumstances of blood or food, of early habit or subsequent education, have created for the latterday

American his present physiognomy? It is as completely marked, as much his own, as is that of any race under

the sun that has bred in and in for centuries. But the American owns a more mixed blood than any other race

known. The chief stock is English, which is itself so mixed that no man can trace its ramifications. With this

are mingled the bloods of Ireland, Holland, France, Sweden, and Germany. All this has been done within but

a few years, so that the American may be said to have no claim to any national type of face. Nevertheless, no

man has a type of face so clearly national as the American. He is acknowledged by it all over the continent of

Europe, and on his own side of the water is gratified by knowing that he is never mistaken for his English

visitor. I think it comes from the hot air pipes and from dollar worship. In the Jesuit his mode of dealing

with things divine has given a peculiar cast of countenance; and why should not the American be similarly

moulded by his special aspirations? As to the hotair pipes, there can, I think, be no doubt that to them is to

be charged the murder of all rosy cheeks throughout the States. If the effect was to be noticed simply in the

dry faces of the men about Wall Street, I should be very indifferent to the matter. But the young ladies of

Fifth Avenue are in the same category. The very pith and marrow of life is baked out of their young bones by

the hotair chambers to which they are accustomed. Hot air is the great destroyer of American beauty.

In saying that there is very little to be seen in New York I have also said that there is no way of seeing that

little. My assertion amounts to this; that there are no cabs. To the reading world at large this may not seem to

be much, but let the reading world go to New York, and it will find out how much the deficiency means. In

London, in Paris, in Florence, in Rome, in the Havana, or at Grand Cairo, the cabdriver or attendant does

not merely drive the cab or belabor the donkey, but he is the visitor's easiest and cheapest guide. In London,

the Tower, Westminster Abbey, and Madame Tussaud are found by the stranger without difficulty, and

almost without a thought, because the cabdriver knows the whereabouts and the way. Space is moreover

annihilated, and the huge distances of the English metropolis are brought within the scope of mortal power.

In New York there are street omnibuses as we havethere are street cars such as last year we declined to

have, and there are very excellent public carriages; but none of these give you the accommodation of a cab,

nor can all of them combined do so. The omnibuses, though clean and excellent, were to me very

unintelligible. They have no conductor to them. To know their different lines and usages a man should have

made a scientific study of the city. To those going up and down Broadway I became accustomed, but in them

I was never quite at my ease. The money has to be paid through a little hole behind the driver's back, and

should, as I learned at last, be paid immediately on entrance. But in getting up to do this I always stumbled

about, and it would happen that when with considerable difficulty I had settled my own account, two or three

ladies would enter, and would hand me, without a word, some coins with which I had no lifelong

familiarity, in order that I might go through the same ceremony on their account. The change I would usually

drop into the straw, and then there would arise trouble and unhappiness. Before I became aware of that law as

to instant payment, bells used to be rung at me, which made me uneasy. I knew I was not behaving as a

citizen should behave, but could not compass the exact points of my delinquency. And then, when I desired to

escape, the door being strapped up tight, I would halloo vainly at the driver through the little hole; whereas,

had I known my duty, I should have rung a bell, or pulled a strap, according to the nature of the omnibus in

question. In a month or two all these things may possibly be learned; but the visitor requires his facilities for

locomotion at the first moment of his entrance into the city. I heard it asserted by a lecturer in Boston, Mr.

Wendell Phillips, whose name is there a household word, that citizens of the United States carried brains in

their fingers as well as in their heads; whereas "common people," by which Mr. Phillips intended to designate

the remnant of mankind beyond the United States, were blessed with no such extended cerebral development.

Having once learned this fact from Mr. Phillips, I understood why it was that a New York omnibus should be

so disagreeable to me, and at the same time so suitable to the wants of the New Yorkers.

And then there are street carsvery long omnibuseswhich run on rails but are dragged by horses. They

are capable of holding forty passengers each, and as far as my experience goes carry an average load of sixty.

The fare of the omnibus is six cents, or three pence. That of the street car five cents, or two pence halfpenny.

They run along the different avenues, taking the length of the city. In the upper or new part of the town their

course is simple enough, but as they descend to the Bowery, Peck Slip, and Pearl Street, nothing can be

conceived more difficult or devious than their courses. The Broadway omnibus, on the other hand, is a

straightforward, honest vehicle in the lower part of the town, becoming, however, dangerous and

miscellaneous when it ascends to Union Square and the vicinities of fashionable life.

The street cars are manned with conductors, and, therefore, are free from many of the perils of the omnibus;

but they have perils of their own. They are always quite full. By that I mean that every seat is crowded, that

there is a double row of men and women standing down the center, and that the driver's platform in front is

full, and also the conductor's platform behind. That is the normal condition of a street car in the Third

Avenue. You, as a stranger in the middle of the car, wish to be put down at, let us say, 89th Street. In the map

of New York now before me, the cross streets running from east to west are numbered up northward as far as

154th Street. It is quite useless for you to give the number as you enter. Even an American conductor, with

brains all over him, and an anxious desire to accommodate, as is the case with all these men, cannot

remember. You are left therefore in misery to calculate the number of the street as you move along, vainly

endeavoring through the misty glass to decipher the small numbers which after a day or two you perceive to

But I soon gave up all attempts at keeping a seat in one of these cars. It became my practice to sit down on

the outside iron rail behind, and as the conductor generally sat in my lap I was in a measure protected. As for

the inside of these vehicles the women of New York were, I must confess, too much for me. I would no

sooner place myself on a seat, than I would be called on by a mute, unexpressive, but still impressive stare

into my face, to surrender my place. From cowardice if not from gallantry I would always obey; and as this

led to discomfort and an irritated spirit, I preferred nursing the conductor on the hard bar in the rear.

And here if I seem to say a word against women in America, I beg that it may be understood that I say that

word only against a certain class; and even as to that class I admit that they are respectable, intelligent, and,

as I believe, industrious. Their manners, however, are to me more odious than those of any other human

beings that I ever met elsewhere. Nor can I go on with that which I have to say without carrying my apology

further, lest, perchance, I should be misunderstood by some American women whom I would not only

exclude from my censure, but would include in the very warmest eulogium which words of mine could

express as to those of the female sex whom I love and admire the most. I have known, do know, and mean to

continue to know as far as in me may lie, American ladies as bright, as beautiful, as graceful, as sweet, as

mortal limits for brightness, beauty, grace, and sweetness will permit. They belong to the aristocracy of the

land, by whatever means they may have become aristocrats. In America one does not inquire as to their birth,

their training, or their old names. The fact of their aristocratic power comes out in every word and look. It is

not only so with those who have traveled or with those who are rich. I have found female aristocrats with

families and slender means, who have as yet made no grand tour across the ocean. These women are

charming beyond expression. It is not only their beauty. Had he been speaking of such, Wendell Phillips

would have been right in saying that they have brains all over them. So much for those who are bright and

beautiful, who are graceful and sweet! And now a word as to those who to me are neither bright nor beautiful,

It is a hard task, that of speaking ill of any woman; but it seems to me that he who takes upon himself to

praise incurs the duty of dispraising also where dispraise is, or to him seems to be, deserved. The trade of a

novelist is very much that of describing the softness, sweetness, and loving dispositions of women; and this

he does, copying as best he can from nature. But if he only sings of that which is sweet, whereas that which is

not sweet too frequently presents itself, his song will in the end be untrue and ridiculous. Women are entitled

to much observance from men, but they are entitled to no observance which is incompatible with truth.

Women, by the conventional laws of society, are allowed to exact much from men, but they are allowed to

exact nothing for which they should not make some adequate return. It is well that a man should kneel in

spirit before the grace and weakness of a woman, but it is not well that he should kneel either in spirit or body

if there be neither grace nor weakness. A man should yield everything to a woman for a word, for a

smileto one look of entreaty. But if there be no look of entreaty, no word, no smile, I do not see that he is

The happy privileges with which women are at present blessed have come to them from the spirit of chivalry.

That spirit has taught man to endure in order that women may be at their ease; and has generally taught

women to accept the ease bestowed on them with grace and thankfulness. But in America the spirit of

chivalry has sunk deeper among men than it has among women. It must be borne in mind that in that country

material wellbeing and education are more extended than with us; and that, therefore, men there have

learned to be chivalrous who with us have hardly progressed so far. The conduct of men to women

throughout the States is always gracious. They have learned the lesson. But it seems to me that the women

have not advanced as far as the men have done. They have acquired a sufficient perception of the privileges

which chivalry gives them, but no perception of that return which chivalry demands from them. Women of

the class to which I allude are always talking of their rights, but seem to have a most indifferent idea of their

duties. They have no scruple at demanding from men everything that a man can be called on to relinquish in a

woman's behalf, but they do so without any of that grace which turns the demand made into a favor

I have seen much of this in various cities of America, but much more of it in New York than elsewhere. I

have heard young Americans complain of it, swearing that they must change the whole tenor of their habits

toward women. I have heard American ladies speak of it with loathing and disgust. For myself, I have

entertained on sundry occasions that sort of feeling for an American woman which the close vicinity of an

unclean animal produces. I have spoken of this with reference to street cars, because in no position of life

does an unfortunate man become more liable to these antifeminine atrocities than in the center of one of

these vehicles. The woman, as she enters, drags after her a misshapen, dirty mass of battered wirework,

which she calls her crinoline, and which adds as much to her grace and comfort as a log of wood does to a

donkey when tied to the animal's leg in a paddock. Of this she takes much heed, not managing it so that it

may be conveyed up the carriage with some decency, but striking it about against men's legs, and heaving it

with violence over people's knees. The touch of a real woman's dress is in itself delicate; but these blows

from a harpy's fins are as loathsome as a snake's slime. If there be two of them they talk loudly together,

having a theory that modesty has been put out of court by women's rights. But, though not modest, the

woman I describe is ferocious in her propriety. She ignores the whole world around her as she sits; with a

raised chin and face flattened by affectation, she pretends to declare aloud that she is positively not aware that

any man is even near her. She speaks as though to her, in her womanhood, the neighborhood of men was the

same as that of dogs or cats. They are there, but she does not hear them, see them, or even acknowledge them

by any courtesy of motion. But her own face always gives her the lie. In her assumption of indifference she

displays her nasty consciousness, and in each attempt at a wouldbe propriety is guilty of an immodesty.

Who does not know the timid retiring face of the young girl who when alone among men unknown to her

feels that it becomes her to keep herself secluded? As many men as there are around her, so many knights has

such a one, ready bucklered for her service, should occasion require such services. Should it not, she passes

on unmolestedbut not, as she herself will wrongly think, unheeded. But as to her of whom I am speaking,

we may say that every twist of her body and every tone of her voice is an unsuccessful falsehood. She looks

square at you in the face, and you rise to give her your seat. You rise from a deference to your own old

convictions, and from that courtesy which you have ever paid to a woman's dress, let it be worn with ever

such hideous deformities. She takes the place from which you have moved without a word or a bow. She

twists herself round, banging your shins with her wires, while her chin is still raised, and her face is still

flattened, and she directs her friend's attention to another seated man, as though that place were also vacant,

and necessarily at her disposure. Perhaps the man opposite has his own ideas about chivalry. I have seen such

You will meet these women daily, hourly, everywhere in the streets. Now and again you will find them in

society, making themselves even more odious there than elsewhere. Who they are, whence they come, and

why they are so unlike that other race of women of which I have spoken, you will settle for yourself. Do we

not all say of our chance acquaintances, after half an hour's conversation, nay, after half an hour spent in the

same room without conversation, that this woman is a lady, and that that other woman is not? They jostle

each other even among us, but never seem to mix. They are closely allied; but neither imbues the other with

her attributes. Both shall be equally well born, or both shall be equally ill born; but still it is so. The contrast

exists in England; but in America it is much stronger. In England women become ladylike or vulgar. In the

See that female walking down Broadway. She is not exactly such a one as her I have attempted to describe on

her entrance into the street car; for this lady is well dressed, if fine clothes will make well dressing. The

machinery of her hoops is not battered, and altogether she is a personage much more distinguished in all her

expenditures. But yet she is a copy of the other woman. Look at the train which she drags behind her over the

dirty pavement, where dogs have been, and chewers of tobacco, and everything concerned with filth except a

scavenger. At every hundred yards some unhappy man treads upon the silken swab which she trails behind

herloosening it dreadfully at the girth one would say; and then see the style of face and the expression of

features with which she accepts the sinner's half muttered apology. The world, she supposes, owes her

everything because of her silken train, even room enough in a crowded thoroughfare to drag it along

unmolested. But, according to her theory, she owes the world nothing in return. She is a woman with perhaps

a hundred dollars on her back, and having done the world the honor of wearing them in the world's presence,

expects to be repaid by the world's homage and chivalry. But chivalry owes her nothingnothing, though

she walk about beneath a hundred times a hundred dollarsnothing, even though she be a woman. Let every

woman learn this, that chivalry owes her nothing unless she also acknowledges her debt to chivalry. She must

acknowledge it and pay it; and then chivalry will not be backward in making good her claims upon it.

All this has come of the street cars. But as it was necessary that I should say it somewhere, it is as well said

on that subject as on any other. And now to continue with the street cars. They run, as I have said, the length

of the town, taking parallel lines. They will take you from the Astor House, near the bottom of the town, for

miles and miles northwardhalf way up the Hudson Riverfor, I believe, five pence. They are very slow,

averaging about five miles an hour; but they are very sure. For regular inhabitants, who have to travel five or

six miles perhaps to their daily work, they are excellent. I have nothing really to say against the street cars.

There are, however, public carriagesroomy vehicles, dragged by two horses, clean and nice, and very well

suited to ladies visiting the city. But they have none of the attributes of the cab. As a rule, they are not to be

found standing about. They are very slow. They are very dear. A dollar an hour is the regular charge; but one

cannot regulate one's motion by the hour. Going out to dinner and back costs two dollars, over a distance

which in London would cost two shillings. As a rule, the cost is four times that of a cab, and the rapidity half

that of a cab. Under these circumstances, I think I am justified in saying that there is no mode of getting about

And now as to the other charge against New York, of there being nothing to see. How should there be

anything there to see of general interest? In other large citiescities as large in name as New Yorkthere

are works of art, fine buildings, ruins, ancient churches, picturesque costumes, and the tombs of celebrated

men. But in New York there are none of these things. Art has not yet grown up there. One or two fine figures

by Crawford are in the town, especially that of the Sorrowing Indian, at the rooms of the Historical Society;

but art is a luxury in a city which follows but slowly on the heels of wealth and civilization. Of fine

buildings which, indeed, are comprised in artthere are none deserving special praise or remark. It might

well have been that New York should ere this have graced herself with something grand in architecture; but

she has not done so. Some good architectural effect there is, and much architectural comfort. Of ruins, of

course, there can be nonenone, at least, of such ruins as travelers admire, though perhaps some of that sort

which disgraces rather than decorates. Churches there are plenty, but none that are ancient. The costume is

the same as our own; and I need hardly say that it is not picturesque. And the time for the tombs of celebrated

men has not yet come. A great man's ashes are hardly of value till they have all but ceased to exist.

The visitor to New York must seek his gratification and obtain his instruction from the habits and manners of

men. The American, though he dresses like an Englishman, and eats roast beef with a silver forkor

sometimes with a steel knifeas does an Englishman, is not like an Englishman in his mind, in his

aspirations, in his tastes, or in his politics. In his mind he is quicker, more universally intelligent, more

ambitious of general knowledge, less indulgent of stupidity and ignorance in others, harder, sharper, brighter

with the surface brightness of steel, than is an Englishman; but he is more brittle, less enduring, less

malleable, and, I think, less capable of impressions. The mind of the Englishman has more imagination, but

that of the American more incision. The American is a great observer; but he observes things material rather

than things social or picturesque. He is a constant and ready speculator; but all speculations, even those which

come of philosophy, are with him more or less material. In his aspirations the American is more constant than

an Englishman or I should rather say he is more constant in aspiring. Every citizen of the United States

intends to do something. Every one thinks himself capable of some effort. But in his aspirations he is more

limited than an Englishman. The ambitious American never soars so high as the ambitious Englishman. He

does not even see up to so great a height, and, when he has raised himself somewhat above the crowd,

becomes sooner dizzy with his own altitude. An American of mark, though always anxious to show his mark,

is always fearful of a fall. In his tastes the American imitates the Frenchman. Who shall dare to say that he is

wrong, seeing that in general matters of design and luxury the French have won for themselves the foremost

name? I will not say that the American is wrong, but I cannot avoid thinking that he is so. I detest what is

called French taste; but the world is against me. When I complained to a landlord of a hotel out in the West

that his furniture was useless; that I could not write at a marble table whose outside rim was curved into

fantastic shapes; that a gold clock in my bedroom which did not go would give me no aid in washing

myself; that a heavy, immovable curtain shut out the light; and that papiermache chairs with small, fluffy

velvet seats were bad to sit on, he answered me completely by telling me that his house had been furnished

not in accordance with the taste of England, but with that of France. I acknowledged the rebuke, gave up my

pursuits of literature and cleanliness, and hurried out of the house as quickly as I could. All America is now

furnishing itself by the rules which guided that hotelkeeper. I do not merely allude to actual household

furnitureto chairs, tables, and detestable gilt clocks. The taste of America is becoming French in its

conversation, French in its comforts and French in its discomforts, French in its eating and French in its

dress, French in its manners, and will become French in its art. There are those who will say that English taste

is taking the same direction. I do not think so. I strongly hope that it is not so. And therefore I say that an

But of all differences between an Englishman and an American, that in politics is the strongest and the most

essential. I cannot here, in one paragraph, define that difference with sufficient clearness to make my

definition satisfactory; but I trust that some idea of that difference may be conveyed by the general tenor of

my book. The American and the Englishman are both republicans. The governments of the States and of

England are probably the two purest republican governments in the world. I do not, of course, here mean to

say that the governments are more pure than others, but that the systems are more absolutely republican. And

yet no men can be much farther asunder in politics than the Englishman and the American. The American of

the present day puts a ballotbox into the hands of every citizen, and takes his stand upon that and that only.

It is the duty of an American citizen to vote; and when he has voted, he need trouble himself no further till the

time for voting shall come round again. The candidate for whom he has voted represents his will, if he have

voted with the majority; and in that case he has no right to look for further influence. If he have voted with

the minority, he has no right to look for any influence at all. In either case he has done his political work, and

may go about his business till the next year, or the next two or four years, shall have come round. The

Englishman, on the other hand, will have no ballotbox, and is by no means inclined to depend exclusively

upon voters or upon voting. As far as voting can show it, he desires to get the sense of the country; but he

does not think that that sense will be shown by universal suffrage. He thinks that property amounting to a

thousand pounds will show more of that sense than property amounting to a hundred; but he will not, on that

account, go to work and apportion votes to wealth. He thinks that the educated can show more of that sense

than the uneducated; but he does not therefore lay down any rule about reading, writing, and arithmetic, or

apportion votes to learning. He prefers that all these opinions of his shall bring themselves out and operate by

their own intrinsic weight. Nor does he at all confine himself to voting, in his anxiety to get the sense of the

country. He takes it in any way that it will show itself, uses it for what it is worth, or perhaps far more than it

is worth, and welds it into that gigantic lever by which the political action of the country is moved. Every

man in Great Britain, whether he possesses any actual vote or no, can do that which is tantamount to voting

every day of his life by the mere expression of his opinion. Public opinion in America has hitherto been

nothing, unless it has managed to express itself by a majority of ballotboxes. Public opinion in England is

everything, let votes go as they may. Let the people want a measure, and there is no doubt of their obtaining

it. Only the people must want itas they did want Catholic emancipation, reform, and cornlaw repeal, and

as they would want war if it were brought home to them that their country was insulted.

In attempting to describe this difference in the political action of the two countries, I am very far from taking

all praise for England or throwing any reproach on the States. The political action of the States is undoubtedly

the more logical and the clearer. That, indeed, of England is so illogical and so little clear that it would be

quite impossible for any other nation to assume it, merely by resolving to do so. Whereas the political action

of the States might be assumed by any nation tomorrow, and all its strength might be carried across the

water in a few written rules as are the prescriptions of a physician or the regulations of an infirmary. With us

the thing has grown of habit, has been fostered by tradition, has crept up uncared for, and in some parts

unnoticed. It can be written in no book, can be described in no words, can be copied by no statesmen, and I

almost believe can be understood by no people but that to whose peculiar uses it has been adapted.

In speaking as I have here done of American taste and American politics, I must allude to a special class of

Americans who are to be met more generally in New York than elsewheremen who are educated, who

have generally traveled, who are almost always agreeable, but who, as regards their politics, are to me the

most objectionable of all men. As regards taste they are objectionable to me also. But that is a small thing;

and as they are quite as likely to be right as I am, I will say nothing against their taste. But in politics it seems

to me that these men have fallen into the bitterest and perhaps into the basest of errors. Of the man who

begins his life with mean political ideas, having sucked them in with his mother's milk, there may be some

hope. The evil is at any rate the fault of his forefathers rather than of himself. But who can have hope of him

who, having been thrown by birth and fortune into the running river of free political activity, has allowed

himself to be drifted into the stagnant level of general political servility? There are very many such

Americans. They call themselves republicans, and sneer at the idea of a limited monarchy, but they declare

that there is no republic so safe, so equal for all men, so purely democratic as that now existing in France.

Under the French Empire all men are equal. There is no aristocracy; no oligarchy; no overshadowing of the

little by the great. One superior is admittedadmitted on earth, as a superior is also admitted in heaven.

Under him everything is level, and, provided he be not impeded, everything is free. He knows how to rule,

and the nation, allowing him the privilege of doing so, can go along its course safely; can eat, drink, and be

merry. If few men can rise high, so also can few men fall low. Political equality is the one thing desirable in a

commonwealth, and by this arrangement political equality is obtained. Such is the modern creed of many an

To me it seems that such a political state is about the vilest to which a man can descend. It amounts to a tacit

abandonment of the struggle which men are making for political truth and political beneficence, in order that

bread and meat may be eaten in peace during the score of years or so that are at the moment passing over us.

The politicians of this class have decided for themselves that the summum bonum is to be found in bread and

the circus games. If they be free to eat, free to rest, free to sleep, free to drink little cups of coffee, while the

world passes before them, on a boulevard, they have that freedom which they covet. But equality is necessary

as well as freedom. There must be no towering trees in this parterre to overshadow the clipped shrubs, and

destroy the uniformity of a growth which should never mount more than two feet above the earth. The

equality of this politician would forbid any to rise above him instead of inviting all to rise up to him. It is the

equality of fear and of selfishness, and not the equality of courage and philanthropy. And brotherhood, too,

must be invoked fraternity as we may better call it in the jargon of the school. Such politicians tell one

much of fraternity, and define it too. It consists in a general raising of the hat to all mankind; in a daily walk

that never hurries itself into a jostling trot, inconvenient to passengers on the pavement; in a placid voice, a

soft smile, and a small cup of coffee on a boulevard. It means all this, but I could never find that it meant any

more. There is a nation for which one is almost driven to think that such political aspirations as these are

And yet one finds many American gentlemen who have allowed themselves to be drifted into such a theory.

They have begun the world as republican citizens, and as such they must go on. But in their travels and their

studies, and in the luxury of their life, they have learned to dislike the rowdiness of their country's politics.

They want things to be soft and easy; as republican as you please, but with as little noise as possible. The

President is there for four years. Why not elect him for eight, for twelve, or for life?for eternity if it were

possible to find one who could continue to live? It is to this way of thinking that Americans are driven, when

the polish of Europe has made the roughness of their own elections odious to them.

"Have you seen any of our great institootions, sir?" That of course is a question which is put to every

Englishman who has visited New York, and the Englishman who intends to say that he has seen New York,

should visit many of them. I went to schools, hospitals, lunatic asylums, institutes for deaf and dumb, water

works, historical societies, telegraph offices, and large commercial establishments. I rather think that I did my

work in a thorough and conscientious manner, and I owe much gratitude to those who guided me on such

occasions. Perhaps I ought to describe all these institutions; but were I to do so, I fear that I should inflict

fifty or sixty very dull pages on my readers. If I could make all that I saw as clear and intelligible to others as

it was made to me who saw it, I might do some good. But I know that I should fail. I marveled much at the

developed intelligence of a room full of deaf and dumb pupils, and was greatly astonished at the performance

of one special girl, who seemed to be brighter and quicker, and more rapidly easy with her pen than girls

generally are who can hear and talk; but I cannot convey my enthusiasm to others. On such a subject a writer

may be correct, may be exhaustive, may be statistically great; but he can hardly be entertaining, and the

In all such matters, however, New York is preeminently great. All through the States suffering humanity

receives so much attention that humanity can hardly be said to suffer. The daily recurring boast of "our

glorious institootions, sir," always provokes the ridicule of an Englishman. The words have become

ridiculous, and it would, I think, be well for the nation if the term "Institution" could be excluded from its

vocabulary. But, in truth, they are glorious. The country in this respect boasts, but it has done that which

justifies a boast. The arrangements for supplying New York with water are magnificent. The drainage of the

new part of the city is excellent. The hospitals are almost alluring. The lunatic asylum which I saw was

perfectthough I did not feel obliged to the resident physician for introducing me to all the worst patients as

countrymen of my own. "An English lady, Mr. Trollope. I'll introduce you. Quite a hopeless case. Two old

women. They've been here fifty years. They're English. Another gentleman from England, Mr. Trollope. A

And as to the schools, it is almost impossible to mention them with too high a praise. I am speaking here

specially of New York, though I might say the same of Boston, or of all New England. I do not know any

contrast that would be more surprising to an Englishman, up to that moment ignorant of the matter, than that

which he would find by visiting first of all a free school in London, and then a free school in New York. If he

would also learn the number of children that are educated gratuitously in each of the two cities, and also the

number in each which altogether lack education, he would, if susceptible of statistics, be surprised also at

that. But seeing and hearing are always more effective than mere figures. The female pupil at a free school in

London is, as a rule, either a ragged pauper or a charity girl, if not degraded, at least stigmatized by the

badges and dress of the charity. We Englishmen know well the type of each, and have a fairly correct idea of

the amount of education which is imparted to them. We see the result afterward when the same girls become

our servants, and the wives of our grooms and porters. The female pupil at a free school in New York is

neither a pauper nor a charity girl. She is dressed with the utmost decency. She is perfectly cleanly. In

speaking to her, you cannot in any degree guess whether her father has a dollar a day, or three thousand

dollars a year. Nor will you be enabled to guess by the manner in which her associates treat her. As regards

her own manner to you, it is always the same as though her father were in all respects your equal. As to the

amount of her knowledge, I fairly confess that it is terrific. When in the first room which I visited, a slight,

slim creature was had up before me to explain to me the properties of the hypothenuse, I fairly confess that,

as regards education, I backed down, and that I resolved to confine my criticisms to manner, dress, and

general behavior. In the next room I was more at my ease, finding that ancient Roman history was on the

tapis. "Why did the Romans run away with the Sabine women asked the mistress, herself a young woman of

about three and twenty. "Because they were pretty," simpered out a little girl with a cherry mouth. The

answer did not give complete satisfaction, and then followed a somewhat abstruse explanation on the subject

of population. It was all done with good faith and a serious intent, and showed what it was intended to

showthat the girls there educated had in truth reached the consideration of important subjects, and that they

were leagues beyond that terrible repetition of A B C, to which, I fear, that most of our free metropolitan

schools are still necessarily confined. You and I, reader, were we called on to superintend the education of

girls of sixteen, might not select, as favorite points either the hypothenuse or the ancient methods of

populating young colonies. There may be, and to us on the European side of the Atlantic there will be, a

certain amount of absurdity in the Transatlantic idea that all knowledge is knowledge, and that it should be

imparted if it be not knowledge of evil. But as to the general result, no fairminded man or woman can have

a doubt. That the lads and girls in these schools are excellently educated, comes home as a fact to the mind of

any one who will look into the subject. That girl could not have got as fair at the hypothenuse without a

competent and abiding knowledge of much that is very far beyond the outside limits of what such girls know

with us. It was at least manifest in the other examination that the girls knew as well as I did who were the

Romans, and who were the Sabine women. That all this is of use, was shown in the very gestures and

bearings of the girl. Emollit mores, as Colonel Newcombe used to say. That young woman whom I had

watched while she cooked her husband's dinner upon the banks of the Mississippi had doubtless learned all

about the Sabine women, and I feel assured that she cooked her husband's dinner all the better for that

knowledgeand faced the hardships of the world with a better front than she would have done had she been

In order to make a comparison between the schools of London and those of New York, I have called them

both free schools. They are, in fact, more free in New York than they are in London; because in New York

every boy and girl, let his parentage be what it may, can attend these schools without any payment. Thus an

education as good as the American mind can compass, prepared with every care, carried on by highlypaid

tutors, under ample surveillance, provided with all that is most excellent in the way of rooms, desks, books,

charts, maps, and implements, is brought actually within the reach of everybody. I need not point out to

Englishmen how different is the nature of schools in London. It must not, however, be supposed that these are

charity schools. Such is not their nature. Let us say what we may as to the beauty of charity as a virtue, the

recipient of charity in its customary sense among us is ever more or less degraded by the position. In the

States that has been fully understood, and the schools to which I allude are carefully preserved from any such

taint. Throughout the States a separate tax is levied for the maintenance of these schools, and as the taxpayer

supports them, he is, of course, entitled to the advantage which they confer. The child of the nontaxpayer is

also entitled, and to him the boon, if strictly analyzed, will come in the shape of a charity. But under the

system as it is arranged, this is not analyzed. It is understood that the school is open to all in the ward to

which it belongs, and no inquiry is made whether the pupil's parent has or has not paid anything toward the

school's support. I found this theory carried out so far that at the deaf and dumb school, where some of the

poorer children are wholly provided by the institution, care is taken to clothe them in dresses of different

colors and different make, in order that nothing may attach to them which has the appearance of a badge.

Political economists will see something of evil in this. But philanthropists will see very much that is good.

It is not without a purpose that I have given this somewhat glowing account of a girls' school in New York so

soon after my little picture of New York women, as they behave themselves in the streets and street cars. It

will, of course, be said that those women of whom I have spoken, by no means in terms of admiration, are the

very girls whose education has been so excellent. This of course is so; but I beg to remark that I have by no

means said that an excellent school education will produce all female excellencies. The fact, I take it, is this:

that seeing how high in the scale these girls have been raised, one is anxious that they should be raised

higher. One is surprised at their pert vulgarity and hideous airs, not because they are so low in our general

estimation, but because they are so high. Women of the same class in London are humble enough, and

therefore rarely offend us who are squeamish. They show by their gestures that they hardly think themselves

good enough to sit by us; they apologize for their presence; they conceive it to be their duty to be lowly in

their gesture. The question is which is best, the crouching and crawling, or the impudent, unattractive

selfcomposure. Not, my reader, which action on her part may the better conduce to my comfort or to yours.

That is by no means the question. Which is the better for the woman herself? That, I take it, is the point to be

decided. That there is something better than either, we shall all agreebut to my thinking the crouching and

At that school I saw some five or six hundred girls collected in one room, and heard them sing. The singing

was very pretty, and it was all very nice; but I own that I was rather startled, and to tell the truth somewhat

abashed, when I was invited to "say a few words to them." No idea of such a suggestion had dawned upon

me, and I felt myself quite at a loss. To be called up before five hundred men is bad enough, but how much

worse before that number of girls! What could I say but that they were all very pretty? As far as I can

remember, I did say that and nothing else. Very pretty they were, and neatly dressed, and attractive; but

among them all there was not a pair of rosy cheeks. How should there be, when every room in the building

In England a taste for very large shops has come up during the last twenty years. A firm is not doing a good

business, or at any rate a distinguished business, unless he can assert in his trade card that he occupies at least

half a dozen housesNos. 105, 106, 107, 108, 109 and 110. The old way of paying for what you want over

the counter is gone; and when you buy a yard of tape or a new carriage for either of which articles you will

probably visit the same establishmentyou go through about the same amount of ceremony as when you sell

a thousand pounds out of the stocks in propria persona. But all this is still further exaggerated in New York.

Mr. Stewart's store there is perhaps the handsomest institution in the city, and his hall of audience for new

carpets is a magnificent saloon. "You have nothing like that in England," my friend said to me as he walked

me through it in triumph. "I wish we had nothing approaching to it," I answered. For I confess to a liking for

the oldfashioned private shops. Harper's establishment for the manufacture and sale of books is also very

wonderful. Everything is done on the premises, down to the very coloring of the paper which lines the covers,

and places the gilding on their backs. The firm prints, engraves, electroplates, sews, binds, publishes, and

sells wholesale and retail. I have no doubt that the authors have rooms in the attics where the other slight

New York is built upon an island, which is I believe about ten miles long, counting from the southern point at

the Battery up to Carmansville, to which place the city is presumed to extend northward. This island is called

Manhattan, a name which I have always thought would have been more graceful for the city than that of New

York. It is formed by the Sound or East River, which divides the continent from Long Island by the Hudson

River, which runs into the Sound, or rather joins it at the city foot, and by a small stream called the Harlem

River, which runs out of the Hudson and meanders away into the Sound at the north of the city, thus cutting

the city off from the mainland. The breadth of the island does not much exceed two miles, and therefore the

city is long, and not capable of extension in point of breadth. In its old days it clustered itself round about the

Point, and stretched itself up from there along the quays of the two waters. The streets down in this part of the

town are devious enough, twisting themselves about with delightful irregularity; but as the city grew there

came the taste for parallelograms, and the upper streets are rectangular and numbered. Broadway, the street of

New York with which the world is generally best acquainted, begins at the southern point of the town and

goes northward through it. For some two miles and a half it walks away in a straight line, and then it turns to

the left toward the Hudson. From that time Broadway never again takes a straight course, but crosses the

various avenues in an oblique direction till it becomes the Bloomingdale Road, and under that name takes

itself out of town. There are eleven socalled avenues, which descend in absolutely straight lines from the

northern, and at present unsettled, extremity of the new town, making their way southward till they lose

themselves among the old streets. These are called First Avenue, Second Avenue, and so on. The town had

already progressed two miles up northward from the Battery before it had caught the parallelogramic fever

from Philadelphia, for at about that distance we find "First Street". First Street runs across the avenues from

water to water, and then Second Street. I will not name them all, seeing that they go up to 154th Street! They

do so at least on the map and I believe on the lampposts. But the houses are not yet built in order beyond

50th or 60th Street. The other hundred streets, each of two miles long, with the avenues, which are mostly

unoccupied for four or five miles, is the ground over which the young New Yorkers are to spread themselves.

I do not in the least doubt that they will occupy it all, and that 154th Street will find itself too narrow a

I have said that there was some good architectural effect in New York, and I alluded chiefly to that of the

Fifth Avenue. The Fifth Avenue is the Belgrave Square, the Park Lane, and the Pall Mall of New York. It is

certainly a very fine street. The houses in it are magnificentnot having that aristocratic look which some of

our detached London residences enjoy, or the palatial appearance of an oldfashioned hotel in Paris, but an

air of comfortable luxury and commercial wealth which is not excelled by the best houses of any other town

that I know. They are houses, not hotels or palaces; but they are very roomy houses, with every luxury that

complete finish can give them. Many of them cover large spaces of the ground, and their rent will sometimes

go up as high as 800 pounds and 1000 pounds a year. Generally the best of these houses are owned by those

who live in them, and rent is not, therefore, paid. But this is not always the case, and the sums named above

may be taken as expressing their value. In England a man should have a very large income indeed who could

afford to pay 1000 pounds a year for his house in London. Such a one would as a matter of course have an

establishment in the country, and be an earl, or a duke, or a millionaire. But it is different in New York. The

resident there shows his wealth chiefly by his house; and though he may probably have a villa at Newport or

a box somewhere up the Hudson, he has no second establishment. Such a house, therefore, will not represent

There are churches on each side of Fifth Avenueperhaps five or six within sight at one timewhich add

much to the beauty of the street. They are well built, and in fairly good taste. These, added to the general

wellbeing and splendid comfort of the place, give it an effect better than the architecture of the individual

houses would seem to warrant. I own that I have enjoyed the vista as I have walked up and down Fifth

Avenue, and have felt that the city had a right to be proud of its wealth. But the greatness and beauty and

glory of wealth have on such occasions been all in all with me. I know no great man, no celebrated statesman,

no philanthropist of peculiar note who has lived in Fifth Avenue. That gentleman on the right made a million

of dollars by inventing a shirt collar; this one on the left electrified the world by a lotion; as to the gentleman

at the corner there, there are rumors about him and the Cuban slave trade but my informant by no means

knows that they are true. Such are the aristocracy of Fifth Avenue, I can only say that, if I could make a

million dollars by a lotion, I should certainly be right to live in such a house as one of those.

The suburbs of New York are, by the nature of the localities, divided from the city by water. Jersey City and

Hoboken are on the other side of the Hudson, and in another State. Williamsburg and Brooklyn are on Long

Island, which is a part of the State of New York. But these places are as easily reached as Lambeth is reached

from Westminster. Steam ferries ply every three or four minutes; and into these boats coaches, carts, and

wagons of any size or weight are driven. In fact, they make no other stoppage to the commerce than that

occasioned by the payment of a few cents. Such payment, no doubt, is a stoppage; and therefore it is that

Jersey City, Brooklyn, and Williamsburg are, at any rate in appearance, very dull and uninviting. They are,

however, very populous. Many of the quieter citizens prefer to live there; and I am told that the Brooklyn tea

parties consider themselves to be, in esthetic feeling, very much ahead of anything of the kind in the more

opulent centers of the city. In beauty of scenery Staten Island is very much the prettiest of the suburbs of New

York. The view from the hillside in Staten Island down upon New York harbor is very lovely. It is the only

really good view of that magnificent harbor which I have been able to find. As for appreciating such beauty

when one is entering a port from sea or leaving it for sea, I do not believe in any such power. The ship creeps

up or creeps out while the mind is engaged on other matters. The passenger is uneasy either with hopes or

fears, and then the grease of the engines offends one's nostrils. But it is worth the tourist's while to look down

upon New York harbor from the hillside in Staten Island. When I was there Fort Lafayette looked black in the

center of the channel, and we knew that it was crowded with the victims of secession. Fort Tompkins was

being built to guard the passworthy of a name of richer sound; and Fort something else was bristling with

new cannon. Fort Hamilton, on Long Island, opposite, was frowning at us; and immediately around us a

regiment of volunteers was receiving regimental stocks and boots from the hands of its officers. Everything

was bristling with war; and one could not but think that not in this way had New York raised herself so

But the glory of New York is the Central Parkits glory in the minds of all new Yorkers of the present day.

The first question asked of you is whether you have seen the Central Park, and the second is as to what you

think of it. It does not do to say simply that it is fine, grand, beautiful, and miraculous. You must swear by

cock and pie that it is more fine, more grand, more beautiful, more miraculous than anything else of the kind

anywhere. Here you encounter in its most annoying form that necessity for eulogium which presses you

everywhere. For in truth, taken as it is at present, the Central Park is not fine, nor grand, nor beautiful. As to

the miracle, let that pass. It is perhaps as miraculous as some other great latterday miracles.

But the Central Park is a very great fact, and affords a strong additional proof of the sense and energy of the

people. It is very large, being over three miles long and about threequarters of a mile in breadth. When it

was found that New York was extending itself, and becoming one of the largest cities of the world, a space

was selected between Fifth and Seventh Avenues, immediately outside the limits of the city as then built, but

nearly in the center of the city as it is intended to be built. The ground around it became at once of great

value; and I do not doubt that the present fashion of Fifth Avenue about Twentieth Street will in course of

time move itself up to Fifth Avenue as it looks, or will look, over the Park at Seventieth, Eightieth, and

Ninetieth Streets. The great waterworks of the city bring the Croton River, whence New York is supplied,

by an aqueduct over the Harlem River into an enormous reservoir just above the Park; and hence it has come

to pass that there will be water not only for sanitary and useful purposes, but also for ornament. At present the

Park, to English eyes, seems to be all road. The trees are not grown up; and the new embankments, and new

lakes, and new ditches, and new paths give to the place anything but a picturesque appearance. The Central

Park is good for what it will be rather than for what it is. The summer heat is so very great that I doubt much

whether the people of New York will ever enjoy such verdure as our parks show. But there will be a pleasant

assemblage of walks and waterworks, with fresh air and fine shrubs and flowers, immediately within the

reach of the citizens. All that art and energy can do will be done, and the Central Park doubtless will become

one of the great glories of New York. When I was expected to declare that St. James's Park, Green Park,

Hyde Park, and Kensington Gardens altogether were nothing to it, I confess that I could only remain mute.

Those who desire to learn what are the secrets of society in New York, I would refer to the Potiphar Papers.

The Potiphar Papers are perhaps not as well known in England as they deserve to be. They were published, I

think, as much as seven or eight years ago; but are probably as true now as they were then. What I saw of

society in New York was quiet and pleasant enough; but doubtless I did not climb into that circle in which

Mrs. Potiphar held so distinguished a position. It may be true that gentlemen habitually throw fragments of

their supper and remnants of their wine on to their host's carpets; but if so I did not see it.

As I progress in my work I feel that duty will call upon me to write a separate chapter on hotels in general,

and I will not, therefore, here say much about those in New York. I am inclined to think that few towns in the

world, if any, afford on the whole better accommodation, but there are many in which the accommodation is

cheaper. Of the railways also I ought to say something. The fact respecting them, which is most remarkable,

is that of their being continued into the center of the town through the streets. The cars are not dragged

through the city by locomotive engines, but by horses; the pace therefore is slow, but the convenience to

travelers in being brought nearer to the center of trade must be much felt. It is as though passengers from

Liverpool and passengers from Bristol were carried on from Euston Square and Paddington along the New

Road, Portland Place, and Regent Street to Pall Mall, or up the City Road to the Bank. As a general rule,

however, the railways, railway cars, and all about them are ill managed. They are monopolies, and the public,

through the press, has no restraining power upon them as it has in England. A parcel sent by express over a

distance of forty miles will not be delivered within twentyfour hours. I once made my plaint on this subject

at the bar or office of a hotel, and was told that no remonstrance was of avail. "It is a monopoly," the man

told me, "and if we say anything, we are told that if we do not like it we need not use it." In railway matters

and postal matters time and punctuality are not valued in the States as they are with us, and the public seem to

acknowledge that they must put up with defects that they must grin and bear them in America, as the

public no doubt do in Austria, where such affairs are managed by a government bureau.

In the beginning of this chapter I spoke of the population of New York, and I cannot end it without remarking

that out of that population more than oneeighth is composed of Germans. It is, I believe, computed that

there are about 120,000 Germans in the city, and that only two other German cities in the world, Vienna and

Berlin have a larger German population than New York. The Germans are good citizens and thriving men,

and are to be found prospering all over the Northern and Western parts of the Union. It seems that they are

excellently well adapted to colonization, though they have in no instance become the dominant people in a

colony, or carried with them their own language or their own laws. The French have done so in Algeria, in

some of the West India islands, and quite as essentially into Lower Canada, where their language and laws

still prevail. And yet it is, I think, beyond doubt that the French are not good colonists, as are the Germans.

Of the ultimate destiny of New York as one of the ruling commercial cities of the world, it is, I think,

impossible to doubt. Whether or no it will ever equal London in population I will not pretend to say; even

should it do so, should its numbers so increase as to enable it to say that it had done so, the question could not

very well be settled. When it comes to pass that an assemblage of men in one socalled city have to be

counted by millions, there arises the impossibility of defining the limits of that city, and of saying who belong

to it and who do not. An arbitrary line may be drawn, but that arbitrary line, though perhaps false when drawn

as including too much, soon becomes more false as including too little. Ealing, Acton, Fulham, Putney,

Norwood, Sydenham, Blackheath, Woolwich, Greenwich, Stratford, Highgate, and Hampstead are, in truth,

As New York is the most populous State of the Union, having the largest representation in Congresson

which account it has been called the Empire StateI propose to state, as shortly as may be, the nature of its

separate constitution as a State. Of course it will be understood that the constitutions of the different States

are by no means the same. They have been arranged according to the judgment of the different people

concerned, and have been altered from time to time to suit such altered judgment. But as the States together

form one nation, and on such matters as foreign affairs, war, customs, and postoffice regulations, are bound

together as much as are the English counties, it is, of course, necessary that the constitution of each should in

most matters assimilate itself to those of the others. These constitutions are very much alike. A Governor,

with two houses of legislature, generally called the Senate and the House of Representatives, exists in each

State. In the State of New York the Lower House is called the Assembly. In most States the Governor is

elected annually; but in some States for two years, as in New York. In Pennsylvania he is elected for three

years. The House of Representatives or the Assembly is, I think, always elected for one session only; but as

in many of the States the legislature only sits once in two years, the election recurs of course at the same

interval. The franchise in all the States is nearly universal, but in no State is it perfectly so. The Governor,

LieutenantGovernor, and other officers are elected by vote of the people, as well as the members of the

legislature. Of course it will be understood that each State makes laws for itselfthat they are in nowise

dependent on the Congress assembled at Washington for their lawsunless for laws which refer to matters

between the United States as a nation and other nations, or between one State and another. Each State

declares with what punishment crimes shall be visited; what taxes shall be levied for the use of the State;

what laws shall be passed as to education; what shall be the State judiciary. With reference to the judiciary,

however, it must be understood that the United States as a nation have separate national law courts, before

which come all cases litigated between State and State, and all cases which do not belong in every respect to

any one individual State. In a subsequent chapter I will endeavor to explain this more fully. In endeavoring to

understand the Constitution of the United States, it is essentially necessary that we should remember that we

have always to deal with two different political arrangementsthat which refers to the nation as a whole, and

that which belongs to each State as a separate governing power in itself. What is law in one State is not law in

another, nevertheless there is a very great likeness throughout these various constitutions, and any political

student who shall have thoroughly mastered one, will not have much to learn in mastering the others.

This State, now called New York, was first settled by the Dutch in 1614, on Manhattan Island. They

established a government in 1629, under the name of the New Netherlands. In 1664 Charles II. granted the

province to his brother, James II., then Duke of York, and possession was taken of the country on his behalf

by one Colonel Nichols. In 1673 it was recaptured by the Dutch, but they could not hold it, and the Duke of

York again took possession by patent. A legislative body was first assembled during the reign of Charles II.,

in 1683; from which it will be seen that parliamentary representation was introduced into the American

colonies at a very early date. The Declaration of Independence was made by the revolted colonies in 1776,

and in 1777 the first constitution was adopted by the State of New York. In 1822 this was changed for

another; and the one of which I now purport to state some of the details was brought into action in 1847. In

this constitution there is a provision that it shall be overhauled and remodeled, if needs be, once in twenty

years. Article XIII. Sec. 2. "At the general election to be held in 1806, and in each twentieth year thereafter,

the question, 'Shall there be a convention to revise the constitution and amend the same?' shall be decided by

the electors qualified to vote for members of the legislature?" So that the New Yorkers, cannot be twitted

with the presumption of finality in reference to their legislative arrangements.

The present constitution begins with declaring the inviolability of trial by jury, and of habeas

corpus"unless when, in cases of rebellion or invasion, the public safety may require its suspension." It does

not say by whom it may be suspended, or who is to judge of the public safety, but, at any rate, it may be

presumed that such suspension was supposed to come from the powers of the State which enacted the law. At

the present moment, the habeas corpus is suspended in New York, and this suspension has proceeded not

from the powers of the State, but from the Federal government, without the sanction even of the Federal

"Every citizen may freely speak, write, and publish his sentiments on all subjects, being responsible for the

abuse of that right; and no law shall be passed to restrain or abridge the liberty of speech or of the press." Art.

I. Sec. 8. But at the present moment liberty of speech and of the press is utterly abrogated in the State of New

York, as it is in other States. I mention this not as a reproach against either the State or the Federal

government, but to show how vain all laws are for the protection of such rights. If they be not protected by

the feelings of the peopleif the people are at any time, or from any cause, willing to abandon such

In Article I. Sec. 14, there is a proviso that no landland, that is, used for agricultural purposesshall be let

on lease for a longer period than twelve years. "No lease or grant of agricultural land for a longer period than

twelve years hereafter made, in which shall be reserved any rent or service of any kind, shall be valid." I do

not understand the intended virtue of this proviso, but it shows very clearly how different are the practices

with reference to land in England and America. Farmers in the States almost always are the owners of the

land which they farm, and such tenures as those by which the occupiers of land generally hold their farms

with us are almost unknown. There is no such relation as that of landlord and tenant as regards agricultural

Every male citizen of New York may vote who is twentyone, who has been a citizen for ten days, who has

lived in the State for a year, and for four months in the county in which he votes. He can vote for all "officers

that now are, or hereafter may be, elective by the people." Art, II. Sec. 1. "But," the section goes on to say,

"no man of color, unless he shall have been for three years a citizen of the State, and for one year next

preceding any election shall have been possessed of a freehold estate of the value of 250 dollars, (50l.,) and

shall have been actually rated, and paid a tax thereon, shall be entitled to vote at such election." This is the

The third article provides for the election of the Senate and the Assembly. The Senate consists of thirtytwo

members. And it may here be remarked that large as is the State of New York, and great as is its population,

its Senate is less numerous than that of many other States. In Massachusetts, for instance, there are forty

Senators, though the population of Massachusetts is barely one third that of New York. In Virginia, there

are fifty Senators, whereas the free population is not onethird of that of New York. As a consequence, the

Senate of New York is said to be filled with men of a higher class than are generally found in the Senates of

other States. Then follows in the article a list of the districts which are to return the Senators. These districts

consist of one, two, three, or in one case four counties, according to the population.

The article does not give the number of members of the Lower House, nor does it even state what amount of

population shall be held as entitled to a member. It merely provides for the division of the State into districts

which shall contain an equal number, not of population, but of voters. The House of Assembly does consist

It is then stipulated that every member of both houses shall receive three dollars a day, or twelve shillings, for

their services during the sitting of the legislature; but this sum is never to exceed 300 dollars, or sixty pounds,

in one year, unless an extra session be called. There is also an allowance for the traveling expenses of

members. It is, I presume, generally known that the members of the Congress at Washington are all paid, and

No member of the New York legislature can also be a member of the Washington Congress, or hold any civil

A majority of each House must be present, or, as the article says, "shall constitute a quorum to do business."

Each House is to keep a journal of its proceedings. The doors are to be openexcept when the public

welfare shall require secrecy. A singular proviso this in a country boasting so much of freedom! For no

speech or debate in either House, shall the legislator be called in question in any other place. The legislature

assembles on the first Tuesday in January, and sits for about three months. Its seat is at Albany.

The executive power, Article IV., is to be vested in a Governor and a LieutenantGovernor, both of whom

shall be chosen for two years. The Governor must be a citizen of the United States, must be thirty years of

age, and have lived for the last four years in the State. He is to be commanderinchief of the military and

naval forces of the State, as is the President of those of the Union. I see that this is also the case in inland

States, which one would say can have no navies. And with reference to some States it is enacted that the

Governor is commanderinchief of the army, navy, and militia, showing that some army over and beyond

the militia may be kept by the State. In Tennessee, which is an inland State, it is enacted that the Governor

shall be "commanderinchief of the army and navy of this State, and of the militia, except when they shall

be called into the service of the United States." In Ohio the same is the case, except that there is no mention

of militia. In New York there is no proviso with reference to the service of the United States. I mention this as

it bears with some strength on the question of the right of secession, and indicates the jealousy of the

individual States with reference to the Federal government. The Governor can convene extra sessions of one

House or of both. He makes a message to the legislature when it meetsa sort of Queen's speech; and he

receives for his services a compensation to be established by law. In New York this amounts to 800l. a year.

In some States this is as low as 200l. and 300l. In Virginia it is 1000l. In California, 1200l.

The Governor can pardon, except in cases of treason. He has also a veto upon all bills sent up by the

legislature. If he exercise this veto he returns the bill to the legislature with his reasons for so doing. If the bill

on reconsideration by the Houses be again passed by a majority of twothirds in each house, it becomes law

in spite of the Governor's veto. The veto of the President at Washington is of the same nature. Such are the

powers of the Governor. But though they are very full, the Governor of each State does not practically

exercise any great political power, nor is he, even politically, a great man. You might live in a State during

the whole term of his government and hardly hear of him. There is vested in him by the language of the

constitution a much wider power than that intrusted to the governor of our colonies. But in our colonies

everybody talks, and thinks, and knows about the governor. As far as the limits of the colony the governor is

a great man. But this is not the case with reference to the governors in the different States.

The next article provides that the Governor's ministers, viz, the Secretary of State, the Controller, Treasurer,

and Attorney General, shall be chosen every two years at a general election. In this respect the State

constitution differs from that of the national constitution. The President at Washington names his own

ministerssubject to the approbation of the Senate. He makes many other appointments with the same

limitation, and the Senate, I believe, is not slow to interfere; but with reference to the ministers it is

understood that the names sent in by the President shall stand. Of the Secretary of State, Controller, etc.,

belonging to the different States, and who are elected by the people, in a general way, one never hears. No

doubt they attend their offices and take their pay, but they are not political personages.

The next article, No. VI., refers to the judiciary, and is very complicated. As I cannot understand it, I will not

attempt to explain it. Moreover, it is not within the scope of my ambition to convey here all the details of the

State constitution. In Sec. 20 of this article it is provided that no judicial officer, except justices of the peace,

shall receive to his own use any fees or perquisites of office." How pleasantly this enactment must sound in

Article VII. refers to fiscal matters, and is more especially interesting as showing how greatly the State of

New York has depended on its canals for its wealth. These canals are the property of the State; and by this

article it seems to be provided that they shall not only maintain themselves, but maintain to a considerable

extent the State expenditure also, and stand in lieu of taxation. It is provided, Section 6 that the "legislature

shall not sell, lease, or otherwise dispose of any of the canals of the State; but that they shall remain the

property of the State, and under its management forever." But in spite of its canals the State does not seem to

be doing very well, for I see that, in 1860, its income was 4,780,000 dollars, and its expenditure 5,100,000,

whereas its debt was 32,500,000 dollars. Of all the States, Pennsylvania is the most indebted, Virginia the

second, and New York the third. New Hampshire, Connecticut, Vermont, Delaware, and Texas owe no State

The militia is supposed to consist of all men capable of bearing arms, under fortyfive years of age. But no

one need be enrolled, who from scruples of conscience is averse to bearing arms. At the present moment such

scruples do not seem to be very general. Then follows, in Article XI., a detailed enactment as to the choosing

of militia officers. It may be perhaps sufficient to say that the privates are to choose the captains and the

subalterns; the captains and subalterns are to choose the field officers; and the field officers the

brigadiergenerals and inspectors of brigade. The Governor, however, with the consent of the Senate, shall

nominate all majorgenerals. Now that real soldiers have unfortunately become necessary, the above plan has

Such is the constitution of the State of New York, which has been intended to work and does work quite

separately from that of the United States. It will be seen that the purport has been to make it as widely

democratic as possibleto provide that all power of all description shall come directly from the people, and

that such power shall return to the people at short intervals. The Senate and the Governor each remain for two

years, but not for the same two years. If a new Senate commence its work in 1861, a new Governor will come

in in 1862. But, nevertheless, there is in the form of government as thus established an absence of that close

and immediate responsibility which attends our ministers. When a man has been voted in, it seems that

responsibility is over for the period of the required service. He has been chosen, and the country which has

chosen him is to trust that he will do his best. I do not know that this matters much with reference to the

legislature or governments of the different States, for their State legislatures and governments are but puny

powers; but in the legislature and government at Washington it does matter very much. But I shall have

Nothing has struck me so much in America as the fact that these State legislatures are puny powers. The

absence of any tidings whatever of their doings across the water is a proof of this. Who has heard of the

legislature of New York or of Massachusetts? It is boasted here that their insignificance is a sign of the well

being of the people; that the smallness of the power necessary for carrying on the machine shows how

beautifully the machine is organized, and how well it works. "It is better to have little governors than great

governors," an American said to me once. "It is our glory that we know how to live without having great men

over us to rule us." That glory, if ever it were a glory, has come to an end. It seems to me that all these

troubles have come upon the States because they have not placed high men in high places. The less of laws

and the less of control the better, providing a people can go right with few laws and little control. One may

say that no laws and no control would be best of allprovided that none were needed. But this is not exactly

The two professions of lawmaking and of governing have become unfashionable, low in estimation, and of

no repute in the States. The municipal powers of the cities have not fallen into the hands of the leading men.

The word politician has come to bear the meaning of political adventurer and almost of political blackleg. If

A calls B a politician, A intends to vilify B by so calling him. Whether or no the best citizens of a State will

ever be induced to serve in the State legislature by a nobler consideration than that of pay, or by a higher tone

of political morals than that now existing, I cannot say. It seems to me that some great decrease in the

numbers of the State legislators should be a first step toward such a consummation. There are not many men

in each State who can afford to give up two or three months of the year to the State service for nothing; but it

may be presumed that in each State there are a few. Those who are induced to devote their time by the

payment of 60l. can hardly be the men most fitted for the purpose of legislation. It certainly has seemed to me

that the members of the State legislatures and of the State governments are not held in that respect and treated

with that confidence to which, in the eyes of an Englishman, such functionaries should be held as entitled.

From New York we returned to Boston by Hartford, the capital or one of the capitals of Connecticut. This

proud little State is composed of two old provinces, of which Hartford and New Haven were the two

metropolitan towns. Indeed, there was a third colony, called Saybrook, which was joined to Hartford. As

neither of the two could, of course, give way, when Hartford and New Haven were made into one, the houses

of legislature and the seat of government are changed about year by year. Connecticut is a very proud little

State, and has a pleasant legend of its own stanchness in the old colonial days. In 1662 the colonies were

united, and a charter was given to them by Charles II. But some years later, in 1686, when the bad days of

James II. had come, this charter was considered to be too liberal, and order was given that it should be

suspended. One Sir Edmund Andross had been appointed governor of all New England, and sent word from

Boston to Connecticut that the charter itself should be given up to him. This the men of Connecticut refused

to do. Whereupon Sir Edmund with a military following presented himself at their Assembly, declared their

governing powers to be dissolved, and, after much palaver, caused the charter itself to be laid upon the table

before him. The discussion had been long, having lasted through the day into the night, and the room had

been lighted with candles. On a sudden each light disappeared, and Sir Edmund with his followers were in

the dark. As a matter of course, when the light was restored the charter was gone; and Sir Edmund, the

governorgeneral, was baffled, as all governorsgeneral and all Sir Edmunds always are in such cases. The

charter was gone, a gallant Captain Wadsworth having carried it off and hidden it in an oaktree. The charter

was renewed when William III. came to the throne, and now hangs triumphantly in the State House at

Hartford. The charter oak has, alas! succumbed to the weather, but was standing a few years since. The men

of Hartford are very proud of their charter, and regard it as the parent of their existing liberties quite as much

And, indeed, the Northern States of the Unionespecially those of New Englandrefer all their liberties to

the old charters which they held from the mother country. They rebelled, as they themselves would seem to

say, and set themselves up as a separate people, not because the mother country had refused to them by law

sufficient liberty and sufficient selfcontrol, but because the mother country infringed the liberties and

powers of selfcontrol which she herself had given. The mother country, so these States declare, had acted

the part of Sir Edmund Androsshad endeavored to take away their charters. So they also put out the lights,

and took themselves to an oaktree of their ownwhich is still standing, though winds from the infernal

Whether the mother country did or did not infringe the charters she had given, I will not here inquire. As to

the nature of those alleged infringements, are they not written down to the number of twentyseven in the

Declaration of Independence? They mostly begin with He. "He" has done this, and "He" has done that. The

"He" is poor George III., whose twentyseven mortal sins against his Transatlantic colonies are thus

recapitulated. It would avail nothing to argue now whether those deeds were sins or virtues, nor would it have

availed then. The child had grown up and was strong, and chose to go alone into the world. The young bird

was fledged, and flew away. Poor George III. with his cackling was certainly not efficacious in restraining

such a flight. But it is gratifying to see how this new people, when they had it in their power to change all

their laws, to throw themselves upon any Utopian theory that the folly of a wild philanthropy could devise, to

discard as abominable every vestige of English rule and English power,it is gratifying to see that, when

they could have done all this, they did not do so, but preferred to cling to things English. Their old colonial

limits were still to be the borders of their States. Their old charters were still to be regarded as the sources

from whence their State powers had come. The old laws were to remain in force. The precedents of the

English courts were to be held as legal precedents in the courts of the new nation, and are now so held. It was

still to be England, but England without a king making his last struggle for political power. This was the idea

of the people and this was their feeling; and that idea has been carried out and that feeling has remained.

In the constitution of the State of New York nothing is said about the religion of the people. It was regarded

as a subject with which the constitution had no concern whatever. But as soon as we come among the stricter

people of New England, we find that the constitutionmakers have not been able absolutely to ignore the

subject. In Connecticut it is enjoined that, as it is the duty of all men to worship the Supreme Being, and their

right to render that worship in the mode most consistent with their consciences, no person shall be by law

compelled to join or be classed with any religious association. The line of argument is hardly logical, the

conclusion not being in accordance with or hanging on the first of the two premises. But nevertheless the

meaning is clear. In a free country no man shall be made to worship after any special fashion; but it is

decreed by the constitution that every man is bound by duty to worship after some fashion. The article then

goes on to say how they who do worship are to be taxed for the support of their peculiar church. I am not

quite clear whether the New Yorkers have not managed this difficulty with greater success. When we come to

the Old Bay Stateto Massachusettswe find the Christian religion spoken of in the constitution as that

which in some one of its forms should receive the adherence of every good citizen.

Hartford is a pleasant little town, with Englishlooking houses, and an Englishlooking country around it.

Here, as everywhere through the States, one is struck by the size and comfort of the residences. I sojourned

there at the house of a friend, and could find no limit to the number of spacious sittingrooms which it

contained. The modest diningroom and drawingroom which suffice with us for men of seven or eight

hundred a year would be regarded as very mean accommodation by persons of similar incomes in the States.

I found that Hartford was all alive with trade, and that wages were high, because there are there two factories

for the manufacture of arms. Colt's pistols come from Hartford, as also do Sharpe's rifles. Wherever arms can

be prepared, or gunpowder; where clothes or blankets fit for soldiers can be made, or tents or standards, or

things appertaining in any way to warfare, there trade was still brisk. No being is more costly in his

requirements than a soldier, and no soldier so costly as the American. He must eat and drink of the best, and

have good boots and warm bedding, and good shelter. There were during the Christmas of 1861 above half a

million of soldiers so to be providedthe President, in his message made in December to Congress, declared

the number to be above six hundred thousandand therefore in such places as Hartford trade was very brisk.

I went over the rifle factory, and was shown everything, but I do not know that I brought away much with me

that was worth any reader's attention. The best of rifles, I have no doubt, were being made with the greatest

rapidity, and all were sent to the army as soon as finished. I saw some murderouslooking weapons, with

swords attached to them instead of bayonets, but have since been told by soldiers that the oldfashioned

Immediately on my arrival in Boston I heard that Mr. Emerson was going to lecture at the Tremont Hall on

the subject of the war, and I resolved to go and hear him. I was acquainted with Mr. Emerson, and by

reputation knew him well. Among us in England he is regarded as transcendental and perhaps even as mystic

in his philosophy. His "Representative Men" is the work by which he is best known on our side of the water,

and I have heard some readers declare that they could not quite understand Mr. Emerson's "Representative

Men." For myself, I confess that I had broken down over some portions of that book. Since I had become

acquainted with him I had read others of his writings, especially his book on England, and had found that he

improved greatly on acquaintance. I think that he has confined his mysticism to the book above named. In

conversation he is very clear, and by no means above the small practical things of the world. He would, I

fancy, know as well what interest he ought to receive for his money as though he were no philosopher, and I

am inclined to think that if he held land he would make his hay while the sun shone, as might any common

farmer. Before I had met Mr. Emerson, when my idea of him was formed simply on the "Representative

Men," I should have thought that a lecture from him on the war would have taken his hearers all among the

clouds. As it was, I still had my doubts, and was inclined to fear that a subject which could only be handled

usefully at such a time before a large audience by a combination of common sense, high principles, and

eloquence, would hardly be safe in Mr. Emerson's hands. I did not doubt the high principles, but feared much

that there would be a lack of common sense. So many have talked on that subject, and have shown so great a

Mr. Emerson is a Massachusetts man, very well known in Boston, and a great crowd was collected to hear

him. I suppose there were some three thousand persons in the room. I confess that when he took his place

before us my prejudices were against him. The matter in hand required no philosophy. It required common

sense, and the very best of common sense. It demanded that he should be impassioned, for of what interest

can any address be on a matter of public politics without passion? But it demanded that the passion should be

winnowed, and free from all rodomontade. I fancied what might be said on such a subject as to that

overlauded starspangled banner, and how the starspangled flag would look when wrapped in a mist of

But from the beginning to the end there was nothing mysticno Platonism; and, if I remember rightly, the

starspangled banner was altogether omitted. To the national eagle he did allude. "Your American eagle," he

said, "is very well. Protect it here and abroad. But beware of the American peacock." He gave an account of

the war from the beginning, showing how it had arisen, and how it had been conducted; and he did so with

admirable simplicity and truth. He thought the North were right about the war; and as I thought so also, I was

not called upon to disagree with him. He was terse and perspicuous in his sentences, practical in his advice,

and, above all things, true in what he said to his audience of themselves. They who know America will

understand how hard it is for a public man in the States to practice such truth in his addresses. Fluid

compliments and highflown national eulogium are expected. In this instance none were forthcoming. The

North had risen with patriotism to make this effort, and it was now warned that in doing so it was simply

doing its national duty. And then came the subject of slavery. I had been told that Mr. Emerson was an

abolitionist, and knew that I must disagree with him on that head, if on no other. To me it has always seemed

that to mix up the question of general abolition with this war must be the work of a man too ignorant to

understand the real subject of the war, or too false to his country to regard it. Throughout the whole lecture I

was waiting for Mr. Emerson's abolition doctrine, but no abolition doctrine came. The words abolition and

compensation were mentioned, and then there was an end of the subject. If Mr. Emerson be an abolitionist, he

expressed his views very mildly on that occasion. On the whole, the lecture was excellent, and that little

That practice of lecturing is "quite an institution" in the States. So it is in England, my readers will say. But in

England it is done in a different way, with a different object, and with much less of result. With us, if I am not

mistaken, lectures are mostly given gratuitously by the lecturer. They are got up here and there with some

philanthropical object, and in the hope that an hour at the disposal of young men and women may be rescued

from idleness. The subjects chosen are social, literary, philanthropic, romantic, geographical, scientific,

religiousanything rather than political. The lecturerooms are not usually filled to overflowing, and there

is often a question whether the real good achieved is worth the trouble taken. The most popular lectures are

given by big people, whose presence is likely to be attractive; and the whole thing, I fear we must confess, is

not preeminently successful. In the Northern States of America the matter stands on a very different footing.

Lectures there are more popular than either theaters or concerts. Enormous halls are built for them. Tickets

for long courses are taken with avidity. Very large sums are paid to popular lecturers, so that the profession is

lucrative more so, I am given to understand, than is the cognate profession of literature. The whole thing is

done in great style. Music is introduced. The lecturer stands on a large raised platform, on which sit around

him the bald and hoaryheaded and superlatively wise. Ladies come in large numbers, especially those who

aspire to soar above the frivolities of the world. Politics is the subject most popular, and most general. The

men and women of Boston could no more do without their lectures than those of Paris could without their

theaters. It is the decorous diversion of the best ordered of her citizens. The fast young men go to clubs, and

the fast young women to dances, as fast young men and women do in other places that are wicked; but

lecturing is the favorite diversion of the steadyminded Bostonian. After all, I do not know that the result is

very good. It does not seem that much will be gained by such lectures on either side of the Atlanticexcept

that respectable killing of an evening which might otherwise be killed less respectably. It is but an industrious

idleness, an attempt at a royal road to information, that habit of attending lectures. Let any man or woman say

what he has brought away from any such attendance. It is attractive, that idea of being studious without any

of the labor of study; but I fear it is illusive. If an evening can be so passed without ennui, I believe that that

may be regarded as the best result to be gained. But then it so often happens that the evening is not passed

without ennui! Of course in saying this, I am not alluding to lectures given in special places as a course of

special study. Medical lectures are, or may be, a necessary part of medical education. As many as two or

three thousand often attend these popular lectures in Boston, but I do not know whether on that account the

popular subjects are much better understood. Nevertheless I resolved to hear more, hoping that I might in that

way teach myself to understand what were the popular politics in New England. Whether or no I may have

learned this in any other way, I do not perhaps know; but at any rate I did not learn it in this way.

The next lecture which I attended was also given in the Tremont Hall, and on this occasion also the subject of

the war was to be treated. The special treachery of the rebels was, I think, the matter to be taken in hand. On

this occasion also the room was full, and my hopes of a pleasant hour ran high. For some fifteen minutes I

listened, and I am bound to say that the gentleman discoursed in excellent English. He was master of that

wonderful fluency which is peculiarly the gift of an American. He went on from one sentence to another with

rhythmic tones and unerring pronunciation. He never faltered, never repeated his words, never fell into those

vile halfmuttered hems and haws by which an Englishman in such a position so generally betrays his

timidity. But during the whole time of my remaining in the room he did not give expression to a single

thought. He went on from one soft platitude to another, and uttered words from which I would defy any one

of his audience to carry away with them anything. And yet it seemed to me that his audience was satisfied. I

The next lecturer to whom I listened was Mr. Everett. Mr. Everett's reputation as an orator is very great, and I

was especially anxious to hear him. I had long since known that his power of delivery was very marvelous;

that his tones, elocution, and action were all great; and that he was able to command the minds and

sympathies of his audience in a remarkable manner. His subject also was the waror rather the causes of the

war and its qualification. Had the North given to the South cause of provocation? Had the South been fair and

honest in its dealings to the North? Had any compromise been possible by which the war might have been

avoided, and the rights and dignity of the North preserved? Seeing that Mr. Everett is a Northern man and

was lecturing to a Boston audience, one knew well how these questions would be answered, but the manner

of the answering would be everything. This lecture was given at Roxbury, one of the suburbs of Boston. So I

went out to Roxbury with a party, and found myself honored by being placed on the platform among the

baldheaded ones and the superlatively wise. This privilege is naturally gratifying, but it entails on him who

is so gratified the inconvenience of sitting at the lecturer's back, whereas it is, perhaps, better for the listener

I could not but be amused by one little scenic incident. When we all went upon the platform, some one

proposed that the clergymen should lead the way out of the little waitingroom in which we baldheaded

ones and superlatively wise were assembled. But to this the manager of the affair demurred. He wanted the

clergymen for a purpose, he said. And so the profane ones led the way, and the clergymen, of whom there

might be some six or seven, clustered in around the lecturer at last. Early in his discourse, Mr. Everett told us

what it was that the country needed at this period of her trial. Patriotism, courage, the bravery of the men, the

good wishes of the women, the selfdenial of all"and," continued the lecturer, turning to his immediate

neighbors, "the prayers of these holy men whom I see around me." It had not been for nothing that the

Mr. Everett lectures without any book or paper before him, and continues from first to last as though the

words came from him on the spur of the moment. It is known, however, that it is his practice to prepare his

orations with great care and commit them entirely to memory, as does an actor. Indeed, he repeats the same

lecture over and over again, I am told, without the change of a word or of an action. I did not like Mr.

Everett's lecture. I did not like what he said, or the seeming spirit in which it was framed. But I am bound to

admit that his power of oratory is very wonderful. Those among his countrymen who have criticised his

manner in my hearing, have said that he is too florid, that there is an affectation in the motion of his hands,

and that the intended pathos of his voice sometimes approaches too near the precipice over which the fall is

so deep and rapid, and at the bottom of which lies absolute ridicule. Judging for myself, I did not find it so.

My position for seeing was not good, but my ear was not offended. Critics also should bear in mind that an

orator does not speak chiefly to them or for their approval. He who writes, or speaks, or sings for thousands,

must write, speak, or sing as those thousands would have him. That to a dainty connoisseur will be false

music, which to the general ear shall be accounted as the perfection of harmony. An eloquence altogether

suited to the fastidious and hypercritical, would probably fail to carry off the hearts and interest the

sympathies of the young and eager. As regards manners, tone, and choice of words I think that the oratory of

Mr. Everett places him very high. His skill in his work is perfect. He never falls back upon a word. He never

repeats himself. His voice is always perfectly under command. As for hesitation or timidity, the days for

those failings have long passed by with him. When he makes a point, he makes it well, and drives it home to

the intelligence of every one before him. Even that appeal to the holy men around him sounded wellor

would have done so had I not been present at that little arrangement in the anteroom. On the audience at large

But nevertheless the lecture gave me but a poor idea of Mr. Everett as a politician, though it made me regard

him highly as an orator. It was impossible not to perceive that he was anxious to utter the sentiments of the

audience rather than his own; that he was making himself an echo, a powerful and harmonious echo of what

he conceived to be public opinion in Boston at that moment; that he was neither leading nor teaching the

people before him, but allowing himself to be led by them, so that he might best play his present part for their

delectation. He was neither bold nor honest, as Emerson had been, and I could not but feel that every tyro of a

politician before him would thus recognize his want of boldness and of honesty. As a statesman, or as a critic

of statecraft, and of other statesmen, he is wanting in backbone. For many years Mr. Everett has been not

even inimical to Southern politics and Southern courses, nor was he among those who, during the last eight

years previous to Mr. Lincoln's election, fought the battle for Northern principles. I do not say that on this

account he is now false to advocate the war. But he cannot carry men with him when, at his age, he advocates

it by arguments opposed to the tenor of his long political life. His abuse of the South and of Southern ideas

was as virulent as might be that of a young lad now beginning his political career, or of one who had through

life advocated abolition principles. He heaped reproaches on poor Virginia, whose position as the chief of the

border States has given to her hardly the possibility of avoiding a Scylla of ruin on the one side, or a

Charybdis of rebellion on the other. When he spoke as he did of Virginia, ridiculing the idea of her sacred

soil, even I, Englishman as I am, could not but think of Washington, of Jefferson, of Randolph, and of

Madison. He should not have spoken of Virginia as he did speak; for no man could have known better

Virginia's difficulties. But Virginia was at a discount in Boston, and Mr. Everett was speaking to a Boston

audience. And then he referred to England and to Europe. Mr. Everett has been minister to England, and

knows the people. He is a student of history, and must, I think, know that England's career has not been

unhappy or unprosperous. But England also was at a discount in Boston, and Mr. Everett was speaking to a

Boston audience. They are sending us their advice across the water, said Mr. Everett. And what is their

advice to us? That we should come down from the high place we have built for ourselves, and be even as they

are. They screech at us from the low depths in which they are wallowng in their misery, and call on us to join

them in their wretchedness. I am not quoting Mr. Everett's very words, for I have not them by me; but I am

not making them stronger, nor so strong as he made them. As I thought of Mr. Everett's reputation, and of his

years of study, of his long political life and unsurpassed sources of information, I could not but grieve

heartily when I heard such words fall from him. I could not but ask myself whether it were impossible that

under the present circumstances of her constitution this great nation of America should produce an honest,

highminded statesman. When Lincoln and Hamlin, the existing President and VicePresident of the States,

were in 1860 as yet but the candidates of the Republican party, Bell and Everett also were the candidates of

the old Whig, conservative party. Their express theory was thisthat the question of slavery should not be

touched. Their purpose was to crush agitation and restore harmony by an impartial balance between the North

and South: a fine purposethe finest of all purposes, had it been practicable. But such a course of

compromise was now at a discount in Boston, and Mr. Everett was speaking to a Boston audience. As an

orator, Mr. Everett's excellence is, I think, not to be questioned; but as a politician I cannot give him a high

After that I heard Mr. Wendell Phillips. Of him, too, as an orator, all the world of Massachusetts speaks with

great admiration, and I have no doubt so speaks with justice. He is, however, known as the hottest and most

impassioned advocate of abolition. Not many months since the cause of abolition, as advocated by him, was

so unpopular in Boston, that Mr. Phillips was compelled to address his audience surrounded by a guard of

policemen. Of this gentleman I may at any rate say that he is consistent, devoted, and disinterested. He is an

abolitionist by profession, and seeks to find in every turn of the tide of politics some stream on which he may

bring himself nearer to his object. In the old days, previous to the selection of Mr. Lincoln, in days so old that

they are now nearly eighteen months past, Mr. Phillips was an antiUnion man. He advocated strongly the

disseverance of the Union, so that the country to which he belonged might have hands clean from the taint of

slavery. He had probably acknowledged to himself that while the North and South were bound together no

hope existed of emancipation, but that if the North stood alone the South would become too weak to foster

and keep alive the "social institution." In which, if such were his opinions, I am inclined to agree with him.

But now he is all for the Union, thinking that a victorious North can compel the immediate emancipation of

Southern slaves. As to which I beg to say that I am bold to differ from Mr. Phillips altogether.

It soon became evident to me that Mr. Phillips was unwell, and lecturing at a disadvantage. His manner was

clearly that of an accustomed orator, but his voice was weak, and he was not up to the effect which he

attempted to make. His hearers were impatient, repeatedly calling upon him to speak out, and on that account

I tried hard to feel kindly toward him and his lecture. But I must confess that I failed. To me it seemed that

the doctrine he preached was one of rapine, bloodshed, and social destruction. He would call upon the

government and upon Congress to enfranchise the slaves at oncenow during the warso that the Southern

power might be destroyed by a concurrence of misfortunes. And he would do so at once, on the spur of the

moment, fearing lest the South should be before him, and themselves emancipate their own bondsmen. I have

sometimes thought that there is no being so venomous, so bloodthirsty as a professed philanthropist; and

that when the philanthropist's ardor lies negroward, it then assumes the deepest die of venom and

bloodthirstiness. There are four millions of slaves in the Southern States, none of whom have any capacity

for selfmaintenance or selfcontrol. Four millions of slaves, with the necessities of children, with the

passions of men, and the ignorance of savages! And Mr. Phillips would emancipate these at a blow; would,

were it possible for him to do so, set them loose upon the soil to tear their masters, destroy each other, and

make such a hell upon the earth as has never even yet come from the uncontrolled passions and unsatisfied

wants of men. But Congress cannot do this. All the members of Congress put together cannot, according to

the Constitution of the United States, emancipate a single slave in South Carolina; not if they were all

unanimous. No emancipation in a slave State can come otherwise than by the legislative enactment of that

State. But it was then thought that in this coming winter of 186061 the action of Congress might be set

aside. The North possessed an enormous army under the control of the President. The South was in rebellion,

and the President could pronounce, and the army perhaps enforce, the confiscation of all property held in

slaves. If any who held them were not disloyal, the question of compensation might be settled afterward.

How those four million slaves should live, and how white men should live among them, in some States or

parts of States not equal to the blacks in numberas to that Mr. Phillips did not give us his opinion.

And Mr. Phillips also could not keep his tongue away from the abominations of Englishmen and the

miraculous powers of his own countrymen. It was on this occasion that he told us more than once how

Yankees carried brains in their fingers, whereas "common people"alluding by that name to

Europeanshad them only, if at all, inside their brainpans. And then he informed us that Lord Palmerston

had always hated America. Among the Radicals there might be one or two who understood and valued the

institutions of America, but it was a wellknown fact that Lord Palmerston was hostile to the country.

Nothing but hidden enmityenmity hidden or not hiddencould be expected from England. That the

people of Boston, or of Massachusetts, or of the North generally, should feel sore against England, is to me

intelligible. I know how the minds of men are moved in masses to certain feelings and that it ever must be so.

Men in common talk are not bound to weigh their words, to think, and speculate on their results, and be sure

of the premises on which their thoughts are founded. But it is different with a man who rises before two or

three thousand of his countrymen to teach and instruct them. After that I heard no more political lectures in

Of course I visited Bunker Hill, and went to Lexington and Concord. From the top of the monument on

Bunker Hill there is a fine view of Boston harbor, and seen from thence the harbor is picturesque. The mouth

is crowded with islands and jutting necks and promontories; and though the shores are in no place rich

enough to make the scenery grand, the general effect is good. The monument, however, is so constructed that

one can hardly get a view through the windows at the top of it, and there is no outside gallery round it.

Immediately below the monument is a marble figure of Major Warren, who fell there,not from the top of

the monument, as some one was led to believe when informed that on that spot the major had fallen. Bunker

Hill, which is little more than a mound, is at Charlestowna dull, populous, respectable, and very

Bunker Hill has obtained a considerable name, and is accounted great in the annals of American history. In

England we have all heard of Bunker Hill, and some of us dislike the sound as much as Frenchmen do that of

Waterloo. In the States men talk of Bunker Hill as we may, perhaps, talk of Agincourt and such favorite

fields. But, after all, little was done at Bunker Hill, and, as far as I can learn, no victory was gained there by

either party. The road from Boston to the town of Concord, on which stands the village of Lexington, is the

true scene of the earliest and greatest deeds of the men of Boston. The monument at Bunker Hill stands high

and commands attention, while those at Lexington and Concord are very lowly and command no attention.

But it is of that road and what was done on it that Massachusetts should be proud. When the colonists first

began to feel that they were oppressed, and a half resolve was made to resist that oppression by force, they

began to collect a few arms and some gunpowder at Concord, a small town about eighteen miles from

Boston. Of this preparation the English governor received tidings, and determined to send a party of soldiers

to seize the arms. This he endeavored to do secretly; but he was too closely watched, and word was sent

down over the waters by which Boston was then surrounded that the colonists might be prepared for the

soldiers. At that time Boston Neck, as it was, and is still called, was the only connection between the town

and the mainland, and the road over Boston Neck did not lead to Concord. Boats therefore were necessarily

used, and there was some difficulty in getting the soldiers to the nearest point. They made their way,

however, to the road, and continued their route as far as Lexington without interruption. Here, however, they

were attacked, and the first blood of that war was shed. They shot three or four of therebels, I suppose I

should in strict language call them, and then proceeded on to Concord. But at Concord they were stopped and

repulsed, and along the road back from Concord to Lexington they were driven with slaughter and dismay.

And thus the rebellion was commenced which led to the establishment of a people which, let us Englishmen

say and think what we may of them at this present moment, has made itself one of the five great nations of

the earth, and has enabled us to boast that the two out of the five who enjoy the greatest liberty and the widest

prosperity speak the English language and are known by English names. For all that has come and is like to

come, I say again, long may that honor remain. I could not but feel that that road from Boston to Concord

deserves a name in the world's history greater, perhaps, than has yet been given to it.

Concord is at present to be noted as the residence of Mr. Emerson and of Mr. Hawthorne, two of those many

men of letters of whose presence Boston and its neighborhood have reason to be proud. Of Mr. Emerson I

have already spoken. The author of the "Scarlet Letter" I regard as certainly the first of American novelists. I

know what men will say of Mr. Cooper,and I also am an admirer of Cooper's novels. But I cannot think

that Mr. Cooper's powers were equal to those of Mr. Hawthorne, though his mode of thought may have been

more genial, and his choice of subjects more attractive in their day. In point of imagination, which, after all,

is the novelist's greatest gift, I hardly know any living author who can he accounted superior to Mr.

Very much has, undoubtedly, been done in Boston to carry out that theory of Colonel Newcome'sEmollit

mores, by which the Colonel meant to signify his opinion that a competent knowledge of reading, writing,

and arithmetic, with a taste for enjoying those accomplishments, goes very far toward the making of a man,

and will by no means mar a gentleman. In Boston nearly every man, woman, and child has had his or her

manners so far softened; and though they may still occasionally be somewhat rough to the outer touch, the

inward effect is plainly visible. With us, especially among our agricultural population, the absence of that

I went to see a public library in the city, which, if not founded by Mr. Bates, whose name is so well known in

London as connected with the house of Messrs. Baring, has been greatly enriched by him. It is by his money

that it has been enabled to do its work. In this library there is a certain number of thousands of volumesa

great many volumes, as there are in most public libraries. There are books of all classes, from ponderous

unreadable folios, of which learned men know the titlepages, down to the lightest literature. Novels are by

no means eschewed,are rather, if I understood aright, considered as one of the staples of the library. From

this library any book, excepting such rare volumes as in all libraries are considered holy, is given out to any

inhabitant of Boston, without any payment, on presentation of a simple request on a prepared form. In point

of fact, it is a gratuitous circulating library open to all Boston, rich or poor, young or old. The books seemed

in general to be confided to young children, who came as messengers from their fathers and mothers, or

brothers and sisters. No question whatever is asked, if the applicant is known or the place of his residence

undoubted. If there be no such knowledge, or there be any doubt as to the residence, the applicant is

questioned, the object being to confine the use of the library to the bona fide inhabitants of the city.

Practically the books are given to those who ask for them, whoever they may be. Boston contains over

200,000 inhabitants, and all those 200,000 are entitled to them. Some twenty men and women are kept

employed from morning till night in carrying on this circulating library; and there is, moreover, attached to

the establishment a large reading room supplied with papers and magazines, open to the public of Boston on

Of course I asked whether a great many of the books were not lost, stolen, and destroyed; and of course I was

told that there were no losses, no thefts, and no destruction. As to thefts, the librarian did not seem to think

that any instance of such an occurrence could be found. Among the poorer classes, a book might sometimes

be lost when they were changing their lodgings; but anything so lost was more than replaced by the fines. A

book is taken out for a week, and if not brought back at the end of that weekwhen the loan can be renewed

if the reader wishesa fine, I think of two cents, is incurred. The children, when too late with the books,

bring in the two cents as a matter of course, and the sum so collected fully replaces all losses. It was all

couleur de rose; the librarianesses looked very pretty and learned, and, if I remember aright, mostly wore

spectacles; the head librarian was enthusiastic; the nice, instructive books were properly dogseared; my own

productions were in enormous demand; the call for books over the counter was brisk; and the readingroom

It has, I dare say, occurred to other travelers to remark that the proceedings at such institutions, when visited

by them on their travels, are always rose colored. It is natural that the bright side should be shown to the

visitor. It may be that many books are called for and returned unread; that many of those taken out are so

taken by persons who ought to pay for their novels at circulating libraries; that the librarian and librarianesses

get very tired of their long hours of attendance, for I found that they were very long; and that many idlers

warm themselves in that readingroom. Nevertheless the fact remainsthe library is public to all the men

and women in Boston, and books are given out without payment to all who may choose to ask for them. Why

should not the great Mr. Mudie emulate Mr. Bates, and open a library in London on the same system?

The librarian took me into one special room, of which he himself kept the key, to show me a present which

the library had received from the English government. The room was filled with volumes of two sizes, all

bound alike, containing descriptions and drawings of all the patents taken out in England. According to this

librarian, such a work would be invaluable as to American patents; but he conceived that the subject had

become too confused to render any such an undertaking possible. "I never allow a single volume to be used

for a moment without the presence of myself or one of my assistants," said the librarian; and then he

explained to me, when I asked him why he was so particular, that the drawings would, as a matter of course,

be cut out and stolen if he omitted his care. "But they may be copied," I said. "Yes; but if Jones merely copies

one, Smith may come after him and copy it also. Jones will probably desire to hinder Smith from having any

evidence of such a patent." As to the ordinary borrowing and returning of books, the poorest laborer's child in

Boston might be trusted as honest; but when a question of trade came upof commercial competitionthen

the librarian was bound to bethink himself that his countrymen are very smart. "I hope," said the librarian,

"you will let them know in England how grateful we are for their present." And I hereby execute that

I shall always look back to social life in Boston with great pleasure. I met there many men and women whom

to know is a distinction, and with whom to be intimate is a great delight. It was a Puritan city, in which strict

old Roundhead sentiments and laws used to prevail; but nowadays ginger is hot in the mouth there, and, in

spite of the war, there were cakes and ale. There was a law passed in Massachusetts in the old days that any

girl should be fined and imprisoned who allowed a young man to kiss her. That law has now, I think, fallen

into abeyance, and such matters are regulated in Boston much as they are in other large towns farther

eastward. It still, I conceive, calls itself a Puritan city; but it has divested its Puritanism of austerity, and

clings rather to the politics and public bearing of its old fathers than to their social manners and pristine

severity of intercourse. The young girls are, no doubt, much more comfortable under the new

dispensationand the elderly men also, as I fancy. Sunday, as regards the outer streets, is sabbatical. But

Sunday evenings within doors I always found to be what my friends in that country call "quite a good time."

It is not the thing in Boston to smoke in the streets during the day; but the wisest, the sagest, and the most

holyeven those holy men whom the lecturer saw around him seldom refuse a cigar in the diningroom

as soon as the ladies have gone. Perhaps even the wicked weed would make its appearance before that sad

eclipse, thereby postponing or perhaps absolutely annihilating the melancholy period of widowhood to both

parties, and would light itself under the very eyes of those who in sterner cities will lend no countenance to

such lightings. Ah me, it was very pleasant! I confess I like this abandonment of the stricter rules of the more

decorous world. I fear that there is within me an aptitude to the milder debaucheries which makes such

deviations pleasant. I like to drink and I like to smoke, but I do not like to turn women out of the room. Then

comes the question whether one can have all that one likes together. In some small circles in New England I

found people simple enough to fancy that they could. In Massachusetts the Maine liquor law is still the law of

the land, but, like that other law to which I have alluded, it has fallen very much out of use. At any rate, it had

not reached the houses of the gentlemen with whom I had the pleasure of making acquaintance. But here I

must guard myself from being misunderstood. I saw but one drunken man through all New England, and he

was very respectable. He was, however, so uncommonly drunk that he might be allowed to count for two or

three. The Puritans of Boston are, of course, simple in their habits and simple in their expenses. Champagne

and canvasback ducks I found to be the provisions most in vogue among those who desired to adhere

closely to the manner of their forefathers. Upon the whole, I found the ways of life which had been brought

over in the "Mayflower" from the stern sects of England, and preserved through the revolutionary war for

liberty, to be very pleasant ways; and I made up my mind that a Yankee Puritan can be an uncommonly

pleasant fellow. I wish that some of them did not dine so early; for when a man sits down at halfpast two,

In Boston the houses are very spacious and excellent, and they are always furnished with those luxuries

which it is so difficult to introduce into an old house. They have hot and cold water pipes into every room,

and baths attached to the bedchambers. It is not only that comfort is increased by such arrangements, but that

much labor is saved. In an old English house it will occupy a servant the best part of the day to carry water up

and down for a large family. Everything also is spacious, commodious, and well lighted. I certainly think that

in housebuilding the Americans have gone beyond us, for even our new houses are not commodious as are

theirs. One practice which they have in their cities would hardly suit our limited London spaces. When the

body of the house is built, they throw out the diningroom behind. It stands alone, as it were, with no other

chamber above it, and removed from the rest of the house. It is consequently behind the double

drawingrooms which form the ground floor, and is approached from them and also from the back of the

hall. The second entrance to the diningroom is thus near the top of the kitchen stairs, which no doubt is its

proper position. The whole of the upper part of the house is thus kept for the private uses of the family. To

I found the spirit for the war quite as hot at Boston now (in November) if not hotter than it was when I was

there ten weeks earlier; and I found also, to my grief, that the feeling against England was as strong. I can

easily understand how difficult it must have been, and still must be, to Englishmen at home to understand

this, and see how it has come to pass. It has not arisen, as I think, from the old jealousy of England. It has not

sprung from that source which for years has induced certain newspapers, especially the New York Herald, to

vilify England. I do not think that the men of New England have ever been, as regards this matter, in the same

boat with the New York Herald. But when this war between the North and South first broke out, even before

there was as yet a war, the Northern men had taught themselves to expect what they called British sympathy,

meaning British encouragement. They regarded, and properly regarded, the action of the South as a rebellion,

and said among themselves that so staid and conservative a nation as Great Britain would surely countenance

them in quelling rebels. If not, should it come to pass that Great Britain should show no such countenance

and sympathy for Northern law, if Great Britain did not respond to her friend as she was expected to respond,

then it would appear that cotton was king, at least in British eyes. The war did come, and Great Britain

regarded the two parties as belligerents, standing, as far as she was concerned, on equal grounds. This it was

that first gave rise to that fretful anger against England which has gone so far toward ruining the Northern

cause. We know how such passions are swelled by being ventilated, and how they are communicated from

mind to mind till they become national. PoliticiansAmerican politicians I here meanhave their own

future careers ever before their eyes, and are driven to make capital where they can. Hence it is that such men

as Mr. Seward in the cabinet, and Mr. Everett out of it, can reconcile it to themselves to speak as they have

done of England. It was but the other day that Mr. Everett spoke, in one of his orations, of the hope that still

existed that the flag of the United States might still float over the whole continent of North America. What

would he say of an English statesman who should speak of putting up the Union Jack on the State House in

Boston? Such words tell for the moment on the hearers, and help to gain some slight popularity; but they tell

And then came the capture of Messrs. Slidell and Mason. I was at Boston when those men were taken out of

the "Trent" by the "San Jacinto," and brought to Fort Warren in Boston Harbor. Captain Wilkes was the

officer who had made the capture, and he immediately was recognized as a hero. He was invited to banquets

and feted. Speeches were made to him as speeches are commonly made to high officers who come home,

after many perils, victorious from the wars. His health was drunk with great applause, and thanks were voted

to him by one of the Houses of Congress. It was said that a sword was to be given to him, but I do not think

that the gift was consummated. Should it not have been a policeman's truncheon? Had he at the best done any

thing beyond a policeman's work? Of Captain Wilkes no one would complain for doing policeman's duty. If

his country were satisfied with the manner in which he did it, England, if she quarreled at all, would not

quarrel with him. It may now and again become the duty of a brave officer to do work of so low a caliber. It

is a pity that an ambitious sailor should find himself told off for so mean a task, but the world would know

that it is not his fault. No one could blame Captain Wilkes for acting policeman on the seas. But who ever

before heard of giving a man glory for achievements so little glorious? How Captain Wilkes must have

blushed when those speeches were made to him, when that talk about the sword came up, when the thanks

arrived to him from Congress! An officer receives his country's thanks when he has been in great peril, and

has borne himself gallantly through his danger; when he has endured the brunt of war, and come through it

with victory; when he has exposed himself on behalf of his country and singed his epaulets with an enemy's

fire. Captain Wilkes tapped a merchantman on the shoulder in the high seas, and told him that his passengers

were wanted. In doing this he showed no lack of spirit, for it might be his duty; but where was his spirit when

And then there arose a clamor of justification among the lawyers; judges and exjudges flew to Wheaton,

Phillimore, and Lord Stowell. Before twentyfour hours were over, every man and every woman in Boston

were armed with precedents. Then there was the burning of the "Caroline." England had improperly burned

the "Caroline" on Lake Erie, or rather in one of the American ports on Lake Erie, and had then begged

pardon. If the States had been wrong, they would beg pardon; but whether wrong or right, they would not

give up Slidell and Mason. But the lawyers soon waxed stronger. The men were manifestly ambassadors, and

as such contraband of war. Wilkes was quite right, only he should have seized the vessel also. He was quite

right, for though Slidell and Mason might not be ambassadors, they were undoubtedly carrying dispatches. In

a few hours there began to be a doubt whether the men could be ambassadors, because if called ambassadors,

then the power that sent the embassy must be presumed to be recognized. That Captain Wilkes had taken no

dispatches, was true; but the captain suggested a way out of this difficulty by declaring that he had regarded

the two men themselves as an incarnated embodiment of dispatches. At any rate, they were clearly

contraband of war. They were going to do an injury to the North. It was pretty to hear the charming women of

Boston, as they became learned in the law of nations: "Wheaton is quite clear about it," one young girl said to

me. It was the first I had ever heard of Wheaton, and so far was obliged to knock under. All the world, ladies

and lawyers, expressed the utmost confidence in the justice of the seizure; but it was clear that all the world

was in a state of the profoundest nervous anxiety on the subject. To me it seemed to be the most suicidal act

that any party in a lifeanddeath struggle ever committed. All Americans on both sides had felt, from the

beginning of the war, that any assistance given by England to one or the other would turn the scale. The

government of Mr. Lincoln must have learned by this time that England was at least true in her neutrality;

that no desire for cotton would compel her to give aid to the South as long as she herself was not ill treated by

the North. But it seemed as though Mr. Seward, the President's Prime Minister, had no better work on hand

than that of showing in every way his indifference as to courtesy with England. Insults offered to England

would, he seemed to think, strengthen his hands. He would let England know that he did not care for her.

When our minister, Lord Lyons, appealed to him regarding the suspension of the habeas corpus, Mr. Seward

not only answered him with insolence, but instantly published his answer in the papers. He instituted a

system of passports, especially constructed so as to incommode Englishmen proceeding from the States

across the Atlantic. He resolved to make every Englishman in America feel himself in some way punished,

because England had not assisted the North. And now came the arrest of Slidell and Mason out of an English

mail steamer, and Mr. Seward took care to let it be understood that, happen what might, those two men

Nothing during all this time astonished me so much as the estimation in which Mr. Seward was then held by

his own party. It is, perhaps, the worst defect in the constitution of the States, that no incapacity on the part of

a minister, no amount of condemnation expressed against him by the people or by Congress, can put him out

of office during the term of the existing Presidency. The President can dismiss him; but it generally happens

that the President is brought in on a "platform" which has already nominated for him his cabinet as

thoroughly as they have nominated him. Mr. Seward ran Mr. Lincoln very hard for the position of candidate

for the Presidency on the Republican interest. On the second voting of the Republican delegates at the

Convention at Chicago, Mr. Seward polled 184 to Mr. Lincoln's 181. But as a clear half of the total number

of votes was necessary that is, 233 out of 465there was necessarily a third polling, and Mr. Lincoln won

the day. On that occasion Mr. Chase and Mr. Cameron, both of whom became members of Mr. Lincoln's

cabinet, were also candidates for the White House on the Republican side. I mention this here to show that

though the President can in fact dismiss his ministers, he is in a great manner bound to them, and that a

minister in Mr. Seward's position is hardly to be dismissed. But from the 1st of November, 1861, till the day

on which I left the States, I do not think that I heard a good word spoken of Mr. Seward as a minister, even by

one of his own party. The Radical or Abolitionist Republicans all abused him. The Conservative or Anti

abolition Republicans, to whose party he would consider himself as belonging, spoke of him as a mistake. He

had been prominent as Senator from New York, and had been Governor of the State of New York, but had

none of the aptitudes of a statesman. He was there, and it was a pity. He was not so bad as Mr. Cameron, the

Minister for War; that was the best his own party could say for him, even in his own State of New York. As

to the Democrats, their language respecting him was as harsh as any that I have heard used toward the

Southern leaders. He seemed to have no friends, no one who trusted him; and yet he was the President's chief

minister, and seemed to have in his own hands the power of mismanaging all foreign relations as he pleased.

But, in truth, the States of America, great as they are, and much as they have done, have not produced

statesmen. That theory of governing by the little men rather than by the great has not been found to answer,

At Boston, and indeed elsewhere, I found that there was even then at the time of the capture of these two

menno true conception of the neutrality of England with reference to the two parties. When any argument

was made, showing that England, who had carried these messengers from the South, would undoubtedly have

also carried messengers from the North, the answer always was"But the Southerners are all rebels. Will

England regard us who are by treaty her friend, as she does a people that is in rebellion against its own

government?" That was the old story over again, and as it was a very long story, it was hardly of use to go

back through all its details. But the fact was that unless there had been such absolute neutralitysuch

equality between the parties in the eyes of Englandeven Captain Wilkes would not have thought of

stopping the "Trent," or the government at Washington of justifying such a proceeding. And it must be

remembered that the government at Washington had justified that proceeding. The Secretary of the Navy had

distinctly done so in his official report; and that report had been submitted to the President and published by

his order. It was because England was neutral between the North and South that Captain Wilkes claimed to

have the right of seizing those two men. It had been the President's intention, some month or so before this

affair, to send Mr. Everett and other gentlemen over to England with objects as regards the North similar to

those which had caused the sending of Slidell and Mason with reference to the South. What would Mr.

Everett have thought had he been refused a passage from Dover to Calais, because the carrying of him would

have been toward the South a breach of neutrality? It would never have occurred to him that he could become

subject to such stoppage. How should we have been abused for Southern sympathies had we so acted! We,

forsooth, who carry passengers about the world, from China and Australia, round to Chili and Peru, who have

the charge of the world's passengers and letters, and as a nation incur out of our pocket annually loss of some

half million of pounds sterling for the privilege of doing so, are to inquire the business of every American

traveler before we let him on board, and be stopped in our work if we take anybody on one side whose

journeyings may be conceived by the other side to be to them prejudicial! Not on such terms will Englishmen

be willing to spread civilization across the ocean! I do not pretend to understand Wheaton and Phillimore, or

even to have read a single word of any international law. I have refused to read any such, knowing that it

would only confuse and mislead me. But I have my common sense to guide me. Two men living in one

street, quarrel and shy brickbats at each other, and make the whole street very uncomfortable. Not only is no

one to interfere with them, but they are to have the privilege of deciding that their brickbats have the right of

way, rather than the ordinary intercourse of the neighborhood! If that be national law, national law must be

changed. It might do for some centuries back, but it cannot do now. Up to this period my sympathies had

been with the North. I thought, and still think, that the North had no alternative, that the war had been forced

upon them, and that they had gone about their work with patriotic energy. But this stopping of an English

What will they do in England? was now the question. But for any knowledge as to that I had to wait till I

The two places of most general interest in the vicinity of Boston are Cambridge and Lowell. Cambridge is to

Massachusetts, and, I may almost say, is to all the Northern States, what Cambridge and Oxford are to

England. It is the seat of the university which gives the highest education to be attained by the highest classes

in that country. Lowell also is in little to Massachusetts and to New England what Manchester is to us in so

great a degree. It is the largest and most prosperous cottonmanufacturing town in the States.

Cambridge is not above three or four miles from Boston. Indeed, the town of Cambridge properly so called

begins where Boston ceases. The Harvard Collegethat is its name, taken from one of its original

foundersis reached by horsecars in twenty minutes from the city. An Englishman feels inclined to regard

the place as a suburb of Boston; but if he so expresses himself, he will not find favor in the eyes of the men of

The university is not so large as I had expected to find it. It consists of Harvard College, as the

undergraduates' department, and of professional schools of law, medicine, divinity, and science. In the few

words that I will say about it I will confine myself to Harvard College proper, conceiving that the

professional schools connected with it have not in themselves any special interest. The average number of

undergraduates does not exceed 450, and these are divided into four classes. The average number of degrees

taken annually by bachelors of art is something under 100. Four years' residence is required for a degree, and

at the end of that period a degree is given as a matter of course if the candidate's conduct has been

satisfactory. When a young man has pursued his studies for that period, going through the required

examinations and lectures, he is not subjected to any final examination as is the case with a candidate for a

degree at Oxford and Cambridge. It is, perhaps, in this respect that the greatest difference exists between the

English universities and Harvard College. With us a young man may, I take it, still go through his three or

four years with a small amount of study. But his doing so does not insure him his degree. If he have utterly

wasted his time he is plucked, and late but heavy punishment comes upon him. At Cambridge, in

Massachusetts, the daily work of the men is made more obligatory; but if this be gone through with such

diligence as to enable the student to hold his own during the four years, he has his degree as a matter of

course. There are no degrees conferring special honor. A man cannot go out "in honors" as he does with us.

There are no "firsts" or "double firsts;" no "wranglers;" no "senior opts" or "junior opts." Nor are there prizes

of fellowships and livings to be obtained. It is, I think, evident from this that the greatest incentives to high

excellence are wanting at Harvard College. There is neither the reward of honor nor of money. There is none

of that great competition which exists at our Cambridge for the high place of Senior Wrangler; and,

consequently, the degree of excellence attained is no doubt lower than with us. But I conceive that the general

level of the university education is higher there than with us; that a young man is more sure of getting his

education, and that a smaller percentage of men leaves Harvard College utterly uneducated than goes in that

condition out of Oxford or Cambridge. The education at Harvard College is more diversified in its nature, and

study is more absolutely the business of the place than it is at our universities.

The expense of education at Harvard College is not much lower than at our colleges; with us there are, no

doubt, more men who are absolutely extravagant than at Cambridge, Massachusetts. The actual authorized

expenditure in accordance with the rules is only 50l. per annum, i.e. 249 dollars; but this does not, by any

means, include everything. Some of the richer young men may spend as much as 300l. per annum, but the

largest number vary their expenditure from 100l. to 180l. per annum; and I take it the same thing may be said

of our universities. There are many young men at Harvard College of very small means. They will live on

70l. per annum, and will earn a great portion of that by teaching in the vacations. There are thirtysix

scholarships attached to the university, varying in value from 20l. to 60l. per annum; and there is also a

beneficiary fund for supplying poor scholars with assistance during their collegiate education. Many are thus

brought up at Cambridge who have no means of their own; and I think I may say that the consideration in

which they are held among their brother students is in no degree affected by their position. I doubt whether

At Harvard College there is, of course, none of that oldfashioned, timehonored, delicious, medieval life

which lends so much grace and beauty to our colleges. There are no gates, no porter's lodges, no butteries, no

halls, no battels, and no common rooms. There are no proctors, no bulldogs, no bursers, no deans, no

morning and evening chapel, no quads, no surplices, no caps and gowns. I have already said that there are no

examinations for degrees and no honors; and I can easily conceive that in the absence of all these essentials

many an Englishman will ask what right Harvard College has to call itself a university.

I have said that there are no honors, and in our sense there are none. But I should give offense to my

American friends if I did not explain that there are prizes givenI think all in money, and that they vary

from fifty to ten dollars. These are called deturs. The degrees are given on Commencement Day, at which

occasion certain of the expectant graduates are selected to take parts in a public literary exhibition. To be so

selected seems to be tantamount to taking a degree in honors. There is also a dinner on Commencement Day,

It is required that every student shall attend some place of Christian worship on Sundays; but he, or his

parents for him, may elect what denomination of church he shall attend. There is a university chapel on the

university grounds which belongs, if I remember aright, to the Episcopalian church. The young men, for the

most part, live in college, having rooms in the college buildings; but they do not board in those rooms. There

are establishments in the town, under the patronage of the university, at which dinner, breakfast, and supper

are provided; and the young men frequent one of these houses or another as they, or their friends for them,

may arrange. Every young man not belonging to a family resident within a hundred miles of Cambridge, and

whose parents are desirous to obtain the protection thus provided, is placed, as regards his pecuniary

management, under the care of a patron; and this patron acts by him as a father does in England by a boy at

school. He pays out his money for him and keeps him out of debt. The arrangement will not recommend itself

to young men at Oxford quite so powerfully as it may do to the fathers of some young men who have been

there. The rules with regard to the lodging and boarding houses are very stringent. Any festive entertainment

is to be reported to the president. No wine or spirituous liquors may be used, etc. It is not a picturesque

There is a handsome library attached to the college which the young men can use, but it is not as extensive as

I had expected. The university is not well off for funds by which to increase it. The new museum in the

college is also a handsome building. The edifices used for the undergraduates' chambers and for the lecture

rooms are by no means handsome. They are very ugly, red brick houses, standing here and there without

order. There are seven such; and they are called Brattle House, College House, Divinity Hall, Hollis Hall,

Holsworthy Hall, Massachusetts Hall, and Stoughton Hall. It is almost astonishing that buildings so ugly

should have been erected for such a purpose. These, together with the library, the museum, and the chapel,

stand on a large green, which might be made pretty enough if it were kept well mown, like the gardens of our

Cambridge colleges; but it is much neglected. Here, again, the want of fundsthe auqusta res domimust

be pleaded as an excuse. On the same green, but at some little distance from any other building, stands the

The immediate direction of the college is of course mainly in the hands of the president, who is supreme. But

for the general management of the institution there is a corporation, of which he is one. It is stated in the laws

of the university that the Corporation of the University and its Overseers constitute the Government of the

University. The Corporation consists of the President, five Fellows so called, and a Treasurer. These Fellows

are chosen, as vacancies occur, by themselves, subject to the concurrence of the Overseers. But these Fellows

are in nowise like to the Fellows of our colleges, having no salaries attached to their offices. The Board of

Overseers consists of the State Governor, other State officers, the President and Treasurer of Harvard

College, and thirty other persons, men of note, chosen by vote. The Faculty of the College, in which is vested

the immediate care and government of the undergraduates, is composed of the President and the Professors.

The Professors answer to the tutors of our colleges, and upon them the education of the place depends. I

cannot complete this short notice of Harvard College without saying that it is happy in the possession of that

distinguished natural philosopher Professor Agassiz. M. Agassiz has collected at Cambridge a museum of

such things as natural philosophers delight to show, which I am told is all but invaluable. As my ignorance on

all such matters is of a depth which the professor can hardly imagine, and which it would have shocked him

to behold, I did not visit the museum. Taking the University of Harvard College as a whole, I should say that

it is most remarkable in thisthat it does really give to its pupils that education which it professes to give. Of

our own universities other good things may be said, but that one special good thing cannot always be said.

Cambridge boasts itself as the residence of four or five men well known to fame on the American and also on

the European side of the ocean. President Felton's* name is very familiar to us; and wherever Greek

scholarship is held in repute, that is known. So also is the name of Professor Agassiz, of whom I have spoken.

Russell Lowell is one of the professors of the collegethat Russell Lowell who sang of Birdofredum Sawin,

and whose Biglow Papers were edited with such an ardor of love by our Tom Brown, Birdofredum is worthy

of all the ardor. Mr. Dana is also a Cambridge manhe who was "two years before the mast," and who since

that has written to us of Cuba. But Mr. Dana, though residing at Cambridge, is not of Cambridge; and, though

a literary man, he does not belong to literature. He iscould he help it?a "special attorney." I must not,

however, degrade him; for in the States barristers and attorneys are all one. I cannot but think that he could

help it, and that he should not give up to law what was meant for mankind. I fear, however, that successful

Law has caught him in her intolerant clutches, and that Literature, who surely would be the nobler mistress,

must wear the willow. Last and greatest is the poetlaureate of the West, for Mr. Longfellow also lives at

* Since these words were written President Felton has diedI, as I returned on my way homeward, had the

melancholy privilege of being present at his funeral. I feel bound to record here the great kindness with which

Mr. Felton assisted me in obtaining such information as I needed respecting the institution over which he

I am not at all aware whether the nature of the manufacturing corporation of Lowell is generally understood

by Englishmen. I confess that until I made personal acquaintance with the plan, I was absolutely ignorant on

the subject. I knew that Lowell was a manufacturing town at which cotton is made into calico, and at which

calico is printedas is the case at Manchester; but I conceived this was done at Lowell, as it is done at

Manchester, by individual enterprisethat I or any one else could open a mill at Lowell, and that the

manufacturers there were ordinary traders, as they are at other manufacturing towns. But this is by no means

That which most surprises an English visitor on going through the mills at Lowell is the personal appearance

of the men and women who work at them. As there are twice as many women as there are men, it is to them

that the attention is chiefly called. They are not only better dressed, cleaner, and better mounted in every

respect than the girls employed at manufactories in England, but they are so infinitely superior as to make a

stranger immediately perceive that some very strong cause must have created the difference. We all know the

class of young women whom we generally see serving behind counters in the shops of our larger cities. They

are neat, well dressed, careful, especially about their hair, composed in their manner, and sometimes a little

supercilious in the propriety of their demeanor. It is exactly the same class of young women that one sees in

the factories at Lowell. They are not sallow, nor dirty, nor ragged, nor rough. They have about them no signs

of want, or of low culture. Many of us also know the appearance of those girls who work in the factories in

England; and I think it will be allowed that a second glance at them is not wanting to show that they are in

every respect inferior to the young women who attend our shops. The matter, indeed, requires no argument.

Any young woman at a shop would be insulted by being asked whether she had worked at a factory. The

difference with regard to the men at Lowell is quite as strong, though not so striking. Working men do not

show their status in the world by their outward appearance as readily as women; and, as I have said before,

One would of course be disposed to say that the superior condition of the workers must have been occasioned

by superior wages; and this, to a certain extent, has been the cause. But the higher payment is not the chief

cause. Women's wages, including all that they receive at the Lowell factories, average about 14s. a week,

which is, I take it, fully a third more than women can earn in Manchester, or did earn before the loss of the

American cotton began to tell upon them. But if wages at Manchester were raised to the Lowell standard, the

Manchester women would not be clothed, fed, cared for, and educated like the Lowell women. The fact is,

that the workmen and the workwomen at Lowell are not exposed to the chances of an open labor market.

They are taken in, as it were, to a philanthropical manufacturing college, and then looked after and regulated

more as girls and lads at a great seminary, than as hands by whose industry profit is to be made out of capital.

This is all very nice and pretty at Lowell, but I am afraid it could not be done at Manchester.

There are at present twelve different manufactories at Lowell, each of which has what is called a separate

corporation. The Merrimack Manufacturing Company was incorporated in 1822, and thus Lowell was

commenced. The Lowell Machineshop was incorporated in 1845, and since that no new establishment has

been added. In 1821, a certain Boston manufacturing company, which had mills at Waltham, near Boston,

was attracted by the waterpower of the River Merrimack, on which the present town of Lowell is situated. A

canal called the Pawtucket Canal had been made for purposes of navigation from one reach of the river to

another, with the object of avoiding the Pawtucket Falls; and this canal, with the adjacent waterpower of the

river, was purchased for the Boston company. The place was then called Lowell, after one of the partners in

It must be understood that waterpower alone is used for preparing the cotton and working the spindles and

looms of the cotton mills. Steam is applied in the two establishments in which the cottons are printed, for the

purposes of printing, but I think nowhere else. When the mills are at full work, about two and a half million

yards of cotton goods are made every week, and nearly a million pounds of cotton are consumed per week, (i

e. 842,000 lbs.,) but the consumption of coal is only 30,000 tons in the year. This will give some idea of the

value of the waterpower. The Pawtucket Canal was, as I say, bought, and Lowell was commenced. The

town was incorporated in 1826, and the railway between it and Boston was opened in 1835, under the

superintendence of Mr. Jackson, the gentleman by whom the purchase of the canal had in the first instance

The following extract is taken from the handbook to Lowell: "Mr. F. C. Lowell had, in his travels abroad,

observed the effect of large manufacturing establishments on the character of the people, and in the

establishment at Waltham the founders looked for a remedy for these defects. They thought that education

and good morals would even enhance the profit, and that they could compete with Great Britain by

introducing a more cultivated class of operatives. For this purpose they built boardinghouses, which, under

the direct supervision of the agent, were kept by discreet matrons"I can answer for the discreet matrons at

Lowell"mostly widows, no boarders being allowed except operatives. Agents and overseers of high moral

character were selected; regulations were adopted at the mills and boardinghouses, by which only

respectable girls were employed. The mills were nicely painted and swept"I can also answer for the

painting and sweeping at Lowell"trees set out in the yards and along the streets, habits of neatness and

cleanliness encouraged; and the result justified the expenditure. At Lowell the same policy has been adopted

and extended; more spacious mills and elegant boardinghouses have been erected;" as to the elegance, it

may be a matter of taste, but as to the comfort, there is no question"the same care as to the classes

employed; more capital has been expended for cleanliness and decoration; a hospital has been established for

the sick, where, for a small price, they have an experienced physician and skillful nurses. An institute, with an

extensive library, for the use of the mechanics, has been endowed. The agents have stood forward in the

support of schools, churches, lectures, and lyceums, and their influence contributed highly to the elevation of

the moral and intellectual character of the operatives. Talent has been encouraged, brought forward, and

recommended." For some considerable time the young women wrote, edited, and published a newspaper

among themselves, called the Lowell Offering. "And Lowell has supplied agents and mechanics for the later

manufacturing places who have given tone to society, and extended the beneficial influence of Lowell

through the United States. Girls from the country, with a true Yankee spirit of independence, and confident in

their own powers, pass a few years here, and then return to get married with a dower secured by their

exertions, with more enlarged ideas and extended means of information, and their places are supplied by

younger relatives. A large proportion of the female population of New England has been employed at some

time in manufacturing establishments, and they are not on this account less good wives, mothers, or educators

of families." Then the account goes on to tell how the health of the girls has been improved by their

attendance at the mills; how they put money into the savings banks, and buy railway shares and farms; how

there are thirty churches in Lowell, a library, banks, and insurance office,; how there is a cemetery, and a

park; and how everything is beautiful, philanthropic, profitable, and magnificent.

Thus Lowell is the realization of a commercial Utopia. Of all the statements made in the little book which I

have quoted, I cannot point out one which is exaggerated, much less false. I should not call the place elegant;

in other respects I am disposed to stand by the book. Before I had made any inquiry into the cause of the

apparent comfort, it struck me at once that some great effort at excellence was being made. I went into one of

the discreet matrons' residences; and, perhaps, may give but an indifferent idea of her discretion, when I say

that she allowed me to go into the bedrooms. If you want to ascertain the inner ways or habits of life of any

man, woman, or child, see, if it be practicable to do so, his or her bedroom. You will learn more by a

minute's glance round that holy of holies, than by any conversation. Looking glasses and such like,

suspended dresses, and toiletbelongings, if taken without notice, cannot lie or even exaggerate. The discreet

matron at first showed me rooms only prepared for use, for at the period of my visit Lowell was by no means

full; but she soon became more intimate with me, and I went through the upper part of the house. My report

must be altogether in her favor and in that of Lowell. Everything was cleanly, well ordered, and feminine.

There was not a bed on which any woman need have hesitated to lay herself if occasion required it. I fear that

this cannot be said of the lodgings of the manufacturing classes at Manchester. The boarders all take their

meals together. As a rule, they have meat twice a day. Hot meat for dinner is with them as much a matter of

course, or probably more so, than with any Englishman or woman who may read this book. For in the States

of America regulations on this matter are much more rigid than with us. Cold meat is rarely seen, and to live

a day without meat would be as great a privation as to pass a night without bed.

The rules for the guidance of these boardinghouses are very rigid. The houses themselves belong to the

corporations, or different manufacturing establishments, and the tenants are altogether in the power of the

managers. None but operatives are to be taken in. The tenants are answerable for improper conduct. The

doors are to be closed at ten o'clock. Any boarders who do not attend divine worship are to be reported to the

managers. The yards and walks are to be kept clean, and snow removed at once; and the inmates must be

vaccinated, etc. etc. etc. It is expressly stated by the Hamilton Companyand I believe by all the

companiesthat no one shall be employed who is habitually absent from public worship on Sunday, or who

is known to be guilty of immorality, it is stated that the average wages of the women are two dollars, or eight

shillings, a week, besides their board. I found when I was there that from three dollars to three and a half a

week were paid to the women, of which they paid one dollar and twentyfive cents for their board. As this

would not fully cover the expense of their keep, twentyfive cents a week for each was also paid to the

boardinghouse keepers by the mill agents. This substantially came to the same thing, as it left the two

dollars a week, or eight shillings, with the girls over and above their cost of living. The board included

washing, lights, food, bed, and attendanceleaving a surplus of eight shillings a week for clothes and

saving. Now let me ask any one acquainted with Manchester and its operatives, whether that is not Utopia

realized. Factory girls, for whom every comfort of life is secured, with 21l. a year over for saving and dress!

One sees the failing, however, at a moment. It is Utopia. Any Lady Bountiful can tutor three or four peasants

and make them luxuriously comfortable. But no Lady Bountiful can give luxurious comfort to half a dozen

parishes. Lowell is now nearly forty years old, and contains but 40,000 inhabitants. From the very nature of

its corporations it cannot spread itself. Chicago, which has grown out of nothing in a much shorter period,

and which has no factories, has now 120,000 inhabitants. Lowell is a very wonderful place and shows what

There are, however, other establishments, conducted on the same principle as those at Lowell, which have

had the same amount, or rather the same sort of success. Lawrence is now a town of about 15,000 inhabitants,

and Manchester of about 24,000, if I remember rightly; and at those places the mills are also owned by

corporations and conducted as are those at Lowell. But it seems to me that as New England takes her place in

the world as a great mannfacturing countrywhich place she undoubtedly will take sooner or latershe

must abandon the hothouse method of providing for her operatives with which she has commenced her

work. In the first place, Lowell is not open as a manufacturing town to the capitalists even of New England at

large. Stock may, I presume, be bought in the corporations, but no interloper can establish a mill there. It is a

close manufacturing community, bolstered up on all sides, and has none of that capacity for providing

employment for a thickly growing population which belongs to such places as Manchester and Leeds. That it

should under its present system have been made in any degree profitable reflects great credit on the

managers; but the profit does reach an amount which in America can be considered as remunerative. The

total capital invested by the twelve corporations is thirteen million and a half of dollars, or about two million

seven hundred thousand pounds. In only one of the corporations, that of the Merrimack Company, does the

profit amount to twelve per cent. In one, that of the Booth Company, it falls below seven per cent. The

average profit of the various establishments is something below nine per cent. I am of course speaking of

Lowell as it was previous to the war. American capitalists are not, as a rule, contented with so low a rate of

The States in these matters have had a great advantage over England. They have been able to begin at the

beginning. Manufactories have grown up among us as our cities grewfrom the necessities and chances of

the times. When labor was wanted it was obtained in the ordinary way; and so when houses were built they

were built in the ordinary way. We had not the experience, and the results either for good or bad, of other

nations to guide us. The Americans, in seeing and resolving to adopt our commercial successes, have

resolved also, if possible, to avoid the evils which have attended those successes. It would be very desirable

that all our factory girls should read and write, wear clean clothes, have decent beds, and eat hot meat every

day. But that is now impossible. Gradually, with very uphill work, but still I trust with sure work, much will

be done to improve their position and render their life respectable; but in England we can have no Lowells. In

our thickly populated island any commercial Utopia is out of the question. Nor can, as I think, Lowell be

taken as a type of the future manufacturing towns of New England. When New England employs millions in

her factories instead of thousandsthe hands employed at Lowell, when the mills are at full work, are about

11,000she must cease to provide for them their beds and meals, their churchgoing proprieties and orderly

modes of life. In such an attempt she has all the experience of the world against her. But nevertheless I think

she will have done much good. The tone which she will have given will not altogether lose its influence.

Employment in a factory is now considered reputable by a farmer and his children, and this idea will remain.

Factory work is regarded as more respectable than domestic service, and this prestige will not wear itself

altogether out. Those now employed have a strong conception of the dignity of their own social position, and

their successors will inherit much of this, even though they may find themselves excluded from the

advantages of the present Utopia. The thing has begun well, but it can only be regarded as a beginning.

Steam, it may be presumed, will become the motive power of cotton mills in New England as it is with us;

and when it is so, the amount of work to be done at any one place will not be checked by any such limit as

that which now prevails at Lowell. Waterpower is very cheap, but it cannot be extended; and it would seem

that no place can become large as a manufacturing town which has to depend chiefly upon water. It is not

improbable that steam may be brought into general use at Lowell, and that Lowell may spread itself. If it

One cannot but be greatly struck by the spirit of philanthropy in which the system of Lowell was at first

instituted. It may be presumed that men who put their money into such an undertaking did so with the object

of commercial profit to themselves; but in this case that was not their first object. I think it may be taken for

granted that when Messrs. Jackson and Lowell went about their task, their grand idea was to place factory

work upon a respectable footingto give employment in mills which should not be unhealthy, degrading,

demoralizing, or hard in its circumstances. Throughout the Northern States of America the same feeling is to

be seen. Good and thoughtful men have been active to spread education, to maintain health, to make work

compatible with comfort and personal dignity, and to divest the ordinary lot of man of the sting of that curse

which was supposed to be uttered when our first father was ordered to eat his bread in the sweat of his brow.

One is driven to contrast this feeling, of which on all sides one sees such ample testimony, with that sharp

desire for profit, that anxiety to do a stroke of trade at every turn, that acknowledged necessity of being smart,

which we must own is quite as general as the nobler propensity. I believe that both phases of commercial

activity may be attributed to the same characteristic. Men in trade in America are not more covetous than

tradesmen in England, nor probably are they more generous or philanthropical. But that which they do, they

are more anxious to do thoroughly and quickly. They desire that every turn taken shall be a great turnor at

any rate that it shall be as great as possible. They go ahead either for bad or good with all the energy they

have. In the institutions at Lowell I think we may allow that the good has very much prevailed.

I went over two of the mills, those of the Merrimack corporation and of the Massachusetts. At the former the

printing establishment only was at work; the cotton mills were closed. I hardly know whether it will interest

any one to learn that something under half a million yards of calico are here printed annually. At the Lowell

Bleachery fifteen million yards are dyed annually. The Merrimack Cotton Mills were stopped, and so had the

other mills at Lowell been stopped, till some short time before my visit. Trade had been bad, and there had of

course been a lack of cotton. I was assured that no severe suffering had been created by this stoppage. The

greater number of hands had returned into the countryto the farms from whence they had come; and

though a discontinuance of work and wages had of course produced hardship, there had been no actual

privationno hunger and want. Those of the workpeople who had no homes out of Lowell to which to

betake themselves, and no means at Lowell of living, had received relief before real suffering had begun. I

was assured, with something of a smile of contempt at the question, that there had been nothing like hunger.

But, as I said before, visitors always see a great deal of rose color, and should endeavor to allay the brilliancy

of the tint with the proper amount of human shading. But do not let any visitor mix in the browns with too

At the Massachusetts Cotton Mills they were working with about two thirds of their full number of hands,

and this, I was told, was about the average of the number now employed throughout Lowell. Working at this

rate they had now on hand a supply of cotton to last them for six months. Their stocks had been increased

lately, and on asking from whence, I was informed that that last received had come to them from Liverpool.

There is, I believe, no doubt but that a considerable quantity of cotton has been shipped back from England to

the States since the civil war began. I asked the gentleman, to whose care at Lowell I was consigned, whether

he expected to get cotton from the Southfor at that time Beaufort, in South Carolina, had just been taken

by the naval expedition. He had, he said, a political expectation of a supply of cotton, but not a commercial

expectation. That at least was the gist of his reply, and I found it to be both intelligent and intelligible. The

Massachusetts Mills, when at full work, employ 1300 females and 400 males, and turn out 540,000 yards of

On my return from Lowell in the smoking car, an old man came and squeezed in next to me. The place was

terribly crowded, and as the old man was thin and clean and quiet, I willingly made room for him, so as to

avoid the contiguity of a neighbor who might be neither thin, nor clean, nor quiet. He began talking to me in

whispers about the war, and I was suspicious that he was a Southerner and a secessionist. Under such

circumstances his company might not be agreeable, unless he could be induced to hold his tongue. At last he

said, "I come from Canada, you know, and youyou're an Englishman, and therefore I can speak to you

openly;" and he gave me an affectionate grip on the knee with his old skinny hand. I suppose I do look more

like an Englishman than an American, but I was surprised at his knowing me with such certainty. "There is

no mistaking you," he said, "with your round face and your red cheeks. They don't look like that here," and he

gave me another grip. I felt quite fond of the old man, and offered him a cigar.

We all know that the subject which appears above as the title of this chapter is a very favorite subject in

America. It is, I hope, a very favorite subject here also, and I am inclined to think has been so for many years

past. The rights of women, as contradistinguished from the wrongs of women, has perhaps been the most

precious of the legacies left to us by the feudal ages. How, amid the rough darkness of old Teuton rule,

women began to receive that respect which is now their dearest right, is one of the most interesting studies of

history. It came, I take it, chiefly from their own conduct. The women of the old classic races seem to have

enjoyed but a small amount of respect or of rights, and to have deserved as little. It may have been very well

for one Caesar to have said that his wife should be above suspicion; but his wife was put away, and therefore

either did not have her rights, or else had justly forfeited them. The daughter of the next Caesar lived in Rome

the life of a Messalina, and did not on that account seem to have lost her "position in society," till she

absolutely declined to throw any vail whatever over her propensities. But as the Roman empire fell, chivalry

began. For a time even chivalry afforded but a dull time to the women. During the musical period of the

Troubadours, ladies, I fancy, had but little to amuse them save the music. But that was the beginning, and

from that time downward the rights of women have progressed very favorably. It may be that they have not

yet all that should belong to them. If that be the case, let the men lose no time in making up the difference.

But it seems to me that the women who are now making their claims may perhaps hardly know when they are

well off. It will be an ill movement if they insist on throwing away any of the advantages they have won. As

for the women in America especially, I must confess that I think they have a "good time." I make them my

compliments on their sagacity, intelligence, and attractions, but I utterly refuse to them any sympathy for

supposed wrongs. O fortunatas, sua si bona norint! Whether or no, were I an American married man and

father of a family, I should not go in for the rights of manthat is altogether another question.

This question of the rights of women divides itself into two heads one of which is very important, worthy

of much consideration, capable perhaps of much philanthropic action, and at any rate affording matter for

grave discussion. This is the question of women's work: How far the work of the world, which is now borne

chiefly by men, should be thrown open to women further than is now done? The other seems to me to be

worthy of no consideration, to be capable of no action, to admit of no grave discussion. This refers to the

political rights of women: How far the political working of the world, which is now entirely in the hands of

men, should be divided between them and women? The first question is being debated on our side of the

Atlantic as keenly perhaps as on the American side. As to that other question, I do not know that much has

"You are doing nothing in England toward the employment of females," a lady said to me in one of the States

soon after my arrival in America. "Pardon me," I answered, "I think we are doing much, perhaps too much.

At any rate we are doing something." I then explained to her how Miss Faithful had instituted a printing

establishment in London; how all the work in that concern was done by females, except such heavy tasks as

those for which women could not be fitted, and I handed to her one of Miss Faithful's cards. "Ah," said my

American friend, "poor creatures! I have no doubt their very flesh will be worked off their bones." I thought

this a little unjust on her part; but nevertheless it occurred to me as an answer not unfit to be made by some

other ladyby some woman who had not already advocated the increased employment of women. Let Miss

Faithful look to that. Not that she will work the flesh off her young women's bones, or allow such terrible

consequences to take place in Coram Street; not that she or that those connected with her in that enterprise

will do aught but good to those employed therein. It will not even be said of her individually, or of her

partners, that they have worked the flesh off women's bones; but may it not come to this, that when the tasks

now done by men have been shifted to the shoulders of women, women themselves will so complain? May it

not go further, and come even to this, that women will have cause for such complaint? I do not think that such

a result will come, because I do not think that the object desired by those who are active in the matter will be

attained. Men, as a general rule among civilized nations, have elected to earn their own bread and the bread

of the women also, and from this resolve on their part I do not think that they will be beaten off.

We know that Mrs. Dall, an American lady, has taken up this subject, and has written a book on it, in which

great good sense and honesty of purpose is shown. Mrs. Dall is a strong advocate for the increased

employment of women, and I, with great deference, disagree with her. I allude to her book now because she

has pointed out, I think very strongly, the great reason why women do not engage themselves advantageously

in trade pursuits. She by no means overpraises her own sex, and openly declares that young women will not

consent to place themselves in fair competition with men. They will not undergo the labor and servitude of

long study at their trades. They will not give themselves up to an apprenticeship. They will not enter upon

their tasks as though they were to be the tasks of their lives. They may have the same physical and mental

aptitudes for learning a trade as men, but they have not the same devotion to the pursuit, and will not bind

themselves to it thoroughly as men do. In all which I quite agree with Mrs. Dall; and the English of it

God forbid that they should not so want. Indeed, God has forbidden in a very express way that there should

be any lack of such a desire on the part of women. There has of late years arisen a feeling among masses of

the best of our English ladies that this feminine propensity should be checked. We are told that unmarried

women may be respectable, which we always knew; that they may be useful, which we also

acknowledgethinking still that, if married, they would be more useful; and that they may be happy, which

we trustfeeling confident, however, that they might in another position be more happy. But the question is

not only as to the respectability, usefulness, and happiness of womankind, but as to that of men also. If

women can do without marriage, can men do so? And if not, how are the men to get wives, if the women

It will be thought that I am treating the subject as though it were simply jocose, but I beg to assure my reader

that such is not my intention. It certainly is the fact that that disinclination to an apprenticeship and

unwillingness to bear the long training for a trade, of which Mrs. Dall complains on the part of young

women, arise from the fact that they have other hopes with which such apprenticeships would jar; and it is

also certain that if such disinclination be overcome on the part of any great number, it must be overcome by

the destruction or banishment of such hopes. The question is whether good or evil would result from such a

change. It is often said that whatever difficulty a woman may have in getting a husband, no man need

encounter difficulty in finding a wife. But, in spite of this seeming fact, I think it must be allowed that if

women are withdrawn from the marriage market, men must be withdrawn from it also to the same extent.

In any broad view of this matter, we are bound to look not on any individual case, and the possible remedies

for such cases, but on the position in the world occupied by women in generalon the general happiness and

welfare of the aggregate feminine world, and perhaps also a little on the general happiness and welfare of the

aggregate male world. When ladies and gentlemen advocate the right of women to employment, they are

taking very different ground from that on which stand those less extensive philanthropists who exert

themselves for the benefit of distressed needlewomen, for instance, or for the alleviation of the more bitter

misery of governesses. The two questions are in fact absolutely antagonistic to each other. The

rightsofwomen advocate is doing his best to create that position for women from the possible misfortunes

of which the friend of the needlewomen is struggling to relieve them. The one is endeavoring to throw work

from off the shoulders of men on to the shoulders of women, and the other is striving to lessen the burden

which women are already bearing. Of course it is good to relieve distress in individual cases. That Song of

the Shirt, which I regard as poetry of the immortal kind, has done an amount of good infinitely wider than

poor Hood ever ventured to hope. Of all such efforts I would speak not only with respect, but with loving

admiration. But of those whose efforts are made to spread work more widely among womento call upon

them to make for us our watches, to print our books, to sit at our desks as clerks and to add up our

accountsmuch as I may respect the individual operators in such a movement, I can express no admiration

I have seen women with ropes round their necks drawing a harrow over plowed ground. No one will, I

suppose, say that they approve of that. But it would not have shocked me to see men drawing a harrow. I

should have thought it slow, unprofitable work; but my feelings would not have been hurt. There must,

therefore, be some limit; but if we men teach ourselves to believe that work is good for women, where is the

limit to be drawn, and who shall draw it? It is true that there is now no actually defined limit. There is much

work that is commonly open to both sexes. Personal domestic attendance is so, and the attendance in shops.

The use of the needle is shared between men and women; and few, I take it, know where the seamstress ends

and where the tailor begins. In many trades a woman can be, and very often is, the owner and manager of the

business. Painting is as much open to women as to men, as also is literature. There can be no defined limit;

but nevertheless there is at present a quasi limit, which the rightsofwomen advocates wish to move, and so

to move that women shall do more work and not less. A woman now could not well be a cabdriver in

London; but are these advocates sure that no woman will be a cab driver when success has attended their

efforts? And would they like to see a woman driving a cab? For my part, I confess I do not like to see a

woman acting as roadkeeper on a French railway. I have seen a woman acting as hostler at a public stage in

Ireland. I knew the circumstanceshow her husband had become ill and incapable, and how she had been

allowed to earn the wages; but nevertheless the sight was to me disagreeable, and seemed, as far as it went, to

degrade the sex. Chivalry has been very active in raising women from the hard and hardening tasks of the

world; and through this action they have become soft, tender, and virtuous. It seems to me that they of whom

The argument used is of course plain enough. It is said that women are left destitute in the worlddestitute

unless they can be self dependent, and that to women should be given the same open access to wages that

men possess, in order that they may be as self dependent as men. Why should a young woman, for whom no

father is able to provide, not enjoy those means of provision which are open to a young man so

circumstanced? But I think the answer is very simple. The young man, under the happiest circumstances

which may befall him, is bound to earn his bread. The young woman is only so bound when happy

circumstances do not befall her. Should we endeavor to make the recurrence of unhappy circumstances more

general or less so? What does any tradesman, any professional man, any mechanic wish for his children? Is it

not this, that his sons shall go forth and earn their bread, and that his daughters shall remain with him till they

are married? Is not that the mother's wish? Is it not notorious that such is the wish of us all as to our

daughters? In advocating the rights of women it is of other men's girls that we think, never of our own.

But, nevertheless, what shall we do for those women who must earn their bread by their own work? Whatever

we do, do not let us willfully increase their number. By opening trades to women, by making them printers,

watchmakers, accountants, or what not, we shall not simply relieve those who must now earn their bread by

some such work or else starve. It will not be within our power to stop ourselves exactly at a certain point; to

arrange that those women who under existing circumstances may now be in want shall be thus placed beyond

want, but that no others shall be affected. Men, I fear, will be too willing to relieve themselves of some

portion of their present burden, should the world's altered ways enable them to do so. At present a lawyer's

clerk may earn perhaps his two guineas a week, and he with his wife live on that in fair comfort. But if his

wife, as well as he, has been brought up as a lawyer's clerk, he will look to her also for some amount of

wages. I doubt whether the two guineas would be much increased, but I do not doubt at all that the woman's

It seems to me that in discussing this subject philanthropists fail to take hold of the right end of the argument.

Money returns from work are very good, and work itself is good, as bringing such returns and occupying both

body and mind; but the world's work is very hard, and workmen are too often overdriven. The question seems

to me to be thisof all this work have the men got on their own backs too heavy a share for them to bear,

and should they seek relief by throwing more of it upon women? It is the rights of man that we are in fact

debating. These watches are weary to make, and this type is troublesome to set, We have battles to fight and

speeches to make, and our hands altogether are too full. The women are idlemany of them. They shall

make the watches for us and set the type; and when they have done that, why should they not make nails as

they do sometimes in Worcestershire, or clean horses, or drive the cabs? They have had an easy time of it for

these years past, but we'll change that. And then it would come to pass that with ropes round their necks the

I don't think this will come to pass. The women generally do know when they are well off, and are not

particularly anxious to accept the philanthropy proffered to themas Mrs. Dall says, they do not wish to

bind themselves as apprentices to independent moneymaking. This cry has been louder in America than

with us, but even in America it has not been efficacious for much. There is in the States, no doubt, a sort of

hankering after increased influence, a desire for that prominence of position which men attain by loud voices

and brazen foreheads, a desire in the female heart to be up and doing something, if the female heart only

knew what; but even in the States it has hardly advanced beyond a few feminine lectures. In many branches

of work women are less employed than in England. They are not so frequent behind counters in the shops,

and are rarely seen as servants in hotels. The fires in such houses are lighted and the rooms swept by men.

But the American girls may say they do not desire to light fires and sweep rooms. They are ambitious of the

higher classes of work. But those higher branches of work require study, apprenticeship, a devotion of youth;

and that they will not give. It is very well for a young man to bind himself for four years, and to think of

marrying four years after that apprenticeship be over. But such a prospectus will not do for a girl. While the

sun shines the hay must be made, and her sun shines earlier in the day than that of him who is to be her

husband. Let him go through the apprenticeship and the work, and she will have sufficient on her hands if she

looks well after his household. Under nature's teaching she is aware of this, and will not bind herself to any

I remember seeing, either at New York or Boston, a wooden figure of a neat young woman, as large as life,

standing at a desk with a ledger before her, and looking as though the beau ideal of human bliss were realized

in her employment. Under the figure there was some notice respecting female accountants. Nothing could be

nicer than the lady's figure, more flowing than the broad lines of her drapery, or more attractive than her

auburn ringlets. There she stood at work, earning her bread without any impediment to the natural operation

of her female charms, and adjusting the accounts of some great firm with as much facility as grace. I wonder

whether he who designed that figure had ever sat or stood at a desk for six hours; whether he knew the dull

hum of the brain which comes from long attention to another man's figures; whether he had ever soiled his

own fingers with the everlasting work of office hours, or worn his sleeves threadbare as he leaned, weary in

body and mind, upon his desk? Work is a grand thingthe grandest thing we have; but work is not

picturesque, graceful, and in itself alluring. It sucks the sap out of men's bones, and bends their backs, and

sometimes breaks their hearts; but though it be so, I for one would not wish to throw any heavier share of it

on to a woman's shoulders. It was pretty to see those young women with spectacles at the Boston library; but

when I heard that they were there from eight in the morning till nine at night, I pitied them their loss of all the

softness of home, and felt that they would not willingly be there, if necessity were less stern.

Say that by advocating the rights of women, philanthropists succeed in apportioning more work to their share,

will they eat more, wear better clothes, lie softer, and have altogether more of the fruits of work than they do

now? That some would do so there can be no doubt; but as little that some would have less. If on the whole

they would not have more, for what good result is the movement made? The first question is, whether at the

present time they have less than their proper share. There are, unquestionably, terrible cases of female want;

and so there are also of want among men. Alas! do we not all feel that it must be so, let the philanthropists be

ever so energetic? And if a woman be left destitute, without the assistance of father, brother, or husband, it

would be hard if no means of earning subsistence were open to her. But the object now sought is not that of

relieving such distress. It has a much wider tendency, or at any rate a wider desire. The idea is that women

will ennoble themselves by making themselves independent, by working for their own bread instead of eating

bread earned by men. It is in that that these new philosophers seem to me to err so greatly. Humanity and

chivalry have succeeded, after a long struggle, in teaching the man to work for the woman; and now the

woman rebels against such teachingnot because she likes the work, but because she desires the influence

which attends it. But in this I wrong the womaneven the American woman. It is not she who desires it, but

If work were more equally divided between the sexes, some women would, of course, receive more of the

good things of the world. But women generally would not do so. The tendency, then, would be to force

young women out upon their own exertions. Fathers would soon learn to think that their daughters should be

no more dependent on them than their sons; men would expect their wives to work at their own trades;

brothers would be taught to think it hard that their sisters should lean on them, and thus women, driven upon

After all it is a question of money, and a contest for that power and influence which money gives. At present,

men have the position of the Lower House of Parliamentthey have to do the harder work, but they hold the

purse. Even in England there has grown up a feeling that the old law of the land gives a married man too

much power over the joint pecuniary resources of him and his wife, and in America this feeling is much

stronger, and the old law has been modified. Why should a married woman be able to possess nothing? And

if such be the law of the land, is it worth a woman's while to marry and put herself in such a position? Those

are the questions asked by the friends of the rights of women. But the young women do marry, and the men

If little has as yet been done in extending the rights of women by giving them a greater share of the work of

the world, still less has been done toward giving them their portion of political influence. In the States there

are many men of mark, and women of mark also, who think that women should have votes for public

elections. Mr. Wendell Phillips, the Boston lecturer who advocates abolition, is an apostle in this cause also;

and while I was at Boston I read the provisions of a will lately left by a millionaire, in which he bequeathed

some very large sums of money to be expended in agitation on this subject. A woman is subject to the law;

why then should she not help to make the law? A child is subject to the law, and does not help to make it; but

the child lacks that discretion which the woman enjoys equally with the man. That I take it is the amount of

the argument in favor of the political rights of women. The logic of this is so conclusive that I am prepared to

acknowledge that it admits of no answer. I will only say that the mutual good relations between men and

women, which are so indispensable to our happiness, require that men and women should not take to voting

at the same time and on the same result. If it be decided that women shall have political power, let them have

it all to themselves for a season. If that be so resolved, I think we may safely leave it to them to name the time

I confess that in the States I have sometimes been driven to think that chivalry has been carried too farthat

there is an attempt to make women think more of the rights of their womanhood than is needful. There are

ladies' doors at hotels, and ladies' drawing rooms, ladies' sides on the ferryboats, ladies' windows at the

postoffice for the delivery of letterswhich, bytheby, is an atrocious institution, as anybody may learn

who will look at the advertisements called personal in some of the New York papers. Why should not young

ladies have their letters sent to their houses, instead of getting them at a private window? The postoffice

clerks can tell stories about those ladies' windows. But at every turn it is necessary to make separate provision

for ladies. From all this it comes to pass that the baker's daughter looks down from a great height on her papa,

and by no means thinks her brother good enough for her associate. Nature, the great restorer, comes in and

teaches her to fall in love with the butcher's son. Thus the evil is mitigated; but I cannot but wish that the

young woman should not see herself denominated a lady so often, and should receive fewer lessons as to the

extent of her privileges. I would save her, if I could, from working at the oven; I would give to her bread and

meat earned by her father's care and her brother's sweat; but when she has received these good things, I would

Let women say what they will of their rights, or men who think themselves generous say what they will for

them, the question has all been settled both for them and for us men by a higher power. They are the nursing

mothers of mankind, and in that law their fate is written with all its joys and all its privileges. It is for men to

make those joys as lasting and those privileges as perfect as may be. That women should have their rights no

man will deny. To my thinking, neither increase of work nor increase of political influence are among them.

The best right a woman has is the right to a husband, and that is the right to which I would recommend every

young woman here and in the States to turn her best attention. On the whole, I think that my doctrine will be

The one matter in which, as far as my judgment goes, the people of the United States have excelled us

Englishmen, so as to justify them in taking to themselves praise which we cannot take to ourselves or refuse

to them, is the matter of Education. In saying this, I do not think that I am proclaiming anything disgraceful

to England, though I am proclaiming much that is creditable to America. To the Americans of the States was

given the good fortune of beginning at the beginning. The French at the time of their revolution endeavored

to reorganize everything, and to begin the world again with new habits and grand theories; but the French as a

people were too old for such a change, and the theories fell to the ground. But in the States, after their

revolution, an AngloSaxon people had an opportunity of making a new State, with all the experience of the

world before them; and to this matter of education they were from the first aware that they must look for their

success. They did so; and unrivaled population, wealth, and intelligence has been the result; and with these,

looking at the whole masses of the peopleI think I am justified in saying unrivaled comfort and

happiness. It is not that you, my reader, to whom in this matter of education fortune and your parents have

probably been bountiful, would have been more happy in New York than in London. It is not that I, who, at

any rate, can read and write, have cause to wish that I had been an American. But it is this: if you and I can

count up in a day all those on whom our eyes may rest and learn the circumstances of their lives, we shall be

driven to conclude that ninetenths of that number would have had a better life as Americans than they can

have in their spheres as Englishmen. The States are at a discount with us now, in the beginning of this year of

grace 1862; and Englishmen were not very willing to admit the above statement, even when the States were

not at a discount. But I do not think that a man can travel through the States with his eyes open and not admit

the fact. Many things will conspire to induce him to shut his eyes and admit no conclusion favorable to the

Americans. Men and women will sometimes be impudent to him; the better his coat, the greater the

impudence. He will be pelted with the braggadocio of equality. The corns of his Old World conservatism will

be trampled on hourly by the purposely vicious herd of uncouth democracy. The fact that he is paymaster will

go for nothing, and will fail to insure civility. I shall never forget my agony as I saw and heard my desk fall

from a porter's hand on a railway station, as he tossed it from him seven yards off on to the hard pavement. I

heard its poor, weak intestines rattle in their death struggle, and knowing that it was smashed, I forgot my

position on American soil and remonstrated. "It's my desk, and you have utterly destroyed it," I said. "Ha! ha!

ha!" laughed the porter. "You've destroyed my property," I rejoined, "and it's no laughing matter." And then

all the crowd laughed. "Guess you'd better get it glued," said one. So I gathered up the broken article and

retired mournfully and crestfallen into a coach. This was very sad, and for the moment I deplored the ill luck

which had brought me to so savage a country. Such and such like are the incidents which make an

Englishman in the States unhappy, and rouse his gall against the institutions of the country; these things and

the continued appliance of the irritating ointment of American braggadocio with which his sores are kept

open. But though I was badly off on that railway platform, worse off than I should have been in England, all

that crowd of porters round me were better off than our English porters. They had a "good time" of it. And

this, O my English brother who has traveled through the States and returned disgusted, is the fact throughout.

Those men whose familiarity was so disgusting to you are having a good time of it. "They might be a little

more civil," you say, "and yet read and write just as well." True; but they are arguing in their minds that

civility to you will be taken by you for subservience, or for an acknowledgment of superiority; and looking at

your habits of lifeyours and mine togetherI am not quite sure that they are altogether wrong. Have you

ever realized to yourself as a fact that the porter who carries your box has not made himself inferior to you by

the very act of carrying that box? If not, that is the very lesson which the man wishes to teach you.

If a man can forget his own miseries in his journeyings, and think of the people he comes to see rather than of

himself, I think he will find himself driven to admit that education has made life for the million in the

Northern States better than life for the million is with us. They have begun at the beginning, and have so

managed that every one may learn to read and writehave so managed that almost every one does learn to

read and write. With us this cannot now be done. Population had come upon us in masses too thick for

management, before we had as yet acknowledged that it would be a good thing that these masses should be

educated. Prejudices, too, had sprung up, and habits, and strong sectional feelings, all antagonistic to a great

national system of education. We are, I suppose, now doing all that we can do; but comparatively it is little. I

think I saw some time since that the cost for gratuitous education, or education in part gratuitous, which had

fallen upon the nation had already amounted to the sum of 800,000l.; and I think also that I read in the

document which revealed to me this fact a very strong opinion that government could not at present go much

further. But if this matter were regarded in England as it is regarded in Massachusetts, or rather, had it from

some prosperous beginning been put upon a similar footing, 800,000l. would not have been esteemed a great

expenditure for free education simply in the City of London. In 1857 the public schools of Boston cost

70,000l., and these schools were devoted to a population of about 180,000 souls. Taking the population of

London at two and a half millions, the whole sum now devoted to England would, if expended in the

metropolis, make education there even cheaper than it is in Boston. In Boston, during 1857, there were above

24,000 pupils at these public schools, giving more than oneeighth of the whole population. But I fear it

would not be practicable for us to spend 800,000l. on the gratuitous education of London. Rich as we are, we

should not know where to raise the money. In Boston it is raised by a separate tax. It is a thing understood,

acknowledged, and made easy by being habitualas is our national debt. I do not know that Boston is

peculiarly blessed, but I quote the instance, as I have a record of its schools before me. At the three high

schools in Boston, at which the average of pupils is 526, about 13l. per head is paid for free education. The

average price per annum of a child's schooling throughout these schools in Boston is about 3l. for each. To

the higher schools any boy or girl may attain without any expense, and the education is probably as good as

can be given, and as far advanced. The only question is, whether it is not advanced further than may be

necessary. Here, as at New York, I was almost startled by the amount of knowledge around me, and listened,

as I might have done to an examination in theology among young Brahmins. When a young lad explained in

my hearing all the properties of the different levers as exemplified by the bones of the human body, I bowed

my head before him in unaffected humility. We, at our English schools, never got beyond the use of those

bones which he described with such accurate scientific knowledge. In one of the girls' schools they were

reading Milton, and when we entered were discussing the nature of the pool in which the devil is described as

wallowing. The question had been raised by one of the girls. A pool, so called, was supposed to contain but a

small amount of water, and how could the devil, being so large, get into it? Then came the origin of the word

poolfrom "palus," a marsh, as we were told, some dictionary attesting to the fact, and such a marsh might

cover a large expanse. The "Palus Maeotis" was then quoted. And so we went on till Satan's theory of

was thoroughly discussed and understood. These girls of sixteen and seventeen got up one after another and

gave their opinions on the subjecthow far the devil was right, and how far he was manifestly wrong. I was

attended by one of the directors or guardians of the schools; and the teacher, I thought, was a little

embarrassed by her position. But the girls themselves were as easy in their demeanor as though they were

It is impossible to refrain from telling all this, and from making a little innocent fun out of the

superexcellencies of these schools; but the total result on my mind was very greatly in their favor. And indeed

the testimony came in both ways. Not only was I called on to form an opinion of what the men and women

would become from the education which was given to the boys and girls, but also to say what must have been

the education of the boys and girls from what I saw of the men and women. Of course it will be understood

that I am not here speaking of those I met in society or of their children, but of the working peopleof that

class who find that a gratuitous education for their children is needful, if any considerable amount of

education is to be given. The result is to be seen daily in the whole intercourse of life. The coachman who

drives you, the man who mends your window, the boy who brings home your purchases, the girl who stitches

your wife's dress,they all carry with them sure signs of education, and show it in every word they utter.

It will of course be understood that this is, in the separate States, a matter of State law; indeed, I may go

further, and say that it is, in most of the States, a matter of State constitution. It is by no means a matter of

Federal constitution. The United States as a nation takes no heed of the education of its people. All that is left

to the judgment of the separate States. In most of the thirteen original States provision is made in the written

constitution for the general education of the people; but this is not done in all. I find that it was more

frequently done in the Northern or freesoil States than in those which admitted slavery, as might have been

expected. In the constitutions of South Carolina and Virginia I find no allusion to the public provision for

education; but in those of North Carolina and Georgia it is enjoined. The fortyfirst section of the

constitution for North Carolina enjoins that "schools shall be established by the legislature for the convenient

instruction of youth, with such salaries to the masters, paid by the public, as may enable them to instruct at

LOW PRICES"showing that the intention here was to assist education, and not provide it altogether

gratuitously. I think that provision for public education is enjoined in the constitutions of all the States

admitted into the Union since the first Federal knot was tied except in that of Illinois. Vermont was the first

so admitted, in 1791; and Vermont declares that "a competent number of schools ought to be maintained in

each town for the convenient instruction of youth." Ohio was the second, in 1802; and Ohio enjoins that "the

General Assembly shall make such provisions by taxation or otherwise as, with the income arising from the

school trust fund, will secure a thorough and efficient system of common schools throughout the State; but no

religions or other sect or sects shall ever have any exclusive right or control of any part of the school funds of

this State." In Indiana, admitted in 1816, it is required that "the General Assembly shall provide by law for a

general and uniform system of common schools." Illinois was admitted next, in 1818; but the constitution of

Illinois is silent on the subject of education. It enjoins, however, in lieu of this, that no person shall fight a

duel or send a challenge! If he do, he is not only to be punished, but to be deprived forever of the power of

holding any office of honor or profit in the State. I have no reason, however, for supposing that education is

neglected in Illinois, or that dueling has been abolished. In Maine it is demanded that the townsthe whole

country is divided into what are called townsshall make suitable provision at their own expense for the

Some of these constitutional enactments are most magniloquently worded, but not always with precise

grammatical correctness. That for the famous Bay State of Massachusetts runs as follows: "Wisdom and

knowledge, as well as virtue, diffused generally among the body of the people, being necessary for the

preservation of their rights and liberties, and as these depend on spreading the opportunities and advantages

of education in the various parts of the country and among the different orders of the people, it shall be the

duty of the legislatures and magistrates, in all future periods of this commonwealth, to cherish the interest of

literature and the sciences, and of all seminaries of them, especially the University at Cambridge, public

schools and grammar schools, in the towns; to encourage private societies and public institutions by rewards

and immunities for the promotion of agriculture, arts, sciences, commerce, trades, manufactures, and a

natural history of the country; to countenance and inculcate the principles of humanity and general

benevolence, public and private charity, industry and frugality, honesty and punctuality in all their dealings;

sincerity, good humor, and all social affections and generous sentiments among the people." I must confess

that, had the words of that little constitutional enactment been made known to me before I had seen its

practical results, I should not have put much faith in it. Of all the public schools I have ever seenby public

schools I mean schools for the people at large maintained at public costthose of Massachusetts are, I think,

the best. But of all the educational enactments which I ever read, that of the same State is, I should say, the

worst. In Texas now, of which as a State the people of Massachusetts do not think much, they have done it

better: "A general diffusion of knowledge being essential to the preservation of the rights and liberties of the

people, it shall be the duty of the legislature of this State to make suitable provision for the support and

maintenance of public schools." So say the Texans; but then the Texans had the advantage of a later

experience than any which fell in the way of the constitution makers of Massachusetts.

There is something of the magniloquence of the French styleof the liberty, equality, and fraternity mode of

eloquencein the preambles of most of these constitutions, which, but for their success, would have seemed

to have prophesied loudly of failure. Those of New York and Pennsylvania are the least so, and that of

Massachusetts by far the most violently magniloquent. They generally commence by thanking God for the

present civil and religious liberty of the people, and by declaring that all men are born free and equal. New

I am well aware that all these constitutional enactments are not likely to obtain much credit in England. It is

not only that grand phrases fail to convince us, but that they carry to our senses almost an assurance of their

own inefficiency. When we hear that a people have declared their intention of being henceforward better than

their neighbors, and going upon a new theory that shall lead them direct to a terrestrial paradise, we button up

our pockets and lock up our spoons. And that is what we have done very much as regards the Americans. We

have walked with them and talked with them, and bought with them and sold with them; but we have

mistrusted them as to their internal habits and modes of life, thinking that their philanthropy was pretentious

and that their theories were vague. Many cities in the States are but skeletons of towns, the streets being

there, and the houses numberedbut not one house built out of ten that have been so counted up. We have

regarded their institutions as we regard those cities, and have been specially willing so to consider them

because of the fine language in which they have been paraded before us. They have been regarded as the

skeletons of philanthropical systems, to which blood and flesh and muscle, and even skin, are wanting. But it

is at least but fair to inquire how far the promise made has been carried out. The elaborate wordings of the

constitutions made by the French politicians in the days of their great revolution have always been to us no

more than so many written grimaces; but we should not have continued so to regard them had the political

liberty which they promised followed upon the promises so magniloquently made. As regards education in

the Statesat any rate in the Northern and Western StatesI think that the assurances put forth in the

various written constitutions have been kept. If this be so, an American citizen, let him be ever so arrogant,

ever so impudent if you will, is at any rate a civilized being, and on the road to that cultivation which will

sooner or later divest him of his arrogance. Emollit mores. We quote here our old friend the colonel again. If

a gentleman be compelled to confine his classical allusions to one quotation, he cannot do better than hang by

But has education been so general, and has it had the desired result? In the City of Boston, as I have said, I

found that in 1857 about oneeighth of the whole population were then on the books of the free public

schools as pupils, and that about one ninth of the population formed the average daily attendance. To these

numbers of course must be added all pupils of the richer classesthose for whose education their parents

chose to pay. As nearly as I can learn, the average duration of each pupil's schooling is six years, and if this

be figured out statistically, I think it will show that education in Boston reaches a very large majorityI

might almost say the wholeof the population. That the education given in other towns of Massachusetts is

not so good as that given in Boston I do not doubt, but I have reason to believe that it is quite as general.

I have spoken of one of the schools of New York. In that city the public schools are apportioned to the wards,

and are so arranged that in each ward of the city there are public schools of different standing for the

gratuitous use of the children. The population of the City of New York in 1857 was about 650,000, and in

that year it is stated that there were 135,000 pupils in the schools. By this it would appear that one person in

five throughout the city was then under process of educationwhich statement, however, I cannot receive

with implicit credence. It is, however, also stated that the daily attendances averaged something less than

50,000 a day, and this latter statement probably implies some mistake in the former one. Taking the two

together for what they are worth, they show, I think, that school teaching is not only brought within the reach

of the population generally, but is used by almost all classes. At New York there are separate free schools for

colored children. At Philadelphia I did not see the schools, but I was assured that the arrangements there were

equal to those at New York and Boston. Indeed I was told that they were infinitely better; but then I was so

told by a Philadelphian. In the State of Connecticut the public schools are certainly equal to those in any part

of the union. As far as I could learn educationwhat we should call advanced educationis brought within

the reach of all classes in the Northern and Western States of Americaand, I would wish to add here, to

So much for the schools, and now for the results. I do not know that anything impresses a visitor more

strongly with the amount of books sold in the States, than the practice of selling them as it has been adopted

in the railway cars. Personally the traveler will find the system very disagreeableas is everything connected

with these cars. A young man enters during the journeyfor the trade is carried out while the cars are

traveling, as is also a very brisk trade in lollipops, sugarcandy, apples, and ham sandwiches the young

tradesman enters the car firstly with a pile of magazines, or of novels bound like magazines. These are chiefly

the "Atlantic," published at Boston, "Harper's Magazine," published at New York, and a cheap series of

novels published at Philadelphia. As he walks along he flings one at every passenger. An Englishman, when

he is first introduced to this manner of trade, becomes much astonished. He is probably reading, and on a

sudden he finds a fat, fluffy magazine, very unattractive in its exterior, dropped on to the page he is perusing.

I thought at first that it was a present from some crazed philanthropist, who was thus endeavoring to

disseminate literature. But I was soon undeceived. The bookseller, having gone down the whole car and the

next, returned, and beginning again where he had begun before, picked up either his magazine or else the

price of it. Then, in some half hour, he came again, with an armful or basket of books, and distributed them in

the same way. They were generally novels, but not always. I do not think that any endeavor is made to

assimilate the book to the expected customer. The object is to bring the book and the man together, and in

this way a very large sale is effected. The same thing is done with illustrated newspapers. The sale of political

newspapers goes on so quickly in these cars that no such enforced distribution is necessary. I should say that

the average consumption of newspapers by an American must amount to about three a day. At Washington I

begged the keeper of my lodgings to let me have a paper regularlyone American newspaper being much

But the numbers of the popular books of the day, printed and sold, afford the most conclusive proof of the

extent to which education is carried in the States. The readers of Tennyson, Mackay, Dickens, Bulwer,

Collins, Hughes, and Martin Tupper are to be counted by tens of thousands in the States, to the thousands by

which they may be counted in our own islands. I do not doubt that I had fully fifteen copies of the "Silver

Cord" thrown at my head in different railway cars on the continent of America. Nor is the taste by any means

confined to the literature of England. Longfellow, Curtis, Holmes, Hawthorne, Lowell, Emerson, and Mrs.

Stowe are almost as popular as their English rivals. I do not say whether or no the literature is well chosen,

but there it is. It is printed, sold, and read. The disposal of ten thousand copies of a work is no large sale in

America of a book published at a dollar; but in England it is a very large sale of a book brought out at five

I do not remember that I ever examined the rooms of an American without finding books or magazines in

them. I do not speak here of the houses of my friends, as of course the same remark would apply as strongly

in England; but of the houses of persons presumed to earn their bread by the labor of their hands. The

opportunity for such examination does not come daily; but when it has been in my power I have made it, and

have always found signs of education. Men and women of the classes to which I allude talk of reading and

writing as of arts belonging to them as a matter of course, quite as much as are the arts of eating and drinking.

A porter or a farmer's servant in the States is not proud of reading and writing. It is to him quite a matter of

course. The coachmen on their boxes and the boots as they set in the halls of the hotels have newspapers

constantly in their hands. The young women have them also, and the children. The fact comes home to one at

every turn, and at every hour, that the people are an educated people. The whole of this question between

North and South is as well understood by the servants as by their masters, is discussed as vehemently by the

private soldiers as by the officers. The politics of the country and the nature of its Constitution are familiar to

every laborer. The very wording of the Declaration of Independence is in the memory of every lad of sixteen.

Boys and girls of a younger age than that know why Slidell and Mason were arrested, and will tell you why

they should have been given up, or why they should have been held in durance. The question of the war with

I know what Englishmen will say in answer to this. They will declare that they do not want their paviors and

hodmen to talk politics; that they are as well pleased that their coachmen and cooks should not always have a

newspaper in their hands; that private soldiers will fight as well, and obey better, if they are not trained to

discuss the causes which have brought them into the field. An English gentleman will think that his gardener

will be a better gardener without than with any excessive political ardor, and the English lady will prefer that

her housemaid shall not have a very pronounced opinion of her own as to the capabilities of the cabinet

ministers. But I would submit to all Englishmen and English women who may look at these pages whether

such an opinion or feeling on their part bears much, or even at all, upon the subject. I am not saying that the

man who is driven in the coach is better off because his coachman reads the paper, but that the coachman

himself who reads the paper is better off than the coachman who does not and cannot. I think that we are too

apt, in considering the ways and habits of any people, to judge of them by the effect of those ways and habits

on us, rather than by their effects on the owners of them. When we go among garlic eaters, we condemn them

because they are offensive to us; but to judge of them properly we should ascertain whether or no the garlic

be offensive to them. If we could imagine a nation of vegetarians hearing for the first time of our habits as

flesh eaters, we should feel sure that they would be struck with horror at our bloodstained banquets; but

when they came to argue with us, we should bid them inquire whether we flesh eaters did not live longer and

do more than the vegetarians. When we express a dislike to the shoeboy reading his newspaper, I apprehend

we do so because we fear that the shoeboy is coming near our own heels. I know there is among us a strong

feeling that the lower classes are better without politics, as there is also that they are better without crinoline

and artificial flowers; but if politics, and crinoline, and artificial flowers are good at all, they are good for all

who can honestly come by them and honestly use them. The political coachman is perhaps less valuable to

his master as a coachman than he would be without his politics, but he with his politics is more valuable to

himself. For myself, I do not like the Americans of the lower orders. I am not comfortable among them. They

tread on my corns and offend me. They make my daily life unpleasant. But I do respect them. I acknowledge

their intelligence and personal dignity. I know that they are men and women worthy to be so called; I see that

they are living as human beings in possession of reasoning faculties; and I perceive that they owe this to the

After all, what is wanted in this world? Is it not that men should eat and drink, and read and write, and say

their prayers? Does not that include everything, providing that they eat and drink enough, read and write

without restraint, and say their prayers without hypocrisy? When we talk of the advances of civilization, do

we mean anything but this, that men who now eat and drink badly shall eat and drink well, and that those

who cannot read and write now shall learn to do sothe prayers following, as prayers will follow upon such

learning? Civilization does not consist in the eschewing of garlic or the keeping clean of a man's fingernails.

It may lead to such delicacies, and probably will do so. But the man who thinks that civilization cannot exist

without them imagines that the church cannot stand without the spire. In the States of America men do eat

But as to saying their prayers? That, as far as I can see, has come also, though perhaps not in a manner

altogether satisfactory, or to a degree which should be held to be sufficient. Englishmen of strong religious

feeling will often be startled in America by the freedom with which religious subjects are discussed, and the

ease with which the matter is treated; but he will very rarely be shocked by that utter absence of all

knowledge on the subjectthat total darkness which is still so common among the lower orders in our own

country. It is not a common thing to meet an American who belongs to no denomination of Christian

"But," it will be said, "all the intelligence and education of this people have not saved them from falling out

among themselves and their friends, and running into troubles by which they will be ruined. Their political

arrangements have been so bad that, in spite of all their reading and writing, they must go to the wall." I

venture to express an opinion that they will by no means go to the wall, and that they will be saved from such

a destiny, if in no other way, then by their education. Of their political arrangements, as I mean before long to

rush into that perilous subject, I will say nothing here. But no political convulsions, should such ariseno

revolution in the Constitution, should such be necessarywill have any wide effect on the social position of

the people to their serious detriment. They have the great qualities of the AngloSaxon raceindustry,

intelligence, and selfconfidence; and if these qualities will no longer suffice to keep such a people on their

I have said that it is not a common thing to meet an American who belongs to no denomination of Christian

worship. This I think is so but I would not wish to be taken as saying that religion, on that account, stands on

a satisfactory footing in the States. Of all subjects of discussion, this is the most difficult. It is one as to which

most of us feel that to some extent we must trust to our prejudices rather than our judgments. It is a matter on

which we do not dare to rely implicitly on our own reasoning faculties, and therefore throw ourselves on the

opinions of those whom we believe to have been better men and deeper thinkers than ourselves. For myself, I

love the name of State and Church, and believe that much of our English wellbeing has depended on it. I

have made up my mind to think that union good, and am not to be turned away from that conviction.

Nevertheless I am not prepared to argue the matter. One does not always carry one's proof at one's finger

But I feel very strongly that much of that which is evil in the structure of American politics is owing to the

absence of any national religion, and that something also of social evil has sprung from the same cause. It is

not that men do not say their prayers. For aught I know, they may do so as frequently and as fervently, or

more frequently and more fervently, than we do; but there is a rowdiness, if I may be allowed to use such a

word, in their manner of doing so which robs religion of that reverence which is, if not its essence, at any rate

its chief protection. It is a part of their system that religion shall be perfectly free, and that no man shall be in

any way constrained in that matter. Consequently, the question of a man's religion is regarded in a

freeandeasy way. It is well, for instance, that a young lad should go somewhere on a Sunday; but a sermon

is a sermon, and it does not much concern the lad's father whether his son hear the discourse of a freethinker

in the musichall, or the eloquent but lengthy outpouring of a preacher in a Methodist chapel. Everybody is

The difficulty in which the first fathers of the Revolution found themselves on this question is shown by the

constitutions of the different States. There can be no doubt that the inhabitants of the New England States

were, as things went, a strictly religious community. They had no idea of throwing over the worship of God,

as the French had attempted to do at their revolution. They intended that the new nation should be

preeminently composed of a Godfearing people; but they intended also that they should be a people free in

everythingfree to choose their own forms of worship. They intended that the nation should be a Protestant

people; but they intended also that no man's conscience should be coerced in the matter of his own religion. It

was hard to reconcile these two things, and to explain to the citizens that it behooved them to worship

Godeven under penalties for omission; but that it was at the same time open to them to select any form of

worship that they pleased, however that form might differ from the practices of the majority. In Connecticut it

is declared that it is the duty of all men to worship the Supreme Being, the Creator and Preserver of the

universe, but that it is their right to render that worship in the mode most consistent with the dictates of their

consciences. And then, a few lines further down, the article skips the great difficulty in a manner somewhat

disingenuous, and declares that each and every society of Christians in the State shall have and enjoy the

same and equal privileges. But it does not say whether a Jew shall be divested of those privileges, or, if he be

divested, how that treatment of him is to be reconciled with the assurance that it is every man's right to

worship the Supreme Being in the mode most consistent with the dictates of his own conscience.

In Rhode Island they were more honest. It is there declared that every man shall be free to worship God

according to the dictates of his own conscience, and to profess and by argument to maintain his opinion in

matters of religion; and that the same shall in no wise diminish, enlarge, or affect his civil capacity. Here it is

simply presumed that every man will worship a God, and no allusion is made even to Christianity.

In Massachusetts they are again hardly honest. "It is the right," says the constitution, "as well as the duty of

all men in society publicly and at stated seasons to worship the supreme Being, the Great Creator and

Preserver of the universe." And then it goes on to say that every man may do so in what form he pleases; but

further down it declares that "every denomination of Christians, demeaning themselves peaceably and as

good subjects of the commonwealth, shall be equally under the protection of the law." But what about those

who are not Christians? In New Hampshire it is exactly the same. It is enacted that "every individual has a

natural and unalienable right to worship God according to the dictates of his own conscience and reason."

And that "every denomination of Christians, demeaning themselves quietly and as good citizens of the State,

shall be equally under the protection of the law." From all which it is, I think, manifest that the men who

framed these documents, desirous above all things of cutting themselves and their people loose from every

kind of trammel, still felt the necessity of enforcing religionof making it, to a certain extent, a matter of

State duty. In the first constitution of North Carolina it is enjoined "that no person who shall deny the being

of God, or the truth of the Protestant religion, shall be capable of holding any office or place of trust or

profit." But this was altered in the year 1836, and the words "Christian religion" were substituted for

In New England the Congregationalists are, I think, the dominant sect. In Massachusetts, and I believe in the

other New England States, a man is presumed to be a Congregationalist if he do not declare himself to be

anything else; as with us the Church of England counts all who do not specially have themselves counted

elsewhere. The Congregationalist, as far as I can learn, is very near to a Presbyterian. In New England I think

the Unitarians would rank next in number; but a Unitarian in America is not the same as a Unitarian with us.

Here, if I understand the nature of his creed, a Unitarian does not recognize the divinity of our Saviour. In

America he does do so, but throws over the doctrine of the Trinity. The Protestant Episcopalians muster

strong in all the great cities, and I fancy that they would be regarded as taking the lead of the other religious

denominations in New York. Their tendency is to highchurch doctrines. I wish they had not found it

necessary to alter the forms of our prayerbook in so many little matters, as to which there was no national

expediency for such changes. But it was probably thought necessary that a new people should show their

independence in all things. The Roman Catholics have a very strong partyas a matter of courseseeing

how great has been the emigration from Ireland; but here, as in Irelandand as indeed is the case all the

world overthe Roman Catholics are the hewers of wood and drawers of water. The Germans, who have

latterly flocked into the States in such swarms that they have almost Germanized certain States, have, of

course, their own churches. In every town there are places of worship for Baptists, Presbyterians, Methodists,

Anabaptists, and every denomination of Christianity; and the meetinghouses prepared for these sects are

not, as with us, hideous buildings, contrived to inspire disgust by the enormity of their ugliness, nor are they

called Salem, Ebenezer, and Sion, nor do the ministers within them look in any way like the

DeputyShepherd. The churches belonging to those sects are often handsome. This is especially the case in

New York, and the pastors are not unfrequently among the best educated and most agreeable men whom the

traveler will meet. They are for the most part well paid, and are enabled by their outward position to hold that

place in the world's ranks which should always belong to a clergyman. I have not been able to obtain

information from which I can state with anything like correctness what may be the average income of

ministers of the Gospel in the Northern States; but that it is much higher than the average income of our

parish clergymen, admits, I think, of no doubt. The stipends of clergymen in the American towns are higher

than those paid in the country. The opposite to this, I think, as a rule, is the case with us.

I have said that religion in the States is rowdy. By that I mean to imply that it seems to me to be divested of

that reverential order and strictness of rule which, according to our ideas, should be attached to matters of

religion. One hardly knows where the affairs of this world end, or where those of the next begin. When the

holy men were had in at the lecture, were they doing stagework or churchwork? On hearing sermons, one

is often driven to ask one's self whether the discourse from the pulpit be in its nature political or religious. I

heard an Episcopalian Protestant clergyman talk of the scoffing nations of Europe, because at that moment he

was angry with England and France about Slidell and Mason. I have heard a chapter of the Bible read in

Congress at the desire of a member, and very badly read. After which the chapter itself and the reading of it

became a subject of debate, partly jocose and partly acrimonious. It is a common thing for a clergyman to

change his profession and follow any other pursuit. I know two or three gentlemen who were once in that line

of life, but have since gone into other trades. There is, I think, an unexpressed determination on the part of the

people to abandon all reverence, and to regard religion from an altogether worldly point of view. They are

willing to have religion, as they are willing to have laws; but they choose to make it for themselves. They do

not object to pay for it, but they like to have the handling of the article for which they pay. As the

descendants of Puritans and other godly Protestants, they will submit to religious teaching, but as republicans

they will have no priestcraft. The French at their revolution had the latter feeling without the former, and

were therefore consistent with themselves in abolishing all worship. The Americans desire to do the same

thing politically, but infidelity has had no charms for them. They say their prayers, and then seem to

apologize for doing so, as though it were hardly the act of a free and enlightened citizen, justified in ruling

himself as he pleases. All this to me is rowdy. I know no other word by which I can so well describe it.

Nevertheless the nation is religious in its tendencies, and prone to acknowledge the goodness of God in all

things. A man there is expected to belong to some church, and is not, I think, well looked on if he profess that

he belongs to none. He may be a Swedenborgian, a Quaker, a Muggletonian,anything will do, But it is

expected of him that he shall place himself under some flag, and do his share in supporting the flag to which

From Boston, on the 27th of November, my wife returned to England, leaving me to prosecute my journey

southward to Washington by myself. I shall never forget the political feeling which prevailed in Boston at

that time, or the discussions on the subject of Slidell and Mason, in which I felt myself bound to take a part.

Up to that period I confess that my sympathies had been strongly with the Northern side in the general

question; and so they were still, as far as I could divest the matter of its English bearings. I have always

thought, and do think, that a war for the suppression of the Southern rebellion could not have been avoided by

the North without an absolute loss of its political prestige. Mr. Lincoln was elected President of the United

States in the autumn of 1860, and any steps taken by him or his party toward a peaceable solution of the

difficulties which broke out immediately on his election must have been taken before he entered upon his

office. South Carolina threatened secession as soon as Mr. Lincoln's election was known, while yet there

were four months left of Mr. Buchanan's government. That Mr. Buchanan might, during those four months,

have prevented secession, few men, I think, will doubt when the history of the time shall be written. But

instead of doing so he consummated secession. Mr. Buchanan is a Northern man, a Pennsylvanian; but he

was opposed to the party which had brought in Mr. Lincoln, having thriven as a politician by his adherence to

Southern principles. Now, when the struggle came, he could not forget his party in his duty as President.

General Jackson's position was much the same when Mr. Calhoun, on the question of the tariff, endeavored to

produce secession in South Carolina thirty years ago, in 1832excepting in this, that Jackson was himself a

Southern man. But Jackson had a strong conception of the position which he held as President of the United

States. He put his foot on secession and crushed it, forcing Mr. Calhoun, as Senator from South Carolina, to

vote for that compromise as to the tariff which the government of the day proposed. South Carolina was as

eager in 1832 for secession as she was in 185960; but the government was in the hands of a strong man and

an honest one. Mr. Calhoun would have been hung had he carried out his threats. But Mr. Buchanan had

neither the power nor the honesty of General Jackson, and thus secession was in fact consummated during his

But Mr. Lincoln's party, it is saidand I believe truly said might have prevented secession by making

overtures to the South, or accepting overtures from the South, before Mr. Lincoln himself had been

inaugurated. That is to say, if Mr. Lincoln and the band of politicians who with him had pushed their way to

the top of their party, and were about to fill the offices of State, chose to throw overboard the political

convictions which had bound them together and insured their successif they could bring themselves to

adopt on the subject of slavery the ideas of their opponentsthen the war might have been avoided, and

secession also avoided. I do believe that had Mr. Lincoln at that time submitted himself to a compromise in

favor of the Democrats, promising the support of the government to certain acts which would in fact have

been in favor of slavery, South Carolina would again have been foiled for the time. For it must be understood,

that though South Carolina and the Gulf States might have accepted certain compromises, they would not

have been satisfied in so accepting them. The desired secession, and nothing short of secession, would in

truth have been acceptable to them. But in doing so Mr. Lincoln would have been the most dishonest

politician even in America. The North would have been in arms against him; and any true spirit of agreement

between the cottongrowing slave States and the manufacturing States of the North, or the agricultural States

of the West, would have been as far off and as improbable as it is now. Mr. Crittenden, who proffered his

compromise to the Senate in December, 1860, was at that time one of the two Senators from Kentucky, a

slave State. He now sits in the Lower House of Congress as a member from the same State. Kentucky is one

of those border States which has found it impossible to secede, and almost equally impossible to remain in

the Union. It is one of the States into which it was most probable that the war would be carriedVirginia,

Kentucky, and Missouri being the three States which have suffered the most in this way. Of Mr. Crittenden's

own family, some have gone with secession and some with the Union. His name had been honorably

connected with American politics for nearly forty years, and it is not surprising that he should have desired a

compromise. His terms were in fact thesea return to the Missouri compromise, under which the Union

pledged itself that no slavery should exist north of 36.30 degrees N. lat., unless where it had so existed prior

to the date of that compromise; a pledge that Congress would not interfere with slavery in the individual

Stateswhich under the Constitution it cannot do; and a pledge that the Fugitive Slave Law should be

carried out by the Northern States. Such a compromise might seem to make very small demand on the

forbearance of the Republican party, which was now dominant. The repeal of the Missouri compromise had

been to them a loss, and it might be said that its reenactment would be a gain. But since that compromise

had been repealed, vast territories south of the line in question had been added to the union, and the

reenactment of that compromise would hand those vast regions over to absolute slavery, as had been done

with Texas. This might be all very well for Mr. Crittenden in the slave State of Kentuckyfor Mr.

Crittenden, although a slave owner, desired to perpetuate the Union; but it would not have been well for New

England or for the West. As for the second proposition, it is well understood that under the Constitution

Congress cannot interfere in any way in the question of slavery in the individual States. Congress has no

more constitutional power to abolish slavery in Maryland than she has to introduce it into Massachusetts. No

such pledge, therefore, was necessary on either side. But such a pledge given by the North and West would

have acted as an additional tie upon them, binding them to the finality of a constitutional enactment to which,

as was of course well known, they strongly object. There was no question of Congress interfering with

slavery, with the purport of extending its area by special enactment, and therefore by such a pledge the North

But that third proposition as to the Fugitive Slave Law and the faithful execution of that law by the Northern

and Western States would, if acceded to by Mr. Lincoln's party, have amounted to an unconditional surrender

of everything. What! Massachusetts and Connecticut carry out the Fugitive Slave Law? Ohio carry out the

Fugitive Slave Law after the "Dred Scott" decision and all its consequences? Mr. Crittenden might as well

have asked Connecticut, Massachusetts, and Ohio to introduce slavery within their own lands. The Fugitive

Slave Law was then, as it is now, the law of the land; it was the law of the United States as voted by

Congress, and passed by the President, and acted on by the supreme judge of the United States Court. But it

was a law to which no free State had submitted itself, or would submit itself. "What!" the English reader will

say, "sundry States in the Union refuse to obey the laws of the Unionrefuse to submit to the constitutional

action of their own Congress?" Yes. Such has been the position of this country! To such a dead lock has it

been brought by the attempted but impossible amalgamation of North and South. Mr. Crittenden's

compromise was moonshine. It was utterly out of the question that the free States should bind themselves to

the rendition of escaped slaves, or that Mr. Lincoln, who had just been brought in by their voices, should

agree to any compromise which should attempt so to bind them. Lord Palmerston might as well attempt to

Then comes the question whether Mr. Lincoln or his government could have prevented the war after he had

entered upon his office in March, 1861? I do not suppose that any one thinks that he could have avoided

secession and avoided the war also; that by any ordinary effort of government he could have secured the

adhesion of the Gulf States to the Union after the first shot had been fired at Fort Sumter. The general opinion

in England is, I take it, this that secession then was manifestly necessary, and that all the bloodshed and

moneyshed, and all this destruction of commerce and of agriculture might have been prevented by a

graceful adhesion to an indisputable fact. But there are some facts, even some indisputable facts, to which a

graceful adherence is not possible. Could King Bomba have welcomed Garibaldi to Naples? Can the Pope

shake hands with Victor Emmanuel? Could the English have surrendered to their rebel colonists peaceable

possession of the colonies? The indisputability of a fact is not very easily settled while the circumstances are

in course of action by which the fact is to be decided. The men of the Northern States have not believed in the

necessity of secession, but have believed it to be their duty to enforce the adherence of these States to the

Union. The American governments have been much given to compromises, but had Mr. Lincoln attempted

any compromise by which any one Southern State could have been let out of the Union, he would have been

impeached. In all probability the whole Constitution would have gone to ruin, and the Presidency would have

been at an end. At any rate, his Presidency would have been at an end. When secession, or in other words

rebellion, was once commenced, he had no alternative but the use of coercive measures for putting it

downthat is, he had no alternative but war. It is not to be supposed that he or his ministry contemplated

such a war as has existedwith 600,000 men in arms on one side, each man with his whole belongings

maintained at a cost of 150l. per annum, or ninety millions sterling per annum for the army. Nor did we when

we resolved to put down the French revolution think of such a national debt as we now owe. These things

grow by degrees, and the mind also grows in becoming used to them; but I cannot see that there was any

moment at which Mr. Lincoln could have stayed his hand and cried peace. It is easy to say now that

acquiescence in secession would have been better than war, but there has been no moment when he could

have said so with any avail. It was incumbent on him to put down rebellion, or to be put down by it. So it was

I do not think that we in England have quite sufficiently taken all this into consideration. We have been in the

habit of exclaiming very loudly against the war, execrating its cruelty and anathematizing its results, as

though the cruelty were all superfluous and the results unnecessary. But I do not remember to have seen any

statement as to what the Northern States should have donewhat they should have done, that is, as regards

the South, or when they should have done it. It seems to me that we have decided as regards them that civil

war is a very bad thing, and that therefore civil war should be avoided. But bad things cannot always be

avoided. It is this feeling on our part that has produced so much irritation in them against usreproducing, of

course, irritation on our part against them. They cannot understand that we should not wish them to be

successful in putting down a rebellion; nor can we understand why they should be outrageous against us for

When Slidell and Mason were arrested, my opinions were not changed, but my feelings were altered. I

seemed to acknowledge to myself that the treatment to which England had been subjected, and the manner in

which that treatment was discussed, made it necessary that I should regard the question as it existed between

England and the States, rather than in its reference to the North and South. I had always felt that as regarded

the action of our government we had been sans reproche; that in arranging our conduct we had thought

neither of money nor political influence, but simply of the justice of the casepromising to abstain from all

interference and keeping that promise faithfully. It had been quite clear to me that the men of the North, and

the women also, had failed to appreciate this, looking, as men in a quarrel always do look, for special favor

on their side. Everything that England did was wrong. If a private merchant, at his own risk, took a cargo of

rifles to some Southern port, that act to Northern eyes was an act of English interferenceof favor shown to

the South by England as a nation; but twenty shiploads of rifles sent from England to the North merely

signified a brisk trade and a desire for profit. The "James Adger," a Northern manofwar, was refitted at

Southampton as a matter of course. There was no blame to England for that. But the Nashville, belonging to

the Confederates, should not have been allowed into English waters. It was useless to speak of neutrality. No

Northerner would understand that a rebel could have any mutual right. The South had no claim in his eyes as

a belligerent, though the North claimed all those rights which he could only enjoy by the fact of there being a

recognized war between him and his enemy the South. The North was learning to hate England, and day by

day the feeling grew upon me that, much as I wished to espouse the cause of the North, I should have to

espouse the cause of my own country. Then Slidell and Mason were arrested, and I began to calculate how

long I might remain in the country. "There is no danger. We are quite right," the lawyers said. "There are

Vattel, and Puffendorff, and Stowell, and Phillimore, and Wheaton," said the ladies. "Ambassadors are

contraband all the world overmore so than gunpowder; and if taken in a neutral bottom," etc. I wonder

why ships are always called bottoms when spoken of with legal technicality? But neither the lawyers nor the

ladies convinced me. I know that there are matters which will be read not in accordance with any written law,

but in accordance with the bias of the reader's mind. Such laws are made to be strained any way. I knew how

it would be. All the legal acumen of New England declared the seizure of Slidell and Mason to be right. The

legal acumen of Old England has declared it to be wrong; and I have no doubt that the ladies of Old England

can prove it to be wrong out of Yattel, Puffendorff, Stowell, Phillimore, and Wheaton.

"But there's Grotius," I said, to an elderly female at New York, who had quoted to me some half dozen

writers on international law, thinking thereby that I should trump her last card. "I've looked into Grotius too,"

said she, "and as far as I can see," etc. etc. etc. So I had to fall back again on the convictions to which instinct

and common sense had brought me. I never doubted for a moment that those convictions would be supported

I left Boston with a sad feeling at my heart that a quarrel was imminent between England and the States, and

that any such quarrel must be destructive to the cause of the North. I had never believed that the States of

New England and the Gulf States would again become parts of one nation, but I had thought that the terms of

separation would be dictated by the North, and not by the South. I had felt assured that South Carolina and

the Gulf States, across from the Atlantic to Texas, would succeed in forming themselves into a separate

confederation; but I had still hoped that Maryland, Virginia, Kentucky, and Missouri might be saved to the

grander empire of the North, and that thus a great blow to slavery might be the consequence of this civil war.

But such ascendency could only fall to the North by reason of their command of the sea. The Northern ports

were all open, and the Southern ports were all closed. But if this should be reversed. If by England's action

the Southern ports should be opened, and the Northern ports closed, the North could have no fair expectation

of success. The ascendency in that case would all be with the South. Up to that momentthe Christmas of

1861Maryland was kept in subjection by the guns which General Dix had planted over the City of

Baltimore. Twothirds of Virginia were in active rebellion, coerced originally into that position by her

dependence for the sale of her slaves on the cotton States. Kentucky was doubtful, and divided. When the

Federal troops prevailed, Kentucky was loyal; when the Confederate troops prevailed, Kentucky was

rebellious. The condition in Missouri was much the same. These four States, by two of which the capital,

with its District of Columbia, is surrounded, might be gained or might be lost. And these four States are

susceptible of white laboras much so as Ohio and Illinoisare rich in fertility, and rich also in all

associations which must be dear to Americans. Without Virginia, Maryland, and Kentucky, without the

Potomac, the Chesapeake, and Mount Vernon, the North would indeed be shorn of its glory! But it seemed to

be in the power of the North to say under what terms secession should take place, and where should be the

line. A Senator from South Carolina could never again sit in the same chamber with one from Massachusetts;

but there need be no such bar against the border States. So much might at any rate be gained, and might stand

hereafter as the product of all that money spent on 600,000 soldiers. But if the Northerners should now elect

to throw themselves into a quarrel with England, if in the gratification of a shameless braggadocio they

should insist on doing what they liked, not only with their own, but with the property of all others also, it

certainly did seem as though utter ruin must await their cause. With England, or one might say with Europe,

against them, secession must be accomplished, not on Northern terms, but on terms dictated by the South.

The choice was then for them to make; and just at that time it seemed as though they were resolved to throw

away every good card out of their hand. Such had been the ministerial wisdom of Mr. Seward. I remember

hearing the matter discussed in easy terms by one of the United States Senators. "Remember, Mr. Trollope,"

he said to me, "we don't want a war with England. If the choice is given to us, we had rather not fight

England. Fighting is a bad thing. But remember this also, Mr. Trollope, that if the matter is pressed on us, we

have no great objection. We had rather not, but we don't care much one way or the other." What one

individual may say to another is not of much moment, but this Senator was expressing the feelings of his

constituents, who were the legislature of the State from whence he came. He was expressing the general idea

on the subject of a large body of Americans. It was not that he and his State had really no objection to the

war. Such a war loomed terribly large before the minds of them all. They know it to be fraught with the

saddest consequences. It was so regarded in the mind of that Senator. But the braggadocio could not be

When I left Boston for Washington, nothing was as yet known of what the English government or the English

lawyers might say. This was in the first week in December, and the expected voice from England could not

be heard till the end of the second week. It was a period of great suspense, and of great sorrow also to the

more soberminded Americans. To me the idea of such a war was terrible. It seemed that in these days all the

hopes of our youth were being shattered. That poetic turning of the sword into a sickle, which gladdened our

hearts ten or twelve years since, had been clean banished from men's minds. To belong to a peace party was

to be either a fanatic, an idiot, or a driveler. The arts of war had become everything. Armstrong guns,

themselves indestructible but capable of destroying everything within sight, and most things out of sight,

were the only recognized results of man's inventive faculties. To build bigger, stronger, and more ships than

the French was England's glory. To hit a speck with a rifle bullet at 800 yards distance was an Englishman's

first duty. The proper use for a young man's leisure hours was the practice of drilling. All this had come upon

us with very quick steps since the beginning of the Russian war. But if fighting must needs be done, one did

not feel special grief at fighting a Russian. That the Indian mutiny should be put down was a matter of course.

That those Chinese rascals should be forced into the harness of civilization was a good thing. That England

should be as strong as Franceor, perhaps, if possible a little strongerrecommended itself to an

Englishman's mind as a State necessity. But a war with the States of America! In thinking of it I began to

believe that the world was going backward. Over sixty millions sterling of stockrailway stock and such

likeare held in America by Englishmen, and the chances would be that before such a war could be finished

the whole of that would be confiscated. Family connections between the States and the British isles are

almost as close as between one of those islands and another. The commercial intercourse between the two

countries has given bread to millions of Englishmen, and a break in it would rob millions of their bread.

These people speak our language, use our prayers, read our books, are ruled by our laws, dress themselves in

our image, are warm with our blood. They have all our virtues; and their vices are our own too, loudly as we

call out against them. They are our sons and our daughters, the source of our greatest pride, and as we grow

old they should be the staff of our age. Such a war as we should now wage with the States would be an

unloosing of hell upon all that is best upon the world's surface. If in such a war we beat the Americans, they

with their proud stomachs would never forgive us. If they should be victors, we should never forgive

ourselves. I certainly could not bring myself to speak of it with the equanimity of my friend the Senator.

I went through New York to Philadelphia, and made a short visit to the latter town. Philadelphia seems to me

to have thrown off its Quaker garb, and to present itself to the world in the garments ordinarily assumed by

large citiesby which I intend to express my opinion that the Philadelphians are not, in these latter days, any

better than their neighbors. I am not sure whether in some respects they may not perhaps be worse.

QuakersQuakers absolutely in the very flesh of close bonnets and brown knee breechesare still to be

seen there; but they are not numerous, and would not strike the eye if one did not specially look for a Quaker

at Philadelphia. It is a large town, with a very large hotelthere are no doubt half a dozen large hotels, but

one of them is specially greatwith long, straight streets, good shops and markets, and decent,

comfortablelooking houses. The houses of Philadelphia generally are not so large as those of other great

cities in the States. They are more modest than those of New York, and less commodious than those of

Boston. Their most striking appendage is the marble steps at the front doors. Two doors, as a rule, enjoy one

set of steps, on the outer edges of which there is generally no parapet or raised curbstone. This, to my eye,

gave the houses an unfinished appearanceas though the marble ran short, and no further expenditure could

be made. The frost came when I was there, and then all these steps were covered up in wooden cases.

The City of Philadelphia lies between the two rivers, the Delaware and the Schuylkill. Eight chief streets run

from river to river, and twentyfour principal crossstreets bisect the eight at right angles. The crossstreets

are all called by their numbers. In the long streets the numbers of the houses are not consecutive, but follow

the numbers of the crossstreets; so that a person living on Chestnut Street between Tenth Street and

Eleventh Street, and ten doors from Tenth Street, would live at No. 1010. The opposite house would be No.

1011. It thus follows that the number of the house indicates the exact block of houses in which it is situated. I

do not like the rightangled building of these towns, nor do I like the sound of Twentieth Street and Thirtieth

Street; but I must acknowledge that the arrangement in Philadelphia has its convenience. In New York I

They boast in Philadelphia that they have half a million inhabitants. If this be taken as a true calculation,

Philadelphia is in size the fourth city in the worldputting out of the question the cities of China, as to

which we have heard so much and believe so little. But in making this calculation the citizens include the

population of a district on some sides ten miles distant from Philadelphia. It takes in other towns, connected

with it by railway but separated by large spaces of open country. American cities are very proud of their

population; but if they all counted in this way, there would soon be no rural population left at all. There is a

very fine bank at Philadelphia, and Philadelphia is a town somewhat celebrated in its banking history. My

remarks here, however, apply simply to the external building, and not to its internal honesty and wisdom, or

In Philadelphia also stands the old house of Congressthe house in which the Congress of the United States

was held previous to 1800, when the government and the Congress with it were moved to the new City of

Washington. I believe, however, that the first Congress, properly so called, was assembled at New York in

1789, the date of the inauguration of the first President. It was, however, here in this building at Philadelphia

that the independence of the Union was declared in 1776, and that the Constitution of the United States was

Pennsylvania, with Philadelphia for its capital, was once the leading State of the Union, leading by a long

distance. At the end of the last century it beat all the other States in population, but has since been surpassed

by New York in all respectsin population, commerce, wealth, and general activity. Of course it is known

that Pennsylvania was granted to William Penn, the Quaker, by Charles II. I cannot completely understand

what was the meaning of such grantshow far they implied absolute possession in the territory, or how far

they confirmed simply the power of settling and governing a colony. In this case a very considerable property

was confirmed; as the claim made by Penn's children, after Penn's death, was bought up by the

commonwealth of Pennsylvania for 130,000l., which, in those days, was a large price for almost any landed

Pennsylvania lies directly on the borders of slave land, being immediately north of Maryland. Mason and

Dixon's line, of which we hear so often, and which was first established as the division between slave soil and

free soil, runs between Pennsylvania and Maryland. The little State of Delaware, which lies between

Maryland and the Atlantic, is also tainted with slavery, but the stain is not heavy nor indelible. In a

population of a hundred and twelve thousand, there are not two thousand slaves, and of these the owners

generally would willingly rid themselves if they could. It is, however, a point of honor with these owners, as

it is also in Maryland, not to sell their slaves; and a man who cannot sell his slaves must keep them. Were he

to enfranchise them and send them about their business, they would come back upon his hands. Were he to

enfranchise them and pay them wages for work, they would get the wages, but he would not get the work.

They would get the wages; but at the end of three months they would still fall back upon his hands in debt

and distress, looking to him for aid and comfort as a child looks for it. It is not easy to get rid of a slave in a

slave State. That question of enfranchising slaves is not one to be very readily solved.

In Pennsylvania the right of voting is confined to free white men. In New York the colored free men have the

right to vote, providing they have a certain small property qualification, and have been citizens for three years

in the State, whereas a white man need have been a citizen but for ten days, and need have no property

qualificationfrom which it is seen that the position of the negro becomes worse, or less like that of a white

man, as the border of slave land is more nearly reached. But, in the teeth of this embargo on colored men, the

constitution of Pennsylvania asserts broadly that all men are born equally free and independent. One cannot

conceive how two clauses can have found their way into the same document so absolutely contradictory to

each other. The first clause says that white men shall vote, and that black men shall notwhich means that

all political action shall be confined to white men. The second clause says that all men are born equally free

In Philadelphia I for the first time came across live secessionistssecessionists who pronounced themselves

to be such. I will not say that I had met in other cities men who falsely declared themselves true to the Union;

but I had fancied, in regard to some, that their words were a little stronger than their feelings. When a man's

breadand, much more, when the bread of his wife and childrendepends on his professing a certain line

of political conviction, it is very hard for him to deny his assent to the truth of the argument. One feels that a

man, under such circumstances, is bound to be convinced, unless he be in a position which may make a

stanch adherence to opposite politics a matter of grave public importance. In the North I had fancied that I

could sometimes read a secessionist tendency under a cloud of Unionist protestations. But in Philadelphia

men did not seem to think it necessary to have recourse to such a cloud. I generally found, in mixed society,

that even there the discussion of secession was not permitted; but in society that was not mixed I heard very

strong opinions expressed on each side. With the Unionists nothing was so strong as the necessity of keeping

of Slidell and Mason; when I suggested that the English government would probably require their surrender, I

was talked down and ridiculed. "Never thatcome what may." Then, within half an hour, I would be told by

a secessionist that England must demand reparation if she meant to retain any place among the great nations

of the world; but he also would declare that the men would not be surrendered. "She must make the demand,"

the secessionists would say, "and then there will be war; and after that we shall see whose ports will be

blockaded!" The Southerner has ever looked to England for some breach of the blockade quite as strongly as

The railway from Philadelphia to Baltimore passes along the top of Chesapeake Bay and across the

Susquehanna River; at least the railway cars do so. On one side of that river they are run on to a huge

ferryboat, and are again run off at the other side. Such an operation would seem to be one of difficulty to us

under any circumstances; but as the Susquehanna is a tidal river, rising and falling a considerable number of

feet, the natural impediment in the way of such an enterprise would, I think, have staggered us. We should

have built a bridge costing two or three millions sterling, on which no conceivable amount of traffic would

pay a fair dividend. Here, in crossing the Susquehanna, the boat is so constructed that its deck shall be level

with the line of the railway at half tide, so that the inclined plane from the shore down to the boat, or from the

shore up to the boat, shall never exceed half the amount of the rise or fall. One would suppose that the most

intricate machinery would have been necessary for such an arrangement; but it was all rough and simple, and

apparently managed by two negroes. We would employ a small corps of engineers to conduct such an

operation, and men and women would be detained in their carriages under all manner of threats as to the peril

of life and limb; but here everybody was expected to look out for himself. The cars were dragged up the

inclined plane by a hawser attached to an engine, which hawser, had the stress broken it, as I could not but

fancy probable, would have flown back and cut to pieces a lot of us who were standing in front of the car. But

I do not think that any such accident would have caused very much attention. Life and limbs are not held to

be so precious here as they are in England. It may be a question whether with us they are not almost too

precious. Regarding railways in America generally, as to the relative safety of which, when compared with

our own, we have not in England a high opinion, I must say that I never saw any accident or in any way

became conversant with one. It is said that large numbers of men and women are slaughtered from time to

time on different lines; but if it be so, the newspapers make very light of such cases. I myself have seen no

such slaughter, nor have I even found myself in the vicinity of a broken bone. Beyond the Susquehanna we

passed over a creek of Chesapeake Bay on a long bridge. The whole scenery here is very pretty, and the view

up the Susquehanna is fine. This is the bay which divides the State of Maryland into two parts, and which is

blessed beyond all other bays by the possession of canvasback ducks. Nature has done a great deal for the

State of Maryland, but in nothing more than in sending thither these webfooted birds of Paradise.

Nature has done a great deal for Maryland; and Fortune also has done much for it in these latter days in

directing the war from its territory. But for the peculiar position of Washington as the capital, all that is now

being done in Virginia would have been done in Maryland, and I must say that the Marylanders did their best

to bring about such a result. Had the presence of the war been regarded by the men of Baltimore as an

unalloyed benefit, they could not have made a greater struggle to bring it close to them. Nevertheless fate has

As the position of Maryland and the course of events as they took place in Baltimore on the commencement

of secession had considerable influence both in the North and in the South, I will endeavor to explain how

that State was affected, and how the question was affected by that State. Maryland, as I have said before, is a

slave State lying immediately south of Mason and Dixon's line. Small portions both of Virginia and of

Delaware do run north of Maryland, but practically Maryland is the frontier State of the slave States. It was

therefore of much importance to know which way Maryland would go in the event of secession among the

slave States becoming general; and of much also to ascertain whether it could secede if desirous of doing so. I

am inclined to think that as a State it was desirous of following Virginia, though there are many in Maryland

who deny this very stoutly. But it was at once evident that if loyalty to the North could not be had in

Maryland of its own free will, adherence to the North must be enforced upon Maryland. Otherwise the City

The question of the fidelity of the State to the Union was first tried by the arrival at Baltimore of a certain

Commissioner from the State of Mississippi, who visited that city with the object of inducing secession. It

must be understood that Baltimore is the commercial capital of Maryland, whereas Annapolis is the seat of

government and the legislatureor is, in other terms, the political capital. Baltimore is a city containing

230,000 inhabitants, and is considered to have as strong and perhaps as violent a mob as any city in the

Union. Of the above number 30,000 are negroes and 2000 are slaves. The Commissioner made his appeal,

telling his tale of Southern grievances, declaring, among other things, that secession was not intended to

break up the government but to perpetuate it, and asked for the assistance and sympathy of Maryland. This

was in December, 1860. The Commissioner was answered by Governor Hicks, who was placed in a

somewhat difficult position. The existing legislature of the State was presumed to be secessionist, but the

legislature was not sitting, nor in the ordinary course of things would that legislature have been called on to

sit again. The legislature of Maryland is elected every other year, and in the ordinary course sits only once in

the two years. That session had been held, and the existing legislature was therefore exempt from further

workunless specially summoned for an extraordinary session. To do this is within the power of the

Governor. But Governor Hicks, who seems to have been mainly anxious to keep things quiet, and whose

individual politics did not come out strongly, was not inclined to issue the summons. "Let us show

moderation as well as firmness," he said; and that was about all he did say to the Commissioner from

Mississippi. The Governor after that was directly called on to convene the legislature; but this he refused to

do, alleging that it would not be safe to trust the discussion of such a subject as secession to "excited

politicians, many of whom, having nothing to lose from the destruction of the government, may hope to

derive some gain from the ruin of the State!" I quote these words, coming from the head of the executive of

the State and spoken with reference to the legislature of the State, with the object of showing in what light the

political leaders of a State may be held in that very State to which they belong. If we are to judge of these

legislators from the opinion expressed by Governor Hicks, they could hardly have been fit for their places.

That plan of governing by the little men has certainly not answered. It need hardly be said that Governor

Hicks, having expressed such an opinion of his State's legislature, refused to call them to an extraordinary

On the 18th of April, 1860, Governor Hicks issued a proclamation to the people of Maryland, begging them

to be quiet, the chief object of which, however, was that of promising that no troops should be sent from their

State, unless with the object of guarding the neighboring City of Washingtona promise which he had no

means of fulfilling, seeing that the President of the United States is the commanderinchief of the army of

the nation, and can summon the militia of the several States. This proclamation by the Governor to the State

was immediately backed up by one from the Mayor of Baltimore to the city, in which he congratulates the

citizens on the Governor's promise that none of their troops are to be sent to another State; and then he tells

But on the very next day the horrors of civil war began in Baltimore. By this time President Lincoln was

collecting troops at Washington for the protection of the capital; and that army of the Potomac, which has

ever since occupied the Virginian side of the river, was in course of construction. To join this, certain troops

from Massachusetts were sent down by the usual route, via New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore; but on

their reaching Baltimore by railway, the mob of that town refused to allow them to pass through,and a

fight began. Nine citizens were killed and two soldiers, and as many more were wounded. This, I think, was

the first blood spilt in the civil war; and the attack was first made by the mob of the first slave city reached by

the Northern soldiers. This goes far to show, not that the border States desired secession, but that, when

compelled to choose between secession and Union, when not allowed by circumstances to remain neutral,

their sympathies were with their sister slave States rather than with the North.

Then there was a great running about of official men between Baltimore and Washington, and the President

was besieged with entreaties that no troops should be sent through Baltimore. Now this was hard enough

upon President Lincoln, seeing that he was bound to defend his capital, that he could get no troops from the

South, and that Baltimore is on the highroad from Washington both to the West and to the North; but,

nevertheless, he gave way. Had he not done so, all Baltimore would have been in a blaze of rebellion, and the

scene of the coming contest must have been removed from Virginia to Maryland, and Congress and the

government must have traveled from Washington north to Philadelphia. "They shall not come through

Baltimore," said Mr. Lincoln. "But they shall come through the State of Maryland. They shall be passed over

Chesapeake Bay by water to Annapolis, and shall come up by rail from thence." This arrangement was as

distasteful to the State of Maryland as the other; but Annapolis is a small town without a mob, and the

Marylanders had no means of preventing the passage of the troops. Attempts were made to refuse the use of

the Annapolis branch railway, but General Butler had the arranging of that. General Butler was a lawyer from

Boston, and by no means inclined to indulge the scruples of the Marylanders who had so roughly treated his

fellowcitizens from Massachusetts. The troops did therefore pass by Annapolis, much to the disgust of the

State. On the 27th of April, Governor Hicks, having now had a sufficiency of individual responsibility,

summoned the legislature of which he had expressed so bad an opinion; but on this occasion he omitted to

repeat that opinion, and submitted his views in very proper terms to the wisdom of the senators and

representatives. He entertains, as he says, an honest conviction that the safety of Maryland lies in preserving a

neutral position between the North and the South. Certainly, Governor Hicks, if it were only possible! The

legislature again went to work to prevent, if it might be prevented, the passage of troops through their State;

but luckily for them, they failed. The President was bound to defend Washington, and the Marylanders were

denied their wish of having their own fields made the fighting ground of the civil war.

That which appears to me to be the most remarkable feature in all this is the antagonism between United

States law and individual State feeling. Through the whole proceeding the Governor and the State of

Maryland seemed to have considered it quite reasonable to oppose the constitutional power of the President

and his government. It is argued in all the speeches and written documents that were produced in Maryland at

the time, that Maryland was true to the Union; and yet she put herself in opposition to the constitutional

military power of the President. Certain Commissioners went from the State legislature to Washington in

May, and from their report it appears that the President had expressed himself of opinion that Maryland might

do this or that "as long as she had not taken and was not about to take a hostile attitude to the Federal

government!" From which we are to gather that a denial of that military power given to the President by the

Constitution was not considered as an attitude hostile to the Federal government. At any rate, it was direct

disobedience to Federal law. I cannot but revert from this to the condition of the Fugitive Slave Law. Federal

law, and indeed the original constitution, plainly declare that fugitive slaves shall be given up by the freesoil

States. Massachusetts proclaims herself to be specially a Federal lawloving State. But every man in

Massachusetts knows that no judge, no sheriff, no magistrate, no policeman in that State would at this time,

or then, when that civil war was beginning, have lent a hand in any way to the rendition of a fugitive slave.

The Federal law requires the State to give up the fugitive, but the State law does not require judge, sheriff,

magistrate, or policeman to engage in such work, and no judge, sheriff or magistrate will do so; consequently

that Federal law is dead in Massachusetts, as it is also in every freesoil State,dead, except in as much as

there was life in it to create ill blood as long as the North and South remained together, and would be life in it

On the 10th of May, the Maryland legislature, having received the report of their Commissioners above

"Whereas, the war against the Confederate States is unconstitutional and repugnant to civilization, and will

result in a bloody and shameful overthrow of our constitution, and while recognizing the obligations of

Maryland to the Union, we sympathize with the South in the struggle for their rights; for the sake of humanity

we are for peace and reconciliation, and solemnly protest against this war, and will take no part in it.

"RESOLVED, That Maryland implores the President, in the name of God, to cease this unholy war, at least

until Congress assembles" a period of above six months. "That Maryland desires and consents to the

recognition of the independence of the Confederate States. The military occupation of Maryland is

unconstitutional, and she protests against it, though the violent interference with the transit of the Federal

troops is discountenanced. That the vindication of her rights be left to time and reason, and that a convention

under existing circumstances is inexpedient." From which it is plain that Maryland would have seceded as

effectually as Georgia seceded, had she not been prevented by the interposition of Washington between her

and the Confederate Statesthe happy intervention, seeing that she has thus been saved from becoming the

battleground of the contest. But the legislature had to pay for its rashness. On the 13th of September thirteen

of its members were arrested, as were also two editors of newspapers presumed to be secessionists. A

member of Congress was also arrested at the same time, and a candidate for Governor Hicks's place, who

belonged to the secessionist party. Previously, in the last days of June and beginning of July, the chief of the

police at Baltimore and the members of the Board of Police had been arrested by General Banks, who then

I should be sorry to be construed as saying that republican institutions, or what may more properly be called

democratic institutions, have been broken down in the States of America. I am far from thinking that they

have broken down. Taking them and their work as a whole, I think that they have shown and still show

vitality of the best order. But the written Constitution of the United States and of the several States, as

bearing upon each other, are not equal to the requirements made upon them. That, I think, is the conclusion to

which a spectator should come. It is in that doctrine of finality that our friends have broken downa doctrine

not expressed in their constitutions, and indeed expressly denied in the Constitution of the United States,

which provides the mode in which amendments shall be madebut appearing plainly enough in every word

of selfgratulation which comes from them. Political finality has ever proved a delusionas has the idea of

finality in all human institutions. I do not doubt but that the republican form of government will remain and

make progress in North America, but such prolonged existence and progress must be based on an

acknowledgment of the necessity for change, and must much depend on the facilities for change which shall

I have described the condition of Baltimore as it was early in May, 1861. I reached that city just seven

months later, and its condition was considerably altered. There was no question then whether troops should

pass through Baltimore, or by an awkward round through Annapolis, or not pass at all through Maryland.

General Dix, who had succeeded General Banks, was holding the city in his grip, and martial law prevailed.

In such times as those, it was bootless to inquire as to that promise that no troops should pass southward

through Baltimore. What have such assurances ever been worth in such days? Baltimore was now a military

depot in the hands of the Northern army, and General Dix was not a man to stand any trifling. He did me the

honor to take me to the top of Federal Hill, a suburb of the city, on which he had raised great earthworks and

planted mighty cannons, and built tents and barracks for his soldiery, and to show me how instantaneously he

could destroy the town from his exalted position. "This hill was made for the very purpose," said General

Dix; and no doubt he thought so. Generals, when they have fine positions and big guns and prostrate people

lying under their thumbs, are inclined to think that God's providence has specially ordained them and their

points of vantage. It is a good thing in the mind of a general so circumstanced that 200,000 men should be

made subject to a dozen big guns. I confess that to me, having had no military education, the matter appeared

in a different light, and I could not work up my enthusiasm to a pitch which would have been suitable to the

general's courtesy. That hill, on which many of the poor of Baltimore had lived, was desecrated in my eyes by

those columbiads. The neat earthworks were ugly, as looked upon by me; and though I regarded General

Dix as energetic, and no doubt skillful in the work assigned to him, I could not sympathize with his

Previously to the days of secession Baltimore had been guarded by Fort McHenry, which lies on a spit of

land running out into the bay just below the town. Hither I went with General Dix, and he explained to me

how the cannon had heretofore been pointed solely toward the sea; that, however, now was all changed, and

the mouths of his bombs and great artillery were turned all the other way. The commandant of the fort was

with us, and other officers, and they all spoke of this martial tenure as a great blessing. Hearing them, one

could hardly fail to suppose that they had lived their forty, fifty, or sixty years of life in full reliance on the

powers of a military despotism. But not the less were they American republicans, who, twelve months since,

would have dilated on the allsufficiency of their republican institutions, and on the absence of any military

restraint in their country, with that peculiar pride which characterizes the citizens of the States. There are,

Such was the state of Baltimore when I visited that city. I found, nevertheless, that cakes and ale still

prevailed there. I am inclined to think that cakes and ale prevail most freely in times that are perilous, and

when sources of sorrow abound. I have seen more reckless joviality in a town stricken by pestilence than I

ever encountered elsewhere. There was General Dix seated on Federal Hill with his cannon; and there,

beneath his artillery, were gentlemen hotly professing themselves to be secessionists, men whose sons and

brothers were in the Southern army, and women, alas! whose brothers would be in one army, and their sons

in another. That was the part of it which was most heartrending in this border land. In New England and New

York men's minds at any rate were bent all in the same directionas doubtless they were also in Georgia and

Alabama. But here fathers were divided from sons, and mothers from daughters. Terrible tales were told of

threats uttered by one member of a family against another. Old ties of friendship were broken up. Society had

so divided itself that one side could hold no terms of courtesy with the other. "When this is over," one

gentleman said to me, "every man in Baltimore will have a quarrel to the death on his hands with some friend

whom he used to love." The complaints made on both sides were eager and open mouthed against the other.

Late in the autumn an election for a new legislature of the State had taken place, and the members returned

were all supposed to be Unionists. That they were prepared to support the government is certain. But no

known or presumed secessionist was allowed to vote without first taking the oath of allegiance. The election,

therefore, even if the numbers were true, cannot be looked upon as a free election. Voters were stopped at the

poll and not allowed to vote unless they would take an oath which would, on their parts, undoubtedly have

been false. It was also declared in Baltimore that men engaged to promote the Northern party were permitted

to vote five or six times over, and the enormous number of votes polled on the government side gave some

coloring to the statement. At any rate, an election carried under General Dix's guns cannot be regarded as an

open election. It was out of the question that any election taken under such circumstances should be worth

anything as expressing the minds of the people. Red and white had been declared to be the colors of the

Confederates, and red and white had of course become the favorite colors of the Baltimore ladies. Then it was

given out that red and white would not be allowed in the streets. Ladies wearing red and white were requested

to return home. Children decorated with red and white ribbons were stripped of their bits of finerymuch to

their infantile disgust and dismay. Ladies would put red and white ornaments in their windows, and the police

would insist on the withdrawal of the colors. Such was the condition of Baltimore during the past winter.

Nevertheless cakes and ale abounded; and though there was deep grief in the city, and wailing in the recesses

of many houses, and a feeling that the good times were gone, never to return within the days of many of

them, still there existed an excitement and a consciousness of the importance of the crisis which was not

altogether unsatisfactory. Men and women can endure to be ruined, to be torn from their friends, to be

overwhelmed with avalanches of misfortune, better than they can endure to be dull.

Baltimore is, or at any rate was, an aspiring city, proud of its commerce and proud of its society. It has

regarded itself as the New York of the South, and to some extent has forced others so to regard it also. In

many respects it is more like an English town than most of its Transatlantic brethren, and the ways of its

inhabitants are English. In old days a pack of fox hounds was kept hereor indeed in days that are not yet

very old, for I was told of their doings by a gentleman who had long been a member of the hunt. The country

looks as a hunting country should look, whereas no man that ever crossed a field after a pack of hounds

would feel the slightest wish to attempt that process in New England or New York. There is in Baltimore an

old inn with an old sign, standing at the corner of Eutaw and Franklin Streets, just such as may still be seen in

the towns of Somersetshire, and before it there are to be seen old wagons, covered and soiled and battered,

about to return from the city to the country, just as the wagons do in our own agricultural counties. I have

But canvasback ducks and terrapins are the great glories of Baltimore. Of the nature of the former bird I

believe all the world knows something. It is a wild duck which obtains the peculiarity of its flavor from the

wild celery on which it feeds. This celery grows on the Chesapeake Bay, and I believe on the Chesapeake

Bay only. At any rate, Baltimore is the headquarters of the canvasbacks, and it is on the Chesapeake Bay

that they are shot. I was kindly invited to go down on a shootingparty; but when I learned that I should have

to ensconce myself alone for hours in a wet wooden box on the water's edge, waiting there for the chance of a

duck to come to me, I declined. The fact of my never having as yet been successful in shooting a bird of any

kind conduced somewhat, perhaps, to my decision. I must acknowledge that the canvasback duck fully

deserves all the reputation it has acquired. As to the terrapin, I have not so much to say. The terrapin is a

small turtle, found on the shores of Maryland and Virginia, out of which a very rich soup is made. It is

cooked with wines and spices, and is served in the shape of a hash, with heaps of little bones mixed through

it. It is held in great repute, and the guest is expected as a matter of course to be helped twice. The man who

did not eat twice of terrapin would be held in small repute, as the Londoner is held who at a city banquet does

not partake of both thick and thin turtle. I must, however, confess that the terrapin for me had no surpassing

Maryland was so called from Henrietta Maria, the wife of Charles I., by which king, in 1632, the territory

was conceded to the Roman Catholic Lord Baltimore. It was chiefly peopled by Roman Catholics, but I do

not think that there is now any such specialty attaching to the State. There are in it two or three old Roman

Catholic families, but the people have come down from the North, and have no peculiar religious tendencies.

Some of Lord Baltimore's descendants remained in the State up to the time of the Revolution. From