The building is very spacious, as may be imagined when I state that in the busy times, from one hundred and fifty to two, or even three hundred, generally sit down at the dinner-table. The upper stories contain an immense number of bed-rooms, with their doors opening upon long corridors, with little variety in their furniture and arrangement, except that some are provided with large beds for married people, and others with single beds. The basement of the building contains the dinner-room, of ample dimensions, to receive the guests, who at the sound of a gong rush in, and in a few minutes have finished their repast. The same room is appropriated to breakfast and supper. In most hotels there is but one dining-room, to which ladies and gentlemen both repair, but in the more considerable, there is a smaller dining-room for the ladies and their connexions who escort them. The ladies have also a large parlour to retire to; the gentlemen have the reading-room, containing some of the principal newspapers, and the Bar, of which hereafter. If a gentleman wants to give a dinner to a private party in any of these large hotels, he can do it; or if a certain number of families join together, they may also eat in a separate room (this is frequently done at Washington;) but if a traveller wishes to seclude himself a l'Anglaise, and dine in his own room, he must make up his mind to fare very badly, and, moreover, if he is a foreigner, he will give great offence, and be pointed out as an aristocrat—almost as serious a charge with the majority in the United States, as it was in France during the Revolution.

The largest hotels in the United States are Astor House, New York; Tremont House, Boston; Mansion house, Philadelphia; the hotels at West Point, and at Buffalo; but it is unnecessary to enumerate them all. The two pleasantest, are the one at West Point, which was kept by Mr Cozens, and that belonging to Mr Head, the Mansion House at Philadelphia; but the latter can scarcely be considered as a hotel, not only because Mr Head is, and always was, a gentleman with whom it is a pleasure to associate, but because he is very particular in whom he receives, and only gentlemen are admitted. It is more like a private club than any thing else I can compare it to, and I passed some of my pleasantest time in America at his establishment, and never bid farewell to him or his sons, or the company, without regret. There are some hotels in New York upon the English system: the Globe is the best, and I always frequented it; and there is an excellent French restaurateur's (Delmonico's).

Of course, where the population and traffic are great, and the travellers who pass through numerous, the hotels are large and good; where, on the contrary, the road is less and less frequented, so do they decrease in importance, size, and respectability, until you arrive at the farm-house entertainment of Virginia and Kentucky; the grocery, or mere grog-shop, or the log-house of the Far West. The way-side inns are remarkable for their uniformity; the furniture of the bar-room is invariably the same: a wooden clock, map of the United States, map of the State, the Declaration of Independence, a looking-glass, with a hair-brush and comb hanging to it by strings, pro bono publico; sometimes with the extra embellishment of one or two miserable pictures, such as General Jackson scrambling upon a horse, with fire or steam coming out of his nostrils, going to the battle of New Orleans, etcetera, etcetera.

He who is of the silver-fork school, will not find much comfort out of the American cities and large towns. There are no neat, quiet little inns, as in England. It is all the "rough and tumble" system, and when you stop at humble inns you must expect to eat peas with a two-pronged fork, and to sit down to meals with people whose exterior is any thing but agreeable, to attend upon yourself, and to sleep in a room in which there are three or four other beds; (I have slept in one with nearly twenty,) most of them carrying double, even if you do not have a companion in your own.

A New York friend of mine travelling in an Extra with his family, told me that at a western inn he had particularly requested that he might not have a bed-fellow, and was promised that he should not. On his retiring, he found his bed already occupied, and he went down to the landlady, and expostulated. "Well," replied she, "it's only your own driver; I thought you wouldn't mind him."

Another gentleman told me, that having arrived at a place called Snake's Hollow, on the Mississippi, the bed was made on the kitchen-floor, and the whole family and travellers, amounting in all to seventeen, of all ages and both sexes, turned into the same bed altogether. Of course this must be expected in a new country, and is a source of amusement, rather than of annoyance.

I must now enter into a very important question, which is that of eating and drinking. Mr Cooper, in his remarks upon his own countrymen, says, very ill-naturedly—"The Americans are the grossest feeders of any civilised nation known. As a nation, their food is heavy, coarse, and indigestible, while it is taken in the least artificial forms that cookery will allow. The predominance of grease in the American kitchen, coupled with the habits of hearty eating, and of constant expectoration, are the causes of the diseases of the stomach which are so common in America."

This is not correct. The cookery in the United States is exactly what it is and must be every where else—in a ratio with the degree of refinement of the population. In the principal cities, you will meet with as good cookery in private houses as you will in London, or even Paris; indeed, considering the great difficulty which the Americans have to contend with, from the almost impossibility of obtaining good servants, I have often been surprised that it is so good as it is. At Delmonico's, and the Globe Hotel at New York, where you dine from the Carte, you have excellent French cookery; so you have at Astor House, particularly at private parties; and, generally speaking, the cooking at all the large hotels may be said to be good; indeed, when it is considered that the American table-d'hote has to provide for so many people, it is quite surprising how well it is done. The daily dinner, at these large hotels, is infinitely superior to any I have ever sat down to at the public entertainments given at the Free-Masons' Tavern, and others in London, and the company is usually more numerous. The bill of fare of the table-d'hote of the Astor House is printed every day. I have one with me which I shall here insert, to prove that the eating is not so bad in America as described by Mr Cooper.

====================================== YAstor House, Wednesday, March 21, 1838.Y ———————————————————- YTable-d'Hote Y ———————————————————- YVermicelli Soup Y ———————————————————- YBoiled Cod Fish and Oysters Y ———————————————————- YDo. Corn'd Beef Y ———————————————————- YDo. Ham Y ———————————————————- YDo. Tongue Y ———————————————————- YDo. Turkey and Oysters Y ———————————————————- YDo. Chickens and Pork Y ———————————————————- YDo. Leg of Mutton Y ———————————————————- YOyster Pie Y ———————————————————- YCuisse de Poulet Sauce Tomate Y ———————————————————- YPoitrine de Veau au Blanc Y ———————————————————- YBallon de Mouton au Tomate Y ———————————————————- YTete de Veau en Marinade Y ———————————————————- YSalade de Volaille Y ———————————————————- YCasserolle de Pomme de Terre garnie Y ———————————————————- YCompote de Pigeon Y ———————————————————- YRolleau de Veau a la Jardiniere Y ———————————————————- YCotelettes de Veau Saute Y ———————————————————- YFilet de Mouton Pique aux Ognons Y ———————————————————- YRonde de Boeuf Y ———————————————————- YFricandeau de Veau aux Epinards Y ———————————————————- YCotelettes de Mouton Panee Y ———————————————————- YMacaroni au Parmesan Y ———————————————————- YRoast Beef Y ———————————————————- YDo. Pig Y ———————————————————- YDo. Veal Y ———————————————————- YDo. Leg of Mutton Y ———————————————————- YRoast Goose Y ———————————————————- YDo. Turkey Y ———————————————————- YRoast Chickens Y ———————————————————- YDo. Wild Ducks Y ———————————————————- YDo. Wild Goose Y ———————————————————- YDo. Guinea Fowl Y ———————————————————- YRoast Brandt Y ———————————————————- YQueen Pudding Y ———————————————————- YMince Pie Y ———————————————————- YCream Puffs Y ———————————————————- YDessert. Y ======================================

There are some trifling points relative to eating which I shall not remark upon until I speak of society, as they will there be better placed. Of course, as you advance into the country, and population recedes, you run through all the scale of cookery until you come to the "corn bread, and common doings," (i.e. bread made of Indian meal, and fat pork,) in the Far West. In a new country, pork is more easily raised than any other meat, and the Americans eat a great deal of pork, which renders the cooking in the small taverns very greasy; with the exception of the Virginian farm taverns, where they fry chickens without grease in a way which would be admired by Ude himself; but this is a State receipt, handed down from generation to generation, and called chicken fixings. The meat in America is equal to the best in England; Miss Martineau does indeed say that she never ate good beef during the whole time she was in this country; but she also says that an American stage-coach is the most delightful of all conveyances, and a great many other things, which I may hereafter quote, to prove the idiosyncracy of the lady's disposition; so we will let that pass, with the observation that there is no accounting for taste. The American markets in the cities are well supplied. I have been in the game market, at New York, and seen at one time nearly three hundred head of deer, with quantities of bear, racoons, wild turkeys, geese, ducks, and every variety of bird in countless profusion. Bear I abominate; racoon is pretty good. The wild turkey is excellent; but the great delicacies in America are the terrapin, and the canvas-back ducks. To like the first I consider as rather an acquired taste. I decidedly prefer the turtle, which are to be had in plenty, all the year round; but the canvas-back duck is certainly well worthy of its reputation. Fish is well supplied. They have the sheep's head, shad, and one or two others, which we have not. Their salmon is not equal to ours, and they have no turbot. Pine-apples, and almost all the tropical fruits, are hawked about in carts in the Eastern cities; but I consider the fruit of the temperate zone, such as grapes, peaches, etcetera, inferior to the English. Oysters are very plentiful, very large, and, to an English palate, rather insipid. As the Americans assert that the English and French oysters taste of copper, and that therefore they cannot eat them, I presume they do; and that's the reason why we do not like the American oysters, copper being better than no flavour at all.

I think, after this statement, that the English will agree with me that there are plenty of good things for the table in America; but the old proverb says, "God sends meat, and the devil sends cooks;" and such is, and unfortunately must be, the case for a long while, in most of the houses in America, owing to the difficulty of obtaining, or keeping servants. But I must quit the subject of eating, for one of much more importance in America, which is that of drinking.

I always did consider that the English and the Swiss were the two nations who most indulged in potations; but on my arrival in the United States, I found that our descendants, in this point most assuredly, as they fain would be thought to do in all others, surpassed us altogether.

Impartiality compels me to acknowledge the truth; we must, in this instance, submit to a national defeat. There are many causes for this: first, the heat of the climate, next the coldness of the climate, then the changeableness of the climate; add to these, the cheapness of liquor in general, the early disfranchisement of the youth from all parental control, the temptation arising from the bar and association, and, lastly, the pleasantness, amenity, and variety of the potations.

Reasons, therefore, are as plentiful as blackberries, and habit becomes second nature.

To run up the whole catalogue of the indigenous compounds in America, from "iced water" to a "stone fence," or "streak of lightning," would fill a volume; I shall first speak of foreign importations.

The Port in America is seldom good; the climate appears not to agree with the wine. The quantity of Champagne drunk is enormous, and would absorb all the vintage of France, were it not that many hundred thousand bottles are consumed more than are imported.

The small state of New Jersey has the credit of supplying the American Champagne, which is said to be concocted out of turnip juice, mixed with brandy and honey. It is a pleasant and harmless drink, a very good imitation, and may be purchased at six or seven dollars a dozen. I do not know what we shall do when America fills up, if the demand for Champagne should increase in proportion to the population; we had better drink all we can now.

Claret, and the other French wines, do very well in America, but where the Americans beat us out of the field is in their Madeira, which certainly is of a quality which we cannot procure in England. This is owing to the extreme heat and cold of the climate, which ripens this wine; indeed, I may almost say, that I never tasted good Madeira, until I arrived in the United States. The price of wines, generally speaking, is very high, considering what a trifling duty is paid, but the price of good Madeira is surprising. There are certain brands, which if exposed to public auction, will be certain to fetch from twelve to twenty, and I have been told even forty dollars a bottle. I insert a list of the wines at Astor House, to prove that there is no exaggeration in what I have asserted. Even in this list of a tavern, the reader will find that the best Madeira is as high as twelve dollars a bottle, and the list is curious from the variety which it offers.

But the Americans do not confine themselves to foreign wines or liquors; they have every variety at home, in the shape of compounds, such as mint-julep and its varieties; slings in all their varieties; cocktails, but I really cannot remember, or if I could, it would occupy too much time to mention the whole battle array against one's brains. I must, however, descant a little upon the mint-julep; as it is, with the thermometer at 100 degrees, one of the most delightful and insinuating potations that ever was invented, and may be drank with equal satisfaction when the thermometer is as low as 70 degrees. There are many varieties, such as those composed of Claret, Madeira, etcetera; but the ingredients of the real mint-julep are as follows. I learnt how to make them, and succeeded pretty well. Put into a tumbler about a dozen sprigs of the tender shoots of mint, upon them put a spoonful of white sugar, and equal proportions of peach and common brandy, so as to fill it up one third, or perhaps a little less. Then take rasped or pounded ice, and fill up the tumbler. Epicures rub the lips of the tumbler with a piece of fresh pine-apple, and the tumbler itself is very often incrusted outside with stalactites of ice. As the ice melts, you drink. I once overheard two ladies talking in the next room to me, and one of them said, "Well, we have a weakness for any one thing, it is for a mint-julep—" a very amiable weakness, and proving her good sense and good taste. They are, in fact, like the American ladies, irresistible.

The Virginians claim the merit of having invented this superb compound, but I must dispute it for my own country, although it has been forgotten of late. In the times of Charles the First and Second it must have been known, for Milton expressly refers to it in his Comus:—

"Behold the cordial julep—here Which flames and dances in its crystal bounds With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed. Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena Is of such power to stir up joy like this, To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst."

If that don't mean mint-julep, I don't know the English language.

The following lines, however, which I found in an American newspaper, dates its origin very far back, even to the period when the heathen gods were not at a discount as they are now.

ORIGIN OF MINT-JULEP.

'Tis said that the gods, on Olympus of old, (And who, the bright legend profanes, with a doubt,) One night, 'mid their revels, by Bacchus were told That his last butt of nectar had somewhat run out!

But determined to send round the goblet once more, They sued to the fairer immortals—for aid In composing a draught which, till drinking were o'er, Should cast every wine ever drank in the shade.

Grave Cerce herself blithely yielded her corn, And the spirit that lives in each amber-hued grain, And which first had its birth from the dews of the morn, Was taught to steal out in bright dew drops again.

Pomona, whose choicest of fruits on the board, Were scattered profusely in every one's reach, When called on a tribute to cull from the board, Expressed the mild juice of the delicate peach.

The liquids were mingled while Venus looked on With glances so fraught with sweet-magical power, That the honey of Ilybla, e'en when they were gone, Has never been missed in the draught from that hour.

Flora, then, from her bosom of fragrance shook, And with roseate fingers pressed down in the bowl, As dripping and fresh as it came from the brook, The herb whose aroma should flavour the whole.

The draught was delicious, each god did exclaim, Though something yet wanting they all did bewail, But Julep the drink of immortals became, When Jove himself added a handful of hail.

I have mentioned the principal causes to which must be assigned the propensity to drink, so universal in America. This is an undeniable fact, asserted by every other writer, acknowledged by the Americans themselves in print, and proved by the labours of their Temperance Societies. It is not confined to the lower classes, but pervades the whole mass: of course, where there is most refinement, there is less intoxication, and in the Southern and Western States, it is that the custom of drinking is most prevalent.

I have said that in the American hotels there is a parlour for the ladies to retire to: there is not one for the gentlemen, who have only the reading-room, where they stand and read the papers, which are laid out on desks, or the bar.

The bar of an American hotel is generally a very large room on the basement, fitted up very much like our gin palaces in London, not so elegant in its decorations indeed, but on the same system. A long counter runs across it, behind which stand two or three bar-keepers to wait upon the customers, and distribute the various potations, compounded from the contents of several rows of bottles behind them. Here the eye reposes on masses of pure crystal ice, large bunches of mint, decanters of every sort of wine, every variety of spirits, lemons, sugar, bitters, cigars and tobacco; it really makes one feel thirsty, even the going into a bar. [See Note 3.] Here you meet every body and every body meets you. Here the senator, the member of Congress, the merchant, the store-keeper, travellers from the Far West, and every other part of the country, who have come to purchase goods, all congregate.

Most of them have a cigar in their mouth, some are transacting business, others conversing, some sitting down together whispering confidentially. Here you obtain all the news, all the scandal, all the politics, and all the fun; it is this dangerous propinquity, which occasions so much intemperance. Mr Head has no bar at the Mansion-house in Philadelphia, and the consequence is, that there is no drinking, except wine at dinner; but in all the other hotels, it would appear as if they purposely allowed the frequenters no room to retire to, so that they must be driven to the bar, which is by far the most profitable part of the concern.

The consequence of the bar being the place of general resort, is, that there is an unceasing pouring out, and amalgamation of alcohol, and other compounds, from morning to late at night. To drink with a friend when you meet him is good fellowship, to drink with a stranger is politeness, and a proof of wishing to be better acquainted.

Mr A is standing at the bar, enter B. "My dear B, how are you?"—"Quite well, and you?"—"Well, what shall it be?"—"Well, I don't care—a gin sling."—"Two gin slings, Bar-keeper." Touch glasses, and drink. Mr A has hardly swallowed his gin sling, and replaced his cigar, when, in comes Mr D. "A, how are you?"—"Ah! D, how goes it on with you?"—"Well, I thankey—what shall we have?"—"Well, I don't care; I say brandy cocktail."—"Give me another," both drink, and the shilling is thrown down on the counter.

Then B comes up again. "A, you must allow me to introduce my friend C."—"Mr A"—shake hands—"Most happy to make the acquaintance. I trust I shall have the pleasure of drinking—something with you?"—"With great pleasure, Mr A, I will take a julep."—"Two juleps, Bar-keeper."—"Mr C, your good health"—"Mr A, yours; if you should come our way, most happy to see you,"—drink.

Now, I will appeal to the Americans themselves, if this is not a fair sample of a bar-room.

They say that the English cannot settle any thing properly, without a dinner. I am sure the Americans can fix nothing, without a drink. If you meet, you drink; if you part, you drink; if you make acquaintance, you drink; if you close a bargain you drink; they quarrel in their drink, and they make it up with a drink. They drink, because it is hot; they drink because it is cold. If successful in elections, they drink and rejoice; if not, they drink and swear; they begin to drink early in the morning, they leave off late at night; they commence it early in life, and they continue it, until they soon drop into the grave. To use their own expression, the way they drink, is "quite a caution" [See Note 4.] As for water, what the man said, when asked to belong to the Temperance Society, appears to be the general opinion, "it's very good for navigation."

So much has it become the habit to cement all friendship, and commence acquaintance by drinking, that it is a cause of serious offence to refuse, especially in a foreigner, as the Americans like to call the English. I was always willing to accommodate the Americans in this particular, as far as I could; (there at least, they will do me justice;) that at times I drank much more than I wished is certain, yet still I gave most serious offence, especially in the West, because I would not drink early in the morning, or before dinner, which is a general custom in the States, although much more prevalent in the South and West, where it is literally, "Stranger, will you drink or fight?" This refusal on my part, or rather excusing myself from drinking with all those who were introduced to me, was eventually the occasion of much disturbance and of great animosity towards me—certainly, most unreasonably, as I was introduced to at least twenty every forenoon; and had I drunk with them all, I should have been in the same state as many of them were—that is, not really sober for three or four weeks at a time.

That the constitutions of the Americans must suffer from this habit is certain; they do not, however, appear to suffer so much as we should. They say that you may always know the grave of a Virginian; as from the quantity of juleps he has drunk, mint invariably springs up where he has been buried. But the Virginians are not the greatest drinkers, by any means. I was once looking for an American, and asked a friend of his, where I should find him. "Why," replied he, pointing to an hotel opposite, "that is his licking place, (a term borrowed from deer resorting to lick the salt:) we will see if he is there." He was not; the bar-keeper said he had left about ten minutes. "Well, then, you had better remain here, he is certain to be back in ten more—if not sooner." The American judged his friend rightly; in five minutes he was back again, and we had a drink together, of course.

I did not see it myself, but I was told that somewhere in Missouri, or thereabouts, west of the Mississippi, all the bars have what they term a kicking-board, it being the custom with the people who live there, instead of touching glasses when they drink together, to kick sharply with the side of the foot against the board, and that after this ceremony you are sworn friends. I have had it mentioned to me by more than one person, therefore I presume it is the case. What the origin of it is I know not, unless it intends to imply, "I'm your's to the last kick."

Before I finish this article on hotels, I may as well observe here that there is a custom in the United States, which I consider very demoralising to the women, which is that of taking up permanent residence in large hotels.

There are several reasons for this: one is, that people marry so very early that they cannot afford to take a house with the attendant expenses, for in America it is cheaper to live in a large hotel than to keep a house of your own; another is, the difficulty of obtaining servants, and, perhaps, the unwillingness of the women to have the fatigue and annoyance which is really occasioned by an establishment in that country: added to which is the want of society, arising from their husbands being from morning to night plodding at their various avocations. At some of the principal hotels you will find the apartments of the lodgers so permanently taken, that the plate with their name engraved on it is fixed on the door. I could almost tell whether a lady in America kept own establishment or lived at an hotel, the difference of manners are so marked; and, what is worse, it is chiefly the young married couples who are to be found there. Miss Martineau makes some very just comments upon this practice:—

"The uncertainty about domestic service is so great, and the economy of boarding-house life so tempting to people who have not provided themselves with house and furniture, that it is not to be wondered at that many young married people use the accommodation provided. But no sensible husband, who could beforehand become acquainted with the liabilities incurred, would willingly expose his domestic peace to the fearful risk. I saw enough when I saw the elegantly dressed ladies repair to the windows of the common drawing-room, on their husbands' departure to the counting-house after breakfast.

"I have been assured that there is no end to the difficulties in which gentlemen have been involved, both as to their commercial and domestic affairs, by the indiscretion of their thoughtless young wives, amidst the idleness and levities of boarding-house life. As for the gentlemen, they are much to be pitied. Public meals, a noisy house, confinement to one or two private rooms, with the absence of all gratifications of their own peculiar convenience and taste, are but a poor solace to the man of business, after the toils and cares of the day. When to these are added the snares to which their wives are exposed, it may be imagined that men of sense and refinement would rather bear with any domestic inconvenience from the uncertainty and bad quality of help, than give up housekeeping."

If such is the case in boarding-houses, what must it be in hotels, where the male company is ever changing. It is one constant life of scandal, flirting, eating, drinking, and living in public; the sense of delicacy is destroyed, and the women remind you of the flowers that have been breathed upon till they have lost their perfume.

Miss M observes:—

"I can only say, that I unavoidably knew of more eases of lapse in highly respectable families in one State than ever came to my knowledge at home; and that they were got over with a disgrace far more temporary and superficial than they could have been visited with in England."

If this observation is correct, it must, in my opinion, be considered as referring to that portion of the sex who live in hotels, certainly not to the mass, for reasons which I shall hereafter point out.

Indeed, what I have seen at some of the large hotels fully bears out her assertion. Miss M talks of young ladies being taken to the piano in a promiscuous company. I have seen them go to the piano without being taken there, sit down and sing with all the energy of peacocks, before total strangers, and very often without accompaniment. In the hotels, the private apartments of the boarders seldom consist of more than a large bed-room, and although company are admitted into it, still it is natural that the major portion of the women's time should be passed down below in the general receiving room. In the evening, especially in the large western cities, they have balls almost every night; indeed it is a life of idleness and vacuity of outward pretence, but of no real good feeling.

Scandal rages—every one is busy with watching her neighbour's affairs; those who have boarded there longest take the lead, and every newcomer or stranger is canvassed with the most severe scrutiny; their histories are ascertained, and they are very often sent to Coventry, for little better reason than the will of those who, as residents, lay down the law.

Indeed, I never witnessed a more ridiculous compound of pretended modesty, and real want of delicacy, than is to be found with this class of sojourners on the highway. Should any of their own sex arrive, of whom some little scandal has been afloat, they are up in arms, and down they plump in their rocking-chairs; and although the hotel may cover nearly an acre of ground, so afraid are they of contamination, that they declare they will not go down to dinner, or eat another meal in the hotel, until the obnoxious parties "clear out." The proprietors are summoned, husbands are bullied, and, rather than indignant virtue should starve in her rocking-chair, a committee is formed, and the libelled parties, guilty or not guilty, are requested to leave the hotel. As soon as this purification is announced, virtue, appeased, recovers her appetite, and they all eat drink, talk scandal, flirt, and sing without invitation as before.

I have been severe upon this class of society in America, not only because I consider that it deserves it, but because I wish to point out that Miss Martineau's observations must be considered as referring to it, and not to the general character of the American woman.

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Note 1. The Americans are apt to boast that they have not to pay for civility, as we do in England, by facing waiters, coachmen, etcetera. In some respects this is true, but in the cities the custom has become very prevalent. A man who attends a large dinner-table, will of course pay more attention to those who give him something, than to those who do not; one gives him something, and another, if he wishes for attention and civility, is obliged to do the same thing. In some of the hotels at New York, and in the principal cities, you not only must fee, but you must fee much higher than you do in England, if you want to be comfortable.

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Note 2. If I am rightly informed; there are very unpleasant cutaneous diseases to which the Americans are subject, from the continual use of the same brush and comb, and from sleeping together, etcetera, but it is a general custom. At Philadelphia, a large ball was given, (called, I think, the Fireman's Ball,) and at which about 1,500 people were present, all the fashion of Philadelphia; yet even here there were six combs, and six brushes, placed in a room with six looking-glasses for the use of all the gentlemen. An American has come into my room in New York, and sans ceremonie taken up my hair-brush, and amused himself with brushing his head. They are certainly very unrefined in the toilet as yet. When I was travelling, on my arrival at a city I opened my dressing case, and a man passing by my room when the door was open, attracted by the glitter, I presume, came in and looked at the apparatus which is usually contained in such articles—"Pray, Sir," said he, "are you a dentist?"

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Note 3. Every steam-boat has its bar. The theatres, all places of public amusement, and even the capitol itself; as I have observed in my Diary.

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Note 4. It was not a bad idea of a man who, generally speaking, was very low-spirited, on being asked the cause, replied, that he did not know, but he thought "that he had been born with three drinks too little in him."

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Note 5. In a chapter which follows this, I have said that the women of America are physically superior to the men. This may appear contradictory, as of course they could not be born so; nor are they, for I have often remarked how very fine the American male children are, especially those lads who have grown up to the age of fourteen or sixteen. One could hardly believe it possible that the men are the same youths, advanced in life. How is this to be accounted for? I can only suppose that it is from their plunging too early into life as men, having thrown off parental control, and commencing the usual excesses of young men in every country at too tender an age. The constant stimulus of drink must, of course, be another powerful cause; not that the Americans often become intoxicated, on the contrary, you will see many more in this condition every day in this country than you will in America. But occasional intoxication is not so injurious to the constitution as that continual application of spirits, which must enfeeble the stomach, and, with the assistance of tobacco, destroy its energies. The Americans are a drinking but not a drunken, nation, and, as I have before observed, the climate operates upon them very powerfully.



VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER FIVE.

EMIGRATION AND MIGRATION.

In this chapter I shall confine myself to the emigration to the United States, reserving that to Canada until I remark upon that colony. In discussing this question I have no statistics to refer to, and must, therefore, confine myself to general observations.

What the amount of emigration from the Old Continent to the United States may be at present I do not think the Americans themselves can tell, as many who arrive at New York go on to the Canadas. The emigrants are, however, principally English, Irish, and German; latterly, the emigration to New South Wales, New Zealand, and particularly Texas, has reduced the influx of emigrants to the United States.

It ought to be pointed out, that among the emigrants are to be found the portion of the people in the United States the most disaffected and the most violent against England and its monarchical institutions; and who assist very much to keep up the feelings of dislike and ill-will which exist towards us. Nor is this to be wondered at; the happy and the wealthy do not go into exile; they are mostly disappointed and unhappy men, who attribute their misfortunes, often occasioned by their own imprudence, to any cause but the true one, and hate their own country and its institutions because they have been unfortunate in it. They form Utopian ideas of liberty and prosperity to be obtained by emigration; they discover that they have been deceived, and would willingly, if possible, return to the country they have abjured, and the friends they have left behind. This produces an increase of irritation and ill-will, and they become the more violent vituperative in proportion as they feel the change. [See Note 1.]

I have had many conversations with English emigrants in the United States, and I never yet found one at all respectable, who did not confess to me that he repented of emigration. One great cause of this is honourable to them; they feel that in common plain-dealing they are no match for the keen-witted, and I must add unprincipled, portion of the population with which they are thrown in contact. They must either sacrifice their principle or not succeed.

Many have used the same expression to me. "It is no use, sir, you must either turn regular Yankee and do as they do, or you have no chance of getting on in this country."

These people are much to be pitied; I used to listen to them with feelings of deep compassion. Having torn themselves away from old associations, and broken the links which should have bound them to their native soil, with the expectation of finding liberty, equality, and competence in a new country, they have discovered when too late that they have not a fraction of the liberty which is enjoyed in the country which they have left; that they have severed themselves from their friends to live amongst those with whom they do not like to associate; that they must now labour with their own hands, instead of employing others; and that the competence they expected, if it is to be obtained, must be so by a sacrifice of those principles of honesty and fair-dealing imbibed in their youth, adhered to in their manhood, but which now that they have transplanted themselves, are gradually, although unwillingly, yielded up to the circumstances of their position.

I was once conversing with an Irishman; he was not very well pleased with his change; I laughed at him, and said, "But here you are free, Paddy."—"Free?" replied he, "and pray who the devil was to buy or sell me when I was in Ireland? Free! och! that's all talk; you're free to work as hard as a horse, and get but little for so doing."

The German emigrants are by far the most contented and well-behaved. They trouble themselves less about politics, associate with one another as much as possible, and when they take a farm, always, if they possibly can, get it in the neighbourhood of their own countrymen.

The emigrants most troublesome, but, at the same time, the most valuable to the United States, are the Irish. Without this class of people the Americans would not have been able to complete the canals and rail-roads, and many other important works. They are, in fact, the principal labourers of the country, for the poor Germans who come out prefer being employed in any other way than in agriculture, until they amass sufficient to obtain farms of their own. As for the Irish, there are not many of them who possess land in the United States, the major portion of them remain labourers, and die very little better off than when they went out. Some of them set up groceries (these are the most calculating and intelligent,)—and by allowing their countrymen to run in debt for liquor, etcetera, they obtain control over them, and make contracts with the government agents, or other speculators (very advantageous to themselves,) to supply so many men for public works; by these means a few acquire a great deal of money, while the many remain in comparative indigence.

We have been accustomed to ascribe the turbulence of the Irish lower classes to ill-treatment and a sense of their wrongs, but this disposition appears to follow them every where. It would be supposed that, having emigrated to America and obtained the rights of citizens, they would have amalgamated and fraternised to a certain degree with the people: but such is not the case; they hold themselves completely apart and distinct, living with their families in the same quarter of the city, and adhering to their own manners and customs. They are just as little pleased with the institutions of the United States as they are with the government at home; the fact is, that they would prefer no government at all, if (as Paddy himself would say) they knew where to find it. They are the leaders in all the political rows and commotions, and very powerful as a party in all elections, not only on account of their numbers (if I recollect rightly, they muster 40,000 at New York,) but by their violence preventing other people from coming to the poll; and, farther, by multiplying themselves, so as greatly to increase their force, by voting several times over, which they do by going from one ward to another. I was told by one of them that, on the last election he had voted seven times. [See Note 2.]

An American once said to me that the lower Irish ruled the United States, and he attempted to prove his assertion as follows:

The New York election is carried by the Irish; now the New York election has great influence upon the other elections, and often carries the State. The State of New York has great influence upon the elections of other States, and therefore the Irish of New York govern the country.— QED.

The Irish, in one point, appear to improve in the United States—they become much more provident, and many of them hoard their money. They put it into the Savings Banks, and when they have put in the sum allowed by law to one person, they deposite in other names.

A captain of one of the steam-boats told me an anecdote or two relative to the Irish emigrants, by which it would appear that they are more saving of their money than is quite consistent with honesty.

He constantly received them on board, and said that sometimes, if they were very few, they would declare at the end of the trip that they had no money, although when detained they never failed to produce it; if they were very numerous they would attempt to fight their way without paying. In one instance, an Irishman declared that he had no money, when the captain, to punish him, seized his old jacket, and insisted upon retaining it for payment. The Irishman suffered it to be taken off, expecting, it is to be presumed, that it would be returned to him as valueless, when the captain jerked it overboard. "Oh! murder!— captain, drop the boat," cried Paddy; "pick my jacket up, or I'm a ruined man. All my money's in it." The jacket was fortunately picked up before it sank, and, on ripping it up, it was found to contain, sewed up in it, upwards of fifty sovereigns and gold eagles. The same captain narrated to me the particulars of one instance in which about one hundred Irish were on board, who when asked for payment, commenced an attack upon the captain and crew with their bludgeons; but, having before experienced such attempts, he was prepared for them, and receiving assistance from the shore, the Irishmen were worsted, and then every man paid his fare. The truth is that they are very turbulent, and the lower orders of the Americans are very much enraged against them. On the 4th of July there were several bodies of Americans, who were out on the look-out for the Irish, after dark, and many of the latter were severely beaten, if not murdered; the Irish, however, have to thank themselves for it.

The spirit of the institutions of the States is so opposed to servitude, that it is chiefly from the emigrants that the Americans obtain their supply of domestics; the men servants in the private houses may be said to be, with few exceptions, either emigrants or free people of colour. Amongst other points upon which the Americans are to be pitied, and for which the most perfect of theoretical governments could never compensate, is the misery and annoyance to which they are exposed from their domestics. They are absolutely slaves to them, especially in the western free States; there are no regulations to control them. At any fancied affront they leave the house without a moment's warning, putting on their hats or bonnets, and walking out of the street-door, leaving their masters and mistresses to get on how they can. I remember when I was staying with a gentleman in the west, that, on the first day of my arrival, he apologised to me for not having a man servant, the fellow having then been drunk for a week; a woman had been hired to help for a portion of the day, but most of the labour fell upon his wife, whom I found one morning cleaning my room. The fellow remained ten days drunk, and then (all his money being spent) sent to his master to say that he would come back on condition that he would give him a little more liquor. To this proposition the gentleman was compelled to assent, and the man returned as if he had conferred a favour. The next day, at dinner, there being no porter up, the lady said to her husband, "Don't send for it, but go yourself, my dear; he is so very cross again that I fear he will leave the house." A lady of my acquaintance in New York told her coachman that she should give him warning; the reply from the box was—"I reckon I have been too long in the woods to be scared with an owl." Had she noticed this insolence, he would probably have got down from the box, and have left her to drive her own cattle. The coloured servants are, generally speaking, the most civil; after them the Germans; the Irish and English are very bad. At the hotels, etcetera, you very often find Americans in subordinate situations, and it is remarkable that when they are so, they are much more civil than the imported servants. Few of the American servants, even in the large cities, understand their business, but it must be remembered that few of them have ever learnt it, and, moreover, they are expected to do three times as much as a servant would do in an English house. The American houses are much too large for the number of servants employed, which is another cause for service being so much disliked.

It is singular that I have not found in any one book, written by English, French, or German travellers, any remarks made upon a custom which the Americans have of almost entirely living, I may say, in the basement of their houses; and which is occasioned by their difficulties in housekeeping with their insufficient domestic establishments. I say custom of the Americans, as it is the case in nine houses out of ten; only the more wealthy travelled, and refined portion of the community in their cities deviating from the general practice.

I have before observed that, from the wish of display, the American houses are generally speaking, too large for the proprietors and for the domestics which are employed. Vying with each other in appearance, their receiving rooms are splendidly furnished, but they do not live in them.

The basement in the front area, which with us is usually appropriated to the housekeeper's-room and offices, is in most of their houses fitted up as a dining-room; by no means a bad plan, as it is cool in summer, warm in winter, and saves much trouble to the servants. The dinner is served up in it, direct from the kitchen, with which it communicates. The master of the house, unless he dines late, which is seldom the case in American cities, does not often come home to dinner, and the preparations for the family are of course not very troublesome. But although they go on very well in their daily routine, to give a dinner is to the majority of the Americans really an effort, not from the disinclination to give one, but from the indifference and ignorance of the servants; and they may be excused without being taxed with want of hospitality. It is a very common custom, therefore, for the Americans to invite you to come and "take wine" with them, that is to come after dinner, when you will find cakes, ices, wine, and company, already prepared. But there is something unpleasant in this arrangement; it is too much like the bar of the tavern in the west, with—"Stranger, will you drink?" It must, however, be recollected that there are many exceptions to what I have above stated as the general practice. There are houses in the principal cities of the States where you will sit down to as well-arranged and elegant a dinner as you will find in the best circles of London and Paris; but the proprietors are men of wealth, who have in all probability been on the old continent, and have imbibed a taste for luxury and refinement generally unknown and unfelt in the new hemisphere.

I once had an instance of what has been repeatedly observed by other travellers of the dislike to be considered as servants in this land of equality.

I was on board of a steam-boat from Detroit to Buffalo, and entered into conversation with a young woman who was leaning over the taffrail. She had been in service, and was returning home.

"You say you lived with Mr W.?"

"No, I didn't," replied she, rather tartly; "I said I lived with Mrs. W."

"Oh, I understand. In what situation did you live?"

"I lived in the house."

"Of course you did, but what as?"

"What as? As a gal should live."

"I mean what did you do?"

"I helped Mrs W."

"And now you are tired of helping others?"

"Guess I am."

"Who is your father?"

"He's a doctor."

"A doctor! and he allows you to go out?"

"He said I might please myself."

"Will he be pleased at your coming home again?"

"I went out to please myself, and I come home to please myself. Cost him nothing for four months; that's more than all gals can say."

"And now you're going home to spend your money?"

"Don't want to go home for that, it's all gone."

I have been much amused with the awkwardness and nonchalant manners of the servants in America. Two American ladies who had just returned from Europe, told me that shortly after their arrival at Boston, a young man had been sent to them from Vermont to do the duty of footman. He had been a day or two in the house, when they rang the bell and ordered him to bring up two glasses of lemonade. He made his appearance with the lemonade, which had been prepared and given to him on a tray by a female servant, but the ladies, who were sitting one at each end of a sofa and conversing, not being ready for it just then, said to him—"We'll take it presently, John."—"Guess I can wait," replied the man, deliberately taking his seat on the sofa between them, and placing the tray on his knees.

When I was at Tremont House, I was very intimate with a family who were staying there. One morning we had been pasting something, and the bell was rung by one of the daughters, a very fair girl with flaxen hair, who wanted some water to wash her hands. An Irish waiter answered the bell. "Did you ring, ma'am?"—"Yes, Peter, I want a little warm water."—"Is it to shave with, miss?" inquired Paddy, very gravely.

But the emigration from the old continent is of little importance compared to the migration which takes place in the country itself.

As I have before observed, all America is working west. In the north, the emigration by the lakes is calculated at 100,000 per annum, of which about 30,000, are foreigners; the others are the natives of New England and the other eastern States, who are exchanging from a sterile soil to one "flowing with milk and honey." But those who migrate are not all of them agriculturalists; the western States are supplied from the north-eastern with their merchants, doctors, schoolmasters, lawyers, and, I may add, with their members of congress, senators, and governors. New England is a school, a sort of manufactory of various professions, fitted for all purposes—a talent bazaar, where you have every thing at choice; in fact, what Mr Tocqueville says is very true, and the States fully deserve the compliment.

"The civilisation of New England has been like a beacon lit upon a hill, which, after it has diffused its warmth around, tinges the distant horizon with its glory."

From the great extent of this emigration to the west, it is said that the female population in the New England states is greater than the male. In the last returns of Massachusetts the total population was given, but males and females were not given separately, an omission which induces one to believe that such was the truth. [See note 3.]

But it is not only from the above States that the migration takes place; the fondness for "shifting right away," the eagerness for speculation, and the by no means exaggerated reports of the richness of the western country, induce many who are really well settled in the States of New York, Pennsylvania, and other fertile States, to sell all and turn to the west. The State of Ohio alone is supposed to have added many more than a million to her population since the last census. An extensive migration of white population takes place from North and South Carolina and the adjacent States, while from the eastern Slave States, there is one continual stream of black population pouring in, frequently the cavalcade headed by the masters of their families.

As the numerous tributary streams pour their waters into the Mississippi, so do rivers of men from every direction continually and unceasingly flow into the west. It is indeed the promised land, and that the whites should have been detained in the eastern States so long without a knowledge of the fertile soil beyond the Alleghanines, reminds you of the tarrying of the Jewish nation in the wilderness before they were permitted to take possession of their inheritance.

Here there is matter for deep reflection. I have already given my opinion upon the chances of the separation of the northern and Southern States upon the question of slavery; but it appears to me, that while the eyes of their legislators have been directed with so much interest to the prospects arising from the above question, that their backs have been turned to a danger much more imminent, and which may be attended by no less consequences than a convulsion of the whole Union.

The Southern and Northern States may separate on the question of slavery, and yet be in reality better friends than they were before: but what will be the consequence, when the Western States become, as they assuredly will, so populous and powerful, as to control the Union; for not only population, but power and wealth, are fast working their way to the west. New Orleans will be the first maritime port in the universe, and Cincinnati will not only be the Queen of the West, but Queen of the Western World. Then will come the real clashing of interests, and the Eastern States must be content to succumb and resign their present power, or the Western will throw them off, as an useless appendage to her might. This may at present appear chimerical to some, and would be considered by many others as too far distant; but be it remembered, that ten years in America, is as a century; and even allowing the prosperity of the United States to be checked, as very probably it may soon be, by any quarrel with a foreign nation, the Western States will not be those who will suffer. Far removed from strife, the population hardly interfered with, when the Eastern resources are draining, they will continue to advance in population, and to increase in wealth. I refer not to the Slave States bordering on the Mississippi, although I consider that they would suffer little from a war, as neither England, nor any other nation, will ever be so unwise in future as to attack in a quarter, where she would have extended the olive branch, even if it were not immediately accepted. Whether America is engaged in war, therefore, or remains in peace, the Western States must, and will soon be the arbiters, and dictate as they please to the Eastern.

At present, they may be considered as infants, not yet of age, and the Eastern States are their guardians; the profits of their produce are divided between them and the merchants of the Eastern cities, who receive at least thirty per cent. as their share. This must be the case at present, when the advances of the Eastern capitalists are required by the cotton growers, who are precisely in the same position with the Eastern States, as the West India planters used to be with the merchants of London and Liverpool, to whom they consigned their cargoes for advances received. But the Western States (to follow up the metaphor) will soon be of age, and no longer under control: even last year, vessels were freighted direct from England to Vicksburg, on the Mississippi; in a few years, there will be large importing houses in the Far West, who will have their goods direct from England at one half the price which they now pay for them, when forwarded from New York, by canal, and other conveyances. [See Note 4.] Indeed, a very little inquiry will prove, that the prosperity of the Eastern free States depends in a great measure upon the Western and Southern. The Eastern States are the receivers and transporters of goods, and the carriers of most of the produce of the Union. They advance money on the crops, and charge high interest, commissions, etcetera. The transport and travelling between the Eastern, Southern, and Western States, are one great source of this prosperity, from the employment on the canals, rail roads, and steam boats.

All these are heavy charges to the Western States, and can be avoided by shipping direct from, and sending their produce direct to, the Old Continent. As the Western States advance in wealth, so will they advance in power, and in proportion as they so do, will the Eastern States recede, until they will be left in a small minority, and will eventually have little voice in the Union.

Here, then, is a risk of convulsion; for the clashing of interests, next to a war, is the greatest danger to which a democracy can be exposed. In a democracy, every one legislates, and every one legislates for his own interests. The Eastern States will still be wealthy and formidable, from their population; but the commerce of the principal Eastern cities will decrease, and they will have little or no staple produce to return to England, or elsewhere, whereas the Western States can produce every thing that the heart of man can desire, and can be wholly independent of them. They have, in the West, every variety of coal and mineral, to a boundless extent; a rich alluvial soil, hardly to be exhausted by bad cultivation, and wonderful facilities of transport; independent of the staple produce of cotton, they might supply the whole world with grain; sugar they already cultivate; the olive flourishes; wine is already produced on the banks of the Ohio, and the prospect of raising silk is beyond calculation. In a few days, the manufactures of the Old World can find their way from the mouth of the Mississippi by its thousand tributary streams, which run like veins through every portion of the country, to the confines of Arkansas and Missouri, to the head of navigation at St Peter's, on again to Wisconsin, Michigan, and to the Northern lakes, at a much cheaper rate than they are supplied at present.

One really is lost in admiration when one surveys this great and glorious Western country, and contemplates the splendour and riches to which it must ultimately arrive.

As soon as the Eastern States are no longer permitted to remain the factors of the Western, they must be content to become manufacturing states, and probably will compete with England. The Western States, providentially, I may say, are not likely to be manufacturers to any great extent, since they have not water powers; the valley of the Mississippi is an alluvial flat, and although the Missouri and Mississippi are swift streams, in general the rivers are sluggish, and, at all events, they have not the precipitate falls of water necessary for machinery, and which abound in the North-eastern States; indeed, if the Western States were to attempt to manufacture, as well as to produce, they would spoil the market for their own produce. Whatever may be the result, whether the Eastern States submit quietly to be shorn of their greatness, (a change which must take place,) or to contest the point until it ends in a separation, this is certain, that the focus of American wealth and power will eventually be firmly established in the Free States on the other side of the Alleghany mountains.

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Note 1. I was once conversing with one who was formerly very popular with the democrats, but who was likely to be outset by another demagogue, who "went the whole hog," down to the Agrarian system. "Captain," said he, with his fist clenched, "I'm the very personification of democracy, but I'm out-Heroded by this fellow. The emigrants are a pack of visionaries, who don't know what they want. The born Americans I can deal with, but with these newcomers democracy is not sufficient; they want a mobocracy, and I suppose we must have it."—"You have it now," replied I.—"Well, captain, I believe you're right."

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Note 2. I don't know why, but there is no scrutiny of the votes in American elections, or if there be, I never heard of one being made.

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Note 3. "The young men of New England migrate in large numbers to the west, leaving an over proportion of female population, the amount of which I never could learn. Statements were made to me, but so incredible that I withhold them. Suffice it, that there were more women than men in from six to nine States in the Union."—Miss Martineau.

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Note 4. To give the reader some idea of the price of European articles in the Western country, I will mention cloth. A coat which costs 4 pounds in England, is charged 7 pounds 10 shillings at New York; and at Cincinnati, in the West, upwards of 10 pounds.



VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER SIX.

NEWSPAPER PRESS.

Mr Tocqueville observes, "that not a single individual of the twelve millions who inhabit the territory of the United States has as yet dared to propose any restrictions upon the liberty of the press." This is true, and all the respectable Americans acknowledge that this liberty has degenerated into a licentiousness which threatens the most alarming results; as it has assumed a power, which awes not only individuals, but the government itself. A due liberty allowed to the press, may force a government to do right, but a licentiousness may compel it into error. The American author, Mr Cooper, very justly remarks: "It may be taken as a rule, that without the liberty of the press there can be no popular liberty in a nation, and without its licentiousness, neither public honesty, justice, or a proper regard for character. Of the two, perhaps, that people is the happiest which is deprived altogether of a free press, as private honesty and a healthful tone of the public mind are not incompatible with narrow institutions, though neither can exist under the corrupting action of a licentiousness press."

And again—"As the press of this country now exists, it would seem to be expressly devised by the great agent of mischief, to depress and destroy all that is good, and to elevate and advance all that is evil in the nation. The little truth which is urged, is usually urged coarsely, weakened and rendered vicious by personalities, while those who live by falsehoods, fallacies, enmities, partialities, and the schemes of the designing, find the press the very instrument that devils would invent to effect their designs."

A witty, but unprincipled statesman of our own times, has said, that "speech was bestowed on man to conceal his thoughts;" judging from its present condition, he might have added—"the press, in America, to pervert truth."

But were I to quote the volumes of authority from American and English writers, they would tire the reader. The above are for the present quite sufficient to establish the fact, that the press in the United States is licentious to the highest possible degree, and defies control; my object is to point out the effect of this despotism upon society, and to show how injurious it is in every way to the cause of morality and virtue.

Of course, the newspaper press is the most mischievous, in consequence of its daily circulation, the violence of political animosity, and the want of respectability in a large proportion of the editors. The number of papers published and circulated in Great Britain, among a population of twenty-six millions, is calculated at about three hundred and seventy. The number published in the United States, among thirteen millions, are supposed to vary between nine and ten thousand. Now the value of newspapers may be fairly calculated by the capital expended upon them; and not only is not one-quarter of the sum expended in England, upon three hundred and seventy newspapers, expended upon the nine or ten thousand in America; but I really believe that the expense of the 'Times' newspaper alone, is equal to at least five thousand of the minor papers in the United States, which are edited by people of no literary pretension, and at an expense so trifling as would appear to us not only ridiculous, but impossible. As to the capabilities of the majority of the editors, let the Americans speak for themselves.

"Every wretch who can write an English paragraph (and many who cannot,) every pettifogger without practice, every one whose poverty or crimes have just left him cash or credit enough to procure a press and types, sets up a newspaper."

Again—"If you be puzzled what to do with your son, if he be a born dunce, if reading and writing be all the accomplishments he can acquire, if he be horribly ignorant and depraved, if he be indolent and an incorrigible liar, lost to all shame and decency, and incurably dishonest, make a newspaper editor of him. Look around you, and see a thousand successful proofs that no excellence or acquirement, moral or intellectual, is requisite to conduct a press. The more defective an editor is, the better he succeeds. We could give a thousand instances."—Boston News.

These are the assertions of the Americans, not my own; that in many instances they are true, I have no doubt. In a country so chequered as the United States, such must be expected; but I can also assert, that there are many very highly respectable and clever editors in the United States. The New York papers are most of them very well conducted, and very well written. The New York Courier and Enquirer, Colonel Webb; the Evening Star, by Noah; the Albion, by Doctor Birtlett; Spirit of the Times, and many others, which are too numerous to quote, are equal to many of the English newspapers. The best written paper in the States, and the happiest in its sarcasm and wit, is the Louisville Gazette, conducted by Mr Prentice of Kentucky; indeed, the western papers, are, generally speaking, more amusing and witty than the eastern; the New Orleans Picayune, by Kendall, is perhaps, after Prentice's, the most amusing; but there are many more, which are too numerous to mention, which do great credit to American talent. Still the majority are disgraceful not only from their vulgarity, but from their odious personalities and disregard to truth. The bombast and ignorance shown in some of these is very amusing. Here is an extract or two from the small newspapers published in the less populous countries. An editor down East, speaking of his own merits, thus concludes—"I'm a real catastrophe—a small creation; Mount Vesuvius at the top, with red hot lava pouring out of the crater, and routing nations—my fists are rocky mountains—arms, whig liberty poles, with iron springs. Every step I take is an earthquake—every blow I strike is a clap of thunder—and every breath I breathe is a tornado. My disposition is Dupont's best, and goes off at a flash—when I blast there'll be nothing left but a hole three feet in circumference and no end to its depth."

Another writes the account of a storm as follows:—

"On Monday afternoon, while the haymakers were all out gathering in the hay, in anticipation of a shower from the small cloud that was seen hanging over the hilly regions towards the south-east, a tremendous storm suddenly burst upon them, and forced them to seek shelter from its violence. The wind whistled outrageously through the old elms, scattering the beautiful foliage, and then going down into the meadow, where the men had just abruptly left their work unfinished, and overturning the half-made ricks, whisked them into the air, and filled the whole afternoon full of hay."

I copied the following from a western paper:—

"Yes, my countrymen, a dawn begins to open upon us; the crepusculous rays of returning republicanism are fast extending over the darkness of our political horizon, and before their brightness, those myrmidons shall slink away to the abode of the demons who have generated them, in the hollow caves of darkness."

Again—"Many who have acquired great fame and celebrity in the world, began their career as printers. Sir William Blackstone, the learned English commentator of laws, was a printer by trade. King Charles the Third was a printer, and not unfrequently worked at the trade after he ascended the throne of England."

Who Charles the Third of England was I do not know, as he is not yet mentioned in any of our histories.

The most remarkable newspaper for its obscenity, and total disregard for all decency and truth in its personal attacks, is the Morning Herald of New York, published by a person of the name of Bennett, and being published in so large a city, it affords a convincing proof with what impunity the most licentious attacks upon private characters are permitted. But Mr Bennett is sui generis; and demands particular notice. He is indeed a remarkable man, a species of philosopher, who acts up to his tenets with a moral courage not often to be met with in the United States. His maxim appears to be this—"Money will find me every thing in this world, and money I will have, at any risk, except that of my life, as, if I lost that, the money would be useless." Acting upon this creed, he has lent his paper to the basest and most malignant purposes, to the hatred of all that is respectable and good, defaming and inventing lies against every honest man, attacking the peace and happiness of private families by the most injurious and base calumny. As may be supposed, he has been horse-whipped, kicked, trodden under foot, and spat upon, and degraded in every possible way; but all this he courts, because it brings money. Horse-whip him, and he will bend his back to the lash, and thank you, as every blow is worth so many dollars. Kick him, and he will remove his coat tails, that you may have a better mark, and he courts the application of the toe, while he counts the total of the damages which he may obtain. Spit upon him, and he prizes it as precious ointment, for it brings him the sovereign remedy for his disease, a fever for specie.

The day after the punishment, he publishes a full and particular account of how many kicks, tweaks of the nose, or lashes he may have received. He prostitutes his pen, his talent, every thing for money. His glory is, that he has passed the rubicon of shame; and all he regrets is, that the public is at last coming to the unanimous opinion, that he is too contemptible, too degraded, to be even touched. The other, and more respectable editors of newspapers, avoid him, on account of the filth which he pours forth; like a polecat, he may be hunted down; but no dog will ever attempt to worry him, as soon as he pours out the contents of his foetid bag.

It is a convincing proof of the ardent love of defamation in this country, that this modern Thersites, who throws the former of that name so immeasurably into the background, has still great sway over men in office; every one almost, who has a character, is afraid of him, and will purchase his silence, if they cannot his good will.

During the crash at New York, when even the suspicion of insolvency was fatal, this miscreant published some of the most respectable persons of New York as bankrupts, and yet received no punishment. His paper is clever, that is certain; but I very much doubt if Bennett is the clever man—and my reason is this, Bennett was for some time in England, and during that time the paper, so far from falling off, was better written than before. I myself, before I had been six weeks in the country, was attacked by this wretch, and, at the same time, the paper was sent to me with this small note on the margin:—"Send twenty dollars, and it shall be stopped."—"I only wish you may get it," said I to myself. [See Note 1.]

Captain Hamilton, speaking of the newspaper press in America, says—

"In order to form a fair estimate of their merit, I read newspapers from all parts of the union, and found them utterly contemptible, in point of talent, and dealing in abuse so virulent, as to excite a feeling of disgust,—not only with the writers, but with the public which afforded them support. Tried by this standard—and I know not how it can be objected to—the moral feeling of this people must be estimated lower than in any deductions from other circumstances I have ventured to rate it."

In the following remarks, also, I most cordially agree with him. "Our newspaper and periodical press is bad enough. Its sins against propriety cannot be justified, and ought not to be defended. But its violence is meekness, its liberty restraint, and even its atrocities are virtues, when compared with that system of brutal and ferocious outrage which distinguishes the press in America. In England, even an insinuation against personal honour is intolerable. A hint—a breath— the contemplation even of a possibility of tarnish—such things are sufficient to poison the tranquillity, and, unless met by prompt vindication, to ruin the character of a public man; but in America, it is thought necessary to have recourse to other weapons. The strongest epithets of a ruffian vocabulary are put in requisition."

It may be asked, how is it possible that an "enlightened nation" can permit such atrocity. It must be remembered, that newspapers are vended at a very low price throughout the States, and that the support of the major portion of them is derived from the ignorant and lower classes. Every man in America reads his newspaper, and hardly any thing else; and while he considers that he is assisting to govern the nation, he is in fact, the dupe of those who pull the strings in secret, and by flattering his vanity, and exciting his worst feelings, make him a poor tool in their hands. People are too apt to imagine that the newspapers echo their own feelings; when the fact is, that by taking in a paper, which upholds certain opinions, the readers are, by daily repetition, become so impressed with these opinions, that they have become slaves to them. I have before observed, that learning to read and write is not education, and but too often is the occasion of the demoralisation of those, who might have been more virtuous and more happy in their ignorance. The other day when I was in a steam-vessel, going down to Gravesend, I observed a foot-boy sitting on one of the benches—he was probably ten or eleven years old, and was deeply engaged in reading a cheap periodical, mostly confined to the lower orders of this country called the Penny Paul Pry. Surely it had been a blessing to the lad, if he had never learnt to read or write, if he confined his studies, as probably too many do, from want of farther leisure, to such an immoral and disgusting publication.

In a country where every man is a politician, and flatters himself that he is assisting to govern the country, political animosities must of course be carried to the greatest lengths, and the press is the vehicle for party violence; but Captain Hamilton's remarks are so forcible, and so correct, that I prefer them to any I could make myself.

"The opponents of a candidate for office, are generally not content with denouncing his principles, or deducing from the tenor of his political life, grounds for questioning the purity of his motives. They accuse him boldly of burglary or arson, or at the very least, of petty larceny. Time, place and circumstances, are all stated. The candidate for Congress or the Presidency, is broadly asserted to have picked pockets, or pocketed silver spoons, or to have been guilty of something equally mean and contemptible. Two instances of this, occur at this moment to my memory. In one newspaper, a member of Congress was denounced as having feloniously broken open a scrutoire, and having thence stolen certain bills and banknotes; another was charged with selling franks at twopence a piece, and thus coppering his pockets at the expense of the public."

But let me add the authority of Americans. Mr Webster, in his celebrated speech on the public lands, observes in that powerful and nervous language for which he is so celebrated:—"It is one of the thousand calumnies with which the press teemed, during an excited political canvass. It was a charge, of which there was not only no proof or probability, but which was, in itself, wholly impossible to be true. No man of common information ever believed a syllable of it. Yet it was of that class of falsehoods, which by continued repetition, through all the organs of detraction and abuse, are capable of misleading those who are already far misled, and of farther fanning passion, already kindled into flame. Doubtless, it served in its day, and, in greater or less degree, the end designed by it. Having done that, it has sunk into the general mass of stale and loathed calumnies. It is the very cast-off slough of a polluted and shameless press." And Mr Cooper observes—"Every honest man appears to admit that the press in America is fast getting to be intolerable. In escaping from the tyranny of foreign aristocrats, we have created in our bosoms a tyranny of a character so insupportable, that a change of some sort is getting indispensable to peace."

Indeed, the spirit of defamation, so rife in America, is so intimately connected with its principal channel, the press, that it is impossible to mention one, without the other, and I shall, therefore, at once enter into the question.

Defamation is the greatest curse in the United States, and its effects upon society I shall presently point out. It appears to be inseparable from a democratic form of government, and must continue to flourish in it, until it pleases the Supreme to change the hearts of men. When Aristides inquired of the countryman, who requested him to write down his own name on the oyster-shell, what cause of complaint he had against Aristides; the reply given was, "I have none; except, that I do not like to hear him always called the Just." So it is with the free and enlightened citizens of America. Let any man rise above his fellows by superior talent, let him hold a consistent, honest career, and he is exalted only into a pillory, to be pelted at, and be defiled with ordure. False accusations, the basest insinuations, are industriously circulated, his public and private character are equally aspersed, truth is wholly disregarded: even those who have assisted to raise him to his pedestal, as soon as they perceive that he has risen too high above them, are equally industrious and eager to drag him down again. Defamation exists all over the world, but it is incredible to what an extent this vice is carried in America. It is a disease which pervades the land; which renders every man suspicious and cautious of his neighbour, creates eye-service and hypocrisy, fosters the bitterest and most malignant passions, and unceasingly irritates the morbid sensibility, so remarkable among all classes of the American people.

Captain Hamilton, speaking of the political contests, says, "From one extremity of the Union to the other, the political war slogan is sounded. No quarter is given on either side; every printing press in the United States is engaged in the conflict. Reason, justice, and charity; the claims of age and of past services, of high talents and unspotted integrity, are forgotten. No lie is too malignant to be employed in this unhallowed contest, if it can but serve the purpose of deluding, even for a moment, the most ignorant of mankind. No insinuation is too base, no equivocation too mean, no artifice too paltry. The world affords no parallel to the scene of political depravity exhibited periodically in this free country."

Governor Clinton, in his address to the legislature in 1828, says—"Party spirit has entered the recesses of retirement, violated the sanctity of female character, invaded the tranquillity of private life, and visited with severe inflictions the peace of families. Neither elevation nor humility has been spared, nor the charities of life, nor distinguished public services,—nor the fire-side, nor the altar, been left free from attack; but a licentious and destroying spirit has gone forth, regardless of everything, but the gratification of malignant feelings and unworthy aspirations." And in the New York Annual Register, quoted by Captain Hamilton, we have the following remarks: "In conducting the political discussions which followed the adjournment of Congress, both truth and propriety were set at defiance. The decencies of private life were disregarded; conversations and correspondence which should have been confidential, were brought before the public eye; the ruthless warfare was carried into the bosom of private life; neither age nor sex were spared, the daily press teemed with ribaldry and falsehood; and even the tomb was not held sacred from the rancorous hostility which distinguished the presidential election of 1828."

I have considered it necessary thus to heap authority upon authority, as the subject is one of the most vital importance; and I must first prove the extent of this vice, without the chance of the shadow of contradiction, before I point out its fatal consequences.

That the political animosities arising from a free and enlightened people governing themselves, have principally engendered and fostered this vice, is most certain; and it would be some satisfaction, if, after the hostile feelings had subsided, the hydra also sank to repose.

But this cannot be the case. A vice, like detraction, so congenial to our imperfect natures, is not to be confined to one channel, and only resorted to, as a political weapon, when required. It is a vice which when once called into action, and unchecked by the fear of punishment or shame, must exist and be fed. It becomes a confirmed habit, and the effect upon society is dreadful. If it cannot aim its shafts at those who are in high places, if there is no noble quarry for its weapons, it will seek its food amongst smaller game, for it never tires. The consequence is, that it pervades and feeds upon society—private life is embittered; and, as Mr Cooper most justly observes, "rendering men indifferent to character, and indeed rendering character of little avail."