his friend Wardour of Philadelphia, had called, and was at the stage-house. On his return home to dinner he soon came down to me and said I should accompany him to pot-luck. I did so. The sight of an English face was mutually refreshing, and a sufficient introduction to each other. Mr Lidiard scarcely knows what induced him to emigrate, having a fortune enabling him. self and family to live in ease anywhere. "One thing, however, which weighed with me, was the probability of seeing my children well married in America. I must, however, complain much of American roguery. Hardly anybody cares about poor honesty and punctuality. If a man can, or is disposed to pay, he pays; if not so disposed, or not able, he smiles, tells you to your face, he shall not pay. I saw an execution defeated lately by that boasted spirit, which they call liberty, or independence. The property, under execution, was put up to the sale, when the eldest son appeared with a huge Herculean club, and said, Gentlemen, you may bid for and buy these bricks and things, which were my father's, but, by God, no man living shall come on to this ground with horse and cart to fetch them away. The land is mine, and if the buyer takes anything away, it shall be on his back.' The father had transferred the land, and all on it, to the son, in order to cheat the law. Nobody was, therefore, found to bid or buy. I, therefore,' continues Mr L., decline all transactions with Americans, it being impossible with safety to buy or sell anything of importance under their present paper system. I keep my money in the funds. Housekeeping is very cheap; 100lbs. of fine flour costs only two dollars; a fine fat sheep, two dollars; beef equally cheap, three or four cents, twopence per pound, the hide and tallow being thought the most valuable; one dozen of fat fowls from three quarters to one dollar. Land here gives a man no importance; store-keepers and clerks rank much above farmers, who are never seen in genteel parties and circles. Yet, here is the finest arable and pasture land in the known world, on which grass, the most luxuriant, is seen rotting for want of cattle. Just kill a few of the large trees where there is no underwood, and you have a beautiful clover-field and other grass intermixed, as ever art elsewhere produced. There is no laying down here; it is all done by nature as if by magic. The land is full of all useful grass seeds, which only want sun and air to call them into a smothering superabundance. But what is land, however rich, without population to cultivate it, or a market to consume its produce, which is here bought much under what either I or you could raise it for. Farmers are consequently men of no importance. They live, it is true, and will always live, but I much

doubt if ever the important English farmer could be satisfied with such living and farming. I feel great difficulty in advising any friends on the subject of emigration. I mean to wait two years longer before I do it. Liberty and independence, of which you and I thought so much and so highly, while on the other side of the Atlantic, sink and fade in value on a nearer view. Nobody here properly appreciates, but almost all abuse, this boasted liberty. Liberty here means, to do each as he pleases; to care for nothing and nobody, and cheat everybody. If I buy an estate, and advance money before I get a title, it is ten to one but I lose it, and never get a title that is worth having. My garden cost me, this summer only, 50 dollars, and all the produce was stolen by boys and young men, who professed to think they had the libertyto do so. If you complain to their friends and superiors, the answer is, 'Oh, it is only a boyish trick, not worth notice.' And again, I tell the gentlemen, that if I wished to be social and get drunk with them, I dare not; for they would take the liberty to scratch me like a tiger, and gouge, and dirk me. I cannot part with my nose and eyes. The friendly equality and intercourse, however, which can be had with all ranks and grades, and the impossibili ty of coming to absolute poverty, are the finest features of this country. You are going to Birkbeck's settlement?' I am, sir.' I visited both Birkbeck and Flower in June last. Birkbeck is a fine man, in a bad cause. He was worth about 10,000%. sterling, but has deceived himself and others. Both his and Flower's settlement (which are all one), is all a humbug. They are all in the mire, and cannot get out; and they, therefore, by all manner of means and arts, endeavour to make the best of it. Birkbeck tells me, the reason why he does not cultivate his land is, because he can buy produce cheaper at Harmony, much cheaper than he can raise it, although its price is double what I am giving at Lexington market. The Harmonites all work, and pay nothing for labour. Mr Birkbeck, in June last, was the proprietor of 10,000 acres, and forfeited his first deposit, ten cents an acre, on 30,000 acres, which prove to be, as is his settlement generally, the worst land in Illinois. Nobody now cares to buy of, or settle down, with either him or Flower. I like Flower the least; I would prefer Birkbeck for a neighbour, dressed up, as he is, in a little mean chip hat, and coarse domestic clothes from Harmony, living in a little log-house, smoking segars, and drinking bad whisky, just as I found him, rough as he was. Mr G. Flower is inducing mechanics to come from all parts to settle, although there is no employment for them, nor any market now, nor in future, at New Orleans, or

elsewhere, for produce, unless a war comes, which may require America to supply other nations in want. Sometimes I think Birk

beck is right. But still I think that both he and Flower will get rid of all their dollars, and never raise more; dollars and they will part for ever. They will live, but not as they did, and might have lived, in England or in the Eastern States. Labour costs more than double what it does in the east. The west is fit only for poor men, who are the only proper pioneers of the wilderness. I do not believe that land will improve in value, but that much money will be wasted in improvements. Slavery, sir, is not so bad as we thought it to be, provided the slaves are not hired out like pack-horses, but kept by their own proper owners. They would then be gentlemen-servants. You know that we never prize a pack-horse, nor treat it so kindly as one of our own.""

"The American, considered as an animal, is filthy, bordering on the beastly; as a man, he seems a being of superior capabilities; his attention to his teeth, which are generally very white, is a fine excep tion to his general habits. All his vices and imperfections seem natural; those of the semi-barbarian."

Here is another amiable family pic

ture.

"To his honour Judge Chambers's to breakfast. His log-tavern is comfortable; he farms two and a half quarter sections, and raises from 40 to 60 bushels of corn an acre. Nearly all the good land on this road is entered. I had,' says he, hard work for the first two or three years.' The judge is a smart man of about 40, and not only a judge, but a senator also, and what is more, the best horse-jockey in the state. He seems very active, prudent, cautious, and industrious, and, like all the rest of the people on this road, kind-hearted. He fills the twofold station of waiter and ostler in part; I say in part, for, as he has no servant, the drudgery must be done by the traveller himself, if he have a horse or horses. His honour left my driver to do all, and hastily rode off to a distant mill for his grist, now much wanted, and with which he returned in about two hours, while her honour, Mrs Judge, and the six Miss Judges, prepared my good breakfast. These ladies do all the work of the house, and some of the field; everything seems comfortable and easy to them, although the blue sky and the broad sun stare and peep through cracks and crevices in the roof of their house. While I sat at breakfast, his honour's mother, a fine smart young woman of fourscore, came briskly riding up, and alighted at the door; as good a horsewoman as ever mounted a side-saddle. She had been to pay a distant visit, and seemed as though her strength and youth were renewed, like the eagle's. She reminded

me of Moses, with his eye not dim, nor his natural force abated.'"

Twofold character indeed, Mr Faux ! judge, senator, tavern keeper, farmer, hostler, horse-jockey, and waiter, all one! Call ye this Twofold?

Another Judge! a Daniel come to Judgement !"'

"I had a long and interesting conversation with a young lawyer, the supreme Judge Hart, living in this town, but proscribed and suspended for sending a challenge to three agents of his estates in Kentucky, who, after injuring him, caricatured him, and then refused to fight."

"The Supreme Judge, Hart, is a gay young man of twenty-five, full of wit and humorous eloquence, mixing with all companies at this tavern, where he seems neither above nor below any, dressed in an old white beaver hat, coarse threadbare coat and trowsers of the same cloth (domestic,) and yellow striped waiscoat, with his coat out at the elbows; yet very cleanly in his person, and refined in his language. What can be the inducement for a young man, like him, equal to all things, to live thus, and here ?"

Yet one more judicial sketch.

"Judge Waggoner, who was a notorious hog-stealer, was recently accused, while sitting on the bench, by Major Hooker, the hunter, gouger, whipper, and nose-biter, of stealing many hogs, and being, although a judge, the greatest rogue in the United States. This was the Major's answer to the question Guilty, or Not Guilty, on an indictment presented against him. The court laughed, and the Judge raved, and bade Hooker go out and he would fight him. The Major agreed, but said, Judge, you shall go six miles into the woods, and the longest liver shall come back to tell his tale!' The Judge would not go. The Major was now, in his turn, much enraged by the Judge ordering him into court to pay a fine of ten dollars for some former offence, the present indictment being suffered to drop."

"Judge Waggoner recently shook hands at a whisky shop, with a man coming be fore him that day, to be tried for murder. He drank his health, and wished him well through.

"A pigeon roost is a singular sight in thinly settled states, particularly in Tenessee in the fall of the year, when the roost extends over either a portion of woodland or barrens, from four to six miles in circumference. The screaming noise they make when thus roosting is heard at a distance of six miles; and when the beechnuts are ripe, they fly 200 miles to dinner, in immense flocks, hiding the sun and darkening the air like a thick passing cloud. They thus travel 400 miles daily. They roost on the high forest trees, which they

cover in the same manner as bees in swarms cover a bush, being piled one on the other, from the lowest to the topmost boughs, which so laden, are seen continually bending and falling with their crashing weight, and presenting a scene of confusion and destruction, too strange to describe, and too dangerous to be approached by either man or beast. While the living birds are gone to their distant dinner, it is common for man and animals to gather up or devour the dead, then found in cart-loads. When the roost is among the saplings, on which the pigeons alight without breaking them down, only bending them to the ground, the selfslaughter is not so great; and at night, men, with lanterns and poles, approach and beat them to death without much personal danger. But the grand mode of taking them is by setting fire to the high dead grass, leaves, and shrubs underneath, in a wide blazing circle, fired at different parts, at the same time, so as soon to meet. Then down rush the pigeons in immense numbers, and indescribable confusion, to be roasted alive, and gathered up dead next day from heaps two feet deep."

"The term elegant is nowhere so little understood as in this country. One of Mr Birkbeck's neighbours' sons falling sick, the father applied to Mr B.'s chest for medicine, and received it. Mr B. next morning said to the father, Well, sir, how did the medicine operate ?'- Oh, sir, elegantly,' was the reply."

The following incident occurs at Philadelphia.

"At night, I went into the black church,

where the black minister shewed much uncultivated talent After sermon they be gan singing merrily, and continued, without stopping, one hour, till they became exhausted and breathless-Oh! come to Zion, come!' Hallelujah,' &c. And then, O won't you have my lovely bleeding Jasus,' a thousand times repeated in full thundering chorus to the tune of Fol de rol.' While all the time they were clapping hands, shouting, and jumping, and exclaiming, Ah Lord! Good Lord! Give me Jasus; Amen.' At half past ten this meeting broke up. For an hour it seemed like Bedlam let loose. At the close, one female said, striking the breasts of two male friends, We had a happy time of it.""

"A common hot day at Washington.— The wind southerly, like the breath of an oven; the thermometer vacillating between 90 and 100; the sky blue and cloudless; the sun shedding a blazing light; the face of the land, and everything upon it, save trees, withered, dusty, baked, and continually heated, insomuch that water would almost hiss on it; the atmosphere swarming with noxious insects, flies, bugs, mos quitoes, and grasshoppers, and withal so

drying, 'that all animal and vegetable life is exposed to a continual process of exhaustion. The breezes, if any, are perfumed by nuisances of all sorts, emptied into the streets, rotting carcases, and the exhalations of dismal swamps, made vocal and alive with toads, lizards, and bellowing bullfrogs. Few people are stirring, except negroes; all faces, save those of blacks, pale, languid, and lengthened with lassitude, expressive of anything but ease and happiness. Now and then an emigrant or two fall dead at the cold spring, or fountain; others are lying on the floor, flat on their backs; all, whether idle or employed, are comfortless, being in an everlasting steambath, and feeling offensive to themselves and others. At table, pleased with nothing, because both vegetable and animal food is generally withered, toughened, and tainted, the beverage, tea or coffee, contains dead flies; the beds and bed-rooms, at night, present a smothering unaltering warmth, the walls being thoroughly heated, and being withinside like the outside of an oven in continual use. Hard is the lot of him who bears the heat and burthen of this day, and pitiable the fate of the poor emigrant, sighing in vain for comforts, cool breezes, wholesome diet, and the old friends of his native land. At midnight, the lightning-bugs and bull-frogs become luminous and melodious. The flies seem an Egyptian plague, and get mortised into the oily butter, which holds them like bird-lime."

Ohe jam satis !-Nobody will suppose that we have been quoting these things with any other view than that of amusing our readers with this modern Socrates, and the amiable manner in which he has played the part of his own Xenophon. At the same time, we have no reason to suppose, that Socrates tells anything but what he believes to be the truth, and his anecdotes certainly body forth the form and pressure of most strange and picturesque modes of human existence.

The result of his researches seems to be exactly the same with that which "Cobbett's Year's Residence in America" points to. He has seen the Birkbecks and the Flowers, &c. &c. all cleaning their own shoes, and washing their own potatoes, for the want of servants-he has seen English damsels, who used to finger the piano-forte at home, skinning pigs, and undressing themselves and sleeping in the same room with both men and pigs-he is satisfied that all the Prairie gentry, who have any money, are losing that as fast as possible, along with every other good thing they brought with them from the regions of civilization, We

have not quoted from this part of his book, however; for, in the first place, we believe the public is quite satis fied as to the subject of which it treats, and as for the garnish of Mr William Faux, we really cannot imagine that any one feels much desire to be informed about the family sparrings and jarrings of the Flowers and the Birkbecks, the amours of young Flower and Miss Andrews the governess, or even the airs of Biddy the chamber maid, with the whole method and mystery of her exemplary humiliation.

Of course, there is nothing whatever in this book concerning what we might have been most anxious to receive some information about-viz. the present condition of literature, in the United States of America. This was a matter entirely out of our friend's way and we do not mean to say, that if he had touched thereupon, we should have thanked him.

We wish very sincerely, however, that some American scholar would write something like a sketch of what has been, and is going on. Their Reviews, &c. seldom or never travel so far as this; and when a stray number does find its way, it is sure to be, threeparts out of four, occupied with English books of the preceding year, which are either perfectly well known to everybody here, or irremediably forgotten. Why have they no journal exclusively their own-their own in subject, as well as in execution ?-as much their own, for example, as our English journals are English?

66

We see but few of their books either. A life of James Otis" was lately put into our hands, and we expected much entertainment from the history of one of the great men of the Revolution. We were sadly disappointed. It is such a book as a young Irish student fresh from Trinity might be supposed to write about Emmett-for we will not mention Curran-a mere piece of boyish drivelling-nay, worse of worst extended," of boyish book-making. "Letters on the Eastern States," seemed to us to be another very mediocre affair; and as for "The Idle Man," "Koningmarke, the Long Finne," and all the other endless imitations of the Sketchbook, and Knickerbocker, they are to us utterly unmeaning imbecility. The only tolerable attempt in the poetical way that we have happened VOL. XIV.

to meet with, is a very little book entitled "Percy's Masque,”—and it is much more than tolerable. It is really, if the author be a very young man, a most promising Essay. There is an elegance of language, which shews perfect and intelligent familiarity with our models of the best age; and there is a certain elegance of thought and conception, which renders us even more anxious to be informed of the posterior proceedings of the author. Two different editions of our Magazine, by the way, are published every month within the United States: and one of them at least beats the original hollow, in the weighty matters of paper, ink, and typographical execution, as well maybe, where there is neither the hurry, nor the expense of authorship. Would it be too much for one or both of the publishers who are thus thriving upon our exertions, to make some return now and then in the shape of a parcel of American books? We throw out the hint, not doubting that our good friends will take it in good part; and we shall certainly be disap pointed if it meets with no attention at their hands.

Since we are talking of such matters, there is a notion that has long been in our heads, and we shall take this opportunity of mentioning it—assuredly not with any views, or the possibility of

them, as to ourselves. We regard the Americans-how could we do otherwise?-as immeasurably nearer to us than any other people in the world; and in spite of all jealousies and prejudices, the two nations must continue kindred as long as they speak the same tongue. Now, although we are living under different governments, we really can see no good reason why that circumstance should at all affect the literature which is, and ever must be, the common food of both. In the last age, English authors had no remedy when their books were pirated in Ireland-that has been corrected-it was corrected long before the Union. Why, merely because the Americans have President Munroe, and we stick to King George, should the author who writes equally for England and America, (as all authors who write in the common language must do,) why should he be paid for his writings only by one half of his readers? This is not fair in itself; and the doing away with such a thing, would tend, we suspect, 4 C