by the quiet beauty of the scene which burst upon their view in that turn in the road which wound round into the village. Embosomed in trees, the white smoke curling from the chimneys of the cottages, and lazily dispersing, seemed an emblem of the care-free life of the honest villagers. For of the carking cares of towns they knew nothing. They worked at their callings as their fathers had done before them, and as they intended that their children should work after them; no harassing ambition deprived them of their simple comforts; no fastidious tastes took away their appetites from their homely but wholesome fare; no vain and aspiring dreams disturbed their sound, labour-sweetened rest. A large old house with a verandah, hiding behind some stately poplars, looked up the turnpike-road; this was the residence of the doctor, and had the merit of affording its inmates the earliest views of travellers approaching from London; and at this point the road swept suddenly round to the left, and brought them into the centre of one of the prettiest villages in England. They were in the heart and centre of it at once, and in front of the Red Lion Inn, an old-fashioned, porched, and gabled house with corridors, in which you might lose yourself from their intricacy, and rooms in which you might do the same from their size. Barton must have been a place of importance in olden times, measured by its inn, which now bore venerable testimony to what it had been in bygone days. But now a waggon or two, or a solitary farmer's gig, was quite a bustle and a sensation at the inn, and the ostler was shouted for till the landlord was hoarse; and startled from his slumbers in the taproom if a horse or vehicle pulled up at the door. The few tradesmen of the village used to drop in at about eleven or twelve in the morning, and take their pre-prandial drops before the bar; and came again in the evening, dressed and divested of their aprons and paper caps, to smoke their pipes and sometimes talk-though, on the whole, they were not much given to conversation, but watched the smoke from their pipes, and did a great deal of thinking-in the parlour. A few village reprobates-their number was very small-spent their days in the taproom, alternately sleeping and drinking beer (how they spent their nights many a hare could have told); and a few of the labourers dropped in of an evening apparently for the purpose of drinking up a quarrel with them, in which, and their being all summarily ejected from the house, the evening's entertainment generally terminated.

The church was high up yonder, across the fields, its wooden steeple rising out of a grove of trees, in which the warm, snug, red-bricked rectory calmly nestled.

The shops were few: there was the baker's, with three loaves in the window; and the butcher's, displaying a joint which it would have puzzled the keenest anatomist to assign to any part of any beast usually devoted to purposes of food; the blacksmith's, the wheelwright's, and the "store" of the draper and grocer, who put forth in his window and before his door more brooms and clogs than anything else. Trade was certainly not brisk-the calmness of untroubled life hung about all: inn, shops, and houses.

Nay, there was one little cottage that looked somewhat disturbed and bustling—as if it were the one that kept all the rest in order, and gave them the time o' day-with the cleanest. of blinds, the daintiest of

velveteen jacket, unlaced boots, stockings shuffled down and exposing the knee of one leg, begrimed breeches, with the strings hanging loose, again stood up and glared at me with eyes of painful gloss, almost starting out of a skin stretched till it shone again. In all the terrible symptoms of delirium tremens, there was something that told me this was the wreck of William Worboys! The shock unnerved me. I retreated before his tipsy menaces, and made my way, with a sad heart, to the Red Lion. "Ah, sir, it's a bad job," said the bluff host, in reply to my inquiries, "but Will" (he was no longer "Mr. Worboys" with the honest man) "has took to drink shocking for the last six or eight months. He's a reg'lar radical; they won't have him in the parlour, so now he goes into the taproom, till he gets so troublesome that they pitch him out. it a shocking thing, sir? What's come of him I can't think. Some say he came into a lot o' money, others say he lost a lot o' money, but no one knows the rights on it. So different, you know, to what he was-though they tell me he was a little wild like at college."

Isn't

"Well, well, we all were in those days, and Worboys was not the worst of us."

66

Very like, sir, very like; but now, oh Lord! he's dreadful. And his poor wife-poor Miss Tilly!-it's well the old folks are dead and gone, and don't see it, though perhaps they do-and it's to be hoped they'll pray for him where they are! Do you know, sir, he-he

The honest old fellow was ashamed for manhood's sake to say the word, but he brought his hard fist down upon the table with a significance that turned me faint and sick, and added with a sorrowful shake of his head, "Ah, sir, he dew—indeed he DEW!"

"When does the next coach pass through for London ?" I asked, not caring to hear more.

But his reply was stopped by the hasty entrance of a man, who cried, "Mister Walton! Mister Walton! send some chaps up to Worboys's directly. He's shot his wife, and he's kind o' mad, and they can't hold him down. Wake up Bill Judd he's in the taproom-he's as strong as a horse if he's not drunk! Doctor Scott says she's dead. Send 'em up quick!"

Oh that the coach would come up and take me from this delusive picture of repose-even to wicked London!

But it was long enough in coming to give time for another breathless messenger to arrive with the news:

"He broke away from 'em, and has gone and cut his throat!"

Miss Spiflicken's house is as trim and neat as ever, I am told (but I have never ventured near that place again), although a little child whom she adopted runs wild about it in all the license of her kindness-poor Tilly Worboys's baby!

YANKEE-LAND.

WHILE a portion of the Germans who were driven across the Atlantic by the storms of 1848 and 1849 appear to have learnt nothing and forgotten nothing, or have become more obstinate than before, another portion have learnt a great deal, and not alone materially assisted their transatlantic brethren with their knowledge, but have also, to a certain extent, acquired the right of standing forth as instructors of Europe in matters American. To this honourable class of German Americans, of whom we will only mention Kapp and Olshausen, belongs the author of a work we have now under notice.* It contains a very instructive description of the four great types of population into which the nation of the American Union is divided, and also supplies us with useful information about the German element in the Union. More especially are the Yankees proper-i.e. the population of the New England States and their colonists in the north-west-described in this book most fully. In the following sketch we will give an extract from this chapter, so far as we can agree with our author's views.

The territory of New England is a peninsula of nearly quadrangular shape, which is again divided into several smaller peninsulas, is traversed by several ranges of hills, and has a seaboard with which only that of Greece can compare in extent. This soil has since its settlement by Europeans produced a most peculiar population, varying considerably from that of the Western and Southern States. The Yankee proper is remarkable for height, thinness, a narrow skull and face, great variability of temper, inclinations, and occupations, a deficiency of simplicity and humour, premature manliness, and an early old age. On the other hand, he is distinguished from all the other American sof English origin by a grateful remembrance of the mother-land, by a constant connexion with its mental life, and by the maintenance of many old English customs in his manners, life, and taste. Then, again, he has a feeling for comfort, and takes delight in landscape beauty. Before all, he has richer mental dispositions, a stronger will, and a more persistent adhesion to what he has once determined on. Of the patents for new inventions annually granted at Washington, above one-half belong to little New England, although it contains but one-tenth of the whole population of the Union. The cotton-press, the steam-engine, the sowing and mowing machines, the steam plough, and other prominent inventions, all owe their paternity to Yankees. The same is the case with the poets and philosophers and historical authors of the country: Longfellow, Hawthorn, Bryant, Beecher Stow, Wendell Holmes, Theodore Parker, Everett, Emerson, Franklin, Bancroft, Prescott, Squier, Hitchcock, Mitchell, and Olmstead, are without an exception New Englanders. The land of the Yankees has supplied a majority of the most prominent preachers, lawyers, physicians, and professional men. It has brought forth but few statesmen, but they were the most talented, as the names of Otis, Hancock, Adams, and Webster will prove. Even the uneducated Yankee has an intelligent appearance, a

* Land und Leute in der Union. Von Adolf Douai. Berlin: Janke. 1864.

sensible, inquiring glance, and a propriety which is rarely found among this class in Europe. Moreover, he is distinguished by a firm, worthy demeanour, and a prevailing seriousness which is far more peculiar to him than to the other Americans.

The Yankee, furthermore, with a few exceptions, "is no equality scamp who spits without a spittoon." He has generally a great aversion from the vulgarities which justify the above description, and which are certainly met with very frequently in the south and west. At times he becomes troublesome through his curiosity, but is very rarely impertinent, and there is no coarseness in his nature. He readily grants others every liberty that he claims for himself. The New Englander is fond of mental and moral training, and this distinguishes him more especially from other Americans. The latter generally seek only a lacquer of education, and are church-goers and bigoted, in order to be regarded as moral. The Yankee, on the other hand, wishes to be really educated, and is a moral rigourist, so far as this does not impose too heavy duties. A true enthusiasm for the highest mental gifts is rare among all Americans, and the same is the case among the Yankees, but the latter make proportionately enormous sacrifices for the nurture of these gifts. The small State of Massachusetts pays annually for its public schools one and a half million dollars, while all its other outgoings hardly exceed the third part of that sum. The same State founded the first blind, deaf and dumb, and idiot hospitals in America, upon the model of the best institutions of the sort in Europe. Boston has two large libraries, one of seven hundred thousand, the other of one hundred and fifty thousand volumes, whose selection leaves but little to be desired, and which everybody is at liberty to consult. In the New England States there are hundreds of public libraries, nearly one in every township, which altogether contain several million well-selected books. From Massachusetts also emanated the first movement for the improvement of the school system, and the first American Kindergärten were established at Boston. The other five Yankee States (Connecticut, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Maine) follow the example given by Massachusetts, as the latter is not only their mother but their model State.

Two institutions are common to the whole Yankee population: public lectures and debating clubs. The former extend over every branch of learning, and are delivered by celebrated professional men, philanthropists, enlighteners, or beaux esprits, who receive invitations to this effect. The honorarium, which is raised by subscription, amounts to from twenty to one hundred dollars for each lecture. Most of the lecturers live by the profession. In the debating clubs the younger townsmen assemble and discuss some generally comprehended subject in a regular debate, in order to practise themselves in the art of public speaking, in which, it is true, a great deal of empty straw is thrashed, but there is always some amount of eloquence.

The Yankee goes to church, not only to be edified, but also to seek employment for his restlessly active mind. His preacher must be a man of education, a practised dialectician, rich in thought, and correct in language. Mere unction will not do. The women are enthusiastic for him, and outbid each other in attentions and presents to him. The salaries of the clergy are often very considerable, and the expense of belong

ing to a congregation is great. The churches, generally small, and, on the average, only calculated for four hundred hearers, and frequently the property of the preacher, are comfortably fitted up, and in winter carpeted and warmed. The organ and organist are good, and there is always a choir of voluntary or paid singers. The expenses are usually covered by putting up the seats by auction, which, with popular preachers, often cost a thousand dollars or more a year for a family. With the Yankee belonging to a clerical community is certainly the sign of a respectable man, but it makes no material difference when he indulges in a free-thinking tendency, or belongs to such denominations as the Unitarians, Universalists, Friends, and Herrnhuters, who constantly increase in numbers, and probably already comprise one-third of the population of New England. The Episcopal Church has very few adherents; much more numerous are the outsiders, or persons indifferent to religion, who join no confession, do not even have their children christened, but, as a rule, they belong to the lower and rougher class. Spiritualism, or the doctrine that it is possible to enter into communication with the souls of deceased persons by the aid of Mediums, has its partisans in New England as well as in the whole Union, and among them is a great number of free-thinkers.

The scrupulous observance of the Sabbath is peculiar to the Yankee, but he is now relaxing his severity under German influence. Sacred concerts, at which a great deal of secular music is performed, have grown fashionable in New England. While formerly there was no cooking in a Yankee household on a Sunday, but they ate cold dishes prepared on the previous day, now the majority of the New Englanders have hot dishes on their table on Sunday as well.

The Yankee is accused of being more fanatical in matters of conviction than the other Americans, but unjustly so. The author, on the contrary, sees in him the most tolerant and indulgent of the North Americans. If witches were burnt in New England, and a Quakeress hanged on account of her creed, this happened at a time when things were no better elsewhere. If the old Puritans had most intolerant laws, they have now been abrogated. At the present day-what a horror for the Pilgrim Fathers! -Catholic festivals like Christmas and Easter are kept; there are a carnival and theatre, and even balls are no longer regarded as godless. A trace of the old fanatic puritanism is certainly still to be found in the Temperance and Sunday laws, as well as in the nativism of the Yankees, but there is a good deal to be said in excuse. Spirits intoxicate in America more easily than in Europe. They are cause of most of the crimes and accidents, and they more especially cause so many promising youths to sink into the class of roughs and rowdies. Lastly, they played a prominent part in the political contests of the last ten years, as the democratic party, or party of roughness, was mainly recruited, and prepared its attacks on the electoral liberty of the opponents, in the publichouses. The temperance societies, founded to check these evils, could not make head-way, and hence demanded the interference of the legislature, especially when the immigration of drunken Irish seriously swelled the ranks of the opponents. The first prohibition of the sale of spirits took place in Maine, the other New England States followed the example, and ere long the law was passed in most of the Southern and Western