The western world; or, Travels in the United States in 1846-47: exhibiting them in their latest development, social, political and industrial; including a chapter on California

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA

DAVIS

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THE

WESTERN WORLD;

OR,

TKAVELS IN THE UNITED STATES
IN 1846-47 :

EXHIBITING THEM IN THEIR LATEST DEVELOPMENT,
SOCIAL, POLITICAL, AND INDUSTRIAL;

INCLUDING A CHAPTER ON

CALIFORNIA.

WITH A NEW MAP OP THE UNITED STATES,

SHOWING THEIR RECENT TERRITORIAL ACQUISITIONS, AND

A MAP OP CALIFORNIA.

BY ALEX. MACK AY, ESQ.

OP THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER AT LAW.

JN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

THIRD EDITION.

LONDON :

RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
: in Cftrlmtarj.) to fjer jffflajegtp.
1850.

LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
DAVIS

LONDON :
R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

PAGE

The Valley of the Mississippi.— From New Orleans to Vicks-
burg 1

CHAPTER II.
The Valley of the Mississippi 39

CHAPTER III.

From St. Louis to Louisville, Cincinnati, and Pittsburg. —
Mining interests of the United States 67

CHAPTER IV.
From Pittsburgh to Niagara 97

CHAPTER V.

Artificial Irrigation of the United States.— Rivalry between
Canada and New York for the Carrying-trade of the North
west. — The Navigation Laws 132

CHAPTER VI.

From Buffalo to Utica, and thence to Montreal by the St.
Lawrence 161

CHAPTER VII.

From Montreal to Saratoga, Albany, and West Point. — Military
Spirit and Military Establishments of the United States . .190

IV CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VIII.

PAGE

Education and Literature in the United States 223

CHAPTER IX.
Religion in the United States 249

CHAPTER X.

Lowell.— Manufactures and Manufacturing Interest of the
United States 279

CHAPTER XI.
American Character. — Physical Condition of Society in America 31 7

CHAPTER XII.
A Peep into the Future 343

A CHAPTER ON CALIFORNIA . , . 361

THE WESTERN WORLD;

OR,

TRAVELS IN THE UNITED STATES IN 1846-7.
CHAPTER I.

THE VALLEY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. — FROM NEW
ORLEANS TO VICKSBURG.

An unexpected Meeting. — Departure from New Orleans. — The
Mississippi — Its Dimensions. — Part which it will yet play in
the Drama of Civilization. — Scenery on its Banks. — A Mississippi
Steamer. — Fellow-travellers.— Gamblers again. — An Incident. —
The State of Mississippi.— Eepudiation Case of Mississippi. — The
Insolvent States.— The Solvent States.— The Unindebted States.—
Eesponsibility of the States. — N/atches. — Vicksburg. — A summary
Trial and Execution. — Lynch Law. — Administration of the Law
throughout the Union. — Position of the People of the West and
South-west. — Allowances which should be made for them.

ON the day previous to that on which, after more
than a week's sojourn, I quitted New Orleans, I was
delighted, on taking my seat at the table d'hbte of the
St. Charles, in company with about 500 other guests, to

find a valued friend, Mr. D from Baltimore, seated

next to me on the right. He was an Englishman in
the prime of life, but had been so long resident in
VOL. m. B

2 THE WESTERN WORLD.

America, and had made it the scene of such extensive
business operations, that he now combined with an
ineradicable affection for his native country a very
great partiality for that of his adoption, and with the
feelings and sentiments of an Englishman, much that
is characteristic of the American. He had never been
naturalized, but he was now beginning to reconcile
himself to the idea of transferring his allegiance, as
he was of becoming a Benedict ; his object in con
templating the process of naturalization having less
reference to himself than to those who might yet
surround him in an endearing relationship. My
advice to him was to take no step that he was not
certain was necessary ; but if he was tired of being
sole monarch of himself, to marry first, and wait the
tide of events. The process of naturalization was a
brief and a sure one when entered upon ; the necessity
for it in his case had not yet become obvious.

After we had interchanged the ordinary salutations
to which such unexpected meetings invariably give rise,
I learnt from him that he had arrived in New Orleans
but the preceding day, and that the next was that
fixed for his departure. He had just taken a run to
the South, he said, to " do a bit of business," which;
by giving his personal attention to it, he could accom
plish more satisfactorily in a single day than by the
correspondence of a month. By the time he reached
home his journey would have considerably exceeded
in length two thousand miles; but he thought nothing
of it, having thoroughly contracted the American
aptitude for locomotion, and the indifference which the
Americans manifest to distances. It was his intention
to return, as he had come, by the route over which I
had just passed ; but as we had both decided on the

THE WESTERN WORLD. 3

same time for departure, I deemed it worth while to
try if our routes could not be got to coincide. I
therefore proposed to him to ascend the Mississippi
and the Ohio with me, a course which would not take
him much out of his way, as from the latter stream
he could reach home by the Baltimore and Ohio
railway. He readily consented to the change, at
which I was exceedingly rejoiced, both because he
was excellent company, and his knowledge of the
country and people would be of great advantage
to me.

Next morning at an early hour we left New Or
leans for St. Louis. Our journey was confined to the
Mississippi, which we were to ascend for upwards of
1,200 miles. "We were on board a first-class steamer,
and as we receded from the town, and before the first
curve of the river had hid it from our view, I thought
it, as the morning sun shone brightly upon its spires
and cupolas, its massive piles of warehouses, its Levee
already swarming with busy thousands, and the spars
and rigging and multitudinous funnels which lined
its semicircular harbour, one of the finest views of the
kind I had ever beheld. In itself the southern capital
is in every respect a most interesting town. But it
has little that is interesting around it, for it stands,
as it were, alone in the wilderness, a city without any
immediate environs, to attract the stranger, or to
recreate its inhabitants.

The Mississippi ! It was with indescribable emo
tions that I first felt myself afloat upon its waters.
How often in my schoolboy dreams, and in my waking
visions afterwards, had my imagination pictured to
itself the lordly stream, rolling with tumultuous cur
rent through the boundless region to which it has

4 THE WESTERN WORLD.

given its name, and gathering into itself, in its course
to the ocean, the tributary waters of almost every
latitude in the temperate zone ! Here it was then,
in its reality, and I, at length, steaming against its
tide. I looked upon it with that reverence with
which every one must regard a great feature of exter
nal nature. The lofty mountain, the illimitable plain,
and the seemingly shoreless lake, are all objects which
strike the mind with awe. But second to none of
them in the sublime emotions which it inspires, is the
mighty river ; and badly constituted must that mind
be, which could contemplate for the first time with a
feeling of indifference a stream which, in its resist
less flow, passes through so many climes, and traverses
so many latitudes, rising amid perpetual snows, and
debouching under an almost tropical sun, and drain
ing into itself the surplus waters of about two millions
of square miles !

But the grandeur of the Mississippi consists less
in the majestic proportions of its physical aspect than
in the part which it is yet destined to play in the
great drama of civilized life. It was grand, whilst it
yet rolled silently and unknown through the unbroken
solitudes of the primeval forest — it was grand, when
the indomitable but unfortunate Soto first gazed
upon its waters, and when they opened to receive at
the hands of his disconsolate band, the corpse of its
discoverer — and it was grand, when no sound was
heard along its course but the scream of the eagle
and the war-whoop of the savage — when no smoke
curled and wreathed amid the foliage on its banks
but such as arose from the wigwam, and when nothing
was afloat upon its surface but the canoe and the
tree torn from its roots by the flood. But grander

THE WESTERN WORLD. 5

will it yet be, ay far grander, when civilization has
tracked it from its mouths toils sources; when indus
try has converted its sides into a garden, and speckled
them with lively towns and glittering cities ; and when
busy populations line its shores, and teem along the
banks of all its tributaries. Then, and then only,
will the Mississippi fulfil its destiny.

Already, with but nine millions of people in the
valley, its whole aspect is changed ; the wilderness
has been successfully invaded ; the hum of busy in
dustry is heard along its shores ; towns have sprung
up, as if by magic, upon its banks ; the combined
banner of science and art waves over its waters ;
and hundreds of steamers, with a multitude of other
craft, are afloat upon its tide. What scene will it
present when the present population of the valley is
multiplied by ten, and when, serving as a bond of
perpetual union, stronger than treaties, protocols, or
the other appliances of diplomacy between more than a
dozen sovereign and independent commonwealths, it
is the common highway, along which will be borne
the accumulated products of their united industry to
the ocean ! Viewed in the double light of what it is
and what it is to be, it is marvellous how some can
look upon the Mississippi as nothing more than a
" muddy ditch." Muddy it undoubtedly is, but that
which renders its current so turgid is but the material
torn from distant regions, with which it comes laden
to construct new territories in more accessible posi
tions. The opaqueness of its volume is thus but one
of the means by which is gradually accomplished a
great physical phenomenon. Regarded in connexion
with the purposes to which it will yet be applied
when civilization has risen to full tide around it, the

6 THE WESTERN WORLD.

Mississippi must be equally an object of interest to
the Englishman as to the American — for what English
man can look with indifference upon that which is
yet destined to be the principal medium of commu
nication between the great world and the region
which is rapidly becoming the chief theatre for Anglo-
Saxon enterprise, and will yet witness the greatest
triumphs of Anglo-Saxon energy and skill? He
takes, then, but a vulgar view of it who treats as
merely so much muddy water running through an
unpicturesque country, a stream which, ere many
more heads are grey, will exercise so important an
influence upon the commercial and political relations
of the world.

Nowhere has the Mississippi the majesty of ap
pearance presented, throughout most of its course,
by the St. Lawrence. At New Orleans it is scarcely
a mile in width, expanding somewhat a short distance
above the city, and continuing of an average width
of a little more than a mile as far up as its confluence
with the Missouri. For a long way beyond that
point its size diminishes but little, although its depth
is not nearly so great as after the junction. Its
depth increases as its volume is enhanced by the
contributions of one tributary after another, which
accounts for the absence of any apparent enlargement
of its size for the last fifteen hundred miles of its course,
during which it receives most of its great tributary
streams. The current flows at the average rate of
three miles an hour, and its increasing volume is
accommodated by its increasing depth as it proceeds
through the soft alluvial deposit in which it has its
bed. As it approaches its outlet, the current gradually
diminishes, and will continue still further to diminish,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 7

for reasons already explained, until it is forced to seek
a new channel through the Delta.

We steamed famously on against the voluminous
current, and had not proceeded far ere the country
on either side began to look firmer, higher, drier, and
richer. The banks were lined with cotton and sugar
plantations, the former now rapidly giving way to
the latter in Louisiana. For some way above the city,
the mansions and villas of wealthy proprietors were
visible, embosomed in foliage, and surrounded with
luxuriant gardens. Further up, these gave way to the
residences of the overseers, and the buildings erected
for the accommodation of the slaves. The one fre
quently looked elegant, the other generally clean,
neat, and comfortable, judging from the distance.
Gradually the banks began to attain some elevation
above the level of the stream. Whether they rose a
few feet or many above it, they were almost invariably
precipitous, and in many instances impending, the
alluvial soil of which they were composed being par
tially undermined by the current, and ready to drop
into the stream with the trees, bushes, grass and
flowers with which it was covered. It is thus that
the banks of the Mississippi are undergoing per
petual change. Where its course is straight for any
length, it is gradually widening its channel, but
diminishing it in depth ; whereas, where it is winding,
which is generally the case, the weight of the current
bears upon the outer circumference of the curve, on
which it is constantly encroaching, whilst it recedes
to an equal extent from the opposite bank. The
higher up we proceeded the richer and more varied
became the forest on either hand, which came some
times sweeping down to the margin of the river, and

8 THE WESTERN WORLD.

had at others receded for miles to make way for the
plantation. Occasionally we passed through reaches
of the stream, which forced their way through the
thick and tangled cane-brake, where the cold, oozy,
and sedgy appearance of the soil, made me appre
ciate my dry and firm footing upon the promenade
deck.

This reminds me of our steamer, of which I have as
yet given no description. As we were to be from
six to eight days on board, we took care to scrutinize
her well before engaging a passage, and it may not
be uninteresting to the reader to know what kind of
ark it was that we were to inhabit for that time.
As already said, she was a first-class, and high-pres
sure of course. One might reason himself into the
belief that she had a hull, knowing how necessary
such things are to steam-boats; but viewing her
from an ordinary position, the eye could detect none ;
all that was visible for her to rest upon being her
paddle-wheels, which were very large. She was of
immense width, the enormous protrusion of her
lower deck on either side being the cause of the in
visibility of her hull. This was so constructed as to
accommodate in front the greatest possible quantity
of cotton and other merchandise, which she could
carry without sinking her ; whilst above it, resting on
very slender pillars, rose the promenade decks, covered
abaft the engine with an awning. She was named the
" Niobe," and was like Niobe, all tiers. The saloon,
which was between decks, occupied nearly the latter half
of the vessel, the state rooms lining it, being entered both
from within, and by means of a door, with which each
was provided, entering from the walk between decks,
which completely surrounded the saloon, the latter

THE WESTERN WORLD. 9

part of which was divided off into a cabin for the
ladies. She carried a prodigious quantity of white
and black paint upon her ; had two enormous funnels,
as most American boats have ; and consumed a tre
mendous supply of wood, shooting up flame at
night, and leaving a double train of brilliant sparks
behind her, which, together with the lights which
occasionally gleamed faintly from the shore, contrasted
curiously with the bright starlight overhead. The
captain had no positive qualities about him, either
good or evil, attending to his chief duties, and letting
his passengers look after themselves. We found the
table exceedingly good the whole way. The weather
was very hot, but we were supplied with fresh meat
at the different stations.

We had a large company on board, most of whom
looked respectable, and were agreeable enough as
travelling companions. Having sufficient company,
however, in my friend, I did not mingle with them
as much as I should otherwise have done. There was
one group of very suspicious looking characters, who
kept constantly together, for the very good reason
that they were shunned by everybody else. I noticed
them shortly after coming on board, as they were
standing near the engine, examining a couple of seven-
barrelled pistols, and another " revolver " of a less
formidable description, which a long-haired and long
headed Yankee was offering them for sale. These wea
pons, together with the bowie knife, et id genus omne,
are generally well made and highly finished. The best
of them have some motto or other etched upon them.
A story was once told of a collision to which a sudden
quarrel on board a steamer was about to give rise,
having been averted by the singular coincidence of

B3

10 THE WESTERN WORLD.

the mottos on the weapons about to be employed.
The party offended drew his bowie knife, and
directed the attention of the other to the motto
which it bore upon its broad burnished blade, which
was, " Hark, from the tombs ! " The other coolly
drew a pistol from his breast, on the gleaming barrel
of which was etched, " A doleful sound ! " — the two
weapons thus completing between them the first line
of a well-known hymn. So curious a coincidence
drew forth a hearty laugh from all parties, and the
offence was forgotten. It is a pity that some effective
stop could not be put to the carrying of these
weapons, as the very possession of them frequently
precipitates fatal collisions. The group of gamblers
adverted to left us at Natches. They had intended
to proceed higher up, and had paid their fare to a
greater distance ; but there being no prospect of their
successfully plying their vocation on board, they
went ashore at the place which was once notorious as
their chief resort, and is still grievously infested with
them.

The fiery blood of the South is easily excited, and
a slight incident occurred on board which gave me an
opportunity of witnessing the readiness to take
offence, which is a marked feature in southern cha
racter. Four or five young men were standing
together conversing on the promenade deck, when
one of them, a Virginian, gave an elaborate descrip
tion of a young horse which he had lately purchased.
After dwelling upon his different excellences, and par
ticularly describing his action, he asked the company
in general how much they thought he gave for him.

" Your note, what else ? " said one of those ad
dressed, in the driest possible tone.

THE WESTEKN WORLD. 11

In a moment the young man's eyes flashed fire- —
and, had he possessed a weapon, a fatal collision
might have been the result, for the other was armed.

" A joke, a joke !" cried the rest of the company,
" nothing more ; no offence meant." And after some
further interposition on their part, the storm was
strangled in its cradle.

" A joke that came too near the truth, I fancy,"
said one over his shoulder, in an under-tone to another,
as they immediately afterwards separated.

When about two-thirds of the way to Natches, we
passed the line dividing, on the east bank of the
river, the State of Louisiana from that of Mississippi ;
the former continuing upon the west bank for nearly
two degrees further to the north. On passing the
boundary, and having the State of Mississippi on
our right, my mind very naturally reverted to a
subject with which the name of that State has for
some years been most unfavourably identified. My
thoughts at length found vent in expression, and
I observed to my companion, that it was a matter of
astonishment to me that a State possessed of resources
like those of Mississippi, could remain for one hour
longer than it could avoid it under the stigma which
now rested upon its character.

" The subject with which your mind is now occu
pied," said he, "is one on which there is much mis
conception abroad. It is misunderstood both through
ignorance and prejudice. Some cannot, and others
will not, give it an impartial consideration."

" I have heard the same thing more than once
advanced during my peregrinations through the
country," I replied, " and am inclined to believe
that abroad the case is very much prejudged. I

12 THE WESTERN WORLD.

should much like to know the sentiments regarding
it entertained by one occupying a position in the
country so favourable to a proper appreciation of the
subject as is yours."

" I have no objection to giving you my views,"

said Mr. D , " but I must first stipulate, that

you will carefully discriminate between my endea
vours to place the subject in its proper light, and
any approval on my part of the principle or practice
of repudiation. I demand this, not because I think
that you would willingly misconstrue my motives, or
attribute to me principles which every honourable
mind would scorn to entertain ; but because our
countrymen, full of preconceived opinions upon the
subject, are but too ready to denounce every effort
at eliciting the real merits of the case, as nothing
short of a direct advocacy of repudiation."

I readily promised to comply, assuring him that
my object was not to confirm any preconceived notion
of my own, but to get at the truth, no matter to what
inference or conclusion it might lead.

"As to the villainy of repudiation," said he,
"naked, absolute, and unequivocal, there can be no
two opinions amongst honourable men."

To such a proposition I could not but assent.

" If any member of this Confederacy," he observed,
continuing, " or any other community, no matter
where situated, were guilty of such, no man who
valued his own reputation could attempt to raise his
voice in its defence."

I acknowledged the risk any one would run in
doing so.

" Now," continued he, " whilst this is the crime
with which some States are directly charged, and in

THE WESTERN WORLD. 13

which the whole Union is more or less involved, in
the opinion of so many abroad ; it is a crime of which
no member of this Confederacy has as yet been guilty,
and of which, I trust, no member of it ever will be
guilty."

" For my own part," I observed in reply, " I always
discriminated widely between the case of Mississippi
and that of the other States, which are either wholly,
or have been but temporarily insolvent, and have cer
tainly never, even in word or thought, attempted to
involve the innocent with the guilty."

" You select," said he, " the case of Mississippi,
no doubt, as the worst in the catalogue. So it is ;
but even Mississippi is not guilty of the enormities
with which she stands charged. Repudiation, in its
simple acceptation, is the refusal to pay a debt
acknowledged to be justly due. Now, as thus con
strued, even Mississippi has not been guilty of repu
diation. The debt which she has refused to pay is a
debt which she does not acknowledge to be justly
due. If not fraudulently, she insists that it was, at
least, illegally contracted, so that she regards it as a
debt which she may, but which she is not bound to
pay. Whilst this is the real state of the case, she
gets credit for cherishing. a conviction of the justice
of their claims, at the same time that she sets her
creditors at defiance. Her language to them is sup
posed to be this : — ' I owe you the money, and can
have no possible objection to your claim ; but you
may whistle for it, for not one farthing of what I
justly owe you shall you receive from me.' What
ever community or individual would hold such lan
guage to its or his creditors, must have previously
sounded the deepest depths of infamy. It is con-

14 THE WESTERN WORLD.

soling to know that even the Mississippians have not
done this, for even they have the grace left to seek
to shelter themselves behind an excuse for their
conduct."

" There is certainly some sense of honour left," I
observed, " in those who care for explaining away or
extenuating their disgraceful conduct, provided the
endeavour to do so be not solely with a view to
escape the punishment which might otherwise attach
to it. The man who tries to excuse himself for the
commission of a wrong, testifies, to some extent, in
favour of what is right. If the Mississippians are
not the graceless and unblushing repudiators which
they are supposed to be, I should like to know the
nature of their excuse, for upon that depends altogether
the extent to which it can palliate their conduct."

" I by no means wish," replied Mr. D , " to

screen the State of Mississippi from any obloquy
which may justly attach to her in what I have already
said ; my sole object has been to show that even she
has not gone the length to which many suppose or
wish to believe that several of the States have gone ;
for even she is, in her own eyes, not without excuse
for what she has done. Whether that excuse be
valid or not is another question. It may not be of a
nature to rescue her from all blame, but the very fact
that she tenders one is sufficient to relieve her from
the grosser charge which is so very generally hurled
against her."

" But her excuse ? " said I.

" The entire debt of Mississippi," said he, " has
not been repudiated. It is only a portion of it,
though certainly the greater portion, that has been
thus dealt with. Her excuse for refusing to pay

THE WESTERN WORLD. 15

that portion rests upon the alleged illegality of the
transactions which made her a debtor to that amount.
The debt, she asserts, was unconstitutionally con
tracted ; and was, therefore, never binding upon her,
so as to give her creditors any legal claim upon her
for its repayment."

" But how," I asked, " was the foreign capitalist
to know whether the constitutional forms of the State
of Mississippi were or were not complied with, in the
conduct, by her accredited officers, of the transac
tions which resulted in their becoming her cre
ditors?"

u They should, for their own sakes," said he, " have
seen that they were. The debt was contracted by
virtue of a law of the State. The form of the bonds
was prescribed. They should have satisfied themselves,
before advancing their money, that the law was, in
every respect, complied with. It was not in a mere
non-essential that the prescribed form of the bonds
was departed from. The variation was both as to the
place of payment, and the currency in which payment
was to be made. Who are more interested in the
correctness of such transactions than they who are
advancing their money upon them? The means of
knowledge were within their reach, had they cared for
making use of them. But it is the opinion of some,
that whilst many lent their money upon securities
which they never suspected of being faulty, there
were not a few amongst those who dealt very largely
in them, who connived at the flaws which were intro
duced into them, greedily anxious to invest their money
at a rate of interest unattainable at home, and trust
ing to the honour of the people of the State to stand
by their bonds, whether they were faulty or otherwise."

16 THE WESTERN WORLD.

" I confess,'- said I, " that could such a suspicion
be brought home to any of the creditors of the State,
if their fate would not be pronounced a just one, few
would sympathise with them in their misfortunes.
But until the charge be proved, it must be taken as a
mere suspicion, and the original holders of the vitiated
bonds must stand, without exception, in the category
of bonafide creditors. This being so, it behoved the
State to adopt as its own the acts of its agents, and
to exact satisfaction from these agents for deviating
from their powers, instead of visiting its creditors
with the penalty of their misconduct. And this the
State was more particularly bound to do, seeing that
it has had the benefit of the money, and that its
securities have long since passed into the hands of
bonafide and innocent holders."

" I quite agree with you," observed Mr. D ;

" this would have been giving effect to the moral
obligation, and waiving the mere legal technicality.
But this is the case on which Mississippi grounds
what she considers to be her legal exoneration from
the payment of her debt. This, in short, is her
excuse. I did not undertake to prove it a valid one,
nor do I now express any opinion upon that subject.
All that I wished to show was, that whether valid or
not, the fact that she tenders an excuse redeems her,
improper and impolitic though her conduct has been,
from the charge so constantly brought against her,
of having unblushingly set at defiance every legal as
well as every moral obligation. Had Mississippi
acted prudently, she would have paid her debt and
impeached her agents. The truth is, she is at present
unable to pay, and takes shelter behind a legal flaw,
as is done every day between man and man, when

T1IE WESTERN WORLD. 17

agents deviate from their patent instructions, and a
flaw the validity of which the mere legalist may
recognise. But by-and-by the moral obligation will
triumph over the technical objection."

" Were I convinced," I observed, " that she was
merely unable to pay, I should regard her position
more as her misfortune than her fault. But I can
scarcely admit the suggestion of inability, when I
consider her immense and varied resources."

" Her resources are undoubtedly great," continued
he, " but they are yet but partly available, the bulk
of them being still in a latent state. There is no place
where so many warnings are given against extending
the pressure of direct taxation as in England. Con
sidering the extent to which her resources have been
developed, and are available as subjects of taxation,
it seems, for the present, to have been carried to its
utmost limit in Mississippi. The annual revenue
raised by her is a little upwards of three hundred
thousand dollars ; and, with the exception of about
five thousand, it is all the product of direct taxes."

" If direct taxes have reached their limit in
England, it is because of the heavy pressure of the
accumulated load of indirect taxation under which
she groans and staggers. But in proportion as she is
relieved of the one, there is no reason why the other
might not safely be extended. It seems that Missis
sippi has no indirect taxation to add to the pressure
of her direct taxes."

" She has no indirect taxation for local purposes,"
he observed, " but it would be wrong to infer that
the sum which she raises by direct taxes is all the
burden she is called upon to bear in the way of tax
ation. The amount which, by her consumption of

18 THE WESTERN WORLD.

foreign articles, she pays towards the support of the
general government, is double what she raises for the
maintenance of her local administration. She has
thus, as England has, to sustain the combined pres
sure of the two systems."

" Admitting," said I, " that the State is already
taxed to the utmost limits of endurance, the debt
under which she labours was, as I understand it,
contracted for the construction of public works.
Why, with such limited resources, undertake such
gigantic works? Why did she go so much beyond
her depth?"

" If England cannot undertake a little war, neither
can America a little improvement. Public works on
the European scale would be of but little value on
this continent, where the features of nature are ex
hibited in such gigantic outline. When art comes
in aid of nature, it must conform itself to the scale of
nature. The points to be united here are important ;
and as they are generally far apart, the means of
uniting them, whether it be by canal, telegraph, or
railway, must be great in proportion. By a canal a
few score miles in length, they complete in England a
natural and artificial navigation of one or two hundred
miles. By a canal a few hundred miles in length in
America, they complete a natural and artificial navi
gation extending for thousands of miles. There they
connect the Humber with the Mersey, the Forth
with the Clyde; here the Ohio with the Delaware,
the Hudson with the Mississippi. There the im
portant points to be united together are at but trifling
distances from each other, and in reaching them, the
one from the other, you proceed along the smiling
vale which the eye can generally grasp at a single

THE WESTERN WORLD. 19

vision, cross the rivulet which the schoolboy can
leap, and thread a mazy course amongst gentle undu
lations, some of which it is cheaper to tunnel than to
turn; but here, cities, towns, and the great marts
of commerce lie far apart, and to unite them you
have to traverse in long straight lines the boundless
plain, penetrate the mountain ridges, intersect the
interminable forest, span or ferry the mightiest rivers,
and cross morass after morass, all of them yet un-
drained, and some of them undrainable. Taking
them as far as they go, there are no works more solid
or substantial, or that exhibit themselves as greater
triumphs of the skill and perseverance of a people,
than the public works of England. But they are on
a small scale when compared with those already exe
cuted and projected here, and such as are to be yet
projected and executed. People measure the great
ness of their works by the scale of the occasion for
them. Improvements here are on a scale which the
people are accustomed to, but a scale which in England
would be considered prodigious. The reason is, that
in the one case it is necessary to conform to it,
whereas in the other it would be unnecessary to adopt
it. There are several of the unfinished canals of
America, any one of which would make the circuit of
some kingdoms. The American is, therefore, con
demned to the alternative of making no improvement
at all, or of conforming himself in making them to
the scale of circumstances. For the last fifteen years
a mania for internal improvements has overspread the
face of the earth ; Mississippi participated in it. She
was poor, and the works which she undertook were
great and expensive ; but their prospective fruits
seemed to justify both the effort and the outlay. But

20 THE WESTERN WORLD.

her credit was shaken before they were all completed,
and some of them are, for the present, absolutely
profitless investments. She went greatly beyond her
depth ; but so have too many other States, both in
the Old World and in the New. If she was too eager
to borrow, so were capitalists too eager to lend."

"All this," said I, " may serve as an excuse for her
imprudence, but you have not, in my opinion, exone
rated her from the substantial charge against her.
In pleading an excuse for the repudiation of her
debt, she has paid but a lip homage to common
decency."

" But even that shows that a sentiment of honesty
still remains ; and so long as that lingers in her bosom,
there is hope of her redemption."

" That I believe," I observed, " for even if honour
fail to induce her to do so, policy and self-interest
will yet prompt her to redeem herself; and I have
little doubt but that the day will soon come when she
will thoroughly repent of her waywardness, and
again hold up her head amongst the nations of the
world."

Mr. D here interrupted our conversation to

point out to me the mouth of the Red River, which
entered the Mississippi from the west. What we saw
was more where the confluence took place than the
confluence itself, an island which had been thrown
up by the combined action of the two rivers hiding
the junction from our view. This great stream,
rising amongst the more easterly ridges of the Rocky
Mountains, and within what was once the territory of
Mexico, and forming, for part of its course, the
dividing line between the two republics, flows for about
1,500 miles before it enters the Mississippi, within

THE WESTERN WORLD. 21

the territory of Louisiana. Its navigation was for
merly completely interrupted by what was known as
the Red River Raft. All the rivers in the valley
when in flood bring down with them enormous quan
tities of timber, the spoils of the territories which
they periodically inundate. Such was the amount
brought down by the Red River, that at a point not
far from its mouth its channel was at length almost
choked up, the timber having lodged in such quantity
that, the stream could not displace it ; each successive
flood added to the obstruction, until at length this
raft came to exceed thirty miles in length. In some
places soil was being rapidly deposited upon it, and
vegetation making its appearance upon its surface,
and there was every reason to believe that the raft
would soon have become an island, round which the
river would have flowed in two new channels to
the Mississippi. To prevent the stream from being
diverted, and to open up the navigation at once, the
raft has been removed, or partially so, at immense
cost, by the general government, a broad canal
or channel having been cut completely through it.
There is, therefore, every probability that it will
by-and-by entirely disappear.

On our right, bluffs of considerable height now
overhung the river, and the country on either hand,
which was exceedingly rich, began to assume a more
undulating, and consequently a more interesting
appearance*

" Not only," said my friend, resuming the con
versation, which had been interrupted for a few
minutes, "has the precise position of Mississippi
with regard to her debt been misunderstood, but
other States, either still or formerly insolvent, have

22 THE WESTERN WORLD.

been confounded with her in the charge of absolute
and unequivocal repudiation. Whether the excuse
preferred by Mississippi be a valid one, or a mere
quibble, there is no doubt that for the present she re
fuses to acknowledge a portion of her debt ; in other
words, she refuses to pay it, either principal or
interest. It is undoubtedly true that there are
other States, such as Pennsylvania and Maryland,
which have been in the same category so far as the
mere non-payment of their debts is concerned; but
in no other particular can their position be regarded
as identical with that of Mississippi. They have
never repudiated their debts. Mississippi alone has
refused either to pay or to recognise the legality of the
claims against her ; the others have, admitting their
obligations, been simply unable to meet them."

" I acknowledge the difference," said I, t( between
a downright refusal to pay, and an inability, either
temporary or permanent, to pay. But inability, to
excuse, must be proved. The debt of Pennsylvania
is a little upwards of forty millions of dollars. The
annual interest payable thereon is a little above two
millions of dollars. Now the property of the State
in canals, railroads, &c., is computed at upwards of
thirty millions. The real and personal property of
the State, irrespective of this public property, is
estimated at upwards of 2,000,000,000 of dollars. Is
it possible that with such resources Pennsylvania can
plead inability to pay?"

" There is no doubt," said he, " but that the re
sources of Pennsylvania are more than sufficient to
cover a much greater debt than that under which she
now labours. The works in which the money bor
rowed has been invested having failed for the present

THE WESTERN WORLD. 23

to be as productive as it was expected they would be,
the State had to look to other sources for the means
of meeting her obligations. The only feasible mode
of procuring these means appeared to be to lay an
assessed tax upon real and personal property. This
course was resorted to, but for a few years the pro
duce of this tax was much less than was anticipated,
resistance being made to its payment, chiefly by the
German population of the State. The treasury was
thus temporarily bankrupt ; and not only was the
debt not diminished, but the interest upon it was
not paid. But this did not last long, the State, which
had never repudiated her debt, at length finding the
assessed taxes sufficiently productive to enable her
not only to pay the interest, but to redeem this year
a portion of the principal. Pennsylvania fell behind
in a moment of bitter disappointment, on finding
her public works, notwithstanding all the promises
that had been held out to her, insufficient for the
time being to meet the interest of the sums which
had been expended upon them. She now thoroughly
understands her position, which is to make up the
deficit by extraordinary exertions. This she is now
doing by means of her assessed taxes, and will con
tinue to do until her whole debt is paid off, or until
her public works become sufficiently productive to
meet through their means alone the obligations con
tracted for their construction."

" I am truly rejoiced," I replied, " to see Penn
sylvania once more in her proper position as a solvent
State. For one I never regarded her in the light of
a repudiating one. But when a State like Penn
sylvania, plethoric with resources, omitted to pay the
interest upon a debt, insignificant in amount as

24 THE WESTERN WORLD.

compared with these resources, it is not so much to
be wondered at, perhaps, that those who suffered by
such omission should have risen into exaggeration
in their charges against her, or that those who sym
pathised with them, but were not otherwise in
terested, should, without examining for themselves,
have been influenced by the sufferers in their judg
ments."

" Precisely so," observed Mr. D ; " but it is

too much the fashion in England to stigmatise all
the insolvent, as repudiating, States. Insolvency is a
misfortune, repudiation a crime. Some of the in
solvent States have given up their public works at a
valuation to their creditors, and are making every
possible struggle to relieve themselves from their
embarrassments. They are in a position similar to
that occupied by Spain in regard to her public
debt at this moment. She does not pay, but no one
thinks of charging her with repudiation. The in
solvent States are in the same category, with the
single exception of Mississippi, who in absolutely
refusing to pay, thinks, or affects to think, that she
has good reason for so doing."

" It is difficult," I observed, " to say why it is,
but so it is, that Englishmen are too prone to mingle
severity with their judgments whenever the Republic
is concerned. It is the interest of aristocracy to ex
hibit republicanism, wherever it is found, in the
worst possible light, and the mass of the people have
too long, by pandering to their prejudice, aided them
in their object. They recognise America as the
stronghold of republicanism. If they can bring it
into disrepute here, they know that they inflict upon
it the deadliest blow in Europe. Spain is yet a

THE WESTERN WORLD. 25

monarchy, and consequently in fashion. Were she
a republic, her present financial state would be im
puted to her as the greatest of her crimes. This is
the reason why many, who could have done so, have
not discriminated between the case of one State and
another in the American Union. They eagerly catch
at the perversities of one, which they exhibit as ;a
sample of all the rest. It is thus that the public mind
in Europe has been misled ; and I am sorry to say
that literature has, in too many cases, by self ^perver
sion, lent its powerful aid to the deception."

"But this want of discrimination," observed Mr.

D , " is not confined to the case of the insolvent

States alone. It is also too much the fashion in
England to speak of all the States as if they had,
without exception, repudiated their obligations. They
forget, or rather will not remember, that, whilst
some of the States are free from debt, altogether, the
majority of them, being more or less in debt, are
solvent, like Great Britain herself, and quite as likely
to continue so. But they are all flippantly spoken
of, as if, in the first place, they were one and all in
solvent ; and, in the next, had one and all repudiated
their debts."

" There is much truth," said I, " in what you urge,
and I must confess that nothing can be more unfair."

" But the most extraordinary thing connected with
this whole matter," said he, " is the call which is
made by some who are ignorant of the relationship
in which the different States stand towards each
other, and by others who thoroughly understand it,
upon the solvent States, to pay, or to aid in paying,
the debts of such as are in default* What encourage
ment would a man have to pay his own way in the

VOL. III. C

26 THE WESTERN WORLD.

world, if he were liable to be called upon to clear
the scores of his neighbours ? Of what avail would
it be to New York to keep herself out of debt, or,
in contracting obligations, to respect the limits of
her solvency, if she were liable to be involved in the
extravagances which might be committed by any or
by all of the neighbouring communities ?"

ft But this call," I observed, interrupting him,
tc upon the solvent States to assume, in part, the
debts of their confederates, is based upon the supposi
tion that they are each but a component part of one
great country."

" And so they are," replied he, " for certain pur
poses,, but not for all. A, B and C unite in copart
nership, for the avowed purpose of manufacturing
certain kinds of goods, but for none other. If the ob
jects of the copartnership are published to the world,
it would be unreasonable to hold that they were
bound together for purposes not specified amongst
these objects. In any transaction connected with the
business of the firm, any one of the partners can bind
all the rest. But in transactions notoriously alien to
the business of the firm, it is not competent for any
one partner to bind his fellows ; and any one giving him
credit in such transactions, does so upon his own sole
responsibility. Should the security of the individual
fail in such a case, the creditor would be laughed at
who would call upon the firm to liquidate the debt.
And so it is with the Federal Union. The States of
which it is composed are bound together in a political
relationship, for certain specified objects, and for
none but such as are specified. To carry these out,
certain powers are conferred upon them in their
federal and partnership capacity. The power to

THE WESTERN WORLD. 27

borrow money for local purposes is not one of these ;
and as one State has no power to borrow money for
another, nor all the States together for one State,
there is but little justice in calling upon one State
to pay the debts of another, or on all the States to
pay the debts of any one or more which may be in
default. There is this difference, too, between the
Union and a common partnership, that whereas in
the latter one member of the firm can bind all, pro
vided the transaction be within the objects of the
partnership ; in the former, it is competent to no one
State to bind the rest, even in matters common to all
the States, and within the purview of the objects for
which they are united. In such case it is the general
government alone that can be dealt with, as the sole
agent and representative of the Union. If any one
gives credit to it, the Union, that is to say all the States,
are responsible ; but when credit is extended to a
particular State, it is to that State alone that the
creditor can justly look for his reimbursement."

"I am aware," said I, "that the objects for the
accomplishment of which the money was borrowed-*
were matters within the exclusive control of the in
debted States themselves ; and that^ therefore, the
credit could only have been given exclusively to them.
But you must admit that the line of demarcation
between local and federal powers, and local and
federal responsibility, is not very generally under
stood in Europe."

" But," replied he, " there is no reason why the
inhabitants of Delaware, which owes nothing, or of
New York, which .pays what it owes, should pay the
penalty of the ignorance, real or assumed, of the
money-lenders in Europe, who chose to deal, without
c2

28 THE WESTERN WORLD

their knowledge, or without getting their security,
with the State of Mississippi. The terms and con
ditions of the federal compact are no secret. They
have been patent to the world for the last sixty
years. What more could be done to give them pub
licity than has been done ? When a State goes into
the money-market to borrow, she does not do so
under the shelter of a secret or ambiguous deed of
copartnership, by which the money-lender may be
deceived, but as a member of a confederacy, bound
together by a well-known instrument, which noto
riously confers no power upon her in borrowing
money to pledge the credit of any of her confederates.
The States of Germany are knit together in one
federal union for certain purposes, but their common
responsibilities terminate when the limits of these
purposes are reached. The borrowing of money for
local purposes is not one of the objects of the
German Confederation. Would it be competent,
then, for an English capitalist who had lent money to
Saxony, which she omitted to return him, to call
upon Austria or Bavaria to make good his loss ? And
the same with the American Union. The powers
and responsibilities of the States are, or should be,
as well known to the capitalist as those of the States
of the German Confederation. And in truth, there
is reason to believe that they were well known when
the money was advanced, and that the plea of igno
rance is a sham plea, preferred more to move the
sympathies than to appeal to the justice of the other
States. He who lent, then, to Mississippi or Illinois,
on the sole responsibility of Mississippi or Illinois,
has obviously no claim in law, or in equity, against
any State but Mississippi or Illinois. If he lent on

THE WESTERN WORLD. 29

what he considered at the time a doubtful security,
in the hope that, should that security fail him, the
other States, which had no knowledge of, or benefit
from, the transaction, would either be moved by
compassion to save him harmless, or shamed by a
false cry into so doing, his conduct was not such as
would bear the test of a rigid scrutiny. Such a
course is as questionable as lending to a man of
doubtful credit, on the speculative security of his
numerous friends."

" On this point," I observed, " I can find no flaw
in the argument which you advance. It is obvious
that, when a man lends money upon a particular
security, he cannot afterwards look for its repayment
to parties whom he could not have legally or morally
contemplated as involved in the benefits or responsi
bilities of the transaction at the time of its occurrence.
Besides, if one State was liable for the debts of
another, it should have some control over the ex
penditure of the other. And when we consider that
one State borrows money for the construction of
works, which, when in operation, will injuriously
affect similar works in another, it would be especially
hard were that other to be held answerable for its
default. And so with the general Government. It has
no control over local expenditure; and it would be
monstrous, therefore, to make it responsible for local
liabilities. But if I mistake not, the project of the
general Government assuming the State debts has
found much favour even in this country."

" It has," replied he, " though not as a matter of
right, but simply as one of expediency. The general
credit was affected by the misconduct of a few of the
members of the Union, and to rescue all from an
odium that justly attached but to the few, the propo-

30 THE WESTERN WORLD.

sition you allude to was made. But the proposition
was, not so much in its principle, as in its incidents,
one to which the solvent and unindebted States could
not agree ; the consideration for which the assump
tion was to be made being one in which they were
as much interested as the insolvent States themselves.
They could not, therefore, consent to a proposal which
would have virtually taxed them to pay a portion
of the debt of the delinquents. It has thus, for the
present, been abandoned, and it is to be hoped that
ere it is again mooted, the defaulting States will be
restored to solvency."

Our conversation, which embraced the whole sub
ject, and of which this is but an epitome, was here
interrupted by our approach to Natches. My mind
continued for some time to dwell upon the subject,
which the more I learnt regarding it, I was the
more convinced was misunderstood. To involve the
whole Confederacy in the crimes or misfortunes of a
few of its members is obviously unjust. It is but fail-
that a wide discrimination should be made between
the guilty and the innocent. This can only be done
by taking the States separately, and dealing out our
judgments in regard to each, according to the posi
tion in which we find it. And, in applying this
rule, let us bear in mind that they are divisible into
four classes. In the first, Mississippi is alone com
prehended; for she alone has repudiated, although
she has not been so graceless as to do so without all
excuse. The second comprehends the few States
whose treasuries have been bankrupt, but none of
which have ever repudiated their obligations. Some
of these have resumed payment, and are once more
in a state of perfect solvency. In the third class
are embraced the majority of the States, and such

THE WESTERN WORLD. 31

as have ever been solvent, neither repudiating the
claims against them, nor omitting to pay them.
The fourth class comprises the few States which are
so fortunate as to be entirely free from public debt.
And when the European talks of the American
people doing justice to the public creditor — meaning
thereby that the whole Union should saddle itself
with the debts of a few of its members, contracted
with, the knowledge of their creditors, upon their
own sole responsibility — he should remember that
there is justice also on the other side, and that the
people of Delaware and North Carolina, who owe
nothing, and those of New York and other States
who are paying what they do owe, cannot, with any
degree of propriety, be called upon to bear the bur
den of transactions entered into by others for their
sole benefit, and to which they alone were parties.
There is but little either of morality or justice in
seeking to involve parties in the responsibility of
transactions with which they have had nothing what
ever to do.

And in dispensing blame to the parties really
deserving it, it is not always to the inculpated States
that we are to confine our censure. What injured
them was precipitate speculation. This is promoted
as much by the capitalist as by the borrower, and in
many cases more so. The time was when nothing
but a foreign investment would satisfy the English
capitalist. A home or a colonial speculation stunk
in his nostrils; nothing but that which was foreign
would satisfy him. The foreigner seeing an open
hand with a full purse in it extended to him, was
tempted to grasp at it, and his appetite for specula
tion was quickened by the ease with which he obtained

32 THE WESTERN WORLD.

the means of pandering to it. At this very time our
magnificent colonies in North America were demand
ing accommodation, but could not procure it. The
six per cent, which they modestly offered, was refused
for the seven, eight, and ten per cent, offered by the
neighbouring States, which by the very favouritism
thus shown them were encouraged to endeavour to out
run each other in their mad career. They are truly to
be pitied who, having had no hand in the original
transactions, are now the innocent holders of the bonds
•which have been repudiated, or which remain unpaid.
But they can only justly look for their indemnity to
the security on which they were contented to rely,
without seeking to involve others in their misfortunes
who are as innocent as themselves.

Credit has been described as a plant of tender
growth, which the slightest breath may shrivel. There
is no doubt but that the conduct of some of its mem
bers occasioned a severe shock to the credit of the
whole Union. For a time all the States were treated
as if, without exception, they had been involved in a
common delinquency. But this injustice did not last
long, and the solvent States are being gradually rein
stated in their former credit and position. And even
now, as permanent investments, many, and not with
out reason, regard American securities as preferable
to all others. The credit of the general Govern
ment is at present much more in vogue than that of
any of the States ; but as permanent investments, the
securities of the States are to be preferred to those
of the general Government. Should the Union fall
to pieces, the general Government will be extin
guished in the crash, but the States will preserve
their identity whatever may become of the Confede-

THE WESTERN tVOKLD. 33

ration. And notwithstanding the stigma which for
some time has unfortunately attached to her name,
there is no State in the Union which can offer greater
inducements to permanent investment than Pennsyl
vania. Her resources are greater and more varied
than those of any of her confederates, and her future
wealth will depend upon their development. What
these resources are in their extent and their variety,
and how far her position is such as will necessarily
call them into speedy and active requisition, will
be inquired into in a subsequent chapter.

At Natches, which is one of the largest and most
prosperous towns in the State, and situated mainly
on a high bluff overlooking the river, we remained
but a sufficient time to land and to receive passen
gers, and to take in a fresh supply of fuel and pro
visions. We had already stopped at several road-side
stations, as they might be called, for the purpose of
replenishing our stock of wood, the quantity con
sumed by the furnaces being enormous. From
Natches we proceeded towards Vicksburg, also in
the State of Mississippi, and about 106 miles higher
up the river.

The name of this place suggested at once to my
mind a terrible incident, of which some years ago it
was the scene, and which strongly illustrates a very
unfavourable feature of American life in the South
west. The gamblers and blacklegs, who had made
Natches too hot to hold them, made the town of
Vicksburg their head quarters, and as they increased
in numbers, so increased in boldness, and carried
matters with so high a hand, as for a time to terrify
and overawe the more honestly disposed of their
fellow-citizens. The evil at length attained a mag-
c3

34 THE WESTERN WORLD.

nitude which determined the better portion of the
inhabitants at all hazards to put it down ; and as the
law was too weak to reach the ruffians, it being as
difficult to obtain a conviction against them as it is to
get one against a repealer in Ireland, a summary pro
cess of dealing with them was resolved upon. A
number of them were accordingly surprised when
engaged in their nefarious practices, some of whom
escaped in the confusion, leaving about half a dozen
in custody. These were conveyed a short distance
out of the town, and after a summary trial and con
viction by Lynch law, were hanged upon the adjacent
trees. Lawless and horrible as this act undoubtedly
was, the terrible vengeance which it inflicted upon a
set of blackguards, who harassed and systematically
annoyed the community, had a salutary effect for a
time; the survivors, if they did not abandon their
practices, paying a little more respect to public opi
nion in their mode of pursuing them. The effects
of the lesson then administered, however, have by
this time pretty well worn off, if one may judge from
the numbers in which the southern portion of the
Mississippi and its tributaries are yet infested by the
vagabonds in question, and the openness with which
they are beginning again to prosecute their iniquitous
vocation.

The excesses thus occasionally committed by the
populace in the South under the designation of Lynch
law, are much to be deplored, although they are almost
necessarily incident to a state of society in which
public opinion is yet weak and but equivocally pro
nounced — in which the law is feebly administered,
and which exists in the midst of circumstances less
favourable than those by which we are surrounded

THE WESTERN WORLD. 35

for the enforcement of public morality, and the due
administration of justice. To those conversant with
the real condition of society in the South-west, the
wonder is not so much that Lynch law has been so
frequently resorted to, as that the ordinary law has
not been more frequently departed from. The popu
lation of the immense areas which bound the Southern
Mississippi on either side is but yet scanty, people
in general living far apart from each other. Add to
this that the war which they are carrying on, each
in his comparatively isolated position, against nature,
has a tendency more or less to bring the civilized
man in his habits, tastes, and impulses, nearer to the
savage, and to impart asperities to the character which
are rubbed off by an every day contact with society.
No position that is not actually one of barbarism,
could be more favourable than that of the western
pioneer to the inculcation of the law of might, his
life being not only a constant warfare with the wilder
ness, but his safety, from the nature of the dangers
with which he is surrounded, chiefly depending upon
his own vigilance and presence of mind. He is thus
daily taught the habit of self-reliance, instead of
looking to society for his security. It is scarcely to
be wondered at that men so circumstanced, and, as it
were, so educated, should occasionally take the law
into their own hands, instead of resorting for justice
to tribunals far apart from them, to reach and attend
which would be accompanied by great loss of time
and money, and which might after all fail in rendering
them justice.

In the Northern and Eastern States the law is
as regularly administered as it is in England, and life
and property are as safe under its protection as they

36 THE WESTERN WORLD.

are in any country within the pale of civilization.
But most of these States have been long settled, the
wilderness in them has been reduced, society has be
come dense, and exists in the midst of all the appli
ances of civilization ; its members can rely upon each
other for support in carrying out the law, and they
prefer the security of society to any that they could
attain for themselves ; and, which is very important,
their tribunals are numerous, respectable, and near at
hand. From a people so situated we are quite right
in exacting a strict conformity to the practices of
civilized life. But when we go further, and exact the
same of the people in the extreme West and South
west, we either forget that they are differently cir
cumstanced, or deny that circumstances have any in
fluence on social and individual life. Transplant to
the regions beyond the Mississippi a colony of the
most polished people, either from Old or New Eng
land, and let them be circumstanced precisely as the
western pioneers are, and how long would they retain
their polish, or be characterised by those amenities,
or exercise that mutual reliance upon each other,
which marked their life and habits in their former
abode ? Bring the polished man in contact with
savage nature, which he is called upon daily to
subdue, that he may obtain his daily bread, and the
one must succumb to the other, or both will undergo
a change. As man civilizes the wilderness, the wil
derness more or less brutalizes him. In thus elevat
ing nature he degrades himself. And thus it is with
the pioneers of civilization in the American wilds.
Generally speaking, they have not had the advantage
of a previous polish. Born and brought up in the
midst of the wilderness, they fly rather than court

THE WESTERN WORLD. 37

the approach of civilization. They care little for the
open fields which their own labour has redeemed ;
they love the recesses of the forest, and regularly
retire before it as population advances upon them.
This hardy belt of pioneers is like the rough bark which
covers and protects the wood, and serves as a shield
under shelter of which the less hardy and adventurous
portions of the community encroach upon the wilder
ness. To expect them rigidly to conform to all the
maxims of civilized life would be but to expect civi
lization to nourish in the lap of barbarism. Even
yet, along the borders of conterminous countries which
we call civilized, how often do we find lawlessness
and violence prevailing to a deplorable extent ! And
is our sense of propriety to be so greatly shocked
when we find them occasionally manifesting them
selves upon the American border, where the domain
of civilization is conterminous with that of the savage,
the buffalo, and the bear ? Every excess committed
in these remote, wild, and thinly peopled regions is
to be discountenanced and deplored; but we should
not visit them with that severity of judgment which
such conduct amongst ourselves would entail upon
those who were guilty of it. As the wilderness dis
appears, and the country becomes cultivated, the
civilization of nature will react beneficially upon
those, or the descendants of those, who were instru
mental in rescuing her from the barbarism in which
she was shrouded; population will become denser
and more refined, and man will rely more upon his
social than his individual resources. When this
occurs, and the portion of the country now considered
is thus brought within the pale of civilization, we
may exact, and exact with justice, from its people a

38 THE WESTERN WOULD.

strict amenability to all the requirements of civilized
life. But before it occurs we should not overlook
their circumstances in dealing with their conduct.
Even in the most civilized communities departures
are sometimes deemed necessary from the ordinary
principles by which society is regulated, and from
the ordinary safeguards by which it is secured. We
need not be surprised if exceptions to general prin
ciples occur where society is as yet but in a state of
formation ; and it may be that, in the semi-civilized
regions of America, the dread tribunal of Judge
Lynch may sometimes be as necessary, as, in civilized
life, are states of siege, and the supersession of the
ordinary tribunals of justice by martial law.

A better order of things is now making its appear
ance along the banks of the lower Mississippi, where
public opinion is fast gaining ground upon the lawless
disturbers of the public peace. In some cases the
carrying of arms is now forbidden — a most prudent
measure, as it frequently happens that to be prepared
for war is the very worst guarantee for peace. Society
is gradually feeling its strength, and once convinced
of it, will know how to take measures for its own
security. The first and worst epoch in its history is
past. It has survived a perilous infancy, and is now
advancing to maturity ; and the moral aberrations of
which, in its youth, it may have been guilty, may
yet be to it as the complicated diseases of childhood
are to the boy, in preparing him for becoming the
healthy man.

CHAPTER II.

THE VALLEY OF MISSISSIPPI. AGRICULTURE AND

AGRICULTURAL INTEREST OF THE UNITED STATES.

Yicksburg.— The Walnut Hills. — The Arkansas and the Tennessee.
— Yariety of Craft met with upon the Eiver. — Difference between
the two Banks. — Memphis. — Posthumous adventures of Picayune
Walker. — Conversations on Slavery. — A Eace. — Days and Nights
on the Elver. — The Mouth of the Ohio. — Change of Scene. — St.
Louis. — Who are the Yankees? — Description of St. Louis. — Its
Commercial Advantages and Prospects. — The American Prairie.
— Agriculture and Agricultural Interest of America. — Five great
Classes of Productions. — Five great Eegions corresponding to them.
— The Pasturing Eegion. — The Wheat and Tobacco growing Ee
gions. — The Cotton and Sugar Eegions.— Cost at which Wheat
can be raised on Prairie land. — The surplus Agricultural Pro
ducts of America.

ON leaving Vicksburg, which is charmingly situated
on a high sloping bank, formed by the bluffs into
what appears to be a series of natural terraces, which
render it much more accessible than Natches, we
steamed rapidly up the river, having as yet, although
about four hundred miles from New Orleans, accom
plished but one-third of our journey. The Walnut
hills, which come rolling down to the water's edge
immediately above Vicksburg, are exceedingly pic
turesque, mantled as they are to the top in a rich
covering of grass and foliage. Beyond them the
right bank sinks again, and presents to the eye, for

40 THE WESTERN WORLD.

many miles, an unbroken succession of extensive and
flourishing cotton plantations.

We soon left the State of Mississippi behind us,
and had that of Tennessee on our right, and for some
distance Arkansas on our left. Both these States are
named from the chief rivers flowing through them to
swell the volume of the Mississippi, the Arkansas di
rectly, the Tennessee indirectly, by uniting with the
Ohio. Both streams are upwards of 1,200 miles long,
and navigable to steamers for hundreds of miles. The
Arkansas, like the Red River, rises in the Rocky
Mountains, and after flowing in a south-easterly
direction through the State to which it gives its
name, enters the Mississippi on its west bank. We
had already passed the junction on our left, as we
had also the mouths of several other rivers entering
on the same side, which in Europe would be con
sidered first-class streams.

It is almost impossible to describe the variety of
craft which we met upon the river. We passed and
saluted steamers innumerable, generally crowded with
passengers. Others were so overloaded with cotton-
bales, as to present more the appearance and propor
tions of a long hay-rick than of any other known
terrestrial object. There were flat boats innumerable,
precipitous at the sides, and quite square at either
end, sometimes with an apology for a sail hoisted
upon them, and sometimes with an oar out on either
side to help them to drop down with the strong
heavy current. It is not many years since this was
the only craft known on the Mississippi, being con
structed with sufficient strength to bear the voyage
down, for they never attempt the re-ascent of the
stream. When they have served their purpose, on

THE WESTERN "WOULD. 41

reaching their destination they are broken up, and
the materials disposed of to the best advantage.
Before the introduction of steamers, travellers had
to ascend into the interior by land. Then again we
would meet a family emigrating from one part of the
valley to another, by dropping down in a rudely con
structed barge, which would yet be broken up arid
converted into a hut or " shanty " on shore. There
were floating cabins too, which would only have to be
dragged ashore on reaching their destination. And
then came floating " stores," containing calicos,
cloths, pots, pans, groceries and household wares of
all descriptions, — the pedlars of these regions very
wisely conforming themselves to the nature of their
great highways. And instead of caravans, as with
us, upon wheels, there were shows and exhibitions of
all kinds afloat, in some of which Macbeth was per
formed, Duncan being got rid of by throwing him
into the river instead of stabbing him. Here and
there too, a solitary canoe and small boat would cross
our track, as would also occasionally a raft, some of
the timber constituting which may have been pur
chased, but all of which the raftsmen undoubtedly
intended to sell. In short, it was a source of amuse
ment to us to watch the varied and generally un
shapely contrivances in the way of craft, many of
them laden with live stock, which the " Father of
waters " bore upon his bosom.

All the way from Baton Rouge, in Louisiana, the
scenery on our right was more or less varied by gentle
undulations, sometimes attaining the dignity of hills ;
whilst the river, with occasional gaps, some of which
extended for many miles, was lined by a succession of
bluffs, whose different heights and forms gave con-

42 THE WESTERN WORLD.

stant novelty to the scene. In some places they rose
over the water for several hundreds of feet, a low
ledge of land generally intervening, where they were
highest, between them and the river. It is on these
ledges that the lower portions of the chief towns on
this bank are built. The cliffs, when the water is in
direct contact with them, are soon worn away beneath,
when the superincumbent mass gives way, forming
the ledges in question. These again are in time
washed away by the river, when the cliffs are again
attacked, and with the same result. The cliffs con
tinue, with more or less interruption, nearly the
whole of the way up to the Ohio. Being generally
formed of clay or sand, they are in some places
washed by the rains and moulded by the winds into
the most fantastic forms, sometimes resembling feudal
castles pitched upon inaccessible rocks, and at others
being as irregular and grotesque as a splintered ice
berg. Very different is the character of the other
bank. The whole way from New Orleans up to the
mouth of the Ohio, it is, with a few trifling excep
tions, one unbroken, unmitigated and monotonous flat.
On both sides the land is extremely rich, the cane
brake and cypress swamp, however, being frequent
features on the west. There are many " Edens " on
this side of the river ; but the general character of the
soil upon it, from the delta to its sources, is of the
most fertile description, the spots unfit for human
habitation being rare exceptions to the rule. At
regular distances are wood stations, on projecting
points of land, the wood being obtained from the
forest behind, cut upon the spot by negroes, and
corded and ready to be taken on board as fuel by the
steamers as they pass. The river on this side being

THE WESTERN WORLD. 43

in contact with the very soil, which is soft and al
luvial, its greatest encroachments are made upon this
bank. You sometimes pass groves of trees which a
few years ago had stood inland, with their roots now
half exposed, and themselves ready to fall into the
water, some to drift out to sea, and others to become
snags, and render perilous the navigation of the river.
Now and then, too, you make up with groups of
cypresses and palmettos, festooned with Spanish moss;
and sometimes with clumps of the Pride of China,
with wild vines clinging to their trunks and branches.
Here and there also you see, overhanging the stream,
the wreck of what was once a noble forest tree, now
leafless and barkless, holding out its stiif and naked
arms ghastlily in the sun, telling a mournful tale to
the passer-by — the blanched and repulsive skeleton of
that which was once a graceful form of life. "Were
the east bank similar to the west, the Mississippi
would, in a scenic point of view, be to the traveller
dreary enough.

As you ascend it you still find the river pursuing
the same serpentine course as below. The bends are
not so great, but quite as consecutive, it being seldom
that the stream is found pursuing a straight course
for many miles together. We could discern on either
side, as we proceeded, many traces of deserted chan
nels ; and some of these are to be seen in parts from
thirty to forty miles from the present course of the
stream.

As we approached the town of Memphis in the
State of Tennessee, the bluffs on the right became
more consecutive, loftier, and more imposing in their
effect. Near the town they are in parts almost as
continuous as, though higher and of a darker colour

44 THE WESTERN WORLD.

than, the cliffs in the neighbourhood of Ramsgate ;
whilst roads are here and there cut through them
down to the water's edge, like the deep artificial
gullies which are so numerous along the Foreland.
Memphis is situated on the top of a very high bluff,
so that part of the town only can be seen from the
river. There is a small group of houses below the
cliff at the landing-place, where several steamers were
lying as we approached. In addition to this Memphis
in Tennessee, and that which is or was in Egypt,
there is another Memphis in Mississippi, a propos to
which I overheard in New Orleans the following
story told by one negro to another : —

" You come from Miss'sippi, don't you, Ginger ? "
said the narrator, who was a fine negro and had been
in the North.

" To be sure I do, Sam," said Ginger.

" I tell you what it is then, you have no chance no
how comin' from that State."

" What are you drivin' at ? " asked Ginger.

" Isn't that the repoodiatin' State ?" demanded Sam.

" To be sure," said Ginger, " but it was'nt the
coloured folks, it was the white men did it."

" Well, you may have a chance if you die in
Loosian}', but don't die in Miss'sippi if you can help
it," said Sam in a confidential tone.

"I won't die no where if I can help it," was
Ginger's response.

" Did you know Picayune Walker, who lived to
Memphis ? " asked Sam.

" Know'd him well," said Ginger, " but him dead
now."

" Well," said Sam, " I was to Cincinnati when he
died. De Sunday after I went to meetin'. De

THE WESTERN WORLD. 45

color'd gem man who was preachin' tell us that
Picayune Walker, when he die, went up to heaben
and ask Peter to let him in. ' Who's dat knockin'
at de door ? ' said Peter. ' It's me, to be sure ; don't
you know a gemman when you see him ? ' said Picky.
' How should I know you ? ' said Peter, ' what's your
name ? ' < Picayune Walker,' he said. « Well Massa
Walker, what you want ? ' Peter then ask. ( I want
to get in, to be sure,' said Picky. ' Where you from,
Massa Walker?' den ask Peter. * From Memphis,'
said Picky. < In Tennessee ? ' ask Peter. « No,
Memphis Miss'sippi,' said Massa Walker. ( O, den
you may come in,' said Peter, a openin' o' de dore ;
( you'll be somethin' new for 'em to look at, it's so
long since any one 's been here from Miss'sippi.' "

" Him berry lucky for a white man from dat 'ere
State," was Ginger's only remark.

On leaving Memphis, I had a long conversation
with a southerner on board, on the subject of slavery.
Nothing can be more erroneous than the opinion
entertained and promulgated by many, that this is a
forbidden topic of conversation in the South. I never
had the least ( hesitation in expressing myself freely
on the subject in any of the Southern States, when
ever an opportunity offered of adverting to it ; nor did
I find the southerners generally anxious to elude it.
Much depends upon the mode in which it is intro
duced and treated. There are some so garrulous that
they must constantly be referring to it, and in a
manner offensive to the feelings of those to whom it
is introduced. It cannot be denied but that the
suicidal and over-zealous conduct of the abolitionists
has made the Southerners somewhat sensitive upon
the subject ; and they are not very likely to listen

46 THE WESTERN WOULD.

with complacency to one who, in discussing it, mani
fests the spirit and intentions of a propagandist. But
if calmly and temperately dealt with, there are few
in the South who will shrink from the discussion of
it ; and you find, when it is the topic of discourse,
that the only point at issue between you is as to the
means of its eradication.

Having strolled with Mr. D towards the prow

of the boat, I found myself close to where some
negroes were busily at work attending to the furnaces.
Having replenished them, they set themselves down
upon the huge blocks of wood which constituted their
fuel, and rubbed the perspiration off their faces,
which were shining with it as if they had been steeped
in oil.

" See de preacher dat come aboard when we were
a woodin' up at Memphis ? " asked one named Jim of
another who answered to the imperial name of Caesar.

Caesar replied in the affirmative, pouting his huge
lips, and demanding of Jim to know if he thought
that he Caesar was blind.

" He just marry a rich wife to Memphis, de lady
wid him," said Jim, disregarding the interrogatory.

" Dey all do de same," observed Caesar. " Dey
keep a preachin' to oders not to mind de flesh pots,
but it's only to grab de easier at dem demselves."

" Pile on de wood, Jim," continued Caesar, noticing
that the furnaces were once more getting low. In a
few seconds their ponderous iron doors were again
closed, and they blazed and roared and crackled over
the fresh fuel with which they were supplied.

" What you sayin' about Massa Franklin few
minutes ago ? " asked Jim as soon as they were again
seated.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 47

" Dat he took fire from heaben," replied Caasar.

" From de oder place more like," said Jim in a
tone of ignorant incredulity.

Caesar thereupon rolled his eyes about for a few
seconds, and looked the caricature of offended dignity.
" Will you never larn nothin' ? " said he at last,
regarding his companion with contemptuous pity.

" Well, how did he do it ? " asked Jim.

" Wid a kite to be sure," said Csesar, getting very
unnecessarily into a passion. Jim still looked pro-
vokingly incredulous. " I tell you, wid a kite," con
tinued Csesar, hoping to make himself more intelligible
by repetition.

" But how wid a kite ? " asked Jim, making bold to
put the query.

" Don't you see yet ? " said Caesar ; " he tied a
locofoco match to it afore he sent it up, to be sure."

" Ah ! " ejaculated Jim, getting new light upon
the subject, " and lighted it at de sun, didn't he ? "

" He couldn't get at de sun, for I told you afore it
was cloudy, didn't I ? 'r observed Caesar.

"Well den, how light de match?" asked Jim,
fairly puzzled,

" De cloud rub agin it," said Caasar, with the air
of one conscious of imparting to another a great
secret. But his equanimity was again disturbed by
the painful thought of his companion's obtusity, and
when he called upon him once more to " pile on de
wood," it was in connexion with a friendly intimation
to him that he was " only fit to be a brack man."

At this moment an ejaculation of " Mind your fires
there ! " proceeded from the captain, who had ap
proached, and was now standing on the promenade
deck between the funnels, and looking anxiously

48 THE WESTERN WORLD.

forward at some object in advance of us. On turning
to ascertain what it was, I perceived a steamer which
had left Memphis on its way up to Louisville about
ten minutes before we did. She was going at half
speed when I first observed her, but immediately put
all steam on. I at once divined what was to take
place. The firemen seemed instinctively to under
stand it, as they immediately redoubled their efforts to
cram the furnaces with fuel. By the time we were
abreast of the " Lafayette," for that was our rival's
name, she had regained her full headway, and the
race commenced with as fair a start as could well be
obtained. Notwithstanding the known dangers of
such rivalry, the passengers on both boats crowded
eagerly to the quarter-deck to witness the progress of
the race, each group cheering as its own boat seemed
to be leading the other by ever so little. By this
time the negroes became almost frantic in their
efforts to generate the steam ; so much so that at one
time I thought that from throwing wood into the
furnaces, they would have taken to throwing in one
another. But a short time before upwards of two
hundred human beings had been hurried into eternity
by the explosion of a boiler ; but the fearful incident
seemed for the moment to be forgotten, or its warn
ings to be disregarded, in the eagerness with which
passengers and crew pressed forward to witness the
race. I must confess I yielded to the infection, and
was as anxious a spectator of the contest as any on
board. There were a few timid elderly gentlemen
and ladies who kept aloof ; but with this exception,
the captain of each boat had the moral strength of
his cargo with him. For many minutes the two
vessels kept neck and neck, and so close to each

THE WESTERN WORLD. 49

other, that an explosion on board either would have
calamitously affected the other. At length, and when
there still appeared to be no probability of a speedy
decision, I perceived a reaction commencing amongst
those around me, and on the name of the " Helen
McGregor " and the " Moselle," two ill-fated boats,
being whispered amongst them, many retired to the
stern, as far from the boilers as they could, whilst
others began to remonstrate, and even to menace.

" How can I give in ? " asked the captain, in a tone
of vexation.

" Run him on that 'ere snag, and be d d to

him," suggested the mate, who was standing by.

The snag was about two hundred yards ahead,
just showing his black crest above the water. It was
the trunk of a huge tree, the roots of which had sunk
and taken hold of the soil at the bottom ; about eight
inches of the trunk, which lay in a direction slanting
with the current, projecting above the surface. From
the position which they thus assume snags are more
dangerous to steamers ascending than to those de
scending the current. In the latter case, they may
press them under and glide safely over them ; but in
the former, the chances are, if they strike, that they
will be perforated by them, and sunk. They are the
chief sources of danger in navigating the Mississippi.
The captain immediately took the hint, and so shaped
his course as to oblige the rival boat to sheer off
a little to the right. This brought her in a direct
line with the snag, to avoid which she had to make a
sharp, though a short detour. It sufficed, however, to
decide the race, the " Niobe " immediately gaining on
the " Lafayette " by more than a length. The latter,
thus fairly jockeyed out of her object, gave up the

VOL. III. D

,50 THE WESTERN WORLD.

contest and dropped astern. There are certainly laws
against this species of racing ; but the Mississippi
runs through so many jurisdictions that it is not easy
to put them in force. Besides, it was evident to me.
from what I then saw, that, in most cases, passengers
and crew are equally participes criminis.

We had now been upwards of three days and three
nights upon the river, which had varied but little
in width, apparent volume, or general appearance,
since we first made the bluffs at Baton Rouge. It
was curious to awake every morning upon a scene
resembling in everything but a few of its minute
details that on which you had closed your eyes the
previous night, and with a consciousness that you were
still afloat upon the same stream ; and that, whilst
asleep, you had not been at rest, but steaming the
entire night against the current, at the rate of from
eight to ten miles per hour.

Towards the close of the fifth day we were coasting
the low shore of Kentucky on our right, with the
State of Missouri on our left; and early on the morn
ing of the sixth, were off the mouth of the Ohio. As
we crossed the spacious embouchure, there was one
steamer from St. Louis, turning into the Ohio, to
ascend it to Pittsburg, 900 miles up ; and another,
which had descended it from Cincinnati, just leaving
it, and heading down the Mississippi for New Orleans,
one thousand miles below. No incident could have
occurred better fitted to impress the mind with the
vastness of these great natural highways, and their
utility to the enormous region which they fertilize
and irrigate. The Ohio enters the Mississippi on its
east bank, between the States of Kentucky and
v Illinois, and about 1,100 miles from its mouth.

THE WESTERN WOELD. 51

St. Louis is 200 miles further up the Mississippi, on
the opposite or Missouri bank. In passing the Ohio,
we were for a few minutes in clear and limpid water,
quite a contrast, in this respect, to the turgid and
muddy volume with which it mingled. Several
buckets were let down by the crew, and many pas
sengers took the opportunity of regaling themselves
with a draft of pure water. The Mississippi water,
turgid though it be, is not considered unwholesome,
and those long accustomed to it prefer it to any-
other. Opposite the northern bank of the Ohio, the
line where the two currents mingle is distinctly
traceable for some distance into the Mississippi. The
scenery at the confluence is characteristic, and the
country on all hands surpassingly rich.

Immediately above the Ohio, the scene underwent
a considerable change. The Illinois shore on the
right was not without its share of bluffs ; but the
greatest number for the rest of the way to St. Louis,
as also the loftiest and most imposing on the river,
were now on the west bank. Not far from St. Louis
they exhibit themselves in a curious succession of
architectural resemblances.

Early on the morning of the seventh day, having
escaped snags, explosions, alligators, and all the other
perils, real and fabulous, of the Mississippi, we
reached the city of St. Louis, having thus accom
plished an inland journey upon one and the same
stream of 1,200 miles.

" Take care of him ; he's a Yankee, and hasn't
come here from New York for nothin' ; " was a piece
of advice, in reference to some unknown entity, which
I overheard one passenger give to another, as v/e were
stepping ashore.

52 THE WESTERN WORLD.

" In England," I observed to Mr. D , " we

are accustomed to apply the term Yankee to Ame
ricans generally ; and it seems rather odd to me to
hear one American apply the epithet to another, in a
tone which seemed to imply that he did not come
under the designation himself."

" Here," said Mr. D , in explanation, " they

call all Yankees who come from the North. But if
you ask a New Yorker who are the Yankees, he will
refer you to New England. In many parts of New
England, again, you will be referred to Boston, as
their locus in quo, but the Bostonians decline the
honour of harbouring them, and refer you to the
rural districts of New Hampshire. And without
entering into nice distinctions as to what constitutes
a Yankee, there is no doubt that it is in the last-
mentioned localities that the most genuine specimens
are to be found."

St. Louis is a most striking town as seen from the
river. The ground on which it is built slopes gently
up from the water, its flatter portion being occupied
by the business part of the town which adjoins the
quays. For some distance the river is lined with
piles of lofty and massive store warehouses, indi
cating the existence of an extensive " heavy busi
ness." The wharves are thronged with craft of dif
ferent kinds, but from the inland position of the
town the steamers greatly predominate. The city is
handsomely built, chiefly of brick ; and for comfort,
elegance, and general accommodation, few establish
ments in the United States can compare with the
Planter's Hotel, in which we took up our quarters.
The principal streets run parallel with the river,
being rectangularly intersected by others which run

THE WESTERN WOULD. 53

back from it. The country behind it is rich and
picturesque, whilst. its river prospect is imposing,
both from the character of the foreground, and the
bold sweeping lines of the Illinois bank opposite.
Within its precincts, particularly about the quays,
and in Front and First streets, it presents a picture
of bustle, enterprise, and activity; whilst on every
hand the indications of rapid progress are as numerous
as they are striking.

The site occupied by St. Louis is on the west bank
of the Mississippi, and about twenty miles below the
entrance of the Missouri into it. Twenty miles
above that again, the Illinois, after pursuing a course
of many hundred miles, enters the Mississippi on its
east bank. The junction of the Ohio, opening up a
pathway eastward to the Allegany mountains, is, as
we have already seen, but 200 miles below ; and the
Mississippi itself, before passing the city, has pur
sued a southerly course of about 1,700 miles from
the neighbourhood of the Great Lakes. A still fur
ther run in the same direction of 1,300 miles brings
it to the Gulf.

The advantageous nature of its position, as thus
indicated, renders St. Louis a place of very great
commercial importance. It occupies as it were the
central point, from which the great natural highways
of the Union diverge in different directions. The
different radii which spring from it bring it in con
tact with a vast circumference. The Missouri con
nects it with the Rocky Mountains, the Ohio with
the Alleganies, the upper Mississippi with the Great
Lakes, the lower with the ocean. It is destined soon
to become the greatest internal entrepot of trade in
the country. From their different positions, they

54 THE WESTERN WORLD.

never can become rivals, but St. Louis will always be
the greatest auxiliary to New Orleans. Except this
latter city, there is but one other (Cincinnati) in
advance of it in the valley, and but few years will
elapse ere, with the same exception, it becomes the
greatest city west of the Alleganies. In 1830 its
population did not much exceed 5,000 souls. In 1845
it numbered 34,000, being an increase of nearly
sevenfold in fifteen years ! Said I not that, on every
hand, it was replete with the indications of rapid
development ?

Should the seat of the general government ever
be transferred from Washington, St. Louis has long
been looked to as its successor in metropolitan
honours. But Washington is now so accessible from
most parts of the Union, and will soon be so from
all, by means of railways and steamers, that the
transfer is not likely to be made. Should, how
ever, the improbable event occur, of the separation
of the valley, with all the States which it includes,
from the sea-board, St. Louis would infallibly become
the capital of the Western confederacy. The num
ber of steamboat arrivals at it in the course of a year,
from the Missouri, the Illinois, the Ohio, and the
different portions of the Mississippi, already exceeds
fifteen hundred !

In the neighbourhood of St. Louis are some of the
finest specimens of the American prairie. It would
be erroneous to suppose that it is only in this quarter
that one meets with these singular manifestations of
nature in one of her wildest moods. The prairie is
to be seen in Alabama and Mississippi, in parts of
Louisiana, Tennessee, and Kentucky, in Arkansas,
Missouri, Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana. It is, how-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 55

ever, on the west banks of the Mississippi that prairies
most abound, particularly in the States of Arkansas,
Missouri, and Iowa. North of the Ohio they are
also to be met with in great numbers and of vast
extent, the prairies of Illinois being equal in gran
deur and extent to any on the opposite side, with
the exception, perhaps, of some of those on the Mis
souri River, some hundreds of miles above its junction
with the Mississippi. Those in the neighbourhood
of St. Louis, although not remarkable for their
extent, give a good idea of them all. In some cases
they seem boundless as the ocean, nothing being visible
to break the monotonous surface of long waving grass
with which they are covered to the very horizon.
They are generally interspersed, however, with wood
land or solitary clumps of trees, which, particularly
where the surface is broken and undulating, as is the
case in the country directly north of the Missouri,
give them a very picturesque aspect. When the
wind sweeps over them the effect is magnificent ; the
grass bending beneath its tread and undulating like
the waves of the green sea. Though not in all cases,
they are frequently covered during the summer with
wild flowers, successive generations of which, for
several months, enamel their surface ; some of these
flowers being small and modest, and others, the
great majority, large, flaunting, and arrayed in the
most gorgeous tints. But like the brilliantly plu-
maged birds of America, which have no song in
them, these gaudy prairie flowers have seldom any
perfume. I can conceive no greater treat to the
florist than to find himself by the margin of an
American prairie when thus attired in the gayest
robes of summer. They are cleared by burning the

56 THE WESTERN WORLD.

grass upon them when it becomes withered and dry.
When the fire thus created spreads over a large sur
face, the effect at night is grand in the extreme.
When the wind is high the flames spread with fearful
rapidity, rather against than with it, fuel being most
plentifully provided for them in this direction by the
long grass being bent over the fire. These fires are
frequently accidental, and sometimes do great damage
to settlers. Instances have occurred in which trapping
parties have had the utmost difficulty in saving them
selves from the hot pursuit; the plan now resorted to
for safety by those who find themselves in the midst
of a burning prairie being to take up a position at
any spot, and cut the grass for some distance around
them, the fire when it makes up with them taking
the circuit of the cleared spot, and thus leaving them
scatheless, but uniting again after it passes them into
one long zigzag belt of flame, licking up everything
that is combustible in its course.

Before leaving the Mississippi valley, it may be as
well to take a rapid glance at the agriculture and
agricultural interest of America. In doing so I have
no intention of entering into a disquisition upon
practical farming ; my sole object being to give the
reader, from this the capital of the chief agricultural
region of the country, a bird's-eye view of this all-
important branch of American industry.

In the broadest sense of the term, the agricultural
products of America comprise wheat, Indian corn,
rice, barley, rye, oats, cotton, tobacco, potatoes, tur
nips, flax, hemp, sugar, indigo, fruit, and grasses of
all kinds. To these may be added live stock, which
are to all intents and purposes, an agricultural pro
duct. The different products here enumerated are

THE WESTERN WORLD. 57

by no means indiscriminately indigenous to the whole
country. They may be grouped into five great classes
— pasturage, wheat and other bread stuffs, tobacco,
rice and cotton, and sugar ; and the country divided
into five great regions corresponding to this classifica
tion, each region being more particularly adapted
than the others for a particular class of productions.
We have thus the pasturage region, the wheat re
gion, and the tobacco, cotton, and sugar regions.

It is in the New England States that we find pas
turage carried on to the greatest extent in America.
Not but that there are other districts in the United
States, particularly west of the Mississippi, eminently
adapted for it; but that the greater part of New
England is, in an agricultural point of view, adapted
for little else. The soil is generally light and rocky ;
and although wheat is raised to a considerable extent
along the borders of the stream, and in some of the
valleys, such as that of the Connecticut, on the whole
the growth of bread stuffs is but scanty in New Eng
land. Live stock, however, is raised in great abund
ance, the horses and horned cattle of New England
being reckoned the best in the country. Numerous
flocks of sheep also find pasture on the hills ; and
swine are bred to a very great extent, although not
so much so as in Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee.
It was the presence of capital, and good water power,
together with the absence of any very great demand
for agricultural labour in New England, that con
stituted it the chief seat of American manufacture.

The region peculiarly adapted for the produce of
wheat and other bread stuffs is by far the largest of
the five, comprehending fully one half of the entire
area of the Union. Within it are included the States
of New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware,

D3

58 THE WESTERN WORLD.

Maryland, Ohio, Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee,
Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Iowa, and Wisconsin.
The wheat-growing region is thus comprehended
within about ten degrees of latitude ; the line beyond
which it will not grow, to the north, being as low
down as latitude forty-five degrees, whilst south of
latitude thirty-five degrees it is not profitable to
raise it. But between these two parallels it can be
raised with little labour and in abundance, from the
Atlantic to the eastern limit of the desert, which
separates the broad belt of fertile land which lies
immediately west of the Mississippi from the Rocky
Mountains. But although wheat may be profitably
raised, with a few trivial exceptions, throughout the
whole of this vast area, it does not follow that it is
the product best adapted in all cases for its soil
and climate. In almost every portion of New York,
Pennsylvania, Delaware, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois,
Wisconsin, throughout most of Iowa, in Northern
Missouri, and in a part of Maryland and Virginia, it
may be cultivated with more profit than any other
species of produce; but in portions of Missouri,
Iowa, and Virginia, and throughout almost the whole
of Kentucky and Tennessee, except where tobacco is
raised, Indian corn is the product cultivated to most
advantage. In the two last mentioned States par
ticularly, as well as in Ohio to a very great extent,
this grain is raised, not only for human food, but to
feed swine upon, which are slaughtered in myriads
at particular seasons of the year, salted and exported,
either to the distant markets of the Union, or the
still more distant marts of the foreign world. Barley
and rye flourish well throughout most of this region ;
but oats, although pretty extensively produced, very
rapidly degenerate ; the seed in most parts requiring

THE WESTERN WORLD. 59

to be renewed after a few crops have been got from
American soil. If the demand, both at home and
abroad, for wheat were much greater than it is, it
would be much more exclusively produced than it
now is throughout the wheat-growing region par
excellence. But as it is, even in the best wheat-
growing States, immense quantities of Indian corn
and other grains are produced, and live-stock conse
quently reared in considerable abundance.

In regard to quantity produced, the wheat-growing
States range as follows — Ohio coming first, as raising
the largest amount; Pennsylvania next, New York
third, and Virginia fourth. Tennessee bears the palm
for the quantity of Indian corn produced. Nor must
it be forgotten that this important grain is produced
in large quantities far to the south of the line within
which wheat is raised to any extent. The two
Carolinas, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi,
and Louisiana, produce it at least in sufficient
quantity to supply the negro population with food,
as well as the white with a product which figures
largely in their cereal consumption. The best Ame
rican wheat is raised in Virginia, in the Genesee
Valley, in Western New York, and in Ohio. Great
quantities of it are ground into flour before being
exported, the chief manufacture of flour in the
United States for this purpose being carried on at
Rochester, near the mouth of the Genesee, and at
Richmond, Virginia. The Virginia flour is chiefly
exported to the Brazilian markets, being better
calculated for a tropical voyage than that of either
Ohio or New York.

There is not a State of the United States in which
tobacco may not be, and has not been, produced. It
can be, and has also been, produced in Western

60 THE WESTERN WOULD.

Canada, But the tract in which the bulk of this
product is raised, stretches from the 34th northward
to the 40th parallel of latitude ; five-sixths of it thus
lying within the limits already assigned to the grain-
growing region. The far greater proportion of the
tobacco raised within this tract is cultivated south of
the 37th parallel, the culture of this plant being thus
chiefly confined to three degrees of latitude, two of
which are also within the grain-growing region.
Virginia produces the greatest quantity, her capital,
Richmond, being the principal Tobacco mart of the
country. The State has taken every possible pre
caution, by means of legislative enactment, to prevent
inferior articles from being palmed off upon the com
munity. I have already alluded to the means devised
to protect merchants from fraud on the part of the
producers, at the sales which periodically take place
in the public warehouses at Richmond. Kentucky
follows Virginia in point of quantity ; after which
come Tennessee, Maryland, South Carolina, Missouri,
and even Ohio.

The great bulk of the cotton-growing region lies
to the south of the 34th parallel, stretching from the
Atlantic to beyond the Mississippi, with an average
width of about four degrees of latitude, the tract
being comprehended between the line last mentioned
and the Gulf of Mexico. To the north, however, its
growth is not confined within this line, a good deal of
cotton being raised in Virginia, and in the portions of
North Carolina, Tennessee, and Arkansas, which are
north of it. But the chief cotton-growing States are
to the south of it, and range as follows, according
to the quantity produced: — Mississippi, Alabama,
Georgia, and South Carolina. Tennessee comes next ;
Louisiana, Arkansas, and Virginia following in the

THE WESTERN WORLD. 61

order in which they are named. In none of these
States is cotton the exclusive, but, in the four princi
pal cotton-growing States, it is the staple product.
To these Florida may be added, although its annual
yield is not yet large. In the Carolinas and Georgia
rice is produced to a great extent from the low-
marshy grounds of the coast, as also in the coast
districts of Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, and Loui
siana. Rice has now become a leading article of
export from the South. The extent to which Indian
corn is cultivated in these States has already been
hinted at ; nor is wheat altogether neglected, small
quantities of it being raised in the upland districts of
the interior in most of them. We have also already
seen how far in Virginia, wheat, and in both Virginia
and Tennessee, Indian corn and tobacco, compete
with cotton in the annual produce of these States.

The cultivation of the sugar-cane and the manu
facture of sugar in the United States is chiefly, if
not exclusively, confined to the State of Louisiana.
The entire yield of this article in 1844 was computed
at upwards of 126 millions of pounds, of which up
wards of ninety-seven millions were produced by
Louisiana alone. The remainder was chiefly raised
and manufactured in Georgia and Florida, there being
now every indication that sugar will yet be the great
staple product of the latter. The sugar-growers, as
a class, differ in this important particular from their
fellow agriculturists, that they join the manufac
turers of the North in the cry for protection. In this
they cannot avail themselves of the flimsy pretext,
so prominently put forward by our colonial interests
and their parliamentary abettors, that one of their
objects in seeking to limit the use, if not entirely to
prohibit the introduction, of slave-grown sugar, is to

62 THE WESTERN WOULD.

discountenance slavery and the slave-trade. Louisiana
cannot allege that one of her objects is to discoun
tenance slavery, for her own sugar is produced by
slaves as much as is that of Cuba or Brazil. And
so long as the internal slave-trade continues in the
United States, enabling Louisiana to increase her
number of slaves by importations from the neigh
bouring States instead of from the coast of Africa,
she cannot, with any very high degree of consistency,
aver that her cry for protection is partly based upon
a desire to put down the slave-trade. Her object in
taking the part which she does take on the commer
cial question, is identical with that of those with whom
she is in league, to secure by legislative enactment a
higher profit to capital invested in a particular pursuit
than it would otherwise realise, or than capital other
wise invested would produce ; and this at the expense
of the whole body of consumers.

What an almost inexhaustible source of wealth is
there to the Republic in this variety of climate, and
this vast extent of fertile surface! With a few excep
tions, such as the rocky tracts of New England, and
the light sandy plains of New Jersey, the whole area
of the country, from the Lakes to the Gulf, and from
the Atlantic to far beyond the Mississippi, is highly
productive. Even the salt marshes on the sea-shore
are capable of being turned to the most profitable
account. In many districts of an upland character,
the soil, after having been used for some time,
requires to be manured, as it does in Europe, to
renovate it. But in others, particularly in the case
of the bottom lands on the great rivers, and of valleys
well irrigated, and where the soil is rich and deep, no
manure is required. In innumerable instances has it
been worked for years in the valley of the Mississippi

THE WESTERN WORLD. 63

and on both sides of the lakes, producing every year
more abundant crops, as the soil was more thoroughly
worked, without the aid of manure.

There is no question that the richest soil in
the United States is to be found in the Mississippi
valley. There it is not, as in so many other cases, a
thin covering over the clay, the sand, the gravel, the
chalk, or the rock ; but the deposit of ages, effected
by the constant operation of mighty agencies. In
some cases the rich black mould is found as much as
a hundred feet deep, and when turned up, is as light
and free as the driven snow. The pedestrian, as he
walks over it, can, in most cases, sink his cane to the
very head in it. Nor is it any wonder that it should
be found so deep, when we consider that the vast
desert which intervenes between the Mississippi and
the Rocky Mountains has been gradually despoiled,
that this rich deposit should be made in the lower
portions of the valley. The great tract which, com
mencing some hundreds of miles to the west of the
river, slopes gently up towards the mountains, has
been gradually denuded of its soil ; nothing being now
left upon it but the dry sand, through which the rocks
project, as the bones sometimes protrude through the
skin, the whole looking like the cadavre of what was
once a fertile region.

Nothing can better serve to convey to the reader's
mind an adequate idea of the exuberance of the Mis
sissippi valley, than the ease with which, the little
expense at which, and the abundance in which, wheat
can be produced in its upper and grain-growing sec
tion. Throughout its entire length and breadth, Indian
corn seems to be almost a spontaneous production ;
the difficulty seemingly being, not to produce it, but
to prevent it from growing in too great abundance.

64 THE WESTERN WORLD.

The farmer in the valley is remunerated if he gets
ten cents, or about sixpence sterling, a bushel for it
on his farm. For want of a greater domestic and
foreign demand, a great portion of the enormous
quantity annually raised of it rots upon the ground.
Wheat, of course, requires more attention to be
bestowed upon it, and more outlay to produce it.
But it is astonishing how little labour and cost it
requires to draw exuberant crops from the rich
prairie lands. The following estimate of the cost of
raising wheat, for the first time, from prairie land, I
procured from a gentleman in Washington, himself
a practical farmer in the West, and, at the time, a
member of Congress for a western constituency.

For ploughing an acre of sod doll. 2 0

Seed . . . .'•"•." .ff 10

Sowing seed 10

Harvesting 1 25

Threshing 1 75

Total expense . . . ' . '. . . . doll. 7 0

Here then we have seven dollars, or about 29s.
2d. sterling, covering the whole expense of pro
ducing an acre of wheat in portions of the valley.
And this is the cost at which the prairie can be cul
tivated for the first time. In subsequent years it is
diminished ; as, after the sod is once turned up,
the land can be ploughed for one dollar an acre.
This reduces the aggregate cost to 25s. per acre. But
it may be supposed that, as the husbandry is rude, the
yield will not be very abundant. The average yield
of good prairie land, when properly tilled, is above
thirty-five bushels per acre ; but as it is generally
farmed, it yields an average of thirty bushels. This
gives the cost of production at very nearly Is. the

THE WESTERN WORLD. 65

first year, and at lOd. in subsequent years. The
American is somewhat smaller than the English
bushel ; but, making ample allowance for this differ
ence, 10s. sterling may be assumed as the cost of
producing a quarter of wheat in most portions
of the Mississippi valley, where the land is prairie
land. Of course, when it is forest land, the cost of
clearing will enhance that of production. It there
fore follows, that all that the prairie farmer can get
over 10s. sterling per quarter for his wheat on his
farm, is clear profit to him. Compare this with 84s.,
63s., and 56s., as the successively assumed remune
rating prices in this country. I say upon his farm, —
for before the wheat, from these remote districts in
America, reaches an available market, its value is so
enhanced by commissions and transportation dues, as
to give the Mississippi farmer but little advantage on
the sea-board over his competitors on the American
and Canadian sides of the lakes, or of the grain-
growing regions east of the Alleganies. My chief
object in here alluding to the ease and little cost at
which wheat can on prairie land be simply produced,
without calculating its constantly augmenting value
as it is borne for hundreds and perhaps thousands of
miles to market, is to show the poor and industrious
man in this country at how little cost of either labour
or money he could secure a competence in these
exuberant though distant regions. Settled upon
prairie land, he is an independent man from the mo
ment that the first year's crop is gathered in ; as
he is, when settled upon wheat land, in any part of
America ; although, in other parts, greater labour
and a greater outlay are required to produce a crop.
Prairie land is obtainable for a variety of prices, from
the government price of 1 dollar 25 cents, or 5s.

66 THE WESTERN WORLD.

per acre, to 30 dollars, or 61. 5s. in the very best
locations.

Doubts have been thrown, in some quarters in this
country, upon the ability of America to supply our
deficiencies in case of scarcity ; and these doubts have
been grounded upon the comparatively small surplus
of wheat which, for two or three years back, when
there was such a foreign demand for it, America
had to spare. But were there a large and steady
foreign demand, America, without adding to her pre
sent number of agriculturists, could produce double
the quantity of wheat which she now produces.
Make it more profitable to the American farmer to
raise wheat than Indian corn, and much of the surface
which is now devoted to the produce of the one,
would be applied to that of the other grain. There
is not, at present, a sufficient demand, either home
or foreign, to tax all the energies of the agriculturists ;
and this, to a great extent, accounts for the yet back
ward state, in most instances, of American husbandry.
To produce all that is needed for home consumption,
and surplus sufficient to meet but a limited foreign
demand, has never called for a careful and scientific
treatment of the surface actually under cultivation.
But, notwithstanding the want of stimulus in this
respect, agriculture has, in some places, reached a
high degree of perfection in America. This is not
generally obvious to the mere traveller by railway
and steamer. The districts first settled were such as
adjoined the old highways ; and no one has seen Ame
rican husbandry in its more perfect development, who
has not travelled along the great national road in
Maryland, through the valley of Virginia, through
the centre of Pennsylvania, and along the old high
way between Albany and Buffalo in New York.

CHAPTER III.

FROM ST. LOUIS TO LOUISVILLE, CINCINNATI, AND
PITTSBURG. — MINING INTERESTS OF THE UNITED
STATES.

The advanced Posts of Civilization. — A genuine Westerner. — Bib
lical Disquisition amongst the N/egroes. — A Solar Eclipse. — Its
Explanation. — The Ohio. — City of Cairo. — Aspect of the River. —
Louisville. — Rifle-shooting. — From Louisville to Cincinnati. —
Freedom and Slavery. — Cincinnati. — Voyage to Pittsburg. — A
Scottish Emigrant and his History. — Reflections on Emigration.
— Change in the aspect of the country. — Pittsburg. — Its Situation,
Communications, and Manufactures. — Minerals and Mining In
terests of the United States.

WE left St. Louis on our way up the Ohio after a
sojourn of some days, during which we made several
excursions to different points on both banks of the
Missouri. It was at an early hour in the morning
that we left ; and as the day, which was exceedingly
fine, wore on, nothing could look more lorldly than
the Mississippi, as, after receiving the immense and
turgid volume of the Missouri, it rolled swiftly on
between its variegated and imposing banks — which
were, on the average, about a mile apart — to take
tribute from the Ohio. The bluffs on either side,
with their ever-changing and fantastic forms, were to
me a never-failing source of amusement and interest,
particularly when I beheld them crowned by some
lone hamlet or village, which the forest behind seemed
to be pushing into the stream. They looked like the

68 THE WESTERN WORLD.

advanced posts of civilization in the heart of the wil
derness. The main body is rapidly following up, the
invasion can no longer be resisted, and the shadow of
coming greatness is already forecast upon the land.

I have in a former chapter alluded to some of the
peculiarities of the vanguard of the invasion. Theirs
is a rough and an adventurous life, and if they are
not themselves rough when they undertake it, they
soon become so in prosecuting it. The pioneers
in the foremost line are the most adventurous and
restless of all, contracting habits in their unremitting
war with nature which completely unfit them for the
restraints of civilized life. The consequence is, that
they fly the approach of anything like conventionality,
or a settled form of society, pushing their way further
and further into the forest, as permanent settlements
spring up behind them. Those who follow differ at
first but little from their predecessors, except in their
preference for a fixed over a migratory life ; and even
they are restless to a degree, as compared with the
settled habits and the fixity of residence which
characterise a more advanced state of society. It is
chiefly this class that reduces the wilderness to culti
vation, and constitutes the great agricultural body of
the West. They are read}7 for a change of residence
whenever it may appear to be a good speculation, and
not, as is the case with the others, simply to enjoy, in
a state of semi-barbarism, a species of romantic inde
pendence in the woods.

We had not been long afloat ere I discovered that
we had several excellent specimens of the second, or
settling class, on board. One particularly attracted
my attention, from his enormous bulk, faultless pro
portions, free and easy air, and manly bearing. He

THE WESTERN WORLD. 69

was not over thirty, and was dressed in a kind of
green pilot-cloth coat, although the weather was op
pressively warm, his black hair falling in careless
curls from under a small cap, over his face. His com
plexion was much lighter and clearer than that of the
great majority of the Westerners, who, from the
miasmas engendered by the extent to which vegetable
decomposition is still going on in the soil, have generally
a dark, sallow, bilious fever and aguish look about
them. He had a small black eye, as quick and rest
less as that of a ferret. Nothing seemed to escape his
observation. He first made himself familiar with every
thing on board, then with everybody, and lastly gave
his attention almost exclusively to external objects.
Every glance which he bestowed upon you had the
deep prying curiosity of a first look about it; and you
could see, as his eye roved over every object from
the deck to the horizon, that the mind kept up with
it. He had nothing of the quiet, brooding melan
choly and cunning look of the genuine Yankee about
him ; for whilst he observed everybody and every
thing, he did not seem anxious to escape observation,
or to lead the judgment astray in attempting to fathom
him. As he paced the deck with a confident, though
by no means insolent air, I watched him for some
time with the interest which attaches to a fine speci
men of a noble race of animals, my admiration being
divided between his herculean proportions and his
manly, independent bearing. It was not long ere I
got into conversation with him, although to do so I
had to make the first advances. I found him shrewd,
intelligent, communicative, and inquiring. He was a
red-hot Oregon man, and almost gnashed his teeth
with rage when he spoke of the treaty which had

70 THE WESTERN WORLD.

been just signed by the "traitor" Polk. He had
made up his mind to reap glory in as yet unfought
fields in Canada; and being disappointed in that quar
ter, was now on his way to Washington, in the hope
of getting a commission, which would enable him to
vent his wrath upon the Mexicans. Having missed
all Oregon, he was now for all Mexico, and saw no
reason under the sun why a Spaniard should be left
on the northern side of Panama. The isthmus, the
north pole, and the two great oceans, were in his
opinion the only boundaries which the Republic
should recognise. He was a fiery specimen of the
fieriest Democrats, with whom the North-west
abounds — one of the " Now or Sooner " party, who
are not only carried away with the most magnificent
visions of the destinies of the Republic, but are
desirous of at once realising them.

An eclipse of the sun was that day looked for,
between one and two o'clock ; and as the hour ap
proached I drew near to a group of negroes, who
were grinning and chattering near the bow of the
boat, each with a piece of smoked glass in his hand,
through which to observe the expected phenomenon.
On getting within reach of their voices, I found them
engaged in a biblical discussion, the controversy
hinging upon the proper meaning of the phrase, " Ho,
ye that thirst," occruring in the Prophecies. The
most loquacious amongst them, who seemed to be the
oracle of the group, held that it was chiefly applied to
those who were engaged in the cultivation of cotton
and Indian corn ; the hoe being the principal imple
ment used by those so occupied. Contrary as it
might seem to all experience, the exhortation ad
dressed to those thus employed was, to hoe away when

THE WESTERN WORLD. 71

they felt thirsty, that they might forget their thirst.
He was indebted for this lucid interpretation to the
overseer of a plantation in Alabama, on which he had
been for some years a slave. It was the custom of the
overseer to collect the negroes every Sunday evening,
and read the Bible to them ; but it appeared that, no
matter from what other parts he read, he always con
cluded by referring to those texts which enjoined
upon servants the duty of obeying their masters in all
things, and showed that as a reward for working hard,
the harder they worked, the less inconvenience they
would feel from thirst ; for such was the interpretation
which he always put upon the text, " Ho, ye that
thirst." This explanation was followed by a look of
incredulity, which passed round the group, and drew
from the speaker himself a confession that although
he had often practically tested it, his experience had
invariably belied the interpretation.

Shortly afterwards the eclipse, punctual to its
time, commenced. It was but partial in the latitude
wherein we beheld it, scarcely one-half of the sun's
disc being obscured. It lasted altogether about two
hours, and gave rise to many sapient and philosophic
observations amongst those on board, particularly our
coloured friends.

" What makes de 'clipse, Massa Gallego?" asked
one of the group, addressing himself to the oracle.

" S'pose I 'splain it, Jim Snow, you no und'stand
it den," replied Mr. Gallego; " but, for de sake of de
oder jin'lemen I'll give you de philosophic cause of de
phenomenon."

" Go it, Massa Gallego," the rest cried in chorus,
exposing their huge white teeth, as they grinned
almost from ear to ear.

72 THE WESTERN WORLD.

" Well, you see," observed Mr, Gallego, encou
raged by this manifestation of confidence in his attain
ments, " de sun is a movin' body, and so is de airth,
and so, for dat matter, is de moon."

" Well," cried they all in expectation.

" So you see," continued Mr. Gallego, with all the
dignity of a professor, " de sun come between de
circumbular globe and de moon, and then de dia
meter of de moon fall upon de sun, when dey are all
in de conjunctive mood."

" Well," cried his audience again.

" Well," said Mr. Gallego, in a tone of displeasure,
" what are you well-ing at ? Don't you see how it
is ? I can't give you no more than a 'splanation. I
can't give you brains to und'stand it, no how."

" 'Cause you haven't got none to spare ; yhaw,
yhaw ! " said Jim Snow, bending almost double, that
he might laugh the more heartily.

" Get out, nigga ! " said the others, who were as
little satisfied with the explanation as Mr. Snow was,
but who attempted to impose upon each other by
rallying round the professor, whose dignity had been
grievously wounded, as was evident from the manner
in which he stood, with his lips in a frightful state of
protrusion, his nostrils dilated, and his eyes rolling
about like those of a duck in a thunderstorm.

"Well, I no und'stand it, dat's all," said Jim
Snow, deprecating the rising wrath of the company.

"Who said you did, nigga?" said two or three of
them, who on account of their superior nervous organ
ization, had by this time been wrought up into a
towering passion.

" Didn't he say dis here globe was circumbular ? *'
asked Jim in self-defence.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 73

" So it is," said one of the group ; " you'll not be
believin' next that dey catch de pickled herrin's in de
sea."

" I tell you it isn't ; de globe is as flat as my
hand," replied Mr. Snow.

" Neber mind him," said the professor, quelling the
gathering tempest ; " you might as well expect a
kyow's tail to grow up'ards as that 'ere nigga to larn
anything."

" If de globe is round," continued Mr. Snow,
" how do de people live on de under side ? Dey must
stand on their heads I reckon."

" Dey live inside, you brack brockhead/' replied
the professor, turning round upon his heel, to put an
end to the discussion.

Jim felt abashed. He was not prepared for this
mode of carrying what he had evidently regarded as
his strong point. His unbelief was shaken, but in
stead of being welcomed back into the fold, he was
hissed out of the company, as a punishment for his
infidelity.

When I got upon deck next morning, we were
entering the Ohio. It was, at one time, intended to
build a city at the confluence of the two streams,
which, had it started into being, would have been a
formidable rival to St. Louis. The chief obstacle in
the way of the project was, that the site on which
the town was to rest was very frequently under water.
Cairo was to have been its name, but it by no means
follows that because one Cairo can stand ankle deep
in the sands of the desert, another could do so up to the
knees in the marshes of the Ohio. For the present,
therefore, the Cairo of the West is a mere phantasy ;
but that the rising exigencies of the region will, ere

VOL. m. E

74 THE WESTERN WOULD.

long, conjure into being an important commercial
depot near the mouth of the Ohio, can scarcely admit
of a doubt.

The valley of the Ohio, which is merely a feature of
that of the Mississippi, comprehends a large section
of Illinois, the greater portions of Kentucky, Ohio
and Indiana, a small part of Tennessee, and those dis
tricts of Pennsylvania and Virginia which lie west of
the Allegany chain. It is irrigated by a magnificent
river system, the Ohio being the main stream into
which the whole valley is drained ; its chief tribu
taries being the Wabash, which enters it on the north,
and the Cumberland and Tennessee, which join it
on the south bank. These, and other tributaries of
the Ohio, are navigable by steamers for considerable
distances, the Wabash in particular being so for
about 300 miles during the greater portion of the
year.

For a long distance up, the average width of the
river appeared to be from three-quarters of a mile
to a mile. Its current is scarcely so impetuous
as that of the Mississippi, and its volume, except
when it is in high flood, is as clear throughout as I
observed it to be on its entrance into that river. The
banks on both sides, particularly the southern bank,
are undulating and picturesque, but there is a total
absence of the bluffs, which form so prominent a feature
in the scenery of the Mississippi. For almost the
entire way up to Louisville, which is 380 miles from
the junction, both banks are, with but occasional ex
ceptions, shrouded, to the water's edge, in the dark,
dense forests of the West. The prairie land of
Indiana and Illinois does not extend to the Ohio.
There is a flat strip of land on both sides of the river,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 75

more continuous on the Kentucky, than on the other
bank, which intervenes between the river and the
woody undulations which skirt it ; this strip, con
sisting of rich deep alluvial deposit, is generally
inundated when the Ohio is in very high flood.

We had nearly completed the third day after our
departure from St. Louis, when, at early morning,
we arrived at Louisville, the largest and handsomest
town in Kentucky. It is built at the point at which
occurs the chief obstacle to the navigation of the
river, that which is known as the rapids of the Ohio.
These rapids are trifling as compared with those
which occur in the course of the St. Lawrence, ex
tending over only two miles, and not falling much
above ten feet per mile. When the river is full, the
impediment which they offer is not so great as when
the water is low. A short canal has been constructed
around them to avoid the difficulty.

Intending to pass a day here, we immediately
landed and took up our quarters in an excellent
hotel. The town is well built, spacious, and pleasant,
and has a thriving, bustling, and progressive look
about it. The population is now about 35,000, to
which it has increased from 500, which was all that
it could muster at the commencement of the century.

The world has rung with the fame of Kentucky
riflemen. Extraordinary feats have been attributed
to them, some practicable, others of a very fabulous
character. For instance, one may doubt, without
being justly chargeable with too great a share of in
credulity, the exploit attributed to one of their " crack
shots," who, it is said, could throw up two potatoes
in the air, and, waiting until he got them in a line,
send a rifle ball through both of them. But waving

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76 THE WESTERN WORLD.

all question as to these extraordinary gifts, there is
no doubt but that the Kentucky riflemen are first-
rate shots. As I was anxious to witness some proofs

of their excellence, my friend D inquired of the

landlord if there were then any matches going on in
town. He directed us to a spot in the outskirts,
where we were likely to see something of the kind,
and thither we hied without loss of time. There had
been several matches that morning, but they were
over before we arrived on the ground. There was
one, however, still going on, of rather a singular cha
racter, and which had already been nearly of a week's
standing. At a distance of from seventy-five to a
hundred yards from where the parties stood, were two
black cocks, pacing about in an enclosure which left
them exposed on the side towards the competitors.
At these two men were firing as fast as they could
load, and, as it appeared to me, at random, as the
cocks got off with impunity. On my observing to

Mr. D that, although I was no " crack shot,"

I thought I could kill one of them at the first fire, he
smiled, and directed my attention to their tails. One
indeed had scarcely any tail left, unless two solitary
feathers deserved the appellation. On closer inspec
tion, I found a white line drawn in chalk or paint on
either side of the tail of each, close to the body of the
bird, and each party taking a bird, the bet was to be
won by him who first shot the tail off his, up to the
line in question, and without inflicting the slightest
wound upon its possessor. They were to fire as often
as they pleased, during a certain hour each day,
until the bet was decided. One of the competitors
had been very successful, and had accomplished his
object on the third day's trial, with the exception of

THE WESTERN WOULD. 77

the two feathers already alluded to, which, having
had a wide gap created between them, seemed to
baffle all his efforts to dislodge them. What the issue
was I cannot say, for at the close of that day's trial it
remain undecided.

Next day, we proceeded on board one of the
many steamers calling at Louisville, and set off for
Cincinnati, 120 miles further up the Ohio. The river
differed but little in its aspect, as we ascended it, with
the exception, perhaps, that the further up we pro
ceeded, in other words, the further east, or the nearer
the older States we went, the settlements on its banks
were larger and more frequent, and indicated a higher
stage of advancement than those below. The same
difference was all along observable between the two
banks, and has already been adverted to as existing be
tween Virginia and any of the northern States. Whilst
the one side presented every appearance of industry,
enterprise, and activity, a sleepy languor seemed to
pervade the other, which was not a mere fancy re
sulting from a preconceived opinion, but real and
palpable. The Ohio, for almost its entire course,
separates from each other the realms of freedom and
slavery. It runs for a short distance within the limits
of Pennsylvania, dividing for the rest of its course the
States of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois from Virginia
and Kentucky. Taking into account the windings of
the river, the Ohio coast of the last mentioned State
is upwards of 600 miles in length.

I was somewhat disappointed by the appearance
presented by Cincinnati from the river. Considering
that as yet this is the capital of the West, being the
largest city west of the Alleganies, I was led to expect
a more imposing front than it presents to the Ohio,

78 THE WESTERN WORLD.

on the north bank of which it is built, not far from
the south-west angle of the State of Ohio. We landed
and stayed in the city for two days, during which we
had ample opportunity of inspecting it. It is very
pleasantly situated on two plains of different eleva
tions, the lower being a considerable height above the
river, and about fifty feet lower than the higher one;
both being skirted immediately behind the town by a
range of low hills, which seem to hem it in between
them and the river. It appears, therefore, to be
cramped for room, very like Greenock, on the Clyde ;
but the bowl in which Cincinnati stands will contain
a much larger population, without there being any
necessity for its invading the hills, than it is likely to
contain for many a day. The elevated grounds are
already occupied by many residences most charmingly
situated, from most of which the town appears to
great advantage. When seen from the hills behind,
Cincinnati amply atones for its rather shabby ap
pearance from the river. When in it the town is not
only passable but elegant, particularly the bulk of it
lying back from the stream. The streets, which gene
rally intersect each other at right angles, are very
close together, of moderate width, well shaded with
trees in some instances, and well paved in almost all.
The suburbs are somewhat scattered, and though
they appear straggling, are laid out upon a regular
plan, which can be traced by a little observation, and
which will preserve in its future increase the regu
larity which now characterises the city. It is not
the capital of the State, and its public buildings are
therefore exclusively of a municipal, literary, and reli
gious description. None of them are large, but several,
particularly some of the churches, are exceedingly

THE WESTERN WORLD. 79

chaste and elegant. The bulk of the better portion
of the city is built of brick, with here and there
some edifices of stone. The progress of Cincinnati
has been most rapid, and affords one of the best
exemplifications which the tourist meets with, of
the celerity with which flourishing communities are
conjured into existence in the New World. In the
year 1800, its population did not exceed 750 souls. It
is now equal to that of Aberdeen or Dundee, being
about 60,000. It has thus, in less than fifty years,
increased its population eighty-fold ! It is one of the
most orderly and industrious, and, for its size, one of
the wealthiest towns in the Union ; and it is much to
the credit of its inhabitants that, in addition to what
the State has done for education, their city abounds
with evidences of a munificent liberality on their
parts, with the view of still further promoting it. The
stranger must indeed be fastidious who is not very
favourably impressed by Cincinnati, both as regards
the moral and physical aspect in which it presents
itself to him.

We had been already nearly four days afloat since
we left St. Louis, but were yet fully 400 miles distant,
by river, from Pittsburg, our destination. The boat
in which we left Cincinnati for the latter place was
of smaller burden and draught than any in which we
had yet been. When the summer droughts are pro
tracted, the river, in its upper portion, sometimes be
comes very low ; and there are points in its channel
which, on such occasions, it is difficult for even the
smallest steamers to pass. There had been copious
rains, however, for some days previously amongst the
hills to the north-eastward, so that we anticipated no
difficulty in this respect.

80 THE WESTERN WORLD.

Amongst my fellow-passengers to Pittsburg was a
Scotch emigrant, who had been settled for about five
years in Ohio. He was not above thirty-five years
of age, and seemed to overflow with enterprise and
shrewdness. He was quite a character, and proud to
a degree of the position in which he then stood, when
contrasted with the obscurity of his early life. We
had not been long in conversation together when he
favoured me with the following bit of biography.

" I was born in Paizla," (Paisley,) said he, "where
my father was a weaver body. My mither died when I
was very young, and nothing would suit father but to
marry again. My step-mither did na behave weel
to me ; she never let me eat wi' themsells, but always
gave me my parritch at the door-cheek. Man, but
1 did na like that at a'. I was apprenticed to the
weavin' mysel, but I thought I was born for better
things, and partly to push my fortune, and partly to
gie my step-mither the slip, I ran awa ae Friday
efterneen about four o'clock; leavin' my work just as
it was. I was but fourteen year then ; and where
div ye think I gaed."

" It would be difficult to guess, I am sure," replied I.

" Div ye ken Dunkeld ?" he inquired.

"Right well," 1 rejoined, "one of the loveliest
spots in all Scotland ; charmingly situated upon the
Tay, amongst the first ridges of the Grampians, as
you approach them from the noble carse of Gowrie."

" Ay, I see ye ken it weel," continued he. " D'ye
happen to know the Athol Arms in Dunkeld ?"

" I do," replied I, " and a very excellent and com
fortable house it is."

" Weel man," said he, "I was a wee bitts (boots)
there for twa year. I then got tired o't and gaed

THE WESTERN WORLD. 81

awa to Glesgy (Glasgow), where I was a waiter for
four year more."

"What did you do next? " I asked, getting some
what interested in his story.

" I then/' he continued, " went aboord ane of the
Glesgy and Belfast steamers, where I was a steward
for seven year, and after that I became travellin' agent
for a speerit firm in Belfast. You see I was aye
loupin' up as I thought I should, when I left the
weavin*. After travellin' aboot for mair than twa
year, wP samples o' a' sorts of speerits, manufactured
and sold by my employers, I packed up my things,
and having saved a little money, came to this coun
try. I came to Ohio almost as soon as I landit,
and settled near Columbus, where I have a large
farm, well cleared and stocked. I'm noo goin' to turn
the knowledge 1 got in Belfast to some accoont,
by setting up a whisky still — and I'm just on my way
to Pittsburg for the apparatus."

" Are you married ? " I asked him.

" Hoot aye man, for mair than four year back," he
replied. " To get a wife was ane of the first things
I did, after gettin' my farm. It's nae here as it is in
Scotland, where there's mair mous to fill than there's
bread to fill them wi'. The sooner a man gets married
here the better, always providin* he's nae a mere
striplin'. Eh man," he continued, after a moment's
reflection, " if the poor Paizla weavers, that are
starvin' at home, only kent what they could do here,
wi' a little industry and perseverance, it's mony's the
ane o' them would come awa' frae that reeky, poverty-
stricken hole, which would leave it a' the better for
sic as were left behind."

" If instances of success like yours," observed I,

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82 THE WESTERN WORLD.

" came to their knowledge, I have no doubt but that
it would stimulate many of them to follow your
example. But the worst of it is that the majority of
the poor with us shrink from emigration, their igno
rance of what it really means investing it with vague
and undefined terrors to them. There is no lack of
demagogues to profit by this ignorance, and identify
emigration with transportation. The poor are thus
abandoned to the mercy of false teachers, instead of
being taught by those who have it in their power to
instruct them aright, that emigration, if the emigrant
is frugal, industrious and persevering, is but a means
of exchanging misery and privation at home for com
fort and independence amongst one's own kindred and
countrymen elsewhere.""

" Your government and your rich folks have much
in their power," he observed, " both in the way of in-
structin' the poor man how and where to emigrate, and
aidin' him to leave the country, if he is so disposed.
The consequences of their neglect to do so will yet
recoil with terrible severity upon themselves."

Our conversation here dropped for a while, but
it was long ere I could divest myself of the re
flections to which its concluding portion gave rise.
What wealth, what resources were around me, and at
any moment within the compass of my vision, run
ning to waste for want of a sufficient population to
turn them to profitable account ! What a field for the
teeming multitudes of our overstocked districts! Why
were they not there, enjoying ease and plenty, instead
of jostling each other for a precarious subsistence at
home? To what is our social system tending ? Our
daily national life is a daily miracle. Great as is our
absolute wealth, and great as is our credit, yet as a

THE WESTERN WORLD. 83

nation are we not constantly living from hand to
mouth? Derange the system by which we subsist,
and the evil consequences are immediately felt. In
creasing resources are relied upon as the means of
ultimately relieving us from our difficulties; but as
our resources increase, and as our wealth augments,
our poverty also exhibits itself in more enlarged pro
portions. As the fabric of our national greatness
towers more and more to heaven, the shadows which
it casts over the landscape become deeper and more
elongated. We present an imposing front to the
world ; but let us turn the picture, and look at the
canvass. One out of every seven of us is a pauper.
Every six Englishmen have, in addition to their other
enormous burdens, to support a seventh between
them, whose life is spent in consuming, but in adding
nothing to the source of their common subsistence.
And daily does the evil accumulate, and daily do we
resign ourselves to it, as if it were irremediable, or
would some day subside of its own accord. But the
river that is always rising must, at last, overflow its
banks ; and a poverty which is constantly accumu
lating must yet strike with a mortal paralysis the
system which has engendered it. There may be
many cures for the evil, if we could or would hit
upon them. If emigration would not prove itself a
cure, it would at all events operate as a palliative
until a cure could be devised. But our State doctors
will not prescribe it. It would be a new-fangled
treatment, and would not accord with precedent.
Better spend millions a year in keeping up a nucleus
for increasing poverty at home, than a few millions for
a few years in wholly or partially dissipating the
evil. The poor we must have always with us, and so

84. THE WESTERN WORLD.

we keep as many of them about us as we can. It is
true that we have colonies, ships, and money — a re
dundant population at home, and vacant territories
ahroad — true that we have a large number here,
who, for want of employment, are necessarily preying
upon the industry and the energies of others, and
that our colonies only want people to make them ex
tensive markets and powerful auxiliaries to us. All
this is true ; but to fill the colonies and relieve the
mother country, is no part of the duty of the govern
ment. It cannot interfere with private enterprise. In
other words, poverty is expected to spirit itself away.
The government will do nothing on an adequate
scale, to invigorate the extremities, whilst it leaves a
cancer to prey upon the very heart of the empire.
What is to be the end of all this ? It may be post
poned for some time to come, if none of the sources
of our national life are dried up. But let our trade
receive a rude shock in any quarter, and the impending
catastrophe will precipitate itself upon us in an hour.
Next day, having left Kentucky over-night behind
us, we were sailing between Ohio and Western Vir
ginia, The country on either side was now more
broken and hilly than any portion of it lower down
the river, and gave token, every step that we advanced,
of our nearer and nearer approach to one of the great
mountain systems of the continent. But, as yet, the
undulating surface in no part rose to the dignity of a
mountain, being composed of a succession of small
hills, which appeared capable of cultivation to the
very top. At the close of the second day, however,
as we approached the frontier of Pennsylvania, the
land began to heave itself up in larger and more
abrupt masses from the plain, whilst here and there

THE WESTERN WORLD. 85

could be faintly traced along the eastern horizon the
distant crests of the Alleganies. Thus seen at a
great distance, they looked like purple clouds afloat
in a sky of azure ; and delicious to me — after being for
some weeks accustomed to nothing save the level and
monotonous lines of woodland and prairie, which con
stitute the chief features in the scenery of the great
valley — were these first and far-off glimpses from the
west of this glorious mountain-chain.

Owing to some detentions by the way, it was the
afternoon of next day ere we reached Pittsburg,
when, — after a journey of 1,100 miles from St. Louis,
and no less than 2,300 from New Orleans, and all
on the bosom of two great rivers, passing through
an enormous region unsurpassed in fertility and un
equalled in its natural advantages, and flowing through
almost interminable tracts of forest and prairie, and
by flourishing cities, rising towns, and sweet smiling
villages, — I stepped ashore on the right bank of the
Monongahela.

Pittsburg, the capital of Western Pennsylvania and
the chief seat of western manufacture, is, commercially
speaking, most advantageously situated on the penin
sula formed by the confluence of the Allegany and
Monongahela rivers, which here unite to form the
Ohio. It is thus in direct communication with the
whole valley of the Mississippi, and with the Dela
ware and the Atlantic, by means of the Pennsylvania
canals. It will also soon have a continuous water
communication with the Great Lakes, by means of the
Genesee valley canal, already partly constructed and
designed to unite the Allegany River with the Erie
canal at Rochester in New York. The chief port of
Pittsburg is on its Monongahela side, where, through-

86 THE WESTERN WORLD.

out the year, is the greatest depth of water. It is
connected with the opposite shores of both rivers by
means of stupendous bridges, leading to the different
suburbs by which it is surrounded, Allegany city, the
principal one, being on the right bank of the river of
that name. The town, partly owing to its position,
is very compactly built ; and some of its public
buildings, which are substantial and elegant, are well
situated for effect upon the rising ground immediately
behind it. The country around is broken and hilly,
the hills containing inexhaustible stores of the bitu
minous coal, which Pittsburg uses to such an extent
in connexion with its manufactures. It is termed by
its inhabitants the " Sheffield of the West," from the
similarity of its manufactures to those of that town.
In one thing it certainly resembles Sheffield — in the
dingy and sickly character of the vegetation in its
immediate vicinity; the fresh green leaf and the
delicate flower being begrimed, ere they have fully
unfolded themselves, by the smoke and soot with
which the whole atmosphere is impregnated. Both
iron and coal are found in vast abundance in its
neighbourhood, from which the character of its in
dustry may be inferred. It has furnaces for the
manufacture 'of cast-iron ; it has bloomeries, forges,
and rolling-mills ; and carries on an extensive manu
facture of cutlery, hardware, and glass. The aggre
gate amount invested in manufacture in Pittsburg
comes close upon three millions sterling. In 1800 its
population was considerably under 2,000, it is now
30,000. Its future growth is sufficiently typified by
its past progress. Its canal communication with
Philadelphia is interrupted by the Alleganies ; but
the broken link is supplied by a short railway, which

THE WESTERN WOULD. 87

crosses the mountains by means of stupendous in
clined planes and heavy tunneling. The canal-boats
are generally divisible into three parts, each part
being capable of floating by itself. When they reach
the mountains they are taken to pieces, placed upon
trucks, and carried across by railway, when their
different parts, being once more launched and afloat,
are hooked together, and thus again forming one boat
proceed on their journey.

Pittsburg being situated on the confines of one of
the greatest mining districts in the United States, no
better opportunity can offer itself of taking a very
general and rapid glance at the mineral resources,
and the mining interests of the Union.

There is no country in the world possessing a
greater abundance, or a greater variety, of mineral
resources than the United States. There is scarcely
a known mineral existing that is not found some
where, and in greater or less quantity, within the
limits of the Republic. We have already seen the
extent to which the gold region stretches from
North-east to South-west, although it may not have
been found very productive at any particular point.
But if any credit is to be attached to the accounts
which now reach us from California, the Union has,
by its recent acquisitions from Mexico, added to its
territories an auriferous region, as rich as any yet
discovered in the world. The silver mines of the
continent seem to be chiefly confined to the countries
lying to the west of the Gulf of Mexico, although
this metal is found in small quantities in some of the
Southern States. Quicksilver, again, is found in
great abundance, and in different combinations, in
the northern and western districts, that is to say,

88 THE WESTERN WORLD.

in the neighbourhood of the lakes. Although copper
is found elsewhere, it is only in the neighbourhood of
Lake Superior that it has as yet been discovered in
any very large quantity. During the mania for cop
per mining, which a short time ago pervaded both
the United States and Canada, some parties either
purchased or leased enormous tracts, in some cases
consisting of several miles square, for the purpose of
carrying on operations from which they expected
immediately to amass colossal fortunes. But like
most of those in too great haste to be rich, their
splendid visions have to a great extent faded. There
is no doubt, however, but that there is an abundance
of copper in this region, which, when better com
munications are opened with so remote a quarter,
will be turned to profitable account.

The continent is abundantly supplied with iron.
Within the Union it is found in greatest quantity in
the States of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland,
and New York. There are also extensive iron mines
as far south as Virginia, which are as yet but very par
tially worked. It is in the north-west parts of Illinois
that lead is found in the greatest abundance. The
ore found here is as rich as any lead ore in the world,
particularly that produced near Galena, which is the
chief seat of mining operations in connexion with
this metal. The supply appears to be inexhaustible,
and lies so near the surface that even the Indians
used to produce great quantities of lead here, before
the attention of the whites was drawn to the mineral
wealth of the district.

Almost all the salt made in the United States is
the produce of salt springs. The greatest hitherto
discovered are in Oriondaga county, New York. They

THE WESTERN WORLD. 89

are State property, and yield a large revenue annually
to the State exchequer.

But with all this vast and varied supply of mi
nerals, the United States would still be at a loss
if they were wanting in coal, the great agent em
ployed in bringing most of them, if not all, into
practicable shape. But if there is one mineral produc
tion with which they are more liberally supplied than
another, it is this. One enormous coal region, with
many interruptions it is true, stretches from the
southern counties of New York to the northern
counties of Alabama. Coal is also found in New
England and New Jersey, and vast fields of bitumi
nous coal lie close to the surface, in the neigh
bourhood of Richmond, Virginia. The chief of
these, the Chesterfield coal field, is worked by an
English company. The whole coal area of the United
States is estimated at upwards of 70,000 square
miles, about twelve times the extent of the aggregate
coal area of all Europe, and about thirty-five times
the extent of that of Great Britain and Ireland.
The coal area of the United States is nearly as great
as the entire area of Great Britain. The Americans
too have this advantage in working their mines, that
the mineral lies near the surface, or is generally
otherwise found in accessible positions.

But unquestionably the chief interest that attaches
to mining operations in the United States centres in
Pennsylvania. As New England is the chief seat of
manufactures, so is that State the chief focus of
mining industry, as it is the chief seat of mineral
wealth. Fully one half, if not more, of all the iron
manufactured in the United States is the produce of the
mines and industry of Pennsylvania. Nor is its mineral

90 TILE WESTERN WORLD.

wealth very partial in its distribution. In five out of
every eight counties in Pennsylvania, and the total
number is fifty-four, both iron and coal are found in
abundance. The coal area of the State particularly
is enormous, extending over 10,000 square miles,
being about five times the extent of that of Great
Britain and Ireland. It is as yet but partially
worked, but what a source of wealth and greatness is
here ! The coal mines of Pennsylvania are as rich as
any of those in England, and the strata in most cases
lie so close together, that several can be worked at
little more than the cost of working one.

Not only are the Pennsylvanian mines as rich as,
but they also produce a greater variety of coal than
the English mines. The produce of the former is
primarily divisible into two great classes, the bitumi
nous and the anthracite coal. The great seat of the
latter species is between the Blue Ridge and the Sus-
quehanna, east of the Allegany mountains, whilst the
former is principally, if not exclusively, found imme
diately westward of the chain. The Alleganies thus
divide the two great coal fields of Pennsylvania from
each other, forming the western boundary of the
anthracite and the eastern boundary of the bituminous
field.

The value of the bituminous coal was, of course,
appreciated as soon as it was discovered ; but it was
some time ere it was known that anthracite coal could
be turned to the same purposes as its rival. It is
now not only extensively used for domestic purposes,
but also in the operations connected with smelting,
and forging, and casting. Its availability in this
respect materially enhances the mineral wealth of
Pennsylvania.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 91

Some estimate may be formed of the extent to
which these resources will yet be applied, by glancing
at that to which they have already been turned to
account. For the figures which follow I am chiefly
indebted to some articles which appeared in 1847
in the Philadelphia Commercial List. The principal
development of the coal resources of Pennsylvania has
been in connexion with its great anthracite coal field,
that being most accessible to the markets in which
coal is now most in demand. It was only in 1820 that
it first appeared as a marketable commodity ; and in
that year the quantity sent to market on tide-water
did not exceed 365 tons. For the nine years that
succeeded, the average annual receipts of anthracite
coal at tide-water were 25,648 tons. For the next
nine years the annual average was 454,534 tons ; and
for the succeeding nine, terminating in 1847, it was
no less than 1,283,229 tons. This rapid rate of in
crease in its consumption demonstrates the availability
of the article, the facility with which the mines can
be worked, and the growing demand for their produce.

It was long after anthracite coal came to be very
generally used for domestic purposes, that it was
applied to smelting and other kindred operations.
Indeed, so late as 1840, there were no furnaces in
Pennsylvania consuming this species of coal. There
are now from forty to fifty in full operation using it,
and some of these are of the largest class. Nume
rous rolling mills have also been erected during the
last few years, so constructed as to consume it ; and
it is difficult to keep pace with the rapid increase in
the demand for it. Since it has been brought into
general use, it has more than trebled the coasting
trade of Philadelphia, and, as noticed in a former

92 THE WESTERN WORLD.

chapter, the trade to which it has given rise has called
into sudden existence the suburb and port of Rich
mond, immediately above the city, which is now the
chief seat of its export. The abundance in which it
is found, and the ease with which it is already worked,
are evident from its cost at the mouth of the mine,
which is, on the average, but thirty-five cents, or
Is. 9d. sterling, per ton.

The localities in which it is chiefly found, are what
are known as the Lehigh and Schuylkill regions. The
value of the coal trade to Pennsylvania, and the pro
spects which it appears to hold out, may be inferred
from the enormous amount of money already in
vested in internal improvements, constructed chiefly,
if not wholly, with a view to facilitating its transit to
market. The Lehigh improvements, in the shape of
canals, railways, &c., have cost 7,045,000 dollars, or
],384,325/. sterling. The aggregate sum invested
in improvements connected with the Schuylkill coal
region, is 19,365,000 dollars, or 4,034,375£. sterling.
These sums, with the cost of other improvements,
not exclusively connected with the coal trade, but
affording it every facility in reaching the Hudson and
New York, make a total thus invested of no less than
34,970,000 dollars, or 7,285,41 6£ sterling.

This glance simply embraces the anthracite coal
trade east of the mountains. The great bituminous
region to the west, extending to the vicinity of
Pittsburg, is being also rapidly developed, the enor
mous trade which will yet spring from it being
destined to embrace the regions bordering the lakes
and the valley of the Mississippi. Large quantities
of bituminous coal are and will be consumed upon the
sea-board ; but, except where Nova Scotia and English

THE WESTERN WORLD. 93

coal comes in competition with it, the bituminous coal
supplied for consumption east of the mountains, is
chiefly drawn from the mines of Virginia near Rich
mond.

Not only does Pennsylvania thus teem with coal,
but, as already intimated, it is also abundantly sup
plied with iron, the other great agent in the work of
civilization and material improvement. In most of
the counties in which coal is found, iron abundantly
prevails. They are generally found in close prox
imity to each other, sometimes in contiguous strata,
offering every facility for the process of smelting.
And what is of great importance in the manufacture
of iron, limestone is also found in abundance in most
of the districts in which both coal and iron prevail.
In short, there is but one instance in which nature
has thrown still greater facilities in the way of the
manufacture of this all-important metal, the "black
band" of Scotland, in which the iron, the coal, and
the limestone, are found together in the same mass.

The iron-trade of Pennsylvania has not manifested
the same undeviating progression as has characterised
the coal-trade ; the iron, having been more in the habit
than the coal-masters of relying upon protective tariffs,
instead of upon their own energy and skill. For with
all her vast resources, Pennsylvania condescends to
whine for protection. In some instances she has re
ceived it, when her iron trade, artificially stimulated,
has suddenly expanded, only to shrink again before
the least breath of competition. The high tariff of
1842 gave a new impetus to the iron interest of Penn
sylvania, and during the four years which succeeded
its enactment, the produce of her mines was nearly
doubled. A reduction of duty took place in 1846,

94 THE WESTERN WORLD.

since which time the iron of Pennsylvania has been
more exposed to the competition of that of England,
and the iron-masters are again in despair, and predict
nothing but ruin to their own and to every other in
terest in the State. The same with the coal owners ;
who affirm that they cannot withstand the competition
of the coal of England and Nova Scotia. The ques
tion of protecting them, and excluding, for that pur
pose, English iron and coal from the American mar
kets, is one which rests between them and the con
sumers of these articles. Since the reduction of the
duty in 1846, a larger quantity of English iron than
before has entered into the general consumption ; a
circumstance which has met with the animadversion of
Mr. Webster, umquhile the staunch advocate of free
trade, but who now stands up for the exclusive inter
ests of the iron and coal masters of Pennsylvania, as
he has long done for those of the manufacturers of
New England. In promoting the interests of the capi
talist, it is, of course, those of the labourer which he
professes to advocate. He wants to keep wages high
in America; that is to say, the wages of those em
ployed in the production and manufacture of coal and
iron. This cannot be done, unless the price of coal
and iron be kept high. In other words, he wishes to
keep the wages of the producers of coal and iron at a
high figure, at the expense of all the other classes and
interests in the country. And what is his professed
object in all this? To enable the labourer to live
well, to educate his children, and be a good and
respectable citizen. If Mr. Webster embraced all
labour within the sphere of his benevolence, he could
not set before himself a nobler object. But he has
before treated labour as if it were entirely and solely

THE WESTERN WOULD. 95

occupied in the manufacture of calicos ; and he now
treats it, as if it took no other form than that of pro
ducing coal and iron. What thinks he of the artisan,
the cotton-grower, and the farm-labourer ? May not
the enhanced prices for coal and iron, which he would
extort from them for the special benefit of the pro
ducers of these articles, prevent them from living as
comfortably, educating their children as well, or being
as good citizens, as they otherwise would ? It is all
very praiseworthy to seek to subserve the interests of
labour, but either their wisdom or their motive is
questionable, who seek to promote labour in one
shape, by sacrificing to it labour in every other form.

The reduction of the duties both upon coal and
iron in 1846 was the work of the Democrats. Penn
sylvania was at the time a democratic State, but she
has manifested her displeasure at what was then done
by her political friends, by going over at the last elec
tion to the Whig camp. But the insignificance of the
majority by which she has done so, shows that even
in Pennsylvania the agricultural body are no longer
to be duped. Both there and elsewhere they have dis
covered that, by means of the plough, they can, for a
time at least, supply the Union with manufactured
goods, and with coal and iron, at a cheaper rate than
the manufacturers or the coal and iron masters of
America can. The time must soon come, when, both
as regards her coal and iron, Pennsylvania can suc
cessfully compete with the foreign producer. Let
her wait for that time, instead of seeking to precipitate
it, by taxing the whole Union for the exclusive benefit
of a few capitalists in one State.

I cannot better conclude this brief glance at the
resources of Pennsylvania, than by adverting to the

96 THE WESTERN WORLD.

singularly advantageous position which she occupies
for ultimately supplying the home market with both
coal and iron. The three great seats of consumption
will be the sea-board States, the basin of the St. Law
rence, and the valley of the Mississippi. She has not
only access to all these, but is in actual territorial con
tact with them all. By the Delaware, which forms
her eastern boundary, she has a direct highway to the
Atlantic. The north-western angle of the State
abuts upon Lake Erie, and the whole of her western
portion will soon be in communication with the Lakes
by a new channel, the Genesee valley canal, designed
to unite the Allegany River with the Erie canal.
From Pittsburg, as already seen, starts the infant
Ohio on its long and majestic course, putting Penn
sylvania in connexion with the whole valley of the
Mississippi. What a prospect for this great and
rising state ! With such resources, and such means of
turning them to account, who can doubt the future
solvency of Pennsylvania ?

CHAPTER IV.

FROM PITTSBURG TO NIAGARA.

Aspect of the country from Pittsburg to Olean. — Important physical
feature between Olean and Angelica. — Drive from Angelica to
Portage. — The Falls of Portage.— The Chasm, and the Upper,
Middle, and Lower Cataracts. — Drive to Mount Morris. — The
Genesee Valley. — Geneseo. — Avon. — Scottsville. — Arrival in Eo-
chester. — Position, Business, Population, and rapid Growth of the
Town. — Its interior and its environs. — Mount Hope. — The Lower
Falls of the Genesee. — Three Cataracts again. — Sail to Carthage,
at the mouth of the River. — An invasion, and a pious Deacon. —
Afloat on Lake Ontario. — Mouth of the Niagara. — Sail up to
Queenston. — Formation of the Country. — The two great Levels. —
The Falls of Niagara.

FROM Pittsburg I had the choice of several routes to
the lakes, but on account of the beauty and variety
of its scenery, I selected that by the Genesee valley

through Western New York. My friend D had

left me at a point on the Ohio, some distance below
Pittsburg, whence he proceeded to Cumberland,
where he would get upon the Baltimore and Ohio
railway, which would convey him to his home. I
was therefore left to find my way unaccompanied to
wards Lake Ontario, and proceeded after a sojourn
of two days at Pittsburg, northward to Olean Point,
on the border of New York, at which point the
Genesee valley canal, starting from the Erie canal
at Rochester, is to communicate with the Alle-
gany River, and consequently with the valley of the
VOL. III. F

98 THE WESTERN WOULD.

Mississippi. The portion of Pennsylvania which I had
to traverse to reach this point offered to my delighted
eyes the most charming variety of scenery that I had
as yet come in contact with. The chief ridges of the
lordly Alleganies were at a considerable distance to
the east, but it is long ere the land, extending on all
sides from their bases, loses its billowy aspect and
sinks into the level plain. Almost the entire course
of the Allegany River is through a broken and ro
mantic country, rich both in superficial and internal
resources. The hills enclose an abundance of mineral
wealth in their bosoms, whilst the valleys which they
bound are fertile, and in many cases beautifully cul
tivated. The forest in this western region of the
State has as yet been but partially invaded, but
every year now witnesses the rapid exposure of new
areas to the sun. In many of the valleys there is
the richest growth of timber of almost every variety,
whilst the swelling sides of the hills are frequently
enveloped in one deep dark mantle of pine. Even
in America, where there is so great a glut of tim
ber, that which borders the Allegany is valuable.
Its proximity to the river renders it accessible to
different markets, and taking nothing else into ac
count, the increasing value of the timber alone is
rapidly enhancing the value of the soil which it en
cumbers.

Proceeding from Olean to Angelica, which is but a
short distance, I passed over some high ground, which
would have attracted but little of my attention, were
it not for the important part which it plays in the
geography of the continent. Narrow though the
ridge be, and unimposing as it is in point of altitude,
it is here the dividing line between two of the greatest

THE WESTERN WORLD. 99

river systems in the world, separating in fact the basin
of the St. Lawrence from the valley of the Mississippi.
The waters of the Allegany, and other streams which
rise on one side of it, flow towards the Gulf of Mexico;
whilst those of the Genesee and its tributaries find
their way, through Lake Ontario, to the Gulf of St.
Lawrence. Descending from this important, though
unobtrusive elevation, and proceeding in a north
easterly direction, I soon found myself in the charming
village of Angelica, the capital of Allegany county in
New York. It is close to the Genesee, and hemmed
in on all sides by bold rising grounds, most of them
wooded to their summits ; whilst the line of its
horizon is broken and undulating to a degree.

A ride of a few hours brought me from Angelica
to Portage. The country between them was of the
same uneven character as that which lay south of the
former place. The village of Portage, although in
significant in point of population, is romantically situ
ated on the left bank of the Genesee, just as the river
enters the stupendous gorge by which it forces its
way through a hilly ridge, about thirteen miles in
width. Immediately above the bridge which crosses
it at Portage, the Genesee is calm and tranquil as a
mill-pond, but a few yards below it is broken into
rapids, and goes brawling and foaming over a rocky
channel, until it is lost to the sight amid the dark
grey cliffs which overhang it.

The student of American geography will frequently,
in tracing the streams, find the word " Portage" upon
the map. It is of French origin, and denotes that,
at the point where it is found, the navigation of the
stream is interrupted by some impediment, which
compelled the early wyageurs to carry their canoes

100 THE WESTERN WORLD.

round the obstruction, until they gained a point
where the channel was again practicable. Here was
a portage of no less than thirteen miles in length, the
navigation of the Genesee being for that distance im
possible, from impediments which I now proceed to
describe.

Under the guidance of one of the villagers, I
ascended, by the main road, the long hill which rose
from the opposite bank of the river. Having gained
the summit, we diverged to the left, into a dense
forest of pine, through the twilight formed by the
dark shadows of which we forced our way, until we
approached a thicket of underwood, through which it
was scarcely possible to pass, and which veiled every
object beyond from our view. By this time, the
sound as of " many waters" fell distinctly upon my
ear, seeming to proceed from the right and from the
left, and from far beneath my feet. Caution was
enjoined upon me as we pressed through the thicket,
and not without reason, for we had not proceeded
many yards ere I could perceive, through its tangled
trellis-work of boughs, that a chasm intervened between
us and a cliff opposite, which was within two hundred
yards of us. We were on a level with its weather-
beaten brow, of which we got but an occasional
glimpse, as the wind swayed the dense foliage to and
fro. As we cautiously advanced, the naked and per
pendicular wall of rock opposite seemed to descend to
an interminable depth. We were soon upon the
verge of it next to us, but there still appeared to be
no limit to the depth of the chasm. The thick under
wood bent over the precipice, so as to conceal the
greater portion of what was beneath from our view ;
and it was only by climbing a half-grown pine that

THE WESTERN WORLD. 101

we could fairly overlook it. A scene of indescribable
grandeur then burst upon my sight. The chasm for
nearly three-quarters of a mile in length lay unveiled
at my feet. It was only here and there that I could
get a sight of the river, which was bounding from
rock to rock, and covered with foam. It was more
than 400 feet beneath me, and although its course
was in reality exceedingly rapid, yet seen from such a
height, it seemed to crawl along like a wounded
snake. It was lined on either side, and its channel
interrupted by masses of loose stone, which had fallen
one after another from the huge cliffs which rose in
gloomy grandeur over its bed, casting their ponderous
shadows upon its agitated surface. The cliffs were as
perpendicular as a wall, and the horizontal strata of
sandstone, of which they were composed, had about
them the regularity and the appearance of mason-
work. The rich foliage swept, like soft hair, in
waving masses over their beetling brows ; its warm
shades of green forming a pleasing contrast with their
cold grey sides. They stood so close to each other
that two persons standing on either side of the cleft
could converse together with but little extra effort of
the lungs.

On listening more attentively I discovered that the
sound which proceeded from the rapids below was
accompanied by a hoarser and a deeper note, which
seemed to issue from behind a slight bend in the
gorge to my left. On inquiring into the source of
this, my guide, informed me that it arose from the
falls, which were visible from a point about a quarter
of a mile above us. Emerging from the thicket, we
were not long in reaching it ; and on approaching
its verge, two magnificent cataracts broke at once

102 THE WESTERN WORLD.

upon my startled vision. The upper fall was nearly
a third of a mile from where we stood, and about
half a mile below the point at which the river
entered the gorge at Portage. I could see but little
of the stream above it as it swept suddenly round to
the left ; but the portion of it visible was broken into
rapids and white with foam. This fall is about seventy
feet in height. Immediately below it the river is
deep and tranquil, continuing so until it comes within
a few yards of the second plunge, which is preceded
by a short rapid. The second is the more stupendous
fall of the two, being 110 feet in height, and over
hung on either side with frowning masses of rock.
Directly above it, the bank on which we stood lost
its precipitous character, being covered with timber,
and shelving rapidly down to the edge of the river.
We descended, and found a ferry between the two
cataracts. Hiring the ferry-boat, we were rowed to
the upper fall, which, when closely approached, re
sembled the three sides of a rhomboid, with the
longest sides in the direction of the stream. We
sailed cautiously within its fearful walls, and, when
tossed about by the boiling caldron at its feet, were
completely surrounded on all sides but one by the
falling waters. Looking out, as it were, from the
embrace of one cataract, we could trace, through
the narrow gate by which we had entered, the
placid course of the river until it reached the line at
which it took its plunge to form another, when we
suddenly lost sight of it. Having dropped down to
the ferry, we then crossed the river to a point where
there was a short break in the other bank, near which
were a saw-mill and several wooden huts. After
scrambling up the bank we came to a high road, some

THE WESTERN WORLD. 103

distance back from the river, which we pursued for
about two miles, taking the course of the stream
which was on our right. We then crossed some
fields, and once more approached the chasm.

The bank here was not perpendicular, but it was
exceedingly steep and densely wooded — the topmost
branches of one tree waving around the roots of an
other. Looking down, nothing was visible save a
mass of foliage; but I was anxious to descend, for the
roar of another cataract was already in my ear. But
it was no easy matter to do so, from the steepness and
loose slimy character of portions of the bank. By
the aid of roots and branches, to which we clung, we
managed to descend for nearly two hundred feet,
when we suddenly emerged upon the bed of the river,
which was one mass of rock. We stood upon a broad
platform, formed by a lofty ledge, which lay across the
course of the stream. The water, however, had worn
for itself a narrow channel on this ledge, close to the
opposite bank, which was quite bare and precipitous
for some height, after which it slanted off and was
covered with wood like that which we had descended.
Pouring through this channel, as through a funnel,
the raging current was dashed against a rock which
projected at a right angle from the bank, and which
turned it suddenly to the left, to fall over another
ledge about ninety feet high, which lay not across the
river, but parallel to the two banks. When in full
flood the stream dashes furiously over the ledge on
which we stood, taking a perpendicular plunge into
the abyss below of nearly two hundred feet. For the
rest of its way through the gorge, the agitated Genesee
is a succession of rapids, overhung alternately with
steep wooded banks and stupendous precipices. About

104 THE WESTERN WOULD.

half a mile below the third and last fall, the cliffs rise
perpendicularly on either side to a height exceeding
500 feet.

Such are the falls of Portage on the Genesee,
which scarcely one traveller out of a hundred who
make the tour of the Union either sees or hears of.
Yet they are within little more than half-a-day's easy
ride of Rochester. In magnitude they cannot of
course be compared with Niagara, but in the stupen
dous character of their adjuncts they far exceed it.

I slept soundly after my day's fatiguing ramble,
and next morning proceeded towards Rochester. The
ride over the ridge was highly interesting. On my
right lay Nunda valley, speckled with clearances,
and on my left the gorge of the Genesee, which
I could trace by the grey crags which every now and
then peered over the intervening tree-tops. The
road, which is exceedingly rough at some seasons of
the year, was smooth and pleasant, some showers
overnight having laid the dust, and the gig in which
I was seated passing as softly over it as if it had been
rolling upon velvet. The air was bright and clear,
and on my gaining the summit of the ridge, Lake
Ontario was visible far to the northward, like a deep
blue line underlying the horizon. I involuntarily
rose to my feet on catching the first glimpse of one
of the links of that great freshwater chain, which
forms the most prominent feature of all in the phy
sical phenomena of America.

After a ride of nearly two hours' duration, I ap
proached the village of Mount Morris. For the last
two miles the descent was rapid. I was now fairly in
the valley of the Genesee, which extended to the
right and left as far as the eye could reach. The

THE WESTERN WORLD. 105

Genesee enters the valley at right angles, a little
below Mount Morris, emerging from between two
majestic cliffs, similar in character and grandeur to
those which rise over it at Portage. A huge dam
has been constructed here in connexion with the
Genesee Valley Canal, which crosses the river at this
point, and passing by Mount Morris, proceeds by
Nunda valley to the falls, past which it is carried by
excavations and tunnels along the very verge of the
precipice to Portage, where it again crosses the
Genesee by an aqueduct. The upper portion of the
valley, that which lies south of the point at which
the Genesee enters it, is watered by a small stream
which joins it as a tributary. After flowing over the
dam, the Genesee brawls along a broad stony channel
until it finds the lowest level of the valley, when
turning to the northward it pursues a sluggish and
serpentine course through a rich alluvial deposit to
Rochester.

Mount Morris occupies a beautiful position, about
a third of the way up the west bank of the valley.
The prospect which it commands embraces nearly the
whole of the rich and fertile county of Livingstone.
Although at the commencement of the century
scarcely a tree of the forest had been felled in it, the
greater portion of the valley between Mount Morris and
Rochester is now cleared ; its two banks, which recede
from the river in successive terraces, being covered
with waving corn-fields, and speckled with charming
and flourishing villages. The lower portions of the
valley, where the deposit of rich mould is deep, are
fertile to excess, being famed for their exuberance
throughout the country as the Genesee flats. This
favoured region is the granary of New York, and no

F 3

103 THE WESTERN WORLD.

flour is in greater repute than that which bears the
Genesee brand.

Descending from Mount Morris, the road led directly
across the valley. Whilst traversing the bottom lands
it was for two miles as flat as a bowling-green, the
wheels sinking deep into the free, black, rich mould
over which I was driven. On gaining the opposite
side, the road rose for some distance up the east bank
of the valley, after which it turned sharp to the left,
and proceeded along an elevated terrace, northward,
towards Lake Ontario. It was here that the best
views of it were to be had, and nothing could surpass
the beauty and richness of the extensive landscape
which it presented ; corn-fields and meadows alter
nating in rich succession along the bottom lands, and
on either margin of the sluggish, snake-like stream,
which lingered amongst them, whilst far up the
western bank, and along that on which I was riding,
the golden corn was either already cut, or waiting
for the sickle. I had seen nothing in America which
in appearance so nearly approximated a fertile rural
district of England.

In the course of an hour I drove up to a comfort
able hotel in the charming and beautifully situated
village of Geneseo. After dining, I again took the
road for Avon, celebrated for its mineral springs, and
lying a few miles to the northward. There I again
diverged to the left, and re-crossed the valley, passing
the Genesee by means of a covered wooden bridge
which spanned it, and pursuing my way on its left
bank soon reached the village of Scottsville. Thence
a ride of twelve miles, all through the richest country,
and the last eight of which led by the margin of the
river, brought me to the city of Rochester. It was

THE WESTERN WORLD. 107

nearly sunset, when, on gaining the top of a low hill,
about a mile to the south of it, and over which the
road led through a thick wood, the town burst in an
instant upon my view ; and few scenes could surpass
in beauty that which then lay before me — the city
lying below in the midst of a spacious plain, with its
spires, towers, and cupolas gleaming brightly in the
golden lustre of an autumn evening.

There is no other town in America, the history of
which better illustrates the rapid progress of material
and moral civilization in the United States, than that
of the city of Rochester. In 1812, but a single log
hut occupied the site of the present city. In the
short space of thirty-six years it has spread over both
banks of the Genesee, until it now contains upwards
of 30,000 souls. Ten years hence, computing it at
the ratio in which it now progresses, its population
will exceed 50,000. It is now pretty equally divided
between the two banks of the river, although for
many years the bulk of it was confined to the west
bank, which was for some time wet and marshy, but is
now drained and rendered perfectly healthy. The city
takes its name from that of its founder, Colonel Ro
chester, the numerous members of whose family have
ever taken the most prominent position in the pleasant
and highly-cultivated social circle which exists in it.

That which attracted the first settlers to the site of
the future city, was the inexhaustible and easily avail
able water power which the Genesee there afforded
them. From the point at which it escapes from the
gorge at Mount Morris, the course of the river con
tinues sluggish and smooth until it is fairly within
the precincts of the city, when it becomes once more
disturbed by rapids, which are but the precursors of a

108 THE WESTERN WORLD.

still greater change. Before reaching Lake Ontario,
which is but seven miles distant, the Genesee is des
tined to take three additional plunges, like those which
it takes at Portage, over three successive ledges of
rock. The three falls which here occur are all within
the municipal limits of Rochester. At the city the
bed of the river is from two to three hundred feet
above the level of Lake Ontario. The surface of the
country falls but little on approaching the lake, but the
channel of the river rapidly declines, and gains the
level of the lake at a point about two miles and a half
below the densely-built portion of the town. The
first obvious declination of the channel occurs about a
quarter of a mile above the upper fall. The smooth
current is broken by some shallow ledges of rock,
and ere it has proceeded three hundred yards, be
comes a foaming rapid. In the midst of this, and
upon the solid rock forming the bed of the river, stands
a magnificent stone aqueduct, by means of which the
Erie canal is carried across the river. The agitated
and chafing waters pour with impetuous velocity
through its seven noble arches, and it forms alto
gether one of the finest specimens of bridge archi
tecture in the world. It is built of granite, and was
completed about five years ago, when it replaced
another aqueduct of smaller dimensions, which had
been constructed of a species of red sandstone, which
rapidly decomposed on exposure to the elements.
Above the aqueduct is a wooden bridge, by means of
which the southern portions of the city communicate
with each other. Immediately below it is another
bridge, in the line of the main street of the town.
From the upper bridge to the fall the rapids continue
with but little intermission. At its first great leap

THE WESTERN WOULD. 109

the Genesee here takes a perpendicular plunge of
ninety-six feet, the width of the fall being about a
furlong. This is decidedly the finest fall in the whole
course of the river, although its adjuncts, in point of
scenery, fall infinitely short of those of the Portage
falls. Above it, where the city is chiefly built, the
banks of the river are low, but immediately below
they become lofty, rugged, and picturesque.

The extensive water power, of which the city has
so largely availed itself, is furnished by the rapids
and the upper fall. Almost from where the former
commence, to a point a considerable distance below
the latter, both banks are lined with flour-mills, tan
neries, saw-mills, and manufactories of various kinds.
Rochester has thus no quays upon the river, a great
defect so far as its appearance is concerned. Like
London, it turns its back, as it were, upon the noblest
feature in its site.

Ever since its foundation the chief manufacture of
Rochester has been that of flour. It is not only the
principal place for the manufacture of this commo
dity in the United States, but also, perhaps, in the
whole world. There are several mills in it which can
turn out 500 barrels of flour per day, and the aggre
gate quantity manufactured in it last year very nearly
amounted to a million of barrels. The wheat which
it grinds is chiefly the produce of the fertile valley
which lies behind it. Recently, however, factories of
different kinds have sprung up within it, and coarse
calicos, broad-cloths, and edge-tools now figure
largely amongst the products of its industry. For
all this it is indebted to its inexhaustible water
power.

The great western line of railway, uniting the sea-

110 -THE WESTERN WORLD.

coast at Boston with Lake Erie at Buffalo, is carried
over the Grenesee on a somewhat ricketty-looking
wooden bridge, not much more than thirty yards
above the fall. Many a timid traveller shrinks in
crossing it, when he looks from the gleaming rapids
which are shooting the bridge with fearful velocity
beneath him, to the verge of the cataract upon which
he could almost leap from the train.

Between the upper and the middle fall, to which
a romantic walk leads the tourist, along the precipices
on either side, the river is almost one continued series
of gentle rapids. About a couple of miles intervene
between the two cataracts, and the water power
afforded by the rapids is available at most points. In
many places the banks are naked and precipitous,
and of the same character as those of Portage, though
by no means on the same gigantic scale. At other
points they slope gently down to the river, covered
with grass, the timber having been cleared away from
them, whilst here and there a piece of flat ground
intervenes between the stream and the bank, which
recedes for a short distance in an amphitheatric sweep
from the water. These spots will yet be occupied by
streets, mills, and factories. The middle fall is inferior
to the other two, the plunge not exceeding thirty feet.
Paper and other manufacturing establishments line
the west bank immediately below it, which is one of
the pieces of flat ground alluded to above. From
this to the lower fall the distance is about a quarter
of a mile, the river rapidly descending between them by
a series of brawling rapids. The height of the lower
fall is upwards of seventy feet, and although inferior
both in height and width to the upper one, it is by
far the grandest and most striking of the three. As

THE WESTERN WORLD. Ill

the surface of the country but slightly declines, the
banks of the river become higher and more rugged
with every foot which is descended. Above the upper
fall they are so low that the river sometimes over
flows them ; whilst immediately after its last plunge,
they rise for upwards of 200 feet over the stream.
There they are formed of a red crumbling sandstone,
which seems to be the basis of the region immediately
contiguous to the lake.

It is a few hundred yards below the lower fall, and
about four miles from Lake Ontario, that the vexed
and agitated Genesee may be said to reach its final
level. From that point to the lake its current is
extremely sluggish, and indeed, when strong north
erly winds prevail for some time, the waters of Ontario
are driven up into its channel. Its course is brief,
but there is no other river in America which under
goes so many mutations of channel within the same
distance. At the village of Portage, about fifty
miles from the lake, its bed is upwards of 800 feet
above the level of the great reservoir which receives
it. Indeed, in passing through the portion of Ro
chester already built, which is about seven miles from
the Lake, it is nearly 300 feet above the level of the
lake, which it finally gains after a short run of two
miles and a quarter.

Rochester is admirably seated for commerce. By
means of the Genesee and Lake Ontario it is put in
direct communication with Canada West, with which
it carries on a trade already great, and almost capable
of indefinite increase. The Canadian ports, between
which and it a direct steamboat communication has
been established, are Kingston, at the foot of the
lake; Cobourg, aboutseventy miles distant; and directly
opposite the mouth of the Genesee, Toronto, the

THE WESTERN WORLD.

capital of what was once the Upper Province ; and
Niagara and Queenston, on the river Niagara. The
two American ports with which it is likewise in com
munication are Lewiston, opposite Queenston, and
Oswego, on the south bank of the lake, and about
sixty miles east of the Genesee. It also communi
cates with Lake Erie and the Hudson, by the Erie
canal which passes through it ; whilst western Penn
sylvania and the valley of the Mississippi will soon
be accessible to it through the Genesee Valley Canal.
Its capabilities for becoming an important seat of
manufacture have already been noticed. It is now
the third city in point of population in the State, and
will soon take its place permanently as the second,
standing in the same relation towards New York as
Manchester occupies towards London.

The city is elegantly built, the streets being wide
and well paved, and, where the nature of the ground
admits of it, intersecting each other at right angles.
Such as are of a private character are, as in most
American towns, embowered in foliage.

About a mile to the south of the city, and on the
east bank of the Genesee, is a very rugged piece of
ground, partly shrouded in copse-wood, and partly
covered by the trees of the forest. This has been
set apart as a cemetery, and is being laid out for this
purpose with appropriate taste. It is composed of
a number of small hillocks, with deep romantic dells
between them, the vaults and burial lots being ar
ranged in terraces along their sides. To me it possesses
a melancholy interest, inasmuch as it contains the ashes
of some whose memories I cherish and revere. It has on
the whole a better effect than Mount Auburn, there
being less of art and more of nature about it than
about the Boston cemetery. That of Rochester is

THE WESTERN WORLD. 113

designated Mount Hope, and from its highest peak,
from which the timber has been cleared away, sweet
glimpses of the town are caught between the tree-
tops immediately below. You can almost distin
guish the hum of the busy city of the living from the
midst of the silent city of the dead; whilst you have
within the range of your vision an impressive epitome
of human life in the factory, the spire, and the tomb
stone.

The principal charm of Rochester is in its social
circle, which is intellectual, highly cultivated, hos
pitable, frank, and warm-hearted. Some time pre
viously, whilst sojourning for a considerable period in
the city, I had every opportunity extended to me of
mingling freely with its society ; nor can the busy
scenes or the excitements of life ever suffice to erase
from my mind the remembrance of the many pleasant
days which I have spent, or the recollection of the
many friends whom 1 have left behind, in Rochester.

For Niagara at last ! With what highly wrought
anticipations did I prepare for the journey ! I had a
choice of routes, by railway to Lewiston and thence
to the Falls, or by steamer from the Genesee to
Lewiston. Anxious to find myself afloat upon one
of the great lakes, I preferred the latter, and pro
ceeded at an early hour on a fine summer morning to
the upper port of Rochester, which is about half a
mile below the lower fall, and nearly four miles from
the lake. Descending a long and steep hill, cut with
great labour and at a heavy cost along the abrupt
sides of the lofty wooded bank, I reached the river,
and put my luggage on board the steamer which was
moored to a low wooden wharf. As I was about an
hour before the time of starting, 1 hired a boat and

114 THE WESTERN WORLD.

dropped down to the mouth of the river, where, on
its left bank, stands the village of Carthage, the lower
port of the Genesee. I have seldom enjoyed a more
delightful sail. The high banks which rise on either
side were buried in foliage, except where, here and
there, the red sandstone protruded through the rich
soft moss. The channel being winding, my eye was
charmed with a constant succession of pictures, until
at length, on turning a low naked point on the right,
the boundless volume of Lake Ontario lay rolling
before me.

I landed at Carthage and awaited the steamer,
which always touches at it on her way. If the
original Carthage played an important figure in the
wars of Rome, its modern namesake is not wholly
unconnected with the military annals of America.
During the last war an expedition, under the com
mand of Sir James Yeo, landed here, and proceeded
up the west bank of the Genesee, with a view to
capture Rochester, which was then but in the germ.
The citizens, with one exception, turned out manfully
for the defence of the place, and hastily constructed
a breastwork on the southern bank of a ravine, about
three miles to the north of the city, and which the
invaders would have to pass to attain the object of the
expedition. The exception was that of an old deacon,
who was as brave as a lion, but who believed that he
could best serve his country's cause by remaining
behind and praying for the rest, who had gone forth
to fight. "Whether from want of spirit on the part
of the invaders, the valour of the citizens, or the
deacon's prayers, has not yet been ascertained, but it
is an historical fact that the expedition never passed
the ravine. Sir James immediately afterwards em-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 115

barked his forces again at Carthage; and if in his
next despatch he was not able to say, Delenda est
Carthago, it was because at the time there was little
or nothing in it to destroy. The modern Marius sat
not amongst the ruins of a past, but amongst the
germs of a future town.

After a stay of five minutes at Carthage, the
steamer resumed her journey, gliding into the lake
from between two long parallel jetties, which form
the entrance into the harbour. The sun shone
brightly, not a cloud being visible above the horizon,
whilst the fresh breeze which came with cooling in
fluence from the north-west, agitated the surface of
the deep blue lake. There was nothing to indicate
that I had not been suddenly launched upon the wide
ocean. On our left, as we steamed up the lake, we
had the low shore of New York ; but on our right,
and behind and before us, no sign of land was visible.
I tasted the water, which was pure, sweet and fresh,
ere I could divest myself of the belief that it was the
sea after all. I had already had ample experience of
the gigantic scale on which nature has fashioned the
other great features of the continent. I had traversed
the plain, whose boundaries seemed to fly from my
approach, and had traced for thousands of miles, the
river and the mountain chain ; in addition to which
my mind was fully impressed with the immense size
of the North American lakes ; but I was not prepared
for half the surprise which I felt, on actually finding,
when thus afloat upon one of them, the horizon rest
upon a boundless waste of waters. Violence was at
once done to all my preconceived notions of a lake,
one of which was that it should, at least, have visible
boundaries. But the mind expands or contracts with

116 THE WESTERN WOULD.

the occasion, and so accustomed did I soon become to
objects whose magnitude at first overwhelmed me,
that I frequently afterwards found myself, for a day
at a time, entirely out of sight of land on these fresh
water seas, without deeming the circumstance in the
least degree extraordinary. Lake Ontario is the
smallest of the great chain ; but it extends, never
theless, for upwards of 200 miles from east to west,
whilst its average width is about sixty miles. Opposite
the mouth of the Genesee, it is fully seventy miles
wide. Yachts and pleasure boats deck the surface of
our English lakes ; hostile fleets have come in collision
on those of America. The waters of the latter are
ploughed by the steamboat, the brig, and the schooner,
in time of peace, and by the thundering frigate in
time of war. In the fall of the year, the American
lakes are frequently visited by disastrous tempests,
when a sea runs in them which would do no discredit
to the Atlantic in one of its wildest moods, and great
loss of life and property is sometimes occasioned. In
the early days of the province of Upper Canada, and
before the introduction of steamers, the passage of
the lake was made by means of schooners or other
sailing craft. On one occasion a schooner-load of
judges, clerks of assize, attornies, and barristers-at-law,
left Toronto for Cobourg, seventy miles distant, to
attend circuit. Neither the vessel nor crew was ever
heard of. They had all perished in a tempest. There
were not wanting those who were impious enough to
deem the visitation a good riddance. To supply the
void thus made, lawyers were afterwards created by
act of parliament.

It was towards evening when we made the mouth
of the Niagara River, which discharges the surplus

THE WESTERN WORLD. 117

waters of Lake Erie into Lake Ontario, entering the
latter on its south bank, and about fifty miles below
its western extremity. It is the dividing line between
the different jurisdictions of Canada and New York,
where the two systems stand confronting each other,
which are now battling for supremacy throughout the
world. There can be but little question as to which
of them is ultimately to prevail, whether for good or
for evil, in the New World. Neither bank is high
at the mouth of the river, but both are abrupt. A
fort occupies the point on either side. Over that on
the left, as you enter, floats the gorgeous flag of the
Union ; over the other, the ubiquitous emblem of
England. They are now streaming quietly in the
breeze, but the times have been when they were
wreathed in smoke and dragged in blood. There was
no portion of the frontier which, during the last war,
witnessed so many desperate and internecine conflicts,
as the grand and majestic link in the long boundary
which stretches from the one lake to the other.

We touched at the town of Niagara on the Canada
side, lying some distance back from the river, on
a gentle acclivity. Directly opposite, and on the
northern shore of the lake, lay Toronto, at a distance
of about thirty-six miles, its width rapidly diminishing
as the lake approaches its western extremity. At the
mouth of the Niagara we were but fourteen miles
from the Falls, and my impatience to proceed was
;ilmost beyond control. After a few minutes' stay
at the wharf, we proceeded up the broad deep river.
The bank on either side became loftier as we
ascended, being, for the most part, covered with
timber. The current ran swiftly, but was not broken
into rapids, its blistered looking surface indicating at

118 THE WESTERN WORLD.

once its depths and its impetuosity. The shades of
evening were darkening the landscape as we arrived
at Queenston, seven miles up, and at the head
of the navigation of the river from Lake Ontario.
The American town of Lewiston lay on the opposite
bank of the river, but I stepped ashore, ere the steamer
crossed to it, and found myself, after an absence of
many months, once more on British soil.

It is easy, from either Queenston or Lewiston, to
discern the rationale of the Falls. Both these places
lie at the foot of a steep ridge, which extends, like a
chain of hills, from either bank of the river, across the
country. On gaining the summit of this ridge, you
do not descend again into a valley on its opposite
side, but find yourself on an elevated plateau which
constitutes the level of Lake Erie. The Falls are
thus occasioned by the surplus waters of Lake Erie
descending to the lower level of Lake Ontario. The
whole descent is not made by the Falls, there being
a series of rapids both above and below them, those
below extending for seven miles to Queenston. There
the river, emerging from the ridge, as from a colossal
gateway, pours with impetuous velocity into the
broader and smoother channel, by which it glides
into Lake Ontario. It is evident that the Falls must
at first have been at the point where the country
suddenly sinks to the level of that lake, in other
words, at Queenston, from which, during the lapse of
ages, they have gradually worn their way back to
their present position, seven miles from that town.
The channel which they have thus carved through the
upper level is narrow, and overhung by frowning and
precipitous banks, the rocks being in some places,
bare and naked as a wall, and in others interspersed

THE WESTERN WORLD. 119

with rich forest timber. It is one continuous rapid
the whole way, flowing with such impetuosity that at
a point a little below the Whirlpool, where the chan
nel is more than usually contracted, the level of the
water in the middle is elevated from five to seven feet
above that of the current at either side. But let me
hurry to the Falls.

After taking some refreshment in Queenston, I
proceeded by a private conveyance along the main
road, preferring that to the railway, on which the
trains are drawn by horses. Mounting the steep hill
which rises directly from the town, I had ample
opportunity of surveying the battle-ground on which
was fought one of the sharpest conflicts in the annals
of the war of 1812. The British were the victors on
the occasion, and the monument raised to the honour
of their commander, who fell gloriously on the field,
occupied the highest point of the hill. It is as tall,
and quite as ugly, as the Duke of York's column in
Waterloo-place. A rent several inches in width
traversed it from the pedestal to the capital, occasioned
by an attempt made to blow it up with gunpowder,
by a vagabond connected with the insurrection in
1838, whose ambition was on a level with that of the
wretch who fired York Minster. On gaining the top
of the hill, the road for a little distance wound very
near the verge of the precipice, at a point where
several of the American troops were driven over the
crags during the conflict. Before proceeding any
further I turned round to gaze on the prospect which
spread beneath us. It was gorgeous and extensive.
The level of Lake Ontario was displayed for a great
distance on either hand to the view, large sections of
Canada and New York, richly cultivated, lying, as it

120 THE WESTERN WORLD.

were, beneath our feet, the broad blue lake itself
forming a glorious background to the picture. From
the top of the monument the view is still more ex
tensive, Toronto being visible on the opposite side.

It was a warm still evening, and it was only after a
brisk drive of nearly an hour's duration that I came
within reach of the cataract's voice. I had been long
listening for its thundering tones, but could not dis
tinguish them until I was within a couple of miles of
the Falls. Were Niagara calling aloud from a hill
top, there might be some foundation for the fabulous
accounts which are sometimes given of the distances
at which it can be heard ; but thundering as it does
at the bottom of a deep chasm, its mighty roar is
smothered amongst the crags that rise around it.

I drove up to the Pavilion Hotel, situated on a high
bank which overlooks the cataract. A lovely moon
was by this time shining in the deep blue sky, the
air was rent with unceasing thunders, and the earth
as I touched it seemed to tremble beneath my feet.

To my surprise and delight I found a large party
of Canadian friends at the Pavilion. They had but
just arrived after a fatiguing journey from the West,
and, with the exception of three, were preparing to
retire for the night. The three consisted of two
ladies and a gentleman, who were determined to en
joy a moonlight view of the Falls. It needed no very
great persuasive powers to induce me to accompany
them ; so after ordering a good supper to be prepared
for us, we set out in search of the cataract.

The high, wooded bank on which the Pavilion
rests, rises for nearly 200 feet above the upper level
of the Niagara River. It has consequently to be de
scended before the tourist finds himself upon the level

THE WESTERN WOULD. 121

of the verge of the cataraat. From the observatory
on the top of the Pavilion it is visible in all its
length and depth, but from the windows and balconies
of the hotel the American Fall only can be seen, the
lofty trees on the bank screening the great Canada
Fall. The moon being in the south, the face even of
the American Fall, which has a north-western aspect,
was buried in the deepest shade. We could hear the
voice of the cataract in all its majesty, but as yet got
no glimpse of its terrible countenance.

Passing through the garden behind the hotel, and
emerging from a small postern gate, we found our
selves on the top of the bank. We had a guide with
us, and needed him. Our path zigzagged down the
steep descent, and we had to grope and feel our way,
which was only occasionally visible to us by a few
faint bars of moonlight falling upon it after struggling
through the foliage. At last we got upon level ground,
and as we threaded our way through the heavy tim
ber, we became more and more enveloped in the
spray. Emerging from the dense wood of the bank,
we found ourselves, after a few steps in advance, upon
TABLE ROCK.

Drenched and blinded as we were by the dense
spray, which now fell less in showers than in masses
around us, for a time we could see nothing, although
a roar as of ten thousand thunders fell upon our ears.
At length, after recovering ourselves, we looked in
the direction of the cataract, but for a few minutes
we could discern nought but the thick mist, in
which we were enveloped, faintly illuminated by the
moonbeams. A slight puff of wind at last drove it
a little aside, and revealed to us the rapids above,
gleaming in the cold moonlight as they shot and

VOL. TTT. G

122 THE WESTERN WOULD.

foamed over the rocky channel. We could thus trace
them to the very line where the maddened waters took
their great leap, beyond which all was darkness, mys
tery, noise and turmoil. We could observe the cata
ract take its plunge, butcould not catch asingle glimpse
of its descent, or of the abyss into which it fell. In
addition to the roar of the falling waters, a hissing
noise stole up to us from the chasm, produced by the
seething and foaming river beneath, whilst every now
and then the faint voice of the American Fall, far
below upon our left, would mingle with the deep
chorus which swelled around us. We were within
a few feet of the verge of the chasm where we stood,
each having hold of the guide, who warned us not to
approach a step beyond the spot to which he had led
us. Although we saw nothing beyond the rapids
above the Fall, the grey mist, and occasionally Goat
Island, which loomed in spectral outline through it,
there was something awful and sublime in the deep
obscurity and the mystery which reigned over the
scene, the impressiveness of which was enhanced by
the incessant thunders which emanated from the abyss.
On returning to the hotel, 1 immediately mounted
to the observatory, from which I enjoyed a magni
ficent prospect. Goat Island lay beneath me, as did
also the American bank, and the branch of the river
which rolled impetuously between them, as well as
the whole of the rapids, between the island and the
Canada shore. But from the verge of the cataract
downwards, the moonbeams were absorbed by an
enormous cloud of spray. When I retired to rest,
notwithstanding all my efforts to get a sight of them,
I had as yet only seen where the Falls were, but not
the Falls themselves ; but I consoled myself on going

THE WESTERN WORLD. 123

to sleep with the reflection that it was Niagara that
was chaunting my lullaby.

I awoke early next morning with the cataract
booming in my ears, leapt out of bed, and threw
aside the window curtain. The sight which then
broke upon me only deepened the impression which
the moonlight view of the previous evening had left
upon my mind. The morning was still, dull, and
cloudy, and mystery yet hung over the scene, for the
vast chasm below me was filled with a grey thick
cloud, which, surging upwards, mingled with the tree-
tops on the bank, and which now and then, when a
breath of air impelled it, moved majestically upon the
hotel. The whole atmosphere around seemed to be
filled with vapour, and it was not until a slight puff
from the west drove the thick cloud before it through
the foliage of Goat Island, that the American Fall
became visible to me. It was on my left, and about
a third of a mile below, and seemed to tumble over
the opposite bank. I had scarcely time to notice its
snow-white mass of falling waters, ere a column of
mist, eddying in the chasm, floated majestically before
it, and veiled it from my view. Once more, although
deafened by the noise, I could see nothing but vapour,
which rose in successive masses from the abyss, and
went trailing in detached fragments over the landscape
beyond.

Having hurriedly dressed, I descended alone, by
our zigzag path of the night before, to Table Rock.
The spray was as thick as ever, and in a few minutes
I was drenched to the skin. I looked with straining
eye in the direction of the Fall, but it was some
time ere a rent in its deep veil permitted me to get a
glimpse of it. I then saw a portion of it, as one sees

124 THE WESTERN WORLD.

an object through several thicknesses of gauze. I
could neither trace the outline of the Fall, nor mea
sure its extent; for as the cloud opened and shut,
enabling me to get momentary views of it, I could
only discern, as in a twilight, a mass of angry waters
tumbling before me ; but could see neither the
verge, the chasm below, nor the rapids above. This
is certainly one of the sublimest aspects in which
Niagara presents itself. Veiled in its thick robe of
clouds, it seems to shun the gaze of every living
thing ; and when it does partially withdraw the mantle
which envelopes it, it is only to exhibit, in the
midst of mysteries, the sternest features of its awful
countenance.

Reascending the bank, my first object was to effect
a change of raiment, after which I breakfasted and
sallied forth again with my friend, in quest of the
cataract. As we were not waterproof, we prudently
avoided the neighbourhood of Table Rock, and pro
ceeding along a beautiful path which skirted the
verge of the upper bank, made our way towards the
Clifton House, which is built upon a point opposite
the American Fall, from which the whole cataract can
be viewed. The sky was by this time clear of clouds,
and the sun shone down with great power and dazzling
brilliancy. We strolled leisurely on, and it was ten
o'clock ere we reached the Clifton House.

Mighty was the change which had in the mean
time been effected in the whole aspect of Niagara.
The mist which had hung so heavily around it in the
morning, had been dissipated by the sun, the spray
being now confined to the white fleecy masses which
floated around its base, with the exception of one
solitary column which shot up from the centre of the

THE WESTERN WOULD. 125

Horseshoe Fall, and waved like a streaming pennon
over the tree-tops of Goat Island. Taking my stand
under the colonnade of the Clifton House, Niagara
was thus, for the first time, displayed to me in all its
glorious outline.

The dream of my childhood was then realised \
How often, and how fondly, had that moment of un
utterable ecstasy been anticipated by me; when oceans,
plains, lakes and mountains yet intervened between
Niagara and me ! Now all these were cast behind,
and, after a devious journey of seven thousand miles,
I stood at last confronting the cataract. It was the
goal which I had set to my long and varied wander
ings, and it was some time ere I could assure myself
that I had really reached it. All the pictures which
my imagination had formerly conjured up of it were
dispelled by the reality before me. Its name from
that moment ceased to be associated in my mind with
vague and shadowy outlines ; it became henceforth
inseparably connected with a distinct and awful reality.
I remained gazing upon it for some time in speechless
emotion ; and sounds which under other circum-
stances would have been sweet and familiar to me, by
distracting my attention grated like profanity upon
my ears.

It is impossible to imagine a position in which the
inadequacy of speech, as the vehicle of expression for
thought and feeling, is more thoroughly demonstrated
than this. A tumult of emotions crowd upon the
soul ; pressing, but in vain, for utterance. It is its
greatness and majesty, but, above all, the power, dis
played in the scene, that awes and overwhelms you.
In all that you have hitherto seen there is nothing
to prepare you for Niagara. It has no compeer.

126 THE WESTERN WORLD.

Your gaze is riveted, until every thought and feel
ing are absorbed by it. You identify it with your
self, until you feel as if you were part and parcel
of each other ; and unwelcome indeed is the incident
which recalls you to a consciousness of your separate
existence. It is then that an overpowering sense of
your own insignificance comes upon you ; for you
cannot help feeling that countless generations such as
you, will live, flourish, and decay, ere Niagara ceases
to roll, or its mighty voice is dumb.

Immediately above the falls, the width of the river
is about three-quarters of a mile ; and, but for the
intervention of Goat Island, the cataract would ex
tend, without interruption, for nearly that distance,
from the Canadian to the American bank. As seen
from the Clifton House, the Canada or Horseshoe
Fall, designated by the latter name on account of its
deep bend inwards, is the farthest removed from you ;
the American Fall seeming to form part of the bank
directly opposite on your left. In hearing the Canada
and American Fall spoken of, let not the reader
suppose that they are successive cataracts, the one
occurring after the other. If they were suddenly dried
up, the ledges over which they respectively plunge
would form, with the curtain-wall of Goat Island,
which divides them, one continuous precipice from
bank to bank. Or if the surface of Goat Island were
cleared away, so that the current could roll over
it, the fall of water would be continuous from bank to
bank. The mighty ledge, of which the dry naked
precipice presented to the chasm by the island is
thus but the middle portion, does not extend directly
across the stream, but in a long, somewhat irregular
and oblique line, forming a scarcely perceptible angle

THE WESTERN WORLD. 127

with the American bank, where it strikes it, and
giving the American Fall the appearance of being oc
casioned by a tributary here uniting with the main
stream, and tumbling over its rocky and precipitous
bank. The dry precipice of Goat Island occupies
about a quarter of the whole extent of the ledge, one
half of it being fully appropriated by the Canada, and
the remaining quarter by the American, Fall. Not
withstanding the great height of the fall, which is
from 170 to 200 feet, its enormous width gives it,
when the whole is seen at a glance, the appearance of
being wanting in altitude.

The reader who is acquainted with the localities of
London, may, from the following illustration, form
some faint idea of the magnitude of Niagara. Let
him suppose a ledge of rock, nearly as lofty as its
towers, commencing at Westminster Abbey, and after
running down Whitehall, turning, at Charing Cross,
into the Strand, and continuing on to Somerset House.
Let him then suppose himself on Waterloo bridge,
whence every point of the mighty precipice could be
seen. Let him lastly suppose an immense volume of
water falling over the whole of it, with the exception
of a portion extending, say, from the Home Office to
the Admiralty, which is left dry, — and he may have
some notion of the extent of the great cataract. The
tumbling and foaming mass extending from Somerset
House to the Admiralty, would, with the bend at
Charing Cross, occupy the place of the Horseshoe
or Canada Fall ; the dry rock, between the Admiralty
and the Home Office, that of the precipice of Goat
Island ; and the continuation of the cataract, between
the Home Office and the Abbey, that of the Ame
rican Fall.

128 THE WESTERN WORLD.

Notwithstanding the magnitude of its proportions,
it must be confessed that the first sight of it disap
points the majority of those who visit it. The reason
of this, in my opinion, is, that the first view of it is
obtained from an elevation far above it. In attempt
ing to picture it to themselves before seeing it, people
generally place themselves in a position from which
they look up to it. The lower level of a fall is
decidedly the most advantageous point from which to
view it ; and were Niagara first seen from below, the
most magnificent creations of fancy would be found
to come far short of the reality. But when, instead
of being looked up to, it is looked down upon, one's
preconceived notions of it are outraged, and the real
picture is almost the inverse of the fancy one. Be
sides, to see it all at a glance, you must stand a con
siderable distance from it, and the angle with which
it then falls upon the eye is much smaller than if you
attempted to grasp it from a nearer point of view.
But, despite the first disappointment, no one re
mains long enough about Niagara to become familiar
with it, without feeling that the reality is far grander
and more stupendous than he had ever conceived it to
be. Such was the case with myself. I have visited
Niagara four different times, my average stay each
time being about five days, and left it each time more
and more impressed with its magnitude and sublimity.
At first one regards it as a whole, of the extent of
which he can form no very definite idea ; but, by-and-
by, he learns to estimate its magnitude, by applying
to it appreciable standards of measurement. When he
comes thus to understand it, he finds that the American
Fall, the smaller of the two, would of itself have suf
ficed to meet all his preconceptions.

THE WESTERN WOULD. 129

No one should stay for less than a week at Niagara.
There are scores of different points from which, to
appreciate it, it must be viewed. It should be seen
from above and from below the point at which it
occurs; from the level of the ledge from which it
plunges, and of the abyss into which it falls ; from the
top of the bank far above the rapids, and from the
boiling and surging ferry, over which the tourist is
conveyed by a small boat almost to the foot of the
American Fall. It is when viewed from the top of
the American bank close to this fall, that its enormous
width can be best appreciated. It should also be seen
from every point of Goat Island from which a view
of it can be obtained. The island is gained by a
wooden bridge, which crosses the American branch of
the river in the very midst of the rapids. How a
bridge could be constructed on such a spot, baffles
comprehension. On your left as you cross, such is
the rapid descent of the channel, that the water
seems to pour down the side of a hill. On your
right is the verge of the American Fall, not a furlong
off. You are conscious that, should you fall in, a single
minute would suffice to plunge you into the abyss.

Once on Goat Island, you are between the cataracts,
both of which you may see from different portions of
its wooded surface, as well as from the bottom of its
precipice, which you can descend by a spiral wooden
staircaise. When you descend, you are still between
the cataracts, being now, however, at their feet,
instead of on their upper level. To get from the one
to the other, you have to scramble over broken masses
of rock, and along narrow ledges which have been
converted into pathways. Let not the tourist forget
to place himself close to the American Fall on the
G 3

130 THE WESTERN WORLD.

upper level of Goat Island. If the day is bright, and
he has an eye for colours, he will linger long to enjoy
the rich treat before him. Taking a mere casual
glance at it, the falling mass appears to be snow-white,
but by looking steadily into it he can analyse the
white into almost every colour and shade. This he
can also do on looking at the Horseshoe Fall from the
other side of Goat Island. It is from this point that
the rainbow which spans the chasm, when the day is
hright, is best seen. You have to look far down
upon it, for it lives only amid the snow-white spray
which mantles the foot of the cataract.

On the Canada side of the Horseshoe Fall, the
tourist can pass for about 150 feet between the sheet
of water and the rock. Whilst there, he perceives
how the cataract is gradually receding. The rock
below crumbles before the action of the water, and the
superincumbent mass falls when it is deprived of
sufficient support underneath. The rate at which it
thus recedes is about a foot per year. At this rate it
must have taken about 4,000 years to wear its way
back from Queenston. It is still about eighteen
miles from Lake Erie, which, at the same rate, it will
take upwards of 100,000 years more to reach ! It is
worth while to go under the sheet, were it only for
the view of the fall which you obtain from the foot of
the spiral staircase by which you descend from Table
Rock. There is no other spot from which Niagara
can be seen in all its majesty as it can from this. You
are close to the great fall, and at its very feet. Look
ing up to it you see nothing but it and the heavens
above it, when it appears like a world of waters tumbling
from the very clouds. At its two extremities the
water is of a dazzling white, from the point at which

THE WESTERN WOULD. 131

it takes its leap ; but in the centre, and in the deepest
part of the bend, where the volume is greatest, it
preserves its pale green colour, streaked with white
veins like marble for fully two-thirds of its way down.
Let me repeat, that but for this view it would not be
worth while to go under the sheet ; to do which, one
has to change his warm dry clothing for a cold wet
oil-cloth suit, and his boots for heavy clogs which are
soaked from morning till night, and to penetrate
masses of eddying spray which nearly blind and choke
him, under the guidance of a damp negro, who is
never dry.

Niagara would appear to greater advantage were its
adjuncts on a much greater scale. It is like a vast
picture in a meagre frame. The banks are lofty,
picturesque, and bold ; but they are by no means on
a scale commensurate with the magnitude of the
cataract. It has no rival in the admiration of those
who behold it. It is itself the only object seen or
thought of, when you are in its presence.

The walks about Niagara, along both banks, and
on Goat Island, are numerous and attractive, those
on the island particularly so.

Once seen, the impression which it leaves is an
enduring one. It becomes henceforth a part of one's
intellectual being, not the plaything of his imagina
tion, but the companion of his thoughts. You can
recall at pleasure every feeling and emotion which it
conjured up on first beholding it. As I saw Niagara
and heard it then, so I see and hear it now.

CHAPTER V.

ARTIFICIAL IRRIGATION OF THE UNITED STATES.—
RIVALRY BETWEEN CANADA AND NEW YORK FOR
THE CARRYING TRADE OF THE NORTH-WEST. — THE
NAVIGATION LAWS.

Buffalo. — The Canal System of the United States. — The Erie Canal.
— Other New York Canals. — The great and subsidiary Canals of
Pennsylvania. — The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal.— The James
River, and Kanawha Canal. — Canals in the Mississippi Valley. —
The Carrying-trade of the North- west.— What it is. — The Region
constituting the North-west. — The Lakes, and the Lake-trade. —
Comparison of the Routes to Tide-water, from the foot of Lake
Erie, through New York, by the Erie Canal, and through Canada,
by the St. Lawrence and the St. Lawrence Canals. — The injurious
effects of the Navigation Laws upon the Trade of Canada. — The
necessity for their Repeal.

ON leaving the Falls T ascended the river to Buffalo,
which is situated at the foot of Lake Erie, on the
American bank, and is at present the great entrepot of
the internal trade of the North-west. Although
nearly 600 miles from the coast, Buffalo exhibits all
the characteristics of a maritime town. Indeed, to
all intents and purposes it is so, the lake navigation
with which it is connected being in length at least
equal to that of the Mediterranean. It is beautifully
situated on a sloping bank overlooking the lake, and
is built and laid out with all the taste which marks in
this respect most of the towns of Western New York.
Its population is about equal to that of Rochester ;

THE WESTERN WORLD. 133

and the two towns keep abreast of each other in their
rapid progress. Buffalo has more of a floating popu
lation than Rochester, — a feature in which it re
sembles all towns which partake more or less of a
seaport character.

Lake Erie is preeminently an American, as Lake
Ontario is a Canadian, lake. Both serve equally as
the boundary between the British province and the
Union ; but Lake Ontario is far more of a highway
for Canada than it is for New York, whilst Lake Erie
is less so for Canada than it is for Ohio, Michigan,
and the territories which lie beyond. It is British
trade that predominates on the one, whilst American
traffic has no rival on the other. It depends upon
circumstances, which will be presently alluded to,
whether this distinction will permanently prevail.
Much lies in our power in reference to it ; and the
policy of England may yet render lake Ontario as
much a highway for the great North-west as Lake
Erie has hitherto almost exclusively been.

Buffalo occupies the same position as regards Lake
Erie, and the great artificial artery of New York, as
Kingston does in regard to Lake Ontario and the line
of public works which extends from it to tide-water
in the St. Lawrence. Both are the points at which
the great natural channels of communication are
abandoned in descending to the coast, and the rival
artificial means of transport are resorted to, which the
energy and enterprise of the State and the Province
have conjured into existence. At Buffalo the lake
navigation terminates for such goods as are destined
for New York, whilst at Kingston it ends for such as
are on their way to the Ocean by Montreal and
Quebec. But before considering the respective claims

134 THE WESTERN WORLD.

of the rival routes, it may be as well here to take a
brief glance at what has been done in the United
States for the improvement of the country and the
furtherance of trade, by the construction of canals.
A better spot from which to contemplate the artificial
irrigation of the Union could not be chosen than
Buffalo, which is at the western extremity of the
great Erie Canal.

What has been said in a previous chapter on this
subject renders it unnecessary to dwell at any great
length upon it here. The canal system in America
resembles very closely in its distribution the Railway
system already considered. Its chief design is to
connect at the most favourable points, the great sec
tions of the continent separated from each other
by obstacles which they have been constructed to
obviate. The New England canals have less of a
general than a local importance ; whilst many of those
which lie to the west and south constitute the most
practicable media of communication between vast
sections of the Confederacy, which would otherwise,
for the purposes of heavy traffic at least, be virtually
isolated from each other. There is no great coast
system of canals, resembling the coast system of rail
ways; for the obvious reason, that the Atlantic,
which may not be the best highway for travellers,
furnishes a better means for the transport of goods
from one point to another of the coast region than
any line of canals would do. Most of the great
canals, which have a national importance, unite the
coast region either with the basin of the St. Law
rence, in the neighbourhood of the Great Lakes, or
with the valley of the Mississippi. The chief of
these are the Erie canal, the Pennsylvania canal, the

THE WESTERN WORLD. 135

Chesapeake and Ohio canal, and the James River and
Kanawha canal.

One of the oldest canals, and decidedly the first in
point of importance in the Union, is the Erie Canal,
which unites the sea-board at New York with the
region bordering the lakes at Buffalo. Its eastern
extremity is at Albany, where it joins the Hudson
160 miles above New York. Thence it proceeds
westward along the valley of the Mohawk, passing
through or by the towns of Schenectady, Canojoharie,
Little Falls, Utica, Rome, Syracuse, and Palmyra,
crossing the Genesee valley at Rochester, and then
proceeding westward by Lockport to Buffalo. Its
entire length is about 370 miles. It puts the city of
New York in connexion with the lakes, far above the
rapids of the St. Lawrence, and beyond the Falls of
Niagara ; in other words, it opens up to New York
the trade and traffic of the vast basin in which the
lakes lie. It also connects at two different points,
though by a circuitous route, the sea-board with the
Mississippi valley ; the Genesee valley canal uniting
it, as already seen, at Rochester with the Allegany
River in Pennsylvania, which is one of the parents of
the Ohio ; and the great Ohio canal connecting Lake
Erie, in which the Erie canal terminates, with the
Ohio River.

This majestic work was planned and executed by
De Witt Clinton, Governor of New York in 1817
and 1822. He met with every opposition in carry
ing out the work. Numbers consoled themselves
with the reflection that if they lived to see the
"Clinton ditch," as it was contemptuously termed,
finished, they would indeed attain a green old age.
Others laboured to convince their fellow-citizens that

136 THE WESTERN WORLD.

in a financial point of view the scheme would prove an
utter failure. But the great heart of Clinton was
not to be daunted, either by ridicule or by more
sober opposition, and he persevered with his plan,
staking his political reputation upon its success. The
whole of the western portion of the State was then a
wilderness, and he was advised to postpone the un
dertaking until that section of it had advanced some
what in the career of material improvement. But
he declined listening to such advice, determined that
his canal should be the great agent in improving the
West — the cause, not the consequence of its ad
vancement. The nature of the country favoured
his scheme. In two different places sections of the
canal could be constructed for seventy consecutive
miles without a lock. He commenced his operations
on the more easterly of these great levels, and after
finishing that link of his work, had detached links of
it constructed elsewhere along the intended line.
These were found to be so useful in their different
localities, that the whole community soon became
clamorous for the completion of the undertaking; and
thus before it was finished, the governor, who at the
commencement had stood almost alone, had the vast
majority of his fellow-citizens with him. At length
the great work was completed, and a salute, which
was fired from guns placed along its bank, at regular
intervals, the whole way from Buffalo to Albany,
announced that it was opened throughout the whole
line. The result justified the expectations of the
sagacious and adventurous Clinton. In the course
of a few years an almost miraculous change was
effected in the whole aspect of Western New York.
The forest suddenly disappeared, and towns and

THE WESTERN WORLD. 137

villages sprang up on sites which had long been the
haunts of the savage, the wolf, and the bear. About
twenty-four years ago, the forest completely shrouded
the region, which is now the granary of the State.
In addition to the benefit which it thus conferred
upon New York, it gave a stimulus to the settlement
of the vast tracts to the westward ; leading to the sub
jugation, by civilized man, of the wilds of Ohio and
Michigan.

In its original dimensions the canal was forty feet
wide and four feet deep. Such, however, has been
the increase of the traffic upon it, that, in order to
accommodate it, the canal has of late years been
quadrupled in size ; that is to say, it has been made
eighty feet wide and eight feet deep. This enlarge
ment, which involved a much greater outlay than
that required for the original construction of the
canal, is not yet completed throughout, but is steadily
progressing. The success of the Erie canal and the
revenues derived from it, enabled the State to em
bark upon other projects of a similar character, but
of minor extent ; and thus have arisen those numerous
lateral canals with which the tourist so frequently
meets in the State. The success of the New York
system, of which the Erie canal is the great feature,
is indicated by the surplus revenues now derived from
it. The aggregate cost of the canals was about thirty-
one millions of dollars, the average interest payable
upon which is five-and-a-half per cent. The net
revenue from all the State canals, after deducting the
cost of collection and of superintendence, is upwards
of two millions. This is nearly equal to seven per
cent, upon the whole cost, or one-and-a-half per cent,
beyond the average rate of interest payable upon it.

138 . THE WESTERN WORLD.

The new Constitution adopted by New York in 1846,
provides for the establishment of a sinking-fund, for
the extinction of the debt ; the object being to pay
both principal and interest in the course of about
twenty years. The annual revenues of the canals will
then be available for further improvements, or for
defraying the expenses of civil government in the
State. As these expenses do not exceed a million
and a quarter dollars per annum, and as the net
receipts from the canals will be at least three millions
per annum twenty years hence, it is obvious that, in
these magnificent works, the New Yorkers have not
only a means of ultimately ridding themselves of
taxation for the support of their government, but of
carrying on the work of internal improvement to an
almost indefinite extent.

The Pennsylvanians, in constructing their great
canal, which pursues a line almost parallel to that of
the Erie canal, had a double object in view — that of
facilitating their own internal, particularly their
mineral, trade, and of creating a rival to the New
York canal within the limits of Pennsylvania. It
interferes but little, however, with the traffic of the
Erie canal ; a result which has not a little contributed
to plunge Pennsylvania into those financial embar
rassments, out of which she now begins to see her
way. Her great western line of canal is of immense
service to her own internal trade, and being the most
northerly of the canals which unite the sea-board
directly with the Mississippi valley, will yet play an
important part in the conduct of the trade between
them. As is the case with its great rival, the
Pennsylvania canal is the chief trunk line of com
munication from one extremity of the State to the

THE WESTERN WORLD. 139

other, many lateral branches, or tributary canals,
leading into it. There are several other improvements
of this kind in Pennsylvania which have no direct
connexion with its great canal system.

The next great public work of the kind with which
we meet is the Chesapeake and Ohio canal, extend
ing along the borders of Maryland and Virginia,
but being chiefly, if not exclusively, within the limits
of the former. It commences at Alexandria, in the
State of Virginia, where it unites with the Potomac ;
and, after ascending the Virginia bank of the river
for about seven miles, crosses it by a stupendous
wooden aqueduct, on stone piers, at Georgetown,
after which it ascends the valley of the Potomac
on the Maryland side. The object of this canal is to
unite Chesapeake Bay with the valley of the Ohio;
in other words, to open a direct communication further
south than Pennsylvania, between the great valley
and the sea-board. The project, however, is not yet
completed, the canal having only obtained about
180 miles of its intended length. It will be some
time ere the remainder is constructed, but the neces
sities of the growing trade of the country on both
sides of the Alleganies forbid the notion of its con
tinuing very long in its present incomplete state.

This canal has much more of a national importance
attached to it than the next and most southerly of the
great lines of improvement, designed to facilitate the
access of the products of the great valley to the ocean.
The James River and Kanawha canal, which is also
unfinished, is designed to unite the river at Richmond
with one of the navigable tributaries of the Ohio.
This, when completed, will constitute another link of
connexion between the sea-board and the Mississippi

140 THE WESTERN WORLD.

valley. It would appear, however, that this canal is
destined to have more of a local than a great sectional
importance annexed to it. It will be of immense
advantage to the State of Virginia, in which it lies,
particularly to the central valley, and the portion of
the State west of the Alleganies, to which markets
were formerly very difficult of access. But the chief
trade between the sea-board and the northern section
of the Mississippi valley, will be carried on by means
of the more northerly lines of communication, passing
through Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New York.
There are numerous canals in the Southern States,
but none on the same magnificent scale as those just
alluded to. Their chief object is to unite the great
navigable streams which irrigate the eastern section of
the valley, some of which fall into the Gulf of Mexico,
and others into the Ohio, The very skeleton of the
canal system which will one day irrigate the valley on
both sides of the Mississippi, is not yet formed. The
natural irrigation of the region is on so magnificent a
scale, that it will be long ere its increasing population
occupy all the banks of its great streams. Until that
is done, and multitudes of industrious people are
settled back from the rivers, with the exception of a
few of obvious utility to large sections of the country,
canals will not multiply with great rapidity in the
valley. Those which descend into it through Ohio,
Indiana, and Illinois, are not of mere local importance,
their object being similar to that of the eastern and
western lines, passing through New York, Penn
sylvania, Maryland, and Virginia, to unite one great
section of the Union with another ; in other words,
to connect the valley with the region o" the lakes, and,
consequently, with the sea-board.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 141

Such is the scope taken by the canal system of the
United States as already developed. It has been
laid out upon a scale which will enable it to meet the
wants of double the present population of the country.
It will not be long, however, ere it undergoes consider
able expansion, that it may meet anticipated exigen
cies ; for many of the present generation will live to
see the population of America trebled, if not quad
rupled. The feature in this gigantic system most
interesting to us is decidedly that which it exhibits in
the State of New York ; not only from the contiguity
of that State to our own Provinces, but also from the
rivalry which exists between it and Canada for the
carrying-trade of the North-west. As this is a struggle
the issue of which will be materially affected by the
continuance or the abrogation of the navigation laws
as regards the St. Lawrence, I cannot here do better
than devote the remainder of this chapter to an
explanation of it.

In doing so, let me first describe what the carrying-
trade of the North-west is. The region known in
America as the North-west, comprehends not only
the whole of that portion of the United States terri
tory lying in the basin of the St. Lawrence, west of
the lower end of Lake Erie, but also a considerable
section of the northern side of the valley of the Ohio,
and the upper portion of that of the Mississippi. It
thus embraces an enormous area, comprising a small
part of Pennsylvania, the greater portion of Ohio, the
whole of Michigan, the greater parts of Indiana and
Illinois, the whole of Wisconsin, and nearly all
Iowa. In other words, it includes nearly the whole
of six of the States of the Union, lying south and
west of the lakes, as well as, for the purposes of this

142 THE WESTERN WORLD.

inquiry, all that portion of "Western Canada which
lies upon Lake Erie, and which constitutes the
eastern and northern shores of Lake Huron, and the
north coast of Lake Superior. The whole of this
immense expanse of country, with the exception of
the part of Canada lying to the north of the two last-
mentioned lakes, is fertile and arable, comprehending
indeed the finest grain-growing districts, not only in
Canada, but also in the United States. To this
may be added, as being involved in the question,
the greater portion of Western New York ; in other
words, the granary of that important State. The
population of this enormous region is at present
between five and six millions, being the most active
and enterprising of the inhabitants of the continent.
It is here, too, that the population of the country is
increasing at the most rapid ratio. Some notion may
be formed of the rate of its increase, when it is known
that, during the five years ending in 1845, Illinois
added about forty-five per cent, to the number of its
people, whilst the population of Michigan during the
same period was increased by nearly fifty per cent.
In 1850, the population of each of these States will
be double what it was in 1840 ; notwithstanding the
stream of emigration which has latterly set in for
California and the Pacific.

Partially peopled and partially cultivated as it yet
is, the trade of this great region has already attained
a gigantic expansion. It is almost exclusively agri
cultural, and it is to agriculture that it will mainly
look as the source of its future wealth. Its surplus
products will procure for it from other quarters the
necessaries and the luxuries of life. Its annual surplus
is already great, and is being constantly exchanged,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 143

either in New England or in foreign markets, for such
commodities as its increasing millions may be in want
of. The conveyance of its produce to the sea-board,
and the transport into the interior from the coast of
such articles as it receives for consumption in exchange
for them, constitutes what is called the carry ing- trade
of the North-west. It is to lead this trade through
its own territory that Canada is now competing with
New York to become the forwarder, at present of
five millions, and prospectively of fifty millions of
people.

It is not only in the vast extent of the region con
templated, in the fertility and varied capabilities of
its soil, and in the unquestioned enterprise of its
inhabitants, that consist the elements of a great trade.
Situated far in the interior, nature has been lavish
in the advantages she has conferred upon it. By
means of the great lakes, their tributaries and con
necting links, it can not only carry on an extensive
trade within itself, but also approach from the in
terior of the continent to within 300 miles of tide
water. The facilities thus thrown in its way for
trading, not only with itself, but with the foreign
world, has a manifest tendency still more rapidly to
develope its resources and extend the limits of its
wants. The lake trade of the United States, com
prising that carried on with Canada, is second only
in importance to that of the sea-board itself. Had it
been necessary to provide it throughout its length
and breadth, with artificial channels of communication
with the coast, it would have been long ere the means
could have been secured to meet so enormous an
outlay. But its great inland seas not only enable it
to transport its produce at comparatively little cost,

144 THE WESTEKN WORLD.

to a point not far from the ocean, but also afford it
all the facilities for traffic which an extensive coast
implies. With the single exception of Iowa, there
is not one of the States named but has a lake coast, of
more or less extent, each having its own harbours and
lake trade. The aggregate lake coast which the North
west possesses, taking into account only that of the
five principal lakes, constituting the great freshwater
chain of the continent, extends for upwards of 4,000
miles. This is more than the whole circumference
of Great Britain and that of Ireland in addition.
The lake coast of Canada alone, from the western
extremity of Lake Superior to the eastern limit of
Lake Ontario, extends in one continuous line for
nearly 2,000 miles. The great inland highway which
nature has bountifully provided for it is thus accessible
to almost every portion of this highly favoured region,
stimulating its occupants to additional activity from
the facilities which it affords them for disposing of
their produce. The simple question between Canada
and New York is, which can best supply the link
wanted to connect the North-west with the ocean.

A glance at the map will suffice to show that, for
a considerable time to come, the lakes, as far down as
the foot of Lake Erie, will form the common high
way for all parties inhabiting their shores. When
population greatly increases along the Canada coast
of Lake Huron, the northern portion of Michigan,
the shores of Lake Superior, and for some distance
down both banks of Lake Michigan, it is not impro
bable that the exigencies of the transport trade of
these regions will then lead to the opening of a canal
communication between the Georgian Bay on Lake
Huron, through Lake Simcoe to Lake Ontario, in

THE WESTERN WORLD. 145

the neighbourhood of Toronto. The whole distance
from Penetanguishine on Georgian Bay, to Toronto
on Lake Ontario, is not over ninety miles, Lake
Simcoe, which is thirty-five miles long, lying in the
direct line between them. This would limit the cut
ting to about fifty-five miles, nearly forty miles of
land intervening between Toronto and the southern
end of Lake Simcoe, and but little more than fifteen
dividing its northern extremity from the great arm
of Lake Huron alluded to. Lake Ontario will then
he accessible to a large portion of the North-west,
without resorting to the circuitous navigation of the
southern section of Lake Huron, the River and Lake
St. Clair, and Lake Erie. But for the present we
may regard the lakes to the foot of Lake Erie as the
common and most practicable highway for the whole
region, the foot of Lake Erie being, therefore, the
point upon which, for a long time to come, its accu
mulated products will be poured. This will always be
the case as regards the products of the great bulk of
Michigan, the northern section of Ohio, a portion of
Pennsylvania and Western New York, and a large
part of the best portion of Upper Canada. It is here
then — at the foot of Lake Erie — that the rival routes
to the ocean commence.

I have already described the means provided by
the State of New York for continuing, through its
own territory, the transport-trade of the lakes. The
produce transported from the interior to Buffalo, may
thence be conveyed by the Erie canal to Albany on
the Hudson, by which it can descend to New York.
But before considering the respective merits of the
rival routes, it may be as well, that through New

VOL. m. H

146 THE WESTERN WORLD.

York having been described, to give an account of
the route through Canada.

Whilst it is the object of the New Yorker to make
his chief river, the Hudson, available for his purpose,
that of the Canadian is to do the same by the St.
Lawrence. Had the navigation of this noble stream
been continuous from the Lakes to the ocean, the
struggle, if it would ever have arisen, would not have
been of long duration. But it meets with frequent
and formidable interruptions, to the removal of which
the government and people of the province have
applied themselves with vigour, perseverance, and
complete success.

The first interruption to the navigation of the St.
Lawrence downwards occurs a little below Lake Erie,
developing itself in the formidable character of the
Falls of Niagara. To obviate this difficulty, the
Welland canal has been constructed through the rich
agricultural district intervening between Lake Erie
and Lake Ontario. The canal starts from a point on
the Canada shore of Lake Erie, a considerable dis
tance above Buffalo, and enters Lake Ontario at St.
Catherine's, a little west of the mouth of the Niagara
River. From the latter point, nearly the whole length
of Lake Ontario lies in the direct route to the ocean.
At the foot of the lake is the town of Kingston,
from which the St. Lawrence is navigable through
the " Thousand Islands " to Brockville, and thence
to (i Dickenson's Landing," about 120 miles below
Kingston. There are several rapids between the
last-mentioned place and Prescott about thirty miles
above it, but they are not of a character sufficiently
formidable to constitute any serious impediment to

THE WESTERN WORLD. 147

the navigation of the river. At Dickenson's Landing
is the first and most stupendous of the series of
rapids which intervene between it and Montreal.
This great obstruction, which is upwards of twelve
miles in length, is avoided by means of the St. Law
rence canal, extending along the north bank of the
river, from Dickenson's Landing to Cornwall at the
head of Lake St. Francis. The next interruption
arises from the rapids which occur between Lake
St. Francis and Lake St. Louis. To avoid it, the
Beauharnois canal has been constructed on the
southern bank of the river, forming a practicable
link of communication between the two lakes. At
the foot of Lake St. Louis the last great obstruction
is encountered in the shape of the formidable rapids
of Lachine, which are avoided by means of the
Lachine canal, uniting the lake with the St. Lawrence
at Montreal, immediately below the rapids. Another
impediment, but of a less formidable character, is
met with somewhat lower down in Lake St. Peter,
the volume of which is very shallow and the channel
frequently shifting. To obviate the latter difficulty,
works have been constructed in connexion with some
of the numerous islands at its upper end, the object
of which is to straighten the channel and to render
its position permanent. At Three Rivers, a few
miles below Lake St. Peter, but upwards of 450 from
the mouth of the river, tide-water is reached, beyond
which the channel of the St. Lawrence is practicable
to the Gulf. The portion of the river interrupted
by rapids, and extending from Dickenson's Landing
to Montreal, is, including the two lakes St. Francis
and St. Louis, a little upwards of one hundred miles
in length, but exclusive of the lakes only about thirty,

148 THE WESTERN WORLD.

which is also about the aggregate length of the canals
by which they are avoided. There is still another
route from Kingston to Montreal by way of the Rideau
canal, which extends from the foot of Lake Ontario
to Bytown on the Ottawa, this river uniting with
the St. Lawrence at the head of Lake St. Louis. But
this route is both more tedious and expensive than
the descent by the St. Lawrence, and is more adapted
for military and local purposes than for constituting
an eligible link in the chain of communication between
the North-west and the sea-board.

Such, then, being the rival routes through New
York and Canada, let us now consider the advantages
which they respectively offer, in the transport of
produce to the sea-board, and of imports to the inte
rior. The question between them turns upon the
saving of time and expense. The route which can
accomplish its object at the least sacrifice of both, will
carry all before it ; whereas if one has the advantage
only in point of time, and the other only in point of
expense, the issue may remain doubtful for some
time yet to come, unless the advantage possessed by
the one be so great as to neutralize that enjoyed by
the other. There can be no better mode of showing
how the case stands between them than by following
a cargo of produce from the interior to the sea-board,
first by the one route and then by the other, noting,
in either case, the time consumed and the expense
incurred on the way. Let us in the first place take
the route of the Erie canal.

We have already seen that, as regards the rival
routes, the lake navigation terminates at the foot of
Lake Erie. The produce conveyed to Buffalo from
either shore of that lake, or from the regions border-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 149

ing the lakes above it, is carried thither either in sloops,
schooners, or steamers. The last mentioned are gene
rally employed in the transport of passengers and the
lighter kinds of goods, the great bulk of the produce
which descends the lakes being conveyed by means of
sailing vessels. On reaching buffalo the cargo must
be transshipped, the navigation of the Erie canal being
confined to boats built for the purpose. This, sup
posing the schooner to be of 300 tons burden, will
occupy at least two days. The cargo, being distri
buted into different boats, then proceeds on its tedious
canal journey of nearly 400 miles in length. Three
miles per hour is the maximum rate of speed autho
rized by law for freight boats, a greater speed being
unattainable without injury to the canal banks. Making
proper allowance for stoppages at locks, and for other
detentions by the way, the average speed along the
entire length of the canal will not exceed two miles
per hour. Taking the canal as 375 miles long, and
supposing the boats to continue moving at this rate
day and nip,ht without intermission, they would
occupy seven days and nineteen hours in reaching
Albany, say eight days, which, with the two consumed
at Buffalo, make ten days as the shortest time in which
a cargo can reach the Hudson after arriving at the
foot of Lake Erie. As the canal boats do not navi
gate the Hudson, another transshipment takes place
at Albany, into barges constructed to descend the
river, This will occupy at least another day, whilst
the greater part of two clays more will elapse ere it
reaches New York. Here, then, we have thirteen
days consumed at the least, in the transport of a
cargo from Buffalo by the Erie canal and the Hudson
to New York. So much for time — now for expense.
The first item of expense incurred is for transship-

150 THE WESTERN WORLD.

raent at Buffalo. This upon a barrel of flour or a
bushel of wheat may be but trifling, but it is of trifles
that the largest aggregates are made up. Then comes
the cost of transport along the canal, which is mate
rially enhanced by the heavy canal dues which have
to be paid. The ordinary rate at which a barrel of
flour and a bushel of wheat can be conveyed from
Buffalo to Albany is 2s. 7d. sterling, and 9d. sterling
respectively. There is then the cost of transshipment at
Albany, and the freight to New York, which is rather
heavy, inasmuch as the barges which descend the
river have to be towed by steam. The entire cost
from Buffalo to New York, including all charges, may
be taken at %s.9d. sterling for a barrel of flour, and IQd.
sterling for a bushel of wheat. Such is the sacrifice
both as to time and money, at which a cargo, descend
ing by this route to the sea-board, is brought to the
point from which it starts on its ocean voyage. Let
us see how the case stands with regard to the St.
Lawrence.

We are once more at the foot of Lake Erie, on
board a schooner propelled by a screw, laden with
produce from the upper country. But we now take
the route to the left, instead of that to the right as
before, and at once enter the Welland canal.

This is the proper place to mention the essential
difference which exists between the internal improve
ments of Canada and New York. The Erie canal is
unsurpassed in length, but even on its enlarged scale
it is small, both in width and depth, as compared with
the Canadian canals. These, as already shown, are
exceedingly short, occurring at intervals; and as their
design is to render continuous the navigation of a vast
river, they are on a scale, as to their other proportions,
commensurate with their object. They are, in fact,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 151

ship canals. This has an important bearing upon
the question at issue between the parties. It renders
unnecessary, in pursuing the Canada route, the delay
and expense of a double transshipment, such as I have
shown must necessarily take place at Buffalo and
Albany. The consequence is that the vessel which
descends to the foot of Lake Erie with produce, can
pursue her journey by the Canada line, either to
Montreal or Quebec, without once breaking bulk.
Much of the traffic by this line is already carried on
by screw propellers, some of which are upwards of
300 tons burden ; and there is little doubt that ere
long they will entirely supersede sailing craft, in the
direct transit trade by the Canadian waters between
the interior and tide-water.

Having emerged into Lake Ontario from the
Welland canal, the propeller proceeds down the Lake
to Kingston, whence she descends the St. Lawrence
to Dickenson's Landing, at which point she takes the
St. Lawrence canal to Cornwall, from which she
descends Lake St. Francis to the Beauharnois canal,
through which she passes into Lake St. Louis, at the
foot of which she proceeds by the Lachine canal
to Montreal, from which she can descend without
impediment to Quebec. The whole distance from
the foot of Lake Erie to Quebec is not over 650
miles, which a good propeller can accomplish, if well
managed, in four days. It thus takes but four days
to bring a cargo from the foot of Lake Erie, by the
Canada route, to the point from which it starts
upon its ocean voyage. In point of time, therefore,
the Canada route has the advantage by no less than
nine days over its rival.

The cost at which a cargo is forwarded at present

152 THE WESTERN WORLD.

by this route, is no criterion by which to judge of what
it will be when all the capabilities of the line are fairly
developed. It now costs 2s. 4d. sterling to forward a
barrel of flour, and 9d. a bushel of wheat, from Lake
Erie to Quebec. But at present, for want of a suf
ficient number of propellers, much of the produce that
descends Lake Ontario is conveyed to Kingston by
steamer, where it is transshipped, to be forwarded to
Montreal. This, of course, increases the expense —
an increase which will be avoided when the propeller
becomes the chief medium of transport on the line.
Besides, from its very nature, the carrying-trade by
the Canada route is at present, or has been until
very lately, in the hands of a few wealthy capitalists.
It is now being diffused over a larger number of com
petitors, which will occasion a still further decrease
of cost. When all the appliances of the route are
fairly brought, to bear, it is not too much to expect
that a barrel of flour can be conveyed from Lake
Erie to Quebec for Is. 6d. and a bushel of wheat for Id.
In point of cost, therefore, the advantage is, or will
be, with the Canada route to the extent of Is. 3d. per
barrel, and 3d. per bushel. Thus, both as regards time
and expense, it is superior, between the lakes and
tide-water, to the rival route.

But the object of bringing the produce of the in
terior to tide-water, in either case, is not to leave it
there, but to forward it still further on. In carrying
out the comparison between the two lines of transport,
let us suppose that Liverpool is the destination of the
cargo. It is obvious that the decision of the question
between them depends upon the advantages offered,
in either case, by the whole route, and not merely by
a portion of it. The facilities which one part of a

THE WESTERN WORLD. 153

line may present, may be more than counterbalanced
by the impediments which clog it in another, just as
the difficulties in the way of one part may be com
pletely neutralized by the facilities of another. The
two cargoes, the course of which we have followed,
are now, the one at New York, and the other at
Quebec. We have seen that, in the race to these
two points, the Canadian has, in every respect, out
distanced his competitor. But the produce on his
hands at Quebec has still to descend the St. Lawrence,
for about 350 miles to the Gulf, which again it has to
cross ere it enters upon the open sea, from between
Newfoundland and Cape Breton. The cargo shipped
at New York, on the other hand, is launched at once
upon the open sea on its way to its destination.
There can be no doubt that, as regards this, the latter
portion of the two routes, the natural advantages are
with the New Yorker. But the question is, Do these
advantages so greatly preponderate in his favour
between port and port, as to counterbalance the dis
advantages under \\hich, as compared with his rival,
he labours throughout the overland portion of the
route ?

In considering this branch of the subject, we find
that it is the misfortune of the Canadian to have to
combat, on proceeding from port to port, not only
with difficulties of a natural kind, but with others of
artificial creation. He has not only the lower por
tion of his river and the Gulf beyond it to traverse
ere he gains the open sea, but his movements are
clogged with imperial restrictions, which fetter him
in the form of navigation laws. Just at the point
at which his triumph over his greatest obstacles is
complete, and when he is called upon to contend with

154 THE WESTERN WOULD.

some remaining difficulties of an ineradicable cha
racter, he finds his further progress impeded, not by
natural obstructions, but by acts of parliament. It
thus appears, that it is where the advantages of the
Canada route end, that those of the American begin ;
or, to view the case from the other side, that the dis
advantages of the Canadian route commence pre
cisely where those of the American terminate — at
tide-water. In the race hitherto we have seen the
Canadian by far the more agile of the two — an ad
vantage of but little avail to him so long as, for the
rest of the course, his feet are heavily fettered. Let
us examine into the difficulties which beset him from
tide-water, with a view to ascertain how far they are
natural and insurmountable, and how far artificial,
and therefore removable.

Though starting from different points, vessels from
both ports, by the time they have accomplished about
one- third of their respective voyages, fall into almost
the same line in prosecuting the remaining two-thirds.
The point at which they thus fall into a common
course is in the neighbourhood of Cape Race, the
south-eastern angle of Newfoundland. At this com
mon point of departure, the competition between the
two routes, in point of advantage, terminates the
natural difficulties with which the Canadian has to
struggle, lying between Quebec and Cape Race.
The great advantage which the American possesses
is that, in making this point, he can avail himself
of the open sea the whole way ; whereas for five-
sixths of the way to it, from Quebec, the Canadian
is confined to his river and the Gulf. Although the
line is a little circuitous, the distance from Quebec
to Cape Race is considerably shorter than that from

THE WESTERN WORLD. 155

New York to Cape Race. But this advantage is
neutralized by the delays which frequently occur in
the navigation of the river. Unless the wind is favour
able, a vessel ascending or descending the St. Law
rence has to drop anchor with every adverse turn of
the tide. But, with a fair wind, there is no reason —
there being good sea-room the whole way, for the
channel of the St. Lawrence from Quebec to the
Gulf is, on an average, from fifteen to twenty miles
wide — why a vessel from that port should not make
Cape Race in five days. It is only under the same
propitious circumstances that a ship from New York
can gain the same point; the chief difference between
the two routes consisting in this, that, circumstances
more frequently favouring it, a ship proceeding by
the latter does generally make Cape Race in less
time than one descending the St. Lawrence. But,
in point of time, we have already seen that the
Canadian has a gain at tide-water of fully nine days
over his competitor. If, therefore, he took fourteen
days to gain Cape Race, whilst the American only
took five, it would but put the two parties on an
equality with each other so far as time was concerned.
But, in general, a ship descending the St. Lawrence
does not take fourteen days to gain this point. It
will be making ample allowance for the difficulties of
the route, if we assign a vessel ten days as the average
time required to reach it. This is double the time
in which, under favouring circumstances, it can be
reached from New York. This still leaves a balance
of four days in favour of the Canadian route from
Lake Erie to Liverpool.

Another natural obstacle in the way of the Cana
dian is that, for six months in the year, the St. Law-

156 THE WESTERN WORLD.

rence is impracticable, on account of the ice with
which its channel is blocked up. But the same may
be said of the Erie canal, not that its channel is
blocked up with ice, but that for nearly five months
in the year it is without water. It is not prudent to
remain so long in the St. Lawrence, but a vessel may
safely leave it as late as the 7th or 10th of Novem
ber. About the beginning of May it is once more
practicable, and vessels from Europe frequently arrive
at Quebec during the first week of that month. To
preserve the banks from the injury which would be
effected by ice, the Erie canal is drained in the month
of November, and is not filled again with water
until April. There is thus not more than a month's
difference between the time for which the St. Law
rence and that for which the canal is impracticable.
In both cases, the chief transport business of the year
must be condensed within the time for which the
routes are capable of being used.

But the chief obstacle in the way of the Canadian,
after reaching tide-water, is that which is of artificial
creation. We have seen that, as regards time in
transporting produce from Lake Erie to Liverpool,
if the balance of advantages is not actually with him,
it need not be against him. The same cannot be said
with regard to cost, for in this respect, under existing
circumstances, the American has on the whole route
the decided advantage. The ground gained, in point
of cheapness, by the Canadian between Lake Erie and
Quebec, is more than lost by him between Quebec
and Liverpool. Various reasons contribute to this, one
of which is, that the navigation of the Gulf being
at some seasons rather precarious, the rates of in
surance on sea-going vessels and cargoes proceeding

THE WESTERN WOULD . 157

by the St. Lawrence are considerably higher than on
those crossing the Atlantic from New York. But
the chief reason is to be found in the high rate of
freight charged between Quebec and Liverpool by
those who monopolize the navigation of the river.
The whole trade of the St. Lawrence is confined, by
the navigation laws, to the British ship-owner, from
which accrues the double disadvantage of exorbitantly
high freights, and delay in the transport of produce to
its destination. It frequently happens that the quays
both of Montreal and Quebec are overladen with
produce waiting for exportation, but which remains
sometimes for weeks on the open wharves for want
of sufficient tonnage to convey it to Europe. It not
only thus incurs the risk of damage, but has to pay
for its transport almost any price that the ship-owner
chooses to impose. So great is the disparity in this
respect between Montreal and New York, that I
have known 7s. 6d. sterling asked at the former for
every barrel of flour to be conveyed to Liverpool,
whilst forty cents, or about Is. 8d., was the ruling
price at the latter. It is of this monopoly and its
ruinous consequences that the Canadian so loudly
and so bitterly complains. Such indeed is sometimes
the want of tonnage in the Canadian seaports, that
produce forwarded to tide-water, with a view of being
conveyed to Liverpool that season, is not unfrequently
detained until the open ng of navigation in the fol
lowing year. The inconvenience of this is great,
especially as wheat and flour are perishable commo
dities, and the exporter loses all the advantages which
the English market may in the mean time have offered
him.

The remedy for this evil is obviously to throw the

158 THE WESTERN WORLD.

navigation of the St. Lawrence open to the shipping
of the world. This will at once break up the mono
poly which is now so serious a drawback to the
trade and agricultural prosperity of the province, at
the same time that it will give it every chance of
securing to itself that great and growing carrying-
trade, to secure which was the chief object of the
construction of those expensive works which line the
St. Lawrence from Kingston to Montreal. It was
not for the carrying-trade of Canada alone that they
were constructed. If they fail to secure their object
the result will be disastrous to the province in a
double point of view ; for it will not only lose a great
and flourishing trade, which, if fairly dealt with, it
has every chance of securing ; but it will also be bur
dened with costly and unproductive works, "which,
instead of being a source of revenue, will turn out to
be an annual drain upon the coffers of the province.
What say the high protectionists to this prospect ?
Will these self-vaunting champions of colonial pro
sperity and greatness maintain a system so ruinous to
our finest dependency as this, and all merely to sup
port a stale and tottering theory, and to countenance
for a little time longer some antiquated notions as
to the only source of England's maritime strength ?
Even were the repeal of the navigation laws, in their
connexion with the St. Lawrence, a question which
was likely to be left entirely to our decision, our true
policy, both as regards the mother country and the
colony, would be to abrogate them. But the ques
tion is not one in reference to which we shall be left
to consult our own exclusive views and wishes. The
province is bent upon being relieved, and at all hazards,
from a restriction which acts so injuriously, not only

THE WESTERN WOELD. 159

upon its present fortunes, but also upon its future
prospects. And some of those who in Canada are
most clamorous for the repeal of the navigation laws,
are those whose political sympathies are otherwise
most in unison with the views of the protectionists
at home. It is not only Liberalism, in Canada — to
which the vilest purposes have so frequently but so
unjustly been imputed, — which seeks to relieve the
St. Lawrence of the restrictions of the navigation
laws ; for it is loudly joined in the cry by the humble
imitation of imperial Toryism which rears its ridi
culous head in the wilds of the province. And when
the Canadian asks to be thus relieved, what answer
can we now make to him ? We formerly conferred
privileges upon him in our markets, which may have
compensated, to some extent, for the disadvantages
at which in other respects, for the sake of parti
cular interest, we placed him. But these advantages
he no longer enjoys. We have deprived him of the
price paid him for bearing the burden, and is it fair
that he should any longer be called upon to bear it?
He will not consent to bear it much longer, even if
we refuse to relieve him of it. And who can blame
him for the anxiety which he manifests in reference
to the matter, or even the menaces which he is some
times heard to mutter in connexion with it? The
stake for which he is playing is one of immense mag
nitude. The trade of the Lakes, for which he wishes
to be the great carrier to the ocean, has already at
tained the value of £39,000,000 sterling: what it
will it be in half a century it is impossible to foretell.
He has laid himself out at no little cost for the transit
trade, and will lose his game if the St. Lawrence below
tide-water remains much longer clogged as it is at

160 THE WESTERN WORLD.

present. By losing it, the expensive works which he
has constructed to secure it will be thrown compara
tively unproductive upon his hands, when, instead ot
relieving him in whole or in part of the burden of
taxation, as he had every reason to believe they would
do in course of time, they will prove themselves the
cause of additional calls upon his pocket. Will he,
or should he, submit to this? Not only justice, but
sound policy also forbids that we should call upon
him to do so ; and it is to be hoped, for the sake of
all parties, — for even the shipping interest, if they
bestir themselves properly, have but little to fear
from it, — that the session of 1849 will not pass over
before the St. Lawrence is thrown open to the ship
ping of the world.*

* The Navigation Laws have since been repealed, and the portion
of the foregoing chapter referring to them, as regards the trade of
the St. Lawrence, is still left in the work in the hope that the in
formation contained in it respecting the two rival routes may be
found both valuable and interesting. That Canada will immensely
benefit by the change will be found by the experience of this, the
first year of free navigation on her tidal waters.

CHAPTER VI.

FROM BUFFALO TO UTTCA, AND THENCE TO MONTREAL
BY THE ST. LAWRENCE.

Rapid Journey up the Lakes, and down through Canada West. —
Return to Rochester. — Depart by Railway towards the Sea-board.
— Sunsets in Western New York. — An unexpected Reproof. —
A novel view of Swearing. — Canandaigua. — Beauty and Cleanli
ness of the Towns and Villages in Western N/ew York. — Ride by
the common Highway to Geneva, on Lake Seneca. — Beauty of the
position of Geneva.— A sail on the Lake.— Ride to Lake Cayuga.
Stupendous Bridges by which it is spanned. — Arrival at Auburn.
The State Prison. — Proceed to Syracuse, Rome, and Utica. — Ame
rican Civic Nomenclature. — The City of Utica. — James Fennimore
Cooper. — The Falls of Trenton. — Journey from Trenton to the
St. Lawrence.— Cross to Kingston. — Voyage down the St. Law
rence. — Shooting of the Rapids. — Arrival at Montreal.

FROM Buffalo I proceeded by steamer, which touched
at some of the lake ports of Ohio on the way, to the
head of Lake Erie, and up the Detroit River, to the
city of Detroit in the State of Michigan. This river
is the connecting link between Lake St. Clair and
Lake Erie — the former being a small body of water
in that neighbourhood, intervening between the latter
and the vast volume of Lake Huron, which again is
connected with Lake St. Clair by the St. Clair River,
both this river and the Detroit being in fact links of
the St. Lawrence. The city of Detroit is situated
upon the west bank of the river of that name, a little

162 THE WESTERN WORLD.

below where it emerges from Lake St. Clair. The
Detroit, together with the River and Lake St. Clair,
here form the boundary between the State of Michi
gan and Canada West. From Detroit I proceeded
through Canada to the town of London, situated in
the midst of a rich agricultural district, the portion
of the province lying between Lakes Huron, Erie,
and Ontario, with an area about as large as that of
England, being as fertile and in every way as desir
able a home to the settler as any State in the Union.
From London I proceeded by an excellent road, which
was planked like a floor for a great part of the way,
to Hamilton, at the head of Lake Ontario, whence a
sail of fifty miles by steamer conveyed me to Toronto,
the capital of the once separate province of Upper
Canada. This is a large bustling town, situated on
the side of a spacious bay on the northern shore of the
lake, and having an extensive commercial intercourse
not only with the country behind it, but with all the
ports both upon the lake and the St. Lawrence below.
It has increased in population as rapidly as any of the
American towns to which I have alluded as illus
trating the speed with which communities spring up in
the New World. Its plan is regular, the main streets
running parallel with the shore, and being intersected
at right angles by others, which run back from the
bay. It is in every respect a pretty town, and its
chief thoroughfare, King Street, would be an orna
ment to any city in the United Kingdom. It is
still a species of capital, being the seat of the Court
of Chancery and the courts of law for Canada West.
Here also is the University, an institution mag
nificently endowed, but which has hitherto been
diverted from its original purpose. It was designed

THE WESTERN WORLD. 163

as a provincial institution, but was converted into a
sectarian one, the Episcopal church, by a variety of
adroit manoeuvrings, getting it for a time completely
into its hands. The liberal party in the province are
determined to unsectarianize it ; and the liberal minis
try now in power at Montreal are devising a measure
to be laid before parliament at its approaching
session, to place the institution upon a secular basis,
when every branch of human learning will be taught
in it except theology. This measure, when intro
duced, will give rise to considerable excitement, for it
is intimately connected with the whole question of
the position of the Church in Canada.

But to enter into the particulars of such questions,
or to describe minutely what I saw in this part of my
excursion, would be alien to the purpose of the pre
sent work. I shall therefore hurry back again to the
United States. There is a daily communication
between Toronto and Rochester, and in fourteen
hours xafter leaving the former place I found myself
once more on the romantic waters of the Genesee.

After another brief sojourn in Rochester, I pro
ceeded towards the sea-board. As already noticed,
there is a continuous railway from Buffalo to Boston.
From Rochester it leads to the village of Canan-
daigua, which is thirty miles distant. It was towards
sunset when I left, and in about an hour and a half
performed the first stage of my journey. It was
the month of August. The weather was beautiful,
and the evening air balmly and delicious. I remained
on one of the platforms of the railway carriage the
whole way, enjoying the lovely prospect, through
which I was so rapidly driven. I never witnessed a
more gorgeous sunset than that with which the

164 THE WESTERN WORLD.

heavens soon glowed behind us. Piles of massive
clouds were lounging as it were on the western horizon,
their light fleecy fringes glistening as if they had been
dipped in silver and gold. Towards the zenith, the
sky was of a deep azure ; about midway to the hori
zon it assumed a greenish hue, which became paler
and paler as it merged into the brilliant yellow
which lay beneath it, which again gave place to the
broad best of flaming vermilion which swept along
the horizon, and in which the intervening tree-tops
seemed to be bathed. The dazzling picture presented
almost every variety of colour and shade, whilst long
pencils of white light shot up like bars of sunlight
from the horizon to the zenith, spreading like a thin
gauze over the brilliant colours underneath, and sub
duing in some places their intensity. This was the
reflected light of the setting sun from the vast body
of Lake Erie, which lay directly to the west, and on
which the sun was still shining, although it had been
for some time below our horizon. These broad bars
of light were constantly shifting as clouds drifted in
the west over the disc of the invisible sun, the portion
of the lake reflecting his lustre at one moment being
obscured in shade perhaps the next. It thus appeared
as if the scenes were being constantly shifted, which
gave to the gorgeous celestial picture a faint ter
restrial similitude. There are few places in the world
where finer sunsets are seen than in Western New
York. In addition to the other causes existing to
conjure up the glorious effects, in the midst of which
the sun there so frequently descends, are the lakes to
the west, lying like huge mirrors, reflecting his lustre
to the zenith for some time after he has dipped below
the horizon.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 165

I was one of a group of four occupying a portion of
the platform, my companions being two Canadians,
one quite young, and the other elderly and ap
parently a retired officer en half-pay, and a Bostonian
ahout thirty years of age, of a more jovial disposition
than the great majority of his countrymen. In the
course of our conversation, the more elderly of the
two Canadians occasionally seasoned his discourse
with some of those camp phrases, which do not
exactly suit the atmosphere of the drawing-room. On
the other side of the platform stood a young man,
seemingly under four-and-twenty, with a red pug-
nose, grey eye, and altogether a very cod-fish ex
pression, and whose head seemed immovably fixed
upon a piece of white cambric, which enclosed a
" stiffener " of no ordinary depth. He was evidently a
sucking preacher, but to which of the ranting deno
minations he pertained I could not determine. He
did not form one of our group, but listened as atten
tively to our conversation as if he did. He at length
approached us; and addressing himself to our elderly
friend, observed that it was quite shocking to hear a
man of his years swear so much. The bloocl mounted
to the old man's cheek at this exhibition of imper
tinence on the part of a perfect stranger and a com
parative stripling. For a moment 1 thought he
would have hurled him down the steep embankment
which we were then passing ; but divining the avoca
tion of his reprover from his greasy white neckcloth,
the conventional got the better of the natural man,
and instead of striking, he apologised to him, stating
that he was sorry that anything offensive should have
reached his ears, unwittingly uttered in a conversation
not addressed to him. The divine was satisfied, and

166 THE WESTERN WORLD.

resumed his former place ; but I observed that the
Bostonian was almost bursting with suppressed rage.
He did not explode until we reached Canandaigua.
I was seated in the public room of the hotel, when an
altercation suddenly arose in the contiguous lobby. I
soon recognised the voice of the Bostonian, who had
just caught the parson, and was angrily lecturing him
upon his impertinent officiousness.

"What business had you to interfere ?" he de
manded, — " his conversation was not addressed to
you?"

" It is my business to reprove in season and out
of season," replied the half-frightened preacher.

" Then by you did it out of season that time,

I can tell you," said the Bostonian, getting more and
more irritated. " He was old enough to be your
grandfather," he continued ; " besides, you know very
well that, if he did swear a little, he didn't mean it."

" That made the matter all the worse," said the
preacher.

"All the worse ! " repeated the Bostonian, with a

choleric laugh ; " when I say ' D n it,' I do mean

it ; and, according to your doctrine, that is not so bad
as to say it without attaching any significance to it."

A loud laugh from the bystanders, who had by this
time gathered round, followed this retort, and the
discomfited preacher, without uttering another word,
entered the public room. The Bostonian followed
him to give him a parting admonition, to the effect
that he should take care, the next time he reproved,
that it was in season he did so ; by pursuing which
course he would do all the less to render himself and
his country ridiculous in the eyes of the stranger.

Early next morning I took a stroll through the

THE WESTERN WORLD. 167

village. The small towns, which so profusely dot the
surface of Western New York, are in every respect
the most charming of their kind in the Union. The
country, which is of an undulatory character, abounds
with exquisite sites, particularly that portion of it
which lies between the Genesee and the upper waters
of the Mohawk. The scenery is beautifully diversified
by a series of lakes of different sizes, from twelve to
thirty and forty miles in length, which follow each
other in rapid succession. The land around them is
generally well cleared, and the little towns which
garnish their banks bespeak a degree of general com
fort which is only to be met with in the New World.
As you tread their broad and breezy streets, and
every now and then catch a glimpse of the elegant
white houses with which they are lined, through the
waving* and rustling foliage in which they are enve
loped, you are apt to forget that such a thing as
poverty exists, and to give way for the moment to
the pleasing illusion that competence is the lot of all.
One of the most pleasing features about these towns
is their faultless cleanliness. In this respect the
Americans are in advance of every other people with
whom it has ever been my lot to mingle. An
American house, both outside and in, is, generally
speaking, a pattern of cleanliness. The American
likes to make a good external show, and bestows
great care, when circumstances will admit of it, upon
the outside of his dwelling. The neat little garden
which fronts it is not, as with us, walled from the
sight of the public. It is generally bounded towards
the street by a low wall, which is surmounted by
a light iron or wooden railing, so that the public
enjoys the sight of what is within as much as the

168 THE WESTERN WORLD.

owner himself. This is what renders not only the
rural towns of America, but also the suburbs of its
larger cities, so elegant and attractive ; each resident,
in consulting his own taste in the decoration of his
dwelling, also promoting the enjoyment of the public.
How different is the case in our suburbs and country
towns ! An Englishman likes to have his enjoyments
exclusively to himself; and hence it is that the grounds
fronting your " Ivy Cottages," " Grove Villas," and
<f Chestnut Lodges," are concealed from the passer-by,
by lofty, cold, and repulsive walls. There cannot, in
this respect, be a greater contrast than that presented
by the private streets of an American town, large or
small, and those of our own villages and the suburban
districts which skirt our great communities. Nor let
it be supposed that to this external neatness, in the en
joyment of which the public thus participates equally
with the owner, is sacrificed any of the care which
should be bestowed upon the management of the
residence within. An American is about as domestic
in his habits as the Englishman is. His house is,
therefore, the private sanctuary of himself and family,
and as much attention is generally bestowed upon it,
with a view to rendering it comfortable and attractive,
as in decorating it externally for the common enjoy
ment of himself and his fellow-citizens. Jn point of
domestic neatness and cleanliness, the Englishman
certainly comes after the A.merican. Would that I
could find a high place in the classification for the
lower orders of my Scottish fellow-countrymen !

Canandaigua is, in itself, perhaps the most attrac
tive of all the towns of Western New York. There
are others with more beautiful sites, but none pre
senting so fine a succession of almost palatial resi-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 169

clences. It is situated on the long gentle slope which
descends to the northern extremity of Lake Canan-
daigua, the most westerly and one of the smallest of
the lakes alluded to. The main road between Buffalo
and Albany, which passes through it, constitutes its
principal street, from every point of which the lake at
the foot of it is visible. The street, which is about a
mile long, is exceedingly wide, and shaded on either
side by an unbroken succession of lofty and magnifi
cent trees. The houses on both sides, which are
almost all detached from each other, are some distance
back from the street, having gardens in front occupied
by grass and flower plots, with clumps of rich green
foliage overhead. The finest mansion in the town is
the property of a wealthy Scotchman, who has been
settled in Canandaigua for upwards of forty years.
It is really a superb residence, more like a ducal
palace than the dwelling of an humble citizen. The
business portion of the town is that nearest the lake,
being a continuation of the main and indeed almost
the only street of which it boasts.

The country being beautiful and the roads good,
I preferred taking the common highway to Auburn,
forty miles distant, instead of the railway. I there
fore hired a gig, and drove that day to Geneva,
sixteen miles from Canandaigua. On leaving the
latter, the road led me close to the northern end of
the lake, when it suddenly turned to the east, leading
over a succession of gentle undulations of the richest
country. Before the Erie canal was constructed, and,
of course, previous to the introduction of railways,
this was the great line of road between the Hudson
and Lake Erie. Along it the earliest settlements
were consequently made, so that now the aspect

VOL. III. I

170 THE WESTERN WOULD.

which the country on either side presents is more
like that of an English than an American landscape.
The farm-houses and farming establishments along
the road are large, comfortable, and commodious;
the farmers here being of the wealthier class of prac
tical agriculturists. Some of the houses are built of
brick, others of wood ; but whether of brick or wood,
they are all painted equally white, which, in summer
time, gives them a refreshing effect, in contrast with
the clustering foliage which environs them. The after
noon was well advanced when I approached Geneva ;
and never shall I forget the beauty of the landscape
which suddenly burst upon my view on gaining the
top of the last hill on the road, about a mile back
from the town. Below me lay Geneva, its white
walls peering through the rich leafy screens which
shaded them. Immediately beyond it was the placid
volume of Lake Seneca, from the opposite shore of
which the county of Seneca receded in a succession of
lovely slopes and terraces. Large tracts of fertile
and well cultivated land were also visible on either
hand ; and the whole, lit up as it was by a lustrous
and mellow autumn sun, had a warmth and enchant
ment about it such as I had but seldom beheld in
connexion with a landscape.

Geneva is a much larger town than Canandaigua ;
and I know no town in America or elsewhere, with
so charming a site. Lake Seneca, like all the other
lakes in this portion of the State except Oneida, is
long and narrow, and lies in a northerly and southerly
direction. On its west bank, at its extreme northern
end, stands Geneva. The business part of the town
is almost on the level of the lake ; the bank, which
is clayey, high and abrupt, suddenly dropping at the

THE WESTERN WORLD. 171

point where it is built. It is on the high bank, before
it thus drops, that the remainder of the town is built,
most of the houses of which command a view of the
lake. The most eligible residences are those which
skirt the lake, with nothing but the width of the road
between them and the margin of the bank. They
have an eastern aspect, and nothing can exceed the
beauty of the view commanded from their windows, as
the morning sun rises over the landscape before them.
I was so delighted with Geneva that I prolonged
7ny stay there for two days longer than I had at first
intended. On the evening of my arrival I took a
small boat and went out upon the lake. It is about
forty miles long, but scarcely a mile wide opposite
Geneva. The air was still, but the western sky
looked angry and lurid. As it gradually blackened, a
fitful light every now and then faintly illuminated the
dark bosoms of the massive clouds, which had now
made themselves visible in that direction. As they
stole higher and higher up the clear blue heavens, the
illumination became more frequent and more brilliant,
and nothing was now wanting but the muttering
of the thunder to complete the usual indications of a
coming storm. I was then some distance up the
lake, and made as speedily for town as possible.
When I reached it, innumerable lights were gleaming
from its windows upon the yet placid lake, whose
dark, still surface was occasionally lit up for miles by
the lightning which now coruscated vividly above it.
The first growl of the distant thunder broke upon my
ear as I stepped ashore ; and, pleased with my escape,
I hurried, without loss of time, to the hotel. In a
few minutes afterwards the progressing storm burst
over the town, and the dusty streets soon ran with
i 2

172 THE WESTERN WORLD.

torrents of water. The effect upon the lake was
magnificent. It was only visible when the lightning,
which now fell fast on all sides, accompanied by
awful crashes of thunder, gleamed upon its surface,
and seemed to plunge, flash after flash, into its now
agitated bosom. You could not only thus distinguish
the dark leaden waters, with their foaming white
crests, but the shore on the opposite side for a con
siderable distance inland, and on either hand. The
whole would be brilliantly lighted up for a moment
or two, after which it would relapse into darkness, to
be rendered visible again by the next succession of
flashes which fell from the black and overcharged
heavens. In half an hour it was all over, when the
scene displayed itself in a new aspect, veiled in the
pale lustre of the moon.

A steamboat communication is daily maintained
during summer between Geneva and the southern
end of the lake. On the following day I sailed
about half way up, and rode back to Geneva in the
afternoon by the bank. Both shores, which were at
some points low and flat, and at others elevated and
rolling, were highly cultivated, which is indeed the
case with the whole of this section of the State
almost from Lake Ontario, south to the Pennsylvania
line. I left Geneva after a sojourn of three days,
and with recollections of it which will never be
effaced.

Passing around the head of the lake I crossed the pic
turesque and rich agricultural county of Seneca, lying
between Lakes Seneca and Cayuga, which are about the
same size, and stretch in long parallel lines in the same
direction. After a drive of about three hours' duration I
found myself descending upon Lake Cay uga, at a point a

THE WESTERN WORLD. 173

few miles from its northern extremity. I had scarcely
begun to puzzle myself as to how I was to get across,
when the means of passing the lake was gradually
presented to my astonished vision. A bridge of
nearly a mile in length spanned its volume at this
point, the opposite end of which first came in view ;
nor was it until I had reached the lake, that the
whole length of this stupendous viaduct was visible
to me. It was constructed of wood, and laid upon a
series of wooden piers, which lifted their heads in
long succession but a few feet above the level of the
water. It was in every way a more singular con
struction, in my estimation, than the long bridge over
the Potomac at Washington. There was a similar
structure a little to the left, over which the railway
passed; and before I had half crossed that which was
in the line of the common highway, the eastern train
shot from an excavation in the opposite bank, and
went panting over the railway bridge at unabated
speed. Lake Cayuga is the dividing line between
Eastern and Western New York, and in little more
than an hour after crossing it, I found myself in the
lovely town of Auburn.

I stayed here for the night, and visited the State
prison, in other words, one of the State penitentia
ries. But so much has already been written about
the prisons and prison discipline of the United States,
in which the penal establishment at Auburn has inva
riably been described, that I need not here trouble
the reader with an account of it. It is, of course,
surrounded by high walls, and is in its exterior both
neat and elegant, looking half like a prison and half
like a palace.

Next morning I betook myself once more to the

174 THE WESTERN WOULD.

railway on my way to Utica. Our first stage was
Syracuse, the capital of the county of Onondaga,
one of the most populous as well as one of the finest
agricultural counties in the State. On approaching
Syracuse, which is an open, airy, handsome town,
divided into two sections by the Erie canal, which
runs through it, we passed the great salt works of
Salina. The salt springs of the district appear to be
inexhaustible. They are the property of the State,
which derives a good annual revenue from leasing
them. Enormous quantities of the finest salt are
yearly made here, both for home consumption and
for exportation. There are some purposes, however,
such as curing, for which it is not available, and
for which it comes but partially in competition with
the rock salt at Liverpool.

From Syracuse to Utica the distance is fifty miles.
Rome lies in the way. Some little time after we had
performed half the journey, the railway led for nearly
five miles in one continuous straight line, through a
dense forest, which kept in perpetual shade a large
tract of low marshy soil. At the extreme end of the
long vista which thus opened through the wood,
I could discern a white steeple rising over a circum
jacent mass of bright red brickwork.

" What place are we now approaching," I demanded
of a fellow-traveller.

" Rome," said he. " I live to Rome myself; it's
gettin' to be quite a place." I thought it was high
time that Rome did so.

We were now in the valley of the Mohawk, which
stretches eastward to the Hudson ; and in less than
an hour after leaving Rome I found myself in Utica,
the capital of Central New York.

THE WESTERN WOKLD. 175

The reader will be astonished at finding so many
places in this modern scene named after those with
which his schoolboy reminiscences are so intimately
associated. They are jumbled together in ludicrous
juxtaposition ; sometimes one and the same county
in the New World containing two towns, living in
peaceable intercourse with each other, for which there
was scarcely room enough on two continents in the
Old. New York, in particular, abounds in places
having classical appellations; a rather singular cir
cumstance when we consider the many beautiful and
expressive Indian words which it might have appro
priated to the purposes of a civic nomenclature. Pro
ceeding eastward from the Falls, one of the first places
you meet with is Attica, from which a single stage
brings you to Batavia. A little to the east of Rochester
you pass through Egypt to Palmyra, whence you pro
ceed to Vienna, and shortly afterwards arrive at
Geneva. Ithaca is some distance off to the right,
whilst Syracuse, Rome, and Utica follow in succession
to the eastward. It is a pity that the people in the
New World should not content themselves with indi
genous names. They are quite as pretty, and would
in many cases be more convenient than those which
have been imported. The inconvenience arises not
so much from naming places after cities which have
passed away, as after those who are still extant and
flourishing. There is a New London on the Thames
in Connecticut, and there is a London on the Thames
in Western Canada. There is scarcely a town of any
note in Europe but has scores of namesakes in
America, whilst the Indian dialects are replete with
significant and sonorous terms. WTiat a happy
change did "Little York" make when it called
itself Toronto!

176 THE WESTERN WORLD.

Utica is a fine town, with from twelve to fifteen
thousand inhabitants. Its importance in a commercial
point of view has greatly declined since the construc
tion of the railway connecting the Hudson with the
West. Previously it occupied the position of a kind
of advanced post of New York, from which the in
terior was chiefly supplied during the winter. The
communication, however, being now so rapid and
direct with the sea-board, its business is chiefly of
a local character. The Erie canal passes through the
centre of it. It is crossed at right angles by the
broad and noble Genesee-street, the coup-d'ceil of
which, as seen from the canal bridge, is exceedingly
striking.

When in Utica a few years previously, I strolled
into the supreme court of the State, which was then
in session. Neither the justices on the bench nor
the members at the bar wore any particular dress to
distinguish them from the spectators. When I entered,
a venerable looking man, with 'thin grey locks, a high
forehead, and altogether an engaging countenance, was
addressing the court, arguing a demurrer. The case
was that of Cooper (the novelist) v. Stone (the editor
of a New York paper), the action having been brought
for a libel, published by the latter, in reviewing the
former's " Naval History of America." It appeared
that the defendant had demurred to the declaration
filed in the case, and the advocate was now engaged
in maintaining its sufficiency in law. There was a
good deal in his appearance and manner which induced
me to think that he was not one of the fraternity in
the midst of whom he was then placed, whilst the
frequency with which he moistened his parched palate
with the orange which lay on the table before him,
indicated that he was t( unaccustomed to public speak-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 177

ing." The case at the time excited great interest,
and I remained for nearly an hour listening to the
argument. It appeared that the defendant, Stone, had
himself many years ago published something replete,
as the advocate contended, with blunders, which an
over zealous critic might have turned to some account.
Having adduced two or three of these, which sufficed
for his purpose, he insisted that " those who lived in
glass houses should not throw stones." It was not
until I had left the court that I was given to under
stand that the advocate in question was the great
American novelist himself. His appearance in a
forensic capacity, in thus pleading his own cause, did
him considerable credit.

The tourist should always make a halt at Utica,
that he may visit the Falls of Trenton in its neigh
bourhood. They are fourteen miles to the north of
the city, and are approached in summer by a road
which is tolerably good. On the morning after my
arrival in Utica, I hired a conveyance, and proceeded
to them. Immediately on leaving the city, which is
built upon its right bank, I crossed the Mohawk, here
a sluggish stream of very insignificant dimensions.
Moore must have seen it much lower down, ere he
could speak of the " mighty Mohawk." The road
then led, for nearly a couple of miles, over a tract of
rich bottom land, as flat as the fertile levels of the
Genesee valley. It then rose, with but little inter
mission, for the next six miles, by a succession of
gentle slopes, which constitute the northern side of
the valley of the Mohawk. On reaching the summit,
I turned to look at the prospect behind me. It was
magnificent. The valley in its entire breadth from
bank to bank lay beneath me ; whilst an extensive
13

178 THE WESTERN WORLD.

range of it in an easterly and westerly direction came
also within the scope of my vision. As far as the eye
could reach it was cultivated like a garden, whilst far
beneath, on its lowest level, on the opposite bank of
the river, the serpentine course of which I could
trace for miles, lay Utica, its skylights and tin roofs
glistening like silver in the mid-day sun. The opposite
slope of the valley was dotted with villages, some of
which were plainly visible to me, although from twelve
to twenty miles distant in a straight aerial line.

To the north the view was also extensive, but of a
more sombre cast. The country was less cleared, and
plain after plain seemed to stretch before me, covered
by the dark gloomy pine. For the rest of the way to
Trenton the road descended by a series of sloping
terraces, similar to those by which it had risen from
the valley.

After taking some refreshment at the hotel, which
is beautifully situated, spacious, and comfortable, and
which at the time was full of visitors, I descended
the precipitous bank to look at the Falls. I dropped
by a steep zigzag staircase, of prodigious length, to the
margin of the stream, which flowed in a volume as
black as ink over its grey rocky bed. Frowning pre
cipices rose for some distance on either side, overhung
with masses of rich dark green foliage. A projecting
mass of rock, immediately on my left, seemed to in
terpose an effectual barrier to my progress up the
stream. But, on examining it more carefully, I
found it begirt by a narrow ledge overhanging the
water, along which a person with a tolerably cool
head could manage to proceed by laying hold of the
chain, which either public or private beneficence had
fastened for his use to the precipice on his left. On

THE WESTERN WORLD. 179

doubling this point, the adventurous tourist is recom
pensed for all the risks incurred by the sight which
he obtains of the lower fall. It is exceedingly grand,
but not on the same scale of magnitude as the Falls
of the Genesee. It is the accompanying scenery more
than the cataract itself that excites your admiration.
The opposite bank is high and steep, but not precipi
tous, and is buried in verdure ; whilst that on which
you stand rises for about 200 feet like a grey wall
beside you. The fall occupies an angle here, formed
by the river in its course. In turning it, you take
the outer circle, climbing from ledge to ledge, the
friendly chain again aiding you every now and then
in your course, until you find yourself on a line with
the upper level of the fall. Here the cataract next
in order comes in full view; and a magnificent object
it is, as its broken and irregular aspect rivets your
attention. It is by far the largest fall of the whole
series, being, in fact, more like two falls close to
gether than one. There are two successive plunges,
the first being perpendicular, and the second a short
but fierce rapid foaming between them, being divided
into a succession of short leaps by the jagged and
irregular ledge over which it is taken. By the time
you attain the level of the top of this fall, by climbing
the still steep and slippery rock, you reach the wooded
part of the bank. Your progress is now comparatively
easy, the path occasionally leading you beneath the
refreshing shade of the large and lofty trees. Below,
you had the native rock rising in one unbroken
volume precipitously overhead; but you have now on
either side what may be regarded more as the ruin of
rock, the trees with which both banks are covered
springing, for the most part, from between huge

180 THE WESTERN WOULD.

detached masses, which seem to have been confusedly
hurled from some neighbouring height. The channel
of the stream is broad and shallow up to the next fall,
which, in its dimensions and appearance, resembles a
mill-dam. Above, the river contracts again, until in
some places it is only a few yards wide, where it foams
and roars as it rushes in delirious whirl over its rocky
bed. A little way up is the last cataract, the most
interesting in some respects, although the smallest of
all. To pass it you have to turn a projecting point,
the narrow footpath around which brings you almost
in contact with the rushing tide, as it bounds over the
ledge. Here the chain is almost indispensable for
safety. A melancholy interest attaches to this fall,
from some sad and fatal accidents which occurred at
it before the chain was placed where it is. The
gorge through which the West Canada Creek, such
being the name of the stream, here forces its way, is
about two miles in length. Between the upper fall
and the small village at the northern extremity of the
chasm* the channel of the river is a succession of
rapids and dark eddying pools covered with patches
of dirty white foam, I managed with great difficulty,
and with the aid of a guide, to ascend it, returning to
the hotel by the open road leading along the top of
the bank.

Trenton is well worth a visit, and the tourist may
enjoy himself for some days in its neighbourhood.
There is much about it to remind one of the wild and
romantic scenery of Campsie Glen, in the neighbour
hood of Glasgow. There is the same succession of
falls and rapids, but the stream is larger, and the
cataracts on a greater scale, at Trent'on than at
Campsie,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 181

Instead of returning to Utica, and descending the
valley of the Mohawk by railway to Albany, I
determined to strike across the country from Trenton
to the St. Lawrence, descend that river to Montreal,
and find my way thence, by Lake Champlain, into the
United States. After a rather tedious day's journey
I reached Watertown, and soon afterwards found
myself on the American bank of the St. Lawrence,
just as it emerges from Lake Ontario. I crossed it
at once into Canada, landing in the town of Kings
ton. For the reason stated in briefly adverting to
Toronto, I shall make no particular allusion to that
portion of the remainder of my journey which led
me through Canada.

There were two sets of steamers plying between
Kingston and Montreal ; one descending all the
rapids, and the other stopping short at those of
Lachine, close to the latter city. I selected one of
the former, determined, when I was at it, to shoot
them all.

Rounding the point in front of the town, on the
top of which stands the impregnable little fortress of
Fort Henry, we shaped our course down the river,
the surface of which was broken into several narrow
and winding channels, by the many islands with
which it was studded. The extraordinary group
called the " Thousand Islands " commences about
twelve miles below Kingston, and extends to Brock-
ville, about sixty miles further down. As we ap
proached, the St. Lawrence seemed to be absorbed by
the land before us, which was covered with wood, and
appeared to sweep in an unbroken line across the
channel of the river. It was not until we were close
upon it that the whole mass seemed suddenly to

182 THE WESTERN WORLD.

move, and the change effected was as complete as
when the scenes are shifted in a theatre. Some
portions appeared to be drawn aside in one direction,
and others in another, until that which, a few minutes
before, looked like one solid mass of earth, seemed as
it were to be suddenly broken into fragments, divided
from each other by innumerable channels, varying as
much in their dimensions as in the directions which
they took. We made for the widest, and plunged
into the labyrinth. We sometimes gave the islands
a good berth, but at others had them so close on
either side of us that I could almost jump ashore from
the paddle-boxes. In naming them the " Thousand
Islands," people came far within the mark as regards
their actual number, which, I understand, exceeds
fifteen hundred. They are of all sizes, from an area
of 600 acres to that of an ordinary dining-table. They
rise but a few feet above the surface of the water,
some being covered with large timber, and others
with stunted shrubbery, whilst some, the smallest of
the group, have no covering whatever, nothing but
the bare rock peering above the river. For the whole
way through them you are subjected to a series of
surprises. You puzzle yourself every now and then
as to where your next channel is to be, when perhaps
the advance of a few yards more solves the difficulty,
one, two, or more., suddenly opening up on the right or
on the left, as the case may be. This singular group
seems to be the remains of a low ridge of earth and
rock which lay in the river's course just as it emerged
from the lake, the accumulated waters of which at
length burst through the impediment without carry
ing it bodily off, but making for themselves sufficient
room to escape.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 183

From Brockville, for some distance down, the broad
channel of the river is free from impediment. Twelve
miles below is the town of Prescott, and on the Ame
rican bank opposite that of Ogdensburg. During
the insurrection which broke out in Canada in 1837,
a piratical expedition landed from the latter place at
Windmill Point, a few miles below Prescott. They
were under the command of a Pole of the name of
Von Shultz. I am not aware whether he was ever a
recipient of British bounty or not, but perhaps Lord
Dudley Stuart could tell. The bucaniers were de
feated, and Von Shultz was hanged.

On leaving Prescott we crossed to Ogdensburg for
passengers. This town is built at the mouth of the
Oswegatchie, a rapid stream, with so dark a current
that, on entering the St. Lawrence, it seems to run
with ready-made porter. Gliding down the river we
were soon in the midst of islands again, and found
ourselves ere long at the commencement of the rapids.

The first two or three which we passed were not
sufficiently formidable to cause more than a slight
ripple on the surface ; but by-and-by we approached
the great rapid, that called the Long Sault, and pre
paration was made for its descent. Even those
accustomed to shoot it seemed to grow more and
more excited as we approached ; it was no wonder,
then, that a novice like myself should partake largely
of the feeling. We touched for a few minutes at
Dickenson's landing, a little above the rapid, and
already alluded to as being at the upper extremity of
the St. Lawrence canal, constructed to enable vessels
not built for descending the rapid, to avoid it. On
getting afloat again the ladies retired to the cabin,
half-frightened at what was before them, and deter-

184 THE WESTERN WORLD.

mined, at least, not to witness the danger. I took
my post upon deck, where I resolved to remain until
the exciting episode was over. The rapid was in
sight. Independently of the fact that I was about to
shoot it, it was an object of the highest interest to
me, for who has not heard of the rapids of the St.
Lawrence ? In my mind they were associated with
my earliest reading reminiscences. We were close
to the Canada shore, some wooded islands intervening
between us and the American bank. The rapid
commenced amongst the islands, but did not exhibit
itself in its full force and grandeur until it emerged
from them into the clear and somewhat contracted
channel immediately below. Throughout its whole
length it is much more formidable on the Canada
than on the American side. It was by the latter
alone, previously to the completion of the canal, that
the barges which were used in the navigation of
the river could ascend, on their way from Montreal
to Prescott. It sometimes required fourteen yoke of
oxen to tow an empty barge slowly against the cur
rent, not where it was most impetuous, but close to
the shore, where its force was comparatively small.
It was by the Canada side that we were to descend
the rapid, which leapt, foamed, and tossed itself wildly
about, immediately in front of us. As far as we
could see down the river, the dark leaden-looking
water was broken into billowy masses crested with
spray, like the breakers upon a low rocky shore,
stretching far out to sea ; whilst the roar with which
the delirious current was accompanied, was like the
sound of a cataract hard by. For nearly a quarter
of a mile above the rapid the current ran smoothly,
but with great velocity, which increased as it ap-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 185

preached the line at which the channel dipped still
more, agitating the mighty volume, which seemed to
tear itself to pieces against the sunken rocks, over
which it dashed with impetuous speed. A period, as
it were, of breathless expectation ensued, from the time
of our entering upon the preliminary current, until we
crossed the line in question. The steamer seemed here
to take its race for the plunge which it made from the
smooth into the broken current. To one unaccus
tomed to such a scene, a moment or two of semi-
stupefaction ensues, after getting fairly within the
embraces of the rapid. It seemed to me at first that
we had suddenly been brought to a halt, and were
standing still, with the water boiling and surging
around us in a mighty caldron, whilst islands, main
land, rocks, trees, houses, and every fixed thing
ashore seemed suddenly to have been loosened from
their foundations, and to be reeling around me.
On becoming more collected I discerned the real
state of things; the steamer* was shooting like an
arrow along the stormy descent, lashing the angry
waters with her lusty paddle-wheels to • give her
steerage-way. She thus rushed on for miles in the
course of a few minutes, the objects ashore flitting by
us as do those which line a railway. By-and-by we
reached a point where the current, although yet
greatly agitated, was comparatively tranquil, when
the very steamer seemed to breathe more freely after
her perilous race. On looking around me, the islands
were gone, and the broad and broken channel was no
longer to be seen, the banks had fallen from their
well-wooded elevations almost to the water's edge,
the stream was contracted — it was placid in front of
us, but wildly agitated behind — in short the whole

186 THE WESTERN "WORLD.

scene had changed. The whole looked like a troubled
dream, and it was some time ere I could recall, in
their proper succession, the different incidents which
marked it.

"We soon afterwards turned a point which shut the
rapid from our view, and in about half an hour more
were at Cornwall, the frontier town of Canada West.
Here we stayed for the night, resuming our journey
at a very early hour in the morning.

Shortly after leaving Cornwall, we emerged from
a mazy but very interesting channel upon the broad
and placid volume of Lake St. Francis. It is about
fifty miles in length, and is studded at its upper end
with a pretty cluster of islands. Indeed, its whole
surface is more or less dotted with islands, on one of
which the highlanders of Glengary, a county in
Canada West, bordering the lake on the north, have
erected a rude conical monument of unhewn stone,
in honour of Sir John Colborne, now Lord Seaton,
who took such prompt and decisive measures for the
suppression of the insurrection in 1837 and 1838.
The boundary line between the two provinces is
but a little way below, and this monument has been
rather ungraciously raised in sight of the kabitans.
Passing the boundary, we found ourselves at once
amongst the French settlements; the long, low,
wooded bank, which loomed upon us in hazy outline
to the south, being a portion of the fertile seigniory
of Beauharnois — both banks of the St. Lawrence
being now within British jurisdiction. At the foot
of the lake, on its northern shore, stands the little
French Canadian town of Coteau du Lac. And here
commences the series of rapids, occurring, with but
little intermission, between Lake St. Francis and

THE WESTERN WORLD. 187

Lake St. Louis. The channel of the river was
once more impeded with islands, a screen of which
stretched across it on its emerging from the lake,
which almost entirely concealed the rapids below from
the town. The first rapid which occurred was that
known as the Coteau; it was short, but exceedingly
impetuous, and we seemed to clear it almost at a bound.
Between that and the Cedars, the next rapid, the
current was deep and strong, but the surface was
unbroken. We shot at a very swift pace by the
village of the Cedars, situated at the head of the rapid
on a pretty bend of the high bank on our left. On
turning a point immediately below it, the rapid
became visible, and in ten minutes more we were at
the foot of it. The channel is here very wide again,
and the rapid pours between the islands which stud
it, as well as between them and the banks. Here the
strongest point of the rapid is on the southern side,
where the water, as it leapt from rock to rock, rose
high in the air, crested with white foam which looked
like snow wreaths in the distance. For a mile or
two the channel was again unimpeded and smooth,
though the current was still very strong. We then
approached another group of islands, with seemingly
several channels between them. Here I had proof,
in the tossing and angry waters before me, that we
were about to shoot another rapid, known as the
Cascades. We were soon in the midst of it, when
we seemed to glide down a hill into the tranquil
volume of Lake St. Louis. On looking to the left,
as we pursued our way down the lake, I perceived a
noble estuary stretching for miles in a north-westerly
direction, with a line of blue hills faintly traced along
the sky beyond it. This was the mouth of the Ottawa,

188 THE WESTERN WOULD.

which in uniting here with the St. Lawrence forms
Lake St. Louis. I looked with much interest upon
the spot where two such mighty streams peacefully
mingled their confluent waters ; one issuing from
the distant Lake Superior, and the other rising in
the remote territories of the Hudson's Bay Company.
The St. Lawrence came foaming and roaring down its
rugged channel into the lake, whereas the Ottawa
stole gently into it, in a broad and scarcely perceptible
current. Some distance above, however, its channel
is interrupted, like that of the St. Lawrence, by a
succession of rapids.

A run of two hours sufficed to bring us to the
lower end of Lake St. Louis, and here we prepared
to descend the rapid of Lachine, the last great rapid
of the St. Lawrence. It is by no means so formidable
in point of size as the Long Sault Rapid, but it is
more perilous to navigate. The larger steamers which
descend the river do not attempt it, stopping short
at the village of Lachine, whence passengers are con
veyed for nine miles by coach to Montreal. To
almost every one on board was assigned his place ere
we reached the top of the rapid. I was near the
pilot, who was an old Indian, and I could not but
mark the anxiety with which he watched the progress
of the boat as he managed the wheel, seeming desir
ous of getting her into a particular line ere she com
menced her headlong race. As she shot down she
rocked heavily from side to side, and when about
half-way to the foot of the rapid, her keel grated the
rock at the bottom. The concussion was severe, and
as she lurched over a little before getting again fairly
afloat, the glancing waters leapt upon deck, soaking
many of the passengers to the knees. There were

THE WESTERN WORLD. 189

few on board who were not frightened, and some, the
ladies particularly, screamed outright. The alarm
was but momentary, and before we had recovered our
equanimity we had emerged from the islands which
the rapids here also encircle, and had the noble
capital of Canada full in view on our left, nestling
beneath the hill which gives it its name, close to the
north bank of this the main branch of the stream.*

* Montreal is no longer the capital of the Province. The out
rageous conduct of the factious cliques, who opposed the Eebellion
Losses Bill, induced the Governor General to remove the seat of
Government to Toronto. It appears that it has since been decided
to divide the honour between Toronto and Quebec. The policy of
thus having a peripatetic Government, oscillating between two points
about 600 miles apart, is very questionable. Toronto is, in every
way, better fitted than any other town, for being the Capital of the
United Provinces.

CHAPTER VII.

FROM MONTREAL TO SARATOGA, ALBANY, AND WEST
POINT. — MILITARY SPIRIT AND MILITARY ESTABLISH
MENTS OF THE UNITED STATES.

Departure from Montreal. — The " Tail of the Eapid." — Appearance
of Montreal from the river. — Laprairie. — Lake Champlain. —
House's Point. — Banks of the Lake. — The Kepresentative System
in Vermont — The "Devil's Elbow."— Whitehall. — Saratoga. —
Life at the Springs. — The Table-d'h6te. — Troy— Albany.— Acci
dent on the Hudson. — Stay at Hyde Park. — Scenery of the Hud
son.— The Highlands.— West Point—The Military Academy.—
The Military Spirit in America. — Exaggerated notions respecting
it. — Military Establishments. — Cost of the Army and Navy. —
Contrast presented by the Military Expenditure of the United
Kingdom and the United States. — The Defence of our Colonies. —
Their Mismanagement. — Our Military Force in Canada.

I STAYED for several days at Montreal, to which I
returned after having descended the river for nearly
£00 miles more to Quebec. It was a beautiful morn
ing, near the close of August, when I finally bade
adieu to the former city on my way back to the
United States. To take the railway to St. John's, I
had to cross the ferry to Laprairie. In crossing, the
ferry-boat skirted what is called the tail of the rapid,
and was tossed considerably about by the yet uneasy
river. I looked with some interest at the rapid itself,
raging above us, down which I had been hurried but a
few days before, and in shooting which I must con
fess that I was somewhat disconcerted, although not
without cause.

As viewed from the river, the position of Montreal
is exceedingly commanding. It is a large town, with a

THE WESTERN WOULD. 191

population of about 60,000, being chiefly built of stone,
and lying close to the margin of the river. A line of
solid stone quays fronts the city, which rises in a
dense mass behind them, the background of the pic
ture being filled up by the hill behind, which is
skirted with orchards and dotted with villas. One of
the most prominent objects in the outline of the
town as seen from the river is the Catholic Cathe
dral — with the exception of that in Mexico, the finest
ecclesiastical edifice on the continent. There is a new
and an old town, much of the former reminding one of
some portions of Havre or Boulogne. The new
town is more symmetrically laid out, the streets
being broad, and the architecture of a superior
description.

I took the railway at Laprairie, and after a short
ride over a tolerably well cultivated country, found
myself at St. John's, not far from the northern ex
tremity of Lake Champlain. I was desirous of
visiting this lake, on account of the important part
which it played, not only in our two wars with
America, but in the conflicts which so frequently
took place between the French and English colonies,
whilst England still ruled from the Kenebec to the
Savannah, and whilst Quebec and Montreal were
French towns, and " New France " comprised within
its vast limits fully two-thirds of a continent, on
which France has no longer a footing.

I went on board the American steamer, which was
waiting for us at St. John's, and in a few minutes
afterwards we were under weigh. The steamer was,
in her appearance and all her appointments, one of
the most magnificent of the kind I had seen in
America. She was a floating palace.

392 THE WESTERN WORLD.

Shortly after getting upon the lake, which was very
narrow at the top, as it is indeed throughout its entire
length, which is about 150 miles, we crossed the
45th parallel of latitude, here forming the boundary
line between Canada and the United States. Rouse's
Point, which has figured somewhat of late in the
diplomacy of the two countries, was pointed out to me
as we approached the boundary. I must confess that it
appeared to me that nothing but an overpowering ne
cessity could justify the cession of so important a mili
tary position. The navigable channel of the lake is
here not many yards wide, and is so situated as re
gards the point which projects for some distance into
it, that a vessel approaching it would be for a con
siderable time exposed to a raking fire from stem to
stern, before she could come abreast of it and make
use of her broadside. The same would be the case
were she to approach it from the other side ; so that a
ship proceeding from Canada to the United States,
and vice versa, would not only be thus exposed on
approaching, but also on receding from the fort. For
some time after the boundary line was originally
agreed upon, it was supposed that the point fell
within the American side of it; and, acting on this
supposition, the American government proceeded to
fortify it. It was found, however, on accurate ob
servations being taken, that it fell upon the Canada
side of the line, and the works in progress were of
course immediately discontinued. It remained with
out anything further being done to it in the hands of
the British government, until by the treaty of Wash
ington, negotiated on our behalf by Lord Ashburton,
it was ceded in perpetuity to the United States.
And what was the equivalent ? The smaller moiety of

TILE WESTERN WOULD. 193

the debateable land in Maine, all of which we claimed
to be our own. Better have ended the controversy by
giving up the whole of the disputed territory, and re
taining Rouse's Point, which had nothing to do with it,
and respecting which there was no controversy. We
should have been quite as well off, even on the route
between Halifax and Quebec, had we ceded to the
Americans the line for which they contended, as we
are by the retention of only that portion of the dis
puted ground which has been left us. The territory
in dispute was valuable to us only inasmuch as its
possession would have enabled us to construct a
pretty direct military road, railway, or common road,
between Montreal, or Quebec, and Halifax. It was
valuable to the Americans only inasmuch as their pos
session of it would prevent us from constructing such
a road. The portion of it which has been ceded to
us does not strengthen us, whilst their parting with it
does not weaken them. The road, to be of any value
as a military road, must not only lie entirely within
our own territory, but should be so situated as to be
commanded by us at all points. But, should it ever
be now built, it will be commanded for nearly half
its length by the Americans. A road leading through
that portion of the country must be virtually, in time
of war, in possession of the party who can keep the
largest force most easily near it in the field. Project
ing, as the northern part of Maine now does, like a
wedge between the two extremities of this intended
road, to keep it within our own territory it would be
necessary to carry it, by a very circuitous route, up
almost to the St. Lawrence, so as to turn the portion
of the State mentioned, which approaches so near
the banks of that river. A British force stationed
VOL. III. K

194 THE WESTERN WORLD.

along the line of the road would be at every disad
vantage for want of a good basis of operations ; whereas
an American force would have the sources of its
supply immediately behind it, and a secure means of
retreat, should retreat become necessary. In addition
to this, as regards the road, the latter would have the
advantage of acting, as it were, from the centre of the
circle, an arc of which the road would describe around
it. The Americans could thus command it at any
point for hundreds of miles, and possession of it at
one point would be tantamount to a possession of the
whole line. Yet it is for this that we have given up
the key of Canada in the neighbourhood of Montreal
— a point commanding the most direct and practicable
highway between Montreal and Albany, between the
St. Lawrence and the Hudson. It may be urged that
it matters but little, as we are not likely to go to war
again with the United States. I trust we are not,
but stranger events have happened within the year
than the breaking out of such a war. Besides, how
much longer we are to retain Canada as a dependency
is a question. Should she merge into the Union, the
value of Rouse's Point as a military position will
materially decline; but should she take an inde
pendent position on the continent, as this country
would naturally wish her to do in case of separation,
she would feel herself much disabled, in a military
point of view, by the loss of the point in question.
In time of war it would throw open to the enemy the
highway to her capital. It was our duty, in con
sulting our own convenience, to have some regard
for the interests of our dependency ; and the time
may yet come when Canada will have reason bitterly to
regret the ill-starred liberality of the mother country.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 195

Having passed Rouse's Point, we made down the
lake at a very rapid rate. The sail was exceedingly
interesting, the lake being narrow, and the banks
varying a good deal in their outline, being in some
places deeply wooded, and in others highly cultivated.
With the exception of the small portion at its northern
end, lying within the Canada line, Lake Champlain
is entirely within American territory, forming, for
about 150 miles, the boundary between New York
and Vermont — the former constituting its west, and
the latter its east bank. The New York shore is
generally much lower than that of Vermont, which,
as you approach the middle of the lake, swells into
bold and sweeping undulations from its very margin.
Burlington, the chief town of Vermont, occupies a
fine sloping site on the east bank, about half way
down the lake. From this point, some idea may be
formed of the nature of the "Green Mountains"
which traverse this State, and from which it takes
its name. They are generally covered with masses of
pine forest, which impart to them that dark-green
sombre hue, which, in this respect at least, would
render them fit associates for the uplands of Monte
negro.

Vermont, though a strong Whig State in its poli
tics, is one of the most democratic of all the States
in its polity. It tried for a time the experiment of
a single chamber; and there cannot be a better argu
ment in favour of a double one than the fact, that
this quiet, orderly, thrifty, decorous, and sober State
soon found it advisable to resort to it. Whether it
is the case now or not, I am not able to say ; but the
time was when each township in the State was repre
sented in the Lower House. It so happened, that in
K2

196 THE WESTERN WOULD.

one township there were then but three inhabitants,
a father, his son, and a farm servant. To avoid the
excitements consequent upon an election, they soon
came to an arrangement to go time about to the
legislature : the father first, to maintain the interests
of property in possession ; the son next, to see that
expectancies were duly cared for ; and then the ser
vant, to vindicate the rights of labour. How long the
arrangement lasted I was not informed.

After leaving Burlington, night rapidly closed
around us. Early next morning we came to a halt,
and shortly afterwards a great hubbub arose upon
deck, as if we were about suddenly to be run down
by something. I dressed hastily, resolved to die
standing, if at all necessary ; but on getting above I
found that all the uproar had been caused by the
operation of turning a point near the southern end
of the lake, called the " Devil's Elbow." We here
entered by a very narrow strait a small branch of the
lake, at the top of which was Whitehall, our destina
tion ; and as the boat was very long, and the turn
very sharp, it was necessary to pull her round by
means of ropes. I asked a fellow-passenger why the
point which we were thus awkwardly doubling was
called the Devil's Elbow more than anybody else's ;
but he remarked that he could not tell, unless it were
that it took " such a devil of a work to get round it."
Whitehall is most romantically situated within a few
rifle shots of this piece of Satanic anatomy. On
landing we proceeded to the hotel by omnibus, our
driver being a young man, dressed in superfine black,
and wearing a swallow-tailed coat. So far as dress
went, he might have stepped from his box into the
ball-room.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 197

From Whitehall I proceeded by stage to Saratoga,
on my way to Albany, the distance being about
seventy miles. With the exception of the land here
intervening between Lake Champlain and tide-water
on the Hudson, the narrow strip between the
lake and the St. Lawrence is the only impediment
which exists to a complete water communication
between New York and Montreal. It is this that
renders Rouse's Point so valuable a point of offence
and defence. Between Whitehall and Saratoga the
country was rolling and elevated, and very generally
cultivated. In some parts a deep heavy clay was on the
surface, in others the soil was light and rather sandy.
We proceeded by Glen's Falls on the Hudson, crossing
the river just below them. The town to which they
have given their name is neat and pretty, and the
whole neighbourhood is charming, but the Falls them
selves are nothing as compared to those of Trenton,
or of Portage on the Genesee. It was evening when
we arrived at Saratoga ; and glad was I to alight at
the hotel, after a hot dusty ride inside a closely-
packed coach.

Saratoga has lately been losing caste, but it is still,
to a considerable extent, a place of fashionable resort.
For a time the "select" had it all to themselves,
but by-and-by " everybody " began to resort to it,
and on " everybody " making his appearance the
" select " began to drop off, and what was once very
genteel is now running the risk of becoming exceed
ingly vulgar. The waters are held in considerable
repute as medicinal ; but of the vast crowds who flock
annually to Saratoga, but a small proportion are in
valids. The town is very elegant, the main street
being enormously wide, and shaded bv trees. The

198 THE WESTERN WORLD.

hotels are on a very great scale, and so are their
charges. At this, however, one cannot repine, seeing
that it is everybody's business to make hay when
the sun shines. It scarcely shines for three months
for the hotel-keepers of Saratoga, the crowds of
flying visitors going as rapidly as they come with the
season. For nine months of the year Saratoga is
dull to a degree — duller, if possible, even than Wash
ington during the recess of Congress. Suddenly the
doors are opened — the shutters are flung back from
the windows — curling wreaths of smoke rise from the
long smokeless chimneys — and the hotels seem sud
denly to break the spell that bound them to a pro
tracted torpidity. A day or two afterwards, a few
visitors arrive, like the first summer birds. But long
ere this, from the most distant parts of the Union
people have been in motion for " the Springs," and
scarcely a week elapses ere the long-deserted town is
full of bustle and animation, and ringing with gaiety.
A better spot can scarcely be selected for witnessing
the different races and castes which constitute the
heterogeneous population of the Union, and the
different styles of beauty which its different latitudes
produce. I stayed several days and enjoyed myself
exceedingly, and seldom have I seen together so
many beautiful faces and light graceful forms as
I have witnessed on an August afternoon upon the
broad and lengthy colonnade of the principal hotel.

I was so fortunate as to meet at Saratoga with a
Canadian friend, who had been my fellow-voyager
across the Atlantic. The gaiety of the place is in
fectious, and we soon entered into it with the same
eagerness as those around us. Saratoga society is not
encumbered with conventionalities. To society around

THE WESTERN WORLD. 199

it, in its general acceptation, it is what the un
dress boxes are to the more formal circle beneath.
You make acquaintances there whom you do not
necessarily know, or who do not know you else
where. The huge pile constituting the hotel covered
three sides of a large quadrangle, the fourth side
being formed by a high wall. The whole enclosed
a fine green, on a portion of which bowls could very
well be played. The three sides occupied by the build
ing were shaded by a colonnade, to protect the guests
from the hot sun. This part of the establishment was
generally appropriated by them, where they lounged
on benches and rocking chairs, and smoked and drank
both before and after dinner. The meal just men
tioned was the " grand climacteric " in the events of
each day. A few families who visit Saratoga dine in
their private apartments, but the vast majority dine in
public ; and they get but a partial view of Saratoga
life, who do not scramble for a seat at the taUe-ffhote.
In the chief hotel the dining-room is of prodigious
dimensions. It is, in fact, two enormous rooms thrown
into one, in the form of an L. Three rows of tables
take the sweep of it from end to end. It can thus ac
commodate at least 600 guests. The windows of both
sections of the dining-room looked into the quadrangle,
and my friend and I observed that several of the
loungers in the colonnade every now and then cast
anxious glances within as the tables were being laid
for dinner. It soon occurred to us that there might
be some difficulty in getting seats, a point on which
we sought to set our minds at rest, so that we might
be prepared, if, necessary, for the crush. But we
could effect no entrance into the dining-room to make
inquiry, every approach to it being locked. At last,
however, we caught in the colonnade a tall black

200 THE WESTERN WORLD.

waiter, dressed from top to toe in snow-white
livery.

ee Will there be any crush, when the bell rings?"
I demanded of him.

"Bit of a squeeze, that's all," he replied. "But
you needn't mind,"" he continued, regarding me, " the
fat uns get the worst on't."

" Then you can't tell us where we are to sit ? "
said I.

" Jist where you happen to turn up, gemmen," he
responded, grinning and showing his ivory.

" But surely," interposed my friend, " you can
secure a couple of chairs for us ? "

"It's jist within de power of possibles, gemmen,"
said he, grinning again, but with more significance
than before. My friend slipped a quarter of a dollar
into his hand. Oh ! the power of money. That
which was barely possible before, became not only
practicable but certain in a twinkling. He imme
diately left us to fulfil our wishes, telling us to look
in at the window and see where he secured chairs for
us. The doors were still locked, but by-and-by we
perceived parties of la.dies and gentlemen entering
the dining-room by those connecting it with the
private apartments, and taking their seats at table.
The ignobile vulgus, in the interior colonnade, were
kept out until the ladies and those accompanying
them were all seated. Then came the noisy jingle of
the long wished-for bell. Back flew every door, and
in rushed, helter-skelter, the eager crowd. We took
our post at the door nearest the chairs set apart for
us, on which we pounced as soon as we were pushed
in, and were thus secure in the possession of places
from which we could command a look of both arms
of the dining-room. It was some time ere all were

THE WESTERN WORLD. 201

seated ; and in the hurry scurry of entering it actu
ally seemed as if some were leaping in at the windows.
It was not because they were famished that they thus
pressed upon each other, but because each of them
wished to secure the best available seat. It was amusing
to witness, as they got in, the anxious glances which
they cast round the room, and then darted off in
dozens for the nearest vacant chairs. At length all
were seated, and the confusion subsided, but only to
give rise to a new hubbub. No sooner was the signal
made for a general assault upon the edibles, which
were plentifully served, than such a clatter of dishes
and a noise of knives and forks arose, mingled with a
chorus of human voices, some commanding, others
supplicating the \vaiters, as I had never heard before.
In one room were nearly 600 people eating at once,
and most of them talking at the same time. The
numerous waiters were flitting to and fro like rockets,
sometimes tumbling over each other, and frequently
coming in very awkward collision. Every now and
then a discord would be thrown into the harmony by
way of a smash of crockery or crystal. The din and
confusion were so terrific as utterly to indispose me
to dine. I could thus devote the greater portion of
my time to looking around me. The scene was truly
a curious one. There were many ladies present, but
the great bulk of the company consisted of the other
sex. The ladies were in full dress, the taUe-dlwte
at Saratoga being on a totally different footing from
that at other hotels. In about twenty minutes the
hall looked somewhat like the deck of a ship after
action. The survivors of the dinner still remained at
table, either sipping wine or talking together, but
the rest had disappeared as if they had been carried

K3

202 THE WESTERN WORLD.

out wounded or dead. Their fate was soon revealed
to us; for, on emerging shortly afterwards into the
interior colonnade, we found them almost to a man
seated in arm-chairs or rocking-chairs, some chewing,
but the great bulk smoking. Before dinner they
risked their necks to secure seats at table; after it
their anxiety was to secure them on the colonnade.
Hence their sudden disappearance from table.

When the day is not too hot, parties drive and walk
to the springs, or to some of the most attractive
points in the neighbourhood. The evenings are
generally devoted to amusement, those of a public
nature alternating between balls and concerts.

After spending several very pleasant days at Sara
toga, I parted with my friend and proceeded by
railway to Troy, a charming town with about 20,000
inhabitants, situated on the left bank of the Hudson,
at the head of its navigable channel. From Troy I
dropped down the river next day for seven miles by
steamer to Albany. A pretty thick fog mantled the
river, which the morning sun soon dissipated, and dis
played to us the capital of New York, with its noble
terraces and gilded domes, occupying a commanding
position on the high sloping bank on our right.

So far as the trade of the West is concerned,
Albany is at the head of the navigation of the
Hudson. It has two highways to the sea ; one the
Western railway, leading due east for 200 miles to
Boston ; the other the Hudson, leading due south to
New York. By canal, lake, and rail, it 'has ready
access due north to Montreal ; and by canal and rail
way the same, due west to the lakes. It is in every
point of view, therefore, advantageously situated as
an internal entrepdt, being the converging focus of

THE WESTERN WORLD. 203

four great highways, natural and artificial, from the
four points of the compass. There is an upper and
a lower town, the chief connexion between which is
State-street, which descends the steep bank in a
straight line from the capitol almost to the river.
The lower town is rather crowded, chiefly owing to
the narrow slip of land to which it has to accommo
date itself. Albany is, on the whole, well built, and
being the seat of government for the State, possesses
many very showy public edifices. It is rapidly
growing, its population being now about 50,000.

I was invited, on my way to JSTew York, to spend
a few days with a friend at the village of Hyde
Park, about half \vay down the Hudson, on its left
bank. To be thereby an early hour in the morning,
I left Albany by a steamer which left for New York
late at night. It was one of the last family of boats
launched upon the Hudson, and which are entirely
fitted up, with the exception of the space occupied
by the engines and boilers, for the accommodation
of passengers. She was of prodigious length, and
bore some resemblance to a great bird, with its wings
expanded. Her hull was like a large board turned
upon edge. As it was dark, and objects ashore
scarcely visible, and as I had but a few hours to sleep,
I retired to my berth soon after starting. In ascending
and descending the river the boats made very brief
stoppages at the intermediate towns, and to be ready
to go ashore as soon as we reached Hyde Park, I but
partially undressed, and threw myself on the top of
the berth, with a Scotch plaid over me. Mine was
the upper of two berths which occupied the state
room, or small cabin, which was one of about a
hundred that led off the great saloon, the lower berth

204 TEE WESTERN WOULD.

being occupied by a somewhat elderly gentleman,
who had gone to bed immediately on getting aboard,
and had slept soundly through the noise and hubbub
of starting. I had been asleep for some time, when
I was awaked by the noise of feet, rushing to and
fro, directly overhead. I had no time even to
conjecture the cause of it, when a tremendous crash
immediately below me, accompanied by a howl and
cry of terror from the old gentleman, convinced me
that something dreadful had happened, or was about
to do so. On looking over the edge of my berth to
ascertain what had occurred, I perceived a huge
rounded beam, shod with iron, and garnished with
some ropes and chains, projecting for a few feet into
the cabin, directly over the old gentleman's berth, to
which it confined him, having, in entering, almost
grated his chest. I immediately sprung into the
saloon, and called for one of the stewards, by whose
aid the captive was released, and just in time ; for
no sooner was he on his legs, ere the schooner, whose
bowsprit had so inopportunely obtruded itself upon
us, swung round a little, when the obtrusive bowsprit
was withdrawn, tearing away many of the boards
through which it had penetrated, and carrying off
some of the bedclothes with it, which dropped into the
water. Luckily, the old gentleman was more fright
ened than hurt; but so frightened was he, that, on
finding himself at liberty, he bounded into the saloon
in his shirt, fled as if a bulldog were pursuing him,
and did not stop till he reached the other end of the
huge cabin. By this time a number of ladies had
popped their heads out of their stateroom doors,
anxiously inquiring what was the matter, but sud
denly withdrew them, in still greater alarm, on wit-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 205

nessing so awkward an apparition. The accident
occurred near the city of Hudson, a few seconds after
the steam had been shot off to enable us to halt at
the town, the current drifting the boat against a
schooner which was lying at anchor, and which was
invisible, owing to the darkness of the night, and her
neglect to carry a light. It is seldom that any steam
boat accident occurs on the Hudson. Frequent as
they unfortunately are in the South, particularly on
the Mississippi, they are as rare on the northern
waters as they are with ourselves.

In a few minutes we got disengaged from our
awkward predicament, and proceeded on our way.
I was so discomposed, however, by what had hap
pened, that I thought no more of sleep ; so, com
pleting my toilette, I went upon deck, where I
remained till we reached Hyde Park, at which
I landed at an early hour.

I here spent three days of unmixed enjoyment
with my friend and his estimable family. He was a
resident of New York, where he was known and
universally respected for his affability, probity, and
benevolence ; but he generally spent a great portion
of the summer on the banks of the Hudson. He has
since paid the debt which we all owe to nature. He
was a native of Ireland, but had resided for about
twenty years in New York. He was indefatigable in
his endeavours, during their prevalence, to calm the
fierce excitements engendered by the Oregon question,
appealing in behalf of compromise and peace, not
only to the good feeling and interests of those
around him, but also to many occupying the highest
stations, both in the commercial and in the poli
tical circles of this country. Men high in power

206 THE WESTERN WORLD.

here perused these appeals, and the remonstrances
which accompanied them, nor were they without
their effect. There were few in New York held in
such universal esteem, or so favourably known to
men in high position here, in connexion with politics
and trade, as the late JACOB HARVEY.

I have known several who have sailed upon the
most vaunted of the European rivers, express an
unqualified opinion to the effect that the Hudson
was, in point of scenery, superior to them all. It is
a noble stream, both in itself and the purposes to
which it is applicable and applied. The country on
either side of it is cultivated like a garden, and from
the town of Glen's Falls to the city of New York it
is studded on either bank with a succession of cities,
towns, and villages. For some distance below Al
bany, its banks are comparatively tame, but by-and-
by they swell on the right, a little back from the
stream, into the majestic proportions of the Caatskill
Mountains. Hyde Park is a little below these, on
the opposite side, at a point where, in bending round,
the Hudson forms a small lake, studded with islets.
A finer view can scarcely be imagined than that ob
tained, looking towards the hills, from the high bank
overhanging the river at Hyde Park. I have enjoyed
it in Mr. Harvey's company, by night and by day, in
fierce sunshine, and in bright cold moonlight. The
combination of land and water, and of all that tends
to make up a magnificent landscape; is almost perfect.
The eye leaps over the intervening tree-tops, upon
the broad volume of the islet-studded Hudson, across
which it wanders to alight upon a large expanse of
undulating country, half cultivated and half wooded,
after ranging over which it reaches the foot of the

THE WESTERN WORLD. 207

mountains, to the dreamy heights of which it then
climbs. When looking at the hills, I used to amuse
myself in fancying that I could pick out the spot, on
their deeply wooded sides, where Rip Van Winkle
slept through the Revolution.

In company with Mr. Harvey, I visited Mr. Robert
Emmett, the nephew of him whom the law in Ire
land, upwards of forty years ago, claimed as its
victim. His home was about two miles from Hyde
Park, overlooking the river at the point where, per
haps, the finest view of the prospect, just alluded to,
can be obtained. We were well received by him and
his lively and pretty little wife. He was both intel
ligent and communicative, but seemed more disposed
for a quiet life than for the turmoil and strife of
politics. His time was chiefly divided between his
farm and his garden. His name was pretty freely
mixed up with the Irish demonstrations of last year
in New York ; but this, I presume, was more in de
ference to the wishes of others, who desired to have
the use of a name having no little influence with Irish
men, both at home and abroad, than from any
yearning on his own part to exchange the peaceable
occupations of country life for the turbulent orgies
of Tammany Hall.

On leaving Hyde Park, my destination was West
Point, about forty miles below; a spot possessing
some interest, not only from the romantic nature of
its position, and the part which it played in the
revolutionary war, but also from its being now the
military academy of the United States. About thirty
miles below Hyde Park the stream meets with a
ridge of hills known as the Highlands of the Hudson,
through which it forces its way by a narrow, winding

208 THE WESTERN WOflLD.

and very romantic channel. The town of Newburg
lies upon its right bank, just above its entrance into
the gorge. About midway between Newburg and
the Tappan Zee, on the other side of the ridge, is
West Point, completely imbedded amongst the hills,
the river, at the narrowest part of its channel, sweep
ing round three sides of it, which gives it the com
mand of several miles of the stream, at the most
critical point of its navigation. This point is the key
of the Hudson. It is, in fact, to the Hudson what
Rouse's Point is to Lake Champlain. It was this
important position that General Arnold was about to
deliver up to the British during the revolutionary
war, a project which was defeated by the capture of
the unfortunate Andre. It is, perhaps, as well for
all parties that it did not succeed, for the possession
of West Point by the imperial forces would, in all
probability, have changed the whole aspect of the war.
It is here that the future officers of the American
army are taught those branches of general and mili
tary education most befitting the career on which
they are about to enter. The establishment belongs
of course to the general government, and is under its
exclusive management and control. There is much
conflict of opinion in the United States as to the
necessity for, or the utility of, such an institution as
that at West Point. Its object is to prepare officers
cut and dry for the service; those who are in favour
of the establishment maintaining that too much atten
tion cannot be paid to the military education of those
who may be called upon, at some future day, to lead
the armies of the United States. Others, who do not
deny the desirableness of such an education, object to
confining every post beyond the ranks in the army to

THE WESTERN WORLD. 209

the cadets of the military academy. A private in the
British army may rise to be a field officer, but not so
in America. The private in the latter may be better
paid than in the former, but his prospect is by no
means so brilliant. There is not an office in the
State, but is open to the obscurest individual, if
he can beat his multitudinous competitors in the race
for it. The army is not so democratically constituted.
Its more desirable posts, its dignities and honours, are
almost exclusively confined to a few, who have suffi
cient influence to get admittance to an institution,
where they undergo a probationary curriculum. This
is enough to discourage many a man from entering
the army as a private, who might otherwise do so.
If it is the policy of the American government to
check the military spirit, this certainly tends to the
accomplishment of its object.

Republics are accused of being prone to war. This
may be partly accounted for by the citizen of a re
public feeling that he participates more in the glory
and honour of his country, than the subject of a
monarchy, as well as feeling himself more directly in
volved in her quarrels. When the government is of his
own creation, the position of his government in regard
to a foreign power he feels to be his own. It is other
wise in a purely monarchical State, where the govern
ment is independent of, and has separate interests
from those of the people. The attitude assumed by
their respective courts is not necessarily that of one
people towards another. The government of Russia
and Austria may be at loggerheads with each other,
and yet no enmity exist between the people of the
two empires, except such as is created by law. But
in a republic each citizen espouses the quarrel of his

210 THE WESTEIIN WOULD.

government^ as his own ; and is but too ready fre
quently to sustain it in any project of aggression
which promises to bring an accession of territory,
honour, or glory to his country, and by consequence,
partly to himself.

The Americans have been regarded as forming no
exception, in this respect, to the general rule. But
the military propensities of the American people
have been very much exaggerated. They are far
more ready to assume a belligerent attitude in their
national, than they are to fight in their individual
capacity. There is no one more ready to follow up
at all hazards the fortunes of his country, or who
more warmly or readily espouses his country's quar
rels, than the American. He is ready to risk the
chances of war, if necessary, to vindicate her honour,
or to secure her a tempting prize at which she has any
pretext for grasping. But all this ardour and enthu
siasm resolve themselves, as a general rule, more into
a willingness to submit to the national, drawbacks of
a state of hostility, and to give up his means and
substance to maintain the war, than to subject him
self personally to the privations of a campaign. How
could it be otherwise in a country circumstanced as
America is ? Where employment is sure and wages
high, men are not very willing to subject themselves
to the hardships and rigid discipline of a soldier's
life. The volunteers who flocked to the Mexican war
were lured into the field more by the hope of realising
rich prizes at the enemy's expense, than from any very
great love of military adventure. At first a general
enthusiasm pervaded all ranks, and it really seemed
as if all were ready to buckle on their armour. But
this soon subsided, and by-and-by the war grew stale.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 211

The volunteers who did come forward, were either
restless spirits from the West, to whom an adven
ture is a godsend, or the mere offscourings of the
sea-board cities. A very large proportion of them
were foreigners. Add to this that the great bulk of
the American army is composed not of natives but of
foreigners. The same may be said of those manning
the navy. The life of an American soldier is by no
means a pleasant one, considering the unhealthiness
of some of their military posts, and the remoteness
of many of them from the haunts of civilized man .
It is not likely, therefore, that men who can easily
make more than a competence at the plough or at
their trades, will suffer a military propensity so far
to get the better of them as to impel them to enlist.
But it may be urged that there is a great deal of
sound and fury in the United States, which must
surely signify something in the way of the populace
being disposed to military life. It signifies very
little in this way. When a dispute arises between
them and another people, the Americans assume a
very bellicose language, and generally, in such cases
mean what they say. But this, as already intimated,
does not indicate a readiness on their parts personally
to take the field, draw the sword, or carry the musket.
It merely testifies their readiness to run the risks of
war as a people, to incur its expense and abide its
issues. But, again, it may be said that the number
of independent volunteer companies which are found
in every part of the Union, proves that the people
are, individually, prone to military life. There is
a great difference, however, between " playing at
soldiers " and being soldiers in earnest. To enrol
themselves into a company called by some very

212 THE WESTERN WOULD

sounding name ; to wear fine clothes, and have bril
liant plumes waving over their heads; to inarch,
every now and then, in military array, the wonder of
a crowd of gaping boys, and the admiration of the
young ladies who present them with banners ; to
undergo occasionally a review, and to engage, to
the terror of old women, in platoon firing, with
blank cartridge, in the streets, — is a pastime perhaps
harmless after all, for young men who have a
little time upon their hands, a little spare cash in
their pockets, and few other sources of amusement at
command. But all this is no proof that these valiant
men-at-arms, who generally wind up an afternoon's
marching and countermarching with a good supper
or a ball, are ready to go to the cannon's mouth, or
to abandon their peaceful pursuits for the privations
of an actual campaign. This holiday soldiering is
only, after all, but a kind of mature child's play. Let
me not be understood to mean that the Americans
are deficient in personal courage. Should their
country be invaded, none would be found more
ready to turn out and defend their altars and their
hearths. But so long as they are in comfortable cir
cumstances at home, they will not be emulous to
take the field, unless some strong exciting cause, like
an invasion of their territory, impel them so to do.
Nor let the love of some of them for now and then
attiring themselves in military habiliments argue
anything to the contrary.

The portion of the population exhibiting to the
greatest extent the martial propensity, is that domi
ciled in the north-west. There are many restless
spirits residing to the north and north-west of the
Ohio, so fond of adventure, that they will, in most

THE WESTERN WORLD. 213

cases, undergo any personal risks in pursuit of it.
When, in addition to this innate love of adventure for
its own sake, a great prize is presented to them, the
securing of which will enure to their individual ad
vantage and to the glorification of the Union, they
are ready to leave home and friends to grasp at it.
But by-and-by, when this part of the country is
more advanced, and property in it becomes more
valuable, rendering a permanent settlement in it, a
thing once obtained not to be lightly thrown away,
this restlessness will greatly disappear, and the
people sober down to the tone of the great bulk of
their countrymen. Besides, there is this also to
account for the West being more reckless of war than
the other sections of the country, that unless the
people there chose to subject themselves to them,
they would be the last to feel its privations. The
Union is vulnerable on three sides, but the valley of
the Mississippi would be secure from the horrors of
war, should it arise.

Until within a few years back the United States
army did not exceed 8,000 men. It was found,
however, that as the Republic extended its boundaries
and multiplied its military posts in the remote wil
dernesses which circumscribe it on the west and
north-west, this number did not suffice to garrison
and keep in repair the more important military sta
tions, scattered at long intervals along its extensive
frontier. The standing army was therefore increased
about seven years ago to 12,000 men, at which point
it remained till the breaking out of the Mexican
war. It was then necessarily increased, but for the
year 1848, which witnessed the successful close of
the war, it did not exceed 25,000 men. Of the

214 THE WESTERN WORLD.

American forces which took part in the Mexican
campaigns, the volunteers formed a large and im
portant ingredient.

The American navy in 1848 was on an equally
limited scale, although the war lasted till about the
middle of that year. The total number of vessels of
all kinds connected with it in November last amounted
to eighty- seven ; of which eleven were ships of the
line, fourteen were frigates, twenty-two were sloops
of war, ten were schooners, and fourteen were
steamers. The war did not occasion a similar increase
in the navy to that called for in the army, inasmuch
as the Mexicans had no navy to cope with ; at the
same time that, to their honour, they refrained from
issuing letters of marque. This naval force suffices
for the protection of American commerce, which, if
not as yet absolutely as large as our own, spreads, in
its multiform operations, over an equally extensive
surface.

There are, undoubtedly, interests at work in the
United States which would benefit, as in this
country, by the indefinite extension of the military
establishments. But mighty armaments, particularly
in the form of land forces, would be incompatible
with the objects and inimical to the very genius of
the American constitution. The government was
conceived in the spirit of peace, and framed more
with a view to aid and encourage the development of
the peaceful arts, than to promote a martial spirit in
the people, or to throw the destinies of the country
into a military channel. Not only do the views,
sentiments, and occupations of the American people
indispose them to any great permanent increase of
the military establishments, but there are, as I found,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 215

conflicting elements at work in different sections of
the Confederacy, which would of themselves suffice
to confine them to moderate limits. Whilst it is
the object of the sea-board States, in which the
chief commercial and shipping interests of the Union
are centred, to increase the navy, the West is
averse to its extension, having no direct interests to
subserve by its increase. The West, on the other
hand, would have no great objection to some increase
in the army, but the sea-board States, having little or
nothing to gain from such a step, are averse to its
being taken. Thus, between their conflicting views
and wishes, the establishments, except in cases of
extraordinary emergency, are not likely to receive
any very great accession of strength. This at all
events may be said, that no accession will be made to
either of them until a clear case of necessity for it is
made out. The average annual cost of the United
States navy for the last ten years has not exceeded
1,295,000/. The average annual cost of the army
for the same period has been about 2,500,000/., but
this includes not only the extraordinary military ex
penditure occasioned for some years by the Serninole
war, but also a portion of that called for during the
first year of the Mexican war. Making due allow
ance for this extraordinary expenditure, the average
cost per annum of the army will not exceed
1,500,000/. Taking the two services together, their
average cost per year is thus shown to be about
2,795,000/. ; about one-sixth of the sum which we
are now called upon to pay for our armaments.

It may be urged that the great reason why the
American establishments are kept at so low a point
is, that the military exigencies of the country are not

216 THE WESTERN WORLD.

so great as they formerly were. It is quite true
that, as the Republic has extended itself, its military
boundary, in the strict sense of the term, instead of
increasing, has diminished. At the peace of 1783 it
was enclosed on three sides by the dependencies of
foreign powers. The British provinces overhung it
on the north, the vast French possession of Louisiana
spread along its entire western boundary, and the
colonies of Spain underlay it, as it were, on the south.
Since that time it has acquired Louisiana from
France and the Floridas from Spain, and has re
cently pushed its boundaries westward to the Pacific.
Its land boundaries are now confined to the line
separating it from the British possessions on the
north, and that which divides it from what now re
mains of Mexico, to the south. But with the dimi
nution of its land boundary its sea coast has greatly
increased. At the peace its only sea-board was on
the Atlantic, stretching from the Bay of Fundy to
the mouth of the St. Mary's, which separated it from
Florida. It afterwards crept round the immense
peninsula of that name, and along the northern shore
of the Gulf of Mexico, beyond the mouths of the
Appalachicola, the Alabama, and the Mississippi, to
that of the Sabine. Thence it proceeded westward
to the Nueces, and lastly to the Rio Grande itself,
the left bank of which now forms its south-western
boundary. It thus gradually possessed itself of the
Atlantic and Gulf shores of Florida, the whole north
coast, and the north-western angle of the Gulf. In
addition to this, it has lately acquired an immense
stretch of sea-board, from the Straits of Fuca, the
northern point of American Oregon, to the southern
limit of Upper California. But with this immense

THE WESTERN WORLD. 217

accession of sea coast the American navy has shown no
greater tendency to extension than has the army. In
deed, the chief extension which has taken place has
been in connexion with the latter, for although the
land line has diminished as that of the sea-board has in
creased, civilisation in its rapid spread westward has
required, for its protection against the Indians, that
a more efficient military cordon should be kept in
advance of it, than was necessary when it was con
fined to the eastward of the Mississippi.

It is not easy to estimate the effect which these
enormous accessions of sea-board are calculated to
have upon the naval resources of America. This
much, however, may be safely taken for granted,
that the increase with which they have been attended,
to the naval strength of the country, has not been
commensurate with their own extent. As compared
with the American line of coast, the British American
available sea-board is small. But its importance in a
naval point of view is as it were in the inverse ratio
of its extent. Both on the Atlantic and the Pacific
the British flag yet waves over the most important
harbours in a military point of view, and over the
most commanding line of sea-board. The British
available sea-board on both sides of the continent is
not, in extent, more than one-fourth the whole sea-
coast of the Union, yet the possession of it would at
once treble the naval strength of the Union. Not
only are Bermuda, Halifax, and the mouth of the
St. Lawrence military stations of the highest im
portance, but the possession of our North American
provinces would put the finest fisheries in the world
into the hands of our rivals.

In perusing these paragraphs the reader cannot fail

VOL. HI. L

218 THE WESTERN WORLD.

to be struck with the contrast which they present be
tween our own military establishments and those of
the United States. It may very truly be urged, that
the military exigencies of Europe are not to be mea
sured by those of America. But although there is,
in this respect, a great difference between America
and a continental State, the difference is not so great
between the United States and Great Britain. Thanks
to their isolation from Europe, the Americans are
under no necessity to keep large and expensive mili
tary establishments on foot. But are not we also
isolated from Europe ? We are nearer it, it is true,
but our isolation from it is as complete as is that of
the United States. The immense advantage which
this gave us, we have not only trifled with, but
thrown away. Since the " balance of power " came
to be a leading and favourite notion with Euro
pean diplomatists, we have needlessly mixed our
selves up with every great and every petty squabble
that has happened on the continent. The result has
been as unfavourable to us as if the channel had
been dried up, and we had been long ago geogra
phically annexed to the continent. "We have un
necessarily worked ourselves into a position which
we might easily have avoided, and from which, it
must be confessed, it is not now easy to recede, even
were we unanimous as to the propriety of so doing.
But instead of lessening our difficulties in this re
spect, and taking all the economic advantages of our
position which it is calculated to confer upon us, we
are involving ourselves every year more and more
in the vortex of continental politics, and are conse
quently called upon to increase rather than to
diminish our armaments. With Sicily and Lorn-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 219

Lardy, Rome and the " two duchies " to take care of,
to say nothing of our quarrel with Spain, and our
recent interference with the Portuguese, the prospect
before us is not very encouraging. We have two
courses to pursue, either to go on systematically in
termeddling with affairs in which we are not neces
sarily concerned, until we concern ourselves with
them, thus subjecting ourselves to the military neces
sities of a continental State ; or to relapse as it were
into ourselves, devote our attention as exclusively as
possible to our home and colonial affairs, take advan
tage of our defensive position, conform our military
establishments to the measure of our strict wants, and
curtail our extravagance. It is not necessarily Eng
land's mission to undertake the quixotic enterprise of
keeping the world right. In attempting it heretofore,
if she has not received many cuffs and bruises, she
has at least had to submit to enormous abstractions of
her treasure. Let her keep herself right, and in the
industrious, peaceable attitude which she will then
assume, she will do far more towards tranquillising
the continent, than by vexatiously interfering in every
political movement that occurs.

But the most plausible excuse offered for the great
ness of our military establishments is the vast extent
of our colonial dominions. As to how far every one
of the forty colonies or so which we possess is of use
to us, is a question into which I have here no inten
tion of entering. It may be said, however, in pass
ing, that some of the finest of them are comparatively
useless to us, simply because the colonial department
either cannot or will not turn them to profitable ac
count. The only point with which we have here to deal
is, whether the excuse alluded to is a valid one or not.
L 2

220 THE WESTERN WORLD.

If we are to have colonies, nobody can reasonably
grudge whatever is necessary for their protection.
But the question is, what is necessary for this pur
pose ? It would seem that, in the estimation of one
class at least in this country, a department cannot be
efficient unless it is extravagant, although daily ex
perience teaches the contrary, some of our most
extravagant being amongst our least efficient depart
ments. The colonial department has, within the last
seventy years, undergone in this respect a modifica
tion for the worse. Previously to the American war,
without leaving the colonies unnecessarily exposed,
we taught them the useful lesson of self-reliance.
The consequence was that, until we attempted to
avert, in 1776, an irresistible event, some of the
noblest colonies that we ever possessed cost us but
little either to govern or to defend them. Nor were
these colonies wanting in formidable enemies, against
whom they had to be on their guard. They had at
first the fierce and cunning Indian to cope with, and
were afterwards hemmed in on three sides by France
and Spain, who had the Indians frequently in league
with them. Against all these they, in the main, de
fended themselves, sometimes coping single-handed
with their enemies, and at others forming leagues, the
germs of the future Union, for their common de
fence. Having thus to bear the brunt of the fight,
and the chief expenses of the war when it arose, they
were chary of getting into quarrels with their neigh
bours, their interests being identified with peace. But
this policy, at once so useful to the colonies and con
venient to the mother country, was afterwards aban
doned, and another inaugurated in its stead, the
practical operation of which is to keep the colonies

THE WESTERN WORLD. 221

as much and as long as possible in leading-strings,
and the tendency if not the object of which is to
destroy in them every principle of self-reliance. We
teach them that almost everything will be done for
them by us, and at our expense. We will*" govern
them at our expense, and if they get into quarrels
we will work them out of them at our expense. The
consequence is, that governing them at our expense
gives us a pretext for vexatiously interfering in the
conduct of their local government ; whilst, by pro
tecting them at our expense, we make it their in
terest, in many cases, to get, into quarrels with their
neighbours instead of remaining at peace with them.
One can understand how it would subserve the inter
ests of Cape Town that the colony of the Cape should
be at war with the Kaffirs for the next half century,
so long as British regiments were sent there to spend
British money in the colony, and the commissariat was
supplied at the expense of the mother country. If
we want to hear little of Kaffir wars, let us put the
Cape colony on the footing that was formerly occu
pied by our dependencies in North America.

Besides, if it is simply for their protection that we
keep such large armaments in and about our colonies,
how comes it that the more populous th'ey are, the
stronger they become, and consequently the more
competent to protect themselves, the more troops do
we pour into them ? Is not this of itself the most
damning commentary that can be offered on the spirit
in which our whole colonial system is conceived ?
The truth is, that we send additional troops to them,
in order to enable us, as they wax stronger, to con
tinue the vexatious interference in their local affairs,
in which we so unwisely persevere.

222 THE WESTERN WORLD.

Our peace establishment in Canada amounts to
about 6,000 men. We have, in addition to this, a
large naval force on the lakes, and of course an ex
pensive commissariat for the supply of both services.
Wherefore, at present, all this display in Canada ?
By what foe is it menaced ? It has no Indian enemy
against which now to protect itself. Do we appre
hend an attack upon it from the side of the United
States ? Such cannot be effected in a night, and wars
are not now declared in a day. If the Americans
meditated an attack, they would have to arm for the
purpose, for there is but a small portion of their
regular army on the Canadian frontier. Their militia
system is universal, but it is confessedly inefficient.
Whilst they were arming, what would prevent Canada
from arming likewise ? The Canadians are more of
a military people than the Americans, and in Upper
Canada particularly there are elements out of which
a strong military force could be more speedily evoked
than out of those existing on the American side of
the line. Besides, when the Americans were arming,
what would prevent us from sending troops to the
scene of danger? They would get there quite as
soon as a force could be raised in New York. If we
have 6,000 men there now for the defence of Canada,
we have more than we require. If they are there to
keep the Canadians down, we have less than we
require ; for such are the means of passive resistance
at their disposal, that, in case of a general insurrec
tion, 60,000 would not suffice to suppress it. For
which purpose are they there ? If for the one, the
means are inadequate to the end ; if for the other,
the end is as questionable as the means are in
sufficient.

CHAPTER VIII.

EDUCATION AND LITERATURE IN THE UNITED STATES.

Journey from West Point, by New York, to New Haven. — Yale Col
lege. — Education in the United States. — Principles at the foun
dation of the Political System of America. — Difference between
these and the fundamental Elements of Government as propounded
by M. Guizot. — Education in America promoted independently of
the Church. — Educational Systems of England and America com
pared. — Different Schemes in the different States. — Education in
New England. — System in Connecticut. — System in New York. —
Private Seminaries. — Sectarian Establishments. — Kesults of Edu
cation in America. — Literature of America. — Encouragement of
Literature by the American Government. — The Newspaper Press
in America. — Price of Newspapers in England and America.

THE tourist may spend a very pleasant day or two,
rambling over West Point and its neighbourhood. I
left on the morning after my arrival at it, and in
half an hour after quitting the wharf, having emerged
from the highlands, found myself on the noble estuary
of the Hudson, already alluded to as the Tappan
Zee. New York was still forty mile^ distant ; but
from the lofty paddle-box I could discern the smoke
of the city sullying the horizon to the south. The
clay was bright and clear; every object on either
shore, notwithstanding the great width of the river at
this point, being visible to us. On our left we passed
Sing Sing, the other State Prison, or Penitentiary, of
New York, and the mouth of the Croton, a portion of
whose limpid waters, as has been shown, are diverted
for the supply of the city. We soon had the " Pali
sades " on our right, the New Jersey coast of the river

224 THE WESTERN WORLD.

being here lofty, bold, and precipitous; masses of
rock, apparently of basaltic formation, overhanging
the water in columnar grandeur. The New Jersey
coast on the west continues nearly up to the highlands,
whence, upwards, the river is exclusively within the
limits of New York. The portion of that State which
continues along its eastern side down to the city, is a
perfect contrast to the bold, rocky bank opposite.
The New York bank is lofty, but it rises gently, with
undulations, from the margin of the stream. The
great extent of surface which it thus exposes is beau
tifully cultivated, and dotted with mansions and farm
houses.

Once more in New York, which presents the same
busy and stirring picture of impetuous life as before.
Having already, however, sufficiently described the
city, I shall not delay the reader with any notice of
my second visit. I prefer, and so, no doubt, will he,
that we should sail together up the Sound to New
Haven, in the State of Connecticut.

The site of this town is very picturesque. Although
not very populous, it presents, from the water, the
appearance of a large city, from the great length to
which it extends along the shore of the open bay,
entering from the Sound, on which it is situated. As
a place of residence there are few spots more inviting
than New Haven. It looked to me like a town
spending the summer months in the country. It is
scattered over a great surface, the streets being broad
and spacious, and deeply shaded by rows of the most
stately elms. But that which gives to New Haven
its chief interest is its being the seat of the principal
University in the United States. Yale College was
founded at the commencement of the eighteenth cen-

THE WESTERN WOBLD. 225

tury, but was not removed to New Haven until
seventeen years after its foundation, where it has
since been permanently retained.

There is much in the general polity of America
to strike the stranger with surprise, but nothing
more calculated to excite his admiration, than the
earnestness with which education is there universally
promoted by the State, as a matter in which the
State has the most deep and lasting interest. The
American government is one which shrinks not from
investigation, but covets the intelligent scrutiny of
all who are subjected to it. It is founded neither
on force nor fraud, and seeks not, therefore, to ally
itself with ignorance. Based upon the principle of
right and justice, it seeks to league itself with intel
ligence and virtue. Its roots lie deep in the popular
will, and in the popular sympathies is the chief source
of its strength. It is its great object, therefore, to
have that will controlled and those sympathies regu
lated by an enlightened judgment. It thus calls
education to its aid, instead of treating it as its foe.

Let those, who will, deny that the tendencies of
human nature are to good, this is the broad principle
upon which the American system of government
rests. There is a great difference between believing
in the better impulses of our common nature, and
cherishing an " idolatrous enthusiasm" for humanity.
The founders of the American system kept the
brighter side of human nature in view when they
organized their polity, instead of acting chiefly with
a view to its darker traits. They did not lose sight
of the propensity to evil, which so universally finds
a place in the divided heart of man, but they framed
their system more with a view to the encouragement

L3

226 THE WESTERN WORLD.

of virtue than the repression of vice. They had no
blind faith in the supremacy of good over evil in the
moral nature of man, but they acted throughout upon
the conviction that man's social and political condi
tion had much to do, although not every thing, with
the development of his moral character. The ten
dency to good may be cherished, the propensity to
evil checked, by the position which a man is made
to occupy with regard to his fellows. A man's moral
nature is not only evidenced, but also greatly influ
enced by his acts. Place him in a position in which
the temptations to evil are more potent than the
stimulants to good, and if he give way, his consequent
familiarity with evil acts increases the propensity to
them. But surround him with better influences,
and every time he yields to them he strengthens the
higher impulses of his nature. A man's conduct is
thus not only the result of his moral character, but it
also, to some extent, influences it. And what chiefly
influences his conduct ? The circumstances in which
he is placed. The great object of philanthropy and
of sound policy in the government of mankind should
therefore be to mould these circumstances so as to
stimulate to good, instead of being provocative to evil.
This was the great object after which the noble race
of men, who framed the American Constitution,
honestly and earnestly strained. They repudiated a
system founded upon the principles of suspicion and
resistance, and adopted one based upon those of
confidence and encouragement. Faith in, not idolatry
of, human nature was thus at the very foundation of
the edifice which they reared ; and they took care, in
arranging the superstructure, that that in which they
trusted, the tendency to good — which, however it may

THE WESTERN WORLD. 227

be sometimes smothered in the individual, can never
be obliterated from the heart of man — should have
every opportunity given it of justifying their con
fidence. The sympathies of ignorance are more with
the evil than with the better principle of our com
posite natures ; and they made it a primary object
of their policy to assail ignorance, in every form
in which it presented itself. The sympathies of
intelligence, on the other hand, are more with
virtue than vice ; and the universal promotion of
education was made one of the main features of their
governmental system. They thus regarded education
in its true light, not merely as something which
should not be neglected, but as an indispensable co
adjutor in the work of consolidating and promoting
their scheme. They had not only cause to further
education, but they had every reason to dread igno
rance. They have so still, and the institutions of
America will only be permanently consolidated, when
intelligence, in a high stage of development, is homo
geneous to the Union. The American government,
founded upon the principle of mutual confidence,
thus wisely takes care that education shall be pro
moted, as one of the essential conditions to the realisa
tion of its hopes. Its success is thus identified with
human elevation — it can only be defeated by the
degradation of humanity.

How different is a system thus conceived from that
propounded by statesmen, who preach, as the funda
mental element of good government, a distrust of the
moral attributes of man ! They admit that he has
some good in him, but insist that he should be
treated, both socially and politically, on the supposi
tion that the propensity to evil was the only charac-

228 THE WESTERN WORLD.

teristic of his nature. Whether it be originally his
chief characteristic or not, there is no doubt but that
it may be artificially made so, and systems of govern
ment founded on deception, hypocrisy, and selfishness,
can never be made the means of purifying the heart,
elevating the sentiments, or exalting the intellect of
mankind. Thoroughly to improve a people, you
must, as in the case of an individual, appeal to their
generous sentiments. But a government turns its
back upon these, which shows, in the very principle
of its being, and in its every act, that it deals with the
people on the footing of distrust. It is not by the
repressive system that vice can be most effectually
eradicated. It is by promoting the antagonist princi
ple of virtue that the greatest victory is to be achieved
over it. Systems chiefly, if not exclusively, framed
for the suppression of vice, are not the best calculated
for the promotion of virtue.

Again, systems prominently embodying the principle
of resistance, provoke resistance. The result is a
chronic antagonism between the government and the
governed, whereas harmony between the two is at once
the essence and the symbol of good government. The
principle of resistance has been tried and found want
ing. Men cannot be permanently governed through
force and fear. They may be so through the affections,
and this without idolizing humanity. Force and fear
have failed ; and those who relied upon them blame
humanity for their failure. May it not be that
it is a very hopeful feature in humanity that they
have not succeeded ? Resistance is still preached
as the fundamental element of good government, by
one who affords in his own person the most memorable
modern example of the utter fallacy of such a prin-

THE WESTERN WOKLD. 229

ciple. It was only in 1830, whilst a spectator of the
revolution of that year, that M. Guizot really learnt
what were the essential elements of human society,
and the indispensable prerequisites to safe and effi
cient government, After having imbibed this great
lesson, he was for eleven years a minister. How
much he profited by it, the events of February can
attest. These events are the best illustration, both
of the soundness of his judgment and the correctness
of his system. Either he read the human heart aright
in 1830, and afterwards governed his fellow-subjects
on wrong principles, or he was egregiously at fault
both in reading and governing them. But it was
not king Louis Philippe's system, which received its
chief manifestation during the seven years for which
M. Guizot was virtually the head of the Cabinet,
that was faulty, it was the vile human heart. There
was nothing incompatible with the dignity and stability
of a government in the broken faith pledged at Eu;
in the despicable intrigue of the Spanish marriages ;
in the double dealing with the Sonderbund ; in the
coquetting with Colletti; in the evident leaning to
the principle of despotism, typified by the rupture
with England, and the growing alliance with the
absolutist powers; or in the unequivocal determination
to check the progress of rational liberty in France,
and to suppress every noble aspiration in which she
indulged. These are the leading features of the
Guizot administration. Were they such as to re
commend it to an ardent people, who worshipped at
least the semblance of freedom, if they did not rightly
appreciate its meaning ? Let this be its commentary.
On the 22d of February, the minister was in the
plenitude of his power, the dynasty in possession of

230 THE WESTERN WORLD.

France. A few days afterwards, and Lamartine was in
the H6tel de Ville, Louis Philippe at Claremont, and
M. Guizot once more at Ghent. But it was the
vile human heart that did it all. France was both
insensible and ungrateful. So insinuates the fallen
minister now.

The reader will pardon this digression. But, in
considering the principles which lie at the foundation
of the American system, I could not avoid contrasting
them with certain views as to the proper elements of
good government, which have recently emanated from
a distinguished source.

I have already intimated that the American govern
ment, instead of seeking to fortify itself in popular
ignorance, and to make society virtuous by simply
resisting the propensity to evil, is framed with a view
to strengthen and encourage the tendencies to good
— the possession of which, to some extent, even his
greatest detractors cannot deny to man — and allies
itself with education as its most potent coadjutor in
the work. It has already been seen that the general
government is but a part of what is understood by
the political system of America ; and that the State
governments form its main, if not its most interesting
feature. In speaking of the close alliance formed
between the American system and general education,
let me be understood to refer to the system in its
local, not its federal manifestation. The education
of the people is not one of the subjects, the control
over which has been conceded to the general govern
ment. There were two reasons why the different
States reserved its management to themselves. The
first was the difficulty of procuring a general fund for
its support, without investing the general government

THE WESTERN WORLD. 231

with some power of local taxation, a course which
would have been at war with some of the fundamental
axioms of the whole system. The other was the
impossibility of devising a general plan of education
for a people, whose political being was characterised
by so many diversities of circumstances, and who
differed so essentially from each other in some of
their institutions. The States, therefore, prudently
reserved the management of the whole subject to
themselves. The cause of education has not lost by
this ; the States, particularly those in the north, run
ning with each other a race of generous emulation in
their separate efforts to promote it.

In a country in which the Church has been wholly
divorced from the State, it was to be expected that
education would be divested of the pernicious tram
mels of sectarian influence. The Americans have
drawn a proper distinction between secular and
religious instruction, confining the Church to its
own duties, and leaving the schools free in the exe
cution of theirs. They have not fallen into the
ridiculous error of supposing that education is
" Godless," when it does not embrace theology.
Education has both its secular and its religious ele
ments. As men cannot agree as to the latter, let not
the former, on which they are agreed, be prevented
from expanding by unnecessarily combining them.
Cannot a mathematical axiom be taught, without
incorporating with it a theological dogma ? Is it
necessary, in order to rescue this branch of education
from the charge of godlessness, that a child should be
taught that it is with God's blessing that the three
angles of a triangle are together equal to two right
angles ; or that two and two, Deo volente, make four,

232 THE WESTERN WORLD.

otherwise they might have made five ? Suppose, then,
that we had schools for teaching arithmetic and ma
thematics alone, would any sane man charge them
with heing godless because they confined themselves
to the teaching of such simple truths as that two and
two make four, and that the three angles of a triangle
are together equal to two right angles ? And what
holds good of a branch of secular education, holds
good of it in its entirety. If mathematics can be
taught without theology, so can reading and writing,
grammar and geography ; in short, every department
of secular learning. This is the view which the
Americans have generally taken of the subject, and
they have shaped their course accordingly. They
have left religion to fortify itself exclusively in the
heart of man, whilst they have treated secular edu
cation as a matter which essentially concerned the
State. Either the Church is fit for the performance
of its own duties, or it is not. If it is not, it is high
time that it were remodelled ; if it is, there is no
reason why it should call upon the school to under
take a part of its work. The school might, with the
same propriety, call upon the Church to aid it in the
work of secular instruction. They will both best
acquit themselves of their responsibilities, when they
are confined exclusively to their own spheres. In
America they are so, and with the happiest results.
The children of all denominations meet peaceably
together, to learn the elements of a good ordinary
education. Nobody dreams of their being rendered
godless by the process. Their parents feel assured
that, for their religious education, they can entrust
them to the Church and the Sunday-school.

The importance which the American people attach

THE WESTERN WORLD. 233

to the subject of general education, is indicated by
the prominent position which they assign it, amongst
those matters which peculiarly claim the attention and
supervision of the State. As is the case in some of
the States of the continent, in most, if not in all, of
the States of the American Union, the superintend
ence of education is made a separate and distinct
department of State. He who presides over this
department may not be permitted to appropriate to
himself so high-sounding a title as Minister of Public
Instruction; but nevertheless, within his own State,
he is such minister. We manage things differently.
We have no separate department for the supervision
of this all-important subject. We have the Home
department, whose chief business it is to war with
vice, and to preserve the public peace against those
who would be disposed to break it. This is very
necessary to the existence of society. But there is
no department to carry on the war with ignorance,
and to dispose to virtue by enlightening the mind.
This noble object is almost exclusively entrusted to
a Committee of Privy Council, who delegate their
duties to a single individual, who, however respon
sible he may be to his employers, is not directly
responsible to parliament. It is quite possible that
this committee may answer all the purposes of a sepa
rate department, but it is not probable that it does
so. The spirit in which all our national schemes for
the education of the people are conceived, is evident
from the very nature of the superintendence to which
they are subjected. Education is regarded by our
rulers as a subsidiary matter, or its charge would not
be committed to a species of irresponsible committee.
This neglect of or apparent contempt for, education,
on the part of the government, has a pernicious effect

234 THE WESTERN WORLD.

upon multitudes in the country, who only permit
those things to rank high in their estimation which
are treated by government with dignity and respect.
Let the government once elevate education to its
right position, as one of the primary objects of State
solicitude, and let its supervision be entrusted to
parties directly responsible to parliament, and num
bers without, who are now indifferent to the sub
ject, would zealously co-operate in its promotion.
Let this be done — let the superintendence of educa
tion be organized into a distinct department of the
government, and we should not much longer have to
blush at the scandal of the yearly expense of educa
tion in this great country turning up as a paltry item
in the miscellaneous estimates.

Nothing can better serve to illustrate the difference
of spirit, in which our educational system and that of
America are conceived than the yearly outlay by the
State in both cases, in the way of its promotion, as
compared with other items of national expenditure.
We pay nearly nine millions a-year for the support
of one only of our military establishments, and about
130,000£ for popular education ; whereas, the largest
item in the annual expenditure of several of the
States of the Union, such as Connecticut and Rhode
Island, is for the promotion of the education of the
people.

The States of the Union differ not only in the form
of their educational schemes, but likewise in the
extent to which they have pushed them. It is in the
northern States that the noblest efforts have been
made for the spread of popular instruction. In the
slave-holding States such schemes as have been
adopted, have been rendered applicable only to the
white population. But with this solitary exception

THE WESTERN WORLD. 235

there is not a State in the Union that has not done
something, and most of them a very great deal, for
the promotion of popular education. It would not
be advisable here to enter into the details of their
different schemes, but those of one or two States
may be briefly glanced at by way of illustration.

All the New England States have done much in
this behalf. That which has been effected by Con
necticut, will show the spirit in which the great work
has been taken up by the Americans in their political
capacity.

The population of this State does not exceed that
of the city of Glasgow. It has a permanent school-
fund, amounting to about two millions of dollars, or
416,666/. sterling. This yields an annual revenue of
about 120,000 dollars, or about 25,0001. sterling. The
fund, I understand, has lately increased, the revenue
which it yields being now about 26,000/, The State
is divided into upwards of 1,660 school districts, in all
of which schools are in operation. In 1847, upwards
of 80,000 children were instructed in all the elements
of a good ordinary education at these schools ; the rate
per child, at which they were taught for a year, being
1 dollar and 45 cents, or about 6s. sterling. In addi
tion to this, there are in the State several colleges,
and upwards of ISO academies and grammar-schools,
the State confining its operations to the bringing
home to every citizen a good elementary education.
And it is only when the State as a State undertakes
the work, that it can be done in the effectual manner
in which it has been achieved in Connecticut. Our
annual State expenditure on education is a little over
100,0001. Were our expenditure in this respect on
the same scale, in proportion to our population, as
that of Connecticut, instead of 100,000/. it would be

236 THE WESTERN WORLD.

2,288,000£., or nearly twenty times as great as it is.
But, as regards the provision which she has thus
made for education, Connecticut stands preeminent
even in America.

The State of New York has also set a noble
example, in this respect, to the other communities of
the world. The population of this State is under three
millions. It is divided for the purposes of education
into school districts, which constitute the lowest
municipal subdivisions of the State. The number of
these districts is 10,893! In 1843 schools were open
in no less than 10,645 of these. The number of
children from five to sixteen years old in these dis
tricts was 601,766. Of these no less than 571,130
were attending school. Upwards of half a million of
dollars was, that year, paid to teachers by the State.
The whole amount paid by the State for education in
1846 was 456,970 dollars, or 95,202£ sterling ; and
this for the education of between two millions and a
half and three millions of people. If we spent at the
same rate for the same purpose, our yearly expen
diture for education would be 1,142,424£, or very
nearly ten times as great as it is. It is quite true
that enormous sums are voluntarily appropriated in
this country to the purposes of education. But it
would be erroneous to suppose that this is not also
the case in America, where such large sums are annu
ally expended upon education by the State. In addi
tion to the common schools, of which all who choose
may avail themselves, and in which a sound elementary
education alone is taught, there are in New York
nearly 600 academies and grammar-schools, which do
not enter into the State system at all, and at which
the higher branches of education are taught. New
York also abounds in seminaries of the highest grade,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 237

chief amongst which are Columbia College and New
York University, both in the city of New York, and
Union College in the city of Schenectady.

Let it not be supposed that because the common
and primary schools have been rescued from sectarian
influence, the different sects in the country have no
educational institutions of their own. They have none
designed to supersede the primary schools, such as they
possess being institutions to which youth resort only
when they leave these schools. Although not all,
most of the colleges in America are of this description.
Of 109 colleges in the United States, 10 are institu
tions belonging to the Baptists, 7 are Episcopalian, 13
are Methodist, and several Catholic. The great bulk
of them seem to be divided between the Congrega-
tionalists and Presbyterians, the former possessing
most of those which are in New England, and the
latter the majority of such as are scattered throughout
the rest of the country. There are also 35 theological
schools in the country, of which 6 are Congregation-
alist, 11 Presbyterian, 3 Episcopal, and 5 Baptist.
Law and medical schools are likewise numerous
throughout the Union.

The number and magnitude of the seminaries ex
isting in the State of New York for the education of
young ladies form a striking feature in the educa
tional system of that State, Most of the pupils at
these establishments are boarders, and their education
generally takes a much wider scope than does that of
young ladies in this country. Their scientific acquire
ments are, however, attained at the expense of their
accomplishmen ts.

The results of the general attention to popular
education characteristic of American polity, are as
cheering as they are obvious. It divorces man fro m

238 THE WESTERN WORLD.

the dominion of his mere instincts, in a country, the
institutions of which rely for their maintenance upon
the enlightened judgments of the public. Events may
occur which may catch the multitude in an unthinking
humour, and carry it away with them, or which may
blind the judgment by flattering appeals to the pas
sions of the populace ; but on the great majority of
questions of a social and political import which arise,
every citizen is found to entertain an intelligent
opinion. He may be wrong in his views, but he can
always offer you reasons for them. In this, how
favourably does he contrast with the unreasoning and
ignorant multitudes in other lands ! All Americans
read and write. Such children and adults as are
found incapable of doing either, are emigrants from
some of the less favoured regions of the older hemi
sphere, where popular ignorance is but too frequently
regarded as the best guarantee for the stability of
political systems.

In a country of whose people it may be said that
they all read, it is but natural that we should look
for a national literature. For this we do not look in
vain to America. Like its commerce, its literature is
as yet comparatively young, but like it in its deve
lopment it has been rapid and progressive. There
is scarcely a department of literature in which the
Americans do not now occupy a respectable and pro
minent position. The branch in which they have
least excelled, perhaps, is the drama. In poetry
they have been prolific, notwithstanding the prac
tical nature of their pursuits as a people. A
great deal of what they have produced in this form
is valueless, to say nothing else; but some of their
poets have deservedly a reputation extending far
beyond their country's bounds. Of the novels of

THE WESTERN WORLD. 239

Cooper it is not necessary here to speak. There is
an originality in the production of Pierpoint, and
a vigour in those of Halleck, a truthfulness as well
as force in the verses of Duna, and a soothing influ
ence in the sweet strains of Bryant, which recom
mend them to all speaking or reading the glorious
language in which they are written. In the bright
galaxy of historical authors, no names stand higher
than do those of some of the American historians.
The fame of Prescott has already spread, even be
yond the wide limits of Anglo-Saxon-dom. The
name of Bancroft is as widely and as favourably
known ; his history of the United States, of which
only a portion has as yet appeared, combining the
interest of a romance with fidelity to sober realities.
In biographical literature, and in essays of a sketchy
character, none can excel Washington Irving ; whilst
in descriptive writing, and in detailing " incidents of
travel," Stevens has certainly no superior. Many
medical works of great eminence are from American
pens ; and there is not a good law library in this
country but is indebted for some of its most valuable
treasures to the jurisprudential literature of America.
Prominent amongst the names which English as well
as American lawyers revere, is that of Mr. Justice
Story. Nor have American theologians been idle,
whilst jurists and physicians have been busy with
their pens. Dwight, Edwards, and Barries, are
known elsewhere as well as in America as eminent
controversialists. Nor is the country behind in regard
to science, for not only have many valuable scientific
discoveries been made and problems solved in it, but
many useful works of a scientific character have
appeared, to say nothing of the periodicals which are
conducted in the interest of science. The important

240 THE WESTEEN WORLD.

science of Economy has also been illustrated and
promoted by the works of American economists,
whilst Americans have likewise contributed their share
to the political and philological literature of the
world. The American brain is as active as American
hands are busy. It has already produced a litera
ture far above mediocrity, a literature which will
be greatly extended, diversified, and enriched, as by
the greater spread of wealth the classes who can most
conveniently devote themselves to its pursuit increase.
It is but natural that a government which does so
much for the promotion of education should seek to
make an ally of literature. Literary men in Ame
rica, like literary men in France, have the avenue of
political preferment much more accessible to them
than literary men in England. There is in this
respect, however, this difference between France and
America, that whilst in the former the literary man
is simply left to push his way to place ; in the latter,
he is very often sought for and dragged into it. In
France he must combine the violent partisan with
the literateur ere he realises a position in connexion
with his government. In America the literateur is
frequently converted into the politician, without ever
having been the mere partisan. It was thus that
Pauldtng was placed by President Van Buren at the
head of the navy department, that Washington Irving
was sent as minister to Spain, and Stevens despatched
on a political mission to Central America. It was
chiefly on account of his literary qualities that Mr.
Everett was sent as minister to London, and that
Mr. Bancroft was also sent thither by the cabinet of
Mr. Polk. Like Paulding, this last-mentioned gen
tleman was for some time at the head of a depart
ment in Washington, previously to his undertaking

THE WESTERN WORLD. 241

the embass^y to London. The historian exhibited
administrative capacity, as soon as he was called upon
to exercise it; whilst in this country he has earned for
himself the character of an accomplished diplomatist,
a finished scholar, and a perfect gentleman. But
Mr. Bancroft's future fame will not depend upon his
proved aptitude for administration or diplomacy.
As in Mr. Macaulay's case, so with him, the his
torian will eclipse the politician.

As is the case in this country, the periodical and
newspaper press occupies a very prominent position
in the literature of America. Periodicals, that is to
say, quarterlies, monthlies, and serials of all kinds,
issue from it in abundance ; the reviews and maga
zines being chiefly confined to Boston, Philadelphia,
and New York.

In connexion with American newspapers, the first
tiling that strikes the stranger is their extraordinary
number. They meet him at every turn, of all sizes,
shapes, characters, prices, and appellations. On
board the steamer and on the rail, in the counting-
house and the hotel, in the street and in the private
dwelling, in the crowded thoroughfare and in the
remotest rural district, he is ever sure of finding the
newspaper. There are daily, tri-weekly, bi-weekly,
and weekly papers, as with us ; papers purely poli
tical, others of a literary cast, and others again
simply professional; whilst there are many of no par
ticular character, combining every thing in their co
lumns. The proportion of daily papers is enormous.
Almost every town, down to communities of two
thousand in number, has not only one but several
daily papers. The city of Rochester, for instance,
with a population a little exceeding 30,000, has five ;

VOL. III. M

242 THE WESTERN WORLD.

to say nothing of the bi-weekly and weekly papers
which are issued in it. I was at first, with nothing
but my European experience to guide me, at a loss
to understand how they were all supported. But I
found that, in addition to the extent of their adver
tising patronage, which is very great, advertisements
being free of duty in America, the number of their
readers is almost co-extensive with that of the popu
lation. There are few in America who do not both
take in and read their newspapers. English news
papers are, in the first place, read but by a few ; and
in the next, the number of papers read is small in
comparison with the number that read them. The
chief circulation of English papers is in exchanges,
news-rooms, reading-rooms, hotels, taverns, coffee
houses, and pot-houses, but a fraction of those who
read them taking them in for themselves. Their
high price may have much to do with this. In Ame
rica the case is totally different. Not only are places
of public resort well supplied with the journals of
the day, but most families take in their paper, or
papers. With us it is chiefly the inhabitants of
towns that read the journals; in America the vast
body of the rural population peruse them with the
same avidity and universality as do their brethren in
the towns. "Were it otherwise it would be impossible
for the number, which now appear, to exist. But as
newspapers are multiplied, so are readers, every one
reading and most subscribing to a newspaper. Many
families, even in the rural districts, are not contented
with one, but must have two or more, adding some
metropolitan paper to the one or two local papers to
which they subscribe.

The character of the American press is> in many

THE WESTERN WORLD. 243

points of view, not as elevated as it might be. But in
this respect it is rapidly improving, and, as compared
to what it was some years ago, there is now a marked
change in it for the better. There may be as much
violence, but there is less scurrility than heretofore
in its columns; it is also rapidly improving in a lite
rary point of view. There are several journals in
some of the great metropolitan cities, which, whether
we take into account the ability with which they are
conducted, or the dignity of attitude which they
assume, as favourably contrast with the great bulk of
the American press, as do the best conducted journals
of this country.

The American papers, particularly in the larger
commercial towns, are conducted with great spirit;
but they spend far more money in the pursuit of
news than they do in the employment of talent.
Their great object is to anticipate each other in the
publication of news. For this purpose they will
either individually, or sometimes in combination, go
to great trouble and expense. During the progress of
the Oregon controversy a few of the papers in New
York and Philadelphia clubbed together to express
the European news from Halifax to New York, by
horse-express and steamer, a distance of 700 miles,
and this too in winter. The most striking instance
of competition between them that ever came under my
observation was the following. For some time after
the breaking out of the Mexican war, the anxiety to
obtain news from the South was intense. There
was then no electric telegraph south of Washington,
the news had therefore to come to that city from
New Orleans through the ordinary mail channels.
The strife was between several Baltimore papers for
M 2

244 THE WESTERN WORLD.

the first use of the telegraph between Washington
and Baltimore. The Telegraph-office was close to the
Post-office, both being more than a mile from the
wharf, at which the mail-steamer, after having
ascended the Potomac from the Aquia Creek, stopped,
and from which the mail-bags had to be carried in
a wagon to the Post-office. The plan adopted by
the papers to anticipate each other was this. Each
had an agent on board the steamer, whose duty it
was, as she was ascending the river, to obtain all the
information that was new, and put it in a succinct
form for transmission by telegraph, the moment it
reached Washington. Having done so, he tied the
manuscript to a short heavy stick, which he threw
ashore as the boat was making the wharf. On shore
each paper had two other agents, one a boy mounted
on horseback, and the other a man on foot, ready to
catch the stick to which the manuscript was attached
the moment it reached the ground. As soon as he
got hold of it he handed it to the boy on horseback,
who immediately set off with it at full gallop for
the Telegraph-office. There were frequently five or
six thus scrambling for precedence, and as they some
times all got a good start, the race was a very exciting
one. Crowds gathered every evening around the
Post-office and Telegraph-office, both to learn the
news, and witness the result of the race. The first
in, secured the telegraph, and in a quarter of an hour
afterwards the news was known at Baltimore, forty
miles ofT, and frequently before the mail was de
livered, and it was known even at Washington itself.
On an important occasion one of the agents alluded
to as being on board, beat his competitors by an ex
pert manoeuvre. He managed, unperceived, to take

THE WESTERN WORLD. 245

a bow on board with him, with which, on the arrival
of the boat, he shot his manuscript ashore, attached
to an arrow, long before his rivals could throw the
sticks ashore to which their's was tied. Next even
ing, however, when still more important news was
expected, and arrived, he was in turn outwitted. On
her way up the boat touches at Alexandria, on the
south side of the river, to leave the bags directed to
that town, and take others from it. On this occasion
one of the newspapers had a relay of horses between
Washington and Alexandria, the rider receiving the
news from the agent on board at the latter place, and
galloping off with it to the capital. The bow was
then of no use, for by the time the news-laden arrow
was shot ashore, the intelligence designed for the
rival paper was being telegraphed to Baltimore. It
will thus be seen that the American press partakes of
that " go-aheadism " which characterises the pursuit
of business in so many of its other departments in
America.

A people may very generally be able to read, and
yet the means of intellectual gratification may be
placed beyond their reach. There can be no doubt
but that it is greatly owing to their cheapness that
American newspapers are so universally perused.
This cheapness arises partly from competition, partly
from the little expense at which newspapers are got
up, and partly from the absence of causes tending
artificially to enhance their price. But there is no
little misconception in this country as to the cheap
ness of American newspapers. The American people
have taken care that no excise or other duties should
exist, which might enhance the price of literature,
in any form in which it might appear. America

246 THE WESTERN WORLD.

is thus, undoubtedly, the land of cheap literature;
but, in connexion with the newspaper press, the
mistake made is in supposing that English journals
are exceedingly high-priced, as compared with those
of America. I shall show that, not only is this not
the case, but that independently of stamp and excise
duties, the first-class papers of this country are in
reality cheaper than the first-class papers in America.
It is true that a large proportion of American news
papers are sold at the low rate of two cents, and some
at one cent a copy, but it would be unfair to institute
anything like a comparison between therri and the
daily press of this country.

Taking the first-class papers of New York, such
as the Courier and Inquirer, the Journal of Commerce,
the Commercial Advertiser, the New York American, &c.
we find them sell at six cents per copy. This is
about threepence-halfpenny of our money. It is
obvious, therefore, that if they had a penny to pay
by way of stamp duty upon each number, and about
a halfpenny more in the shape of excise duty upon
paper, their cost would be faepence, which is the
price of our daily papers. So far they appear to be
upon an equality. But when we take into account
the enormous expense at which a paper in London is
conducted ; the cost of its parliamentary corps, its
staff of editors, and its legion of foreign corre
spondents ; and consider also that, with one exception,
the advertising patronage of our daily papers (thanks
to the advertisement duty,) is far less than that of the
American journals, we see that a London paper with
stamp and excise duty off it, and selling at the same
price as an American, would, in reality, considering
the expensive appliances brought to bear upon it, be

THE WESTERN WORLD. 247

much cheaper than the transatlantic journal. But
I have not yet done with the points in the compari
son favourable to the English press in point of price.
Whilst the American papers, had they the same
burdens to bear as the English have, would sell at
fivepence, the actual selling price of the English
paper \s four pence. In other words, the selling price,
minus the stamp and excise duties, is twopence-
halfpenny, or one penny lower than the American
paper, which is produced at one-half the expense, so
far as all its literary departments are concerned. It
is true that to the public the price of a London
paper is fivepence, but it is the newsvender, not the
newspaper, that pockets the difference. Now the
newsvending system in America has made little or
no progress, so that a paper selling there at three
pence-halfpenny, enables its proprietors to pocket
the whole profits upon the sale, instead of sharing
diem, as here, with parties intermediate between them
and the public. The true state of the case, there
fore, between the two papers is this, that whilst a
first-class American paper sells for threepence-half
penny, a London paper which is produced at infinitely
greater expense, and has a smaller advertising patron
age, and which is at the same time burdened with
stamp and excise duties to the extent of nearly
a penny-halfpenny per copy, sells at fourpence.
Great, therefore, as is the difference of cost in every
respect at which they are produced, that in their
selling price is but one halfpenny. The difference to
the public, but including the newsvender's profit, is
three-halfpence,

An English, is thus comparatively cheaper than an
American first-class newspaper. It is a pity that by

248 THE WESTERN WORLD.

the abolition of those duties which artificially enhance
their price, English journals were not nominally as
cheap to the public as are American. From making
them so, society would reap every advantage. Let
it be borne in mind that there is a cheap press in
this country, a very cheap press, the issues of which
seldom meet the eye of the so-called respectable
classes, but which are daily diffusing their intel
lectual and moral poison amongst the lower orders.
And what have we to counteract this great, though
but partly appreciated evil ? The bane is cheap,
the antidote is dear. The bane works, therefore,
without check. We cleanse our putrid sewers by
directing through them currents of fresh water.
Why not bring similar purifying influences to bear
upon the daily receptacles of moral filth ? We are
doing all we can by the erection of baths and wash-
houses to superinduce amongst the people a cleanly
habit of body, by cheapening the processes by which
alone, in the midst of a large community, it is to be
attained. But we take no efficient steps to secure
for the lower orders a wholesome habit of mind. We
make war with physical disease, but leave moral
pestilence to do its deadly work. The cheap press,
with all its pestiferous influences, is the poor man's
intellectual aliment, whilst the respectable and high-
priced press is the rich man's luxury. It is essential
to the well-being of society that the latter should
circulate where the former circulates. It is essential,
therefore, to the well-being of society that the
respectable press should be made as cheap as possible.

CHAPTER IX.

RELIGION IN THE UNITED STATES.

Separation of the Church from the State. — Effects of this upon
both the Church and the State. — Voluntaryism in America. —
Difference between Voluntaryism there and Dissent in this
country. —Sect in America. — Proportion in point of numbers and
influence of the different Protestant Sects. — The Roman Catholics.
— Far-seeing Policy of the Church of Rome in America. — Re
vivals. — Independence of the American Clergy. — Zeal of some of
the American Churches. — Attention paid to Strangers in Ame
rican Churches. — Church Music. — The Organ.— Sunday Schools. —
Conclusion.

WHILST education is universally promoted in America
by the State, as a matter in which the State is equally
interested with the individual, religion is left to itself,
not as a matter in which the State has no interest, but
as being of such high individual concern, that it is
thought better for the State to keep aloof and leave it to
the care of the individual. Moreover, the experience
of other nations had taught the Americans, ere they
framed their constitution, that religion and politics
were not the most compatible of elements, and that
political systems had the best chance of working
smoothly towards their object, when least encum
bered by alliances with the church. If there was
one thing on which, more than another, they were

M3

250 THE WESTERN WORLD.

agreed, in preparing a political frame -work for the
Union, it was in the propriety and necessity, if they
would not mar their own work, of divorcing the State
from the Church. The ceremony of separation may
be delayed in countries in which the connexion exists,
long after the necessity for it is felt and its propriety
acknowledged, from the difficulty which is ever in
the way of breaking up old ties and associations. It
is thus that the alliance between Church and State
in England is likely, for some time, to outlive opinion
in its favour. Were we forming our political system
anew, there is no doubt but that many who are
now Church and State men from circumstances,
would be anti-Church and State men on principle.
The connexion in England now depends for its con
tinuance more upon the conservative feeling which
instinctively rallies round an existing institution, no
matter how unnecessary soever it may be, or how ill-
adapted to the circumstances of the time, than upon
any very prevalent conviction of its being beneficial
to religion, or advantageous to the State. The
Americans were fortunate in determining and arrang
ing their system, in having a clear field before them.
In settling it, they were at liberty to base it upon
their convictions untrammelled by inconvenient pre
existing arrangements. They, therefore, wisely de
termined to leave out of their plan, a feature, which,
as it seemed to them, had added neither strength nor
harmony to the political systems of others. They not
only divorced the State from the Church, in a strictly
political sense, but, in so doing, refused to allow the
Church a separate maintenance. Her empire they
regarded as the heart of man, and if she could not
establish herself there, they would not sustain her in

THE WESTERN WORLD. 251

a false position. Thus, whilst we bolster up the
Church and leave education to take care of itself,
they promote education as a people, and leave reli
gion to its own elevated sway over the individual.
Thus far they come in aid of Christianity — that in
educating the people, they prepare the public mind
for the more ready reception of its lofty inculcations
and sublime truths. But they go no further. The
social duties which man owes to man, the State will
enforce. But if the people forget their duties to God
and to themselves, it is God that must deal with
them, and not the State. To make religion in any
degree a matter of treaties, protocols, and statutes, is
to detract from its high moral dignity — to make it a
matter of State convenience, is to abase it.

There is no principle more freely admitted, both
practically and theoretically, in America, than the
right of every man to think for himself on all matters
connected with religion. The side from which they
view the matter, is not that the admission of this
principle is a concession made by each to all, and by
all to each, but that the denial of it would be an in
defensible invasion of one of the highest rights of the
individual, a right superior and antecedent to all social
and political arrangements. It is thus that the insult
ing term " toleration" is but seldom heard in America
in connexion with the religious system of the country.
To say that one tolerates another's creed, implies
some right to disallow it, a right that happens to be
suspended or in abeyance for the time being. The
only mode in which the Americans manifest any in
tolerance in reference to religion is, that they will
not tolerate that the independence of the individual
should, in any degree, be called in question in con-

252 THE WESTERN WORLD.

nexion with it. They will therefore tolerate no
political disabilities whatever to attach to a man on
account of his religious belief. In their individual
capacity, they seek not to coerce each other's opinions ;
in their social and political capacity, they regard each
other as citizens, and simply as such. If a man per
forms the duties, and bears the burdens of a citizen,
they do not inquire into his views upon the Trinity,
or his notions of the Immaculate Conception.

This state of things will give rise, in the reader's
mind, to two questions — What does the State gain by
it, and what is its effect upon the interests of reli
gion ? The State must be a gainer by the removal
of a prolific cause of discord and bitterness of feeling.
In addition to this, the Union has the exalted satis
faction of knowing that it has washed its hands, in
its political capacity, of every thing savouring of
religious persecution, whilst the Americans, as a
people, are not liable to the scandal of seeking per
force to save one man through the medium of another's
views. Its effect upon the interests of religion will
be seen from what follows.

Well may the nations of the world fix their eyes
anxiously on America, for it is the scene, not only of
a great political, but also of a great religious experi
ment. The problem which it is working out involves
political liberty in connexion with society, and the
voluntary principle in connexion with religion. For
the first time since its junction with the State, has
Christianity been thrown upon its own imperishable
resources, in the midst of a great people. And has
it suffered from its novel position? Who accuses
the Americans of being an irreligious people ? Nay,
rather, who can deny to them, as a people, a pre-

THE WESTEKN WORLD. 253

eminence in religious fervour and devotion ? There
are many who regard religion as very much a matter of
climate, and believe that it is more likely to find a wel
come in the reflective minds and comparatively gloomy
imaginations of the inhabitants of the North, than in
the quicker wits and more lively fancies of the deni
zens of the South. Whatever be its cause, the further
north we go in our own country, the more do we find
the people imbued with the religious sentiment, and
the more universally do we find them submitting to the
dominion of religion. It is precisely so in the United
States. The North, as it is the more energetic, is
also the more religions section of the Confederacy,
there being as great a difference in connexion with
religion between the New Yorker and the Carolinian,
as between the rigid and morose Presbyterian of Glas
gow and the more cheerful Churchman of London.
To whatever extent religion may have laid hold of
the public mind, in this or in that section of it, the
voluntary principle is ubiquitous throughout the
Union. If in the North the obligations of religion
are extensively, so are they voluntarily observed ; if
in the South they are comparatively neglected, they
are voluntarily overlooked. There is no State Church
in the one case to take credit for men's zeal, and in
the other, to receive blame for their callousness. The
same difference is observable in both countries in con
nexion with latitude. But taking each country as a
whole, the religious sentiment is more extensively
diffused, and more active in its operations in America
than in Great Britain. And this, in a country in
which religion has been left to itself.

What then becomes of the sinister predictions of
those who assert that a State connexion is necessary

254 THE WESTERN WORLD.

to the vigorous maintenance of Christianity ? Does
religion, assume a languid aspect in America, where
there is no such connexion ? Is it less vigorous in
Scotland than in England, the alliance in the former
being but partial as compared with its closeness and
intimacy in the latter ? Throughout New England,
the northern, and some of the middle States, religion
is not only as active, but it is as well sustained as it is
in this country, notwithstanding the aid and comfort
which it here receives from the State.

Are proofs of the vitality and energy of religion
in America wanted? Look at the number of its
churches, the extent and character of its congrega
tions, the frequency of its religious assemblages, the
fervour of its religious exercises, and the devotion of
its religious community, testified by their large and
multifarious donations for religious purposes both at
home and abroad. Like the Church in Scotland, the
Church in America too has its great schemes, towards
the maintenance of which it is constantly and libe
rally contributing. It has its Missions, home and
foreign, its Bible and Tract Societies, its Sunday
School Unions, and associations for the conversion of
the Jews ; in short, there is not a scheme which has of
late interested the Christian world, in which it does
not take a cheerful and prominent part. Does this
bear out the assertions of those who say that the
voluntary system has a paralysing influence ? But we
need not go to America for a practical refutation of
this oft asserted fallacy. It is amply furnished to us
at home, for by far the most energetic section of our
Christian community is that which constitutes the
great voluntary body. The proofs are all in favour
of the converse of the proposition ; everything, both

THE WESTERN WORLD. 255

here and in America, tending to show that the reli
gious sentiment is more diffused and energetic, when
allied to voluntaryism, than when it is taken under
the protection of the State.

It is only in America, however, that the voluntary
principle has had an opportunity of exhibiting itself
in its proper character. There are many, judging
of it from the phase which it assumes in this country,
who object to it, on the ground of its apparent ten
dency to run into fanaticism, and to carry that fana
ticism into politics. In a country divided between
the voluntary principle and that of an established
Church, the tendency to over-zeal and fanaticism is
much increased, by the conflict which is waged be
tween the two principles. The blood of the attacking
party is always more heated than that of the attacked.
The voluntaries here are the attacking party. The
Church, with some slight exceptions, remains on the
defensive, the cohorts of voluntaryism assailing her
at every practicable point. Their favourite tactics
consist in outstripping her in zeal and devotedness —
no very difficult matter ; but zeal once roused, and
inflamed by resistance, frequently runs into extremes,
which it never contemplated in its cooler moments.
Thus the voluntary churches, in running a race in zeal
with the Church, get into such a habit of racing that
they throw down the gage to each other. Zeal
thus rises into enthusiasm, and enthusiasm often
merges into fanaticism. No matter from what point
it starts, when religion reaches this point it becomes
bigoted, relentless, intolerant, and persecuting. It
also transcends the line of its own duties, and
whilst repudiating all connexion with the State,
would fain reduce the State into subjection to it.

256 THE WESTERN WORLD.

Forgetful of its own vocation, it intermeddles with
matters of a purely secular character, and thus, in
stead of aiding men in their career of social advance
ment, frequently throws the greatest stumbling-
blocks in their way. It is thus that religion, in both
its established and voluntary phases in this country,
has proved itself the greatest drawback to education.
Churchmen and Voluntaries seeking to make it ex
clusively subservient to their own views, instead of
renouncing all connexion with it as religionists, and
treating it as primarily a matter of secular concern.

Voluntaryism in America exhibits itself in a more
attractive aspect. There it has the whole field to
itself, and its manifestation of a more tractable dis
position is owing not a little, perhaps, to the absence
of those inducements to strife and opposition to which
Dissent in this country is exposed. Let me not be
here understood to mean that religion, in the different
forms in which it manifests itself in America, is always
characterised by that gentle, placid and forbearing
spirit which it should ever seek to cherish. It is
frequently as much inflamed by zeal and distorted
by fanaticism as it is here ; but there are directions
in which a misguided zeal often tends in this country
which it never takes in America. Here it frequently
applies itself to political objects, there it scarcely
ever does so. An American zealot may be quite
reasonable as a politician, because, in his capacity of
zealot, he seldom encounters a political opponent.
Sects in America contend with each other almost
exclusively on the religious arena, their great object
being to outstrip each other in fervour and devotion,
partly from the desire to spread what is sincerely
believed to be the truth, partly from the pride which

THE WESTERN WORLD. 257

mingles with belief, and partly from the desire to
increase the number and social influence of the sect
throughout the Union. Religion in America is
rarely brought into the field as a political accessary.
Americans seek not to achieve anything political
through its means. In this respect, religion escapes
in America the degradation to which it is so fre
quently subjected here. By refraining from inter
fering with politics, and confining itself to a purely
social influence, it recommends itself more to the com
munity generally, than it would do were it, as in this
country, constantly thwarting the progress of secular
interests. So little is it the habit of voluntaryism in
America to interfere in matters of a political bearing,
that when Congress, although the great majority of
the members were Protestants, selected a Roman
Catholic priest as one of its chaplains, no one dreamt
of organizing a religious agitation to prevent such an
infraction of Protestant, privileges in future. Thus
both the State and the Church find it to their account
to confine themselves exclusively to their respective
provinces, the State abstaining from all interference
with religion as the State, and the Church taking no
part as the Church in the management of secular
affairs. Voluntaryism in America is, for this reason,
divested of many of those features which render Dis
sent unattractive to such numbers in this country.
It is when in forced or accidental connexion with
politics that sect exhibits itself in its most repulsive
aspect. Where one denomination has a political
side, others have, by consequence, the same. They
mutually assail each other, the one to maintain its
privileges and extend its power ; the others, to de
fend themselves against coercion, and deprive their

258 THE WESTERN WOULD.

rival of its usurped authority. The strife not being
of an exclusively religious character, the passions of
men are not kept in that check which decency enjoins
upon them in a purely religious contest. They thus
learn to carry into questions of a direct religious
bearing, if not exclusively of a religious character, all
the excitements and passions of political contention.
Such is Dissent in this country — circumstances have
made it so. Voluntaryism in America, being sub
jected to fewer causes of disturbance, is more placid
in its action, and more engaging in its demeanour.
Sect there, as here, is in constant rivalry with sect,
but the race they run with each other being chiefly a
religious one, their conduct in pursuing it is more
consistent with their professions, and more in har
mony with the spirit of genuine religion, than is the
case in the warfare waged against each other by de
nominations in this country. In America, the only
disturbing influences to which sect is exposed, are
religious zeal and fanaticism ; whereas in this country,
when these are dead, it is frequently roused into
phrenzy by political excitements. Let voluntaryism
therefore not be judged of solely from its manifesta
tions in this country, where there are so many in
fluences at work inimicable to its more favourable
development.

The reader has scarcely to be told that nine-tenths
of the American people are Protestants. The number
of sects into which they are divided and subdivided can
only be ascertained by a patient investigation of the
census. There is no country in the world in which
sect flourishes more luxuriantly than in America.
This is perhaps the natural result of that freedom
of opinion on matters of religion, which is one of the

THE WESTERN WOULD. 259

chief characteristics of the Protestant mind. Nor does
any harm accrue from it, when sects are not brought
into collision from causes with which religion has, or
should have nothing to do, seeing that the points on
which they differ are in reality, in nine cases out of
ten, of comparatively minor importance. They suf
fice nevertheless to separate sect from sect, and to
engender between them that spirit of rivalry which
some regard as advantageous to the spread and pre
servation of the truth, each sect keeping a vigilant and
jealous eye on the creed and inculcations of its rivals.
As regards numbers, the following is the order in
which the principal sects range in America. First
come the Methodists, who have upwards of 7,000
ministers, and more than 1,200,000 communicants.
Next in order are the Baptists, divided, like the
Methodists, into numerous sub-sects, and having
about the same number of ministers, but not quite so
many communicants. After these come the Presby
terians, divided into the New school and Old school
party, the quarrel between them having partly arisen
from slight doctrinal differences, and partly in con
nexion with some property. The former is the more
numerous section, having about 1,700 ministers, and
nearly 200,000 communicants ; the latter, about
1,300 ministers, and 150,000 communicants. United,
they have about 3,000 ministers, and 350,000 commu
nicants. The Congregationalists follow next in order,
having about 1,800 ministers, and a little upwards of
200,000 communicants. These are subdivided into the
Orthodox and Unitarian Congregationalists, the latter
having nearly 275 ministers, and 40,000 communi
cants. The Evangelical Lutherans follow next in
order, a denomination chiefly composed of German

260 THE WESTERN WORLD.

emigrants and their descendants. They have about
500 ministers, and 145,000 communicants. The
Episcopalians follow, with upwards of 1,300 ministers,
and about 80,000 communicants ; immediately after
whom come the Universalists, with more than 700
ministers, and upwards of 60,000 communicants.
It is needless to trace the relative standing of the
minor sects. New England is the chief seat of Con
gregationalism in its two phases, Orthodox and Uni
tarian, and of Universalism. The principal strong
hold of Presbyterianism is in the Northern States,
although in no other part of the Union does any one
denomination so completely predominate as the Con
gregation alists do in New England. The wealth,
fashion, and intelligence of that part of the country are
included within this denomination, although, taking
the country generally, the predominance of wealth and
intelligence is with the Presbyterians, notwithstand
ing that they rank but third in point of numbers.
The Episcopalians are comparatively few in number,
but there is much wealth and intelligence with them.
With the exception of the judges of the Supreme
court at Washington, I never beheld a civil func
tionary in America decorated with any of the para
phernalia of office to which the European eye is so
accustomed. With the exception of the Episcopal
clergy in America, I never saw a Protestant minister
wear either gown or surplice in the pulpit.

In the above enumeration the Roman Catholics
have not been mentioned, confined as it has been to
the Protestant sects. Their numbers are not great,
as compared with the Protestants ; but they are never
theless a sect of considerable power in the Union. In
1848 they had about 850 churches — nearly 900 priests,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 261

and 1,175,000 communicants. It would not be cor
rect, however, in comparing their aggregate number
with that of the other sects, to take the number of
communicants as the basis of comparison ; inasmuch
as with the Roman Catholics almost every adult is
reckoned a communicant, which is far from being the
case with the adherents of the Protestant denomina
tions. The Catholics are a strong body in all the
large towns ; and in some parts of the country they
have rural districts, of considerable extent, under
their sway. Until the purchase of Louisiana, in 1803,
Maryland was, in point of numbers, the leading
Catholic State in the Union, as she is yet in point of
influence. As the American has not yet out-num
bered the French population in Louisiana, it follows
that the largest moiety of the white inhabitants of
that State are Roman Catholics.

It is to her colonial origin that Maryland owes the
pre-eminence which she has so long maintained as the
chief seat of Roman Catholic influence in the Union.
After other sects had fled from the Old World to the
New to escape persecution, the Catholics, in some
instances, found that they too were in want of a
place in which they could worship God according to
their consciences. They accordingly emigrated in
great numbers to the State of Maryland, named after
Queen Mary, and being for some time a proprietary
colony belonging to Lord Baltimore, whose name its
chief town still bears. The Roman Catholic colonists
set an early example of religious toleration, which
was but ill requited by the Protestants, as soon as
they attained a numerical superiority in the State.
The number of Roman Catholics in the State is now
daily diminishing, as compared with that of the

262 THE WESTERN WOULD.

Protestants — the hold which Catholicism now has of
Maryland consisting chiefly of the adhesion to it
of many of the older families of the State. The Ca
tholic cathedral at Baltimore has already been ad
verted to, in the brief description given of that city.
The only other ecclesiastical edifice in the Union,
dedicated to Catholicism, which deserves the name,
is the cathedral at New Orleans.

It is not so much on account of its present number
of adherents, or the influence which it now exerts,
that Catholicism in the United States demands the
attention of Christendom. It is in view of its future
prospects, that it assumes an attitude of rather a for
midable character. Nowhere on earth is the far-seeing
policy of the Church of Rome at present so adroitly
displayed as on the American continent. Indeed
from the earliest epoch of colonization we find her
aiming at the religious subjugation of America.
For a time success seemed to crown her efforts.
The whole of South America, Central America, and
the greater part of North America, together with all
the islands on the coast, were divided between the
crowns of Portugal, France, and Spain. England, for
many years after her first attempts at colonization,
possessed but a comparatively narrow strip of land
between the Atlantic and the Alleganies, and extend
ing along the sea-board from Acadia to Georgia. New
France swept round the English colonies, from the
mouth of the St. Lawrence to that of the Mississippi,
whilst the Spanish Floridas intervened between them
and the Gulf of Mexico. Within this wide embrace,
with the ocean in front, lay the group of Protestant
colonies belonging to England. It was not sufficient
for the Church of Rome that she hemmed them in

THE WESTERN WOELD. 263

on three sides by her territory. The wide domain
which owned her sway was but thinly peopled,
whilst the English colonies were rapidly filling with
population. Protestantism wras thus fast attaining
on the continent a more extensive moral influence
than its competitor. It was then that a Roman Ca
tholic colony was planted in its very midst, on the
shores of the Chesapeake, the policy of the church
having had no little influence on the moral destinies of
Maryland. But the tide had set in too strongly in
favour of the rival system, and it soon overpowered
all opposition to it. Since that time Catholicism in
Maryland has acted more on the defensive than
otherwise — its object having chiefly been to maintain
itself as a centre and rallying point for Catholicism in
the Union, with a view to future operations in new
and vaster scenes of action.

The ground has now for many years been broken,
and these operations have long since actively com
menced. The Roman Catholic church has, in a man
ner, abandoned the comparatively popular States of
the sea-board, and fixed its attention upon the valley
of the Mississippi. In this it has discovered a far-
seeing policy. Nineteen-twentieths of the Mississippi
valley are yet under the dominion of the wilderness.
But no portion of the country is being so rapidly
filled with population. In fifty years its inhabitants
will, in number, be more than double those of the
Atlantic States. The Church of Rome has virtually
left the latter to the tender mercies of contending
Protestant sects, and is fast taking possession of the
great valley. There, opinion is not yet so strongly
arrayed against her, and she has room to hope for
ultimate ascendency. In her operations, she does

264 THE WESTERN WORLD.

not confine herself to the more populous portions of
the valley, her devoted missionaries, penetrating its
remotest regions, wherever a white man or an Indian
is to be found. Wherever the Protestant missionary
goes he finds that he has been forestalled by his more
active rival, whose coadjutors roam on their proselytiz
ing mission over vast tracts of country, into which the
Protestant has not yet followed him with a similar
object. Catholicism is thus, by its advance-guards,
who keep pace with population whithersoever it
spreads, sowing broad-cast the seeds of future in
fluence. In many districts, the settler finds no
religious counsellor within reach but the faithful
missionary of Rome, who has thus the field to himself
— a field which he frequently cultivates with success.
In addition to this, seminaries in connexion with the
church are being founded, not only in places which
are now well filled with people, but in spots which
careful observation has satisfied its agents will yet
most teem with population. Ecclesiastical establish
ments too are being erected, which commend them
selves to the people of the districts in which they are
found by the mode in which they minister to their
comforts and their necessities when other means of
ministering to them are wanted. The Sisters of
Charity have already their establishments amid the
deep recesses of the forest, prescribing to the diseased
in body, and administering consolation to the troubled
in spirit, long before the doctor or the minister makes
his appearance in the settlement. By this attention
to the physical as well as to the moral wants, the
Roman emissaries, ere there are yet any to compete
with them, gain the good will of the neighbourhood
in the midst of which they labour, and proselytism

THE WESTERN WORLD. 265

frequently follows bard upon a lively sentiment of
gratitude. Circumstances have favoured the Church
of Rome in the development of this policy. When
both the St. Lawrence and Mississippi, with most of
their tributaries, were in the possession of France, a
belt of ecclesiastical establishments accompanied the
chain of military posts, which, extending westward
from the coast of Labrador to the lakes, descended
thence to the mouth of the Ohio, and then spread
north and south on both banks of the Mississippi.
The basis was then laid for the future operations of
the Church. It is nearly a century since France lost
Canada, since which time a gap intervened between
the Church's establishments in its eastern section and
those dotting the province of Louisiana. But down
to the year 1803, the whole of the west bank of the
Mississippi, and both banks in the neighbourhood of
its mouth, were in the hands of the French, the ad
vanced posts of the Church spreading and multiplying
between St. Louis and New Orleans, whilst the
eastern or Protestant bank of the river was yet an
unbroken wilderness. The present operations of the
Church of Rome, therefore, in the valley, cannot be
regarded as an invasion of that region, her object
now being to profit by the advantages which she so
early secured. Were the Protestant sects to confront
her as actively as they might, in the great field which
she has thus selected for herself, they might even yet
check her growth and limit her influence. But they
seem to be either unaware of, or indifferent to, the
danger with which they are menaced. They are
seeking to rival each other in the older States, whilst
their common rival is laying a broad foundation for
future influence in that region, which will soon
VOL. III. N

266 THE WESTERN WORLD.

eclipse the older States, in population at least. Both
in St. Louis and New Orleans, some of the best
seminaries for young ladies are Catholic institutions,
and not a few of those who attend them become con
verts to the Church. But it is in the remote and yet
comparatively unpeopled districts that the probabilities
of her success in this respect are greatest. She has
thus, in the true spirit of worldly wisdom, left Pro
testantism to exhaust its energies amongst the more
populous communities ; and going in advance of it
into the wilderness, is fast overspreading that wilder
ness with a net-work which will yet embrace multi
tudes of its future population. How can it be
otherwise when, as settlements arise, they find at
innumerable points the Church of Rome the only
spiritual edifice in their midst. Were she to secure
the valley, she would gain more in America than all
she has lost in Europe. The stake is worth striving
for ; and Protestantism would far more consult its
own interests by directing its efforts less to the Niger
and more to the Mississippi.

For a long time a strong aversion to the Americans
actuated the French settlements, an aversion chiefly
founded upon religious considerations. The priest
hood regarded republicanism as inimical to the
hierarchy, and imbued their flocks with the same
belief. The existence of the belief that a connexion
with them, if successful, would be inimical to the
interests of the Church, was one of the chief sources
of the loyalty which the French Canadians exhibited
in refusing to join the revolutionary movement on
which the Protestant colonies embarked in 1776.
The purchase of Louisiana, however, and its incor
poration for the last forty-five years with the Union,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 267

have greatly tended to weaken this belief, and to
eradicate from the Catholic mind in America the aver
sion which it once entertained to a political connexion
with the Republic. The habitans are now rapidly re
conciling themselves to the idea of such a connexion.
The same feeling actuated, and to some extent
still actuates, the Mexicans. Apprehensive that the
war which broke out in 1846 might end in the entire
subjugation of their country, the Mexican hierarchy
sent emissaries into the Union to ascertain the pre
cise effect which such an event would have upon the
Church ; and, from all I could learn at the time, they
returned with their fears, if not wholly removed, at
least greatly diminished.

I have already intimated that sect in America is
not wanting in occasional ebullitions of zeal and fana
ticism. Indeed with some sects fanaticism sometimes
attains an extravagance which borders on the sub
lime. As violent fits could not last long without
exhausting the body, so these periodic religious
spasms — fortunately for the sanity of the public
mind, — although they pretty frequently occur, are
only temporary in their duration. Some sects are
cooler in their moral temperament than others, and
are seldom or ever affected by them ; but others are
afflicted with them almost with the regularity, though
with longer intervals between, of shivering fits during
an attack of ague. The denominations most unfor
tunate in this respect are the Baptists and Methodists,
whilst occasionally the more sober Presbyterians sym
pathise and fall a prey to the disorder. The moral
distemper which on these occasions seizes upon
masses of the population, is termed a " revival."
Such visitations are not rare amongst ourselves, but

268 THE WESTERN WOKLD.

it is seldom that they attain anything like the appal
ling influence which they sometimes gain in America.
Like a physical epidemic, their course is uncertain
and capricious, frequently attacking communities
which have always been ranked amongst those morally
healthy, and passing over, in reaching them, others
which had previously exhibited themselves in a state
of almost chronic religious derangement. These
revivals, when they occur, at first generally embrace
but one sect; but if they take hold of the public,
they soon draw other denominations into the move
ment, which do not, however, throw aside their dis-
tinctiveness in taking part in it. The interest of the
whole affair is almost invariably centered in one peri
patetic enthusiast, who, watching the tone and temper
of the public mind, takes advantage of the existence
of a pervading ennui, and commences a religious
campaign when any novelty is sure to recommend
itself. For a while his success may not appear to be
commensurate with his efforts, but by-and-by the
locality in which he labours is roused, the movement
spreads into the adjoining districts, the revival ac
quires momentum, and millions are in a frenzy.
The enthusiast proceeds on his tour of moral dis
turbance and religious agitation. In each locality
which he visits, the nucleus of the movement is the
sect to which he belongs. Most of the day is divided
between prayer-meetings and sermons. People get
nervous, and the malady spreads. Members of other
denominations flock to the church, some from curi
osity, others from different motives. The lion of the
movement is in the pulpit, sometimes foaming at the
mouth in the midst of his declamations. The weaker
members of the dense congregation yield — they get

THE WESTERN WORLD. 269

agitated and alarmed — hysterics follow, and some
are in tears. The sympathy of numbers tells upon
many more — hopes are inspired and alarm engendered,
which bring them back again to the scene, to be
similarly influenced as before — and they end by
seeking the " anxious seat," confessing their sins, and
being " born again." Business is neglected, families
are divided and disturbed, and the greater part of the
community, but not until their nerves are almost
shattered> give way more or less to the reigning fana
ticism of the hour. Hundreds are added to the
Church in a day.

During one of these revivals, which it was my lot to
witness, and of which the Baptist denomination was
the primum mobile, I knew as many as five hundred
baptized in the course of three hours, in a huge tub
which was kept at the foot of the pulpit for the purpose.
Rakes are reclaimed, prodigal sons return to their long-
neglected duties, backsliders make open confession of
their sins in the church and are reinstated, and hun
dreds who have been hitherto in different give way to the
fervour of the hour. And this is what is called making
converts. The consequences almost invariably prove
how great a mistake is made in this respect. Num
bers of those who, yielding to an impulse engendered
more by a physical excitement than anything else, in
the moment of dread or enthusiasm, enrol themselves
as converts, relapse into their former ways as soon as
the paroxysm is passed, and the reaction ensues. They
do worse than this, for a backward step taken under
such circumstances is tantamount to several under
ciscumstances of an ordinary description. There is
then the pernicious example which they set to bo
taken into account, and the readiness with which the

270 THE WESTERN WORLD.

scoffer seizes upon their backslidings to throw ridi
cule upon religion itself. When will these zealots
learn that religion is a matter of the judgment as
well as of the feelings ! Yet the whole of their
system of revivals is built upon an exclusive appeal
to the weaker side of man's nature. They may
trample upon the judgment for the time being, but
they cannot always keep it in thrall ; and when it
does assert its supremacy, it may avenge itself for
having been dragged into one extreme by permitting
itself to be hurried into another. The principle of
these audacious caricatures upon religion is not,
" come, let us reason together," but " come, and be
scared into conversion." The fanaticism which they
engender is fierce whilst it lasts ; but the reaction,
which is not long delayed, does incredible mischief to
the cause of rational religion.

The most enthusiastic revival ever witnessed by me
had its inception amongst the Baptists. It com
menced somewhere in the West, and spread in an
incredibly short space of time over a large portion of
the Northern States, embracing at last the adherents
of almost every sect within its influence. The source
of this moral perturbation was an Elder belonging to
the denomination named, who made the tour of the
North and North-west. Wherever he went, he soon
managed to engender a perfect furore, thousands
nocking to hear him rave, and hundreds being almost
daily frightened by him into repentance and regenera
tion. A large proportion of the residents of each town
in which he pitched his tent for a time were exces
sively annoyed, inconvenienced, and scandalized by
the proceedings which accompanied his sojourn, and
one had cause to be thankful in walking the streets

THE WESTERN WORLD. 271

if he escaped impertinent encounters by the way. I
was myself frequently stopped on the public pave
ment by parties whom I knew not, and admonished
to repent, and go and be baptized. On one occasion
I was met and accosted by the Elder himself.

" Young man," said he, stopping me, and laying his
hand paternally upon my shoulder, " how's your
soul ? "

"Quite well, I thank you," I replied, — " how's
yours ? "

" Bless the Lord ! " he continued.

" Amen ! " I responded.

" You're an heir of damnation," said he in great
haste, after apparently measuring me from top to toe
with his eye.

" The idea seems to give you positive pleasure,"
observed I.

He looked at me again for a few moments, after
which he told me in great confidence that the sons of
Anak would be brought low. To this I replied
that, not knowing them, I could not be expected to
feel much interest in their fate.

He looked hard at me again for a few seconds, and
then shouted so as to attract the attention of the
passers-by — " You're a Scribe — you're a Scribe ! "

" Anything but a Pharisee," I replied, and walked
on, leaving him to make what application he pleased
of my response.

He was very successful in his agitation whither
soever he went, throwing town after town into
paroxysms of excitement, and securing in each a
great many converts for the nonce. The per-centage
of them who shortly afterwards became backsliders
was very great. It seemed to be his peculiar delight

272 THE WESTERN WORLD.

to vulgarize religion as much as he could, frequently
making use of similes which bordered on ribaldry,
and sometimes even on blasphemy. On one occasion,
being tired of the gospel, he betook himself to slan
der, telling his hearers in one breath to be forbearing
and to love one another, and in the next indulging in
the most uncharitable suspicions of his neighbours.
Amongst others whom he slandered was an hotel-
keeper, who also became the victim of the malicious
innuendos of his chief disciple. This gave rise to two
parties in the community, the enthusiasts rallying
round the Elder, and the " ungodly," as they were
termed, ranging themselves under the standard of the
injured party. The more orderly and decorous por
tion of the inhabitants kept themselves aloof from
both parties. At length the time of the Elder's
departure drew near, and it was known that his chief
disciple was to accompany him. A disturbance of
the public peace was apprehended, and the friends
of order advised them to depart secretly. This they
refused to do, persisting in their resolution to go at
the time fixed upon by the regular stage. The
morning of their departure was one of commotion
bordering on riot. The " ungodly " had procured a
wagon, which they filled with musicians, who rode
up and down the street in which the obnoxious in
dividuals were lodging, playing the Rogue's March.
It was not until they had both got into the stage and
were about to depart, that the disciple was arrested in
an action of slander, at the suit of the aggrieved inn
keeper, Both he and the Elder, as well as their
numerous abettors, gloried in this; it was persecution,
and of itself testified to the high origin of their
mission. Bail was soon procured, and the parties

THE WESTERN WORLD. 273

permitted to proceed on their way, the musicians
following them out of the town with no very compli
mentary airs. Some months afterwards the action
came on for trial in the same place. The Elder was
the chief witness on the part of the defendant. When
in the witness box, he was asked by the counsel for
the plaintiff, if he had not had reason to believe that
his departure, unless private, would occasion some
display inimical to the public peace? He said he had
been informed to that effect.

" Were you not advised to depart secretly ?" he
was asked.

" I was," replied he.

f< And why did you not do so?" was the next
query put to him.

" Because I was determined to have my way," he
replied, " and to let the devil have his."

In commenting upon this part of the evidence, the
counsel for the defendant emphatically approved of
the Elder's determination to make an open and public
exit from the town, even at the risk of a disturbance
of the peace, citing the conduct of Nehemiah in his
justification, who, when advised to fly from the ene
mies of the Lord, refused to do so. But the opposite
counsel was not to be put down by such authority as
this, and contended that if scriptural precedent was
to be relied upon, it must follow the rule of pre
cedents in other cases, which is that, ceteris paribus,
the latest shall rule. The case of St. Paul, he main
tained, was more binding because more recent than
that of Nehemiah, the great Apostle having been let
down from the walls of Damascus in a basket, when
his exit otherwise from the city might have involved
a violation of public order. In the sight of the

N3

274 THE WESTERN WORLD.

audience this gave the whole matter rather a ludicrous
turn, judges, jury, bar, and spectators smiling at the
retort. It was received by the community in the
same spirit, and treated as a good joke, and did much
towards undoing the effects of the Elder's preaching.
It is not always that revivals lead to such scenes, but
they are generally accompanied by a degree of fana
ticism and intolerance truly deplorable. They disturb
the peace of families and unsettle the ordinary rela
tions of society. Happily their effects are evanescent,
or they would be the more to be regretted. Nor are
they always so violent as some that 1 have seen.
Occasionally they are what would be denominated
failures, from being attempted when the public mind
is not in proper tune for them. The most decorous are
those which originate with the Presbyterians.

There are many in this country who fall into the
mistake of supposing that the voluntary system, as
developed in Americans utterly incompatible with that
degree of independence on the part of the clergy, which
is necessary to enable them efficiently to perform their
duties. Amongst others who have fallen into this
error is Lord John Russell, who, notwithstanding his
vast and varied information on other subjects, is gene
rally at fault when he undertakes to speak of the
United States. I have heard him in the House of
Commons illustrate his argument that voluntaryism,
was inconsistent with clerical independence, by allud
ing to the condition of the clergy in America, who,
he contended, were so utterly dependent for subsist
ence upon their flocks, that they dared not reprove
them in the manner in which a pastor should some
times deal with his people. If their language in the
pulpit, and their conduct in the performance of what

THE WESTERN WORLD. 275

may be designated as the more private duties of the
clergyman, are to be taken as affording an indication
of their independence or subserviency, it would not
be easy to find a bolder or less scrupulous set of
preachers than those who fill the American pulpits.
So far from dealing leniently with the shortcomings
of their congregations, they deal with them in a man
ner which many Englishmen would regard as decidedly
offensive. Whatever may be the vices of voluntary
ism in America, it cannot properly be alleged against
it that it muzzles the clergy.

I have already alluded to the number of religious
and benevolent schemes to which the various churches
in America very liberally contribute, as evidence of
their zeal. Farther proof of this is found in the fre
quency with which, in some instances, they give them
selves up to their religious duties. I have several
times heard announcements to the following effect
made from the pulpit on Sunday : " On Monday
evening the usual monthly prayer meeting in behalf
of foreign missions will be held, when a subscription
will be taken in aid of the missions. On Tuesday,
the Maternal Association will be held at Mrs. So-and-
so's. On Wednesday, the usual weekly service will
take place in the school-house adjoining the church.
On Thursday, the Dorcas Society will meet at
Mrs. — — 's. On Friday, will be held the ordinary
Sunday-school teachers' meeting ; and, on Saturday,
district prayer meetings will take place at — " (here
would follow a number of places in different dis
tricts). And all this in addition to three services on
Sunday, and a Sunday-school also to attend to. It
always appeared to me, on these announcements
being made, absorbing as they did every evening in
the week, that the fourth commandment ran great

276 THE WESTERN WORLD.

risk of being violated in its second clause, "six days
shalt thou labour and do all thy work."

American churches are in general neatly built, and
look very light and airy. In summer it is absolutely
essential that they should be well ventilated, as the
heat is often oppressive. There is scarcely a pew
but adds to its other appendages one or more large
feather fans, and the effect of seeing them all waving
at once, from the commencement to the end of the
service, is at first both striking and curious. After
using it for a few minutes one passes the fan to his or
her neighbour. In winter, again, the churches are, in
the north, well heated with stoves, in addition to
which many families bring with them small tin
stoves containing charcoal embers, with which they
keep their feet warm, passing them from one to the
other as they may be required. The pulpits are
quite a contrast to the confined boxes, generally
looking like casks, from which clergymen in this
country almost invariably address their hearers. The
American pulpit is more like the bench in a court of
justice, being almost always open at both sides, and
being sufficiently spacious to contain six or eight
clergymen at a time. In most of the Presbyterian
churches the congregations face the doors, so that a
stranger on entering finds himself confronting the
whole audience. This is at first rather awkward,
but it serves this good purpose, that the regular sitters
see him at once, and are ready on all sides to offer
him a seat. The attention thus paid to the stranger
in church is almost universal in America. Fre
quently have I seen a whole family leave their own
pew, and scatter themselves amongst their friends, in
order to accommodate a number of strangers entering
together and forming one party.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 277

Nor is the organ in America confined to the Epis
copal or Catholic churches ; it is to be found in the
Presbyterian, the Baptist, and the Methodist church,
whenever the means of the congregation enable them
to have it. Their having it, or not having it, is not a
matter of principle, but merely a question of ex
pense. This of itself would suffice to account for
the superiority of the music in the American
churches to that in the dissenting churches here.
But in addition to the possession of an organ, almost
every church has its choir, which is not composed of
hired musicians, but generally consists of the most
respectable members of the congregation, male and
female, capable of singing well. By introducing the
organ, the Americans very properly avail themselves
of a great aid to devotion, in doing which they set
a lesson both of prudence and good sense to their
self-righteous brethren in this country, who are mag
niloquent in the confession of their moral weaknesses,
but who, at the same time, repudiate everything
which might tend to strengthen them. The poor
rebellious heart of man frequently requires some
thing to solemnize and attune it for devotional exer
cises, and this he finds in the awe-inspiring aspect of
the cathedral, and in the deep tones of the organ
reverberating through the aisles. But some of our
modern Pharisees would counsel us to reject as spu
rious the devotional feelings originating from such
sources, and to trust like them to our own righteous
ness and to the strength of our own purposes. How
far this may be presumption, and the other course the
want of vital religion, let each judge for himself.

Notwithstanding the rivalry existing between sects
in America, they frequently manage to suppress it
to some extent so far as their teaching of the young

278 THE WESTERN WORLD.

is concerned. I have already shown how far secular
education has been divorced from sect, and rescued
from its obstructive influences. It is in the Sunday-
schools that the youthful mind is imbued with the
dogmas of sect, each denomination contenting itself,
so far as the education of youth is concerned, with
the influence which they obtain over them in these
schools. But the Protestant sects frequently unite
in Sunday-school demonstrations, when the children
from all the schools are collected together under
their teachers, and examined and addressed by the
clergy of the different denominations. I have some
times seen them marching in thousands to the largest
place of worship for this purpose. There they were,
embryo Christians, it was to be hoped, but certainly
the germs of future Baptists, Presbyterians, Me
thodists, New Lights and Old Lights, Congrega-
tionalists, Lutherans, &c.

In conclusion, let me remind the reader that, not
withstanding the hot race of competition which it
sometimes runs, and the social and individual tyranny
of which it is occasionally guilty, sect in America is
not the embittered and envenomed thing that it is in
this country. If voluntaryism has vices inseparable
from its very nature, they are not aggravated there,
as here, by extraneous causes already explained. It
may be over-zealous, fanatical, jealous, and sometimes
even malignant, in its manifestations ; but its evolu
tions are chiefly confined in America to the religious
arena, it being extremely seldom that it is found
stepping aside from its own sphere to jumble religion
and politics together, and to aggravate the odium theo-
logicum by adding to it the acerbities of political
contention.

CHAPTER X.

LOWELL. — MANUFACTURES AND MANUFACTURING
INTERESTS OF THE UNITED STATES.

Journey from New Haven to Worcester and Boston. — Proceed to
Lowell. — Appearance of Lowell. — Its rapid Growth.— Colonial
Manufactures. — Difficulties with which they had to contend. — Pro
gress of American Manufactures during the War of Independence,
and that of 1812. — Motive Power used in Lowell, and means of
employing it. — The Operatives of Lowell. — Educational and other
Institutions. — The different Manufacturing Districts of the Union.
— New England. — The Northern Atlantic States. — The Southern
Atlantic States. — The States on the Mississippi. — Distribution of
Manufacturing Capital throughout the Union. — Rise of Cotton
Manufacture in America. — Exports of Cotton Goods. — Progress of
other Manufactures. — Steam v. Water Power. — Comparative
strength of the Manufacturing and Agricultural Interests. — The
dream of Self-dependence. — The Future.

FROM New Haven I proceeded through the interior
of Connecticut to Worcester, in Massachusetts, and
thence direct, by railway, to Boston. Almost every
inch of this portion of New England is rich in colo
nial reminiscences ; the traveller constantly meeting
with objects which remind him of the time when the
early colonists were struggling for existence with the
Indians ; when, relieved from their common enemy,
they persecuted one another ; when the regicides lay
concealed amongst them ; when they entered into
defensive leagues against their enemies the French,
who overhung their northern border ; and when they
merged into that still mightier league, which embraced

280 THE WESTERN WORLD.

the greater part of the Atlantic sea-board, and gave
nationality and independence to half a continent.

Between Worcester and Boston the country now
looked very different from what it appeared when
I first passed over it on my way to Washington. It
was then arrayed in the garb of winter, but was now
clad in the warmer and more attractive habiliments
of autumn. The trees were beginning to lose their
freshness, and some of them had slightly changed
their colour ; but that transformation had not yet
been wrought in them which arrays in such brilliant
effects the last stages of vegetation in America for
the year. When the frost comes early, the change
is sometimes wrought almost in a night. To-day
the forest seems clothed in one extended mantle of
green — to-morrow, and it appears to have appro
priated to itself the celebrated coat of Joseph. The
change looks like the work of magic. The leaves are
"killed" by the frost during the night, and dyed in
their new colours by the sun of the succeeding
morning. When a large expanse of it can be com
manded by the eye, nothing can exceed in beauty
the American forest thus bedecked in its brilliant
robe of many colours.

The eastern portion of Massachusetts is very
flat, and is in this respect quite a contrast to its
western section, lying between the beautiful town of
Springfield and the Hudson. The soil is light, and
much of it is under pasturage. The vegetation
became more stunted as we approached the coast, and
we were surrounded by many of the indications which
usually mark a tract consisting of a marine deposit.

After remaining a few days in Boston, I proceeded
by railway to Lowell, the distance being about twenty-

THE WESTERN WOULD. 281

five miles. In point of construction, this line was
one of the best on which I had travelled in America.
The great majority of my fellow-travellers were New
Englanders, and not a few of them would have served
as specimens of the genuine Yankee. One cannot
fail to observe the tone and demeanour which dis
tinguish the population of this part of the country
from that inhabiting the south and west. They are
sober, sedate, and persevering; not restless and
impatient, like their more mercurial fellow-country
men.

I was seated beside a resident of Bangor, in the
State of Maine. Amongst other subjects of con
versation we canvassed the merits of the treaty of
Washington, by which the perilous question of the
north-eastern boundary was settled. In one thing we
were quite agreed, viz. in being both displeased with
the treaty; he asserting that Mr. Webster should not
have given up an inch of ground in Maine, and
I contending that Lord Ashburton went very un
necessarily out of his way to cede Rouse's Point to
the Republic. Thus, although we both came to the
same conclusion, that the treaty was indefensible, we
approached it from very different directions. He
was on the whole, however, well pleased that the
dispute had been peaceably settled. It was not the
territory in dispute, he said, that he cared for, but
the principle at issue. The land itself was worth
nothing, as he illustrated by assuring me that the few
who lived in it had, in winter, to be put into warm
water in the morning to " thaw their eyes open ! "
But he did not like the idea of his country being
bullied — which he thought she had been — notwith
standing the pains I had been at to show him that for

282 THE WESTERN WORLD.

what she lost in Maine, she had received far more
than an equivalent elsewhere ; and that peace, on our
part, would have been more cheaply purchased by
the simple concession of the line contended for as the
boundary of the State.

On approaching Lowell, I looked in vain for the
usual indications of a manufacturing town with us,
the tall chimneys and the thick volumes of black
smoke belched forth by them. Being supplied with
an abundant water power, it consumes but little coal
in carrying on its manufacturing operations, the bulk
of that which it does consume being anthracite and
not bituminous coal. On arriving I was at once struck
with the cleanly, airy and comfortable aspect of the
town; cheerfulness seeming to reign around, and
employment and competence to be the lot of all.

The town of Lowell, a creation as it were of yester
day, is situated on the south bank of the Merrimac,
close to the junction of the Concord with that stream.
Immediately above it are the falls of the Merrimac,
known as the Pawtucket Falls, and which supply the
town with the motive power for nearly all its ma
chinery. In 1820 Lowell was scarcely known as a
village, its population at that time not exceeding
200 souls. It is now, in little more than a quarter of
a century, the second city in Massachussetts in point
of size and wealth, and about the twelfth in the
United States. Its present population must exceed
30,000.

Until recently American manufactures have had
a very up-hill game to play. During the colonial
times the jealousy of the mother country threw
every obstacle in their way. Still they had in them
a germ of vitality which not only outlived every

THE WESTERN WORLD. 283

effort made to quench it, but which also enabled them
to expand, notwithstanding all the adverse influences
against which they had to contend. The imperial
legislation of the period would be ludicrous if it were
not lamentable, redolent as it was of the spirit of
monopoly and self-interest. Its whole object was to
make the colonist a consumer, and nothing else, of
articles of manufacture, confining his efforts at pro
duction to the business of agriculture. If a manu
facturing interest raised its head, no matter how
humbly, in any of the colonies, it was not directly
legislated down, it is true, but was immediately
surrounded by conditions and restrictions which,
in too many instances, sufficed to cripple and de
stroy it. The imperial mind seemed to be pecu
liarly jealous of the manufacture of hats ; an
epitome of the legislation in respect to which, if now
published, would scarcely be credited, were it not
that the whole is to be found in the Statutes at
Large. Of course, no hats of colonial manufacture
were allowed to cover a British head on what was
strictly speaking British ground. But not only were
the colonists disabled from exporting their hats to
England, they were also forbidden to export them to
the adjacent colonies. A hat made in New Jersey
was not only forbidden the English market ; it was
also a malum prohibitum in that of New York or Mas-
sachussetts. And to enhance as much as possible
their value in the colony in which they were manu
factured, it was forbidden to convey them from point
to point by means of horses. In carrying them to
market, therefore, the manufacturer had to take as
many upon his head or shoulders as he conveniently
could ; but to the ordinary modes of conveyance for

28 i THE WESTERN WORLD.

merchandise he could not resort without the violation
of an imperial act. This is a mere specimen of the
narrow-minded and sordid spirit in which our colonial
legislation was so long conceived. If it discovers any
consistent object throughout, it was that it might
render itself as odious and vexatious as possible to
those who were long in a position which rendered
any thing but submission hopeless. The wonder is
not that the Americans rebelled in 1776, but that
they bore the unnatural treatment to which they
were subjected so long. It was not the stamp act or
the tea tax that originated the American revolu
tion, but that feeling of alienation from the mother
country which had been for the previous century
gradually taking possession of the American mind.
These acts of parliament were but the pretext, not
the cause, of the outbreak. The mine was long
laid, they only set fire to the train.

Notwithstanding the many difficulties with which
they had to contend, colonial manufactures had taken
a firm hold on the continent for some time previous
to the epoch of the Revolution. That event, by
freeing them from all imperial restrictions, and throw
ing the American people for some time upon their
own resources, afforded them an opportunity by
which they failed not to profit. The revolted colonies
not only emerged from the war with an independent
political existence, but also with a manufacturing
interest exhibiting itself in unwonted activity at dif
ferent points, from the sources of the Connecticut to
the mouth of the St. Mary's. This interest steadily
progressed, with occasional checks, until the war of
1812, when the Republic was once more, as regarded
its consumption of manufactured articles, thrown to

THE WESTEKN WORLD. 285

a considerable extent, upon its own resources. So
much so was this the case, that large sections of the
country, where the maple was not abundant, had to
supply themselves with sugar made from the stalk of
the Indian corn. During the war, a large amount of
additional capital was invested in the business of
manufacturing, to which the three years from 1812
to 1815 gave an immense and an enduring stimulus.
Still, even as far down as 1816, the manufacturing
system in America had attained, as compared with
that of England, but a trifling development ; the
whole consumption of raw cotton by the American
looms for that year being but about half that now
consumed by those of Lowell alone, and not more
than one-eighth the annual consumption of England
at the same period. From that time, by adven
titious aids, the system has been forced into rapid
growth, until it now owns no rival but that of
England herself.

But as far down as 1816, Lowell, now the American
Manchester, was undreamt of. A few huts then
dotted the banks of the Merrimac, but the Paw-
tucket Falls had no interest but such as arose from
their scenic attractions. Indeed it was not until ten
years afterwards that the advantages of its site were
fully appreciated ; immediately on which the capital
of Boston was rapidly invested in it. And what has
been the result? The town of Lowell, with all its
wealth, industry, achievements, and prospects. In
twenty years its population increased one hundred
fold ; the value of its property during the same period
was enhanced one hundred and twenty fold. In 1820
its population, as already observed, was about 200 ;
the value of its property not above 100,000 dollars.

286 THE WESTERN WORLD.

In 1840 its population was 20,000, and its property
was assessed at 12,500,000 dollars.

It is supplied with motive power by means of a
broad and deep canal, proceeding from the upper level
of the Falls along the bank of the river; the ma
jority of the mills and factories being built between
this canal and the stream. The canal serves the pur
pose of a never-failing mill-dam to them all, each
drawing from it the supply of water necessary for the
working of its machinery. The motive power thus
placed at the disposal of capital is equal to the task
of turning about 300,000 spindles. In 1844 the
number in use did not exceed 170,000 ; there was
therefore power then wasted, sufficient to turn
130,000 more. But as new companies are constantly
springing up, a power so available will not long be
unemployed.

Almost all the mills in Lowell of any great size, are
owned by incorporated companies. A few years ago
there were eleven such companies, owning amongst
them no less than thirty-two mills, exclusive of print
and dye-works, and all supplied with power from the
canal. The chief of these is that known as the Merrimac
Company, which owns most of the valuable property
in the neighbourhood. To it belongs the canal itself,
the other companies, as it were, renting the use of it.
In addition to several large mills, the Merrimac Com
pany possesses a large machine establishment, in which
is manufactured the machinery used in most of the
other mills. In addition to the mills owned by the
companies, there are some factories of a miscellaneous
description, and on a comparatively small scale,
owned by private individuals. The great proprietary
company, from the very first, took good care that the

THE WESTERN WOKLD. 287

enterprise of others should not seriously compete
with it, by purchasing, when it could be procured at
a low rate, all the ground on both sides of the river
immediately below the Falls. It is in this way that
the other companies are not only dependent upon it
for their water power, but are also its lessees or
grantees, as regards the very sites on which their mills
are erected.

In 1844 there were upwards of 5,000 looms at work
in the establishments of the companies, who were
then employing nearly 10,000 people, of whom only
about one-fourth were males. Scarcely any children
were employed under fifteen years of age. The
average wages of a male were then from seventy-five
to eighty cents a day, or about four dollars eighty
cents a week, which make about a pound sterling.
Those of a female were from thirty to thirty-five cents
a day, or about two dollars a week, being 8s. 4td.
sterling. In many cases they were higher. The
wages here specified were, in both cases, received
exclusive of board.

In 1844 the aggregate produce of the different
companies amounted to about 60,000,000 yards of
cotton. This constituted their produce simply in
the shape of plain goods, their print and dye works
during the same year turning out upwards of
15,000,000 yards of printed cloth. The consumption
of raw cotton was close upon 20,000,000 Ibs. ; the
aggregate consumption of the Union during the same
year was nearly 170,000,000 Ibs. ; so that Lowell,
which as late as 1820 had no existence as a manu
facturing town, was consuming, in little more than
twenty years after its foundation, fully one-eighth of
all the raw cotton manufactured into fabrics in the

288 THE WESTERN WOULD.

United States. In 1816, as already intimated, the
whole consumption of the American looms did not
exceed 11,000,000 Ibs. By this time Lowell alone
must be consuming nearly treble that quantity.

The operatives in the different establishments are
paid their wages once a month, the companies, how
ever, paying their respective workmen on different
days, an arrangement which obviously serves more
than one good purpose. A great portion of the
wages thus monthly received is deposited in the
Savings' Bank, particularly by the females, who make
their work in Lowell a stepping-stone to a better
state of existence. After labouring there for a few
years they amass several hundred dollars, marry, and
go off with their husbands to the West, buy land,
and enjoy more than a competency for the remainder
of their days.

In all that conduces to the improvement of the
physical and moral condition of the operatives, the
companies seem to take a common interest, working
together to a common end. The mills are kept as
clean, and as well ventilated, as such establishments
can be, and their inmates, with but few exceptions,
appear in the best of health ; nor is there about
them that look of settled melancholy which so often
beclouds the faces of our own operatives. They are
comparatively light-hearted, their livelihood being less
precarious, and their future prospects far brighter, if
they will only improve their opportunities, than those
of the English factory-labourer.

Every attention is also paid in Lowell to the edu
cation, not only of the young, but also of the adults.
By economy of their time and means the women not
only manage to be instructed in the elementary

THE WESTERN WORLD. 289

branches of education, but also to be taught some of
the accomplishments of their sex. It would not be
easy to find a more acute and intelligent set of men
anywhere than are the artizans and mechanics of
Lowell. They have established an institution for
their mutual improvement, which is accommodated in
a substantial and handsome-looking edifice known as
Mechanics' Hall. There are other institutions on a
smaller scale, but of a kindred nature, in Lowell. It
also possesses eight grammar-schools, at which the
pupils who attend receive an excellent education. In
addition to this it has no less than thirty free public
schools, at which the children of the poorer classes
are educated. The number of children attending all
the schools is about 6,000, and this out of a popu
lation of about 30,000. As elsewhere in the Union,
the great business of secular education is harmo
niously promoted, without being marred and ob
structed by sectarian bigotry and jealousy. Even the
Catholics, who are numerous in Lowell, join with the
Protestants in the work, all parties wisely and pro
perly agreeing to forget their differences, in furthering
that in which they have a common interest, — the
education of the young.

Such is Lowell, the growth as it were of a night,
the quick result of arbitrary minimums ; the fond
ling of Boston capital, and the pet child of Ame
rican protection. If it does not owe its existence to
high tariffs, its unexampled progress is at least attri
butable to them. Two years after its incorporation
as a city, the almost prohibitive tariff of 1828 was
passed, which enabled Lowell at once to realise the
most sanguine expectations of its projectors. It was
no wonder that under the fostering influence of that

VOL. in. o

290 THE WESTERN WORLD.

tariff, the manufactures of America, both at Lowell
and elsewhere, rapidly developed themselves, seeing
that its effect was to secure by law to capital in
vested in a particular employment, a much larger
profit than it could count upon with any certainty
when otherwise employed. The rise of manufac
turing communities in other States as well as in
Massachussetts has been the consequence, — the
manufacturing capitalist finding himself everywhere
rapidly enriched by act of Congress at the expense
of the consumer. The plethoric corporations of
Lowell owing their success to protection, it is no
wonder that they should take the lead in its advo
cacy. When the Compromise bill expired in 1842,
they managed to secure the enactment of a tariff
more stringent in its provisions, and consequently
more favourable to themselves, than that which had
existed for the previous ten years. The injustice to
the consumer of the fiscal system established in that
year became so manifest in 1846, that it was at
length overthrown to make way for the revenue
tariff of that year. The manufacturers fought hard
in its defence, but in vain. Massachussetts took the
lead on their side, Lowell led Massach assets, the
Merrimac Company led Lowell, and Mr. Apple-
ton led the Company. But the consumers had got
their eyes opened, and saw no reason why they
should any longer be taxed in addition to what they
were willing to pay for the support of the Govern
ment, for the benefit of Massachussetts, Lowell, the
Merrimac Company, or Mr. Appleton. The fight,
however, was a severe one, and if the free-trade
party triumphed on the occasion, it was only by just
escaping a defeat.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 291

Although Lowell is, perhaps, the spot in which is
concentrated the greatest amount of manufacturing
energy, and in which the largest investment of capital
has been made for the sole purpose of manufacturing,
it forms but a single point in the general survey of
the industrial system of America. There is scarcely
a State in the Union in which manufactures of some
kind or other have not sprung up. The system has
as yet obtained but a partial development west of the
Alleganies, but most of the sea-board States present
to the observer numerous points characterised by
great industrial activity. Massachussetts is undoubt
edly preeminent in the extent to which she has
identified herself with manufactures, in the proper
acceptation of the term. In 1846 the capital in
vested in the business of manufacture in that State
must have amounted to from fifty to sixty millions of
dollars. In 1837 the amount invested was upwards of
fifty-two millions, and the value of the manufactures
produced was above eighty-five millions. Between that
period and 1842, that is to say, during the last five years
of the existence of the Compromise Act, there were
no great additional investments made, the operation
of that Act not being such, as regarded home fabrics,
as to induce capitalists to turn their attention exten
sively to the business of manufacture. At the same
time there was great uncertainty as to the commercial
policy which would be pursued on the expiration of
the Act, which served as an additional drawback to
such an investment of capital. But on the passing
of the high tariff act of 1842, when the Union in
its economical policy appeared to be reverting to the
order of things established in 1828, home manufac
tures being protected against serious competition,
o~2

292 THE WESTERN WORLD.

and manufacturing capital being virtually guaranteed
large returns by Congress itself, great additions were
made to that capital ; so that the amount now
employed in Massachussetts cannot fall much short of
sixty millions of dollars. Whether the low tariff
bill of 1846 has caused any withdrawal of capital, or
checked the increase of capital invested in manufac
tures, I cannot say. But although Massachussetts
may thus claim the lead as the chief manufacturing
State, she is behind one of the sisterhood of States, at
least, in the amount of capital invested in industrial
pursuits, in the broader sense of the term.

When the manufacturing districts of the Union
are spoken of, the States of New England are gene
rally alluded to. They are six in number, and are
all more or less employed in the business of manu
facture. Maine, the most northerly of these, has
extensive works for the production of cotton and
woollen fabrics, together with several paper mills, and
cast-iron works. There is also a great quantity of
yarn and coarse cloth produced at the houses of the
farmers and others, whilst there are numerous esta
blishments throughout the State engaged, each to
a small extent, in miscellaneous manufacture. The
capital thus invested in Maine in 1846, must
have amounted in all to nine millions of dollars.
New Hampshire, which lies to the west of it, is,
perhaps, better provided with water-power than any
other State in the Union. Of this it has already
taken advantage to such an extent as to threaten
Massachussetts with a formidable rivalry. In Nashua,
Dover, and other places, cotton and woollen factories
have rapidly sprung up, and there is scarcely a county
in the State but presents its own little focus of

THE WESTERN WORLD. 293

manufacturing activity. Some of the more far-seeing
statesmen of the revolutionary epoch predicted that
New Hampshire would yet owe her prosperity chiefly,
if not exclusively, to the system of manufactures
which would spring up within her limits. She is in
full career to fulfil their predictions, and Massachus-
setts will have a hard struggle to keep up with her
more rugged sister. The water-power of Massachussetts
is confined to a few localities, whereas, from its broken
and mountainous character, that of New Hampshire
is diffused throughout its length and breadth.

The State of Vermont, which lies to the west of
New Hampshire, is also abundantly supplied with
water-power, the same system of mountains traversing
them both. The former, however, is far behind the
latter State in industrial enterprise. The amount of
capital at present invested in manufactures in Ver
mont, cannot much exceed five millions of dollars. And
yet from her position, Lake Champlain bounding her
for its whole length on the west, and opening up
a highway for her to the north and the south, one
would have expected greater things from her in this
respect. Passing over Massachussetts, which we have
already considered in this connexion, we come to the
little State of Rhode Island, the miscellaneous manu
facturing industry of which at present employs a
capital of about twelve millions of dollars. Cottons
and woollens are its chief products ; the number of
its woollen manufactories having been in 1840 no less
than forty-one, and that of its cotton mills two
hundred and nine. From the richness of some of the
valleys which intersect it, particularly that of the
Connecticut, the State of Connecticut is proportion
ately more extensively engaged in agriculture than

294 THE WESTERN WORLD.

any of the other States of New England. But she
is not deficient in manufacturing enterprise, her
capital invested in manufactures being about fifteen
millions of dollars.

The capital now employed for manufacturing pur
poses in the six New England States, is upwards of
one hundred millions of dollars.

Leaving New England, the State which, both from
its position and the extent to which it has engaged in
the business of manufacture, first attracts attention, is
New York. It is abundantly supplied with water-
power, which has been turned, more or less, to good
account, in various districts of the State. This water-
power is not only derived from the rapid changes of
level which take place in the channels of most of its
rivers, but is in part produced by the Erie canal, the
waste water of which, in addition to irrigating and
fertilizing the country in many parts where water is
much required, supplies the power by which ma
chinery may be driven. The chief seats of New York
manufacture are Rochester and the neighbourhood
of Lockport. The almost inexhaustible water-power
with which the rapids and the Falls of the Genesee
supply the former place, has as yet been chiefly
applied to the manufacture of flour ; but factories of
different kinds are rapidly springing up in it, and its
annual production is now of a very miscellaneous
character. Small arms and tools of all descriptions
are produced here to a great extent, and some of the
largest tanneries of the State are on the banks of the
Genesee. Above the falls, the water-power supplied
by the rapids has been turned to account on both
sides of the river, a succession of huge stone edifices,
erected for different manufacturing purposes, con-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 295

fronting each other on either bank. But below the
upper fall, the two sides of the river have, as at
Lowell, been monopolized by those who turn the
available water-power to account on but one bank.
The mills and factories erected immediately below
the fall, on the Genesee, occupy successive sites on
its left bank, each being supplied with the power re
quired to drive its machinery from a common canal,
which, like the Pawtucket canal, has its origin at the
upper level of the fall, and in its course hems the
mills in between it and the river. The water drawn
from this canal, after turning the wheels of the dif
ferent mills, falls in numerous cascades down the bank
in reaching the lower level. A great power is thus
wasted, the water, in some cases, being capable of
being used three different times before it attains the
level of the stream below the fall. With the excep
tion of one flour-mill, there is no manufacturing
establishment on the opposite bank, which is owned
in common by the mill owners on the left side of the
river, and which cannot be either sold or leased for
manufacturing purposes of any kind, without the
consent of all. There is a double purpose to be
served by this arrangement — to keep down compe
tition, and to prevent too large a draught upon the
water-power afforded by the river, which sometimes,
during the protracted heats of summer, becomes so
low as for a few weeks scarcely to supply sufficient
motive power for the establishments on the left bank.
But from the rapids above the upper, to the end of
those below the lower falls, the volume of the Genesee
is capable of being used by different groups of mills
and factories, ten times over, before it reaches the
level of Lake Ontario. As yet, it is only the upper

296 THE WESTERN WORLD.

fall, with the rapids above it, that has been turned ex
tensively to account.

At Lockport, manufactures have taken a different
turn from that which they have as yet mainly taken
at Rochester. At the former place cloths of different
kinds form the chief product of the mills. The
coarse cotton fabric, which is known as Lockport
Factory, has attained a very wide celebrity, and is
extensively consumed, not only on the American side
of the lakes, but also in Canada. It is a heavy bodied
fabric, and competes successfully not only with English
products of a similar texture, but also with those of
New England. New York also manufactures paper
to a great extent. The whole amount of manufac
turing capital employed by her, must now be above
sixty millions of. dollars. This, however, is employed
in the most miscellaneous production, the amount in
vested in manufactures, in the ordinary sense of the
term, being much less in New York than in Massa-
chussetts.

About fifteen miles from the city of New York,
stands the manufacturing town of Paterson in the
State of New Jersey. It is beautifully situated upon
the banks of the Passaic River, a little below the
Falls of Passaic, where the river takes a perpendicular
plunge of about seventy-two feet. A canal from the
upper level supplies the town with the water-power
which it uses, a power which has as yet been but
partially turned to account. There are a few woollen
factories in Paterson, but its chief product is in the
form of cotton fabrics of different textures, the num
ber of cotton-mills being about twenty, having nearly
50,000 spindles at work amongst them. The capital
invested in manufactures of all kinds in the town,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 297

amounts to about two millions of dollars. The town
which ranks next in this State, in point of importance,
as regards miscellaneous manufacture, is Newark,
about nine miles from New York. At Trenton much
paper is made. The total amount of capital now
employed in manufactures in the State of New Jersey,
is but little under thirteen millions of dollars.

As regards manufacturing in its ordinary accepta
tion, Pennsylvania falls considerably behind both
Massachussetts and New York. But if we take the
amount of capital invested in industrial pursuits of
all kinds in Pennsylvania, exclusive of commerce,
and inclusive not only of her mining operations, but
also of the amount of money invested in the construc
tion of public works, with a view chiefly to rendering-
available her enormous mineral resources, that State,
if she does not take the lead of all, will certainly fall
behind none other in the confederacy. No less than
thirty-four millions of dollars have been invested in
canals and railways, chiefly designed to facilitate the
transportation of coal from the vast coal fields of the
State to tide-water. As far back as 1840, Penn
sylvania possessed upwards of 100 cotton factories,
working amongst them about 150,000 spindles. But
it is evident, when we consider the character of her
resources, that the manufactures of this State will
not, for some time to come at least, enter very
seriously into competition with those of New England.
The product which will chiefly spring from the
manufacturing energy of Pennsylvania, will be iron,
in every shape in which it can be produced. She has
got the ore in abundance in her hills and mountains,
and the fuel in equal abundance required to convert
it to practical purposes. The amount of capital now
o3

298 THE WESTERN WOELD.

employed in industrial pursuits in Pennsylvania, ex
clusive of that invested in works mainly designed for
the development of the vast mineral resources of the
State, is about forty millions of dollars.

The amount of manufacturing capital employed by
the little State of Delaware, is about a million and a
half of dollars, of which nearly one-fourth is invested
in cotton factories, there being eleven in the State,
with nearly £5,000 spindles amongst them.

I do not stop here to inquire whether slavery has
had anything to do with the retardation of Maryland
in regard to manufactures or not, but certain it is
that she has not turned her opportunities to the same
account as so many of her northern sisters have done
with theirs. She is not only abundantly supplied with
water-power both by the Potomac and the Patapsco,
but both these streams present her with available water-
power, close to tide-water. At Harper's Ferry, the
power offered by the rapids of the Potomac, both to
Maryland and Virginia — for it runs between the two
States — is immense; whilst about fifteen miles from
Washington the falls of the river afford them both, in
almost inexhaustible supply, this great element of
manufacturing industry. But both States seemed
content to sleep over their opportunities until the
adventurous spirit of northern enterprise led parties
from the North to purchase the property in the
neighbourhood of the falls. It has since, as already
mentioned, been laid out into land and water lots,
with the no very happy baptism of South Lowell.
The advantages of its site will, therefore, not go
much longer unimproved. In addition to this there
are available rapids on the Potomac at Georgetown,
close to Washington and tide-water, as there are

THE WESTERN WORLD. 299

also on the Patapsco, about ten miles above Baltimore.
The valley of this latter river is the chief seat of
Maryland manufacture. About twenty miles above
Baltimore are several cotton, woollen, and flouring
establishments ; whilst some distance lower down the
river are iron -works and rolling-mills on a large scale.
At the latter, railway iron is now rolled in great
quantities. There are from twenty to twenty-five
cotton factories in the State, whilst the capital em
ployed in manufactures of all kinds is below eight
millions of dollars.

Virginia is also backward in the business of manu
facture, as compared with what she might have done
in this respect. She has a bountiful share of the
water-power common to all the Atlantic States. It
is chiefly at Richmond, her capital, that she has as
yet taken advantage of it, the manufactures of which
have already been alluded to. Her cotton factories
do not exceed in number two dozen ; the spindles
which they have amongst them not amounting to
50,000. Flour and tobacco figure largely amongst the
articles of manufacture produced by this State. The
total amount of the manufacturing capital of Virginia
does not exceed twelve millions of dollars.

Every effort has lately been made by the North to
infuse a manufacturing spirit into the Virginians.
Not that it was desirous of rearing up any formidable
opposition to itself in the South, but that, by render
ing Virginia a manufacturing State, the North would
secure her vote on all questions affecting protection
to home fabrics, an accession of strength which would
render it irresistible in the national councils. But
the Virginians are in this respect inert materials to
work upon, and the North will find it more to its

300 THE WESTERN WORLD.

purpose to transfer a portion of its capital to the
banks of the James River and the Potomac, than to
confine itself to stimulating the Virginians to manu
facturing enterprise. Indeed this is being already
done; many Northerners having already entered
Virginia, with a view to turning its vast and long-
neglected resources to account ; and it is not unlikely
that, ere long, Richmond will be doubled in size,
wealth, and importance, by the influx of northern
capital to the banks of the James. The Northerner
has an additional inducement to the adventure, in the
fact that free has been found more profitable in the
business of manufacture than slave labour, even in Vir
ginia herself. The experiment has been tried in the
immediate vicinity of Richmond. One of the large
factories on the opposite bank of the river is entirely-
worked by white operatives, and the result has told
against the system of employing slave labour in the
factory. 1 was interested, considering the latitude in.
which I then was, to see, on the dinner-bell ringing,
crowds of white men, women, and children emerging
from the factory, as if it had been in Paterson or
Lowell, instead of in sight of Richmond. It speaks
volumes of the want of enterprise which characterises
the Virginians, that although one of the finest bitu
minous coal-beds in the Union, both on account of
its supply and its availability, is within a few miles
from the capital, it is worked by an English com
pany. The largest iron-work in the town is worked
by Welshmen, whilst Scotchmen are, or till very
lately have been, the chief merchants of the place.

The manufactures of North Carolina are, and ever
have been, on a limited scale — coarse cotton cloth,
designed for negro wear, being the chief product of

THE WESTERN WORLD. 301

her mills, which are upwards of twenty in number,
with nearly 50,000 spindles. The whole capital em
ployed by her in the business of manufacture falls
under four millions of dollars.

South Carolina employs about the same amount of
capital in a similar way, her chief product in the shape
of manufacture being also the coarse Osnaburg cloth,
in which the negroes are almost exclusively clad. It
is generally made of the roughest part of the cotton
crop, such indeed as cannot be exported ; and as the
quantity of the raw material that enters into it is
great, as well as its quality inferior, the New England
looms cannot compete in the Southern markets with
this domestic fabric. The factories of South Carolina,
which are all on a small scale, also produce a con
siderable quantity of yarn. There are likewise about
half-a-dozen iron factories in the State. Those en
gaged in the production of cotton yarn and coarse
cloths are not so profitable as they were some years
back, but still return a larger per-centage upon the
capital employed than is realized by those who are
occupied in the production of the great staples of the
State. The factories of South Carolina are chiefly
confined to its midland district, which is intersected
by the ridge of low sand hills already alluded to, from
which a never-failing supply of water is procured.

The State of Georgia comes next in order. It has
about twenty cotton factories, producing yarns- and
negro clothing. The amount of capital employed in
these and other factories is about three millions of
dollars. The profitable character of the coarse cotton
manufactures of the South may be appreciated from
the fact, that the Richmond factory, in Georgia,
established by a joint-stock company in 1833, aver-

302 THE WESTERN WORLD.

aged, down to 1844, an annual profit of 18 per cent,,
and for two years afterwards 25 per cent. Again,
the Columbus factory, established in 1834, paid no
thing for the first four years, the parties managing it
being confessedly wanting in skill and experience.
Since 1838, however, it has well made up for the
want of profits for these years, the average profits
since that year having been 20 per cent. The Roswell
factory has also paid 20 per cent, since 1839, the date
of its establishment.

In Alabama, similar establishments have netted
25 per cent, profit, after allowing for bad debts. The
capital employed in manufactures in this State is
about three millions of dollars.

The cotton manufactures of the State of Mississippi
are almost too insignificant to notice. The State
applies about two millions of dollars to the purposes
of miscellaneous manufacture.

The manufacturing enterprise of Louisiana is prin
cipally applied to the production of sugar, which is
its great and most profitable product. It has almost
entirely abandoned the growth of cotton for the cul
tivation of the cane. The capital invested in it in
manufactures is about eight millions of dollars.

Florida is yet destined to be the active rival of
Louisiana in the production of the cane and the
manufacture of sugar. But as yet every interest is,
in that State, like the State itself, in its infancy.

The total amount of capital now employed for the
purposes of manufacture, including that of articles of
every kind, in the different States in the valley of the
Mississippi, exclusive of the States of Mississippi
and Louisiana, is fully forty-five millions of dollars.
Of this aggregate amount, Ohio employs the largest

THE WESTERN WORLD. 303

share, the capital invested in manufactures in that
State alone being eighteen millions. Kentucky comes
next, with a capital of six millions. Indiana follows
with five millions, arid Tennessee and Illinois come
next, each with about four; Michigan and Missouri
follow, with about three millions and a half and three
millions respectively ; and they are followed by Wis
consin with about 700,000 dollars ; Arkansas with
about 500,000 ; and Iowa with scarcely ^00,000.
These last, however, are, like Florida, as yet infant
States, their different interests having scarcely had
time to take a definite shape since their admission
into the Union.

It will thus be seen that, in its diversified phases,
the industrial, as contradistinguished from the , agri
cultural interest, has widely, if not universally, esta
blished itself in America. The chief seats of manu
facture, however, are to be found in New England,
and in the States of New York, New Jersey, Penn
sylvania, and Ohio. "We may also here include
Maryland and Virginia. Manufactures have as yet
taken but a slender hold of the bulk of the valley of
the Mississippi, or of the States south of Chesa
peake Bay on the Atlantic, and those on the Mexican
Gulf. But it is their ubiquity that gives such homo
geneity to the protective principle in America. Were
they confined to the Northern section of the Union,
and the cultivation of the raw material were alone
the occupation of the South, we might expect to
find the free-trade and protectionist parties separated
from each other by a geographical line. But they
are not so confined ; and small though the manufac
turing interest as yet is, in point of numbers and
capital employed, in such States as North and South
Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi, and

304 THE WESTERN WORLD.

almost all the States in the valley, it manages, in
conjunction with party predilections, to give the pro
tectionists a good footing even in the States whose
chief business is the production of the great staple of
the South. Thus there is many a Whig in the
South who might not be a protectionist, but for the
presence in his own State of an interest to protect, at
the same time that the pressure of that interest upon
him may be so small, the interest itself being com
paratively so, that but for being a Whig he would not
yield to it. It is the two combined that throw him
into the arms of the Northern capitalists, running
counter, as he does, in every vote which he gives in
their favour, to the general -interests of the South.
The Southern Whigs feel this double pressure upon
them, that of party and that of a local manufacturing
interest, very irksome and injurious to them politically;
and there are not a few of them who would joyfully
accept of a final settlement of the tariff question,
even were it of the most ultra free-trade kind, pro
vided it were only final.

The following statements will serve to show the
distribution of manufacturing capital and energy
throughout the United States. I take the figures
from Mr. M'Gregor's invaluable work, entitled " The
Progress of America," to which I am indebted for
many of the statistical illustrations with which I have
endeavoured to show how rapid has been the indus
trial development of the Union. In 1840, the total
capital invested in manufactures throughout the
United States was close upon 268,000,000 of dollars.
Of this aggregate amount New York alone em
ployed from 55,000,000 to 56,000,000, Massachusetts
42,000,000 and Pennsylvania 32,000,000, in round
numbers. Next in order came Ohio, with from

THE WESTERN WORLD. 305

16,000,000 to 17,000,000 invested in manufacture ;
after which followed Connecticut with 14,000,000,
New Jersey and Virginia with from 11,000,000 to
12,000,000 each, New Hampshire with 10,000,000,
and Maine with upwards of 7,000,000. It is unneces
sary to pursue the comparison further. From this it
will be seen, that as regards capital invested in manu
facture in its most extensive signification, New York
took the lead, being followed by Massachussetts,
Pennsylvania, Ohio, Connecticut, New Jersey, and
Virginia. And this is, perhaps, the order in which
they still range, each State having undoubtedly added
largely to its capital during the eight years that have
intervened. But if we take the term "manufactures" in
its stricter and more limited acceptation, we find that
the order in which the States follow each other is
greatly changed.

Let us see how the case stands with regard to
cotton manufactures. The total capital invested
in this branch of industry, in 1840, was from
51,000,000 to 52,000,000, about one-fifth of the
total capital invested in manufactures generally.
Of this aggregate amount, from 17,000,000 to
18,000,000 belonged to Massachussetts alone, from
7,000,000 to 8,000,000 to Rhode Island, nearly
6,000,000 to New Hampshire, about 5,000,000 only
to New York, and from 3,000,000 to 4,000,000 to
Pennsylvania. New York, which took the lead in
the other case, is here only fourth in the scale, the
order in which the States stand, in reference to the
amount of capital respectively employed by them in
the manufacture of cotton being, Massachussetts,
Rhode Island, New Hampshire, New York, Penn
sylvania, &c. As regards the capital employed in

306 THE WESTERN WORLD.

the manufacture of woollen goods, the order is again
changed, Massachussetts, however, still retaining the
lead. The total amount of capital invested, in 1840,
in this branch of manufacture was, in round numbers,
16,000,000 of dollars. Massachussetts owned up
wards of one-fourth of the whole, New York a
little more than one-fifth, Connecticut about an
eighth, and Pennsylvania scarcely one-eleventh. The
value of goods produced during the year was nearly
21,000,000 of dollars, the different States producing
pretty much in the proportion of the capital employed
by them. The value of the cotton goods pro
duced during the same year was but a little above
46,000,000.

The total amount of capital invested in manufac
tures of all kinds in 1848, was very nearly 350,000,000
of dollars, being an increase of nearly 100,000,000
of dollars, or about 40 per cent, in eight years. The
capital invested in cotton manufactures last year
amounted to about 64,000,000, being an increase of
about 12,000,000, or about 25 per cent, during the
same period. This does not look as if the tariff of
1846 was destructive to the American manufacturing
interest. There was employed during the same year
in leather manufactures no less than 33,000,000 of
dollars. The value of cotton goods produced in 1848
was close upon 58,000,000 of dollars, being an in
crease of about 12,000,000, or about 27 per cent,
upon the production of 1840. The increase in the
production of woollen goods has not been so great ;
still the gross produce is greater than in 1840. The
quantity of leather manufactured last year in the
United States is valued at 42,000,000.

It was not until after the revolutionary war that

THE WESTERN WOULD. 307

the cotton manufactures of America made any de
cided progress. All efforts at their establishment
previously to that period had been, more or less,
failures. Since 1790, however, they slowly pro
gressed until 1816, after which they became very
rapidly developed, having increased about sixteen-
fold between that year and 1844. The chief exports
of American cotton goods have been to the American
markets. The export trade of the fabric has ex
hibited the most violent fluctuations. The exports,
in this particular, to Mexico have fallen off greatly
since 1839. During that year the Mexican markets
absorbed the white and coloured goods of the Union
to the value of 1,335,000 dollars, whereas, in 1843,
the importation of American cottons of all kinds into
Mexico did not exceed in value 198,000 dollars.
The exports to Central America have also fluctuated
very much, amounting as they did in 1840 to nearly
three times as much as in 1843. The trade with
Chili, during the same period, also exhibited a de
crease. Until 1841, that with Brazil steadily in
creased, but declined from that year to 1843. The
same fluctuation is discernible if we take the aggre
gate exports of cotton goods from 1826 to 1843.
They were higher in 1831 than in 1843. It was in
1841 that they reached the highest point, being then
in value from 12,000,000 to 13,000,000 of dollars.
In 1842 they declined to a little over 9,000,000, and
in 1843, to below 7,000,000.

The woollen manufactures of America have pro
gressed but slowly as compared with those of cotton.
They are almost exclusively produced for home con
sumption, the quantity of woollen goods exported
being exceedingly small.

The manufacture of silk has also made considerable

308 THE WESTERN WORLD.

progress in the United States. Some years ago there
was a great deal of speculation in connexion with this
branch of industry. Millions of dollars were invested
in mulberry-trees, with a view to the culture of silk,
the belief having taken possession of the public mind
that the silkworm could be reared in America from
Maine to Georgia. The mania did not last long, but
much money was lost during its prevalence. Since
that time the silk manufacture of America has re
mained almost stationary, having enjoyed for some
years afterwards rather a bad reputation. The State
of Ohio produces a good deal of silk, specimens of
which I have frequently seen. It is, as well may be
supposed, a very inferior article, and it will be long
ere America produces any silk fabrics to which a
more flattering epithet can be applied.

The iron manufactures of America have already
been cursorily alluded to, in treating of the mining
interests of Pennsylvania. The total capital invested
in connexion with the working of iron, including
mining, casting, forging, &c., is upwards of 25,000,000
of dollars, In lead, more than 2,500,000 are invested,
which capital is chiefly employed in working the
mines at Galena.

Paper forms a not unimportant item in the sum
total of American manufactures. The capital em
ployed in producing it is upwards of 5,000,000.

In the manufacture of flour and oil, and in the
sawing of timber, upwards of 75,000,000 of dollars
are invested. The number of barrels produced per
annum by the different flouring-mills in the country,
is from 8,000,000 to 9,000,000. The mills themselves
are nearly 5,000 in number; whilst of saw-mills there
are upwards of 30,000 in the United States.

In estimating the manufacturing facilities possessed

THE WESTERN WORLD. 309

by the United States, many put foremost in the cata
logue its almost infinite water-power. But there
are others who believe that, for factories producing
most classes of goods, steam, where it can be gene
rated at little cost, is preferable to water-power.
This may be all very true as regards very large mills,
requiring heat for certain processes, which heat may
be obtained from the steam after it has served its
purpose in driving the machinery ; but it is evident
that but for the water-power in which the country
abounds, the great bulk of the small factories occu
pying remote positions would not have had an exist
ence. Steam, even in the most favourable localities
for generating it, may be more expensive than water
as a simple motive power ; but there is this in favour
of steam, that the factory employing it can be built
where everything required about an establishment of
the kind may be had readily and cheaply. There are
many factories now employing steam, in the imme
diate vicinity of good available water-power. One of
the largest manufacturing establishments in America,
that known as the Gloucester Mills, situated on the
New Jersey bank of the Delaware, a little below
Philadelphia, employs steam as its motive power. It
is the consideration, that even in America, where
water-power is so abundant, steam may be advan
tageously employed in the business of manufacture,
that leads one to anticipate for Philadelphia, which is
so favourably situated for a supply of coal, the destiny
of being yet the greatest manufacturing emporium of
the continent.

But enough has been said to show how extensive
and varied is the manufacturing interest of the Union.
It is an interest which has in itself all the essential

310 THE WESTERN WOBLD.

elements of progression ; and which will yet, in its
onward course, attain a momentum which will enable
it to dispense with the adventitious props for which
it is now so clamorous in the way of protection. The
germ has been, as yet, but laid of the manufacturing
system which is destined to permeate America ; and
if we are to judge of its future progress from its
past achievements, the time cannot be far distant ere
it attains a colossal magnitude.

It has, therefore, not been a weak interest against
which the agriculturists, including the cotton-growers,
have had to struggle. Not that the manufacturers
are as strong in point either of numbers or of capital
as the agriculturists, but they are combined and work
together ; whereas the agriculturists generally exhibit
a want of combination and of a common under
standing with one another, when it is most important
for them to have both. Not a little of the political
success of the manufacturers is attributable to their
superior shrewdness, adroitness, and perseverance. If
the two classes are measured by the extent of their
interests, the agriculturists will be found to eclipse
their rivals. In the six States of New England,
together with New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey,
Delaware, and Maryland, this is certainly not the
case, the value of the annual manufactures of these
States considerably exceeding the value of their
annual agricultural produce. But if we take the
remaining nineteen States of the Union, the value of
their agricultural produce so far exceeds that of their
manufactures, that, taking all the States together, the
balance in point of interest is largely with the agri
culturists. Thus the crops produced last year by
the States first named, amounted in value to about

THE WESTERN WOULD. 311

216,000,000 of dollars. Their gross manufactures
are valued at 252,000,000. This leaves a balance of
upwards of 30,000,000 in favour of the manufacturer.
But in the other States the crops produced are valued
at 356,000,000, whereas the value of their manu
factures does not exceed 90,000,000. This leaves a
balance of upwards of 260,000,000 in favour of the
agriculturist. The value of the whole crop of the
Union is thus above 560,000,000, that of its gross
manufactured products a little above 340,000,000,
leaving, on the whole, a balance in favour of the
agriculturist of no less than 220,000,000. In addition
to this, the value of agricultural exports far exceeds
that of manufactured articles exported. In 1840
the value of all the exports of the Union did not
exceed 113,000,000 of dollars. Of this sum no less
than 92,000,000 represented the value of agricultural
products exported. Last year, the value of the
aggregate exports reached the enormous amount of
154,000,000. Of this a still larger proportion was
the value, exclusively, of agricultural productions.
Whatever may be the fate of the export trade as re
gards manufactures, that in connexion with produce
is destined largely and rapidly to increase. It is
therefore the great source of wealth to the country.
It seems singular, therefore, that the agricultural
interest should have suffered itself to be so fre
quently sacrificed to its less important rival. But
the dazzling vision of an " American system,"
with national self-dependence, sufficed for a long
time to mislead the agricultural mind as to its true
interests.

I have observed, in a previous chapter, that the
interests of the commercial classes are as muchidenti-

312 THE WESTERN WORLD.

fied with free trade as are those of the agriculturists.
To this the commercial classes in Boston certainly
offer an exception, and this exception has been fre
quently forced upon the farmers as a proof that all
classes in the community had a common interest in a
high tariff — in other words, in protection. It is
quite true that the leading merchants in Boston
generally side with the manufacturers; but it would
be erroneous thence to infer that the commercial
classes of the Union are identified with them either
in feeling or in interest. The leading Boston mer
chants are peculiarly situated, either having them
selves shares in the manufacturing establishments at
Lowell and elsewhere, or having fathers, mothers,
brothers, sisters, aunts or uncles that have. They
are thus more or less in the same boat with the
manufacturers ; and the same may indeed be said of
the agricultural classes of the State of Massachus-
setts, who are extensively employed during the
winter, as already intimated, in the rather incon
gruous occupation of making boots and shoes. This
enables Massachusetts to exhibit a wonderful una
nimity on the subject of protection, farmers, manu
facturers, merchants and ship-owners all appearing to
clamour for it. This seeming identity of interest has
imposed not a little upon the farmers elsewhere, who
did not take into account the peculiar position of
parties in Massachussetts.

A remarkable exception in this respect to the majo
rity of the leading merchants of Boston was presented
in the person of Mr. Philip Homer, himself for a long
time extensively engaged in that city as an importer
on a large scale. He was, fortunately, untrammelled
by any connexion with the manufacturers, which, com-

THE WESTERN WOULD. 313

bined with his quick perception and strong good
sense, enabled him to take a clear and unbiassed
view of the general interests. He was an ardent
free-trader, and on retiring from business, went
through the country, doing everything in his power
to disseminate his views. In 1846, when the tariff
bill was under discussion, he procured the use of one
of the committee-rooms of the capitol, in which to
exhibit rival patterns of British and American manu
facture. He put patterns of equal texture together,
showing the difference between their prices ; and pat
terns of equal price together, showing that between
their textures. Partly to neutralize the effect pro
duced by this exhibition, which was anything but
favourable to the pretensions of the American manu
facturer, and partly to overawe Congress by a great
practical argument, which they hoped would have more
weight than those of a mere speculative kind, they
determined on holding their ordinary annual fair that
year at Washington. Preparations were accordingly
made on a most extensive scale for the exhibition.
A temporary wooden building was erected for the
purpose, in the form of a T, its area being about
double that of Guildhall. To this, goods of all kinds,
exclusively the produce of domestic industry, were
forwarded. In the course of about ten days it was
filled with articles of different descriptions, and
thrown open to the public. The display was im
posing in the extreme, and he would be as bold as
he would be unfair who would deny that it was
most creditable to American enterprise and skill.
But it failed in producing the desired effect. As
regarded some, it had the contrary effect to that
intended to be produced, for they thought that an
VOL. III. p

314 THE WESTERN WORLD.

industry which produced such excellent fruit required
no protection to enable it to maintain its ground.
Congress was neither overawed nor convinced — the
tariff bill passed, and shortly afterwards the manu
factures of the country had to submit to competition.
Bands of music attended at the exhibition, and every
thing was done to render it as attractive as possible.
At one time it was intended to bring some of the fac
tory girls from Lowell to it, as specimens of native
produce, but the intention was speedily abandoned.
Multitudes flocked from all parts of the country to
witness the Fair, and Washington was literally glutted
with strangers. This admirably served the purpose
of Mr. Homer, who was all the time proceeding with
his quiet, unobtrusive, but rival exhibition in the
capitol. I was with him on,e day, when a very fiery
and uncombed young man entered, and after fuming
about for some time, began to attack Mr. Homer in
a no very courteous manner for his enmity to domestic
industry. It was soon evident that he regarded him
as a European — in fact, as an interested agent of the
English manufacturer. Mr. Homer put him right
on this point, informing him that he was a Bostonian
and his fellow-countryman ; but this, instead of paci
fying, made him all the more furious. It was quite
bad enough for the foreigner, be intimated, thus to
beard the home manufacturer in the very heart of the
Union ; but for a native to do it was something, in
his opinion, worse, if possible, than sacrilege.

" I'm Southerner," he said at last, bursting into
a fit of uncontrollable passion, " and I'll make the
Union yet ring with your name." Having said this,
he left the room, and repaired to the fountain hard
by to cool himself. I asked, when he had left, what

THE WESTERN WORLD. 315

he meant by saying he was " Southerner ;" when I
was informed that he contributed letters to some
Southern newspaper, under that signature.

When the American manufacturers talk of self-
dependence as the proper attitude of the Republic,
do they mean that it should cut itself off from all
commercial intercourse with the world ? Yet this is
what they must do to realize their dreams. The
primary condition to mutual trade is mutual de
pendence. If America can be brought to a point at
which she will want nothing from the rest of the
world, the condition will be wanting to her trading
with the rest of the world. Trade cannot be all on
one side. She may have much to give away, but
unless she takes something, the produce of others'
industry, in return for it, she cannot dispose of it,
unless she do so gratuitously. And should this self-
dependence ever be attained, and this national isola
tion secured, what will become of the shipping interest
and the national marine of America ? Let the Ame
ricans remember that they are much more dependent
for the manning of their navy upon a flourishing
commercial marine than we are. Indeed, wages for
civil employments are so high in America, that this
is the only source to which they have to look for
the material with which to man their navy. In
Europe it is otherwise. The condition to a flourishing
commercial marine is a flourishing foreign trade. The
pivot on which the foreign trade of America now
turns is its export of cotton. Let the manufacturers
have their way, and this trade is ruined.

If the manufacturers would only wait patiently for
the denouement, that which they are so anxious to
precipitate will, in all probability, ere long unfold

316 THE WESTERN WORLD.

itself as the natural result of the progress of manu
factures in America. Their water-power is inex
haustible, their machiner}' will be gradually perfected,
their skill will increase, and the cotton will continue
to be cultivated almost at their very doors. The
only condition to a complete monopoly of the Ame
rican market, in which they will long be wanting, is
cheap labour. But there are facilities in their way
which, if properly turned to account, may more than
compensate them for continued high wages. By
attempting to realize at once the monopoly which
appears yet to be in store for them, they bring them
selves into angry collisions with other interests, upon
the development of which they trench, by seeking to
force the growth of their own, no matter at what
cost to the country. They can only now monopolize
the home market at a heavy cost to every other
branch of domestic industry — in other words, they
can only protect themselves by the imposition of a
heavy tax for their exclusive benefit upon the great
body of consumers. Protection thus cuts both ways.
It injures the foreigner, and also the domestic con*
sumer. Between the two parties thus treated, stands
the protected interest, which alone receives the benefit
of the false policy on which it flourishes.

CHAPTER XL

AMERICAN CHARACTER. — PHYSICAL CONDITION OF
SOCIETY IN AMERICA.

The American Character the reverse of gloomy and morose. — Sen
sitiveness of the American people. — Its explanation and its
excuse. — The Americans more sensitive at home than abroad —
Why they are so, explained. — They are more boastful abroad than
they are at home. — This also explained. — Allowances to be made.
— The American has cause to feel proud of his Country's Pro
gress. — The national feeling in America resolves itself chiefly into
a love of Institutions, — Identification of the American with his
political system. — Impossibility of the establishment of Monarchy
in the United States. — Stability of Democracy in America. —
Monarchy impossible, even in Canada, in the event of its separa
tion from the mother country. — The American's faith in his
Country's Destiny. — Influence of this on his feelings and character.
— Feeling cherished towards England. — Love of titles in Ame
rica. — Love of Money. — Fondness for Dress. — Physical condition
of society in America.

MANY Europeans quit the shores of the Republic
with unfavourable impressions of American charac
ter, in the broadest acceptation of the term. But in
the majority of instances, those who do so enter the
country with preconceived notions of it, and leave
it ere they have learnt to discern objects through the
right medium. The Americans as a people, for instance,
are characterised by some as gloomy and reserved ;
whereas, if properly approached, they are frank,
communicative, and not unfrequently even mercurial
in their dispositions. Any one who has mingled
much in American society must have seen that gloom
was far from being its predominant characteristic, at
least in the case of American women. If they have

318 THE WESTERN WORLD.

any fault in this respect as a class, it is not that
of coldness and reserve, but of over vivaciousness,
and a tendency to the frivolous and amusing. In
parts of the country, where fanaticism in religion
has for some time prevailed, a settled gloom may
be discerned on the majority of countenances;
but it does not so much indicate a morose spirit,
as a real or affected habit of looking serious. From
a pretty long and intimate acquaintance with Ame
rican society in most of its phases, I can confi
dently say, that the traveller who finds the people of
America habitually keeping him at a distance, and
otherwise treating him coldly, must be himself chiefly
to blame for the reception which lie experiences.
During my peregrinations through the Union — and
they were many and long — I had frequent opportu
nity of seeing how English travellers demeaned
themselves on passing through the country. I inva
riably found that those who met the Americans
frankly and ingenuously, were treated with the utmost
kindness and warmheartedness, and were consequently
favourably impressed with the character of the
people; whereas, such as travelled through the
country as if it were a compliment to the Republic
that they touched its democratic soil, and as if the
mere fact of their being Englishmen entitled them to
treat all who came in their way with ill-dissembled
hauteur and contumely, were left to find their way
as they best could, the cold shoulder being turned
to them wherever they went. This is not done from
any feeling of vindictiveness towards them, for they
are generally laughed at on assuming insolent airs
and demanding extra attentions. Those who will not
treat them frankly, the Americans will not put them-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 319

selves out of their way to receive kindly, nor will
they give their confidence to such as expect to gain it
without an equivalent. But be frank, fair, and
honest with them, treating them not with marked
deference, but with ordinary courtesy, and a more
kind-hearted, accessible, hospitable and manageable
people are not to be found.

The Americans are almost universally known to
be a sensitive people. They are more than this ;
they are over-sensitive. This is a weakness which
some travellers delight to play upon. But if they
understood its source aright, they would deal more
tenderly with it. As a nation, they feel themselves
to be in the position of an individual whose perma
nent place in society has not yet been ascertained.
They have struggled in little more than half a century
into the first rank amongst the powers of the earth ;
but, like all new members of a confined and very
particular circle, they are not yet quite sure of the
firmness of their footing. When they look to the
future, they have no reason to doubt the prominency
of the position, social, political, and economical, which
they will assume. But they are in haste to be all
that they are yet destined to be ; and although they
do not exact from the stranger a positive recognition
of all their pretensions, they are sensitive to a degree
to any word or action on his part which purports a
denial of them. It must be confessed that this
weakness has of late very much increased. A sore
that is being constantly irritated will soon exhibit all
the symptoms of violent inflammation. The feelings
of the American people have been wantonly and un
necessarily wounded by successive travellers who
have undertaken to depict them, nationally and indi-

320 THE WESTERN WOULD.

vidually, and who, to pander to a prevailing taste in
this country, have generally viewed them on the
ludicrous side. It is a mistake to fancy that the
Americans are impatient of criticism. They will
submit to any amount of it that is fair, when they
discover that it is tendered in an honest spirit. What
they most wince at is the application to them and
their affairs of epithets tending to turn them into
ridicule. You may be as severe as you please with
them, even in their own country as well as out of it,
without irritating them, provided it appears that
your intention is not simply to raise a laugh at their
expense. When I first went to Washington I was
cautioned by one who knew the Americans well, not
to suppress my real sentiments concerning them, but
to be guarded as to the terms and the manner in
which I gave utterance to them. They have been so
frequently unjustly dealt with by English writers,
that they now suspect every Englishman of a prede
termination to treat them in a similar manner. I acted
upon the advice which I received, and for the six
months during which I resided in the capital,
I freely indulged in criticism of men and things,
without, so far as I could ascertain, giving the
slightest offence to any one. But there are cases in
which a look, a shrug of the shoulder, or a verbal
expression, may cause the greatest irritation. In this
country it is difficult to understand this sensitiveness
on the part of the American people. England has
her fixed position in the great family of nations, and
at the head of civilization — a position which she has
long occupied, and from which it will be some time
ere she is driven. We care not, therefore, what the
foreigner says or thinks of us. He may look or

THE WESTERN WORLD. 3.21

express contempt as he walks our streets, or fre
quents our public places. His praise cannot exalt,
nor can his contempt debase us, as a people. The
desire of America is to be at least abreast of England
in the career of nations ; and every expression which
falls from the Englishman showing that in his opinion
she is yet far behind his own country, grates harshly
upon what is after all but a pardonable vanity,
springing from a laudable ambition.

The Americans are much more sensitive at home
than they are abroad. Their country is but yet
young ; and when they hear parties abroad who have
never seen it, expressing opinions in any degree
derogatory to it, they console themselves with the
reflection that the disparaging remark has its origin
in an ignorance of the country, which is judged of,
not from what it really is, but simply as a State of
but seventy years' growth. Now in Europe it is but
seldom that seventy years of national existence accom
plishes much for a people. It is true that more has
been done for mankind during the last seventy than
perhaps during the previous 700 ; but the development
of a nation in Europe is a slow process at the best,
as compared with the course of things in this respect
in America. The American, therefore, feels that, if
the European would suspend his judgment until he
saw and heard for himself, it would be very different
from what it is when begotten in prejudice and pro
nounced in ignorance. This takes the sting from such
disparaging criticism abroad as he may chance to hear.
But if it is offered at home, unless it is accompanied
with all the candour and honesty in which such criti
cism should alone be indulged in, he has no such
reflection to take refuge in, and it wounds him to the

3.22 THE WESTERN WORLD.

quick. If, notwithstanding all the evidences which
the country affords of unexampled prosperity, uni
versal contentment, social improvement and material
progress, the foreigner still speaks of it, not in terms
of severity, but in these of contempt — in terms, in
short, which the American feels and knows are not
justifiable — he can only refer the criticism to a pre
determination to turn everything into ridicule, and is
consequently not unjustly offended. Such, unfor
tunately, is the predetermination with which a large
proportion of English travellers in America enter
the country, demeaning themselves, during their
peregrinations through it, with an ill-disguised air of
self-importance, unpalatable to a people who have
become jealous from unmerited bad treatment. The
consequence is, that every Englishman in America is
now on his good behaviour. He is not regarded as
candid until he proves himself the reverse, but as
prejudiced and unfriendly until he gives testimony of
his fairness and honesty.

If the Americans are more sensitive at home than
they are abroad, they are more boastful abroad than
they are at home. The one is a mere weakness, the
other frequently an offence. Many in Europe judge
of the American people from the specimens of them
who travel. There are, of course, many Americans
that travel, who, if they partake largely of the
national vanity attributed to them all, have the tact
and the courtesy to conceal it. Indeed, some of the
best specimens of Americans are, for obvious reasons,
those who have travelled much from home. But the
great mass of American travellers enter foreign coun
tries with as thick a coat of prejudice about them, as
Englishmen generally wear in visiting America. The

THE WESTERN WOULD. 323

consequence is that they commit the fault abroad, at
which they are so irritated when committed in regard
to themselves by the foreigner in America. With the
American abroad, however, this fault assumes the
reverse phase of that taken by it when committed by
the foreigner in America. The Englishman, for
instance, who is disposed to view everything in
America through a jaundiced eye, and to draw in
vidious comparisons between the two countries,
exalts his own by running down the other. The
American, on the other hand, having the same object in
view, approaches it from the opposite side, drawing
comparisons favourable to his country, not by dis
paraging others, but by boasting of his own. This
may be the weaker, but it is certainly the less offen
sive manifestation of a common fault. It would be
erroneous to suppose that the national vanity which
so many Americans exhibit abroad, is prominently
manifested at home. At all events it is not obtruded
upon the stranger. The evidences of the country's
greatness, both present and prospective, are before him
when in the country ; and to recapitulate them to him
under these circumstances would be but to tell a tale
twice over. If he does not draw favourable conclusions
from what he sees, it is hopeless to expect him to do
so from anything that he could hear. The American
may be amazed at his real, or annoyed at his wilful
blindness, but he generally leaves him to his own
inferences. It is only abroad, and when in contact
with those who have not had ocular demonstration of
it, that he is prone to dwell in a vaunting spirit upon
his country's greatness.

Some allowance, however, should be made for the
American, even in his most boastful humour. If he

324 THE WESTERN WOULD.

has nothing in a national point of view to be vain of,
he has certainly much of which he [can and should
feel proud. There is no other country on earth
which in so short a time has accomplished so much.
It has but just passed the usual term allotted as the
period of life to man, and yet it takes rank as a first-
rate power. But let it not be supposed that all this
has been achieved in seventy years. The American
republic has never had a national infancy, like that
through which most European nations have passed.
The colonies were, in a measure, old whilst they were
yet new. They were as old as England herself
in point of moral, and new only in point of material,
civilization. They were not savages who laid the
foundations of our colonial dominion in America, but
emigrants from a highly civilized society, carrying
with them all the moral results of centuries of social
culture. The youth of Anglo-Saxon America was not a
period of barbarism ; its civilization, morally speaking,
was up with our own when it was first colonized. If
it did not always keep up with it, the reason is to be
found in the nature of the circumstances in which it
was placed. The civilization of England in the
seventeenth century was transplanted to a country
resembling England in the first. The barbarism of
nature was a drawback to the rapid development of
the civilization which had been transferred to it. A
war between the two immediately ensued, the result
of which was the subjugation of the wilderness, and
the civilization of external nature. But during the
progress of the conflict, particularly in its earliest
and severest stages, the career of intellectual and moral
improvement was necessarily retarded. The merit
of the American colonists consisted in this, that their

THE WESTERN WORLD. 325

retardation was not much greater and more prolonged.
The same conflict is now being waged in the Far
West, society there at the present day being the
counterpart of what society was on the sea-board
colonies two centuries ago. In the colony material
civilization had greatly progressed previously to 177(3.
When, therefore, the independence of America was
proclaimed, the country had made large advances in
the career of social and material improvement, so that
when it became invested with a distinct and separate
nationality, it was already comparatively old. The
present development of America cannot, then, be
regarded as the result of its efforts during the brief
period of its independence. The sources of that
development are traceable not only back to colonial
times, but also to the successive stages of English
civilization, long before the colonies were dreamt of.
Although the American cannot, thus, [refer all his
country's greatness to the period of its independ
ence, there is no question that the strides which it
has taken during that period cast all its previous
advances into the shade. In these he has undoubt
edly cause for national pride and self-gratulation.

Intimately connected with the pride of country
which generally distinguishes the Americans, is the
feeling which they cherish towards their institutions.
Indeed, when the national feeling of an American is
alluded to, something very different is implied from
that which is generally understood by the term. In
Europe, and particularly in mountainous countries,
the aspect of which is such as to impress itself vividly
upon the imagination, the love of country resolves
itself into a reverence for locality irrespective of all
other considerations. Thus the love which a Swiss

326 THE "WESTERN WOflLD.

bears to his country is attached to the soil constitut
ing Switzerland, without reference to the social or
political institutions which may develop themselves
in the cantons. And so with the Scottish moun
taineer, whose national attachments centre upon the
rugged features of his native land. It is seldom that
the national feeling exhibits itself to the same extent
in the breast of one born and bred in a country sur
passingly rich, perhaps, in all the productions which
minister to the comforts of life, but destitute of
those rough and stern features which so endear his
country to the hardy mountaineer. It is quite true
that inspiriting historic associations may frequently
produce feelings of national attachment similar to
those inspired by a grand and imposing develop
ment of external nature : it is thus that some of the
most patriotic tribes on earth are the inhabitants, not
of the rugged mountain defile, but of the rich and
monotonous plain. But the American exhibits little
or none of the local attachments which distinguish
the European. His feelings are more centred upon
his institutions than his mere country. He looks
upon himself more in the light of a republican than
in that of a native of a particular territory. His
affections have more to do with the social and poli
tical system with which he is connected, than with
the soil which he inhabits. The national feelings
which he and a European cherishes being thus differ
ent in their origin and their object, are also different
in their results. The man whose attachments converge
upon a particular spot of earth, is miserable if removed
from it, no matter how greatly his circumstances
otherwise may have been improved by his removal;
but give the American his institutions, and he cares

THE WESTERN WORLD. 327

but little where you place him. In some parts of
the Union the local feeling may be comparatively
strong, such as in New England ; but it is astonish
ing how readily even there an American makes up
his mind to try his fortunes elsewhere, particularly if
he contemplates removal merely to another part of
the Union, no matter how remote, or how different
in climate and other circumstances from what he has
been accustomed to, provided the flag of his country
waves over it, and republican institutions accompany
him in his wanderings.

Strange as it may seem, this peculiarity, which
makes an American think less of his country than
of the institutions which characterise it, contributes
greatly to the pride which he takes in his country.
He is proud of it, not so much for itself as because
it is the scene in which an experiment is being tried
which engages the anxious attention of the world.
The American feels himself much more interested in
the success of his scheme cf government, if not more
identified with it, than the European does in regard
to his. The Englishman, for instance, does not feel
himself particularly committed to the success of
monarchy as a political scheme. He will support it
so long as he is convinced that it conduces to the
general welfare ; and, judging it by this standard, it
is likely that he will yet support it for a long time
to come. He feels his honour to be involved in the
independence of his country, but does not consider
himself to be under any obligations to prove this or
that political system an efficient one. The political
scheme under which he lives he took as part and
parcel of his inheritance in a national point of view,
and his object is to make the best of it. It is very

328 THE WESTERN WORLD.

different, however, with the American. He feels
himself to be implicated, not only in the honour and
independence of his country, but also in the success
of democracy. He has asserted a great principle,
and feels that, in attempting to prove it to be prac
ticable, he has assumed an arduous responsibility.
He feels himself, therefore, to be directly interested
in the success of the political system under which he
lives, and all the more so because he is conscious
that in looking to its working mankind are divided
into two great classes — those who are interested in its
failure, and those who yearn for its success. Every
American is thus, in his own estimation, the apostle
of a particular political creed, in the final triumph
and extension of which he finds both himself and his
country deeply involved. This gives him a peculiar
interest in the political scheme which he represents ;
and invests his country with an additional degree of
importance in his sight, as in that of many others,
from being the scene of an experiment in the suc
cess of which not only Americans but mankind are
interested. Much, therefore, of the self-importance
which the American assumes, particularly abroad, is
less traceable to his mere citizenship than to his con
scious indentification with the success of democracy.
Its manifestation may not always be agreeable to
others, but the source of his pride is a legitimate and
a noble one. It involves not only his own position,
but also the hopes and expectations of humanity.

It is this feeling which renders the establishment
of monarchy an impossibility in the United States.
The American not only believes that his material
interests are best subserved by a democratic form of
government, but his pride is also mixed up with its

THE WESTERN WORLD. 329

maintenance and its permanency. It is a common
thing for Europeans to speculate upon the disinte
gration of the Union, arid the consequent establish
ment, in some part or parts of it, of the monarchical
principle. These speculations are generally based upon
precedents, but upon precedents which have in reality
no application to America. The republics of old are
pointed to as affording illustrations of the tendencies of
republicanism. But the republics of old afford no
criterion by which to judge of republicanism in Ame
rica. The experiment which is being tried there is
one sui generis. Not only are the political principles
established different from those which have hereto
fore been practically recognised ; but the people are
also in a better state of preparation for the successful
development of the experiment. The social condi
tion of the ancient republics was as different from
that of America as night is from day. The political
superstructures which arose in them conformed them
selves more or less to the nature of their bases. The
result was not republicanism, but oligarchy. All
that can be said of these so-called republics is, that
they were not monarchies. But it does not follow
that they were republican. The elementary prin
ciple of republicanism is, that government, to be
stable, must be deeply rooted in the public will.
The governments of the older republics were not so,
and they perished — as all usurpations will and must
do. The more modern republics, again, are divisible
into two classes — such as were assimilated in the prin
ciples and in the form of their government to the
more ancient, and such as too hastily and inconsider
ately assumed the true democratic type. If the former
shared the fate of the older republics, it was because

330 THE WESTERN WORLD.

they resembled them in the faultiness of their con
struction. If the latter were evanescent, and speedily
relapsed into monarchy, it was but the natural result
of hasty and violent transition. But the mistake lies
in arguing from these cases, particularly the latter,
in our speculations as to the future of America. It
is but natural that a people who have been for ages
inured to monarchy, whose sentiments are more or
less intertwined arid whose sympathies are bound up
with it, should, after having been for a season, either
through their own madness or through the folly of
others, divorced from it, revert to it again on the
first favourable opportunity. But in doing so they
are only following the true bent of their inclinations,
to which their inconsiderate republican experiment
in reality did violence. Generations must elapse ere
a people trained and educated to monarchy can be
really converted into republicans: in other words,
a people cannot be suddenly or violently diverted
from that to which they have been trained and accus
tomed. This is a very simple rule : but simple thougb
it be, it is precisely that which Europeans overlook
in judging of the stability of democracy in America.
The American Republic, in the first place, differs
essentially from all that have preceded it in the prin
ciples on which it is founded : it is not a republic in
simply not being a monarchy : it is a Democratic
Republic, in the broadest sense of the term. If it is
not a monarchy, neither is it an oligarchy. It is the
people in reality that rule ; it is riot a mere fraction
of them that usurps authority. The success of the
American experiment depended, as it still depends,
upon the character of the people. As already shown,
the stability of the republic is intimately identified

THE WESTERN WORLD. 331

with the enlightenment of the public mind — in other
words, with the great cause of popular education ; it
is to the promotion of education that it will in future
chiefly owe its success. But its maintenance at first
was mainly owing to the political antecedents of the
people. It is quite true that they were converted in
a day from being the subjects of a monarchy into the
citizens of a republic. But let us not overlook the
long probation which they underwent for the change.
From the very foundation of the colonies, the subjects
of the British crown in America were being practised
in the art of self-government. The charters which
most of the colonies received from the crown were of
the most liberal description, and, in fact, constituted
the seeds of the future Republic. Prerogative ran
high at home in the days of the Restoration ; but so
liberal was the charter which Charles II. conceded
to the colony of Rhode Island, that from 1776 down
to 184£ it served the purposes of a constitution in
the State of Rhode Island. The political transition,
therefore, which took place in 1776, so far from being
a violent one, was but the natural consequence of the
political education to which the American colonists
had been subjected for a century and a half before.
The moment they separated themselves from the im
perial crown, they assumed the republican form of
government, not from impulse or enthusiasm, but
from the very necessity of the case. They had been
long taught the lesson of self-reliance and self-con
trol ; and if, so long1 as they were colonists, they re
mained monarchists, it was more from old associations
and ties than from not being ripe for a republic. The
establishment of the Republic in America in 1776,
then, was not a violent act, but a necessary one, after

332 THE WESTERN WORLD.

the disruption between the colonies and the mother
country. This is what those forget who predict that
the Republic will speedily relapse into monarchy.
But it is in this that consists the essential difference
between the American Republic, and the European
republics of a modern date. Had the establishment
of the Republic in 1776 warred with the habits or
done violence to the feelings of the people, its over
throw might have been speedily looked for. But so
far was this from being the case, that no other form
of government could have been instituted that would
have outlived a lustrum. The establishment of a
permanent monarchy was as impossible in America
in 1776, as was the establishment of a permanent
republic in France in 1848. In the one case, the
tendency of the people to revert to that to which
they were educated, trained, and acccustomed, would
have overpowered the system temporarily established
amongst them — as it is speedily destined to do in the
other. The safety of the American Republic con
sists in this, that in establishing it the American
people were not suddenly or violently diverted from
the political order of things to which they had been
accustomed. Let parties well consider this before
they indulge in sinister predictions as to the insta
bility of the political institutions of America. If the
Americans have been successful as republicans, it is
because they underwent a long probation to the prin
ciple of Republicanism. Under the shadow of a
powerful monarchy, to which they belonged, but by
which they were really not governed, they practically
acquainted themselves with the art of self-govern
ment. The colonies were thus practically republics
before they became independent. Institutions, to be

THE WESTERN WOULD. 333

stable, must conform to the tastes, habits and genius
of a people. Monarchy could not have done so in
America in 1776. Republicanism alone was suited
to the character of the people and the exigencies of
the country. Republicanism alone, therefore, was
possible.

It is equally so at the present day. Consider the
Americans now — and what is there in their character,
feelings, or circumstances to lead them back to mon
archy ? Everything connected with them tends the
other way. Their associations are all republican —
their principles and practice have ever been so — their
interests have been subserved by republican institu
tions, and their pride is now involved in their main
tenance and extension. The circumstances of the
country, and the character and genius of the people,
are as much now as in J 776 inimical to monarchy.
On what, therefore, rests the supposition so often
hazarded by parties in this country, that violence will
be done, and that ere long, to the Republic in Ame
rica ? Unless the people can be persuaded to do violence
to their feelings, tastes, habits, and associations, and
to adopt institutions incompatible with their position
and circumstances, there is no fear of democracy in
America.

Many point to the accumulation of wealth as that
which will work the change. It is quite true that
some of the millionnaires of America would have no
objection to the establishment of a different order of
things. But both in numbers and influence they are
insignificant, as compared with the great mass even of
the commercial and manufacturing communities, who
are staunch democrats at heart. Much more are they
so when we take the great agricultural body of Ame-

334 THE WESTERN WORLD.

rica into account. Here, after all, is the stronghold
of democracy on the continent, However it may
be undermined in the town, its foundations are deeply
and securely laid in the township. No one who has
mingled much with the American farmers can enter
tain any serious doubts of the stability of democracy
in America. Even were the entire commercial and
manufacturing community otherwise disposed, they
could make no impression against the strong, sturdy,
democratic phalanx engaged in the cultivation of the
soil. But the great bulk of the commercial and
manufacturing classes are, as already intimated, as
devoted to the republican system as any of the
farmers can be. During the whole of my intercourse
with the Americans, I never met with more than two
persons who expressed a desire for a change. One
was an old lady who had got a fright at an election,
and the other was a young lieutenant in the army,
who lisped, through his moustache, his preference for
a military despotism to a republican government.
It was very evident that he understood neither the
one nor the other.

The following will serve to illustrate how deeply
the republican sentiment has infused itself into the
minds of all classes in America. On my return to
Liverpool I visited Eaton Hall, near Chester, in com-
nany with some Americans who had been my fellow-
voyagers. After inspecting the interior, we strolled
along the magnificent grounds which enclose that
noble pile. One of the company was a retired mer-
phant of New York, who had amassed a large fortune,
and occupied a fine mansion in the upper and fashion
able part of Broadway. After waiting until he had seen
all, I asked him what he thought of it. He replied,

THE WESTERN WOULD. 335

that he would give me his opinion when we were in
the streets of Chester. I understood his meaning,
and asked him if he did not think that the same di
versities of light and shade would soon be exhibited
in his own country. He replied, that it was possible,
but that he would shed the last drop of his blood to
prevent it, and impose it as a sacred obligation upon
his children to do the same. This was not said in
vulgar bravado, but in unaffected earnestness. But
it may be said that this is but one example. True,
it is but one example, but I can assure the reader
that it illustrates a universal sentiment.

It may be considered a little singular, but if the
love of democracy admits of degrees in America, the
ladies cherish it to the greatest extent. Could there
be a better guarantee for its continuance ?

Nor let it be supposed that the democratic senti
ment is confined to the United States. The Canadas
are now undergoing the probation to which the re
volted colonies were subjected previously to 1776. At
no period in their history were the provinces more
loyal or well affected towards the mother country
than they are at this moment. So long as they re
main united with us, they will cherish as a sentiment
the monarchical principle, albeit that their daily
political practice is both of a republican character
and tendency. But suppose a separation to take
place, I candidly appeal to every Canadian to bear
me out in the assertion that monarchy in Canada
would be impossible. And whilst the tendency of
things is thus towards democracy in our own colonies,
some of us fancy that their tendency is towards
monarchy in the Republic.

Many of what some regard as the more inflated

336 THE WESTERN WORLD.

peculiarities of the American character, may be attri
buted to the faith which Americans cherish in the
destiny of their country. Whatever may be its future
social and political influence, they have no doubt
that, as regards territorial extension, it will yet em
brace the continent. The issues which such a con
summation involves are enough to make a people
feel proud of their country. The realization of their
hopes in this respect, they regard as a mere question
of time. They feel that there is, in reality, no power
on the continent that can ultimately resist them. I
was forcibly impressed with the extent to which this
feeling prevails, on listening one day to a speech
delivered by Mr. Crittenden of Kentucky, in the
Senate, shortly after the breaking out of the Mexican
war. It was in reply to Mr. Sevier from Arkansas,
who was complaining that a portion of one of the
counties of that State had been reserved to the
Indians. Mr. Crittenden, in showing him how un
worthy such a complaint was, reminded him that the
whole State had been taken from the Indians, and
not only it, but every State in the Confederacy. He
then recapitulated the accessions made to the terri
tory of the Union since the period of its indepen
dence. He alluded to the boundary, particularly the
south and south-west, as ever changing, so as to em
brace new acquisitions. It had first swept from the
St. Mary's round the peninsula of Florida, and crept
up the Gulf to the Mississippi and Sabine. It after
wards fled westward to the Nueces, and was then, he
reminded the House, alluding to the cause of the
war, supposed to be on the Rio Grande. It fled, he
continued, before the Anglo-American race as it
advanced. " Where is it now?" he asked in conclu-

THE WESTERN WORLD. 337

" Just," he added, " where we please to
put it."

Many fall into the mistake of supposing that an
indulgence in hatred of England is a chronic state
of the American mind. In the Irish population of
the United States is the true source of the enmity
towards this country which is sometimes exhibited.
Originating amongst these, unscrupulous politicians
fan the flame to serve their own purposes; but it has to
be constantly supplied with fuel, or it speedily dies out.
The feeling is not a general one, nor is it permanent
with any section of the native population, not directly
of Irish extraction. In all disputes with this country
there is more of bluster than bad feeling. The
American desires to see his country in advance of
all nations, in power, wealth, and moral influence.
Great Britain is the only power which he now regards
as standing in the way. The Americans treat us as
the only enemies, when enemies, worthy of a thought
as such. It is this that makes them so touchy in all
their quarrels with us. They are far more likely to
be reasonable and conciliatory in a dispute with
Spain than with Great Britain. They may give way
in the one case, but they fear that if they did so in
the other, it would seem as if they had been bullied
into so doing. We, again, have been the only enemy
with which they have ever been in serious collision.
But after all, a friendly and kindly feeling with re
gard to us pervades the American mind ; they would
not willingly see us injured by a third party, if they
could prevent it.

" We have had many quarrels with you," said a
lady to me once in Washington, " but we are proud
of our descent from the English ! We court the
French when it suits our purpose, but," she added,

VOL. ill. Q

338 THE WESTERN WORLD.

with great emphasis, "we would not be descended
from them on any account."

The Americans are charged by some as being guilty
of inconsistency in the fondness which they manifest
for titles. But those who make this charge do so
without reflection. The Americans are fond of titles,
but that does not argue that they are inconsistent
republicans. The fondness for titles which they
display is but a manifestation of the fondness for dis
tinction natural to the human mind. And what sane
man ever inculcated the idea that republicanism was
inconsistent with the love of distinction ? Constitute
society as you may, there must be posts of honour,
power, influence, dignity, and emolument, to strive
for. These exist in republics as well as under any
other form of government. Are they not to be
striven for without compromising one's political creed?
And if the office is obtained, why not be called by
its name ? The Presidency of the republic is an
office — he who obtains it is called the President.
Does a man cease to be a republican because he
aspires to both ? Is it not rather a laudable ambition
that prompts the aspiration ? Or should he who
obtains the office, drop the title ? As it is with the
title of President, so it is with all other titles in
America. A judgeship is a distinction. On him
who obtains it, it confers the appellation of Judge.
A governorship of a State is a distinction. He who
is appointed to it is called the Governor. And so on
through all the offices in the State, civil and military.
There is this broad and essential difference, however,
between titles as coveted in America and titles as
existing in Europe. There the title pertains to a
distinction acquired by the individual himself, for
himself, and has always connected with it some office

THE WESTERN WORLD. 339

of trust or responsibility. Here we have similar titles,
but we have others also which spring from the mere
accident of birth, which are connected with no duties,
and which do not necessarily indicate any merit on
the part of those possessing them. The time was in
England when Marquis, Earl, and Viscount indicated
something more than mere arbitrary social rank.
There are in America no titles analogous to these.
There duties are inseparable from titles. So long as
there are offices in the Republic to be filled, and so
long as republicans may legitimately aspire to fill
them, so long may they, without sacrificing their con
sistency, assume the titles of the offices to which
they are appointed.

The love of money is regarded by many as a strik
ing trait in the American character. I fear that this
is a weakness to which humanity must universally
plead guilty. But it is quite true that it is an
absorbing passion with the Americans. This cannot
be denied, but it may be explained. America is a
country in which fortunes have yet to be made.
Wealth gives great distinction, and wealth is, more
or less, within the grasp of all. Hence the universal
scramble. All cannot be made wealthy, but all have
a chance of securing a prize. This stimulates to the
race, and hence the eagerness of the competition.
In this country, however, the lottery is long since
over, and with few exceptions the great prizes are
already drawn. To the great bulk of the people
wealth is utterly unattainable. All they can hope
for is competency, and numbers fall short even of
that. Men soon flag in a hopeless pursuit. Hence it
is that, in this country, the scramble is neither so
fierce nor universal.

340 THE WESTERN WORLD.

The American people discover an extraordinary
talent for invention. The Patent-office in Washing
ton is a most creditable monument to their inventive
powers. They are also quick in the adoption of an
improvement, no matter from what source it proceeds.

They are excessively fond of being well dressed.
The artisans amongst them are particularly so, not so
much from personal vanity, as from the fact that they
make dress a test of respectability. Almost every man
who is not an emigrant wears superfine broad-cloth
in America, if we except the hard-working farmer,
who generally attires himself in homespun. You
seldom meet with a fustian jacket, except on an
emigrant's back, in an American town.

This leads me, in concluding this chapter, briefly
to glance at the physical condition of society
America. If the social structure in the Republic has
no florid Corinthian capital rising into the clear air
above, neither has it a pedestal in the mire beneath.
If it is devoid of much of the ornamental, so is it
also wanting in much of the painful and degrading.
It may not be so picturesque as many of the social
fabrics which have sprung from chivalry and feudalism,
but it is nevertheless compact, elegant, symmetrical,
and commodious. It is to English society, what a
modern house is to an Elizabethian mansion — it is
not built so much to attract the eye as to accom
modate the inmates.

The most important feature of American society,
in connexion with its physical condition, is that com
petence is the lot of all. No matter to what this is
attributable, whether to the extent and resources of
the country, or to the nature of its institutions, or to
both, such is the case, and one has not to be long in

THE WESTERN WOULD. 341

America to discover it. It is extremely seldom that
the willing hand in America is in want of employ
ment, whilst the hard-working man has not only a
competency on which to live, but, if frugal, may soon
save up sufficient to procure for himself in the West
a position of still greater comfort and independence.
There are paupers in America, but, fortunately, they
are very few. They are generally confined to the
large towns ; nor need they subsist upon charity, if
they had the energy to go into the rural districts and
seek employment. This, however, is not applicable
to the majority of them, who are aged and infirm. It
may be laid down as a general rule, without qualifi
cation, that none are deprived of competency in
America except such as are negligent, idle, or grossly
improvident. The general effect of this upon society
has been already considered. Both in their social
and political relations, all classes are thus able to act
an independent part — an important consideration in
connexion with the peculiar polity of America.

This being the broad and wholesome basis on which
society, so far as regards its physical condition, rests,
the character of the superstructure may easily be in
ferred. Where all classes have a competency, no class
demurs to the luxuries enjoyed by another, There
is but little jealousy of wealth in America, for rea
sons already explained. It is but in extremely rare
instances that gigantic accumulations have as yet been
made. Nor are they likely to be speedily multiplied,
the whole spirit of legislation being against them.
There is no legislation against accumulations of per
sonal property, for the very good reason that it would
be difficult to prevent its distribution. It is sure to
circulate through the community, so that all, by

342 THE WESTERN WOULD.

turns, can have the advantage of it. But the whole
spirit of American legislation is decidedly averse to
accumulations of landed property. Such the people
conceive would be incompatible with the safety of
their institutions. They have accordingly removed
all restrictions upon its alienation, and land is now as
marketable a commodity as the wheat that is raised
upon it.

It is seldom indeed that you find a native American,
or the descendant of an emigrant, occupying a lower
position than that of an artisan. Those who are mere
labourers are almost exclusively emigrants, and in
nineteen cases out of twenty, Irish emigrants. Such
as emigrate from England, Scotland, or Germany,
are soon absorbed into the rural population, and
become, by-and-by, proprietors of land themselves.
But the Irish congregate in masses in the large
towns, as they do here, to do the drudgery of the
community. It is thus that, if a canal is being dug,
or a railway constructed, you meet with gangs of
labourers almost entirely composed of Irishmen.
Their descendants, however, become ambitious and
thrifty, and form the best of citizens.

Enough has here been said to show that America
is the country for the industrious and hard-working
man.

CHAPTER XII.

A PEEP INTO THE FUTURE.

Future of the Anglo-American Commonwealth. — Its political Fu
ture. — Dangers of the Slavery question. — Crisis approaching, in
connexion with it. — Tactics of the North and South. — Their
respective attitudes, in reference to the question. — Proposal to
abolish the Traffic in Slaves in the District of Columbia. — Bearing
of this upon the whole Question at issue. — Dangers connected
with the Territorial Extension of the Union.— The Material
Future of the Eepublic. — Probable consequences of a Dissolution
of the Union. — The Formation of two Eepublics. — The Northern
Confederacy including the British Provinces. — Difficulties in the
way of such an arrangement. — The Industry of America the only
Eival which we have to fear. — The necessary progress of American
Industry. — The fabric of material greatness which it will yet rear.
— Probable effects upon the position and fortunes of England. —
Conclusion.

AN attempt at an hurried glance into the future, may
form a not inappropriate conclusion to the foregoing
general view of men and things in America down to
the present time. In turning the veil slightly aside,
we cannot expect to acquaint ourselves with the
details of destiny, whether of individuals or nations ;
but we may form some estimate of the more pro
minent of coming events from the palpable, albeit
undefined, shadows which they forecast. In attempt
ing to fathom the future of America, we are lost
amid the multiplicity of speculations which crowd
upon us ; but we can, nevertheless, discern amongst
them some of the great purposes of fate, as they

344 THE WESTERN WORLD.

loom upon us through the uncertain light, in obscure
outline but gigantic proportions. Whatever may be
the fate of its present political arrangement, the
future of the Anglo-American Commonwealth is
pregnant with mighty destinies.

That into which we are first naturally led to
inquire, is the political future. It is impossible to
foresee the changes which may be wrought in habits,
tastes, and opinions, during the flight of many suc
cessive generations; but, from what has been said in
the foregoing chapter, it will be evident, I think, that
for a long time at least, democracy, as the elemen
tary principle of government in America, is sure to
maintain itself. How rapidly or how frequently
soever systems may change, and others succeed them,
they will differ from each other in their form but
not in their substance. Any form of government
but that which is essentially popular, is at present
impossible in America ; and so far from things, as we
can now judge of them, tending towards monarchy,
they incline rather to the further extension of the
purely democratic element in the government.
Many point exultingly to what others again regard
despondingly, in proof that the tendency of things is
decidedly and rapidly towards monarchy — the prone-
ness which Americans exhibit to invest the successful
warrior with power. It cannot be denied but that
this is an indefensible weakness in the American
character. The accomplished and experienced states
man is frequently laid aside for the lucky or adroit
fighter ; and men utterly untried in the important art
of administration, are suddenly cast by the wave of
popular enthusiasm into administrative positions,
because they have successfully conducted a campaign.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 345

The art of administration, like that of war, is one
which can only be acquired by experience. It does
not follow that he who excels in one is necessarily
prepared at once to grapple with the other. When
there are tried generals at command, who would
think of entrusting an important military expedition
to him who had only approved himself as an accom
plished statesman ? But such a manifestation of
confidence would not necessarily be more absurd
than to put implicit faith in the administrative
powers of a successful warrior, whose duties of admi
nistration have hitherto been confined within the
precincts of the camp. We laugh at the idea of
Lord John Russell taking the command of the Chan
nel fleet, yet somehow or other we do not think it
so very strange that Zachary Taylor should mount
the presidential chair at Washington. But if Lord
John Russell's antecedents have not prepared him
for commanding the fleet, neither have General
Taylor's prepared him for administering the civil
government of the Republic. He may turn out to be
a good President, but when the post to be filled was
the highest civil post in the nation, to pass by such
a man as Henry Clay, to promote General Taylor,
was as inconsistent, on the part of the American
people, as it would be on that of the government of
this country, during a great national emergency, to
supersede Admiral Sir W. Parker in the Mediter
ranean by the noble lord already named. Taylor,
however, is not the first of the military Presidents.
It was but a common act of gratitude to elevate
General Washington to the presidency ; in addition
to which his powers of administration were great. Six
civil Presidents succeeded him, after whom came
Q3

346 THE WESTERN WORLD.

General Jackson, the very type of military Presidents.
A civilian succeeded him, who was defeated in his
second candidature by General Harrison. He again
was followed by a civilian, who is about to be displaced
by the hero of some recent victories. But both those
who exult and those who despond at this hero-worship
overrate its strength and misconceive its tendencies.
The mistake is in believing that the hero, when elevated
to power, might retain it. Sometimes, as was General
Jackson's case, the idol is worshipped to excess ; but
the American people never lose sight of the fact that
the idol is one of their own fashioning. Try to force
one upon them, or let him be self-imposed, and see
how long he would have a votary in the country. Had
Jackson in the plenitude of his power manifested in
the slightest degree an intention, or even a desire to
perpetuate it, his most violent partizans would have
seceded from him in a day. The Americans may
make a man virtually dictator for a term of years,
and obey him as such, but there is a limit in point of
time to his sway which they will not permit him to
transcend, and which the American executive is in
itself powerless to extend. At the end of eight years
General Jackson, like Cincinnatus, returned to his
plough. Nobody wondered at it, because nobody
was prepared for anything else. The periodic ex
piration of power in America is a law of its normal
condition. Hero-worship in America, therefore, is
not inconsistent with fidelity to the Republic, or with
the continuance of that deep-rooted aversion to mon
archy which pervades the American mind.

It is not, then, as to the duration of democracy in
America that we need entertain any doubts, but as
to the stability of the existing political arrangement.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 347

It is not the republicanism, but the federalism of
America that is in danger. By this I mean federalism
in its present form and manifestation. For federalism
and republicanism will co-exist there, although the
present federal structure may be swept away. The
only question, then, is as to the stability of the present
Union. Will the American republics remain long
united together as at present, or will they adopt
a new form of political existence as one or as several
confederations ?

I have already glanced at the dangers as well as at
the guarantees of the Union. The former chiefly
resolve themselves into a conflict of material interests.
The latter comprise strong material ties ; some of a
natural, and others of an artificial kind. Some sec
tions of it sacrifice much in this respect to the
Union. This sacrifice, to be continued, must be at
least counterbalanced by the advantages and conveni
ences of the Union. The moment this ceases to be
the case, disintegration would speedily ensue, but for
the existence of other elements of cohesion. I
allude to the national sentiment which pervades the
American mind, and the national substratum on
which the federal superstructure is based. But all
these combined may not be proof against disturbing-
causes of a very violent description. Is the Union
threatened with such at present ?

It frequently happens that the greatest catastrophes
are those which are the least heralded. A por
tentous calm sometimes precedes the earthquake, and
the elements are often in the most perfect repose just
as they are about to be most violently disturbed. It
is true that there have been times when dissensions
have exhibited themselves more angrily and more

348 THE WESTERN WORLD.

noisily than at present. But the Republic has never
yet struggled through a crisis like that which is
approaching it. For the time being men's minds are
partly led away by other events of an interesting and
startling character, so that the premonitory symptoms
of the crisis are but partly heeded. The eclat of a
successful war has not yet subsided, whilst the public
mind is still excited by the unexpected possession of
an El Dorado. But despite of this, the difficulty
steadily approaches, unperceived and unheeded by
many, but increasing in magnitude every hour. Sooner
or later it would inevitably have presented itself, but
the Mexican war has, in its results, both precipitated
and aggravated it. Slavery is the difficulty. It is
the Ireland of the Americans. A great question has
to be settled respecting it. Its decision has hitherto
been from time to time postponed, from an instinctive
dread of its consequences, The time of its solution
is now at hand.

The acquisition of so much new territory in the south
west, whilst it has added to the national resources
and pandered to the national pride, has alarmed all
parties in connexion with its necessary bearing upon
the question of slavery. From the moment in which
slavery is extended over it, the evil as regards the
continent is aggravated tenfold. It is on this account
that the North is alarmed at the very thought of its
further extension. From the moment in which the
territory is declared free, the South is placed in a
position of imminent peril. Its property, its insti
tutions, and the very existence of society in it, are
put in jeopardy. A compromise is once more pro
posed, but the North is no longer disposed to stave
off an evil which must ultimately be grappled with.

.THE WESTERN WOELD. 349

By the adoption of the compromise, a large propor
tion of the acquired territory would be declared free ;
but the North refuses to listen to it, and for very
obvious reasons. Were it accepted, the line dividing
the free from the slave regions would run across the
continent to the Pacific. In other words, it would
cover the whole of what remains of Mexico. Now
there are few Americans who dream but that in
the course of a very short time, another slice of
Mexico will fall into their hands, and then another,
and another still, until there is nothing left of the
helpless Spanish republic. With these acquisitions
in prospect, it would be impolitic in the extreme in the
North to permit a broad belt of slave territory now to
intervene between the free territory of the Republic
west of the Mississippi, and the yet unappropriated
provinces of Mexico. Should this be permitted, and
some of these provinces be afterwards added to the
Confederacy, the North could not well insist upon
their being placed in the category of the free States.
This is what now so greatly complicates the question
of a compromise, even were the North still disposed,
which it seems not to be, to stave off, for another
period, the final decision.

The two sections of the Union have thus come at
last, as it were, to a dead lock in reference to the
question of slavery. It is important to the interests
of each to carry its point ; it would be destructive to
the policy of either to miss it. In other words, the
time for drawn battles is past, and the period is ap
proaching when one of the two sections of the Union
must obtain, in connexion with this subject, a final and
decisive victory over the other, or when the Union
itself will be rent asunder. It is essential to the

350 THE WESTERN WORLD.

maintenance of the Union that one party or the other
gives way. Will either do so ? If so — which ?

Both parties have already manifested their deter
mination to oppose every resistance to the demands
of the other. Since the meeting of Congress in
December last, the North has been the aggressive
party. The strongest exhibition which it has made
of the spirit which animates it, has, as yet, been of
an indirect kind, although intimately connected with
the whole subject of slavery. I have already alluded
to the important part which the District of Columbia
plays in the whole question. It is essential to the
interest of slavery that the institution in the District
should be left intact. It exists in the District pre
cisely as it exists in the circumjacent States of Mary
land and Virginia; that is to say, not only are persons
held to slavery in it, but they may also be trafficked
in as slaves. The present House of Representatives
has struck an incipient blow at the system in the
District. It has, by a considerable majority on such
a subject, adopted a resolution, ordering a bill to be
introduced to prohibit in future all trafficking in
slaves, in the District of Columbia. This gave rise
to a most ominous excitement in Congress, and has
created the utmost consternation throughout the
length and breadth of the South. It is not that the
interests of the slave States are bound up in the ex
istence of a traffic in slaves in the District, but that
they dread the slightest intermeddling with the sub
ject on the part of Congress. Their object is to
hold slavery in the District independent, in every
respect, of Congressional action. They deny the
power of Congress constitutionally to meddle with it
in any degree. If it touches it in one point, it may

THE WESTERN WOULD. 351

touch it in all. The South, by sanctioning any pro
posal to legislate on the subject, would concede the
whole question of power. But to this, as a vital
point, it most tenaciously sticks. If it now permits
Congress to abolish the traffic in slaves in the District,
what is there to prevent Congress afterwards from
abolishing slavery altogether in the District ? This
is the great object to which the North tends — it is
the catastrophe which the South would ward off, It
is but as a step towards it that the North seeks to
introduce the bill alluded to — it is as a step towards
it that the South resists its introduction. The North
has, in other instances, also recently given token of
the spirit which now animates it, but it is in con
nexion with this bill that it has assumed its most
menacing attitude. It is high time that it took a final

o t?

stand upon the subject. Slavery is admitted by all
parties to be an evil which, more or less, affects the
entire Republic. The North has all along submitted
to it from the necessity of the case. It most un
wisely aggravated it by the extension of slavery to
Texas. It is now fully alive to the error which it
then committed, and is not disposed to repeat it, for
its repetition would be accompanied with the most
formidable risks. Its tactic now is aggressive. Per
haps it would be wise, in the North, under all the
circumstances of the case, to let the District alone,
and to confine itself to resistance to the further ex
tension of the system of slavery. But, not content
with this, it is now attacking slavery in what is recog
nised as its citadel. The darling doctrine of the
South, that it has no power to do so, involves this
absurdity, that, if Congress has no power, there being
no other legislative power in the District, slavery

352 THE WESTEEN WORLD.

within the District is beyond all power. No State
can touch it, and if Congress cannot do so, there is no
power in the Union which can reach it.

The South lost no time in throwing itself into
an attitude of determined resistance. By the last
accounts, a species of committee of public safety was
sitting on its behalf in the capital. When the reso
lution was adopted in the Lower House, a secession
from that body of the southern members was proposed
by a representative from the South. The proposal
was cheered by some, and laughed at by others. But
formidable passions have been roused, and Congress is
treading upon a volcano. South Carolina is once more
in a state of dangerous fermentation. Her leader and
champion, Mr. Calhoun, the Slave King, is actively
organizing resistance at Washington. The Southern
members of both Houses had met under his auspices,
to consider what was best to be done in the crisis.
The result of their deliberations was the appointment
of a committee to draw up an address to the South,
pointing out to it its true position, real interests, and
undoubted duty. The address was being drawn up,
if not by Mr. Calhoun himself, at least under his
directions. Speculation was rife as to its tenor and
import. It was believed that it would openly advise
the South that it had no longer anything to expect
from the justice or forbearance of the North ; and
that the resistance, which it should offer to further
aggression, should be influenced by this conviction.
Should such be the scope and tenor of the address,
the question is, how will the South receive it ? There
is danger in the way, whichever may be the mode in
which it receives it. If warmly, the Southern mem
bers, supported by their constituents, will resist at all

THE WESTERN WORLD. 353

hazards. If coldly, the North will be stimulated to
further encroachments, until the South is ultimately
driven to the point of unanimous resistance.

Such is the crisis which has been superinduced by
the spoliation of Mexico. California may yet cost
more to the Union than all its gold can compensate
for. Nations, as well as individuals, are amenable to
the law of moral retribution.

It is not only in the new and perilous phase which
it has given to the question of slavery, that the recent
extension of its territory is fraught with danger to
the Union. American politicians of the true Polk
stamp are apt to trust too much to the capacity for
expansion of the federal system. Hitherto it has
safely expanded to admit territories which were not
within its pale at the time of its foundation. But a
power of extension does not necessarily imply a
capacity for indefinite extension. Like the caout
chouc ring, the American system may contract so as
to hold together only a few States, or it may expand
so as to include many. But it should be remembered
that, with every expansion, it becomes weaker and
weaker, and that the strongest ligature will snap at
last. The great danger, however, is not so much
in the acquisition of new territories, as in the in
troduction of new interests into the Union. One
of the main difficulties with which it has had to
contend, was to reconcile the great interests which it
included from the very first. It now embraces all
that it could include, were it to absorb the continent.
It embraced the manufacturing, the commercial, the
agricultural, the cotton, and the sugar-growing in
terests, previously to the acquisition of California,
which has comprehended within the catalogue that

354 THE WESTERN WORLD.

connected with the precious metals. So far as these
are concerned, therefore, its difficulties would now be
but little increased, were it to push its boundary to
the Isthmus.

The conflict of material interests has already
menaced the integrity of the Union. And this, too,
when there were no other causes of irritation existing,
between section and section of the Confederacy.
That conflict is being renewed, and at a moment
when the public mind is agitated by other questions
of vast importance. Unfortunately the question of
the tariff is one which the South regards, like that of
slavery, as sectional. Notwithstanding the excellent
working of the tariff Act of 1846, the Whigs in the
Lower House have manifested a disposition, if they
could, to abrogate it. Of course, so long as the
Senate is democratic, any attempt to revert to a high
tariff will prove abortive. But it is this constant
attitude of defence, in which the South must keep
itself against the North, as well for the preservation
of its domestic institutions, as for the maintenance of
its material interests, that engenders that growing
feeling of alienation from the Union, which now to
some extent characterises the Southern mind.

Such are the difficulties which, by their combi
nation, make up the present crisis. If the Union
gets well through it, it may be regarded as indestruc
tible. If it splits upon the rock, what will be the
new political arrangements of the continent ?

In that case, everything would seem to point to
the formation of two federal republics — the one in
the North and the other in the South — the one free,
the other slave holding. The latter would strengthen
itself by engulfing Mexico — the former would gra-

THE WESTERN WOULD. 355

dually absorb the Canadas. But natural though this
division seems, a great difficulty lies in the way of its
realization. That difficulty is the Mississippi. This
river flows for half its course through free, for the
other half through slave latitudes. Some of the
States, which it binds together in one material and
political system, are free, others slave-holding. With
the exception of this difference, their interests are
identical. Of course the slave States on the Missis
sippi would follow the fortunes of the slave States on
the Atlantic and on the Gulf, whilst the free States
on the Mississippi would make common cause with
those on the lakes and on the sea-board. The result
would be, that the Mississippi would then flow
through two independent jurisdictions. Its lower
half would be in possession of the Southern republic,
without whose permission the States further up could
make no use of it beyond the point separating the
two jurisdictions. "Would the States of the Upper
Mississippi brook this partition of their common
highway to the ocean ? It is true that on account of
the accessibility to them of the basin of the lakes and
the St. Lawrence, and of the Atlantic seaports, by
means of the artificial communications established
between the valley and the coast, the Mississippi is
less indispensable to them than to the States bordering
it lower down. But it is, nevertheless, of the highest
importance to them, and their reluctance to relinquish
it would materially complicate the difficulties in the
way of a new political arrangement.

A northern confederacy, embracing the north bank
of the Ohio, and the whole basin of the St. Law
rence, would include the pith and enterprise of the
continent. To such an arrangement I found many

356 THE WESTERN WOULD.

intelligent persons, both in New York and New
England, looking forward, whilst the Canadians were
gradually reconciling themselves to it. The divorce
of the northern federation from the system of slavery
would remove one very great objection which the
Canadians entertain to the idea of a junction with
the neighbouring States.'

It is the extent to which we are interested in the
material, that gives a passing interest to the political,
future of America. Should a division of the Republic
take place, there can be no doubt but that the
closest commercial and political alliance would imme
diately spring up between the South and this
country. Once free from the North, the South
would reduce its tariff to the lowest revenue point,
in order to promote the export of its great staple.
The Southern market would in that case be more
supplied than ever with fabrics by England, which
would tend greatly to enhance the export of raw
cotton to this country. It would be thus worth while
to propitiate England ; for whilst the South would
always be sure of the North as a market for her
staple, she would not be so secure of England, who,
if driven to it by interest or necessity, could pro
cure her raw cotton elsewhere.

Whatever obscurity may now hang around the
political future of the Republic, no doubt can exist
as to the destiny of the different communities now
constituting it, in a material point of view. There
can be no question but that the material interests of
the Union, as a whole, would be best subserved by the
maintenance of its political integrity. Its disinte
gration would, however, have no very serious effect
upon the development of the material wealth of the

THE WESTERN WOULD. 357

continent. And it is for this reason, that, in viewing
America as our great industrial rival, we may pay
but little regard to its political fortunes.

In estimating our own position amongst the nations
of the earth, we are too little in the habit of taking
the growing power, wealth, and influence of America
into account. We think we do enough, when we
measure ourselves against the nations of Europe, and
take steps to maintain our supremacy amongst them.
America is too far away to have much influence
upon our political arrangements, and we accordingly
attach but little consequence to her in any light.
This is a great mistake. America is the only power
on earth which we have to dread. We have not to
fear her politically, for reasons already mentioned;
we have not to apprehend any military chastisement
at her hands, for in that respect we know both how to
avenge and to defend ourselves; but we have to fear
the colossal strides which she is taking in industrial
development. We have less reason to dread the com
bined armaments of the world, than the silent and
unostentatious operations of nature, and the progres
sive achievements of arfc, on the continent of America.
We begird ourselves with fleets, and saturate the
community with military and police, and think that
we have done all that is needed for the perpetuation of
our influence and the maintenance of our power. But
in all this we mistake the real source of our power.
What is it but our material wealth ? Napoleon con
fessed that it was the gold more than the arms of
England that humbled him. Our wealth is the result
of our industry. It may be humiliating to confess it,
but it is not by surrounding ourselves by all the
pomp and panoply of war that we can maintain our

358 THE WESTERN WORLD.

position, but by the steady promotion and encourage
ment of our industry. Let our industry flag, and
our unemployed capital will find investment else
where. Let capital once begin to flow from us, and
the stream will soon become so broad and deep as to
drain us, as a nation, of our life blood. Unless our
industry is kept up, America will absorb our capital.
It is like the magnetic mountain that extracted all
the nails from the ship. Let us give it a wide berth
or it will serve us in a similar manner, and leave us
to sink with our cargo. We can only do this by — let
me again repeat it — steadily and zealously promoting
and encouraging our domestic industry.

I have already sufficiently explained the foundation
which America has laid, both in the magnificent
provisions of nature, and the stupendous achievements
of art, for future material greatness. Her resources
in almost every point of view are infinitely greater
than any that we possess. Look at her forests, her
fertile valleys, and vast alluvial plains. Look at the
variety of her productions, including most of those that
are tropical, and all that are yielded by the tempe
rate zone ; and look at her m-ines teeming with coal,
iron, lead, copper, and, as has been just discovered,
with silver and gold. Look again at her enormous terri
tory, and at the advantages she possesses for turning all
her resources into account, in her magnificent systems
of lakes and rivers ; in her extensive sea-coast ; in her
numerous and excellent harbours ; and in her geo
graphical position, presenting, as she does, a double
front to the Old World, or holding out, as it were,
one hand to Asia, and the other to Europe. But
such resources and advantages are only valuable when
properly turned to account. It is only by their being

THE WESTERN WORLD. 359

so that they will become formidable to us. We
have only to look to the race possessing them to de
cide whether they are likely to be turned to account
or not. The Americans are Englishmen exaggerated,
if any thing, as regards enterprise. This is not to
be wondered at, as they have, as a people, more
incentives than we have to enterprise. Of this
we may rest assured, that the most will be made of
the resources and advantages at their disposal. This
is all that has made us great. We have turned our
coal and our iron, and our other resources, to account,
and the world has by turns wondered at and envied
the result. The American stock of coal and of iron
is more than thirty times as great as ours, and more
than twelve times as great as that of all Europe.
Their other resources are in the same proportion, as
compared with ours. And if our resources, turned
to good account, have made us what we are, what
will be the fabric of material greatness which will
yet spring from the ample development of resources
thirty times as great ? If the industry of from twenty
to thirty millions of people, with limited means, have
raised England to her present pinnacle of greatness
and glory, what will the industry of 150,000,000 yet
effect in America, when brought to bear upon re
sources almost illimitable ? The continent will yet be
Anglo-Saxon from Panama to Hudson's Bay. What
Anglo-Saxons have done, circumstanced as we have
been, is but a faint type of what Anglo-Saxons will
yet do, working in far greater numbers, on a far more
favourable field of operation.

It is the consideration that America will yet exhibit,
in magnified proportions, all that has tended to make
England great, that leads one irresistibly, however

3GO THE WESTERN WOULD.

reluctantly, to the conclusion that the power of
England must yet succumb to that of her offspring.
There is, however, this consolation left us, that the
predominant influence in the world will still be in
the hands of our own race. That influence will not
pass to a different race, bat simply to a different
scene of action. It has been England's fate, during
her bright career, to plant new States, which will
inherit her power and her influence after her. On
the continent of North America, on many points
on the coast of South America, at the southern
extremity of Africa, throughout wide Australia, in
New Zealand, in Van Diemen's land, and the Indian
Archipelago, the Anglo-Saxon race will prevail, and
the Anglo-Saxon language be spoken, long after
England's glories have become historic and tradi
tional. These different communities, flourishing
remote from each other, will all be animated by a
kindred spirit, and will cherish a common sentiment
of attachment to their common parent, who will long
exercise a moral influence over them, after her poli
tical power has been eclipsed. Not that England
will not always be able to maintain her position in
Europe. The powers which are destined to over
shadow her are springing up elsewhere, and are of
her own planting. Of these the American Republic,
or Republics, as the case may be, will both politically
and commercially take the lead, when England, hav
ing fulfilled her glorious mission, shall have abdicated
her supremacy, and the sceptre of empire shall have
passed from her for ever.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 361

A CHAPTER ON CALIFORNIA,

IT is related of Columbus, that during one of his
voyages he coasted along the southern shore of Cuba,
with a view to verify his own impression that it was
an island. After sailing for many days to the west
ward, his men became mutinous and unmanageable,
and he was compelled to put back when within half
a day's sail of the western extremity of the island.
Had he pursued his way for a few hours more, he
would have taken a northward course, which would
have brought him to the mouths of the Sabine, the
Mississippi, the Mobile, and the Appalachicola. The
effects which so simple an event might have had upon
the destinies of the Continent, it is not now easy to
speculate upon. The chances would have been, how
ever, that the whole course of Spanish discovery and
settlement would have taken a northerly direction,
and that the America, which is now Anglo-Saxon,
would have passed under the dominion of the crown
of Spain, and been peopled by a Spanish race.

It is also related of Sir Francis Drake, that when
cruising off the north-west coast of America, he
landed in California, and traded with the natives.
He was in search, as Raleigh had been before him,
of golden regions in the West. He was at San
Francisco, but never reached the Sacramento. Had
he done so, and discovered the soil saturated with

v >L. in . R

362 THE WESTERN WORLD.

gold, how different a turn might have been given to
the destinies of the Continent ! It is by such simple
events that the fortunes of nations and continents are
sometimes most profoundly affected. Providence
had better things in store for the continent of North
America than would probably have fallen to its lot
had Columbus doubled the western point of Cuba, or
Drake discovered the buried treasures of the Sierra
Nevada. It was some time afterwards ere the insular
character of Cuba was known, and but a few months
have as yet elapsed since the mineral value of Cali
fornia has been disclosed to the world.

The chapter which I am here induced to add
respecting this latest acquisition of the Republic, has
no necessary connexion with the preceding part of
this work. My reason for adding it is partly to be
found in the intrinsic interest of the subject, and
partly in the effects which it is likely to produce on
the future fortunes of the Republic. Heretofore I
have described nothing but what I have seen. I
make no pretensions to have seen California : but what
follows of a descriptive character respecting it is not
drawn from the numerous accounts of it which have
recently been given to the public, some of them
authentic and some of a surreptitious character, but
from what I heard concerning it in the Senate of the
United States, delivered by one who is intimately
connected with that meritorious officer, Captain Fre
mont, who has done more than any other employe of
the American government to extend our knowledge
of Upper California.

It may be as well first to describe its geographical
position and extent. It is the northern section of an
enormous tract of country, resting on the Pacific

THE WESTERN WORLD. 363

Ocean, and for many years forming a province of the
Mexican republic, under the name of California. It
was afterwards divided into two ; the peninsula of Cali
fornia forming the old or lower province, and the vast
tract extending from the head of the gulf to the
42d parallel of north latitude, and from the Pacific
to the Anahuac Mountains, being erected into a sepa
rate province, under the name of Upper, or New
California. Its total length upon the Pacific is
about 700 miles, and it varies in breadth from 600
to 800 miles. Taking 700 miles as its mean breadth,
its area will be 490,000 square miles, being more than
double the size of France, and nearly quadruple that
of Great Britain. Between it and the States on the
Mississippi extends a vast irreclaimable desert of
nearly a thousand miles in width. It is thus a region
more effectually separated from the populous portion
of the Union, than if so much sea intervened between
them. It has but few good harbours, but the Bay
of San Francisco, the best of them, is one of the finest
in the world.

Upper California is divided into two great sections,
separated from each other by the Sierra Nevada — a
chain of lofty hills, which pursues, throughout its-
whole length, a parallel course with the Pacific, from
150 to 200 miles back from the coast. The section
lying between this mountain chain and the coast is
by far the smaller of the two — the other, which lies
to the eastward from the Sierra Nevada to the Rocky
Mountains, comprising fully four-fifths of the whole
area of California. Much obscurity hangs over the
character and capabilities of this enormous tract of
territory. That it is fertile in the immediate vicinity
of the mountains which bound it on the east and on
R2

364 THE WESTERN WORLD.

the west, there can be no doubt ; whilst the natural
capabilities of the portion of it which abuts towards
the south-east upon New Mexico, are known to be as
great as those of any other section of the continent.
But the enormous area which passes under the general
name of the Great Interior Basin of California, is as
unknown to us as is Central Australia. It will not
long remain so, however, the American government
having already taken effective steps for its survey.
This vast district has been skirted by various ex-
plorators, but none have as yet had the courage or
the means of penetrating into the interior. So far as
it has been examined, it appears to present many
features analogous to those which we know to cha
racterise, to some extent, the interior regions of the
Australian continent. A little distance back from
the hills, it becomes sandy and arid ; the streams
seem to flow internally, apd bodies of salt water have
been discovered in it. To those familiar with the
history of Australian exploration and discovery, this
will recall many of the physical phenomena of that
extraordinary region.

The coast section, lying to the westward of the
Sierra Nevada, is better known, and in every way
better adapted for the habitation of man. It extends
in one elongated valley from the most northerly limit
of the territory to the head of the Gulf of California.
This valley is enclosed between the Sierra Nevada,
and a range of low hills known as the Coast range,
and lying but a short distance back from the Pacific ;
indeed, at many points they dip sheer down into
the ocean. This range, after traversing Upper Cali
fornia, pursues its way southerly through the penin
sula of California, of which, in fact, it forms the

THE WESTERN WORLD. 365

basis. The Sierra Nevada, diverging a little to the
eastward, continues its southerly course, but under
different names, through the Mexican province of
Sonora. The Gulf of California here intervenes
between them, as the valley does higher up; the gulf
being, in fact, a continuation of the valley, but on so
low a level that it is invaded by the Pacific. The
valley thus extends from the head of the gulf to be
yond the line dividing Oregon from California, and
has a mean width of about 125 miles. This valley
constitutes, so far as it has yet been discovered, the
gold region of California.

Such being the geographical position, extent and
configuration of California, it may be as well now to
consider briefly the capabilities of its soil and the
nature of its climate. Of the character of the great
region lying to the east of the Sierra Nevada, but
little that is authentic, as already intimated, is known.
The inference, however, drawn by those most capable
of judging is, that nearly two-thirds of it is a desert,
the arid waste being surrounded by a belt of fertile
land lying under the shelter of the Sierra Nevada on
the west, and under that of the Rocky Mountains on
the east. Towards the north this fertile belt rests on
a chain of small lakes which lie near the Oregon line,
whilst on the south it skirts the province of Sonora.
This belt is capable of producing every species of
grain raised within corresponding latitudes on the
Atlantic side of the Continent.

But by far the most valuable portion of the territory
in regard to soil is the valley already alluded to as con
stituting the coast region. The soil of the valley is in
most places fertile to a degree, producing in abundance
not only Indian corn, rye and barley, but also wheat, the

366 THE WESTERN WORLD.

olive and the vine. It is well irrigated by streams, few
of which descend from the Coast range. From the
direction taken by its streams, the valley seems to
have three great inclinations: one descending towards
the head of the Gulf, a portion of the Colorada, the
largest river of California, passing through it ; another
descending northward towards the Bay of San Fran
cisco, watered by the San Joachim and its tributaries;
and the third dipping towards the south to the same
point, watered by the Sacramento and its tributaries.
The Colorado descends from the Rocky Mountains, not
far from where the Rio Grande and the Red River
take their rise to flow to the opposite side of the con
tinent. Both the San Joachim and the Sacramento
are almost exclusively formed by the numerous
streams which descend from the westerly slopes of the
Sierra Nevada. These streams, which have but brief
courses, run almost parallel to each other, in the
direction of the Pacific, until they reach the lowest
level of the valley, when the land begins to rise again
to form the Coast range. Here they find their way
by a common channel to the Bay of San Francisco,
the San Joachim flowing due north, and the Sacramento
due south to the bay. The two main streams, by
which the different rivers descending from the Sierra
thus find their way to the ocean, flow, for almost
their entire course, parallel to the two ranges of
mountains which enclose the valley. Both are much
nearer to the Coast range than they are to the Sierra.
It will thus be seen, that so far as irrigation is con
cerned, nature has done everything for this favoured
region. With the exception of its more southerly
portion, which dips towards the Gulf, it is traversed
in its whole length by the two streams just named,

THE WESTERN WORLD. 367

which are but the collections of the waters of the
innumerable rivers which, having their rise in the
Sierra, flow westward till they reach the bottom of
the valley. The region thus drained into the Bay of
San Francisco is about 500 miles long, and from 100
to 150 wide. The elongated basin constituting it
appears at one time to have been covered with water,
which at length so accumulated as to break its way
through the Coast range to the Pacific at the point
now forming the bay.

It would be but reasonable to infer, even had we
no positive information upon the subject, that a dis
trict so well irrigated must be fertile. Such is the
case with the coast region of California. Its agricul
tural capabilities attracted to it the attention of Ame
rican settlers, before its incorporation with the Union
was determined upon, and before its golden treasures
were dreamt of. Its wealth, in an agricultural point
of view, consists so far chiefly of live stock. Its ex
ports of hides and tallow have been considerable. It
has also traded very largely in furs.

The wheat produced in the fertile districts of Cali
fornia is of a very superior description, and the annual
product is large, except in years when droughts are
severe and protracted. Nor has California been
backward in the produce of this staple, which it has
exported in considerable quantities, both to Oregon
and to Russian America. Peas and beans are also
easily produced, whilst Indian corn flourishes as an
indigenous grain. Grapes can not only be raised,
but have been produced to a great extent, and con
siderable quantities of wine have been made from
them. Cattle, sheep, mules, horses, goats and swine
are abundant. The mutton of California is described

368 THE WESTERN WORLD.

as of the best flavour, although the wool is very in
ferior, from the want of care in tending the sheep.

Rather unfavourable impressions have long pre
vailed as to the climate of California. That of the
peninsula, which for a long time was the only portion
of the territory at all known, is exceedingly dry, the
country being sterile, chiefly for want of rain. It
has been supposed that the same is the case as
regards the whole region. This is a mistake. With
the exception of occasional droughts, the coast section
of California is well supplied with rain ; the clouds
produced by the evaporations of the Pacific being
deprived of their superabundant moisture by the Coast
range and the Sierra Nevada. In the peninsula the
hills are not high enough to arrest the clouds, which
float over it to fertilize the soils of Sonora and New
Mexico. In the snows which perennially crown the
Sierra in Upper California, its coast region has a
never-failing fountain for the supply of its streams.
What becomes of the rivers which descend the Sierra
on its eastern side and flow towards the interior, is
one of the most interesting of the problems which
have yet to be solved with respect to the great interior
basin. That the climate of that basin is much drier
than that of the coast region, is obvious from the
Sierra intercepting the clouds, which proceed from
the only quarter, the west, from which they there
bring rain. But in the heavy dews which fall, par
ticularly in the vicinity of the Rocky Mountains,
nature has provided a species of compensation for the
want of rain. It is to these dews that many of the
most productive districts of New Mexico, which has
been incorporated along with California into the
Union, owe their fertility.

THE WESTERN WORLD. 369

Such, then, is the region which the late war with
Mexico has added to the territories of the United
States. It presents a broad fertile belt upon the Pacific,
a sweep of productive territory, extending around the
interior basin, and the exuberant province of New
Mexico, rich both in agricultural and in mineral wealth.
The new acquisition was considered a great prize be
fore the Valley of the Sacramento disclosed its hidden
treasures. And so it was, for it would not be easy
to over-estimate its importance to the Union in a
commercial or a political light. The province of New
Mexico forms its south-easterly portion. In more
points than one is this portion of it an important
acquisition. From the Lakes down to New Mexico
a vast desert intervenes, as already intimated, between
the States on the Mississippi and the territory on
the Pacific, from which new States will yet spring.
It is not until we descend to the latitude of New
Mexico that we find the continent crossed from sea
to sea by a tract of fertile and practicable country.
This province will thus form an important link in the
chain of communication which will yet be established
between the two sea-boards. In addition to this, it
will, from its known mineral wealth, and the fertile
character of the numerous valleys by which it is inter
sected, soon attract to it a large and enterprising
population. The importance of having such a popu
lation midway between the two sides of the continent
is obvious. They will yet constitute the hardiest of
the heterogeneous population of the Union, the
country which they will inhabit being of a rugged
and mountainous character. Indeed, New Mexico
and the south-eastern portion of California may be
regarded as the Switzerland of America.

370 THE WESTERN WORLD.

It did not require, therefore, the recent discovery
in the valley of the Sacramento to make their new
acquisition valuable in the eyes of the American
people. That event has not only enhanced its value
to them, but has attracted to it universal attention.

In a former part of this work, whilst traversing
with the reader the Southern Atlantic States, I drew
his attention to the only region in the Union then
known as the gold region. I described it as extending
from the basin of the St. Lawrence in a south-westerly
direction to the northern counties of Alabama. The
length of this region is 700 miles, and its average
width is from 80 to 100. In approaching Alabama,
it diverges into Tennessee. It lies chiefly to the east
of the Allegany Mountains, and between their dif
ferent ridges. Some branches of it have been traced
west of the mountains. Throughout the whole of
this region gold is found in more or less quantity, the
auriferous belt being richest in its yield in North
Carolina and Virginia. But, as already shown, it has
not proved itself sufficiently productive at any one
point to be very extensively or systematically worked.
The gold is generally found in the beds of the rivers
or by their banks, the great bulk of that produced
having been so by washing it from the deposit in
which it is found. In some instances it has been
found in lumps, embedded in slate and quartz. When
I was thus describing this auriferous belt lying at the
bases of the Alleganies, the gold region of California
was unknown to Europe. From the descriptions which
we have since received of it, both in connexion with
its geological formation and the state in which the
gold is found in it, it appears to present many points
of analogy to the gold region on the Atlantic side of

THE WESTERN WOKLD. . 371

the continent. So far as that of California has yet
been discovered, it is nearly equal in extent to the
other, its length being 600 miles, and its width over
100. The two regions differ more in the quantity of
gold which they yield than in its quality, or in any
other circumstance with which we are acquainted
connected with them in their auriferous capacity.

There can be little doubt but that the origin of the
gold found in the valleys of the San Joachim and the
Sacramento, is the Sierra Nevada. It has for ages
been washed down into the plain by the torrents
descending from the mountains. That the whole
range is rich in the precious ore is evident from the
extent to which it has been found in the valleys, and
the quantities in which it has been discovered in the
rocks and amongst the hills, Whether mines will
yet be opened in the mountains and worked, it is very
difficult to say. The rich treasures which they en
close may lie beyond the line of perpetual congela
tion, where they will bid defiance to the approaches
of man. It is by no means improbable that the great
interior basin is skirted on the west by an auriferous
belt, for the golden torrents may have flowed down
both slopes of the Sierra.

Many are prone to believe that the gold of Cali
fornia is only to be found on the surface, and that its
stock will soon be exhausted. The state in which it
is discovered in the valley, is no criterion of the nature
or productiveness of the mines in the mountains. So
far as the gold has been discovered, not in the posi
tion to which it has been washed by successive tor
rents, but imbedded in the rock at the bases of the
Sierra, it certainly comes very near the surface. But
if we are guided by the analogy afforded by almost

372 THE WESTERN WORLD.

all the American mines now worked, this does not
make against the productiveness of the gold mines
of California. Almost all the mineral wealth of the
Union, hitherto discovered, develops itself close to
the surface. In some cases the coal of Pennsylvania is
mixed with the very soil ; whilst, at some points,
the great coal-bed of Virginia approaches within a
few feet of the surface. The iron ore in most of
the States is also found at but little depth. The
lead in the north-western section of Illinois lay
in such quantities on the surface, that the Indians,
who had no notion of mining, used to turn it to
account. And so with the copper in the vicinity
of Lake Superior — huge masses of it being some
times found lying exposed to the sun. Yet, not
withstanding their superficial richness, all these mines
are found to be productive to a great depth, whilst
in many cases the deeper they are worked the more
productive do they become. Judging, therefore, from
what is known of the disposition and extent of the
mineral wealth of the continent, from the Lakes to the
Gulf, and from the Atlantic to the Mississippi, no
inference need be drawn of the poverty of the mines
of California, from the gold being found either upon,
or close to the surface.

There are several routes from the Atlantic sea
board to California, but the safest and most prac
ticable at present is that by Panama. From that city
to the Columbia a line of steamers has been esta
blished, each steamer calling on its way north and
south, at San Francisco or Monterey. Parties not
choosing to proceed by this route, may cross the desert
from Missouri, and descend upon the Pacific, after
penetrating the defiles of the Rocky Mountains, and

THE WESTERN WOULD. 373

those of the Sierra Nevada ; but it is necessary in
taking this route to proceed in great numbers, in fact
to form a caravan, such as is formed to cross the
deserts of Africa. There is another route by Santa
Fe, through New Mexico. This will, undoubtedly,
at no distant day, be the main route to the Pacific.
The sea voyage round Cape Horn is from 15,000 to
17,000 miles in length ; a voyage which few parties
will undertake, but such as may be driven by neces
sity to do so.

Twenty years will not elapse ere the Atlantic and
Pacific are connected together by a line of railway.
The construction of a railway from the Mississippi to
the mouth of the Columbia was seriously spoken of
in 1846, and, during my stay in Washington, more
than one plan for such a project was presented to
Congress. This was before the Republic had added
700 miles of coast to its territory on the Pacific, and
consequently before the gold region of California be
came the property of the Union. If a railway was
talked of as a desirable thing then, its construction is
likely to be expedited now.

It is impossible at present to calculate the effect
which this startling discovery is likely to have upon
the destinies of the Union. If gold abounds in Cali
fornia to anything like the extent supposed, the con
sequences will be such as to embrace the whole
civilized world. The bullion market will be seriously
affected, and gold will become abundant as a medium
of exchange. This will be a most desirable result to
see accomplished. But there is another point of view
in which the discovery will be attended with the
most important consequences. Hitherto the Pacific
side of America has played but an insignificant part in

374 THE WESTERN WOULD.

the commercial and political arrangements of the world.
Emigrants are now flocking to it from all quarters ;
and many years will not elapse ere numerous and
energetic communities extend from Vancouver's Island
to the head of the Gulf of California. These com
munities will not only traffic with South America,
but they will also institute a trade with Asia. Means
of speedy personal transit between Asia and America
will soon follow, and the shortest route from Europe
to Canton will yet be by the Bay of San Francisco.
When the circumstances exist which will give rise to
these arrangements, how far they may revolutionize
the interests of the world it is now impossible to tell.
It is evident, however, that the time is near at hand
when the Asiatic trade of America will be carried on
across the continent, and when the United States will
form, as it were, the steppir»^ -stone between Western
Europe and Eastern Asia. This will complete the
political and commercial triumph of America.*

* As stated in a note to a former part of the work, the subject of
a great line of railway across the continent has been earnestly taken
up by some of the leading statesmen of the Union, and neither its
inception nor its completion can now long be delayed.

So far the gold regions of California have, on the whole, not falsi
fied the expectations that were formed of them.

So great has been the flow of population to the Pacific Coast, that
even already is California prepared for admission as a State into
the Union. Its admission will take place during the present session
of Congress, unless the attitude which it has assumed, in reference to
the subject of slavery, should induce the South to throw difficulties
in the way. Should there be sufficient to delay the event, California
may not again ask for admission, but declare itself independent.
In that case, it would be a greater thorn in the side of the South,
than as a free member of the Confederacy.

THE END.

LONDON :
R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL.

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Book Slip-20m-3,'60(A9205s4)458

-195113-

Mackay, A*
Western world.

Call Number:

E166
M3

M3

\&5D
V.3

195113