republican ladies, who are mostly under French influence, appeared in hats of such enormous dimensions, that an honest countryman of the west observed, they looked as if they were sitting in the back seat of a great covered wagon. A few of the most sturdy republican young fellows in the meantime wore little short coatees, with broad backs, and buttons at a mighty distance from each other. The federal bucks and belles, however, sided with England. The former, at least those who had travelled, put on corsets, wore long-skirted, narrow-backed coats, so tight that it was generally supposed they were buttoned by machinery. Then they suffered their hair to grow into a mighty bunch behind, and walked with the genuine Rutland wriggle; that is to say, on tiptoe, and with a most portentous extension of the hinder parts. But the ladies who professed fashionable fealty to England, did incontinently disclaim the covered wagons, and equipt themselves in little bonnets, shaped like a clam-shell; and because the prince-regent did affect fat women, contrived their dresses in such a manner, that what with puffings, &c. they looked almost as broad as they were long. All this was, however, reversed by the next arrival, I suppose; and what succeeded it I am not able to tell.

Now is it not a sin and a shame, that none of our fashionable bucks or belles have genius to invent a new mode of their own, or influence to carry it into general adoption? If the fashionable people had any spirit, they would make their own fashions, rather than borrow them thus servilely from abroad, by

which means they are never in the fashion, since, before it can get here, some other has taken its place, where it was originally adopted. If we only had a national costume, national music, national dances, national literature, national feelings, and a few other trifles, what a respectable and glorious nation we would soon become! So long, however, as it is the test of refinement and fashion to imitate the kept mistresses of kings and princes in dress; Bond-street loungers in manners; Italian castrati in music; and border-ballads in our poetry-so long will we deservedly pass for a contemptible imitative race. All this, I dare say, smacks of vandalism; and should it ever get to the ears of the English reviewers, who are lords of opinions in this country, will very likely get me a sound drubbing. I don't care, not I:while I live, move, and have a being, I will continue to raise my voice, feeble as it is, against that habit of imitation, that want of manly, national self-confidence and respect, which is the characteristic of those great cities most especially, that give the tone to fashionable manners, modes, and opinions, all along the Atlantic coast. It is this which represses the genius of our country, and palsies exertions that are sure never to be properly estimated; it is this which calls down upon us the contempt of foreigners;-it is this which makes it the criterion of refinement to throw away every feeling of respect and affection for the land of our birth,-and it is this alone that stands in the way of this nation very soon becoming one of the first in the world. Farewell.

LETTER XXI.

DEAR FRANK,

THE two principal inquiries made by the sage Pantagruel, the traveller of princes, and the prince of travellers, when he came to a strange place, were as to the quality of the wine and the state of learning. These he considered as most worthy his attention; and I shall follow his example; first, because he was a mighty king, and legitimate withal; secondly, because he was a giant; and thirdly, because I agree with him in opinion. As to the wine of the south, it is good; and if you don't believe it—veni; vidi; vici-which means, come, taste, and try.

Having settled the first Pantagruelian inquiry, we will proceed to the second. It has been remarked, I believe, that large congregations of men are necessary to a flourishing state of literature. Cities are for that reason essential; they bring together great masses of people; they furnish conveniences of all kinds for the publication of books, and in the vast variety of character, as well as incident they afford, present the materials for composing them. Where a people is sparely distributed over a great surface, and men reside at a distance from each other, it is not to be expected that new books will multiply, because, in the first place, there will be few readers and VOL. IR

buyers; and in the second, the means of publication are not at hand. Printing-presses and printers are the growth of cities, and without these, books multiply but slowly in manuscript.

Probably not one-fifth of the people of Virginia reside in towns. By far the larger portion live in the country all the year round, and from the great extent of their plantations, in comparative solitude. They exchange long sociable visits it is true, but the greater part of the time they have about them none but the domestic circle. Having plenty of slaves, they do not work themselves, and hence they have a large portion of spare time at their disposal, to be spent either in sedentary or active amusements, just as habit or inclination may prompt. Now people who live much alone, only come into collision with each other occasionally, and all the rest of the time see nobody around but dependants, will naturally acquire all the characteristics of independence, all its faults, and all its virtues. They will be little influenced by the opinions of others, with whom they have little or no intercourse, and consequently think and act for themselves. They will be under less restraint than those who are hemmed in on every side in crowded cities and thickly populated countries, and their characters will consequently assume a more bold original cast.

I think I have observed this in the people of Virginia-I mean the genuine Tuckahoe, of the old Saxon breed. The cockney, accustomed to the nice formalities of city drawing-rooms, and the restrained

intercourse of their occupants, will at once be struck with the frank, off-hand candour of a Virginian, and almost mistake it for blunt rusticity, if not downright rudeness; whereas it is nothing more than an exhibition of that independence which is the result of his situation and modes of life. He will surprise you by differing on subjects which you had supposed quite settled on the authority of the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews, or some other equally infallible oracle, because in his retirement he has been accustomed to think for himself, and adopt his own conclusions. Above all, he will exhibit his peculiarities, his virtues, and his faults, right out before a stranger, without disguise or apology, because he has passed his life on his plantation among his slaves, before whom he did not choose to take the trouble of putting on a mask. This characteristic is apt to make him somewhat odious to the cockney, who has lived all his life in a crowd, and acquired the habit of perpetual restraint, or in other words, unceasing hypocrisy, the indispensable armour of the world. He will naturally accuse him of being ill-bred, because we always apply the test of experience in forming our estimate of manners; and a person unacquainted with the value of frankness and independence, will be apt enough to mistake them for coarseness or impudence.

But how, you will perhaps ask, does all this prosing apply to literature, which was the subject of my story? Faith, not much, Frank; but I believe I can make out some connexion, if I am fairly put to it. This independence of character, in a great degree pre