An Englishman takes a bath in the morning; walks with his children in the garden; eats leisurely his cheerful breakfast; learns all the news; goes to his business and works hard till two o'clock, and then his work for the day is done. He spends a full hour at his dinner-table; rides a few miles with his wife and children; and devotes the evening to society. He is satisfied if he is slowly accumulating; takes life easy, and enjoys himself as he goes along.

The American rises earlier; eats a hasty and hearty breakfast without speaking; has no time to converse, for he is planning for the day. He plunges into business; catches a bite at one o'clock "if it comes handy;" works on till dark; goes home worn out; drinks a cup of tea, and sits down to his desk to calculate. If his children climb his knee, "the envied kiss to share," the mother is summoned to take them away and send them to bed, for their father cannot be interrupted: he must attend to his business.

The wife sits in the corner the livelong evening, communing with herself. If her husband takes his seat on the sofa by her side (which is actually sometimes done), she says, "Well, hubby, I'm glad you've got through with your business. Now I must read you a word in this charming new work of Irving's."

"Oh, fudge, Mary, don't bother me with such trash. I'll buy books, as many as you please" (which is true as holy writ), "but you must read them. But

CLEMENT'S SPECULATION.

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now throw aside your book, and we will talk about something of more consequence. I've made five hundred dollars to-day as sure as fate.”

"Why, my dear, I'm very glad. Pray tell me all about it." The book is thrown upon the table, and the dutiful wife listens to her lord's report.

66 There's young -, you know, has been out to Iowa. Well, he's made an independent fortune in six weeks. He took away only $2500, and he holds the deeds of fourteen thousand acres of land, besides twenty-seven lots in the new city just laid out in County."

"Well, dear, but tell me how you've made your $500 to-day."

"Why, I bought five of his city lots for $500; and I could sell them to-morrow for twice the money."

"But, my dear, have you ever seen them ?"

66

Why, no! I've not seen them exactly, butbless my soul, only think of it-buy five splendid city lots for $100 apiece. I don't want to see them. I know I can sell them for double the money -yes, treble-but I won't sell them at any price; I'll keep them; and I've been thinking we had better sell out, and move to Iowa-it's only two thousand miles out there."

1

"Oh! Clement, I beg you won't think of it! We have just got ready to enjoy life now. You have money enough; we are rich; we have the prettiest house in town; all our friends are here; our garden, and

trees, and flowers, and our good old New-England home. Give it all up! Why, you will break my heart, so there."-So the plan don't work very well. He goes to bed in silence, and she sits up to weep a while; but at last, consoling herself with the thought that

"As long as a woman's bless'd with a tongue,
She'll be sure to have her own way,"

she dries her tears, and takes up her book.

Go there in six months, and you find the house deserted: the family have "gone to the West." On arriving at his destination, Clement finds his city lots two hundred and fifty miles in the woods, fifty from a clearing, and twenty from any house, in the midst of a dense forest, somewhere between the farthest settler and the jumping-off place-the whole city occupied by trees, and ruled by a Common Council of bears, wolves, "coons, and other varmint,” their silent sway disturbed only by the plaintive notes of Mary as she sings of her old NewEngland home; the sound of Clement's axe cutting his own wood now; or the sharp crack of the wild Indian's rifle you know the rest. Of how many thousand stories like this we have heard! Of how many Americans can it be said, they started on nothing-worked hard--got suddenly rich-became dyspeptic-just got ready to enjoy life-lost their fortune by speculation, or-were blown up in a steamboat!

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There is with us, among all classes, a feverish desire to be suddenly rich. There are strong bilious tendencies in our climate, and the whole American people are nervous, excitable, and characterized by great cerebral activity. The American launches upon a wild, foaming current the moment he enters the business world. Money is his object. in the restless pursuit of this, he gives himself no leisure for literature, none for society, except at some great, vulgar jam, ycleped a party. At forty he is an old man; and in five years more he is dead. it is nonsense to expect such men can live long-as soon look for a long-lived race-horse. We are the least practically philosophical of any people in the world.

If a Wall-street banker were to leave his office at two o'clock, to spend the rest of the day with his family, he would be hissed on 'Change. Go into any town in the United States, and you will find elderly men in the full zenith of acquisition, and octogenarians who have not yet made enough. It is lamentable.

No, there can be no comparison instituted between the English and Americans in regard to the economy of domestic life. And I think that while our girls, from fifteen to twenty, are far more beautiful and lovely than English girls of the same age ever are, yet their women quite as strikingly surpass those of our own country in personal appearance. The American girl is beautiful as a wild flower, but almost as fragile. She marries before her form has

gained its fair and full proportion; the cares of a family press heavily upon the young mother; the brilliant colour goes from her cheek; and in a few years she dies of consumption. I should think that, as a general fact, the American ladies marry at least five or six years younger than the English. They confine themselves to the close air of ill-ventilated apartments; are not in the habit of walking any distance, or of riding on horseback; have the cares, generally much of the hard labour of the parlour, nursery, and kitchen, thrown upon them; seldom know what a bath means-why, it is a wonder they live so long.

The voices of the English women are much sweeter-their laugh is music; they have a fine sense of propriety, but are not fastidious: neither are they prudish. Captain Marryat, or some one else, tells a story of an American girl who dressed the legs of her sofa in pantalettes. I never have met with just such a case; but should not wonder if there were such ; for it quite shocks an American girl to hear an insinuation that ladies have those shocking things, called "legs" and "knees"-in England. She would fain have us believe her pretty feet are pinned to. This is prudery! You cannot find it in England; and no man will say it is because Englishwomen are not modest and virtuous.

But you will not understand me to speak aught against my fair countrywomen. I think England deserves the praise in these things, and I cheerfully