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ferred to that future state, in order that his preconceived notions of justice should be there vindicated. In this case, therefore, a deviation from nature is generally necessary. But we need not give any further examples to enforce the rule laid down. If the few mentioned were the only ones which could be adduced, it would seem established in the fullest sense of its

terms.

The style of novels should be sprightly and piquant, racy, nervous, and easy; sometimes imitating the grave

marked characters, sufficient to people the scenes of a well wrought fiction, all thrown together, to contribute by their words and actions to the conduct of a symmetrical plot. Further, no man's true disposition or mental qualities appear at first sight, and in all that he says and does. A lifetime scarce serves fully to develope them. In fact, human nature is so complex, in each instance made up of so many different and even conflicting elements, that every day spent in the company of our most intimate companions must teach us something new in regard to their characters. All per-stateliness of history, but much oftener the light flow sons, too, say and do much in every situation that contributes nothing to our knowledge of them. But in fiction must be congregated, and put in harmonious action, a large number of highly interesting and strongly marked personages. No word or deed, not serving to illustrate some one's peculiarities, or to carry on the thread of the story, should be suffered to clog its course. Character must be so concentrated, that the reader may at once comprehend the whole, and experience, from every further exhibition of it, but the strengthening or renewal of his first impressions. But this cannot be done, if an author attempt to delineate mind in all its natural complexity of feature and expression, and, therefore, the most interesting characters are those in which some one or a very few striking peculiarities are personified. Such an one the reader is able perfectly and at once to understand, at the same time that he feels a great degree of self-satisfaction, with what he is apt to consider his own ready discernment, displayed in this act of comprehension.

of the drama. It admits of much varied ornament. The most fanciful images and flowers of poetry may, with good effect, be profusely shed over its plainer frame-work. It is in the dramatic or conversational parts that the author's talent is most severely tested, and most frequently fails. Here are to be avoided the opposite faults of too close an imitation of the colloquial freedom and vulgarity of real life, and the measured, pompous style of Johnsonian phraseology. Mr. Cooper most frequently sins in the latter respect, by making his characters of every degree speak too much after the fashion of books; but less, perhaps, in the volumes before us, than in some of his previous fictions. The novelist must not suppose,

"Ut nihil intersit, Davusne loquatur, et audax Pythias, emuncto lucrata Simone talentum, An custos famulusque dei Silenus alumni." But it is in bad taste to make every menial a sworn enemy of all grammatical rules, and every well educated man, a pompous declaimer. Indeed in the former case as might have been mentioned under the last head, nature should usually be refined upon: her pictures are frequently too coarse and indelicate for eyes polite. But here greater license may be taken, when it is part of an author's plan, to represent the true character and manners of any particular class. And, indeed, the style and tone of conversation must always depend much upon the object proposed--whether the writer aims merely at making his story interesting, or wishes also to make it a vehicle for religious, moral, literary, or political discussion. Mr. Cooper tells us that he intends, in the sequel, to attempt a delineation of American society, and the execution of this plan he has commenced in the work before us. Of course such a subject properly gives rise to much grave and oratorical conversation.

When a person is acted upon by strong passions, especially when they operate to oppress and weigh down the spirit, it is unnatural for the feelings to be expressed in language. The stronger emotions of the soul, either because the inadequacy of words is felt, or because in moments of extreme agitation our relations with surrounding humanity are forgotten, or our sense is incoherent and confused, are generally lost in silence, or betrayed only by inarticulate or vague exclamations, or by mere bodily action-such as the working of the countenance. But in the drama, where the whole plot is developed in conversation, it is necessary so far to deviate from nature, as to make the deepest feelings and emotions find expression in language exactly significant and descriptive; and this is the most difficult part of the dramatist's task. The same departure from nature is also frequently required in the novel. Those tales are the most interesting, in which there For, conversation though not its only, is its most effec-is no attempt to throw a deep mystery over the issue tive resource. An exhibition of mere dumb feeling will not always be enough: a deeper interest may be given to the narrative by dramatic passages-especially to the delineation of character.

Every fiction should have a moral, not formally set forth at the end, as is customary in the case of fables, yet, in common, most fully developed and illustrated in the conclusion of the narrative. Vice ought usually to be punished and virtue rewarded. The principal actors in the varied scenes over which we have looked, should meet with the fate, which, in a spirit of justice, we have anticipated. Now, in this world, rewards and punishments are not, to our view, thus impartially apportioned. On this undisputed fact has been founded one argument in favor of a future state of suffering. But it is evident that the novel reader cannot be re

of every event, and the character of each person introduced-to confound the reader by great surprises-results contradicting all his expectations. It is much better that he should anticipate something of the sequel, if the disclosure be made artfully, so that he may attribute much to his own superior discernment. We have already hinted at the advantage of keeping readers in a good humor with themselves. We believe there is nothing which contributes more to the interest which they take in a work. When a striking character is introduced, if a person perusing the sketch has ever had any, even the most confused, crude, imperfect conception of one at all similar, this conception is immediately brought into vivid remembrance, and, though reflecting its light principally from the other, appears often as an original from which that has been copied. VOL. IV-92

At least, the reader feels as if his observations had been as acute as those of the author. And this coincidence of conception is almost certain to take place, whenever the picture presented is true, in its substance, to nature. If the reader can almost imagine that he himself is tracing out the story; and, if, while one event after another is slowly unfolded, he seems, ever and anon, to catch a glimpse of what yet remains hidden to persons of sight less quick and minds more dull of comprehension, he takes a double interest in his occupation.

But with the occasion and the place comply;
Conceal his force, nay, sometimes seem to fly.
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream."

It seems necessary, on introducing a new character, to give some general idea of the leading peculiarities personified, in order to direct and concentrate attention; but, as much as possible, the reader should be left to form his own notion of each one, from the subsequent developments of words and actions. A single well drawn scene will impress upon him the characters of the A novel would seem to depend for its excellence various actors, therein, more forcibly than the most lamuch less upon the plot than is usually imagined. A bored description. We think that Mr. Cooper evinces ready invention is often spoken of as the most important great tact in this particular. With little preliminary faculty of a writer of fiction. But we think the sha-form, all his personages are placed before us, to speak ding has more to do with the general effect than the outline; and, therefore, that great skill in mixing and laying on the colors is preferable to proficiency in the art of drawing; though the latter is by no means of small importance. A plot may be so meager that nothing will supply the deficiency; and that every effort to make up for it by a profusion of incident only serves to render it the more apparent. But meager. ness of plot is not one of the most common faults of novel writers. More fail in the embellishment than in the frame-work of their fictions. Incompleteness of outline is a still rarer defect; for most authors form a general sketch of the whole at first, to be afterwards filled up, and extended to the dimensions of two or three volumes. A tale may be finished and complete in itself and yet be only part of a continuous narrative-continuous as regards some important personage therein, or in respect of the whole plot. Of the former kind are three of Cooper's previous fictions, in all which appears the same character-the most interesting one which they exhibit-though in each under a different guise: first, as Leatherstocking; then, as Hawkeye; and lastly, as the Trapper. Tales of the second kind cannot well be as complete in themselves as those just mentioned; but still, like Ernest Maltravers, may conclude with a disposition of the various actors, which might be satisfactory if no sequel were promised, and, which at any rate, makes a six months' interval be

and act for themselves. The reader's idea of them is perhaps the better for not being in every respect precise. His comprehension should be only so exact, that each new development should appear but to strengthen first impressions, having, at the same time, a certain freshness and novelty. Mere bodily attractions or accomplishments, however well described, cannot make a character interesting. Even the highest order of female beauty, exciting as in the reality it may be, cannot of itself, in fiction, though never so glowingly depicted, awaken those feelings akin to the warmest love, which novel-readers often experience. Mental and moral qualifications are those which strike most forcibly, and they always seem to draw after them, at least, a vague notion of bodily appearance. We always form an idea of the person and carriage of those by whose endowments of mind and heart, however exhibited, we have been interested. None can read Bulwer's highly wrought delineation of the brilliant genius and glowing soul of Florence Lascelles—her commanding intellect and sparkling wit; her proud self-confidence, yet complete devotion-without robing these spiritual attributes in the fairest drapery of earth, to whose bright tints and graceful folds the novelist's description can add scarce any line of beauty, or delicate richness of hue. A character, then, which is to hold an important place in should be developed in action; and, of course, one, in the story, does not need much formal explanation, but which it is not intended that we should feel any par ticular interest, needs no description at all. This leads It is scarcely possible, and not at all necessary, that a us to remark, that, where a character is introduced continual and deeply exciting interest should be kept merely en passant, and takes but a momentary part in up throughout every part of a novel : indeed, the read-the scene, it should not be made interesting to the reader's feelings will hardly bear such prolonged tension: er, lest a feeling of disappointment follow its disappear satiety and exhaustion are apt to be the consequence. ance. Such a disappointment we feel at the speedy It has been remarked of a late English work of fiction-fate of Brooks, the gallant young sailor, who during "Tom Cringle's Log❞—that, though on its original pub-Paul Powis, the hero of Cooper's story, with the recog the fight with the Arabs on the coast of Africa, greets lication, by monthly chapters, in the pages of a maga-nition of a former acquaintance in sea service, and then is zine, it delighted all its readers, after being compacted into the form of a book, the profusion of exciting interest which it contained, highly entertaining when doled out in small portions, became wearisome and palled on the appetite. The author may sometimes sleep in order that his readers should enjoy occasional repose.

tween the two parts an easily tolerable state of proba

tion.

"operi in longo fas est obrepere somnum,"

very coolly despatched, and, afterwards, not even remembered in the recapitulation of the killed and wounded. A character, after being once so presented to the reader, that he seems to have gotten a general comprehension of its peculiarities, ought not to change in any important particular, except where, at first, a mask has been worn to hide the true features. Of such a fault al

saith Horace perhaps he might better have said with so we have an example in the work before us. John

our own poet,

"A prudent chief not always does display

His powers in equal ranks and fair array;

Effingham-the cold, sarcastic, skeptical wit—becomes, beside the death-bed of Mr. Monday, a humane and attentive nurse-a tender, warm-hearted and benevo

coast. These introductory scenes are of a highly interesting and stirring nature, are well depicted, and, besides, give an admirable opportunity, which the author skilfully improves, to introduce the various characters above noticed to the reader.

lent friend. The change undoubtedly makes him ap- er, cannot point him out, and, at last, after being carried pear more amiable; but it mystifies and discourages some distance into the channel, hoping that a boat the reader, who had thought his character perfectly which pursues, and has on board a person who can well understood. identify the man, may overtake the ship, is obliged to Thus ends our preface, and now we come to the in- leave her, much to the joy of all the passengers, who troduction-of Mr. Cooper to our readers; for we are have become greatly interested in Davis and his young as fond of formal introductions as Captain Truck him- wife, though not before the chase is apparently taken self. When we first heard that 'Homeward-Bound-up by the Foam, a British corvette, cruising on the A Tale of the Sea,' was in press, we hailed with delight the novelist's return to his own good ship and ancient cruising ground; for, with many others, we had lamented his late rover life, and thought that he was gaining neither honor nor gold thereby. And when the book made its appearance, in its plain, rather The Foam continues the pursuit day after day, until slovenly American dress, eagerly did we seek after it, it can be no longer doubtful that her object is to overand, with the most agreeable anticipations, sit down to haul the packet. Captain Truck, fearful that some of the perusal of it, endeavoring to forget or overlook the his sailors may have been guilty of smuggling tobacco, last few years, and to connect together those longer and thus have made the ship liable to seizure, is fertile past, the present and the future, in a continuous chain in expedients for escape; but every morning's dawn of happy recollections, agreeable sensations, and bright-reveals the corvette still in sight and in chase, despite ening prospects. If we rose disappointed from the the manœuvres which the darkness has covered, until task, commenced in such a pleasant frame of mind, it was not because the book seemed entirely devoid of merit; and if, in the following pages, we blame more than we praise, as an apology we would say,

"Indignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus.'

And here should it in justice be acknowledged, that the story has interested us much, and that we look, with impatience for the sequel; not however with such high-wrought expectation as welcomed the announcement of these volumes.

To begin at the beginning, we must remark that Mr. Cooper's preface seems to us one of the most unfortunate specimens of preface-writing, which we remember ever to have fallen upon. When we say that it is a childish attempt at mock naïveté, we express in terms hardly strong enough our own impression. With this brief notice of it, however, we pass to the story itself, of which, in order that our observations may be the better understood, we shall give a brief outline.

the packet is far out of her course, and her captain contemplates running to the Cape de Verde islands to gain a neutral ground. A dreadful gale ensues; both vessels, after lying-to as long as possible, are obliged to scud before the wind. The Foam gains rapidly on her chase; at the morning dawn she appears in the dim light careering on close in the Montauk's wake; then they are beam and beam, and for one fearful moment seem about to come into collision; but "affrighted," they recede; the corvette bounds past, driven before the gale, and soon disappears from the horizon, Captain Truck benevolently conjecturing that she has found a rocky bed on the shores of Africa. The Montauk afterwards is dismasted, and, another vessel bound to New York falling in with her, all the passengers, except the dramatis persona of the novel, who, for Mr. Cooper's convenience, prefer to remain, are transferred to the latter. Jury masts are then erected, but soon "land, ho!" is the cry, and they find themselves near the African coast. At a little distance, high up on the sand, The scene is laid principally on the ocean, and is lies a Danish vessel. They visit her, and find her to dated two years back. Mr. Edward Effingham, a wi- have been rifled by the Arabs; and not far off is disdower, with his lovely daughter, Eve, and his cousin, covered the body of one of the crew murdered by these John Effingham, set sail from London, in the Montauk savages. Captain Truck determines to possess himpacket, of New York, Captain Truck. Among the pas-self of the Dane's spars; he manages to get his vessel sengers they meet with two gentlemen, Mr. Blunt and Mr. Sharp, whom they recognise as former acquaintances, having met them in their rambles over the continent, both of them now travelling under false names; one from mere caprice, the other perhaps for a more solid reason. Besides these are introduced to the reader, Sir George Templemore, a silly English baronet, delighting in a plenitude of costly clothing, fine jewelry, and splendid "notions"-particularly in a set of razors, a dressing case, and thirty-six pair of pantaloons; Mr. Dodge, a Yankee newspaper editor, who has paid a flying visit of six months to Europe, has "seen all he warnts to see," and is returning to resume his station beside the forms of "The Dodgetown Active Enquirer," and to publish voluminous notes of foreign travel; and Mr. Monday, an itinerant mercantile agent. While the packet is getting under-weigh, a police officer comes on board with a warrant for a steerage passenger named Davis, but, not knowing the face of his intended prison

safely moored within the reefs lining the coast; and leaving the Effinghams, with Mr. Sharp and Mr. Blunt, on board, takes all the rest, both seamen and passengers, to the wreck, which is some leagues off, concealed from view by an intervening point of land. The spars, after a bloodless encounter with the Arabs, are unshipped and formed into a raft; and, on the second night, the successful party moor near the point which hides the Montauk from sight. In the meantime the ship is visited by the barbarians; the passengers, under the guidance of Mr. Blunt, who proves an expert seaman, escape in the long-boat, after many perils, and, on the dawn of the next morning, fall in with Captain Truck and his party. After a desperate struggle, and the loss of several lievs, the Montauk is rescued, her new masts are stepped, and she is gotten again to sea. During these adventures, Mr. Blunt becomes Paul Powis, and Mr. Sharp, Sir George Templemore-the other passenger of that name proving but a pseudo-baronet. Only

the reader, however, is acquainted with these changes, | the passage extracted from his preface, that a small the Effinghams had known the truth from the first, and part of his original purpose has grown up into an inthe others remain in ignorance. Soon after the escape from the Arabs, Mr. Monday dies on board, from wounds received in the fight. When at the point of death he confides to Mr. John Effingham and Mr. Blunt some sealed papers, not to be opened until after his

decease.

The remainder of the voyage to New York is prosperous; but just off Sandy Hook appears the Foam! She recognizes her chase, and her commander, Captain Ducie, asks permission to come on board the latter, where he explains the object of his pursuit-a forger, who has escaped from England with a large sum of government moncy. The soi-disant baronet turns out to be the criminal, and is delivered up. Paul Powis also returns with Captain Ducie, under circumstances apparently disagreeable, but not explained to the other passengers, or to the reader. In his hurry, he carries off with him the sealed papers left by Mr. Monday, as before mentioned. The Effinghams, Sir George Templemore, and Mr. Dodge disembark safely on American ground. Here ends the story for the present; but a sequel is promised. Mr. Cooper says in his preface, "In one respect, this book is a parallel to Franklin's well-known apologue of the hatter and his sign. It was commenced with a sole view to exhibit the present state of society in the United States, through the agency, in part, of a set of characters with different peculiarities, who had freshly arrived from Europe, and to whom the distinctive features of the country would be apt to present themselves with greater force, than to those who had never lived beyond the influence of the things portrayed. By the original plan, the work was to open at the threshold of the country, or with the arrival of the travellers at Sandy Hook, from which point the tale was to have been carried regularly for

ward to its conclusion. But a consultation with others has left little more of this plan than the hatter's friends left of his sign. As a vessel was introduced in the first chapter, the cry was for "more ship," until the work had become "all ship;" it actually closing at, or near, the spot where it was originally intended it should commence. Owing to this diversion from the author's design-a design that lay at the bottom of all his projects a necessity has been created of running the tale through two separate works, or of making a hurried and insufficient conclusion. The former scheme has, consequently, been adopted."

vous.

Mr. Cooper's style is as good in Homeward-Bound as in any of his previous novels-better than in some of them. It is easy and vivacious, spirited and nerWe have already commended, in general terms, the conversational parts, but in narrative certainly lies his fort. To the plot of this story we take more exception. The two faults above-mentioned as uncommon ones-incompleteness and meagerness of plotare here exemplified. The work appears to us like the few first chapters of a novel spun out to the size of two volumes. It might almost be supposed that the author, finding his introduction growing too long, had determined, instead of curtailing it, to lengthen it out, by insertions, prefixes and suffixes, to the dimensions necessary for a separate existence. A story founded on scenes of still life would not perhaps require such fulness of plot as one like the present, in which more stirring events are narrated. Mr. Cooper tells us, in

dependent plan. It might have been expected that a plan thus originated would lack completeness and copiousness. Then the conclusion is quite unsatisfactory. The cadence, if we may so call it, in the story, is not greater than might properly finish a chapter midway

in a tale.

In the process of stretching out his scanty materials to the necessary limits, the author has fallen into the error of introducing entirely too much of the technical operations of seamanship into his tale. He must have intended it principally for landsmen, and yet has swelled the narrative by a minute description, sometimes, indeed, expressly suited to the common reader, but oftener incomprehensible excepting by sailors, of every movement of the Montauk. We have an impres sion, though not certain, that Mr. Cooper has before been accused of pretending to too much nautical lore, and have even heard his authority, on, at least, one point of seamanship introduced into the present volume, seriously questioned. Perhaps he has had in view such a charge, and has sought to vindicate his character as an "old salt." But we confess our ignorance of all things ship-shape, or ship-pertaining, beyond some few christian names of masts, sails and yards. There is, however, a something in marine language very expressive, though one knows not exactly what it means. We have, at times, watched the novelist's manoeuvres with his ship, in perfect ignorance of what was going on, yet with intense interest, sure that every movement was fast hastening some important result; or, perhaps, affected sympathetically, as one who smiles when another laughs in his presence, without knowing the cause of his mirth. There is a nervous brevity in sea-phrases, which typifies prompt and energetic action; in short, a something, which, like pantomime, affords great play for the imagination.

Captain Truck is an admirable character, and a character of exactly that sort which Cooper can best por tray. All his novels illustrate this remark. His fort lies not in the description of refined and polished life. Courts and drawing rooms are not his proper field. A rough-hewn son of nature, whether wandering through trackless wilds, a trapper or a scout, or standing on a ship's deck and raising his voice above the tempest, he depicts as none else with whom we are acquainted. Even his well-dressed personages appear to most advantage, when thrown into circumstances calling into action their more rude and hardy talents. Paul Powis is at no time so interesting as when commander of the ship's launch, either for escape or battle. He handles the wheel, or a swivel, or the sailor's lingo, much more effectively than the polite parts of speech. As evidence of the justice of these remarks, it will be noticed that almost every character of the story, not having some rugged peculiarities to support it, falls into comparative inanity. This is particularly observable in regard to the females introduced: or we should rather use the singular, as Eve is the only prominent female character. We are told that she is beautiful, lovely, and accomplished. It is sought to invest her with varied charms of mind, of person and of dress; but the reader is interested in her chiefly—perhaps solely—as beloved by, and loving Paul Powis,

Mr. Dodge is certainly a very amusing, though a very unfair specimen of Yankee newspaper editors and tourists. But his character is overdrawn, at least for

many respects, and not least in polishing and refining his manners. We are also free to confess, that we think Americans, generally, rather deficient in point of good manners. If, as Lord Chesterfield asserts, courts are the only places where the laws of social etiquette can be successfully studied, then may our countrymen never improve in this science. But we think otherwise. The general rules of good-breeding are all founded on knowledge of the world and of human nature; this knowledge may be acquired under any one kind of institutions as well as under another. Then practice must fix these rules in the memory and the

the American reader; Englishmen may look at it with [miums upon every printed defamation of American more allowance. His mental and moral peculiarities, character, coming from this side the water, and to deem however, are of a coarse, rough kind; as strongly oracular every prediction unfavorable to American inmarked and salient as those of Captain Truck, though so stitutions, it could hardly have displayed more illiberal different in nature. The two cousins, Edward and John feelings toward that character and those institutions. Effingham, excite little interest. The former, though | Mr. Dodge is not only a caricature, but a gross libel a man of "singularly correct judgment," is rather on the newspaper editors of our country; not because womanish, and takes little active part even in the quiet there are none of that profession equally despicable, scenes of the story. Mr. Sharp, who has nothing to but because he is held up as a fair representative of the recommend him, but his gentility, though evidently whole class, and the author's declared object is the corintended for a pleasing example of a polished gentle-rect delineation of the state of American society. man, leaves rather a disagreeable impression on the We have no doubt that foreign travel rightly imreader's mind, from the want of force in the delinea-proved, may be of great advantage to the traveller in tion. Mr. Monday is quite a negative sort of character; and, if the sealed papers, which he leaves behind, are to disclose any thing very important to the narrative, we can only say that this part of the plot seems awkwardly introduced. If they contain nothing important, it bears an unmeaning aspect. At any rate, a mystery is thrown over the whole affair, which might better have been cleared up, at least so far, that the connection, if any there be, between Mr. Monday and the other characters, might have begun to appear. But perhaps we go beyond our depth in criticising what may depend on the unpublished sequel for its true bearing. We shall not meddle with Mr. Cooper's political opin-habit; and surely we have enough of good society in ions, and but little with his notions of American society-our principal object being, to examine into the literary merits of his work. We cannot, however, pass in silence one prominent feature of the author's character, which is displayed on almost every page-his want of patriotic feeling. We before knew that he often assumed a querulous tone, when dwelling on the requital which his own services to the nation have met with; but did not imagine that his soul had become so completely warped, by brooding over supposed wrongs. Perhaps Mr. Cooper's residence abroad has thus alienated his heart; or, as is more likely, has led him into a whimsical affectation of what he calls " "cosmopolitism." He would doubtless say, in answer to a charge of his wanting nationality of feeling, that a person may be patriotic, and yet see clearly all the faults of his countrymen; that blindness to these arises from illiberal prejudice. Yes, the true patriot, in heart as well as principle, may see faults, but not faults only or chiefly; and he will naturally love to dwell on his country's honor rather than her reproach. He will not exaggerate her weak points, or expose them wantonly to the ridicule of foreigners, who gloat over every ludicrous representation of American character. In During his sojourn in Europe our author had several fact, no man of truly warm, ardent patriotism can free interviews with Sir Walter Scott; and, in his "Gleanhimself entirley from prejudice in favor of his own land. ings," has given an ample account of one of these All varieties of the emotion of love produce a degree of meetings, which Scott thus mentions in his diary:blindness to the loved object's imperfections. But 'To-day" (we quote from memory) "met Mr. Cooper there is something more than love in true patriotism. the American novelist. He has the manners, or rather There is in it a pride, mingled with affection, which want of manners, common to his countrymen." This identifies the citizen, in his own feelings, with the na- passage has, no doubt, inflicted a sore wound on Mr. tion; which makes him bear, as a personal reproach, Cooper's pride; and it is said, though we can hardly every stain upon his country's honor. "Cosmopolitism" credit the story-it has not, however, to our knowledge, is as inconsistent with patriotism, as omnipresence is been contradicted that he asserts openly that Scott with finite being. Mr. Cooper seems anxious to repel died a drunkard! At any rate, he seems to labor hard the least suspicion of prejudice in favor of the United in the work before us, to disprove Sir Walter's accuStates, and he does it by exhibiting violent prejudices,sation, by demonstrating his intimate acquaintance thinly clad indeed in a mock garb of impartiality, with the science of manners. His countrymen he against his countrymen. If the book had been writ-leaves to vindicate their own honor, and, in fact, adds ten purposely to tickle the depraved appetite of those his voice in their condemnation, but would prove himEnglishmen, who, the last to acknowledge any Ameri- | self a paragon of politeness. How he supports this can book worth reading, are the first to lavish cnco- | character we will not pretend to say, for fear of expo

the United States to afford practice in the forms of politeness. True we have in force among us fewer of the mere conventional laws of good-manners, than they have in the old nations of Europe; but he that observes the general rules before mentioned, which are of universal authority, and those arbitrary laws which the fashion of his own country has introduced, is a well-bred man; and if such an one travels in a foreign land, he seldom fails to discover and obey the peculiar legem loci. The difficulty with us is not that our institutions are inconsistent with good-manners, or even unfriendly to them, though, certainly, monarchial and aristocratic establishments are more favorable to them than ours. But good-breeding, for reasons which we need not here particularize, is not sufficiently prized by the great mass of our countrymen, and, therefore, is not made such an essential part of education among us, as with the more wealthy and luxurious nations of Europe. But to assert that there is no such thing as a well-bred American, unless where the manners have been formed by education, residence, or travel, abroad, as Mr. Cooper virtually asserts, is to caricature the state of society among us very broadly.

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