Volume Two—Chapter Twelve.

Volume Two—Chapter Twelve.I was informed that a camp-meeting was to be held about seven miles from Cincinnati, and, anxious to verify the accounts I had heard of them, I availed myself of this opportunity of deciding for myself. We proceeded about five miles on the high road, and then diverged by a cross-road until we arrived at a steep conical hill, crowned with splendid forest trees without underwood; the trees being sufficiently apart to admit of wagons and other vehicles to pass in every direction. The camp was raised upon the summit of this hill, a piece of table-land comprising many acres. About an acre and a half was surrounded on the four sides by cabins built up of rough boards; the whole area in the centre was fitted up with planks, laid about a foot from the ground, as seats. At one end, but not close to the cabins, was a raised stand, which served as a pulpit for the preachers, one of them praying, while five or six others sat down behind him on benches. There was ingress to the area by the four corners; the whole of it was shaded by vast forest trees, which ran up to the height of fifty or sixty feet without throwing out a branch; and to the trunks of these trees were fixed lamps in every direction, for the continuance of service by night. Outside the area, which may be designated as the church, were hundreds of tents pitched in every quarter, their snowy whiteness contrasting beautifully with the deep verdure and gloom of the forest. These were the temporary habitations of those who had come many miles to attend the meeting, and who remained there from the commencement until it concluded—usually, a period of from ten to twelve days, but often much longer. The tents were furnished with every article necessary for cooking; mattresses to sleep upon, etcetera; some of them even had bedsteads and chests of drawers, which had been brought in the wagons in which the people in this country usually travel. At a farther distance were all the wagons and other vehicles which had conveyed the people to the meeting, whilst hundreds of horses were tethered under the trees, and plentifully provided with forage. Such were the general outlines of a most interesting and beautiful scene.Where, indeed, could so magnificent a temple to the Lord be raised as on this lofty hill, crowned as it was with such majestic verdure. Compared with these giants of the forest, the cabins and tents of the multitude appeared as insignificant and contemptible as almost would man himself in the presence of the Deity. Many generations of men must have been mowed down before the arrival of these enormous trees to their present state of maturity; and at the time they sent forth their first shoots, probably were not on the whole of this continent, now teeming with millions, as many white men as are now assembled on this field. I walked about for some time surveying the panorama, when I returned to the area, and took my seat upon a bench. In one quarter the coloured population had collected themselves; their tents appeared to be better furnished and better supplied with comforts than most of those belonging to the whites. I put my head into one of the tents, and discovered a sable damsel lying on a bed and singing hymns in a loud voice.The major portion of those not in the area were cooking the dinners. Fires were burning in every direction, pots boiling, chickens roasting, hams seething; indeed there appeared to be no want of creature comforts.But the trumpet sounded, as in days of yore, as a signal that the service was about to recommence and I went into the area and took my seat. One of the preachers rose and gave out a hymn, which was sung by the congregation, amounting to about seven or eight hundred. After the singing of the hymn was concluded he commenced an extempore sermon: it was good, sound doctrine, and, although Methodism of the mildest tone, and divested of its bitterness of denunciation, as indeed is generally the case with Methodism in America. I heard nothing which could be offensive to any other sect, or which could be considered objectionable by the most orthodox, and I began to doubt whether such scenes as had been described to me did really take place at these meetings. A prayer followed, and after about two hours the congregation were dismissed to their dinners, being first informed that the service would recommence at two o’clock at the sound of the trumpet. In front of the pulpit there was a space railed off; and strewed with straw, which I was told was theAnxious seat, and on which sat those who were touched by their consciences or the discourse of the preacher; but, although there were several sitting on it, I did not perceive any emotion on the part of the occupants: they were attentive, but nothing more.When I first examined the area, I saw a very large tent at one corner of it, probably fifty feet long, by twenty wide. It was open at the end, and, being full of straw, I concluded it was used as a sleeping-place for those who had not provided themselves with separate accommodation. About an hour after the service was over, perceiving many people directing their steps toward it, I followed them. On one side of the tent were about twenty females, mostly young, squatted down on the straw; on the other a few men; in the centre was a long form, against which were some other men kneeling, with their faces covered with their hands, as if occupied in prayer. Gradually the numbers increased, girl after girl dropped down upon the straw on the one side, and men on the other. At last an elderly man gave out a hymn, which was sung with peculiar energy; then another knelt down in the centre, and commenced a prayer, shutting his eyes (as I observed most clergymen in the United States do when they pray) and raising his hands above his head; then another burst out into a prayer, and another followed him; then their voices became all confused together; and then were heard the more silvery tones of woman’s supplication. As the din increased so did their enthusiasm; handkerchiefs were raised to bright eyes, and sobs were intermingled with prayers and ejaculations. It became a scene of Babel; more than twenty men and women were crying out at the highest pitch of their voices, and trying apparently to be heard above the others. Every minute the excitement increased; some wrung their hands and called for mercy; some tore their hair; boys laid down crying bitterly, with their heads buried in the straw; there was sobbing almost to suffocation, and hysterics and deep agony. One young man clung to the form, crying, “Satan tears at me, but I would hold fast. Help—help, he drags me down!” It was a scene of horrible agony and despair; and, when it was at its height, one of the preachers came in, and raising his voice high above the tumult, intreated the Lord to receive into his fold those who now repented and would fain return. Another of the ministers knelt down by some young men, whose faces were covered up, and who appeared to be almost in a state of frenzy; and putting his hands upon them, poured forth an energetic prayer, well calculated to work upon their over excited feelings. Groans, ejaculations, broken sobs, frantic motions, and convulsions succeeded; some fell on their backs with their eyes closed, waving their hands with a slow motion, and crying out—“Glory, glory, glory!” I quitted the spot, and hastened away into the forest, for the sight was too painful, too melancholy. Its sincerity could not be doubted, but it was the effect of over-excitement, not of sober reasoning. Could such violence of feeling have been produced had each party retired to commune alone? most surely not. It was a fever created by collision and contact, of the same nature as that which stimulates a mob to deeds of blood and horror.Gregarious animals are by nature inoffensive. The cruel and the savage live apart, and in solitude; but the gregarious, upheld and stimulated by each other, become formidable. So it is with man.I was told that the scene would be much more interesting and exciting after the lamps were lighted; but I had seen quite enough of it. It was too serious to laugh at, and I felt that it was not for me to condemn. “Cry aloud, and spare not,” was the exhortation of the preacher and certainly, if heaven was only to be taken by storm, he was a proper leader for his congregation.Whatever may be the opinion of the reader as to the meeting which I have described, it is certain that nothing could be more laudable than the intention by which these meetings were originated. At the first settling of the country the people were widely scattered, and the truths of the Gospel, owing to the scarcity of preachers, but seldom heard. It was to remedy this unavoidable evil that they agreed, like the Christians in earlier times, to collect together from all quarters, and pass many days in meditation and prayer, “exhorting one another—comforting one another.” Even now it is not uncommon for the settlers in Indians and Illinois to travel one hundred miles in their wagons to attend one of these meetings,—meetings which are now too often sullied by fanaticism on the one hand, and on the other by the levity and infidelity of those who go not to pray, but to scoff; or to indulge in the licentiousness which, it is said, but too often follows, when night has thrown her veil over the scene.

I was informed that a camp-meeting was to be held about seven miles from Cincinnati, and, anxious to verify the accounts I had heard of them, I availed myself of this opportunity of deciding for myself. We proceeded about five miles on the high road, and then diverged by a cross-road until we arrived at a steep conical hill, crowned with splendid forest trees without underwood; the trees being sufficiently apart to admit of wagons and other vehicles to pass in every direction. The camp was raised upon the summit of this hill, a piece of table-land comprising many acres. About an acre and a half was surrounded on the four sides by cabins built up of rough boards; the whole area in the centre was fitted up with planks, laid about a foot from the ground, as seats. At one end, but not close to the cabins, was a raised stand, which served as a pulpit for the preachers, one of them praying, while five or six others sat down behind him on benches. There was ingress to the area by the four corners; the whole of it was shaded by vast forest trees, which ran up to the height of fifty or sixty feet without throwing out a branch; and to the trunks of these trees were fixed lamps in every direction, for the continuance of service by night. Outside the area, which may be designated as the church, were hundreds of tents pitched in every quarter, their snowy whiteness contrasting beautifully with the deep verdure and gloom of the forest. These were the temporary habitations of those who had come many miles to attend the meeting, and who remained there from the commencement until it concluded—usually, a period of from ten to twelve days, but often much longer. The tents were furnished with every article necessary for cooking; mattresses to sleep upon, etcetera; some of them even had bedsteads and chests of drawers, which had been brought in the wagons in which the people in this country usually travel. At a farther distance were all the wagons and other vehicles which had conveyed the people to the meeting, whilst hundreds of horses were tethered under the trees, and plentifully provided with forage. Such were the general outlines of a most interesting and beautiful scene.

Where, indeed, could so magnificent a temple to the Lord be raised as on this lofty hill, crowned as it was with such majestic verdure. Compared with these giants of the forest, the cabins and tents of the multitude appeared as insignificant and contemptible as almost would man himself in the presence of the Deity. Many generations of men must have been mowed down before the arrival of these enormous trees to their present state of maturity; and at the time they sent forth their first shoots, probably were not on the whole of this continent, now teeming with millions, as many white men as are now assembled on this field. I walked about for some time surveying the panorama, when I returned to the area, and took my seat upon a bench. In one quarter the coloured population had collected themselves; their tents appeared to be better furnished and better supplied with comforts than most of those belonging to the whites. I put my head into one of the tents, and discovered a sable damsel lying on a bed and singing hymns in a loud voice.

The major portion of those not in the area were cooking the dinners. Fires were burning in every direction, pots boiling, chickens roasting, hams seething; indeed there appeared to be no want of creature comforts.

But the trumpet sounded, as in days of yore, as a signal that the service was about to recommence and I went into the area and took my seat. One of the preachers rose and gave out a hymn, which was sung by the congregation, amounting to about seven or eight hundred. After the singing of the hymn was concluded he commenced an extempore sermon: it was good, sound doctrine, and, although Methodism of the mildest tone, and divested of its bitterness of denunciation, as indeed is generally the case with Methodism in America. I heard nothing which could be offensive to any other sect, or which could be considered objectionable by the most orthodox, and I began to doubt whether such scenes as had been described to me did really take place at these meetings. A prayer followed, and after about two hours the congregation were dismissed to their dinners, being first informed that the service would recommence at two o’clock at the sound of the trumpet. In front of the pulpit there was a space railed off; and strewed with straw, which I was told was theAnxious seat, and on which sat those who were touched by their consciences or the discourse of the preacher; but, although there were several sitting on it, I did not perceive any emotion on the part of the occupants: they were attentive, but nothing more.

When I first examined the area, I saw a very large tent at one corner of it, probably fifty feet long, by twenty wide. It was open at the end, and, being full of straw, I concluded it was used as a sleeping-place for those who had not provided themselves with separate accommodation. About an hour after the service was over, perceiving many people directing their steps toward it, I followed them. On one side of the tent were about twenty females, mostly young, squatted down on the straw; on the other a few men; in the centre was a long form, against which were some other men kneeling, with their faces covered with their hands, as if occupied in prayer. Gradually the numbers increased, girl after girl dropped down upon the straw on the one side, and men on the other. At last an elderly man gave out a hymn, which was sung with peculiar energy; then another knelt down in the centre, and commenced a prayer, shutting his eyes (as I observed most clergymen in the United States do when they pray) and raising his hands above his head; then another burst out into a prayer, and another followed him; then their voices became all confused together; and then were heard the more silvery tones of woman’s supplication. As the din increased so did their enthusiasm; handkerchiefs were raised to bright eyes, and sobs were intermingled with prayers and ejaculations. It became a scene of Babel; more than twenty men and women were crying out at the highest pitch of their voices, and trying apparently to be heard above the others. Every minute the excitement increased; some wrung their hands and called for mercy; some tore their hair; boys laid down crying bitterly, with their heads buried in the straw; there was sobbing almost to suffocation, and hysterics and deep agony. One young man clung to the form, crying, “Satan tears at me, but I would hold fast. Help—help, he drags me down!” It was a scene of horrible agony and despair; and, when it was at its height, one of the preachers came in, and raising his voice high above the tumult, intreated the Lord to receive into his fold those who now repented and would fain return. Another of the ministers knelt down by some young men, whose faces were covered up, and who appeared to be almost in a state of frenzy; and putting his hands upon them, poured forth an energetic prayer, well calculated to work upon their over excited feelings. Groans, ejaculations, broken sobs, frantic motions, and convulsions succeeded; some fell on their backs with their eyes closed, waving their hands with a slow motion, and crying out—“Glory, glory, glory!” I quitted the spot, and hastened away into the forest, for the sight was too painful, too melancholy. Its sincerity could not be doubted, but it was the effect of over-excitement, not of sober reasoning. Could such violence of feeling have been produced had each party retired to commune alone? most surely not. It was a fever created by collision and contact, of the same nature as that which stimulates a mob to deeds of blood and horror.

Gregarious animals are by nature inoffensive. The cruel and the savage live apart, and in solitude; but the gregarious, upheld and stimulated by each other, become formidable. So it is with man.

I was told that the scene would be much more interesting and exciting after the lamps were lighted; but I had seen quite enough of it. It was too serious to laugh at, and I felt that it was not for me to condemn. “Cry aloud, and spare not,” was the exhortation of the preacher and certainly, if heaven was only to be taken by storm, he was a proper leader for his congregation.

Whatever may be the opinion of the reader as to the meeting which I have described, it is certain that nothing could be more laudable than the intention by which these meetings were originated. At the first settling of the country the people were widely scattered, and the truths of the Gospel, owing to the scarcity of preachers, but seldom heard. It was to remedy this unavoidable evil that they agreed, like the Christians in earlier times, to collect together from all quarters, and pass many days in meditation and prayer, “exhorting one another—comforting one another.” Even now it is not uncommon for the settlers in Indians and Illinois to travel one hundred miles in their wagons to attend one of these meetings,—meetings which are now too often sullied by fanaticism on the one hand, and on the other by the levity and infidelity of those who go not to pray, but to scoff; or to indulge in the licentiousness which, it is said, but too often follows, when night has thrown her veil over the scene.

Volume Two—Chapter Thirteen.Lexington, the capital of the State, is embosomed in the very heart of the vale of Kentucky. This vale was the favourite hunting-ground of the Indians; and a fairer country for the chase could not well be imagined than this rolling, well-wooded, luxuriant valley, extending from hill to hill, from dale to dale, for so many long miles. No wonder that the Indians fought so hard to retain, or the Virginians to acquire it; nor was it until much blood had saturated the ground, many reeking scalps had been torn from the head, and many a mother and her children murdered at their hearths, that the contest was relinquished. So severe were the struggles, that the ground obtained the name of the “Bloody Ground.” But the strife is over; the red man has been exterminated, and peace and plenty now reign over this smiling country. It is indeed a beautiful and bounteous land; on the whole, the most eligible in the Union. The valley is seven hundred and fifty feet above the level of the sea, and, therefore, not so subject to fevers as the States of Indiana and Illinois, and indeed that portion of its own state which borders on the Mississippi. But all the rest of the Kentucky land is by no means equal in richness of soil to that of this valley. There are about ninety counties in the State, of which about thirty are of rich land; but four of them, namely, Fayette, Bourbon, Scotts, and Woodford, are the finest. The whole of these four counties are held by large proprietors, who graze and breed stock to a very great extent, supplying the whole of the Western States with the best description of every kind of cattle. Cattle-shows are held every year, and high prizes awarded to the owners of the finest beasts which are there produced. The State of Kentucky, as well as Virginia, is in fact an agricultural and grazing State; the pasture is very rich, and studded with oak and other timber, as in the manner I have described in Ioway and Wisconsin. The staples of Kentucky are hemp and mules; the latter are in such demand for the south that they can hardly produce them fast enough for the market. The minimum price of a three-year old mule is about eighty dollars; the maximum usually one hundred and sixty dollars, or thirty-five pounds, but they often fetch much higher prices. I saw a pair in harness, well matched, and about seventeen hands high, for which they refused one thousand dollars—upwards of two hundred pounds.The cattle-show took place when I was at Lexington. That of horned beasts I was too late for; but the second day I went to the exhibition of thorough-bred horses. The premiums were for the best two-year old, yearlings, and colts, and many of them were very fine animals. The third day was for the exhibition of mules; which, on account of size there being a great desideratum, are bred only from mares; the full-grown averaged from fifteen to sixteen hands high, but they have often been known to be seventeen hands high. I had seen them quite as large in a nobleman’s carriage in the south of Spain; but then they were considered rare, and of great value. After all the other varieties of age had made their appearance, and the judges had given their decision, the mules foaled down this year were to be examined. As they were still sucking, it was necessary that the brood mares should be led into the enclosed paddock, where the animals were inspected, that the foals might be induced to follow; as soon as they were all in the enclosure the mares were sent out, leaving all the foals by themselves. At first they commenced a concert of wailing after their mothers, and then turned their lamentations into indignation and revenge upon each other. Such a ridiculous scene of kicking took place as I never before witnessed, about thirty of them being most sedulously engaged in the occupation, all at the same time. I never saw such ill-behaved mules; it was quite impossible for the judges to decide upon the prize, for you could see nothing but heels in the air; it was rap, rap, rap, incessantly against one another’s sides, until they were all turned out, and the show was over. I rather think the prize must, in this instance, have been awarded to the one that kicked highest.The fourth day was for the exhibition of jackasses, of two-year and one-year, and for foals, and jennies also; this sight was to me one of peculiar interest. Accustomed as we are in England to value a jackass at thirty shillings, we look down upon them with contempt; but here the case is reversed: you look up at them with surprise and admiration. Several were shown standing fifteen hands high, with head and ears in proportion; the breed has been obtained from the Maltese jackass, crossed by those of Spain and the south of France. Those imported seldom average more than fourteen hands high; but the Kentuckians, by great attention and care, have raised them up to fifteen hands, and sometimes even to sixteen.But the price paid for these splendid animals, for such they really were, will prove how much they are in request. Warrior, a jackass of great celebrity, sold for 5,000 dollars, upwards of 1,000 pounds sterling. Half of another jackass, Benjamin by name, was sold for 2,500 dollars. At the show I asked a gentleman what he wanted for a very beautiful female ass, only one year old; he said that he could have 1,000 dollars, 250 pounds for her, but that he had refused that sum. For a two-year old jack, shown during the exhibition, they asked 3000 dollars, more than 600 pounds. I never felt such respect for donkeys before; but the fact is, that mule-breeding is so lucrative, that there is no price which a very large donkey will not command.I afterwards went to a cattle sale a few miles out of the town. Don Juan, a two-year old bull, Durham breed, fetched 1,075 dollars; an imported Durham cow, with her calf, 985 dollars. Before I arrived, a bull and cow fetched 1,300 dollars each of them, about 280 pounds. The cause of this is, that the demand for good stock, now that the Western States are filling up, becomes so great that they cannot be produced fast enough. Mr Clay, who resides near Lexington, is one of the best breeders in the State, which is much indebted to him for the fine stock which he has imported from England.Another sale took place, which I attended, and I quote the prices:— Yearling bull, 1,000 dollars; ditto heifer, 1,500. Cows, of full Durham blood, but bred in Kentucky, 1,245 dollars; ditto, 1,235 dollars. Imported cow and calf, 2,100 dollars.It must be considered, that although a good Durham cow will not cost more than twenty guineas perhaps, in England, the expenses of transport are very great, and they generally stand it to the importers, about 600 dollars, before they arrive at the State of Kentucky.But to prove that the Kentuckians are fully justified in giving the prices they do, I will shew what was the profit made upon an old cow before she was sold for 400 dollars. I had a statement from her proprietor, who had her in his possession for nine years. She was a full-bred cow, and during the time that he had held her in his possession, she had cleared him 15,000 dollars by the sale of her progeny: As follows:—Years.CalvesSecondThirdFourthGenerationGenerationGeneration1121311411511161117111181111911119753Total, 24averaging 625 dollars a head, which is by no means a large price, as the two cows, which sold at the sale for 1,245, and 1,235 dollars, were a part of her issue.Lexington is a very pretty town, with very pleasant society, and afforded me great relief after the unpleasant sojourn I had had at Louisville. Conversing one day with Mr Clay, I had another instance given me of the mischief which the conduct of Miss Martineau has entailed upon all those English who may happen to visit America. Mr Clay observed that Miss Martineau had remained with him for some time, and that during her stay, she had professed very different, or at least more modified opinions on the subject of slavery, than those she has expressed in her book: so much so, that one day, having read a letter from Boston cautioning her against being cajoled by the hospitality and pleasant society of the Western States, she handed it to him, saying, “They want to make a regular abolitionist of me.” “When her work came out,” continued Mr Clay, “although I read but very little of it, I turned to this subject so important with us, and I must say I was a little surprised to find that she had so changed her opinions.” The fact is, Miss Martineau appears to have been what the Kentuckians call, “playing ’possum.” I have met with some of the Southern ladies whose conversations on slavery are said, or supposed, to have been those printed by Miss Martineau, and they deny that they are correct. That the Southern ladies are very apt to express great horror at living too long a time at the plantations, is very certain; not, however, because they expect to be murdered in their beds by the slaves, as they tell their husbands, but because they are anxious to spend more of their time at the cities, where they can enjoy more luxury and amusement than can be procured at the plantations.Every body rides in Virginia and Kentucky, master, man, woman, and slave, and they all ride well: it is quite as common to meet a woman on horseback as a man, and it is a pretty sight in their States to walk by the Church doors and see them all arrive. The Churches have stables, or rather sheds, built close to them, for the accommodation of the cattle.Elopements in these States are all made on horseback. The goal to be obtained is to cross to the other side of the Ohio. The consequence is that it is a regular steeple-chase; the young couple clearing everything, father and brothers following. Whether it is that, having the choice, the young people are the best mounted, I know not, but the runaways are seldom overtaken. One couple crossed the Ohio when I was at Cincinnati, and had just time to tie the noose before their pursuers arrived.At Lexington, on Sunday, there is not a carriage or horse to be obtained by a white man for any consideration, they having all been regularly engaged for that day by the negro slaves, who go out in every direction. Where they get the money I do not know; but certain it is, that it is always produced when required. I was waiting at the counter of a sort of pastry-cook’s, when three negro lads, about twelve or fourteen years old, came in, and, in a most authoritative tone, ordered three glasses of soda-water.Returned to Louisville.

Lexington, the capital of the State, is embosomed in the very heart of the vale of Kentucky. This vale was the favourite hunting-ground of the Indians; and a fairer country for the chase could not well be imagined than this rolling, well-wooded, luxuriant valley, extending from hill to hill, from dale to dale, for so many long miles. No wonder that the Indians fought so hard to retain, or the Virginians to acquire it; nor was it until much blood had saturated the ground, many reeking scalps had been torn from the head, and many a mother and her children murdered at their hearths, that the contest was relinquished. So severe were the struggles, that the ground obtained the name of the “Bloody Ground.” But the strife is over; the red man has been exterminated, and peace and plenty now reign over this smiling country. It is indeed a beautiful and bounteous land; on the whole, the most eligible in the Union. The valley is seven hundred and fifty feet above the level of the sea, and, therefore, not so subject to fevers as the States of Indiana and Illinois, and indeed that portion of its own state which borders on the Mississippi. But all the rest of the Kentucky land is by no means equal in richness of soil to that of this valley. There are about ninety counties in the State, of which about thirty are of rich land; but four of them, namely, Fayette, Bourbon, Scotts, and Woodford, are the finest. The whole of these four counties are held by large proprietors, who graze and breed stock to a very great extent, supplying the whole of the Western States with the best description of every kind of cattle. Cattle-shows are held every year, and high prizes awarded to the owners of the finest beasts which are there produced. The State of Kentucky, as well as Virginia, is in fact an agricultural and grazing State; the pasture is very rich, and studded with oak and other timber, as in the manner I have described in Ioway and Wisconsin. The staples of Kentucky are hemp and mules; the latter are in such demand for the south that they can hardly produce them fast enough for the market. The minimum price of a three-year old mule is about eighty dollars; the maximum usually one hundred and sixty dollars, or thirty-five pounds, but they often fetch much higher prices. I saw a pair in harness, well matched, and about seventeen hands high, for which they refused one thousand dollars—upwards of two hundred pounds.

The cattle-show took place when I was at Lexington. That of horned beasts I was too late for; but the second day I went to the exhibition of thorough-bred horses. The premiums were for the best two-year old, yearlings, and colts, and many of them were very fine animals. The third day was for the exhibition of mules; which, on account of size there being a great desideratum, are bred only from mares; the full-grown averaged from fifteen to sixteen hands high, but they have often been known to be seventeen hands high. I had seen them quite as large in a nobleman’s carriage in the south of Spain; but then they were considered rare, and of great value. After all the other varieties of age had made their appearance, and the judges had given their decision, the mules foaled down this year were to be examined. As they were still sucking, it was necessary that the brood mares should be led into the enclosed paddock, where the animals were inspected, that the foals might be induced to follow; as soon as they were all in the enclosure the mares were sent out, leaving all the foals by themselves. At first they commenced a concert of wailing after their mothers, and then turned their lamentations into indignation and revenge upon each other. Such a ridiculous scene of kicking took place as I never before witnessed, about thirty of them being most sedulously engaged in the occupation, all at the same time. I never saw such ill-behaved mules; it was quite impossible for the judges to decide upon the prize, for you could see nothing but heels in the air; it was rap, rap, rap, incessantly against one another’s sides, until they were all turned out, and the show was over. I rather think the prize must, in this instance, have been awarded to the one that kicked highest.

The fourth day was for the exhibition of jackasses, of two-year and one-year, and for foals, and jennies also; this sight was to me one of peculiar interest. Accustomed as we are in England to value a jackass at thirty shillings, we look down upon them with contempt; but here the case is reversed: you look up at them with surprise and admiration. Several were shown standing fifteen hands high, with head and ears in proportion; the breed has been obtained from the Maltese jackass, crossed by those of Spain and the south of France. Those imported seldom average more than fourteen hands high; but the Kentuckians, by great attention and care, have raised them up to fifteen hands, and sometimes even to sixteen.

But the price paid for these splendid animals, for such they really were, will prove how much they are in request. Warrior, a jackass of great celebrity, sold for 5,000 dollars, upwards of 1,000 pounds sterling. Half of another jackass, Benjamin by name, was sold for 2,500 dollars. At the show I asked a gentleman what he wanted for a very beautiful female ass, only one year old; he said that he could have 1,000 dollars, 250 pounds for her, but that he had refused that sum. For a two-year old jack, shown during the exhibition, they asked 3000 dollars, more than 600 pounds. I never felt such respect for donkeys before; but the fact is, that mule-breeding is so lucrative, that there is no price which a very large donkey will not command.

I afterwards went to a cattle sale a few miles out of the town. Don Juan, a two-year old bull, Durham breed, fetched 1,075 dollars; an imported Durham cow, with her calf, 985 dollars. Before I arrived, a bull and cow fetched 1,300 dollars each of them, about 280 pounds. The cause of this is, that the demand for good stock, now that the Western States are filling up, becomes so great that they cannot be produced fast enough. Mr Clay, who resides near Lexington, is one of the best breeders in the State, which is much indebted to him for the fine stock which he has imported from England.

Another sale took place, which I attended, and I quote the prices:— Yearling bull, 1,000 dollars; ditto heifer, 1,500. Cows, of full Durham blood, but bred in Kentucky, 1,245 dollars; ditto, 1,235 dollars. Imported cow and calf, 2,100 dollars.

It must be considered, that although a good Durham cow will not cost more than twenty guineas perhaps, in England, the expenses of transport are very great, and they generally stand it to the importers, about 600 dollars, before they arrive at the State of Kentucky.

But to prove that the Kentuckians are fully justified in giving the prices they do, I will shew what was the profit made upon an old cow before she was sold for 400 dollars. I had a statement from her proprietor, who had her in his possession for nine years. She was a full-bred cow, and during the time that he had held her in his possession, she had cleared him 15,000 dollars by the sale of her progeny: As follows:—

averaging 625 dollars a head, which is by no means a large price, as the two cows, which sold at the sale for 1,245, and 1,235 dollars, were a part of her issue.

Lexington is a very pretty town, with very pleasant society, and afforded me great relief after the unpleasant sojourn I had had at Louisville. Conversing one day with Mr Clay, I had another instance given me of the mischief which the conduct of Miss Martineau has entailed upon all those English who may happen to visit America. Mr Clay observed that Miss Martineau had remained with him for some time, and that during her stay, she had professed very different, or at least more modified opinions on the subject of slavery, than those she has expressed in her book: so much so, that one day, having read a letter from Boston cautioning her against being cajoled by the hospitality and pleasant society of the Western States, she handed it to him, saying, “They want to make a regular abolitionist of me.” “When her work came out,” continued Mr Clay, “although I read but very little of it, I turned to this subject so important with us, and I must say I was a little surprised to find that she had so changed her opinions.” The fact is, Miss Martineau appears to have been what the Kentuckians call, “playing ’possum.” I have met with some of the Southern ladies whose conversations on slavery are said, or supposed, to have been those printed by Miss Martineau, and they deny that they are correct. That the Southern ladies are very apt to express great horror at living too long a time at the plantations, is very certain; not, however, because they expect to be murdered in their beds by the slaves, as they tell their husbands, but because they are anxious to spend more of their time at the cities, where they can enjoy more luxury and amusement than can be procured at the plantations.

Every body rides in Virginia and Kentucky, master, man, woman, and slave, and they all ride well: it is quite as common to meet a woman on horseback as a man, and it is a pretty sight in their States to walk by the Church doors and see them all arrive. The Churches have stables, or rather sheds, built close to them, for the accommodation of the cattle.

Elopements in these States are all made on horseback. The goal to be obtained is to cross to the other side of the Ohio. The consequence is that it is a regular steeple-chase; the young couple clearing everything, father and brothers following. Whether it is that, having the choice, the young people are the best mounted, I know not, but the runaways are seldom overtaken. One couple crossed the Ohio when I was at Cincinnati, and had just time to tie the noose before their pursuers arrived.

At Lexington, on Sunday, there is not a carriage or horse to be obtained by a white man for any consideration, they having all been regularly engaged for that day by the negro slaves, who go out in every direction. Where they get the money I do not know; but certain it is, that it is always produced when required. I was waiting at the counter of a sort of pastry-cook’s, when three negro lads, about twelve or fourteen years old, came in, and, in a most authoritative tone, ordered three glasses of soda-water.

Returned to Louisville.

Volume Two—Chapter Fourteen.There is one great inconvenience in American travelling, arising from the uncertainty of river navigation. Excepting the Lower Mississippi and the Hudson, and not always the latter, the communication by water is obstructed during a considerable portion of the year, by ice in the winter, or a deficiency of water in the dry season. This has been a remarkable season for heat and drought; and thousands of people remain in the States of Ohio, Virginia, and Kentucky, who are most anxious to return home. It must be understood, that during the unhealthy season in the southern States on the Mississippi, the planters, cotton-growers, slave holders, store-keepers, and indeed almost every class, excepting the slaves and overseers, migrate to the northward, to escape the yellow fever, and spend a portion of their gains in amusement.They go to Cincinnati and the towns of Ohio, to the Lakes occasionally, but principally to the cities and watering places of Virginia and Kentucky, more especially Louisville, where I now am; and Louisville, being also the sort of general rendezvous for departure south, is now crammed with southern people. The steam boats cannot run, for the river is almost dry; and I (as well as others) have been detained much longer on the banks of the Ohio than was my intention. There is land-carriage certainly, but the heat of the weather is so overpowering that even the Southerns dread it; and in consequence of this extreme heat the sickness in these western States has been much greater than usual. Even Kentucky, especially that part which borders on the Mississippi, which, generally speaking, is healthy, is now suffering under malignant fevers. I may here remark, that the two States, Illinois and Indiana, and the western portions of Kentucky and Tennessee, are very unhealthy; not a year passes without a great mortality from the bilious congestive fever, a variety of the yellow fever, and the ague; more especially Illinois and Indiana, with the western portion of Ohio, which is equally flat with the other two States. The two States of Indiana and Illinois lie, as it were, at the bottom of the western basin; the soil is wonderfully rich, but the drainage is insufficient, as may be seen from the sluggishness with which these rivers flow. Many and many thousands of poor Irish emigrants, and settlers also, have been struck down by disease, never to rise again, in these rich but unhealthy States; to which, stimulated by the works published by land-speculators, thousands and thousands every year repair, and, notwithstanding the annual expenditure of life, rapidly increase the population. I had made up my mind to travel by land-carriage to St. Louis, Missouri, through the States of Indiana and Illinois, but two American gentlemen, who had just arrived by that route, succeeded in dissuading me. They had come over on horseback. They described the disease and mortality as dreadful. That sometimes, when they wished to put up their horses at seven or eight o’clock in the evening, they were compelled to travel on till twelve or one o’clock before they could gain admittance, some portion in every house suffering under the bilious fever, tertian ague, or flux. They described the scene as quite appalling. At some houses there was not one person able to rise and attend upon the others; all were dying or dead and to increase the misery of their situations, the springs had dried up, and in many places they could not procure water except by sending many miles. A friend of mine, who had been on a mission through the portion of Kentucky and Tennessee bordering on them Mississippi, made a very similar statement. He was not refused to remain where he stopped, but he could procure no assistance, and everywhere ran the risk of contagion. He said that some of the people were obliged to send their negroes with a waggon upwards of fifteen miles to wash their clothes.That this has been a very unhealthy season is certain, but still, from all the information I could obtain, there is a great mortality every year in the districts I have pointed out; and such indeed must be the case, from the miasma created every fall of the year in these rich alluvial soils, some portions of which have been worked for fifty years without the assistance of manure, and still yield abundant crops. It will be a long while before the drainage necessary to render them healthy can be accomplished. The sickly appearance of the inhabitants establishes but too well the facts related to me; and yet, strange to say, it would appear to be a provision of Providence, that a remarkable fecundity on the part of the women in the more healthy portions of their Western States, should meet the annual expenditure of life. Three children at a birth are more common here than twins are in England; and they, generally speaking, are all reared up. There have been many instances of even four.The western valley of America, of which the Mississippi may be considered as the common drain, must, from the surprising depth of the alluvial soil, have been (ages back) wholly under water, and, perhaps, by some convulsion raised up. What insects are we in our own estimation when we meditate upon such stupendous changes.Since I have been in these States, I have been surprised at the stream of emigration which appears to flow from North Carolina to Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri. Every hour you meet with a caravan of emigrants from that sterile but healthy state. Every night the banks of the Ohio are lighted up with their fires, where they have bivouacked previously to crossing the river; but they are not like the poor German or Irish settlers: they are well prepared, and have nothing to do, apparently, but to sit down upon their land. These caravans consist of two or three covered wagons, full of women and children, furniture, and other necessaries, each drawn by a team of horses; brood mares, with foals by their sides, following; half a dozen or more cows, flanked on each side by the men, with their long rifles on their shoulders; sometimes a boy or two, or a half-grown girl on horseback. Occasionally they wear an appearance of more refinement and cultivation, as well as wealth, the principals travelling in a sort of worn-out old carriage, the remains of the competence of former days.I often surmised, as they travelled cheerfully along, saluting me as they passed by, whether they would not repent their decision, and sigh for their pine barrens and heath, after they had discovered that with fertility they had to encounter such disease and mortality.I have often heard it asserted by Englishmen, that America has no coal. There never was a greater mistake: she has an abundance, and of the very finest that ever was seen. At Wheeling and Pittsburg, and on all the borders of the Ohio river above Guyandotte, they have an inexhaustible supply, equal to the very best offered to the London market. All the spurs of the Alleghany range appear to be one mass of coal. In the Eastern States the coal is of a different quality, although there is some very tolerable. The anthracite is bad, throwing out a strong sulphureous gas. The fact is that wood is at present cheaper than coal, and therefore the latter is not in demand. An American told me one day, that a company had been working a coal mine in an Eastern State, which proved to be of a very bad quality; they had sent some to an influential person as a present, requesting him to give his opinion of it, as that would be important to them. After a certain time he forwarded to them a certificate couched in such terms as these:— “I do hereby certify that I have tried the coal sent me by the company at —, and it is my decided opinion, that when the general conflagration of the world shall take place, any man who will take his position on thatcoal-minewill certainly be thelast manwho will beburnt.”I had to travel by coach for six days and nights, to arrive at Baltimore. As it may be supposed, I was not a little tired before my journey was half over; I therefore was glad when the coach stopped for a few hours, to throw off my coat, and lie down on a bed. At one town, where I had stopped, I had been reposing more than two hours when my door was opened—but this was too common a circumstance for me to think any thing of it; the people would come into my room whether I was in bed or out of bed, dressed or not dressed, and if I expostulated, they would reply, “Never mind,wedon’t care, Captain.” On this occasion I called out, “Well, what do you want?”“Are you Captain M—?” said the person walking up to the bed where I was lying.“Yes, I am,” replied I.“Well, I reckon I wouldn’t allow you to go through our town without seeing you any how. Of all the humans, you’re the one I most wish to see.”I told him I was highly flattered.“Well now,” said he, giving a jump, and coming down right upon the bed in his great coat, “I’ll just tell you; I said to the chap at the bar, ‘Ain’t the Captain in your house?’ ‘Yes,’ says he. ‘Then where is he?’ says I. ‘Oh,’ says he, ‘he’s gone into his own room, and locked himself up; he’s a d—d aristocrat, and won’t drink at the bar with other gentlemen.’ So, thought I, I’ve read M—’s works, and I’ll be swamped if he is an aristocrat, and by the ’tarnal I’ll go up and see; so here I am, and you’re no aristocrat.”“I should think not,” replied I, moving my feet away, which he was half sitting on.“Oh, don’t move; never mind me, Captain, I’m quite comfortable. And how do you find yourself by this time?”“Very tired indeed,” replied I.“I suspicion as much. Now, d’ye see, I left four or five good fellows down below who wish to see you; I said I’d go up first, and come down to them. The fact is, Captain, we don’t like you should pass through our town without showing you a little American hospitality.”So saying, he slid off the bed, and went out of the room. In a minute he returned, bringing with him four or five others, all of whom he introduced by name, and reseated himself on my bed, while the others took chairs.“Now, gentlemen,” said he, “as I was telling the Captain, we wish to show him a little American hospitality; what shall it be, gentlemen; what d’ye say—a bottle of Madeira?”An immediate answer not being returned, he continued:“Yes, gentlemen, a bottle of Madeira; at my expense, gentlemen, recollect that; now ring the bell.”“I shall be most happy to take a glass of wine with you,” observed I, “but in my own room the wine must be atmyexpense.”“Atyourexpense, Captain; well, if it must be, I don’t care; atyourexpense then, Captain, if you say so; only, you see, we must show you a little American hospitality, as I said to them all down below; didn’t I, gentlemen?”The wine was ordered, and it ended in my hospitable friends drinking three bottles, and then they all shook hands with me, declaring how happy they should be if I came to the town again, allowed them to show me a little more American hospitality.There was something so very ridiculous in this event, that I cannot help narrating it; but let it not be supposed, for a moment, that I intend it as a sarcasm upon American hospitality in general. There certainly are conditions usually attached to their hospitality, if you wish to profit by it to any extent; and one is, that you do not venture to find fault with themselves, their manners, or their institutions.Note—That a guest, partaking of their hospitality, should give his opinions unasked, and find fault, would be in very bad taste, to say the least of it. But the fault in America is, that you are compelled to give an opinion, and you cannot escape by a doubtful reply: as the American said to me in Philadelphia, “I wish acategoricalanswer.” Thus, should you not agree with them, you are placed upon the horns of a dilemma: either you must affront the company, or sacrifice truth.End of Diary.

There is one great inconvenience in American travelling, arising from the uncertainty of river navigation. Excepting the Lower Mississippi and the Hudson, and not always the latter, the communication by water is obstructed during a considerable portion of the year, by ice in the winter, or a deficiency of water in the dry season. This has been a remarkable season for heat and drought; and thousands of people remain in the States of Ohio, Virginia, and Kentucky, who are most anxious to return home. It must be understood, that during the unhealthy season in the southern States on the Mississippi, the planters, cotton-growers, slave holders, store-keepers, and indeed almost every class, excepting the slaves and overseers, migrate to the northward, to escape the yellow fever, and spend a portion of their gains in amusement.

They go to Cincinnati and the towns of Ohio, to the Lakes occasionally, but principally to the cities and watering places of Virginia and Kentucky, more especially Louisville, where I now am; and Louisville, being also the sort of general rendezvous for departure south, is now crammed with southern people. The steam boats cannot run, for the river is almost dry; and I (as well as others) have been detained much longer on the banks of the Ohio than was my intention. There is land-carriage certainly, but the heat of the weather is so overpowering that even the Southerns dread it; and in consequence of this extreme heat the sickness in these western States has been much greater than usual. Even Kentucky, especially that part which borders on the Mississippi, which, generally speaking, is healthy, is now suffering under malignant fevers. I may here remark, that the two States, Illinois and Indiana, and the western portions of Kentucky and Tennessee, are very unhealthy; not a year passes without a great mortality from the bilious congestive fever, a variety of the yellow fever, and the ague; more especially Illinois and Indiana, with the western portion of Ohio, which is equally flat with the other two States. The two States of Indiana and Illinois lie, as it were, at the bottom of the western basin; the soil is wonderfully rich, but the drainage is insufficient, as may be seen from the sluggishness with which these rivers flow. Many and many thousands of poor Irish emigrants, and settlers also, have been struck down by disease, never to rise again, in these rich but unhealthy States; to which, stimulated by the works published by land-speculators, thousands and thousands every year repair, and, notwithstanding the annual expenditure of life, rapidly increase the population. I had made up my mind to travel by land-carriage to St. Louis, Missouri, through the States of Indiana and Illinois, but two American gentlemen, who had just arrived by that route, succeeded in dissuading me. They had come over on horseback. They described the disease and mortality as dreadful. That sometimes, when they wished to put up their horses at seven or eight o’clock in the evening, they were compelled to travel on till twelve or one o’clock before they could gain admittance, some portion in every house suffering under the bilious fever, tertian ague, or flux. They described the scene as quite appalling. At some houses there was not one person able to rise and attend upon the others; all were dying or dead and to increase the misery of their situations, the springs had dried up, and in many places they could not procure water except by sending many miles. A friend of mine, who had been on a mission through the portion of Kentucky and Tennessee bordering on them Mississippi, made a very similar statement. He was not refused to remain where he stopped, but he could procure no assistance, and everywhere ran the risk of contagion. He said that some of the people were obliged to send their negroes with a waggon upwards of fifteen miles to wash their clothes.

That this has been a very unhealthy season is certain, but still, from all the information I could obtain, there is a great mortality every year in the districts I have pointed out; and such indeed must be the case, from the miasma created every fall of the year in these rich alluvial soils, some portions of which have been worked for fifty years without the assistance of manure, and still yield abundant crops. It will be a long while before the drainage necessary to render them healthy can be accomplished. The sickly appearance of the inhabitants establishes but too well the facts related to me; and yet, strange to say, it would appear to be a provision of Providence, that a remarkable fecundity on the part of the women in the more healthy portions of their Western States, should meet the annual expenditure of life. Three children at a birth are more common here than twins are in England; and they, generally speaking, are all reared up. There have been many instances of even four.

The western valley of America, of which the Mississippi may be considered as the common drain, must, from the surprising depth of the alluvial soil, have been (ages back) wholly under water, and, perhaps, by some convulsion raised up. What insects are we in our own estimation when we meditate upon such stupendous changes.

Since I have been in these States, I have been surprised at the stream of emigration which appears to flow from North Carolina to Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri. Every hour you meet with a caravan of emigrants from that sterile but healthy state. Every night the banks of the Ohio are lighted up with their fires, where they have bivouacked previously to crossing the river; but they are not like the poor German or Irish settlers: they are well prepared, and have nothing to do, apparently, but to sit down upon their land. These caravans consist of two or three covered wagons, full of women and children, furniture, and other necessaries, each drawn by a team of horses; brood mares, with foals by their sides, following; half a dozen or more cows, flanked on each side by the men, with their long rifles on their shoulders; sometimes a boy or two, or a half-grown girl on horseback. Occasionally they wear an appearance of more refinement and cultivation, as well as wealth, the principals travelling in a sort of worn-out old carriage, the remains of the competence of former days.

I often surmised, as they travelled cheerfully along, saluting me as they passed by, whether they would not repent their decision, and sigh for their pine barrens and heath, after they had discovered that with fertility they had to encounter such disease and mortality.

I have often heard it asserted by Englishmen, that America has no coal. There never was a greater mistake: she has an abundance, and of the very finest that ever was seen. At Wheeling and Pittsburg, and on all the borders of the Ohio river above Guyandotte, they have an inexhaustible supply, equal to the very best offered to the London market. All the spurs of the Alleghany range appear to be one mass of coal. In the Eastern States the coal is of a different quality, although there is some very tolerable. The anthracite is bad, throwing out a strong sulphureous gas. The fact is that wood is at present cheaper than coal, and therefore the latter is not in demand. An American told me one day, that a company had been working a coal mine in an Eastern State, which proved to be of a very bad quality; they had sent some to an influential person as a present, requesting him to give his opinion of it, as that would be important to them. After a certain time he forwarded to them a certificate couched in such terms as these:— “I do hereby certify that I have tried the coal sent me by the company at —, and it is my decided opinion, that when the general conflagration of the world shall take place, any man who will take his position on thatcoal-minewill certainly be thelast manwho will beburnt.”

I had to travel by coach for six days and nights, to arrive at Baltimore. As it may be supposed, I was not a little tired before my journey was half over; I therefore was glad when the coach stopped for a few hours, to throw off my coat, and lie down on a bed. At one town, where I had stopped, I had been reposing more than two hours when my door was opened—but this was too common a circumstance for me to think any thing of it; the people would come into my room whether I was in bed or out of bed, dressed or not dressed, and if I expostulated, they would reply, “Never mind,wedon’t care, Captain.” On this occasion I called out, “Well, what do you want?”

“Are you Captain M—?” said the person walking up to the bed where I was lying.

“Yes, I am,” replied I.

“Well, I reckon I wouldn’t allow you to go through our town without seeing you any how. Of all the humans, you’re the one I most wish to see.”

I told him I was highly flattered.

“Well now,” said he, giving a jump, and coming down right upon the bed in his great coat, “I’ll just tell you; I said to the chap at the bar, ‘Ain’t the Captain in your house?’ ‘Yes,’ says he. ‘Then where is he?’ says I. ‘Oh,’ says he, ‘he’s gone into his own room, and locked himself up; he’s a d—d aristocrat, and won’t drink at the bar with other gentlemen.’ So, thought I, I’ve read M—’s works, and I’ll be swamped if he is an aristocrat, and by the ’tarnal I’ll go up and see; so here I am, and you’re no aristocrat.”

“I should think not,” replied I, moving my feet away, which he was half sitting on.

“Oh, don’t move; never mind me, Captain, I’m quite comfortable. And how do you find yourself by this time?”

“Very tired indeed,” replied I.

“I suspicion as much. Now, d’ye see, I left four or five good fellows down below who wish to see you; I said I’d go up first, and come down to them. The fact is, Captain, we don’t like you should pass through our town without showing you a little American hospitality.”

So saying, he slid off the bed, and went out of the room. In a minute he returned, bringing with him four or five others, all of whom he introduced by name, and reseated himself on my bed, while the others took chairs.

“Now, gentlemen,” said he, “as I was telling the Captain, we wish to show him a little American hospitality; what shall it be, gentlemen; what d’ye say—a bottle of Madeira?”

An immediate answer not being returned, he continued:

“Yes, gentlemen, a bottle of Madeira; at my expense, gentlemen, recollect that; now ring the bell.”

“I shall be most happy to take a glass of wine with you,” observed I, “but in my own room the wine must be atmyexpense.”

“Atyourexpense, Captain; well, if it must be, I don’t care; atyourexpense then, Captain, if you say so; only, you see, we must show you a little American hospitality, as I said to them all down below; didn’t I, gentlemen?”

The wine was ordered, and it ended in my hospitable friends drinking three bottles, and then they all shook hands with me, declaring how happy they should be if I came to the town again, allowed them to show me a little more American hospitality.

There was something so very ridiculous in this event, that I cannot help narrating it; but let it not be supposed, for a moment, that I intend it as a sarcasm upon American hospitality in general. There certainly are conditions usually attached to their hospitality, if you wish to profit by it to any extent; and one is, that you do not venture to find fault with themselves, their manners, or their institutions.

Note—That a guest, partaking of their hospitality, should give his opinions unasked, and find fault, would be in very bad taste, to say the least of it. But the fault in America is, that you are compelled to give an opinion, and you cannot escape by a doubtful reply: as the American said to me in Philadelphia, “I wish acategoricalanswer.” Thus, should you not agree with them, you are placed upon the horns of a dilemma: either you must affront the company, or sacrifice truth.

Volume Three—Chapter One.Remarks—Language.The Americans boldly assert that they speak better English than we do, and I was rather surprised not to find a statistical table to that effect in Mr Carey’s publication. What I believe the Americans would imply by the above assertion is that you may travel through all the United States and find less difficulty in understanding or being understood, than in some of the counties of England, such as Cornwall, Devonshire, Lancashire and Suffolk. So far they are correct; but it is remarkable how very debased the language has become in a short period in America. There are few provincial dialects in England much less intelligible than the following. A Yankee girl, who wished to hire herself out, was asked if the had any followers or sweethearts? After a little hesitation, she replied, “Well, now, can’t exactly say; I bees a sorter courted and a sorter not; reckon more a sorter yes than a sorter no.” In many points the Americans have to a certain degree obtained that equality which they profess; and, as respects their language, it certainly is the case. If their lower classes are more intelligible than ours, it is equally true that the higher classes do not speak the language so purely or so classically as it is spoken among the well educated English. The peculiar dialect of the English counties is kept up because we are a settled country; the people who are born in a county live in it, and die in it, transmitting their sites of labour or of amusement to their descendants, generation after generation, without change: consequently, the provincialisms of the language become equally hereditary. Now, in America, they have a dictionary containing many thousands of words, which, with us, are either obsolete or are provincialisms, or are words necessarily invented by the Americans. When the people of England emigrated to the states, they came from every county in England, and each county brought its provincialisms with it. These were admitted into the general stock; and were since all collected and bound up by one Mr Webster. With the exception of a few words coined for local uses (such assnagsandsawyers, on the Mississippi,) I do not recollect a word which I have not traced to be either a provincialism of some English county, or else to be obsolete English. There are a few from the Dutch, such asstoup, for the porch of a door, etcetera. I was once talking with an American about Webster’s dictionary, and he observed, “Well now, sir, I understand it’s the only one used in the Court of St. James, by the king, queen, and princesses, and that by royal order.”The upper class of the Americans do not, however, speak or pronounce English according to our standard; they appear to have no exact rule to guide them, probably from the want of any intimate knowledge of Greek or Latin. You seldom hear a derivation from the Greek pronounced correctly, the accent being generally laid upon the wrong syllable. In fact, every one appears to be independent, and pronounces just as he pleases.But it is not for me to decide the very momentous question, as to which nation speaks the best English. The Americans generally improve upon the inventions of others; probably they may have improved upon our language.I recollect some one observing how very superior the German language was to the English, from their possessing so many compound substantives and adjectives; whereupon his friend replied, that it was just as easy for us to possess them in England if we pleased, and gave us as an example an observation made by his old dame at Eaton, who declared that young Paulet was, without any exception, the mostgood-for-nothing-est, the mostprovoking-people-est, and the mostpoke-about-every-corner-estboy she had ever had charge of in her life.Assuming this principle of improvement to be correct, it must be acknowledged that the Americans have added considerably to our dictionary; but, as I have before observed, this being a point of too much delicacy for me to decide upon, I shall just submit to the reader the occasional variations, or improvements, as they may be, which met my ears during my residence in America, as also the idiomatic peculiarities, and having so done, I must leave him to decide for himself.I recollect once talking with one of the first men in America, who was narrating to me the advantages which might have accrued to him if he had followed up a certain speculation, when he said, “Sir, if I had done so, I should not only havedoubledandtrebled, but I should havefourbledandfivebledmy money.”One of the members of congress once said, “What the honourable gentleman has just asserted I consider ascatamountto a denial;”—(catamount is the term given to a panther or lynx.)“I presume,” replied his opponent, “that the honourable gentleman meanstantamount.”“No, sir, I do not meantantamount; I am not so ignorant of our language, not to be aware that catamount and tantamount are anonymous.”The Americans dwell upon their words when they speak—a custom arising, I presume, from their cautious, calculating habits; and they have always more or less of a nasal twang. I once said to a lady, “Why do you drawl out your words in that way?”“Well,” replied she, “I’d drawl all the way from Maine to Georgia, rather thanclipmy words as you English people do.”Many English words are used in a very different sense from that which we attach to them; for instance: acleverperson in America means an amiable, good-tempered person, and the Americans make the distinction by saying, I mean English clever.Ourcleveris represented by the wordsmart.The verbto admireis also used in the East, instead of the verbto like.“Have you ever been at Paris?”“No; but I shouldadmireto go.”A Yankee description of a clever woman:—“Well, now, she’ll walk right into you, and talk to you like a book;” or, as I have heard them say, “she’ll talk you out of sight.”The word ugly is used for cross, ill-tempered. “I did feel souglywhen he said that.”Badis used in an odd sense: it is employed for awkward, uncomfortable: sorry:—“I did feel sobadwhen I read that”—awkward.“I have felt quitebadabout it ever since”—uncomfortable.“She was sobad, I thought she would cry”—sorry.And as bad is tantamount to notgood, I have heard a lady say, “I don’t feelat all goodthis morning.”Mean is occasionally used for ashamed.“I never felt so mean in my life.”The word handsome is oddly used.“We reckon this very handsome scenery, sir,” said an American to me, pointing to the landscape.“I consider him very truthful,” is another expression.“He stimulates too much.”“He dissipates awfully.”And they are very fond of using the noun as a verb, as—“Isuspicionthat’s a fact.”“Iopinionquite the contrary.”The wordconsiderableis in considerable demand in the United States. In a work in which the letters of the party had been given to the public as specimens of good style and polite literature, it is used as follows:—“My dear sister, I have taken up the pen early this morning, as I intend to writeconsiderable.” (Life and Remains of Charles Pont.)The word great is oddly used for fine, splendid.“She’s thegreatestgal in the whole Union.”But there is one word which we must surrender up to the Americans as theirvery own, as the children say. I will quote a passage from one of their papers:—“The editor of thePhiladelphia Gazetteis wrong in calling absquatiated a Kentuckyphrase(he may well say phrase instead ofword.) It may prevail there, but its origin was in South Carolina, where it was a few years since regularly derived from the Latin, as we can prove from undoubted authority. By the way, there is a littlecorruptionis the word as theGazetteuses it,absquatalizedis the true reading.”Certainly a word worth quarrelling about!“Are you cold, miss?” said I to a young lady, who pulled the shawl closer over her shoulders.“Some,” was the reply.The Englishwhat? implying that you did not hear what was said to you, is changed in America to the wordhow?“I reckon,” “I calculate,” “I guess,” are all used as the common English phrase, “I suppose.” Each term is said to be peculiar to different states, but I found them used everywhere, one as often as the other.I opine, is not so common.A specimen of Yankee dialect and conversation:—“Well now, I’ll tell you—you know Marble Head?”“Guess I do.”“Well, then, you know Sally Hackett.”“No, indeed.”“Not know Sally Hackett? Why she lives at Marble Head.”“Guess I don’t.”“You don’t mean to say that?”“Yes, indeed.”“And you really don’t know Sally Hackett?”“No, indeed.”“I guess you’ve heard talk of her?”“No, indeed.”“Well, that’s considerable odd. Now, I’ll tell you—Ephraim Bagg, he that has the farm three miles from Marble Head—just as—but now, are you sure you don’t know Sally Hackett?”“No, indeed.”“Well, he’s a pretty substantial man, and no mistake. He has got a heart as big as an ox, and everything else in proportion, I’ve a notion. He loves Sal, the worst kind; and if she gets up there, she’ll think she has got to Palestine (Paradise); ain’t she a screamer? I were thinking of Sal myself, for I feel lonesome, and when I am thrown into my store promiscuous alone, I can tell you I have the blues, the worst kind, no mistake—I can tell you that. I always feel a kind o’ queer when I sees Sal, but when I meet any of the other gals I am as calm and cool as the milky way,” etcetera, etcetera.The verb “to fix” is universal. It means to do anything.“Shall Ifixyour coat or your breakfast first?” That is—“Shall I brush your coat, orget readyyour breakfast first!”Right away, for immediately or at once, is very general.“Shall I fix it right away?”—i.e. “Shall I do it immediately?”In the West, when you stop at an inn, they say—“What will you have? Brown meal and common doings, or white wheat and chickenfixings;”—that is, “Will you have pork and brown bread, or white bread and fried chicken?”Also, “Will you have afeedor acheck?”—A dinner, or a luncheon?Infull blast—something in the extreme.“When she came to meeting, with her yellow hat and feathers, wasn’t shein fall blast?”But for more specimens of genuine Yankee, I must refer the reader to Sam Slick and Major Downing, and shall now proceed to some farther peculiarities.There are two syllables—um, hu—which are very generally used by the Americans as a sort of reply, intimating that they are attentive, and that the party may proceed with his narrative; but, by inflection and intonation, these two syllables are made to express dissent or assent, surprise, disdain, and (like Lord Burleigh’s nod in the play) a great deal more. The reason why these two syllables have been selected is, that they can be pronounced without the trouble of opening your mouth, and you may be in a state of listlessness and repose while others talk. I myself found them very convenient at times, and gradually got into the habit of using them.The Americans are very local in their phrases, and borrow their similes very much from the nature of their occupations and pursuits. If you ask a Virginian or Kentuckian where he was born, he will invariably tell you that he wasraisedin such a county—the term applied to horses, and, in breeding states, to men also.When a man is tipsy (spirits being made from grain), they generally say he iscorned.In the West, where steam-navigation is so abundant, when they ask you to drink they say, “Stranger, will you take in wood?”—the vessels taking in wood as fuel to keep the steam up, and the person taking in spirits to keephissteam up.The roads in the country being cut through woods, and the stumps of the trees left standing, the carriages are often brought up by them. Hence the expression of, “Well, I amstumpedthis time.”I heard a young man, a farmer in Vermont, say, when talking about another having gained the heart of a pretty girl, “Well, how he contrived toforkinto her young affections, I can’t tell; but I’ve a mind toput my whole team on, and see if I can’t run him off the road.”The old phrase of “straining at a gnat, and swallowing a camel,” is, in the Eastern states, rendered “straining at agate, and swallowing asaw-mill.”To strike means to attack. “The Indians have struck on the frontier,”—“A rattle-snakestruckat me.”To make tracks—to walk away. “Well, now, I shall make tracks;”—from foot-tracks in the snow.Clear out, quit, and put—all mean “be off.” “Captain, now, youhushorput”—that is, “Either hold your tongue, or be off.” Also, “Will you shut, mister?”—i.e. will you shut your mouth? i.e. hold your tongue?“Curl up”—to be angry—from the panther and other animals when angry raising their hair. “Rise my dandee up,” from the human hair; and a nasty idea. “Wrathy” is another common expression. Also, “Savage as a meat-axe.”Here are two real American words:—“Sloping”—for slinking away.“Splunging,” like a porpoise.The word “enthusiasm,” in the south, is changed to “entuzzy-muzzy.”In the Western states, where the racoon is plentiful, they use the abbreviation ’coon when speaking of people. When at New York, I went into a hair-dresser’s shop to have my hair cut; there were two young men front the west—one under the barber’s hands, the other standing by him.“I say,” said the one who was having his hair cut, “I hear Captain is in the country.”“Yes;” replied the other, “so they say; I should like to see the ’coon.”“I’m agone ’coon” implies “I am distressed—orruined—orlost.” I once asked the origin of this expression, and was very gravely told as follows:—“There is a Captain Martin Scott (already mentioned in the Diary) in the United States Army who is a remarkable shot with a rifle. He was raised, I believe, in Vermont. His fame was so considerable through the state, that even the animals were aware of it. He went out one morning with his rifle, and spying a racoon upon the upper branches of a high tree, brought his gun up to his shoulder; when the racoon perceiving it, raised his paw for a parley. ‘I beg your pardon, mister,’ said the racoon, very politely; ‘but may I ask you if your name is Scott?’—‘Yes,’ replied the captain.—‘MartinScott?’ continued the racoon—‘Yes,’ replied the captain—‘CaptainMartin Scott?’ still continued the animal.—‘Yes,’ replied the captain, ‘Captain Martin Scott?’—‘Oh! then,’ says the animal, ‘I may just as well come down, for I’m agone ’coon.’”But one of the strangest perversions of the meaning of a word which I ever heard of is in Kentucky, where sometimes the wordnastyis used fornice. For instance: at a rustic dance in that state a Kentuckian said to an acquaintance of mine, in reply to his asking the name of a very fine girl, “That’s my sister, stranger; and I flatter myself that she shows thenastiestankle in all Kentuck”—Unde derivatur, from the constant rifle-practice in that state, a good shot or a pretty shot is termed also a nasty shot, because it would make anastywound:ergo, a nice or pretty ankle becomes anastyone.The term for all baggage, especially in the south or west, is “plunder.” This has been derived from the buccaneers, who for so long a time infested the bayores and creeks near the mouth of the Mississippi, and whose luggage was probably very correctly so designated.I must not omit a specimen of American criticism.“Well, Abel, what d’ye think of our native genus, Mister Forrest?”“Well, I don’t go much to theatricals, that’s a fact; but I do thinkhe piled the agony up a little too highin that last scene.”The gamblers on the Mississippi use a very refined phrase for “cheating”—“playing the advantages over him.”But, as may be supposed, the principal terms used are those which are borrowed from trade and commerce.The rest, or remainder, is usually termed the balance.“Put some of those apples into a dish, and thebalanceinto the storeroom.”When a person has made a mistake, or is out in his calculation, they say, “You missed a figure that time.”In a skirmish last war, the fire from the British was very severe, and the men in the American ranks were falling fast, when one of the soldiers stepped up to the commanding officer and said, “Colonel, don’t you think that we might compromise this affair?” “Well, I reckon I should have no objection tosubmit it to arbitrationmyself,” replied the colonel.Even the thieves must be commercial in their ideas. One rogue meeting another, asked him what he had done that morning; “Not much,” was the reply, “I’ve onlyrealisedthis umbrella.”This reminds me of a conversation between a man and his wife, which was overheard by the party who repeated it to me. It appears that the lady was economically inclined, and in cutting out some shirts for her husband, resolved that they should not descend much lower than his hip; as thereby so much linen would be saved. The husband expostulated, but in vain. She pointed out to him that it would improve his figure, and make his nether garments set much better; in a word, that long shirt-tails were quite unnecessary; and she wound up her arguments by observing that linen was a very expensive article, and that she could not see what on earth was the reason that people should stuff so muchcapitalinto their pantaloons.There is sometimes in the American metaphors, an energy which is very remarkable.“Well, I reckon, that from his teeth to his toe-nail, there’s not a human of a more conquering nature than General Jackson.”Onegentlemansaid to me, “I wish I had all hell boiled down to a pint, just to pour down your throat.”It is a great pity that the Americans have not adhered more to the Indian names, which are euphonous, and very often musical; but, so far from it, they appear to have had a pleasure in dismissing them altogether. There is a river running into Lake Champlain, near Burlington, formerly called by the Indians the Winooski; but this name has been superseded by the settlers, who, by way of improvement, have designated it the Onion river. The Americans have ransacked scripture, and ancient and modern history, to supply themselves with names, yet, notwithstanding, there appears to be a strange lack of taste in their selection. On the route to Lake Ontario you pass towns with such names as Manlius, Sempronius, Titus, Cato, and then you come toButternuts. Looking over the catalogue of cities, towns, villages, rivers, and creeks in the different states in the Union, I find the following repetitions:—Of towns, etcetera, named after distinguished individuals, there are:—Washingtons43Carrolls16Jacksons41Adamses18Jeffersons32Bolivars8Franklins41Clintons19Madisons26Waynes14Monroes25Casses6Perrys22Clays4Fayettes14Fultons17Hamiltons13Of other towns, etcetera, there are:—Columbus27Libertys14Centre Villes14Salems24Fairfields17Onions28Athenses10Muds8Romes4Little Muds1Crookeds22Muddies11Littles20Sandys39Longs18In colours they have:—Clears13Greens16Blacks33Whites15Blues8Yellows10Vermilions14Named after trees:—Cedars25Laurels14Cypresses12Pines18After animals:—Beavers23Foxes12Buffaloes21Otters13Bulls9Racoons11Deers13Wolfs16Dogs9Bears12Elks11Bear's Rump1After birds, etcetera:—Gooses10Fishes7Ducks8Turkeys12Eagles8Swans15Pigeons10Pikes20The consequence of these repetitions is, that if you do not put the name of the state, and often of the county in the state in which the town you refer to may be, your letter may journey all over the Union, and perhaps, after all, never arrive at its place of destination.The states have already accommodated each other with nicknames, as per example:—Illinois people are termedSuckersMissouriPukesMichiganWolverinesIndianaHoosiersKentuckyCorn CrackersOhioBuckeyes, etceteraThe names of persons are also very strange; and some of them are, at all events, obsolete in England, even if they ever existed there. Many of them are said to be French or Dutch names Americanised. But they appear still more odd to us from the high sounding Christian names prefixed to them; as, for instance: Philo Doolittle, Populorum Hightower, Preserved Fish, Asa Peabody, Alonzo Lilly, Alceus Wolf, etcetera. I was told by a gentleman that Doolittle was originally from the French Do l’hotel; Peabody from Pibaudiere; Bunker from Bon Coeur; that Mr Ezekial Bumpus is a descendant of Monsieur Bon Pas, etcetera, all which is very possible.Every one who is acquainted with Washington Irving must know that, being very sensitive himself, he is one of the last men in the world to do anything to annoy another. In his selection of names for his writings, he was cautious in avoiding such as might be known; so that, when he called his old schoolmaster Ichabod Crane, he thought himself safe from the risk of giving offence. Shortly afterward a friend of his called upon him, accompanied by a stranger whom he introduced as Major Crane; Irving started at the name; “Major Ichabod Crane,” continued his friend, much to the horror of Washington Irving.I was told that a merchant went down to New Orleans with one Christian name, and came back, after a lapse of years, with another. His name was John Flint. The French at New Orleans translated his surname, and called him Pierre Fusée—on his return the Pierre stuck to him, and rendered into English as Peter, and he was called Peter Flint ever afterward.People may change their names in the United States by application to Congress. They have a story hardly worth relating, although considered a good one in America, having been told me by a member of congress. A Mr Whitepimple, having risen in the world, was persuaded by his wife to change his name, and applied for permission accordingly. The clerk of the office inquired of him what other name he would have, and he being very indifferent about it himself, replied carelessly, as he walked away, “Oh, anything;” whereupon the clerk enrolled him as MrThing. Time passed on, and he had a numerous family, who found the new name not much more agreeable than the old one, for there was Miss Sally Thing, Miss Dolly Thing, the old Things, and all the little Things; and worst of all, the eldest son being christened Robert, went by the name of Thingum Bob.There were, and I believe still are, two lawyers in partnership in New York, with the peculiarly happy names of Catchem and Chetum. People laughed at seeing these two names in juxtaposition over the door; so the lawyers thought it advisable to separate them by the insertion of their Christian names. Mr Catchem’s Christian name was Isaac, Mr Chetum’s Uriah. A new board was ordered, but when sent to the painter, it was found to be too short to admit the Christian names at full length. The painter, therefore, put in only the initials before the surnames, which made the matter still worse than before, for there now appeared—“I Catchem and U Chetum.”I cannot conclude this chapter without adverting to one or two points peculiar to the Americans. They wish, in everything, to improve upon the Old Country, as they call us, and affect to be excessively refined in their language and ideas: but they forget that very often in the covering, and the covering only, consists the indecency; and that, to use the old aphorism—“Very nice people are people with very nasty ideas.”They object to everything nude in statuary. When I was at the house of Governor Everett, at Boston, I observed a fine cast of the Apollo Belvidere; but in compliance with general opinion, it was hung with drapery, although Governor Everett himself is a gentleman of refined mind and high classical attainments, and quite above such ridiculous sensitiveness. In language it is the same thing. There are certain words which are never used in America, but an absurd substitute is employed. I cannot particularise them after this preface, lest I should be accused of indelicacy myself. I may, however, state one little circumstance which will fully prove the correctness of what I say.When at Niagara Falls I was escorting a young lady with whom I was on friendly terms. She had been standing on a piece of rock, the better to view the scene, when she slipped down, and was evidently hurt by the fall: she had, in fact, grazed her shin. As she limped a little in walking home, I said, “Did you hurt your leg much?” She turned from me, evidently much shocked, or much offended,—and not being aware that I had committed any very heinous offence, I begged to know what was the reason of her displeasure. After some hesitation, she said that as she knew me well, she would tell me that the wordlegwas never mentioned before ladies. I apologised for my want of refinement, which was attributable to having been accustomed only toEnglishsociety; and added, that as such articles must occasionally be referred to, even in the most polite circles in America, perhaps she would inform me by what name I might mention them without shocking the company. Her reply was, that the wordlimbwas used; “nay,” continued she, “I am not so particular as some people are, for I know those who always say limb of a table, or limb of a piano-forte.”There the conversation dropped; but a few months afterwards I was obliged to acknowledge that the young lady was correct when she asserted that some people were more particular than even she was.I was requested by a lady to escort her to a seminary for young ladies, and on being ushered into the reception-room, conceive my astonishment at beholding a square piano-forte with fourlimbs. However, that the ladies who visited their daughters might feel in its full force the extreme delicacy (see note at end of chapter) of the mistress of the establishment, and her care to preserve in their utmost purity the ideas of the young ladies under her charge, she had dressed all these four limbs in modest little trousers, with frills at the bottom of them!“An English lady, who had long kept a fashionable boarding-school in one of the Atlantic cities, told me that one of her earliest cares with every new-comer, was to endeavour to substitute real delicacy for that affected precision of manner. Among many anecdotes, she told me of a young lady about fourteen, who, on entering the receiving-room, where she only expected to see a lady who had inquired for her, and finding a young man with her, put her hands before her eyes and ran out of the room again, screaming ‘A man, a man, a man!’ On another occasion, one of the young ladies in going up stairs to the drawing-room, unfortunately met a boy of fourteen coming down, and her feelings were so violently agitated, that she stopped, panting and sobbing, nor would she pass on till the boy had swung himself up on the upper bannisters, to leave the passage free.”—Mrs Trollope’s Domestic Manners of the Americans.

The Americans boldly assert that they speak better English than we do, and I was rather surprised not to find a statistical table to that effect in Mr Carey’s publication. What I believe the Americans would imply by the above assertion is that you may travel through all the United States and find less difficulty in understanding or being understood, than in some of the counties of England, such as Cornwall, Devonshire, Lancashire and Suffolk. So far they are correct; but it is remarkable how very debased the language has become in a short period in America. There are few provincial dialects in England much less intelligible than the following. A Yankee girl, who wished to hire herself out, was asked if the had any followers or sweethearts? After a little hesitation, she replied, “Well, now, can’t exactly say; I bees a sorter courted and a sorter not; reckon more a sorter yes than a sorter no.” In many points the Americans have to a certain degree obtained that equality which they profess; and, as respects their language, it certainly is the case. If their lower classes are more intelligible than ours, it is equally true that the higher classes do not speak the language so purely or so classically as it is spoken among the well educated English. The peculiar dialect of the English counties is kept up because we are a settled country; the people who are born in a county live in it, and die in it, transmitting their sites of labour or of amusement to their descendants, generation after generation, without change: consequently, the provincialisms of the language become equally hereditary. Now, in America, they have a dictionary containing many thousands of words, which, with us, are either obsolete or are provincialisms, or are words necessarily invented by the Americans. When the people of England emigrated to the states, they came from every county in England, and each county brought its provincialisms with it. These were admitted into the general stock; and were since all collected and bound up by one Mr Webster. With the exception of a few words coined for local uses (such assnagsandsawyers, on the Mississippi,) I do not recollect a word which I have not traced to be either a provincialism of some English county, or else to be obsolete English. There are a few from the Dutch, such asstoup, for the porch of a door, etcetera. I was once talking with an American about Webster’s dictionary, and he observed, “Well now, sir, I understand it’s the only one used in the Court of St. James, by the king, queen, and princesses, and that by royal order.”

The upper class of the Americans do not, however, speak or pronounce English according to our standard; they appear to have no exact rule to guide them, probably from the want of any intimate knowledge of Greek or Latin. You seldom hear a derivation from the Greek pronounced correctly, the accent being generally laid upon the wrong syllable. In fact, every one appears to be independent, and pronounces just as he pleases.

But it is not for me to decide the very momentous question, as to which nation speaks the best English. The Americans generally improve upon the inventions of others; probably they may have improved upon our language.

I recollect some one observing how very superior the German language was to the English, from their possessing so many compound substantives and adjectives; whereupon his friend replied, that it was just as easy for us to possess them in England if we pleased, and gave us as an example an observation made by his old dame at Eaton, who declared that young Paulet was, without any exception, the mostgood-for-nothing-est, the mostprovoking-people-est, and the mostpoke-about-every-corner-estboy she had ever had charge of in her life.

Assuming this principle of improvement to be correct, it must be acknowledged that the Americans have added considerably to our dictionary; but, as I have before observed, this being a point of too much delicacy for me to decide upon, I shall just submit to the reader the occasional variations, or improvements, as they may be, which met my ears during my residence in America, as also the idiomatic peculiarities, and having so done, I must leave him to decide for himself.

I recollect once talking with one of the first men in America, who was narrating to me the advantages which might have accrued to him if he had followed up a certain speculation, when he said, “Sir, if I had done so, I should not only havedoubledandtrebled, but I should havefourbledandfivebledmy money.”

One of the members of congress once said, “What the honourable gentleman has just asserted I consider ascatamountto a denial;”—(catamount is the term given to a panther or lynx.)

“I presume,” replied his opponent, “that the honourable gentleman meanstantamount.”

“No, sir, I do not meantantamount; I am not so ignorant of our language, not to be aware that catamount and tantamount are anonymous.”

The Americans dwell upon their words when they speak—a custom arising, I presume, from their cautious, calculating habits; and they have always more or less of a nasal twang. I once said to a lady, “Why do you drawl out your words in that way?”

“Well,” replied she, “I’d drawl all the way from Maine to Georgia, rather thanclipmy words as you English people do.”

Many English words are used in a very different sense from that which we attach to them; for instance: acleverperson in America means an amiable, good-tempered person, and the Americans make the distinction by saying, I mean English clever.

Ourcleveris represented by the wordsmart.

The verbto admireis also used in the East, instead of the verbto like.

“Have you ever been at Paris?”

“No; but I shouldadmireto go.”

A Yankee description of a clever woman:—

“Well, now, she’ll walk right into you, and talk to you like a book;” or, as I have heard them say, “she’ll talk you out of sight.”

The word ugly is used for cross, ill-tempered. “I did feel souglywhen he said that.”

Badis used in an odd sense: it is employed for awkward, uncomfortable: sorry:—

“I did feel sobadwhen I read that”—awkward.

“I have felt quitebadabout it ever since”—uncomfortable.

“She was sobad, I thought she would cry”—sorry.

And as bad is tantamount to notgood, I have heard a lady say, “I don’t feelat all goodthis morning.”

Mean is occasionally used for ashamed.

“I never felt so mean in my life.”

The word handsome is oddly used.

“We reckon this very handsome scenery, sir,” said an American to me, pointing to the landscape.

“I consider him very truthful,” is another expression.

“He stimulates too much.”

“He dissipates awfully.”

And they are very fond of using the noun as a verb, as—“Isuspicionthat’s a fact.”

“Iopinionquite the contrary.”

The wordconsiderableis in considerable demand in the United States. In a work in which the letters of the party had been given to the public as specimens of good style and polite literature, it is used as follows:—

“My dear sister, I have taken up the pen early this morning, as I intend to writeconsiderable.” (Life and Remains of Charles Pont.)

The word great is oddly used for fine, splendid.

“She’s thegreatestgal in the whole Union.”

But there is one word which we must surrender up to the Americans as theirvery own, as the children say. I will quote a passage from one of their papers:—

“The editor of thePhiladelphia Gazetteis wrong in calling absquatiated a Kentuckyphrase(he may well say phrase instead ofword.) It may prevail there, but its origin was in South Carolina, where it was a few years since regularly derived from the Latin, as we can prove from undoubted authority. By the way, there is a littlecorruptionis the word as theGazetteuses it,absquatalizedis the true reading.”

Certainly a word worth quarrelling about!

“Are you cold, miss?” said I to a young lady, who pulled the shawl closer over her shoulders.

“Some,” was the reply.

The Englishwhat? implying that you did not hear what was said to you, is changed in America to the wordhow?

“I reckon,” “I calculate,” “I guess,” are all used as the common English phrase, “I suppose.” Each term is said to be peculiar to different states, but I found them used everywhere, one as often as the other.I opine, is not so common.

A specimen of Yankee dialect and conversation:—

“Well now, I’ll tell you—you know Marble Head?”

“Guess I do.”

“Well, then, you know Sally Hackett.”

“No, indeed.”

“Not know Sally Hackett? Why she lives at Marble Head.”

“Guess I don’t.”

“You don’t mean to say that?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“And you really don’t know Sally Hackett?”

“No, indeed.”

“I guess you’ve heard talk of her?”

“No, indeed.”

“Well, that’s considerable odd. Now, I’ll tell you—Ephraim Bagg, he that has the farm three miles from Marble Head—just as—but now, are you sure you don’t know Sally Hackett?”

“No, indeed.”

“Well, he’s a pretty substantial man, and no mistake. He has got a heart as big as an ox, and everything else in proportion, I’ve a notion. He loves Sal, the worst kind; and if she gets up there, she’ll think she has got to Palestine (Paradise); ain’t she a screamer? I were thinking of Sal myself, for I feel lonesome, and when I am thrown into my store promiscuous alone, I can tell you I have the blues, the worst kind, no mistake—I can tell you that. I always feel a kind o’ queer when I sees Sal, but when I meet any of the other gals I am as calm and cool as the milky way,” etcetera, etcetera.

The verb “to fix” is universal. It means to do anything.

“Shall Ifixyour coat or your breakfast first?” That is—“Shall I brush your coat, orget readyyour breakfast first!”

Right away, for immediately or at once, is very general.

“Shall I fix it right away?”—i.e. “Shall I do it immediately?”

In the West, when you stop at an inn, they say—

“What will you have? Brown meal and common doings, or white wheat and chickenfixings;”—that is, “Will you have pork and brown bread, or white bread and fried chicken?”

Also, “Will you have afeedor acheck?”—A dinner, or a luncheon?

Infull blast—something in the extreme.

“When she came to meeting, with her yellow hat and feathers, wasn’t shein fall blast?”

But for more specimens of genuine Yankee, I must refer the reader to Sam Slick and Major Downing, and shall now proceed to some farther peculiarities.

There are two syllables—um, hu—which are very generally used by the Americans as a sort of reply, intimating that they are attentive, and that the party may proceed with his narrative; but, by inflection and intonation, these two syllables are made to express dissent or assent, surprise, disdain, and (like Lord Burleigh’s nod in the play) a great deal more. The reason why these two syllables have been selected is, that they can be pronounced without the trouble of opening your mouth, and you may be in a state of listlessness and repose while others talk. I myself found them very convenient at times, and gradually got into the habit of using them.

The Americans are very local in their phrases, and borrow their similes very much from the nature of their occupations and pursuits. If you ask a Virginian or Kentuckian where he was born, he will invariably tell you that he wasraisedin such a county—the term applied to horses, and, in breeding states, to men also.

When a man is tipsy (spirits being made from grain), they generally say he iscorned.

In the West, where steam-navigation is so abundant, when they ask you to drink they say, “Stranger, will you take in wood?”—the vessels taking in wood as fuel to keep the steam up, and the person taking in spirits to keephissteam up.

The roads in the country being cut through woods, and the stumps of the trees left standing, the carriages are often brought up by them. Hence the expression of, “Well, I amstumpedthis time.”

I heard a young man, a farmer in Vermont, say, when talking about another having gained the heart of a pretty girl, “Well, how he contrived toforkinto her young affections, I can’t tell; but I’ve a mind toput my whole team on, and see if I can’t run him off the road.”

The old phrase of “straining at a gnat, and swallowing a camel,” is, in the Eastern states, rendered “straining at agate, and swallowing asaw-mill.”

To strike means to attack. “The Indians have struck on the frontier,”—“A rattle-snakestruckat me.”

To make tracks—to walk away. “Well, now, I shall make tracks;”—from foot-tracks in the snow.

Clear out, quit, and put—all mean “be off.” “Captain, now, youhushorput”—that is, “Either hold your tongue, or be off.” Also, “Will you shut, mister?”—i.e. will you shut your mouth? i.e. hold your tongue?

“Curl up”—to be angry—from the panther and other animals when angry raising their hair. “Rise my dandee up,” from the human hair; and a nasty idea. “Wrathy” is another common expression. Also, “Savage as a meat-axe.”

Here are two real American words:—

“Sloping”—for slinking away.

“Splunging,” like a porpoise.

The word “enthusiasm,” in the south, is changed to “entuzzy-muzzy.”

In the Western states, where the racoon is plentiful, they use the abbreviation ’coon when speaking of people. When at New York, I went into a hair-dresser’s shop to have my hair cut; there were two young men front the west—one under the barber’s hands, the other standing by him.

“I say,” said the one who was having his hair cut, “I hear Captain is in the country.”

“Yes;” replied the other, “so they say; I should like to see the ’coon.”

“I’m agone ’coon” implies “I am distressed—orruined—orlost.” I once asked the origin of this expression, and was very gravely told as follows:—

“There is a Captain Martin Scott (already mentioned in the Diary) in the United States Army who is a remarkable shot with a rifle. He was raised, I believe, in Vermont. His fame was so considerable through the state, that even the animals were aware of it. He went out one morning with his rifle, and spying a racoon upon the upper branches of a high tree, brought his gun up to his shoulder; when the racoon perceiving it, raised his paw for a parley. ‘I beg your pardon, mister,’ said the racoon, very politely; ‘but may I ask you if your name is Scott?’—‘Yes,’ replied the captain.—‘MartinScott?’ continued the racoon—‘Yes,’ replied the captain—‘CaptainMartin Scott?’ still continued the animal.—‘Yes,’ replied the captain, ‘Captain Martin Scott?’—‘Oh! then,’ says the animal, ‘I may just as well come down, for I’m agone ’coon.’”

But one of the strangest perversions of the meaning of a word which I ever heard of is in Kentucky, where sometimes the wordnastyis used fornice. For instance: at a rustic dance in that state a Kentuckian said to an acquaintance of mine, in reply to his asking the name of a very fine girl, “That’s my sister, stranger; and I flatter myself that she shows thenastiestankle in all Kentuck”—Unde derivatur, from the constant rifle-practice in that state, a good shot or a pretty shot is termed also a nasty shot, because it would make anastywound:ergo, a nice or pretty ankle becomes anastyone.

The term for all baggage, especially in the south or west, is “plunder.” This has been derived from the buccaneers, who for so long a time infested the bayores and creeks near the mouth of the Mississippi, and whose luggage was probably very correctly so designated.

I must not omit a specimen of American criticism.

“Well, Abel, what d’ye think of our native genus, Mister Forrest?”

“Well, I don’t go much to theatricals, that’s a fact; but I do thinkhe piled the agony up a little too highin that last scene.”

The gamblers on the Mississippi use a very refined phrase for “cheating”—“playing the advantages over him.”

But, as may be supposed, the principal terms used are those which are borrowed from trade and commerce.

The rest, or remainder, is usually termed the balance.

“Put some of those apples into a dish, and thebalanceinto the storeroom.”

When a person has made a mistake, or is out in his calculation, they say, “You missed a figure that time.”

In a skirmish last war, the fire from the British was very severe, and the men in the American ranks were falling fast, when one of the soldiers stepped up to the commanding officer and said, “Colonel, don’t you think that we might compromise this affair?” “Well, I reckon I should have no objection tosubmit it to arbitrationmyself,” replied the colonel.

Even the thieves must be commercial in their ideas. One rogue meeting another, asked him what he had done that morning; “Not much,” was the reply, “I’ve onlyrealisedthis umbrella.”

This reminds me of a conversation between a man and his wife, which was overheard by the party who repeated it to me. It appears that the lady was economically inclined, and in cutting out some shirts for her husband, resolved that they should not descend much lower than his hip; as thereby so much linen would be saved. The husband expostulated, but in vain. She pointed out to him that it would improve his figure, and make his nether garments set much better; in a word, that long shirt-tails were quite unnecessary; and she wound up her arguments by observing that linen was a very expensive article, and that she could not see what on earth was the reason that people should stuff so muchcapitalinto their pantaloons.

There is sometimes in the American metaphors, an energy which is very remarkable.

“Well, I reckon, that from his teeth to his toe-nail, there’s not a human of a more conquering nature than General Jackson.”

Onegentlemansaid to me, “I wish I had all hell boiled down to a pint, just to pour down your throat.”

It is a great pity that the Americans have not adhered more to the Indian names, which are euphonous, and very often musical; but, so far from it, they appear to have had a pleasure in dismissing them altogether. There is a river running into Lake Champlain, near Burlington, formerly called by the Indians the Winooski; but this name has been superseded by the settlers, who, by way of improvement, have designated it the Onion river. The Americans have ransacked scripture, and ancient and modern history, to supply themselves with names, yet, notwithstanding, there appears to be a strange lack of taste in their selection. On the route to Lake Ontario you pass towns with such names as Manlius, Sempronius, Titus, Cato, and then you come toButternuts. Looking over the catalogue of cities, towns, villages, rivers, and creeks in the different states in the Union, I find the following repetitions:—

Of towns, etcetera, named after distinguished individuals, there are:—

Of other towns, etcetera, there are:—

In colours they have:—

Named after trees:—

After animals:—

After birds, etcetera:—

The consequence of these repetitions is, that if you do not put the name of the state, and often of the county in the state in which the town you refer to may be, your letter may journey all over the Union, and perhaps, after all, never arrive at its place of destination.

The states have already accommodated each other with nicknames, as per example:—

The names of persons are also very strange; and some of them are, at all events, obsolete in England, even if they ever existed there. Many of them are said to be French or Dutch names Americanised. But they appear still more odd to us from the high sounding Christian names prefixed to them; as, for instance: Philo Doolittle, Populorum Hightower, Preserved Fish, Asa Peabody, Alonzo Lilly, Alceus Wolf, etcetera. I was told by a gentleman that Doolittle was originally from the French Do l’hotel; Peabody from Pibaudiere; Bunker from Bon Coeur; that Mr Ezekial Bumpus is a descendant of Monsieur Bon Pas, etcetera, all which is very possible.

Every one who is acquainted with Washington Irving must know that, being very sensitive himself, he is one of the last men in the world to do anything to annoy another. In his selection of names for his writings, he was cautious in avoiding such as might be known; so that, when he called his old schoolmaster Ichabod Crane, he thought himself safe from the risk of giving offence. Shortly afterward a friend of his called upon him, accompanied by a stranger whom he introduced as Major Crane; Irving started at the name; “Major Ichabod Crane,” continued his friend, much to the horror of Washington Irving.

I was told that a merchant went down to New Orleans with one Christian name, and came back, after a lapse of years, with another. His name was John Flint. The French at New Orleans translated his surname, and called him Pierre Fusée—on his return the Pierre stuck to him, and rendered into English as Peter, and he was called Peter Flint ever afterward.

People may change their names in the United States by application to Congress. They have a story hardly worth relating, although considered a good one in America, having been told me by a member of congress. A Mr Whitepimple, having risen in the world, was persuaded by his wife to change his name, and applied for permission accordingly. The clerk of the office inquired of him what other name he would have, and he being very indifferent about it himself, replied carelessly, as he walked away, “Oh, anything;” whereupon the clerk enrolled him as MrThing. Time passed on, and he had a numerous family, who found the new name not much more agreeable than the old one, for there was Miss Sally Thing, Miss Dolly Thing, the old Things, and all the little Things; and worst of all, the eldest son being christened Robert, went by the name of Thingum Bob.

There were, and I believe still are, two lawyers in partnership in New York, with the peculiarly happy names of Catchem and Chetum. People laughed at seeing these two names in juxtaposition over the door; so the lawyers thought it advisable to separate them by the insertion of their Christian names. Mr Catchem’s Christian name was Isaac, Mr Chetum’s Uriah. A new board was ordered, but when sent to the painter, it was found to be too short to admit the Christian names at full length. The painter, therefore, put in only the initials before the surnames, which made the matter still worse than before, for there now appeared—

I cannot conclude this chapter without adverting to one or two points peculiar to the Americans. They wish, in everything, to improve upon the Old Country, as they call us, and affect to be excessively refined in their language and ideas: but they forget that very often in the covering, and the covering only, consists the indecency; and that, to use the old aphorism—“Very nice people are people with very nasty ideas.”

They object to everything nude in statuary. When I was at the house of Governor Everett, at Boston, I observed a fine cast of the Apollo Belvidere; but in compliance with general opinion, it was hung with drapery, although Governor Everett himself is a gentleman of refined mind and high classical attainments, and quite above such ridiculous sensitiveness. In language it is the same thing. There are certain words which are never used in America, but an absurd substitute is employed. I cannot particularise them after this preface, lest I should be accused of indelicacy myself. I may, however, state one little circumstance which will fully prove the correctness of what I say.

When at Niagara Falls I was escorting a young lady with whom I was on friendly terms. She had been standing on a piece of rock, the better to view the scene, when she slipped down, and was evidently hurt by the fall: she had, in fact, grazed her shin. As she limped a little in walking home, I said, “Did you hurt your leg much?” She turned from me, evidently much shocked, or much offended,—and not being aware that I had committed any very heinous offence, I begged to know what was the reason of her displeasure. After some hesitation, she said that as she knew me well, she would tell me that the wordlegwas never mentioned before ladies. I apologised for my want of refinement, which was attributable to having been accustomed only toEnglishsociety; and added, that as such articles must occasionally be referred to, even in the most polite circles in America, perhaps she would inform me by what name I might mention them without shocking the company. Her reply was, that the wordlimbwas used; “nay,” continued she, “I am not so particular as some people are, for I know those who always say limb of a table, or limb of a piano-forte.”

There the conversation dropped; but a few months afterwards I was obliged to acknowledge that the young lady was correct when she asserted that some people were more particular than even she was.

I was requested by a lady to escort her to a seminary for young ladies, and on being ushered into the reception-room, conceive my astonishment at beholding a square piano-forte with fourlimbs. However, that the ladies who visited their daughters might feel in its full force the extreme delicacy (see note at end of chapter) of the mistress of the establishment, and her care to preserve in their utmost purity the ideas of the young ladies under her charge, she had dressed all these four limbs in modest little trousers, with frills at the bottom of them!

“An English lady, who had long kept a fashionable boarding-school in one of the Atlantic cities, told me that one of her earliest cares with every new-comer, was to endeavour to substitute real delicacy for that affected precision of manner. Among many anecdotes, she told me of a young lady about fourteen, who, on entering the receiving-room, where she only expected to see a lady who had inquired for her, and finding a young man with her, put her hands before her eyes and ran out of the room again, screaming ‘A man, a man, a man!’ On another occasion, one of the young ladies in going up stairs to the drawing-room, unfortunately met a boy of fourteen coming down, and her feelings were so violently agitated, that she stopped, panting and sobbing, nor would she pass on till the boy had swung himself up on the upper bannisters, to leave the passage free.”—Mrs Trollope’s Domestic Manners of the Americans.

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