A MILE-STONE by the road-side, or a lamp-post in a city, were they endowed with reflective power, might be supposed to form some idea of the tide of life which flows past them by day, and leaves them stranded in the murk-hours of night to think it over. But for the locomotive which rushes through the land, what could it do but view all things from a false position? Such, it seems to me, is the case with a stray traveller, who finds himself, for a few days or weeks, in a great city, for the first time, and among a people of whom he is not one. Having thus shown that I am quite unfitted for the task, I shall proceed to convey, as best I may, my first impressions of New-York. The floating-castle, which called itself a steam-boat, and brought me from the Amboy station, was full, and I was there alone. Alone, and in as fair a scene as ever painter's eye might dwell upon. No wonder that Americans look with pride upon the noble bay which, by its adaptation to all the wants of commerce, seems to assure to the queen of her waters, sooner or later, the traffic of the world. Here Nature has been strictly utilitarian: no bold coasts, no lofty peaks arrest the eye; but island, main-land, and bay, seem alike hewn from the living rock, affording natural docks and imperishable quays, land-locked from storms and free from shoals. Such is her work; and, as if to complete the design, a race, unequalled in energy and enterprise, heaps her bare rocks with ware-houses and with dwellings, grasping at once at the reins of commerce and productive art. The beauty of that sun-set upon the water I have never seen surpassed light and color formed its charm. The outline was that which caused the old Dutch settlers to call it NewAmsterdam; bare marsh with drooping willows; exotic children of the East, undulating, inverted in these western waters: schooners flagging to the lazy breeze, their reflection distorted by the motion of our boat; and over all, the glorious red of an autumnal evening, deepening the 1 shadows, and lighting up in bright relief each tree, each stump, and every blade of grass. I landed, and all the passengers ran; they were all in haste : "THEY stood not on the order of their going, But went at once.' Their fortunes might have hinged upon that last half minute. Before I left New-York, this had a sort of feverish effect upon me: I, too, felt a sort of nightmare-haste upon me. In the streets are busy crowds of men: 'MEN, my brothers-men, the workers, ever reaping something new; That which they have done, but earnest of the things that they shall do.' The first thing that struck me was a certain care-worn expression; the second, that I had never seen so many well-dressed men; and the third, that in that crowd I alone was idle. The first impression of all great cities I mean the 'living marts of men,' not the petrified relics of departed greatness is to me strikingly similar one general confusion. Like the calculating-machine, the mind must receive a certain number of turns before it shows a clear result. When I did begin to comprehend the growing monster that threatens to clip the world' in its imperial arms, I felt more than ever at a loss to find a parallel in history. Ambitious as Rome, mercantile as Carthage, manufacturing as Tyre, seated like Venice amidst the waters, it grasps at once at all. What though its infant-fingers cannot sway with ease the sceptre? Where it lays its hand it holds; and as the grasp strengthens, use gives skill. The faults of this people if a stranger may venture to name them—are those of their situation and the nature of their growth; not born, but accumulated; a lot separate from the rest of mankind. A child amongst the nations, with the strength and energy of a giant, who shall wonder that the hot blood of youth runs fast and feverish ; and that, boy-like, in its race, it looks back upon, and triumphs over, the competitors it has passed? The youth of nations is as the youth of man, capable of great things, and prone to follies. Who will take experience as a gift? It is the one thing we all refuse until we have paid dearly for it. As with the man, so with the nation; we all deem ourselves exceptions to general rules till inexorable Time bows us down, and wrings Peccavi' from us. Its virtues and its success are its own, wrung by the iron hand of resolute industry from the seas and mountains of its land. In all labor-saving machines they seem to me preërinently great. To say that the taste for arts is unformed, would be to repeat a truism: to say that the elements of such a taste are wanting, would be a slander. 6 The few great architectural monuments that are scattered over Europe and Asia, as the tide-marks of past generations, are but as the few mountains whose heads are coifed in white at mid-summer. How many buildings worthy of a place in history have been given to the world during the existence of this people? How many that will endure as examples when another century shall have swept over the nations? Destroy London and Paris, and a few great skeletons, far apart in their dates, would remain, the rest be undistinguished rubbish. This nation has no past to draw her honors from; or if she has, it is rooted in the glory and the shame of another hemisphere. She is now laying her firm foundations. What her superstructure may be, time alone can tell. Yet, surely, we may hope well of a people whose institutions for charitable purposes so nearly keep pace with her growing wants. The kindness of friends introduced me into the noble asylums upon the Islands. They have been too often described by abler pens than mine, for me to venture upon more than my tribute of admiration to the zeal, intelligence, and success of the devoted men who have charge of them. The schools, too, in the city-wards, though neither quite new nor original in their plan and conduct, have much that is exclusively their own to recommend them; and no heart, not hardened or callous, could see, without an emotion of pleasure, the happy faces of those children beaming while they labored to learn; or want for trust in the people whose wise providence forestalled the jails and dens of infamy by snatching from them the immature fruit ere yet the hand of defilement was upon them. Truly, charity bears its own reward. It has always seemed to me unworthy trifling to carp at, and find fault with, the external habits of so miscellaneous a people. Doubtless we meet with much that we think disagreeable; but were it even in good taste for a stranger to reprehend such things, when the country has in her own bosom men whose station and cultivation renders them her fittest and most inexorable censors, it would yet be well to call to mind that in no other country has the traveller been thrown into the same phase of society. Whereas the fashionable hotel of London contains a class distinct and different from others, the Saint Nicholas and Astor deal out their luxury and magnificence to all who are well dressed and can pay for it; a class made up in this country of the most incongruous materials. The gentleman if my definition may pass the man of pure heart and cultivated understanding, is of no nation. From Siberia to Cape Horn, all lands contain them. But here, conventionality claims rank of gentleman for all men. So be it! We will not dispute upon names; but, if we would be just, we must discriminate meanings. The stranger who falls into the hands of American gentlemen, as I understand the word, had best enjoy the advantage and be thankful: genial and warmhearted, they are noble types of their race. For the ladies, what shall I say? I esteem it my privilege to know a few of them. Should he fall among gentlemen of 'conventionality,' and mistake the metal, HEAVEN help him, say I. As there is no abstract idea of grace or beauty, save in the complete adaptation of each part to the end designed, and the due subservience of the members to the head, so the true criterion of manners and customs must be their fitness for the people for whose use and benefit they are designed. If many things displease a stranger, he should reflect that he is not of the people; and that the habits of life are, in very deed, the dress which the souls of men wear, to be thrown off when they no longer suit. For example, I dislike the hotel-system because it jars with my tastes : and for no better reason, it interferes with my habits, and forbids what I deem essential to my comfort. But here, it is agreeable to the mass of the people, eminently adapted to their wants and requirements, and, as carried out, is a beautiful development of a plan obnoxious to me, but perfection to those who form their occupants. What if I prefer a home and comfort?-is that a reason that none should enjoy a palace and splendor? There is one thing which I have found it hard to keep clear of: either affecting approval of what I disliked, or permitting the inference that I wished to find fault. It is difficult to convince men who desire to have their country well thought of, that there is a wide distinction between your private dislikes, and a want of due appreciation of real advantages and merits. The hardest question in the world to answer is, How do you like us?' To conclude, it seems to me that if there is a cloud in the horizon of this country, it is the undue importance which is given to mere childHow shall men govern who have never learned to obey? ren. Kind Mem'ry presides o'er the days that are past, Oh! I would not exchange that bright dream of the Past, 'Tis a balm to my breast mid the trials of life, R. T. M |