to have contracted habits of indolence and dyspepsia, to be conscious of being a shallow, superficial scholar, a prosy, intolerable speaker, and to have the burden of a church, made up of real flesh-and-blood men and women, on one's hands. This old puritan here whom we have in imagination taken along with us, could tell us of ministers in his day, who might indeed have been fanatical, and extreme sometimes, but for all that when they stood up in the simple majesty of manhood, and spoke to their congregation, assembled perhaps on the open moor, with pikes and carbines in their hands, had at least this merit, that they could be heard. They had something to say, and they said it in a manner which impressed their hearers at least with the belief that they were alive. It is not indeed to be expected that every minister should be a Hercules in body, or a Taylor in intellect, but if log-huts, and Indian fights are necessary to give us exemption from the puny race of beings who attach themselves to the American clergy proper, we had better exchange our boasted civilization, and our double-refined pastors for the Brainerds and the bushes of the last century.

Better be a lawyer Gobble, and get fat, old, and atheistical, if it must be, than a Rev. Thomas Phthisic, disgusting persons brought up by pious parents, and disgracing the cause of religion before its enemies.

We have spoken of the excrescences of American Civilization in the law and the ministry; but it is not alone in the professions that the shallow superficiality of its training is apparent. We boast of our schools, of the superior enlightenment of the masses; but surely we have little cause to boast our scholarship. With the exception of a few brilliant names, men whose native fire would overcome any obstacles, however great, the American scholar, after having completed his college course, is hardly fitted to enter the European University. These may be unpalatable, but they are not unwholesome truths.

Look at this specimen. Mr. John Digitout, valedictorian, lankjawed, hollow-eyed-the splendid scholar, the accomplished gentleman, twenty-two years of age. Does he speak the modern languages? Not at all. He has dabbled a little in German, but nothing to any purpose. Of course he is a profound Latinist? So far from this, there is not a single Latin or Greek Author whom he can read and appreciate in the original. Notwithstanding all his scholarship, nothwithstanding his having plodded through Sallust, Virgil, Livy,

Horace, Tacitus, if he wants to refer to a passage in any of these authors, he uses a translation, if he can get it. Of all knowledge of English Literature he is as innocent as the veriest Hottentot. He has heard of Shakespeare, perhaps owns a copy, but never dreamed of the hidden meaning of the great poet, never, in short, really read a single line, though he may have droned over hundreds. But the great excellence of such scholarship as this consists not in anything tangible, but in the discipline he has acquired. He has spent four years amongst books, he has passed from a boy into a man, and when he inquires for the fruit of his labor, he is informed that he perhaps cannot quite comprehend it, but it is discipline. It may be that discipline is invaluable, but sometimes in an hour of despondency, one cannot help remembering that Philip Melancthon at twenty, was the most accomplished Grecian in the University, that Calvin at twenty-two, was writing learned criticisms on the books of the Old and New Testament, or, if it is urged that all are not Calvins or Melancthons, that the school-girl of to-day can speak some of the modern languages at least.

Another glorious feature of our Civilization is the perfection of its social rules. We have no aristocracy but an aristocracy of intellect and worth. That is the grand characteristic feature of American Society. Hence it is so disgusting to an American, to witness the airs of the nobility across the water, where mere money and birth are the passports. To one acccstomed to the grand soirees of New York, to the manly figures—the intellectual countenances-the extremely refined conversation, the beauty of social life in America appears in its most manifest form. There is Mrs. Goodasthebest— oh, the extreme complacency of that lady's disposition-the unruffled piety of her life- not a thought that could be considered as tinctured in the slightest with the carnal-and such elevated views-such liberal accomplishments. She is not a fashionable lady in the vulgar sense of the term, far from it. The vanities of dress have no allurements for her she trusts that she shall occupy the position of a christian matron with becoming dignity. Oh it is touching to see this bundle of chastened virtues, wrapped up in costly furs, rolling to church in a carriage worth a fortune, conning the morning lesson in a book, the gold clasps of which would have sent a dozen bibles to her much lamented heathen.

In the foregoing sketches, we do not pretend to recognize the best samples of American growth, either in Law, Theology, or any

other department. Neither is it pretended that even with our helter skelter education there are not many names, of statesmen, of divines, of scholars, dignified by every noble quality of mind and heart, which are shedding a glorious lustre on the institutions which reared them. But in spite of all this, it must be admitted that there is a woful lack somewhere; we have little occasion to feel that immense respect for ourselves, which should induce us to take off our hats every time we speak of our institutions, and perhaps after all our boasted progress, we are not so far in advance of the simple savages who inhabited where we now do, when Columbus first set foot upon our shores.

A. H. W.

An English Hoat Race.

S. R. CAL THROP.

You want to see a Cambridge boat race, do you, my American friend? Well, then, come and lunch at my rooms in old Trinity, and then we will set off.

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Here, this is the great gateway, it opens upon the great quadrangle, the crowning boast of a Trinity man. One hundred yards square, Sir, if it is an inch. There, don't step on the grass, it's contrary to law. Now come mount the Hall steps, and just peep in at the grand old Hall, with its lofty, dark old oak ceilings, and its grim portraits of old worthies frowning down. It is silent enough now, but five hundred men will sit down to dinner in it in a couple of hours, all in gowns. Blue is the color of the Trinity gown as you may have noticed. By the way, now we're upon the subject I may tell you an infallible test by which you may tell a fast man when you see him: A fast man has always the worst college cap and the best hat, the loudest waistcoat and the most tattered gown. If you see a gown that is just about used up, and ready to fall to pieces, you may be sure that that is upon a fast man. Well, we must hurry. Down these steps, this is the Nevilles Court, the great Library, built by Sir Christopher Wren, at the further end. This is the Fellows Court. A picture of a place is it not. To-night I will take you up to B's rooms, and show you the oak panelled Fellows' rooms. I

about to-day. know how long.

hate to hurry you away now, but the fact is that the men are beginning to go now to the river. This is the New Court up this staircase. There, cram a biscuit into your mouth and come on. Out of that gate is the great Avenue, in the Trinity grounds, the glory thereof. But we have no time to waste. See, every one is moving in the same direction. There is a good deal of excitement felt First Trinity has been head of the river for I don't The "Caius" boat has gained place after place, and is now second. They are confident that they shall bump First Trinity, and as this is the last race of the term, they are of course doubly anxious. Sidney, a gallant crew of a very small college, is third; a very unusual thing. They have come up fast, and are go. ing to try to bump Caius. They themselves bumped Johns last race, but the Johnian stroke was away, so the Johns feel sure of winning their place back again. Next to Johns comes Third Trinity, the Eton and Westminster men you know; next, Second Trinity, &c. &c.

Now we're in the stream; 4000 people will be upon the tow path to-day. Now for some statistics. There are about 25 eight oars which will take part in the race to-day; that is about 200 men. There are also about a dozen "torpids," who are not on the river, making 100 more, besides innumerable eights, fours, pairs, and sculls who do not race at all. Add these together and it will give you some idea of the importance of the Boats to a Cambridge man : you will see enough as we go along to illustrate this. Now keep your eyes about you. That big man on a big horse is Whewell, the Master of Trinity; he will ride along by the boats all the way along the tow path. That tall old gentleman conversing very earnestly with that pretty young lady on the other side of the river, is Sedgewick, the Geologist, you know. Now you see, there are a lot of the Johnian boating men coming up on the tow path to see the race. They have all red jackets, you see; that's their uniform. Those in green are the Queen's men; those in dark blue First Trinity, and so on. Here are all the colors of the Rainbow. Doesn't the tow path look like a masquerade? These men will now run along the tow path, and deafen you with cries of encouragement to their respective crews. We will run close by the first boats, You see we could touch them all the way along, with a pole as long as a fishing rod. Now we pass Ditton Church, now Grassey CorHere are the fatal places for bumps. Here come up the

ner.

Crews one by one. That's Sidney, two pale blue jerseys in it. Those are two University oars. No one is allowed to wear jerseys of that color except the men who are in the University eight. I know men who would give a thousand pounds to be able to wear one. Here First Trinity with two pale blue jackets, also, among the crew. Caius has one, John's one, third Trinity one; all marked by the color of the jersey. Now just look at that boat, the First Trinity boat, the one painted black. That boat is pretty near seventy feet long, and not more than two feet broad, and as light as a feather. They are pulling an easy stroke just up to the starting place, but see how they all move together, see what an amount of power and pluck is afloat in that narrow boat; each man in each crew is determined to pull to the last; will pull while he can lift his head up. Surely a training like this is worth something, letting alone the long course of self-denial that has brought them up to such a pitch of training. There's the first gun, however; come along. Now you see the whole way in which we race. In this narrow

stream no two boats can row abreast, and so each boat is moored about sixty yards apart, one behind the other, in regular order, and each one tries to bump the boat ahead of him. When they have done this, both winner and loser draw off to the side and let the other boats pass. There's the second gun. Now each crew takes its station, in the middle of the river, each coxswain holding on by a rope to his stake. which he lets go at the third gun, and then off. Now look out for the rush. Make ready, present, fire. Now they are off, on the instant. "Go it First Trinity, now your gaining." "Well pulled Sidney."

66

Now stop your ears. "Now for it Caius."

All four first boats well together, no one

"Now you have it Johns." gains, now round the corner. Don't get out of breath, and don't lag behind. The crowd will run over you if you don't mind. Why don't get wild, my American friend, aud don't pitch your shiny new hat into the river. "Go it Caius,' "Look out, First Trinity, now then for it." Caius comes up. gaining inch by inch; I declare, that's Sidney close upon Caius, Johns behind, and Third Trinity upon them. Keep with the first three. "Now, Frist Trinity." "Now you'll do it Caius ;" "Well pulled Sidney." Heavens! Caius is not half a length behind First Trinity, Sidney close upon Caius; never mind your hat, it is gone for ever, "Did you ever see excitement like this my boy." Now Caius overlaps First Trinity, go it, First; now Sidney overlaps Caius. Will Caius bump or be bumped?