surprised at discovering how
little of any thing remains a dozen years," returned John Effingham.
"Our towns pass away in generations like their people, and even the
names of a place undergo periodical mutations, as well as every thing
else. It is getting to be a predominant feeling in the American
nature, I fear, to love change."

"But, cousin Jack, do you not overlook causes, in your censure. That
a nation advancing as fast as this in wealth and numbers, should
desire better structures than its fathers had either the means or the
taste to build, and that names should change with persons, are both
things quite in rule."

"All very true, though it does not account for the peculiarity I
mean. Take Templeton, for instance; this little place has not
essentially increased in numbers, within my memory, and yet fully
one-half its names are new. When he reaches his own home, your father
will not know even the names of one-half his neighbours. Not only
will he meet with new faces, but he will find new feelings, new
opinions in the place of traditions that he may love, an indifference
to every thing but the present moment, and even those who may have
better feelings, and a wish to cherish all that belongs to the holier
sentiments of man, afraid to utter them, lest they meet with no
sympathy."

"No cats, as Mr. Bragg would say."

"Jack is one who never paints _en beau_," said Mr. Effingham. "I
should be very sorry to believe that a dozen short years can have
made all these essential changes in my neighbourhood."

"A dozen years, Ned! You name an age. Speak of three or four, if you
wish to find any thing in America where you left it! The whole
country is in such a constant state of mutation, that I can only
liken it to that game of children, in which as one quits his corner,
another runs into it, and he that finds no corner to get into, is the
laughing-stock of the others. Fancy that dwelling the residence of
one man from childhood to old age; let him then quit it for a year or
two, and on his return he would find another in possession, who would
treat him as an impertinent intruder, because he had been absent two
years. An American 'always,' in the way of usages, extends no further
back than eighteen months. In short, every thing is condensed into
the present moment; and services, character, for evil as well as good
unhappily, and all other things, cease to have weight, except as they
influence the interests of the day."