tleman to
me, "you will see plants, such as rhododendrons, magnolias, and hundreds
of others, such as they have no conception of in your own country."

One of Jim Crow's verses in America is a fair copy from us--

"Englishman he beat
Two French or Portugee;
Yankee-doodle come down,
Whip them all three."

But an excellent specimen of the effect of American education was given
the other day in this country, by an American lad of fourteen or fifteen
years old. He was at a dinner party, and after dinner the conversation
turned upon the merits of the Duke of Wellington. After hearing the
just encomiums for some time with fidgetty impatience, the lad rose from
his chair, "You talk about your Duke of Wellington, what do you say to
Washington; do you pretend to compare Wellington to Washington? Now,
I'll just tell you, if Washington could be standing here now, and the
Duke of Wellington was only to look him in the face, why, Sir,
Wellington would drop down dead in an instant." This I was told by the
gentleman at whose table it occurred.

Even when they can use their eyes, they will not. I overheard a
conversation on the deck of a steam-boat between a man who had just
arrived from England and another. "Have they much trade at Liverpool?"
inquired the latter. "Yes, they've some." "And at London?" "Not much
there, I reckon. New York, Sir, is the emporium of the whole world."

This national vanity is fed in every possible way. At one of the
museums, I asked the subject of a picture representing a naval
engagement; the man (supposing I was an American, I presume) replied,
"That ship there," pointing to one twice as big as the other, "is the
Macedonian English frigate, and that other frigate," pointing to the
small one, "is the Constitution American frigate, which captured her in
less than five minutes." Indeed, so great has this feeling become from
indulgence, that they will not allow anything to stand in its way, and
will sacrifice anybody or anything to support it. It was not until I
arrived in the United States that I was informed by several people that
Captain Lawrence, who commanded the Chesapeake, was drunk when he went
into action. Speaking of the action, one man shook his head, and said,
"Pity poor Lawrence had his failing; he was otherwise a good officer."
I was often told the same thing, and a greater libel was never uttered;
but thus was a gallant officer's character sacrificed to sooth the
na