armed with power, it is tolerant in practice. I love its
constitution, because it combines the stability of a monarchy, with the
most valuable peculiarities of a republic, and without violating nature
by attempting to make men equal, wisely follow its dictates, by securing
freedom to all.

I like the people, though not all in the same degree. They are not what
they were. Dissent, reform and agitation have altered their character.
It is necessary to distinguish. A _real_ Englishman is generous, loyal
and brave, manly in his conduct and gentlemanly in his feeling. When I
meet such a man as this, I cannot but respect him; but when I find that
in addition to these good qualities, he has the further recommendation
of being a churchman in his religion and a tory in his politics, I know
then that his heart is in the right place, and I love him.

The drafts of these chapters were read to Mr. Slick, at his particular
request, that he might be assured they contained nothing that would
injure his election as President of the United States, in the event of
the Slickville ticket becoming hereafter the favourite one. This, he
said, was on the cards, strange as it might seem, for making a fool of
John Bull and turning the laugh on him, would be sure to take and be
popular. The last paragraphs, he said, he affectioned and approbated
with all his heart.

"It is rather tall talkin' that," said he; "I like its patronisin' tone.
There is sunthin' goodish in a colonist patronisin' a Britisher. It's
turnin' the tables on 'em; it's sarvin' 'em out in their own way. Lord,
I think I see old Bull put his eye-glass up and look at you, with a dead
aim, and hear him say, 'Come, this is cuttin' it rather fat.' Or, as
the feller said to his second wife, when she tapped him on the shoulder,
'Marm, my first wife was a _Pursy_, and she never presumed to take that
liberty.' Yes, that's good, Squire. Go it, my shirt-tails! you'll win if
you get in fust, see if you don't. Patronizin' a Britisher!!! A critter
that has Lucifer's pride, Arkwright's wealth, and Bedlam's sense, ain't
it rich? Oh, wake snakes and walk your chalks, will you! Give me your
figgery-four Squire, I'll go in up to the handle for you. Hit or miss,
rough or tumble, claw or mud-scraper, any way, you damn please, I'm your
man."

But to return to my narrative. I was under the necessity of devoting the
day next after our landing at Liverpool, to writing letters announcing
my safe arriva