compassed by the great objects of nature, you recognise nature's God
every where; you feel his presence, and rely on his protection. Every
thing in a city is artificial, the predominant idea is man; and man,
under circumstances like the present, is neither your friend nor
protector. You form no part of the social system here. Gregarious by
nature, you cannot associate; dependent, you cannot attach yourself; a
rational being, you cannot interchange ideas. In seeking the wilderness
you enter the abode of solitude, and are naturally and voluntarily
alone. On visiting a city, on the contrary, you enter the residence of
man, and if you are forced into isolation there, to you it is worse than
a desert.

"I know of nothing so depressing as this feeling of unconnected
individuality, amidst a dense population like this. But, my friend,
there is One who never forsakes us either in the throng or the
wilderness, whose ear is always open to our petitions, and who has
invited us to rely on his goodness and mercy."

"You hadn't ought to feel lonely here, Minister," said Mr. Slick. "It's
a place we have a right to boast of is Liverpool; we built it, and I'll
tell you what it is, to build two such cities as New York and Liverpool
in the short time we did, is sunthin' to brag of. If there had been no
New York, there would have been no Liverpool; but if there had been no
Liverpool, there would have been a New York though. They couldn't do
nothin' without us. We had to build them elegant line-packets for 'em;
they couldn't build one that could sail, and if she sail'd she couldn't
steer, and if she sail'd and steer'd, she upsot; there was always a
screw loose somewhere.

"It cost us a great deal too to build them ere great docks. They cover
about seventy acres, I reckon. We have to pay heavy port dues to keep
'em up, and pay interest on capital. The worst of it is, too, while we
pay for all this, we hante got the direction of the works."

"If you have paid for all these things," said I, "you had better
lay claim to Liverpool. Like the disputed territory (to which it now
appears, you knew you had no legal or equitable claim), it is probable
you will have half of it ceded to you, for the purpose of conciliation.
I admire this boast of yours uncommonly. It reminds me of the
conversation we had some years ago, about the device on your "naval
button," of the eagle holding an anchor in its claws--that national
emblem of ill-directed ambition