tory. But they will be such as belong to the past civilization of the old world, while we shall have lost that characteristic which so strikingly distinguishes our own civilization from all that have yet existed-a civilization antichivalric, antimonarchical indeed, but which has for its great ends whatever is useful and true-a civilization whose annals record the triumphs of peace, not those of war and conquest; and which honors even Washington more for his wisdom as a statesman, than for his prowess in the field-a civilization to which even Napoleon himself, in the height of his power, paid homage, not less than to the brightest name it has produced, when he said "the fame of Washington would be immortal among all men, and constantly brighten, while his own would vanish away and be forgotten." Did he, with the presentiment by which minds of the highest order read the future, perceive that he was to be the last of the great heroes of the old civilization ? These considerations lead us back instinctively to study the institutions of our fathers, and especially their conservative elements. Dangerous opinions and prejudices prevail, but we believe they may be counteracted by a timely opposition. The memory of the New England fathers will be cherished forever by such as choose to dwell by their graves, and are trained after their models. The moral and intellectual power of New England will still remain unimpaired, and by these means she can still sustain with a strong arm the institutions she had the honor first to establish. She can also set forth their true nature and history, so as to attract the notice of all beyond her borders who would search for the light, and so as to compel the attention of all who would - willingly shun it. To this end measures should be taken to cultivate a strong New England sympathy in the hearts of all her sons. We do not wish a spirit of exclusiveness or sectional jealousy should be cherished. There is nothing more liberal than genuine New England patriotism, while it is not inconsistent with the strongest local attachments. This feeling can be promoted espe cially by the pastors of those churches who are the representatives of the religious faith of our ancestors. It is a mistaken idea to suppose that Puritanism was ever antisocial in. its tendencies. The Puritan pastor will deem it his first official duty to instruct his flock in the way to heaven; but he is not a monk or an anchorite. In his private rela tions he is a citizen, and is entitled to all the sympathies of his fellow citizens. In his public capacity he may not mingle in the petty conflicts of politicians, or contend for the honors or spoils of office. In all that relates to the permanent interests and moral improvement of his people, he has a deep concern, and is invested with a solemn responsi bility. He may address the public conscience, and defend the public morals. He may rebuke wickedness in places of power, and denounce every species of oppression. A religion that does not require all this at the hands of its ministers, is not worth the having. Especially is he, by virtue of his office, made the repository of the "traditions" of the New England "church," and these he should on all proper occasions and "festivals" faithfully portray. The anniversary of the landing of the Pilgrims, or the sabbath near est to it, might be observed as one of those festival occasions. The event which it commemorates, in its relation to the American church and civil polity, is analogous to that which led to the observance of the passover among the Hebrews; and to every true son of New England it would seem that the occasion would recur with equal interest. At Plymouth, the 22d of December has long been known by the endear- They have lingered round There where their ashes rest." Why should not this day be generally observed as a New England festival? In the "sunny season" we celebrate the anniversary of our national independence with civic processions and rejoicings, and we do well. The idea of the most eloquent defender of the Declaration, on the floor of the continental congress," should be carried out till the end of time. But when the 66 midnight of the year" has come, "The bay where the Mayflower lay," why should not the New England pastor commemorate an event which awakens associations equally patriotic, and far more rich and dear to the friends of the faith he loves? The voices of the dead would then be once more heard among the liv ing, disarming a thousand prejudices, and disclosing to all, even the most prejudiced and illiberal, the truth and the whole truth as to their labors, their patience, and their hopes. They would tell us of our present duties, and while they would reveal to us their own bright visions of the final triumphs of our Christian civilization, which they saw two centuries ago, they would censure with the severest rebuke, those of their recreant sons, who dwelling on intermediate ground, between the sufferings of the distant past and the glories of the distant future, are alike indifferent to the patience and the faith of their fathers. MANNERS AND SOCIETY. udy of was natural and right they should have. Fortunes were gradually accumulated, and education had time to keep pace with the increase of luxury; so that wealth, and cultivation, and refinement, were generally found associated; and the latter were considered not only as indispensable to the former, but as raising their possessors to an equality, even to a superiority, when they were found disconnected. PERHAPS there has never been a had influence, but not more than it time since our ancestors came to this country, when a sound national prosperity, and a healthful national character, were in so fair a way of progress, as during the few years immediately after the present century had left its teens. At that pe riod, it seemed to be a pretty general opinion that respectability depended in some small degree upon personal qualities. Talents, information, moral uprightness, and freedom from awkwardness and affectation, were qualifications for good society, indeed, the best society. Wealth had influence, birth But the great flood of what was called commercial prosperity, proved, in its results, highly unfavorable to this mode of estimating the merits of individuals. On this flood, multitudes who had no claim to the above mentioned qualifications found themselves lifted from their original obscurity, and carried upward and onward, until, to their surprise and delight, they were wafted to the very doors of sumptuous dwellings, on which they found their own names inscribed, and which they were exhorted to enter and enjoy. They did so, and for a while the gratification of the senses in their new situation, was sufficient for their happiness. The imperial carpets were soft to the tread; the damask sofas yielded delightfully to the pressure of the form; the rich and gorgeous hues of silk and velvet furniture were marvelously pleasant to the eye. It was pleasant, too, to fare sumptuously every day, and to ride in gilded carriages, drawn by sleek and well-fed horses. It was pleasant to dress in the richest products of the East; and for less than the rubbing of a lamp, to find a shower of gems and pearls upon the toilet. This was all very natural; and it was natural that a feeling of pride, and complacency, and self-importance, should grow out of the possession of these things. Had the rise been more gradual, or, instead of being extended to whole classes, had it been confined to here and there an individual, the general face of society would have remained unchanged. The "new" people, finding that a certain degree of cultivation and refinement was necessary to their being well received in society, and to their feeling as comfortable abroad as they did at home, would have hastened to acquire it, and things would have held their natural, relative position. But it was irksome to learn by slow degrees, and painful to submit to a feeling of inferiority. They had obtained that which all respected and wished for; why not dispense with other things, and make this the The five senses only test of superiority? Numbers found themselves in the same predicament; they had pressed forward into the van of society, they kept each other in countenance, and they carried the day. A philosophy lit erally and strictly material came to pervade society. Things were turned topsy-turvy. enjoyed a distinction which it was never intended they should have; and the head and the heart, that which was merely mentally and morally good and beautiful, were degraded from their proper place in general estimation, and cast quite into the shade. Wealth and its appliances came to be considered the only rational pursuit, the only means of happiness, and indeed, the only proper test of worth and importance. Society flourished; all was apparently good humor and complacency. The leaders of ton never doubted that what they did was and must be right. Had they not seen how things were done in Birmingham and Manchester? And supposing they varied a little from these standards, were they not rich, and had they not a right to do so? Thus the gales of prosperity continued to blow, as did the strong east winds, and the latter were almost synonymous with the former, for they drove along the ships that bore the elements, the very foundations of their happiness and importance. But, alas! who can tell what a ship may bring? Among cases of Italian silks, and boxes of French laces, and hampers of Spanish wines, and droves of English traders, all of which were gladly welcomed to our shores, came an article of quite another description, an English traveler; and he was most gladly welcomed of all; for would he not see the glory and the splendor which reigned among us? And would he not publish it in a book, and would not distant nations read, and wonder, and admire? And should we not become a patttern for them, the very mirror in which they should all dress themselves? life in the shape of a finger-glass or a clean napkin, to cover and relieve the nauseous and incongruous mixture. Then men began to look women's hearts failed them for fear. They gazed around them with bewildered and distrustful eyes. Of what avail were all the glittering and gorgeous things by which they were surrounded, when instead of one Mordecai they beheld half a dozen? The bookmaker's speculation proved fortunate, and he was succeeded by others; and woman, gentle wo-strangely in each other's faces, and man, followed in the train, and opened wide her eyes and ears, and plied her pen, and the press groaned with the products of their teeming brains. But, alas! for the expectations of their feasters and entertainers, who looked for the dulcet notes of praise, the fragrant incense of adulation. Instead of these, came strains of most discordant music. Captain Hall thundered and growled in deep and monotonous tones of grave disapprobation. Major Hamilton struck in with a tenor in the same key, but with different time and expression; now gay and frolicksome, now satirical and jeering, and, anon, blustering in a tornado of wrath and indignation. Higher, louder, shriller, and in a different key, followed Miss Martineau, in a resolute and overpowering alto. But harsher, more discordant than all the rest, and sounding like the mirth of midnight witches in their horrid glee, came the loud, fearless laugh of Mrs. Trollope, causing strange misgivings in many a hitherto complacent and self-satisfied breast, and making some such accompaniment to the trio, as would a Chinese gong to a trombone, a Kent bugle and a flagelet. This concert was thought råre music by the English, and apparently by the performers themselves, who carried it on con amore. Not so the Americans, who, instead of the diamonds, and pearls, and roses, which they had looked for, when these travelers should open their mouths to speak or to sing, saw a strange and disgusting compound of tobacco-spittle, muddled eggs, steel forks, military titles, political quacks, drunken ladies, forward girls, and premature old women; awkwardness, ignorance, and prejudice, with not a single grace or courtesy of A loud and simultaneous cry of anger, and denial, and defiance, burst forth, but it was affectation, not genuine courage and self-reliance; these would not have shouted so loud. And when the shouting was over, and men were red in the face and hoarse in the throat, what did they do? Did they go quietly on in their old way; or did they look about them to see if haply there might not be some among themselves who had been overlooked, but who yet were worthy of imita tion in the science of manners? Did they ever think of recurring to first principles, and adapting them to their own condition, strive to improve their manners by the assiduous cultivation and improvement of their minds? No; this would not do. They had been horrified at the idea of eating their soup and drinking their wine in a different manner from the fashionables in Square. The ghosts of egg-shells, whose contents had been scooped into a glass or cup, appeared in long array before their eyes, and spoiled their breakfasts; and who could tell if at every meal they did not sin against some rule of polished society, equally important with that which decrees that an egg must be eaten directly from the shell? So, many packed their trunks and set off bag and baggage for England or France, to learn exactly how things were managed there. Foreign waiters were at a premium, and became the instructors of fam ilies. Foreigners were anxiously observed and imitated, and books of etiquette began to be written and studied. In the course of four years no less than eleven grave, didactic, works, were issued from the American press, the sole object of which works was to give rules for behavior in society. Several of these books went rapidly through many editions. 'In consequence of all this, a new principle was gradually introduced. Matter lost something of its importance; mode became also a touchstone of gentility. Wealth alone no longer gave the very highest claim to distinction; it was a knowledge of conventional usages-not such usages as might have grown out of the habits of a refined and intellectual class among ourselves, but such as belonged to the fashionists abroad. But the passion for wealth was by no means confined to the merchant, the speculator, the mechanic, those whose occupations might have led them to an undue value of the objects of their traffick or their toil; the physician, the lawyer, the judge, the author, the divine, were found willing to sacrifice the superiority which has generally been conceded to them as the consequence of their more intellectual pursuits, to abdicate their high position, and to place themselves in the ranks of those who were running the race of mammon. The idea of good came to be generally limited to the external advantages of life; to the possession of fine furniture, houses and carriages, to the name of fashion, and the reputation of a miscalled superior breeding. The poetry of life was almost lost. "The still, sad music of humanity," was drowned in the din and bustle of sensual pursuits; and those who would have withdrawn at times from the ignoble strife and turmoil, were generally doomed to find themselves alone, without the sympathy which cheers, and soothes, and sustains, and which is frequently the most necessary to the purest minds; till, at length, they became disgusted with society, or, yielding by degrees. to the current that swept around them, their high aspirations were lost, and they followed, albeit with many regrets and self-upbraidings, the common and universal impulse. As wealth continued to flow in, the general mind seemed more and more to turn itself outwards, and to live in externals; and as people be came familiarized to the idea of splendor, the mania of fashion seemed also to increase. But there were other causes beside the facility with which fortunes were acquired, and the sneers and jeers of English travelers, which tended to throw the general mind off its balance, and to lead to an undue estimate of wealth, to an extreme anxiety concerning manners, and to erroneous principles in their cultivation. Literature, especially light literature, though its character may generally receive a bias from the spirit of the age, reacts with tenfold force upon it, strengthening particular tendencies, and directing the various modes of thinking and feeling into one general current. Never was this fact more apparent, than at the period of which we speak. The moralists seemed all at once turned into political economists. The class of minds that were formerly devoted to the culture of our spiritual and intellectual nature, were now teaching us how to make the greatest show upon the smallest means. Instead of inciting us to burnish our minds till they were bright as the gold of Ophir, they were now instructing us how to polish our mahogany tables and Egyptian marble slabs, in such manner as to produce the most brilliant effect. Instead of being stimulated to preserve purity and transparency of character, we had receipts for clarifying jellies and ta |