oceed to other
and more pleasing topics.

A NUT FOR "TOURISTS."

Among the many incongruities of that composite piece of architecture,
called John Bull, there is nothing more striking than the contrast
between his thorough nationality and his unbounded admiration for
foreigners. Now, although we may not entirely sympathize with, we can
understand and appreciate this feature of his character, and see how
he gratifies his very pride itself, in the attentions and civilities
he bestows upon strangers. The feeling is intelligible too, because
Frenchmen, Germans, and even Italians, notwithstanding the many points
of disparity between us, have always certain qualities well worthy of
respect, if not of imitation. France has a great literature, a name
glorious in history, a people abounding in intelligence, skill, and
invention; in fact, all the attributes that make up a great nation.
Germany has many of these, and though she lack the brilliant fancy,
the sparkling wit of her neighbour, has still a compensating fund in
the rich resources of her judgment, and the profound depths of her
scholarship. Indeed, every continental country has its lesson for our
benefit, and we would do well to cultivate the acquaintance of
strangers, not only to disseminate more just views of ourselves and
our institutions, but also for the adoption of such customs as seem
worthy of imitation, and such habits as may suit our condition in
life; while such is the case as regards those countries high in the
scale of civilisation, we would, by no means, extend the rule to
others less happily constituted, less benignly gifted. The Carinthian
boor with his garment of sheep-wool, or the Laplander with his snow
shoes and his hood of deerskin, may be both very natural objects of
curiosity, but by no means subjects of imitation. This point will
doubtless be conceded at once; and now, will any one tell me for what
cause, under what pretence, and with what pretext are we civil to the
Yankees?--not for their politeness, not for their literature, not for
any fascination of their manner, nor any charm of their address, not
for any historic association, not for any halo that the glorious past
has thrown around the common-place monotony of the present, still less
for any romantic curiosity as to their lives and habits--for in this
respect all other savage nations far surpass them. What then is, or
what can be the cause?

Of all the lions that caprice and the