llent
way." This hard greed, and the exclusive pursuit of gain, with the
indifference to all which does not aid in its acquisition, are eating
up family love and life throughout the West. I write this reluctantly,
and after a total experience of nearly two years in the United States.
They seem to have no "Sunday clothes," and few of any kind. The sewing
machine, like most other things, is out of order. One comb serves the
whole family. Mrs. C. is cleanly in her person and dress, and the
food, though poor, is clean. Work, work, work, is their day and their
life. They are thoroughly ungenial, and have that air of suspicion in
speaking of every one which is not unusual in the land of their
ancestors. Thomas Chalmers is the man's ecclesiastical hero, in spite
of his own severe Puritanism. Their live stock consists of two
wretched horses, a fairly good bronco mare, a mule, four badly-bred
cows, four gaunt and famished-looking oxen, some swine of singularly
active habits, and plenty of poultry. The old saddles are tied on with
twine; one side of the bridle is a worn-out strap and the other a rope.
They wear boots, but never two of one pair, and never blacked, of
course, but no stockings. They think it quite effeminate to sleep
under a roof, except during the severest months of the year. There is
a married daughter across the river, just the same hard, loveless,
moral, hard-working being as her mother. Each morning, soon after
seven, when I have swept the cabin, the family come in for "worship."
Chalmers "wales" a psalm, in every sense of the word wail, to the most
doleful of dismal tunes; they read a chapter round, and he prays. If
his prayer has something of the tone of the imprecatory psalms, he has
high authority in his favor; and if there be a tinge of the Pharisaic
thanksgiving, it is hardly surprising that he is grateful that he is
not as other men are when he contemplates the general godlessness of
the region.

Sunday was a dreadful day. The family kept the Commandment literally,
and did no work. Worship was conducted twice, and was rather longer
than usual. Chalmers does not allow of any books in his house but
theological works, and two or three volumes of dull travels, so the
mother and children slept nearly all day. The man attempted to read a
well-worn copy of Boston's Fourfold State, but shortly fell asleep, and
they only woke up for their meals. Friday and Saturday had been
passably cool, wit