ng that
the labouring man, if he is diligent and industrious, may soon become
his equal in point of worldly possessions. The ignorant man, let him be
ever so wealthy, can never be equal to the man of education. It is the
mind that forms the distinction between the classes in this country--
"Knowledge is power!"

We had heard so much of the odious manners of the Yankees in this
country that I was rather agreeably surprised by the few specimens of
native Americans that I have seen. They were for the most part, polite,
well-behaved people. The only peculiarities I observed in them were a
certain nasal twang in speaking, and some few odd phrases; but these
were only used by the lower class, who "_guess_" and "_calculate_" a
little more than we do. One of their most remarkable terms is to
"_Fix_." Whatever work requires to be done it must be _fixed_. "Fix the
room" is, set it in order. "Fix the table"--"Fix the fire," says the
mistress to her servants, and the things are fixed accordingly.

I was amused one day by hearing a woman tell her husband the chimney
wanted fixing. I thought it seemed secure enough, and was a little
surprised when the man got a rope and a few cedar boughs, with which he
dislodged an accumulation of soot that caused the fire to smoke. The
chimney being _fixed_, all went right again. This odd term is not
confined to the lower orders alone, and, from hearing it so often, it
becomes a standard word even among the later emigrants from our own
country.

With the exception of some few remarkable expressions, and an attempt at
introducing fine words in their every-day conversation, the lower order
of Yankees have a decided advantage over our English peasantry in the
use of grammatical language: they speak better English than you will
hear from persons of the same class in any part of England, Ireland, or
Scotland; a fact that we should be unwilling, I suppose, to allow at
home.

If I were asked what appeared to me the most striking feature in the
manners of the Americans that I had met with, I should say it was
coldness approaching to apathy. I do not at all imagine them to be
deficient in feeling or real sensibility, but they do not suffer their
emotion to be seen. They are less profuse in their expressions of
welcome and kindness than we are, though probably quite as sincere. No
one doubts their hospitality; but, after all, one likes to see the
hearty shake of the hand, and hear the cordial word that