rican. I believe I may truly say that the better health which
you have so cordially wished me will be in a measure furthered by the
wish; since all pleasurable emotion is conducive to health, and as you
will fully believe, the remembrance of this evening will ever continue
to be a source of pleasurable emotion exceeded by few if any of my
remembrances.

And now that I have thanked you sincerely though too briefly, I am going
to find fault with you. Already in some remarks drawn from me respecting
American affairs and American character, I have passed criticisms which
have been accepted far more good-naturedly than I could reasonably have
expected; and it seems strange that I should now again propose to
transgress. However, the fault I have to comment upon is one which most
will scarcely regard as a fault. It seems to me that in one respect
Americans have diverged too widely from savages. I do not mean to say
that they are in general unduly civilized. Throughout large parts of the
population even in long-settled regions there is no excess of those
virtues needed for the maintenance of social harmony. Especially out in
the West men's dealings do not yet betray too much of the "sweetness and
light" which we are told distinguish the cultured man from the
barbarian; nevertheless there is a sense in which my assertion is true.

You know that the primitive man lacks power of application. Spurred by
hunger, by danger or revenge he can exert himself energetically for a
time, but his energy is spasmodic. Monotonous daily toil is impossible
to him. It is otherwise with the more developed man. The stern
discipline of social life has gradually increased the aptitude for
persistent industry; until among us, and still more among you, work has
become with many a passion. This contrast of nature is another aspect.
The savage thinks only of present satisfactions and leaves future
satisfactions uncared for. Contrariwise the American, eagerly pursuing a
future good almost ignores what good the passing day offers him; and
when the future good is gained, he neglects that while striving for some
still remoter good.

What I have seen and heard during my stay among you has forced on me the
belief that this slow change from habitual inertness to persistent
activity has reached an extreme from which there must begin a
counter-change--a reaction. Everywhere I have been struck with the
number of faces which told in strong lines of the burdens tha