e to be found in New York
who speak French.
I think the limited powers of the language, and the rigid laws to which
it has been subjected, contribute to render the French less acquainted
with foreign nations than they would otherwise be. In all their
translations there is an effort to render the word, however peculiar may
be its meaning, into the French tongue. Thus, "township" and "city," met
with in an American book, would probably be rendered by "_canton_" or
"_commune_" or "_ville_;" neither of which conveys an accurate idea of
the thing intended. In an English or American book we should introduce
the French word at once, which would induce the reader to inquire into
the differences that exist between the minor territorial divisions, of
his own country, and those of the country of which he is reading. In
this manner is the door open for further information, until both writers
and readers come to find it easier and more agreeable to borrow words
from others, than to curtail their ideas by their national vocabularies.
The French, however, are beginning to feel their poverty in this
respect, and some are already bold enough to resort to the natural cure.
The habit of thinking of other nations through their own customs,
betrays the people of this country into many ridiculous mistakes. One
hears here the queerest questions imaginable every day; all of which,
veiled by the good breeding and delicacy that characterize the nation,
betray an innocent sense of superiority that may be smiled at, and which
creates no feeling of resentment. A _savant_ lately named to me the
coasting tonnage of France, evidently with the expectation of exciting
my admiration; and on my receiving the information coolly, he inquired,
with a little sarcasm of manner--"Without doubt, you have some coasting
tonnage also in America?" "The coasting tonnage of the United Slates,
Monsieur, is greater than the entire tonnage of France." The man looked
astonished, and I was covered with questions as to the nature of the
trade that required so much shipping among a population numerically so
small. It could not possibly be the consumption of a country--he did not
say it, but he evidently thought it--so insignificant and poor? I told
him, that bread, wine, and every other article of the first necessity
excepted, the other consumption of America, especially in luxuries, did
not fall so much short of that of France as he imagined, owing to the
great abundance
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