dustry.
But looking to the papers that are published in the towns, one man of
letters is a luxury about an American print. There are a few instances
in which there are two, or three; but, generally, the subordinates are
little more than scissors-men. Now, it must be apparent, at a glance,
that no one individual can keep up the character of a daily print, of
any magnitude; the drain on his knowledge and other resources being too
great. This, I take it, is the simple reason why the press of America
ranks no higher than it does. The business is too much divided; too much
is required, and this, too, in a country where matters of grave import
are of rare occurrence, and in which the chief interests are centred in
the vulgar concerns of mere party politics, with little or no connexion
with great measures, or great principles. You have only to fancy the
superior importance that attaches to the views of powerful monarchs, the
secret intrigues of courts, on whose results, perhaps, depend the
fortunes of Christendom, and the serious and radical principles that are
dependent on the great changes of systems that are silently working
their way, in this part of the world, and which involve material
alterations in the very structure of society, to get an idea of how much
more interest a European journal, _ceteris paribus_, must be, compared
to an American journal, by the nature of its facts alone. It is true
that we get a portion of these facts, as light finally arrives from the
remoter stars, but mutilated, and necessarily shorn of much of their
interest, by their want of importance to our own country. I had been in
Europe some time, before I could fully comprehend the reason why I was
ignorant of so many minor points of its political history, for, from
boyhood up, I had been an attentive reader of all that touched this part
of the world, as it appeared in our prints. By dint of inquiry, however,
I believe I have come at the fact. The winds are by no means as regular
as the daily prints; and it frequently happens, especially in the winter
and spring months, that five or six packets arrive nearly together,
bringing with them the condensed intelligence of as many weeks. Now,
newspaper finders notoriously seek the latest news, and in the hurry and
confusion of reading and selecting, and bringing out, to meet the wants
of the day, many of the connecting links are lost, readers get imperfect
notions of men and things, and, from a want of a