there is infinitely more activity of mind, more common sense, more practical ability, among us, than among any people. The public mind is stimulated in these United States to the most extraordinary and unexampled degree. The education received from circumstances, from enterprize, from interest in public affairs, from newspapers, from public responsibility, from the unshackled use of the faculties, in fine, from the general intercourse of man with man as an equal the education which is received here from freedom, the good sense inculcated by our institutions, which lay broad and true ideas at the very bottom of every citizen's mind in his early infancy, and open his soul to truth, come from what quarter it may—this is the education, after all, which is most valuable, and which is here universal, taught in the great public school of national feeling and habit. The artificial or school education of these states is very imperfect, but every day is improving it, and the necessity and demand for it proceeds from the right quarter-from the people themselves. The value of knowledge is here known; those who ask for instruction are always ready pupils. The mind of this people is vastly before their schools. There is thought enough in America to make a great national literature; but as yet we have no true book-makers—no retired students to collect and express it. There is genius enough here to produce great works of art-but it is properly diverted into works of great public utility. Our national roads, our railways, our viaducts, our ships, our institutions are our fine arts-our government is one great architectural structure. Men who, born elsewhere, would have been poets, artists, or scholars, are here workers-politicians, statesmen, public orators. The thought of America expresses itself in action. There is too much to be done, for much to be well said. It is no subject of regret that we have not a national literature or fine arts. Nothing but a diseased action in the public health could possibly have produced them at this time. And if the public mind receive instruction from other sources, the great ends of literature and arts are answered; neither having any value except for what they effect in developing and elevating the mind of the people. The effect of our institutions and condition is to exercise the faculties of our people to an immense extent, and this is all that we should ask, To set people thinking, is the greatest possible service you can render them. To bring mind into activity is education; books being a mere accident, and no essential part of education, and doing for none anything more than the incompletest portion of their development.

But we must draw these remarks to a rapid and forced termination.

The substance of the view we have taken, may be thus briefly comprehended. We need to have an intelligent idea of the real worth of our institutions and of freedom. Freedom is desirable in all things; because freedom of will, of conduct, of thought, of conscience, is the necessary condition of human progress and the great principle of human dignity. A free government is invaluable, because it leaves man as much as possible in his natural state-leaves him as much as possible to himself—to his self-government, self-controul, and selfculture. Our institutions are principally valuable because they let us alonemore to be prized for what they do not do, than for what they do. Our country flourishes and man improves, because, for the first time, humanity has a fair chance to act itself out. Man walks here without shackles, in no pre. scribed path, with no sentinels to stop his progress in any direction, or at any pace he may choose to go. Thus, faith in humanity is at the bottom of our

freedom; and it has been proved that the more free you make man, the nobler and the better he is. The more you cast him upon his own resources-leave him to his conscience-neither support nor cumber his trade, his religion, his literature-but leave them all to struggle for life, the better they thrive. The great distinction and privilege of an American is this, that he is permitted to be a man—a self-sustained, self-regulating, a free mau-the only man—not á subject, a slave, a machine-not in this caste, or that-belonging neither to the second or third estate-neither noble nor gentle, of lords or commonsbut a man-with a human head and a human heart-a God above and a conscience within-amid his fellows and equals to work out his own happiness here and salvation hereafter, as he best can. This is freedom and humanity. God's government and man's government reconciled. Democracy is thus theocracy; and conscience, the vicegerent of God, is placed at the head of our national institutions.

We should end lamely, did we not point directly again to what we have constantly insinuated; that as the restraints of civil government are loosened, the bands of private government are to be tightened-that civil freedom is only safe to those who are in subjection to their own consciences. That nation is freest, after all, which is most in bondage to God. That man is the true freeman, whose will is reconciled to the right-who is not only absolved from the fear of the law, but from the fear of the future and its judgments. A few noble spirits have been free under the greatest outward tyranny, because their minds could not be fettered; and men may be slaves in America-slaves to public opinion, slaves to vice, slaves to fear, to the devil. Those who sin are the servants of sin. A law against murder is no restriction upon a man who has no inclination to kill. But all laws, however light, are slavery to those who are lawless and vicious, and the requisition of God and conscience are the worst slavery of all to those who do not become freemen in Christ Jesus, by learning to love the law, and so render their duty, their inclination, their necessity, their preference. The love of the right and of God is thus the secret of all freedom. It alike frees the slave of the most absolute tyranny, and binds to the rule of safety, the citizen of the laxest freedom. The disciple of Jesus is free everywhere-in Turkey or America, on earth and in heaven. New York.

H. W. B.

JOSH BEANPOLES COURTSHIP.

As pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.

As You Like It.

"MOTHER!" exclaimed Josh Beanpole, "Mother, I say, I feel all over in a twitteration like. Huh! huh! Who'd have thought it?"

"What ails ye, Josh?" asked the old woman, stopping her spinning wheel at this exclamation. "What bug has bit you now?"

"Can't tell," said Josh, in a drooping, dolorous tone, and hanging his head as if he had been caught stealing a sheep.

"Can't tell," said Mrs. Beanpole, turning quite round, and giving Josh a wondering stare. "Can't tell what does the critter mean!"

"Who'd ha' thought it?" repeated Josh, fumbling in his pockets, twisting round his head and rolling up his eyes in a fashion most immensely sheepish. -"Hannah Downer's courted!" Here Josh shuffled himself awkwardly into the settle in the chimney corner, and sunk upon one side, fixing his eyes with a most ludicro-dismal squint upon the lower extremity of a pot-hook that hung at the end of the crane.

"Courted!" exclaimed Mrs. Beanpole, not exactly comprehending the state of her son's intellects. "Well-what's all that when it's fried?”

"Arter so many pails of water as I've pumped for her," said Josh in a dismal whine,—“ for to go for to let herself to be courted by another feller !” "Here's a to-do !" ejaculated the old woman.

"It's tarnation all over!" said qosh, beginning a bolder tone as he found his mother coming to an understanding of the matter. "It makes me crawl all over to think on't. Didn't I wait on her three times to singing school? Hadn't I e'en a most made up my mind to break the ice, and tell her I should n't wonder if I had a sneakin' notion arter somebody's Hannah? I should ha' been reg'lar courting in less than a month,—and Peet Spinbutton has cut me out-as slick as a whistle !"

"Peet Spinbutton!" said the old woman---" Well, I want to know!" "Darn his eyes!" exclaimed Josh.

"Peet Spinbutton!" repeated Mrs. Beanpole; "what, the ensign of the Dogtown Blues?---that great hummokin' feller!"

"Darn him to darnation!" exclaimed Josh, catching hold of the toast-iron as if he meant to lay about him---" to cut in afore me in that 'ere sort o' way!"

Mrs. Beanpole caught Josh by the arm, exclaiming, "Josh! Joshy! Joshy! what are you about? Peet Spinbutton? I don't believe it."

"What!" said Josh, "did n't I hear with my own ears last night that ever was, Zeb Shute tell me all about it?"

"Zeb Shute ?---well, what did Zeb Shute say?"

"Why, says he to me---Josh, says he, what do you think, says he---I don't know, no n't I, says I. Tell you what, says he---that 'ere Hannah Downer--What of Hannah Downer? says I---for I begun to crawl all over. Tell ye what, says he---she's a whole team. Ah, says I, she's a whole team and a horse to let. Tell ye what, says he, guess somebody has a sneakin' notion that way. Should n't wonder, says I, feeling all over in a flustration, thinkin' he meant me. Tell ye what, says he,---guess Peet Spinbutton and she's pretty thick together. How you talk, says I. Fact, says he. Well, I never, says I. Tell ye what, says he---No, that's all he said."

"Pooh!" said the old woman, "it's all wind Joshy, it's nothing but Zeb Shute's nonsense."

"Do you think so?" exclaimed Josh, with a stare of uncommon animation, and his mouth wide open.

"No doubt on't Joshy, my boy," replied she, "for Peggy Downer was here yesterday forenoon, to borrow a cup of starch, and she never mentioned the leastest word about it under the light of the livin' sun."

"If I was only sure of that!" said Josh, laying down the toast-iron and sticking his knuckles into his right eye.

66

Joshy, my boy," said the old woman, "I don't believe Hannah Downer ever gin Peet Spinbutton the leastest encouragement in the universal world."

"Think so?" asked Josh, setting his elbows on his knees, his chin in his fists, and fixing his eyes vacantly downward in an angle of forty-five degrees, as if in intense admiration of the back-log.

"I'll tell you what, Joshy," said Mrs. Beanpole, in a motherly tone, "do you just put on your go-to-meetin' suit, and go to see Hannah this blessed night."

"Eh!" exclaimed qosh, starting from his elbows at the astounding boldness of the suggestion, and gazing straight up the chimney. "Do you think she'd let me?"

"Nothin' like tryin', Joshy;-must be a first time.

Besides, the old folks

are going to lecture, Hannah 'll be all alone-hey! qoshy, my boy! Nothin' like tryin'."

"Eh! eh" said Josh, screwing himself all up in a heap and staring most desperately at the lower button of his own waistcoat-for the thoughts of actually going a courting came over him in a most alarming fashion; “ would ye though, mother? Hannah's a nice gal, but somehow or other I feel plaguy

queer about it,"

"Oh, that's quite naiteral, Joshy; when you once get a goin' it be nothin' at all."

66

Higgle, giggle, giggle," said Josh, making a silly, sputtering kind of laugh" that's the very thing I'm afraid of, that 'ere gettin' a goin'-Hannah Downer is apt to be tarnation smart sometimes; and I've hearn tell, that courtin' is the hardest thing in the world to begin, though it goes on so slick arterwards."

"Nonsense, чosh, you silly dough-head; it's only saying two words, and it all goes as straight as a turnpike."

"By the hokey!" said Josh, rolling up his eyes and giving a punch with his fist in the air, "I 've an all-fired mind to try it though!"

Josh and his mother held a much longer colloquy upon the matter, the result of which was such an augmentation of his courage for the undertaking, that the courtship was absolutely decided upon; and just after dark, Josh gave his face a sound scrubbing with soap-suds, drew forth his Sunday pantaloons, which were of the brightest cow-colour, and after a good deal of labour, succeeded in getting into them, his legs being somewhat of the longest, and the pantaloons as tight as a glove, so that on seeing him fairly incased, it was somewhat of a puzzle to guess how he could ever get out of them. A flaming red waistcoat, and a gray coat with broad pewter buttons, set off his figure to the greatest advantage, to say nothing of a pair of bran new cow-hide shoes. Then rubbing his long hair with a tallow candle, and sprinkling a handful of Indian meal by way of powder, he twisted it behind with a leather string into a formidable queue, which he drew so tight that it was with the greatest difficulty he could shut his eyes; but this gave him but little concern, as he was determined to be wide awake through the whole affair. Being all equipt, he mounted Old Blueberry, and set off at an easy trot, which very soon fell into a walk, for the nearer Josh approached the dwelling of his Dulcinea, the more the thought of his great undertaking overpowered him.

Josh rode four times round the house before he found courage to alight; at length he made a desperate effort and pulled up under the lee side of the barn, where he dismounted, tied his horse, and approached the house with fear and trembling. At two rods distance he stopped short. There was a dead silence,

and he stood in awful irresolution. All at once a terrible voice, close at hand, caused him to start with great trepidation:---it was nothing but a couple of turkeys who had set up a gobbling from their roost on the top of the barn. Josh looked up, and beheld by the light of the moon, the old turkey cosily perched by the side of his mate: the sight was overpowering. "Ah! happy, happy turkey!" he mentally exclaimed, and turned about to proceed up the yard, but the next moment felt a violent cut across the broadest part of his nose. He started back again, but discovered it to be only a clothes-line which he had run against. "The course of true love never did run smooth." He went fearfully on, thinking of the connubial felicities of the turkey tribe, and the perils of clothes-lines, till he found himself at the door, where he stood fifteen minutes undetermined what to do; and if he had not bethought himself of the precaution of peeping in at the window, it is doubtful whether he would have mustered the courage to enter. But peep he did, and spied Hannah all alone at her knitting-work. This sight emboldened him, and he bolted in without knocking.

What precise sort of compliments Josh made use of in introducing himself, never could be discovered, for Josh laboured under such a confusion of the brain at the time, that he lost all recollection of what passed till he found himself seated in a flag-bottomed chair with a most uncomfortably deep hollow in it. He looked up, and actually saw Hannah sitting in the chimney corner knitting a pepper-and-salt stocking.

"Quite industrious to-night," said Josh.
"Don't know that," replied Hannah.
"Sure on't," returned Josh.

at the lowest calculation."

"Guess now you've knit from four to six pair

"Should n't wonder," replied Hannah.

"Tarnation!" said Josh, pretending to be struck with admiration at the exploit, though he knew it was nothing to boast of.

"How's your mother, Josh?" asked Hannah.

"Pretty considerable smart, Hannah; how's your mother?"

"So, so," replied Hannah, and here the conversation came to a stand.

Josh fumbled in his pockets, and stuck his legs out till they nearly reached across the room, in hopes to think of something more to say; but in vain. He then scratched his head, but there appeared to be nothing in it. "Is 't possible," thought he, "that I'm actually here a courting?" He could hardly believe it, and began to feel very awkward.

"I swow!" he exclaimed, opening his eyes as wide as he could.

"What's the matter?" asked Hannah, a little startled.

"Cotch a 'tarnal great musquash this forenoon."

“Ah!” said Hannah, "how big was it?"

"Big as all out-doors!"

"Lawful heart!" exclaimed Hannah.

Josh now felt a little more at his ease, finding the musquash helped him on so bravely. He hitched his chair about seven feet, at a single jerk, nearer to Hannah, and exclaimed, “Tell ye what, Hannah, I'm all creation for catching musquashes."

"Well I want to know!" replied Hannah.

Josh twisted his eyes into a squint, and gave her a look of melting tenderHannah perceived it, and did not know whether to laugh or be scared;

ness.