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democracy! There was a child of about eight years old in the room, who called for an antifogmatic, which he drank off at one swallow, after which he lighted a cigar, and amused himself with singeing the woolly pate of a little black boy, or terrapin, as they call them when made into soup."

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At Portsmouth our traveller discovers that he was on the wrong road to New-Orleans, and is obliged to return again to Boston. Here an event is recorded, which, for the honor of humanity, we earnestly hope has been either misrepresented or misunderstood, for we can scarcely persuade ourselves that an act of such unutterable turpitude could ever have been perpetrated, without subjecting the place in which it was committed to a fate more tremendous than that of Sodom or Gomorrah. We allude to the blowing up of Mr. Higginbottom, Mr. Winterbottom, and Mr. Leatherbottom, with all their families, by a villain of the name of Ramsbottom, because, forsooth, Mrs. Higginbottom had said that Mr. Winterbottom sold crimped tuckers cheaper than Mr. Leatherbottom. We refer our readers to the book for a particular account of this atrocious deed, which stamps upon the American character a stain of indelible infamy.

Mr. Toughtale here makes an effort to get rid of a little Frenchman," with a mahogany face, gold ear-rings, and dimity breeches," who had impertinently obtruded himself into his society, and who disgusted him exceedingly by perpetual exhibitions of that loathsome obsequiousness for which the French have always been remarkable. In spite of every precaution, however, our traveller finds himself, on all occasions, in taverns, and steam-boats, and stage-coaches, side by side with this eternal Frenchman.

This fellow, it appears, had combined with a yankee passensenger to rob Mr. Toughtale, who was literally obliged to travel through the United States with his hands in his pockets, his pocket-book in one hand, and his watch in the other, and to sit up every night with a cocked pistol in each hand, ready to defend himself! This one fact speaks volumes, and shows conclusively, that the practice of picking pockets is universal in this Elysium of the west. All classes of the community, in this way contrive to accumulate immense sums, and we have heard from competent authority, that Mr. Clintock, the first judge of the vice-admiralty court for the province of New-York, is known to have amassed a large fortune in this very dishonorable manner. It is not, indeed, unreasonable to suppose that the greater part of the wealth which the American cities are now said to possess,

and of which we have every day such sickening accounts, are the dishonest fruits of the mutual depredations committed upon each other's property by these shop-lifting, pig-stealing demo

crats.

At a tavern on a lonely moor, in the neighbourhood of Boston, an attempt was made by a pretended stage-coachman to rob and murder Mr. Toughtale, which was defeated by the resolute intrepidity of that gentleman, who discharged his pistol at the scoundrel just as he entered the bed room. Will it be believed, that this villain (who, we regret to state, escaped unhurt) insisted on Mr. Toughtale's paying a pint of whiskey, as a compromise, forsooth, for defending himself against assassination? We doubt whether the records of the French police could furnish an instance of such horrible depravity.

One fact, it is well said, is worth a thousand fine-spun theories. Let the enemies of a church establishment read the following fact, and we shall hear no more of the vile slang of universal toleration.

"On the confines of Connecticut, the very centre of steady habits, although it was Sunday, (a sufficient reason for deterring any christian highwayman,) we were stopped by a footpad, who demanded money with as little compunction as a he-wolf. Upon my showing my pistols, however, he sheered off, and the driver whipping up his horses at the moment, we luckily escaped this time. The incident of a single foot-pad attempting thus to rob a whole stage load of people, furnishes another proof of the fact, that stage-drivers and stage-owners, not to say a majority of stage-passengers, are accomplices of these bands of robbers. Had it not been for my pistols, we should all have been robbed to a certainty, and most probably the rest of the passengers would have shared my spoils. What exhibits the turbulent and impious spirit of democracy in all its turpitude, is the fact that the driver, after getting fairly out of sight, turned round to the passengers with a grin, and exclaimed, 'I guess I've distanced the deacon.' So that this foot-pad was one of the pillars of the church."-p. 39.

On his way to New-York, Mr. Toughtale was compelled to witness one of those disgusting scenes already described by Mr. Faux, and alluded to by us in our review of that gentleman's "Memorable Days;" we mean a negro-hunt, the only amusement, it seems, for which these black-hearted republicans have any fondness or capacity. We have been credibly informed, although the fact is not adverted to by Mr. Toughtale, that it is by no means an uncommon occurrence, for the most fashionable women in New-York to take an active part in this atrocious sport, as it is unblushingly denominated. A very respectable journeyman pin-head-maker has just assured

us, that he was well acquainted, while in America, with a negro-hunter, who one day showed him the wooly scalps of upwards of one hundred negroes, which he had hunted down in the cotton-swamps of Massachusetts!

We have often heard of the incredible quantity of toads, lizards, and bull-frogs, which infest, like the locusts of Egypt, every part of the United States. These nauseous reptiles literally cover the whole country, crawling over tables, into beds, and swarming in the very "kneading troughs." Mr. Toughtale saw a canoe upset at New-Rochelle, by the weight of four of these disgusting creatures who were clambering up its sides.

New-York exhibits at present a great appearance of bustle, which the Philadelphians (and we agree with them) consider merely got up for show. "Sometimes," says Mr. Toughtale, "the New-Yorkers pull down a street and build it up again, merely to impose upon strangers an idea of the prosperity of the city, and thereby to attract emigrants from England." In this unprincipled design, we are sorry to say, they have been but too successful. Thousands of deluded wretches have been, by this vile trick, inveigled to America, and are now starving in that land of milk and honey, in a state of irremediable beggary.

Mr. Toughtale has given a fearful, and we doubt not a faithful account, of the horrid state of morals in this "sewer of all earth's scum," as Mr. Faux has very properly called the city of New-York. Every man, without exception, is a drunkard and a thief; and the quantity of ill-gotten wealth that the citizens of New-York have accumulated by swindling and plundering each other, is almost incredible. A Broadway shopkeeper told Mr. Toughtale that no lady entered his shop without pocketing a piece of lace or a pair of gloves. Mr. Toughtale found, on leaving the shop, that his own pocket had been picked by this very shop-keeper!

"The consequence of all this," said Mr. Toughtale's host, a very worthy and religious gentleman of color, "is a general and irremediable relaxation of, manners, and a total want of prudence and principle in all classes. Drunkenness, impiety, insolence, extravagance, ignorance, brutality, gluttony, and every vice that can disgrace human nature, are the ordinary characteristics of these spawn of filthy democracy."-p. 61.

The following is a specimen of a conversation which Mr. Toughtale accidentally overheard, while walking one evening on the Battery at New-York. It is only after long and solemn deliberation that we have prevailed upon ourselves to pollute our pages with this precious piece of execrable blasphemy;

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but our repugnance has been conquered in the hope that such a sample of republican impiety will put an end at once to all doubts about the frightful consequences of a free toleration of opinion.

"No. 1.- Well, neighbour, how d'ye get on?'

O, by degrees, as lawyers go to heaven!

"No. 2. When do you go out of town?'

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Why, I think of going to-morrow, God willing.'

"No. 3. Bless my soul, neighbour, where have you sprung from?"
Why, God love you, I sprung from the clouds, like Methuselah!
"No. 4.—'Well, friend, how does the good woman to-day?"
"Why, thank you, she complains of being a little better!"

Nor is this all. But the sequel is too horrid, and we dare not trust ourselves with further extracts.

There is no part of Mr. Toughtale's excellent book which we so heartily commend, as his eloquent and evangelical defence of the necessity of church establishments. We have before (vide vol. xxix. p. 369.) adverted in strong terms to the fatal, fatal mistake which the Americans have committed, in not inserting into their articles of confederation, a clause requiring as a qualification for office, a confession of belief in the tenets of the Church of England, and establishing, at the same time, a generous support for the defenders of the faith, by a rigorously executed system of tithes; for, as we said on that occasion, "to expect men to cultivate morality and neglect religion, is to know very little of human nature." The following quotations are written in such a noble spirit of genuine eloquence and unaffected piety, and so exactly represent the opinions we have always steadily inculcated on this interesting subject, that we offer no apology to our readers for inserting them at length:

"In proportion as the hierarchy is enriched by the spoils of the people, the latter, becoming comparatively poor, are precluded by necessity from indulging in vicious extravagance and corrupt enjoyments. They will practise per force, abstinence, economy, self-denial, and the other domestic virtues so essential to the welfare of the lower orders. Hence it is sufficiently obvious, that in proportion as you curtail the superfluities of the commonalty by taxes, tithes, high rents, and poor rates, you guaranty to them the practice of almost all the cardinal virtues. Again: In proportion as the people become poor, they will necessarily pay less attention to the education of their children; and I fear no denial, except from radicals, democrats, and atheists, when I assert, that considering the mischievous books now in circulation on the subject of liberty and such impieties, the greatest blessing that could possibly happen to the lower orders, would be the loss of the dangerous faculty of reading. In no age of the world were this class of people so devoted to the honor of the priests, and the glory of their kings, and consequently to the interests of religion and human rights, as when a large portion of them could not read, and were without

any property they could call their own. I appeal to the whole history of mankind for the proof of the maxim, that ignorance and poverty are the two pillars of a privileged church, and the divine right of kings." pp. 66, 67.

The dreadful consequences of the atheistical doctrine of freedom of opinion, are such as we might naturally anticipate. The Sabbath in New-York is horribly profaned; and Mr. Toughtale's landlord (the worthy and religious black gentleman) assured him that the African church was the only one in which there was a chance of hearing a sermon; and that even there, the whole congregation was sometimes taken up and carried to the watch-house, under pretence that they disturbed the neighbourhood with their groanings, howlings, and other demonstrations of genuine piety. "The true reason was, however that these bundling, gouging democrats, have such a bitter hostility to all sorts of religion, that they cannot bear even that the poor negroes should sing psalms." ~p. 69.

The state of literature in New-York may be inferred from the reply of one of the bas bleus of that place, to Mr. Toughtale, who inquired of her how she liked Lord Bacon. "Bacon -bacon," replied this American Corinna-"O! I guess we call it gammon. But we don't put Lord to it, because its anti-republican." Mr. Toughtale is however mistaken in supposing that Lord Bacon is the present Lord Chancellor of England. Lord V. Bacon, "the great inventor of human reason,' as Mr. Toughtale very justly terms him, died many years ago, during the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

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Two other facts (and these, we again repeat, are worth a thousand fine-spun theories) are conclusive on the subject of the literary qualifications of the Americans. Mr. Crawfoot, the present Chancellor of the Exchequer, cannot write his own name, and the Washington House of Delegates is obliged to employ a clerk to read the papers, messages, &c. for the benefit of the country members!

In New-York, Mr. Toughtale found upwards of thirty thousand English emigrants, literally starving in the streets for want of employment. He inquired minutely into the history of one of these poor wretches, who it appears had encountered, after his arrival in America, scenes of misery and horror that exceed all parallel, and baffle all description. We refer the reader to the book itself, for we have not the heart to copy out the extract.

At New-York, Mr. Toughtale had some experience of transAtlantic jurisprudence. He had detected De Gomperville, the suspicious looking Frenchman, in the very act of sharpening

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