unless he would confess and discover to them the stolen money, so that they might have it. He vainly expostulated with them; but, in consideration of his wife's entreaties and cries, they remitted his sentence to thirteen lashes. One man then bound him to a tree and lashed him with a cow-hide whip, while the other held and gagged him; the alarmed wife all the time shrieking murder. He was then untied, and told to depart from the state immediately, or he should receive another whipping on the morrow, as a warning and terror to all future coming Yankees.'-pp. 304, 305.

Thus far, Mr. Faux. The practice is fully confirmed by an occurrence mentioned in a New York paper, of a recent date, now before us. A man of the name of Botsford was suspected of robbing the bank of which Colonel Kelly was cashier, but there was no proof to convict him. Kelly, therefore, undertook the office of 'Regulator,' enticed the man into the woods, tied him up, and whipped him most unmercifully, to extort a confession, in which, however, he failed. In return, Botsford sued Kelly for damages, in which he also failed. The brother of this man then gave out that he carried a knife, and waited only an opportunity of having his revenge. On this, the colonel, armed with a pair of pistols and a cow-hide whip, met Botsford, and began to flog him, when the latter drew his knife and stabbed him to the heart!

Who, after this, will venture to deny the Librarian's assertion, that the American' feels that no power on earth can crush him?' Or, that he knows the limits of his punishment, and the character of his judges?' Of what use, we would ask, are either judges or jury, where Lynch's law' prevails, and regulators to enforce it?

In return for these well-meant efforts to render the judge's situation a mere sinecure, other functions are occasionally conferred upon him, calculated, we should think, rather to increase the weight than the dignity of his office. Squire Simpson, an old emigrant from England, had two parties brought before him when acting as a magistrate, neither of whom were satisfied with his decision; and the most choleric of the two thus addressed him. "Well! I don't see, I guess, that we can settle it fairly—so here's at you I'll fight you, squire." The squire took him at his word, and after a fair set-to, the judge thrashed the complainant soundly.'

Our traveller tells us, what was scarcely necessary, that the land to the westward is far superior to any in the eastern states; but that the people appear to be ignorant how to treat it. The farm log-houses are miserable holes, having one room only, and in that one miserable room all cook, eat, sleep, breed, and die, males and females, all together!' General M'Carty's seat,' says

the

the farmer, is very little bigger, and no better, than my kitchen in Somersham. The general looks dirty and butcher-like, and very unlike a soldier in appearance, seeming half-savage, and dressed as a back-woodsman.' (p. 184.)

We now find Mr. Faux at Lexington, the metropolis of Old Kentuck,' (for he adopts the slang of the people wherever he is) which he thus describes::

Every edifice, saving the college, a beautiful building, seems filthy, neglected, and in ruins, particularly the court-house, the temple of justice, in the best square, which, with its broken windows, rotten window-frames, rotten broken doors, all ruined and spoiled for lack of paint and a nail, looks like an old abandoned bagnio, not fit to be compared with any workhouse in England. This city, it is here said, is retrograding, but in it are many comfortable abodes, and the best society of Kentucky. p. 191.

and

Here he meets with a Squire Lidiard, a rich English emigrant, who, seduced by Birkbeck's Letters,' left his countinghouse in London and the Royal Exchange, and his house on Blackheath, and all his connections-for what? He confessed he could not tell-except to see what American roguery was, to live among a people who neither regard honesty nor punctuality'' with whom,' says he, I decline all transactions, it being impossible with safety to buy or sell any thing of importance under their present paper system.' Our farmer soon experienced the truth of this, when his Pennsylvanian note of twenty dollars would only be taken for five. But hear Mr. Lidiard.

'Liberty and independence, of which you and I thought so much and so highly while on the other side of the Atlantic, sink and fade in value on a nearer view. Nobody here properly appreciates, but almost all abuse, this boasted liberty. Liberty here means to do each as he pleases; to care for nothing and nobody, and cheat everybody. If I buy an estate, and advance money before I get a title, it is ten to one but I lose it, and never get a title that is worth having. My garden cost me, this summer only, fifty dollars, and all the produce was stolen by boys and young men, who professed to think they had the liberty to do so. If you complain to their friends and superiors, the answer is, "Oh, it is only a boyish trick, not worth notice." And again, I tell the gentlemen, that if I wished to be social and get drunk with them, I dare not; for they would take the liberty to scratch me like a tiger, and gouge, and dirk me. I cannot part with my nose and eyes.'p. 194.

6

And he gave the farmer the following illustration of those 'rights,' and that security' which we are told every American enjoys ' by the liberal institutions of his country.'

'I saw an execution lately defeated by that boasted spirit, which they call liberty, or independence. The property, under execution, was put

up

up to sale, when the eldest son appeared with a huge Herculean club, and said, "Gentlemen, you may bid for and buy these bricks and things, which were my father's, but, by G-, no man living shall come on to this ground with horse and cart to fetch them away. The land is mine, and if the buyer takes any thing away, it shall be on his back.”'. p. 192.

'Illustrations' of liberty, like these, crowding fast upon one another, perplex our poor friend in the extreme: he falls into a train of pious reflections, of no very novel cast, it must be owned, which is thus wound 6 up: we need the blessing of Heaven upon every thing, even on its blessings. I am sometimes disposed to think that the blessings of American liberty are unblessed.'p. 425.

I,

Mr. Faux was informed that the price of land in these back settlements had fallen full 50 per cent. since Birkbeck made his purchase, which had induced him to forfeit his first deposit on 30,000 acres. Mr. Lidiard described the English province,' on which this man and the Flower family have settled, as all a humbug;'-' they are in the mire, and cannot get out.'says Mr. Lidiard, keep my money in the funds;'-those funds which, according to Mr. Law, are to make beggars of his friends and family in England. As to money, in this western paradise, by Mr. Lidiard's account, and indeed by every other which we have seen, there is no such thing- nothing,' he says, would command money except negroes-nothing but black flesh and blood.'-The bubble, like the Poyais prairie, appears to have burst at last; our farmer saw a fine English family from Leicestershire passing through Lexington, on their return, pennyless strangers in a strange land,' perfectly disgusted with Birkbeck and his settlement.

We have seen a magistrate turn out and box the culprit; we will now give a sketch of an enraged judge.

Judge Waggoner, who is a notorious hog-stealer, was recently accused, while sitting on the bench, by Major Hooker, the hunter, gouger, whipper, and nose-biter, of stealing many hogs, and being, although a judge, the greatest rogue in the United States. This was the Major's answer to the question Guilty, or Not Guilty? on an indictment presented against him. The court laughed, and the judge raved, and bade Hooker go out and he would fight him. The major agreed, but said, "Judge, you shall go six miles into the woods, and the longest liver shall come back to tell his tale!" The judge would not go. The major was now, in his turn, much enraged by the judge ordering him into court to pay a fine of ten dollars for some former offence, the present indictment being suffered to drop.'-pp. 318, 319.

Something, we know not what, unless it be a want of respect

for

for his new clothes, seems to have offended the farmer at Louisville. A traveller,' he says, should be prepared with plain clothes, or the dress of a mechanic, in this country; a gentlemanly appearance exciting unfriendly or curious feeling:-and without further warning, he breaks out in the following strain. The American, considered as an animal, is filthy, bordering on the beastly; as a man, he seems a being of superior capabilities. All his vices and imperfections seem natural; those of the semi-barbarian; he is ashamed of none of them. I am well pleased to turn my back on all the spitting, gouging, dirking, duelling, swearing and staring of old Kentucky.' (p. 203.)

He crossed the Ohio at Portland, and breakfasted at New Albion, a rising village, where, for the first time in America, he found, he says, 'sweet home-baked bread.' To cross the Ohio for what the poorest hamlet in his own country would abundantly supply, is not turning time and money to the best account-but our farmer jogs on, in as many humours as Harry Bolingbroke, dining where he can, and sleeping in log-houses, though somewhat less luxuriously than at cousin Rugeley's, having a strange Yankee for a bed-fellow, and two Irish, and one poor sick American at his feet.' p. 208.

The farmer has little good to say of Vincennes, his next stage. His course of education seems to have given him a respect for the Sabbath, which is here violated in the most wanton and profligate manner; he quits it therefore on the second morning for Princeton: his road, he says, lay over an extensive, sandy, black, burning prairie, the sun looking more like the moon, and as if turned into blood:-in short, nothing whatever seems to have pleased him.

Saving two comfortable plantations, with neat log houses and flourishing orchards, just planted, and which sprout and grow like osiers in England, I saw nothing between Vincennes and Princeton, a ride of forty miles, but miserable log holes, and a mean ville of eight or ten huts, or cabins, sad neglected farms, and indolent, dirty, sickly, wild looking inhabitants. Soap is no where seen or found in any of the taverns east or west. Hence dirty hands, heads, and faces everywhere. Here is nothing clean but wild beasts and birds, nothing industrious generally except pigs, which are so of necessity. Work or starve is the order of the day with them. Nothing happy but squirrels; their life seems all play, and that of the hogs all work. I reached Princeton at sun-set.'-p. 221.

Here he met with a Mr. Phillips, from Somersetshire, who was anxiously looking for a customer, to whom he could sell his improvements, and then return to England.

Mr. Phillips and his wife both looked very shabby, wild, and dirty. He apologized to me for his dishabille, and said, "Sir, if a stranger

like you had found me in this plight in England, and I could have seen you coming up to my door, I should have hid myself. Here, however, no shame is felt, but pleasure, at a visit from one of my countrymen, whom I shall be happy to meet again." He keeps an housemaid only, his wife doing nearly all the drudgery herself, although in England a lady unaccustomed to soil her hands, or let her feet stray from the parlour carpet.'-p. 223.

Mr. Phillips hated the prairies, (and not without reason,) and so did our farmer most cordially, for the multitude of annoyances he every where met with; among others, the Indian Summer, which had nearly smoked him to death, and which he thus describes :

'The season, called the Indian summer, which here commences in October by a dark blue hazy atmosphere, is caused by millions of acres, for thousands of miles round, being in a wide spreading, flaming, blazing, smoking fire, rising up through wood and prairie, hill and dale, to the tops of low shrubs and high trees, which are kindled by the coarse, thick, long, prairie grass, and dying leaves, at every point of the compass, and far beyond the foot of civilization, darkening the air, heavens and earth, over the whole extent of the northern and part of the southern continent, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and in neighbourhoods contiguous to the all-devouring conflagration, filling the whole horizon with yellow, palpable, tangible smoke, ashes, and vapour, which affect the eyes of man and beast, and obscure the sun, moon, and stars, for many days, or until the winter rains descend to quench the fire and purge the thick ropy air, which is seen, tasted, handled and felt.

So much for an Indian summer, which partakes of the vulgar idea of the infernal. Why called Indian? Because these fires seem to have originated with the native tribes, and are now perpetuated by the White Hunters, who by these means start, disturb, and pen up the game, and destroy the dens of both man and beast, and all this with impunity.'pp. 232, 233.

a

The 6th November is marked in our traveller's Journal with whiter stone. He left Princeton in the morning, and after riding all day through thick smoke and fire, which sometimes met in arches across the road, and compelled him and his guide to wait awhile or turn aside, reached, in the evening, the welcome abode of Mr. and Mrs. John Ingle, who with their six children rushed out to embrace their old friend, school-fellow and neighbour, and great was the joy of the meeting.

Our author gives a graphical description of his friend's loghouse, and as it is one of the best which he saw, we shall lay it before the reader.

'It is fifteen feet square, has one large room, and a chamber over it, to which you climb by a ladder. It has, at present, no windows; but when the doors are shut, the crevices between the logs admit light and air enough above and below. Two beds in the room below, and one above, lodge us in the following manner: myself and Mr. Ingle in one

bed;