With a very delightful party, of one’s own choosing, fine temperate weather, and a strong breeze to chase the mosquitos, this mode of travelling might be very agreeable, but I can hardly imagine any motive of convenience powerful enough to induce me again to imprison myself in a canal boat under ordinary circumstances.  The accommodations being greatly restricted, every body, from the moment of entering the boat, acts upon a system of unshrinking egotism.  The library of a dozen books, the backgammon board, the tiny berths, the shady side of the cabin, are all jostled for in a manner to make one greatly envy the power of the snail; at the moment I would willingly have given up some of my human dignity for the privilege of creeping into a shell of my own.  To any one who has been accustomed in travelling, to be addressed with, “Do sit here, you will find it more comfortable,” the “You must go there, I made for this place first,” sounds very unmusical.

There is a great quietness about the women of America (I speak of the exterior manner of persons casually met), but somehow or other, I should never call it gentleness.  In such trying moments as that of fixing themselves on board a packet-boat, the men are prompt, determined, and will compromise any body’s convenience, except their own.  The women are doggedly stedfast in their will, and till matters are settled, look like hedgehogs, with every quill raised, and firmly set, as if to forbid the approach of any one who might wish to rub them down.  In circumstances where an English woman would look proud, and a French woman nonchalante, an American lady looks grim; even the youngest and the prettiest can set their lips, and knit their brows, and look as hard and unsocial as their grandmothers.

Though not in the Yankee or New England country, we were bordering upon it sufficiently to meet in the stages and boats many delightful specimens of this most peculiar race.  I like them extremely well, but I would not wish to have any business transactions with them, if I could avoid it, lest, to use their own phrase, “they should be too smart for me.”

It is by no means rare to meet elsewhere, in this working-day world of our’s, people who push acuteness to the verge of honesty, and sometimes, perhaps, a little bit beyond; but, I believe, the Yankee is the only one who will be found to boast of doing so.  It is by no means easy to give a clear and just idea of a Yankee; if you hear his character from a Virginian, you will believe him a devil:  if you listen to it from himself, you might fancy him a god—­though a tricky one; Mercury turned righteous and notable.  Matthews did very well, as far as “I expect,” “I calculate,” and “I guess;” but this is only the shell; there is an immense deal within, both of sweet and bitter.  In acuteness, cautiousness, industry, and perseverance, he resembles the Scotch; in habits of frugal neatness, he resembles the Dutch; in love of lucre he doth greatly resemble the sons of Abraham; but in frank admission, and superlative admiration of all his own peculiarities, he is like nothing on earth but himself.