to him.  It is the equality of fear and of selfishness, and not the equality of courage and philanthropy.  And brotherhood, too, must be invoked—­ fraternity as we may better call it in the jargon of the school.  Such politicians tell one much of fraternity, and define it too.  It consists in a general raising of the hat to all mankind; in a daily walk that never hurries itself into a jostling trot, inconvenient to passengers on the pavement; in a placid voice, a soft smile, and a small cup of coffee on a boulevard.  It means all this, but I could never find that it meant any more.  There is a nation for which one is almost driven to think that such political aspirations as these are suitable; but that nation is certainly not the States of America.

And yet one finds many American gentlemen who have allowed themselves to be drifted into such a theory.  They have begun the world as republican citizens, and as such they must go on.  But in their travels and their studies, and in the luxury of their life, they have learned to dislike the rowdiness of their country’s politics.  They want things to be soft and easy; as republican as you please, but with as little noise as possible.  The President is there for four years.  Why not elect him for eight, for twelve, or for life?—­for eternity if it were possible to find one who could continue to live?  It is to this way of thinking that Americans are driven, when the polish of Europe has made the roughness of their own elections odious to them.

“Have you seen any of our great institootions, sir?” That of course is a question which is put to every Englishman who has visited New York, and the Englishman who intends to say that he has seen New York, should visit many of them.  I went to schools, hospitals, lunatic asylums, institutes for deaf and dumb, water-works, historical societies, telegraph offices, and large commercial establishments.  I rather think that I did my work in a thorough and conscientious manner, and I owe much gratitude to those who guided me on such occasions.  Perhaps I ought to describe all these institutions; but were I to do so, I fear that I should inflict fifty or sixty very dull pages on my readers.  If I could make all that I saw as clear and intelligible to others as it was made to me who saw it, I might do some good.  But I know that I should fail.  I marveled much at the developed intelligence of a room full of deaf and dumb pupils, and was greatly astonished at the performance of one special girl, who seemed to be brighter and quicker, and more rapidly easy with her pen than girls generally are who can hear and talk; but I cannot convey my enthusiasm to others.  On such a subject a writer may be correct, may be exhaustive, may be statistically great; but he can hardly be entertaining, and the chances are that he will not be instructive.