to reorganize everything, and to begin the world again with new habits and grand theories; but the French as a people were too old for such a change, and the theories fell to the ground.  But in the States, after their revolution, an Anglo-Saxon people had an opportunity of making a new State, with all the experience of the world before them; and to this matter of education they were from the first aware that they must look for their success.  They did so; and unrivaled population, wealth, and intelligence has been the result; and with these, looking at the whole masses of the people—­I think I am justified in saying—­ unrivaled comfort and happiness.  It is not that you, my reader, to whom in this matter of education fortune and your parents have probably been bountiful, would have been more happy in New York than in London.  It is not that I, who, at any rate, can read and write, have cause to wish that I had been an American.  But it is this:  if you and I can count up in a day all those on whom our eyes may rest and learn the circumstances of their lives, we shall be driven to conclude that nine-tenths of that number would have had a better life as Americans than they can have in their spheres as Englishmen.  The States are at a discount with us now, in the beginning of this year of grace 1862; and Englishmen were not very willing to admit the above statement, even when the States were not at a discount.  But I do not think that a man can travel through the States with his eyes open and not admit the fact.  Many things will conspire to induce him to shut his eyes and admit no conclusion favorable to the Americans.  Men and women will sometimes be impudent to him; the better his coat, the greater the impudence.  He will be pelted with the braggadocio of equality.  The corns of his Old World conservatism will be trampled on hourly by the purposely vicious herd of uncouth democracy.  The fact that he is paymaster will go for nothing, and will fail to insure civility.  I shall never forget my agony as I saw and heard my desk fall from a porter’s hand on a railway station, as he tossed it from him seven yards off on to the hard pavement.  I heard its poor, weak intestines rattle in their death struggle, and knowing that it was smashed, I forgot my position on American soil and remonstrated.  “It’s my desk, and you have utterly destroyed it,” I said.  “Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the porter.  “You’ve destroyed my property,” I rejoined, “and it’s no laughing matter.”  And then all the crowd laughed.  “Guess you’d better get it glued,” said one.  So I gathered up the broken article and retired mournfully and crestfallen into a coach.  This was very sad, and for the moment I deplored the ill luck which had brought me to so savage a country.  Such and such like are the incidents which make an Englishman in the States unhappy, and rouse his gall against the institutions of the country; these things and the continued appliance of the irritating ointment