They were, accordingly, much less elegant and much less poor than the heiress; yet they lived with no appearance of comfort, and with, I believe, nothing beyond the necessaries of life.

One proof of this was, that the worthless father would not suffer them to raise, even by their own labour, any garden vegetables, and they lived upon their fat pork, salt fish, and corn bread, summer and winter, without variation.

This, I found, was frequently the case among the farmers.

The luxury of whiskey is more appreciated by the men than all the green delicacies from the garden, and if all the ready money goes for that and their darling chewing tobacco, none can be spent by the wife for garden seeds; and as far as my observation extended, I never saw any American _menage_ where the toast and no toast question, would have been decided in favour of the lady.
There are some small farmers who hold their lands as tenants, but these are by no means numerous: they do not pay their rent in money, but by making over a third of the produce to the owner; a mode of paying rent, considerably more advantageous to the tenant than the landlord; but the difficulty of obtaining _money_ in payment, excepting for mere retail articles, is very great in all American transactions.

"I can pay in pro-_duce_," is the offer which I was assured is constantly made on all occasions, and if rejected, "Then I guess we can't deal," is the usual rejoinder.
This statement does not, of course, include the great merchants of great cities, but refers to the mass of the people scattered over the country; it has, indeed, been my object, in speaking of the customs of the people, to give an idea of what they are _generally_.
The effect produced upon English people by the sight of slavery in every direction is very new, and not very agreeable, and it is not the less painfully felt from hearing upon every breeze the mocking words, "All men are born free and equal." One must be in the heart of American slavery, fully to appreciate that wonderfully fine passage in Moore's Epistle to Lord Viscount Forbes, which describes perhaps more faithfully, as well as more powerfully, the political state of America, than any thing that has ever been written upon it.
Oh! Freedom, Freedom, how I hate thy cant! Not eastern bombast, nor the savage rant Of purpled madmen, were they numbered all From Roman Nero, down to Russian Paul, Could grate upon my ear so mean, so base, As the rank jargon of that factious race, Who, poor of heart, and prodigal of words, Born to be slaves, and struggling to be lords, But pant for licence, while they spurn controul, And shout for rights, with rapine in their soul! Who can, with patience, for a moment see The medley mass of pride and misery, Of whips and charters, manacles and rights, Of slaving blacks, and democratic whites, Of all the pyebald polity that reigns In free confusion o'er Columbia's plains?
To think that man, thou just and gentle God! Should stand before thee with a tyrant's rod, O'er creatures like himself, with soul from thee, Yet dare to boast of perfect liberty: Away, away, I'd rather hold my neck By doubtful tenure from a Sultan's beck, In climes where liberty has scarce been named, Nor any right, but that of ruling, claimed, Than thus to live, where bastard freedom waves Her fustian flag in mockery o'er slaves; Where (motley laws admitting no degree Betwixt the vilely slaved, and madly free) Alike the bondage and the licence suit, The brute made ruler, and the man made brute! The condition of domestic slaves, however, does not generally appear to be bad; but the ugly feature is, that should it be so, they have no power to change it.