This distinguished man had retreated to America after the death of his master, and was endeavouring to establish a sort of Polytechnic academy at New York: in speaking of him, I observed, that his devotion to the cause of freedom must prove a strong recommendation in the United States.

"Not the least in the world, madam," answered a gentleman who ranked deservedly high among the _literati_ of the city, "it might avail him much in England, perhaps, but here we are perfectly indifferent as to what people's principles may be." This I believe to be exactly true, though I never before heard it avowed as a national feature.
The want of warmth, of interest, of feeling, upon all subjects which do not immediately touch their own concerns, is universal, and has a most paralysing effect upon conversation.

All the enthusiasm of America is concentrated to the one point of her own emancipation and independence; on this point nothing can exceed the warmth of her feelings.

She may, I think, be compared to a young bride, a sort of Mrs.Major Waddle; her independence is to her as a newly-won bridegroom; for him alone she has eyes, ears, or heart;--the honeymoon is not over yet;--when it is, America will, perhaps, learn more coquetry, and know better how to _faire l'aimable_ to other nations.
I conceive that no place in the known world can furnish so striking a proof of the immense value of literary habits as the United States, not only in enlarging the mind, but what is of infinitely more importance, in purifying the manners.

During my abode in the country I not only never met a literary man who was a tobacco chewer or a whiskey drinker, but I never met any who were not, that had escaped these degrading habits.