acres.

market tables. The former is always, in the first place, a proprietor. Tenancy for rent is practically unknown in America, although men sometimes "let" some of their land upon the "metayer," or share of profit, system. The farms are always small. In Massachusetts, for example, more than half of them are between twenty and a hundred acres in extent, the greater part of the remaining half are even smaller, while there are very few properties containing more than three hundred For every four of these farms, again, there are but three labourers, so that we have here a state of things differing in every respect as widely as possible from that tripartite agricultural economy, whose ideal perfection was first discovered by Lord Beaconsfield. But whatever the theoretical advantages possessed by the English triad of squire, farmer, and labourer, it is beyond all question that the American combination of freeholder, husbandman and help in one man stimulates energy and develops ingenuity in a very remarkable manner.

Our friend Mr. Wheeler, for example, a descendant of Captain Truman Wheeler, one of the Great Barrington minute-men of 1775, is a modest landowner and farmer, living in the near neighbourhood of his ancestral town and an excellent type of his class. Plain in his dress, which is that of a citizen, distinguished by some je ne sais quoi of the soil, simple in manner and direct in speech, he seems at once an agriculturist,

a merchant and a public man. But, being a farmer, an Englishman thinks him most distinguished by that extreme readiness to entertain and consider new ideas, which is, perhaps, the most notable feature of New England character.

The strength of America, in Mr. Wheeler's opinion, lies chiefly in the farmer class. The love of the homestead is a passion which, united with only moderate prosperity, gives birth to a patriotism, such as neither the great mill-owner, on the one hand, nor the well-paid operative, on the other, can possibly feel. But this love of the land is accompanied by no corresponding dislike of trade and manufacture, which the American landowner encourages to the utmost of his power and treats with the highest respect. Indeed, since competition with the West has compelled the change of face in New England farming of which I have already spoken, Mr. Wheeler's chief customers for dairy produce and table vegetables are the operatives of the Housatonic valley. Employing scarcely any labour himself, he has no quarrel with factory rates of wages, but is keenly alive to the advantage of a well-to-do and numerous clientèle. New England farmers are all advocates for well-paid labour, which they have, curiously enough, been brought to look upon as the result of a protectionist policy. They do not yet understand, what I hope will become clear when we come to discuss the tariff by-andby, that American rates of wages are determined by

agriculture instead of manufacture, by free trade anà not by protection. That the American operative should credit his exceptionally high wages to the "protection of labour" is not at all surprising, but it is astonishing to find the intelligent American farmer, who himself really determines the wages rates of the country, sharing the same delusive belief.

Returning from Mr. Wheeler's farm to Great Barrington, we crossed the Housatonic by a wide bridge, one of those remarkably skilful, if not æsthetic, structures so common in the States, which still bear the name of "Howe" trusses, in memory of the clever Connecticut carpenter, who first devised these simple but scientific wooden girders. There is a story told about this bridge by Dr. Dwight, the chronicler of the New England of the last century, which is as remarkable as it is well authenticated. "A Mr. Van Rensselaer, a young gentleman from Albany, came one evening into an inn, kept by Mr. Root, just at the eastern end of the bridge. The innkeeper, who knew him, asked him where he had crossed the river. He answered, ' On the bridge!' Mr. Root replied that that was impossible, because it had been raised that very day, and that not a plank had yet been relaid upon it. Mr. Van Rensselaer said this could not be true, because his horse had come over it without difficulty or reluctance; that the night was indeed so profoundly dark as to prevent him from seeing anything distinctly, but that it was in

credible, if his horse could see sufficiently well to keep his footing anywhere, that he should not discern the danger, and impossible for him to pass the bridge in that condition. Each went to bed dissatisfied, neither believing the story of the other. In the morning, Mr. Van Rensselaer went, at the solicitation of his host, to view the bridge and, finding it a naked frame, gazed a moment with astonishment, and then fainted."

My companion, who had lately purchased a building site of singular and romantic beauty, lying upon the Housatonic River, desired, on our return, to refer to his title, thus giving me an opportunity of seeing how the transfer of real estate is managed in New England. Entering the Town Hall, we found a lady, the daughter of the town clerk, in charge of the Land Registration Office and in one of her big books the required document was found in a few moments. It consisted of a very short deed, describing the boundaries of the fifteen acres in question and containing a contract to sell and to buy the same, the whole being couched in perfectly simple language. Every transfer and mortgage of real estate is recorded in this succinct way in the register of each township. This contains a complete, intelligible and easily accessible history of local land-ownership, running back to the first purchases made by settlers from the original Indian proprietors. The fee for such registration is one dollar, and so easily can the validity of titles be ascertained under this system, that intelligent

men frequently, as in the present instance, buy and sell land, just as they would the crops upon it, without the intervention of a lawyer and, therefore, without expense.

That a lady should be the transcriber and custodian of the Great Barrington Land Register is not a remarkable thing, but that we should have been able to transact a piece of important business, in a public office, with so much case and despatch and receive so much polite assistance and prompt attention as fell, it seemed quite naturally, to our lot, struck me as noteworthy. It is indeed difficult for Englishmen to realize how truly the public offices of America are placed at the service of the people. One seems to do officials an actual kindness, whether in Town Halls, or State Bureaux, by asking questions, or requesting references to public documents. Certainly, in the present instance, nothing could be more agreeable than the quarter of an hour of pleasant and instructive chat about the affairs of her native town, to which I was made welcome by the custodian of its land records, while my companion was making his notes.

Leaving the Town Hall, we took "supper," or "high tea," as we should call it, in one of the modest little white houses, whose appearance I have already endeavoured to bring before the reader. This was the residence of Mrs. Whiting, a widow, and of her two daughters, all old friends and the latter old schoolfellows of my companion. We were a pleasant party of six and a merrier group could scarcely have been gathered