fluid,” over again.
This “drop” plays a stupendous part in the American
rhapsody of self-praise.
Undoubtedly the Americans
are highly nervous, both the men and the women.
A great Paris
physician says that he notes a distinct new form of nervous disease, produced in American women by worry about servants.
But this nervousness, developed in the race out there by worry, overwork, want of exercise, injudicious diet, and a most trying climate — this morbid nervousness, our friends ticket as the fine susceptibility of genius, and cite it as a proof of their distinction, of their superior capacity for civilization!
“The roots of civilization are the nerves,” says our Congregationalist instructor, again; “and, other things being equal, the finest nervous organization will produce the highest civilization.
Now, the finest nervous organization is ours.”
The new West
promises to beat in the game of brag even the stout champions I have been quoting.
Those belong to the old Eastern States; and the other day there was sent to me a Californian newspaper which calls all the Easterners “the unhappy denizens of a forbidding clime,” and adds: “The time will surely come when all roads will lead to California
Here will be the home of art, science, literature, and profound knowledge.”