And thus, though none of the people are what is called rich, none are poor. The small houses are neat, and the fruit trees, the blossoming shrubs, the green grass, around them, declare that the people are happy. They are not mad in the foolish chase for riches, which is destroying more peace in this country, than all the bodily diseases our flesh is heir to. They are now, from better knowledge, satisfied that the rich man shall possess his wealth, both because they perceive that generally speaking the laboring classes are the happiest, and that the security of property is the only steady impulse to economy, industry, providence, and the other important village virtues. They are more fond of knowledge, for they perceive that it increases their power of being happy. They respect talent and wisdom, for they know that these are gifts sent by Heaven, for the guidance of man to happiness. In politics they are staunch republicans, but always give their votes for men of sterling integrity. A man who has the general character of being an artful, intriguing office-seeker, has no chance with them. They are perhaps a little prejudiced against cities and city people. If they ever have anything to do with a lawyer, they go to one who has been bred in the country, and one who was in early life a farmer. They think, and think justly, that while this rustic breeding gives a man an habitually honest and plain turn of mind, it also renders him more knowing, sagacious, and favorable in his feelings in respect to country people. I cannot better close this sketch than by introducing some lines which are much esteemed in the village of Economy; every man, woman and child knows them by heart. “Let order o’er your time preside, And method all your business guide. Early begin, and end, your toil; Nor let great tasks your hands embroil. One thing at once be still begun, Contrived, resolved, pursued, and done. Hire not, for what yourselves can do; And send not, when yourselves can go; Nor till to-morrow’s light delay What might as well be done to-day. By steady efforts all men thrive, And long by moderate labor live; While eager toil and anxious care, Health, strength, and peace, and life impair. “Nor think a life of toil severe; No life has blessings so sincere. Its meals are luscious, sleep so sweet, Such vigorous limbs, such health complete; No mind so active, brisk, and gay, As his who toils the livelong day. A life of sloth drags hardly on; Suns set too late, and rise too soon; Youth, manhood, age, all linger slow, To him who nothing has to do. The drone, a nuisance to the hive, Stays, but can scarce be said to live; And well the bees, those judges wise, Plague, chase, and sting him till he dies.