Mr. COOPER is not less unmincing in his consideration of, and remarks upon, _things_, than he is in relation to usages and men. He says the houses in New-York and Boston are generally better furnished, (though not so profusely,) than those of the English; that New-York is a better town for eating and drinking, than London; and, save that our tables are invariably too narrow, they are better served with porcelain, glass, cutlery, and table-linen, than are those of our British metropolitan neighbors. He is in no extacies at Westminster Abbey, nor the Tower; he condemns the pinched and mean towers of the former, and considers the latter quite inferior to the donjon at Vincennes, or the Tower of Paris. Half the brilliants here exhibited in the crown, he has no doubt, are paste! Windsor he thinks far beneath Versailles, and hardly worthy the name of a palace, greatly lacking magnificence, although not without a certain pleasing quaintness and picturesque beauty; yet exhibiting in the state apartments, which are far inferior to the French, 'such vulgarisms as silver' andirons, and other puerilities.' The London bridges are out of proportion, too heavy for the stream they span, and quite unnecessarily solid. Moreover, American women, in all except the shoulders and bust, possess more beauty than the English women, and their complexion and features will better bear a close examination; while our men, too, he believes, are taller than the mass in England, English travellers to the contrary notwithstanding. In his pungent remarks upon society and manners in England, Mr. COOPER seems to have been impelled, by considerations mainly personal, to praise or condemn. And we cannot resist the impression, that he is himself, with all his _amor patriæ_, a marked exception to the mass of Americans, who, he says, 'care no more for a lord than for a wood-chuck.' Titled personages are lugged in, on almost every page of his work. Lord This, Lord That, and Lord T'other, are as plenty as blackberries; and not an earl or a duke, who can by any possibility be alluded to, but is compelled to do duty in confirming the somewhat questionable hypothesis, that 'a man is _always_ known by the company he keeps;' and if there be a chance to establish a remote connection between any member of the writer's family, and the 'nobility or gentry,' the opportunity is eagerly embraced, no matter how awkward the _modus operandi_. This penchant is in miserable taste; and we venture to say, will counterbalance, by way of example, whole pages of most unexceptionable precept.