Besides, if it is a soil fit to expel old prejudices, it is this new soil, now in possession of an old people as we stand in this country. Some writers, traveling through this country, supposed the americans a people of facts only, from whom fine arts, poetry, or literature cannot be expected; as if fine arts, poetry, and literature were not things of fact, as laws, government, or mechanical works. Man is an imitating being: honor an american Tasso, or an american Michæl Angelo, and instead of having too many, who aspire the presidency of the United States, you will have your Tassos, and your Michæl Angelos. That America has her artists, poets, and literati as well as England, France, Germany, or Italy, I have no doubt: but, if the genius does not flourish here as it does among the old nations, my purpose is now to demonstrate it. CHAPTER II. THE PRESENT FASHIONABLE LITERATURE IS UNWORTHY OF THIS GREAT NATION. I say it again; were the people encouraged to look back to standards of classical literature, so rich in all the languages of the old continent, this glorious, ambitious country, soon would have her Johnsons, her Rousseaus, her Dantes, her Machiavellis. But, the little which the americans read now, are but light works from the english press, here reprinted; contentions of parties, called politics; and american periodicals, praising each other: and these periodicals, having now the consideration of oracles in literature, keep under a contemptible silence many american geniuses, who were too independent to bend under the ruling will of any party. However, there are daily papers, as well as periodicals of my highest esteem: I mean only to say, here; monopoly can be found in every trade; and fashion, not only ruins the feet of chinese, and the shape of american ladies; fashion ruins also a National Literature.