away, is at least becoming so rapidly modified as to afford a theme for grave reflections to those who have learned how to appreciate its value.  As any far-reaching change in the condition of landed property in England, due to agricultural causes, might seriously affect the position of one of the noblest and most useful aristocracies that has ever existed; so, on the other hand, as we consider the possible action of similar causes upon the personnel and upon the occupations of rural New England, we are unwillingly forced to contemplate the possibility of a deterioration in the character of the most perfect democracy the world has ever seen.

In the outward aspect of a village in Massachusetts or Connecticut, the feature which would be most likely first to impress itself upon the mind of a visitor from England is the manner in which the village is laid out and built.  Neither in England nor anywhere else in western Europe have I ever met with a village of the New England type.  In English villages one finds small houses closely crowded together, sometimes in blocks of ten or a dozen, and inhabited by people belonging to the lower orders of society; while the fine houses of gentlemen stand quite apart in the country, perhaps out of sight of one another, and surrounded by very extensive grounds.  The origin of the village, in a mere aggregation of tenants of the lord of the manor, is thus vividly suggested.  In France one is still more impressed, I think, with this closely packed structure of the village.  In the New England village, on the other hand, the finer and the poorer houses stand side by side along the road.  There are wide straight streets overarched with spreading elms and maples, and on either side stand the houses, with little green lawns in front, called in rustic parlance “door-yards.”  The finer houses may stand a thousand feet apart from their neighbours on either side, while between the poorer ones there may be intervals of from twenty to one hundred feet, but they are never found crowded together in blocks.  Built in this capacious fashion, a village of a thousand inhabitants may have a main street more than a mile in length, with half a dozen crossing streets losing themselves gradually in long stretches of country road.  The finest houses are not ducal palaces, but may be compared with the ordinary country-houses of gentlemen in England.  The poorest houses are never hovels, such as one sees in the Scotch Highlands.  The picturesque and cosy cottage at Shottery, where Shakespeare used to do his courting, will serve very well as a sample of the humblest sort of old-fashioned New England farm-house.  But most of the dwellings in the village come between these extremes.  They are plain neat wooden houses, in capaciousness more like villas than cottages.  A New England village street, laid out in this way, is usually very picturesque and beautiful, and it is highly characteristic.  In comparing it with things in Europe, where one rarely finds anything