erhaps one of the great social faults of the American is, that he does not amuse himself enough, at least in a cheerful, innocent manner. We are never jolly. We are terribly troubled about our dignity. All other nations, the French, the German, the Italian, and even the dull English, have their relaxation, their merry-making; but we—why, a political or prayer-meeting is about the most hilarious affair in which we ever indulge. The French peasant has his ducas almost every week, when in some rustic orchard, lighted with variegated lamps, ornamented