probably never be carried out. I am therefore forced to take the
subject in its present condition, and being so forced I must write
of the war, of the causes which have led to it, and of its probable
termination. But I wish it to be understood that it was not my
selected task to do so, and is not now my primary object.

Thirty years ago my mother wrote a book about the Americans, to
which I believe I may allude as a well-known and successful work
without being guilty of any undue family conceit. That was
essentially a woman's book. She saw with a woman's keen eye, and
described with a woman's light but graphic pen, the social defects
and absurdities which our near relatives had adopted into their
domestic life. All that she told was worth the telling, and the
telling, if done successfully, was sure to produce a good result.
I am satisfied that it did so. But she did not regard it as a part
of her work to dilate on the nature and operation of those
political arrangements which had produced the social absurdities
which she saw, or to explain that though such absurdities were the
natural result of those arrangements in their newness, the defects
would certainly pass away, while the political arrangements, if
good, would remain. Such a work is fitter for a man than for a
woman, I am very far from thinking that it is a task which I can
perform with satisfaction either to myself or to others. It is a
work which some man will do who has earned a right by education,
study, and success to rank himself among the political sages of his
age. But I may perhaps be able to add something to the familiarity
of Englishmen with Americans. The writings which have been most
popular in England on the subject of the United States have
hitherto dealt chiefly with social details; and though in most
cases true and useful, have created laughter on one side of the