But when the lieutenant--such a big,brave,gentle giant--rose to his feet,he delivered what seemed to me as the speech of the evening.I remember nearly the whole of it,and it ran some-thing in this way:--"Gentlemen--It's very good of you to give me this dinner and to tell me all these prettythings,but what I want you to understand--the fact is,what we want and what we ought to get at once,is a navy--more ships--lots of 'em--"Then we howled the top of the roof off,and I for one fell in love with Carlin on the spot.Wallah!He was a man.
The prince among merchants bid me take no heed to the warlike sentiments of some of the old generals.
"The sky-rockets are thrown in for effect,"quoth he,"and whenever we get on our hind legs we always express a desire to chaw up England.It's a sort of family affair."And,indeed,when you come to think of it,there is no other country for the American public speaker to trample upon.
France has Germany;we have Russia;for Italy Austria is provided;and the humblest Pathan possesses an ancestral enemy.
Only America stands out of the racket,and there-fore to be in fashion makes a sand-bag of the mother country,and hangs her when occasion requires.
"The chain of fortresses"man,a fascinating talker,explained to me after the affair that he was compelled to blow off steam.
Everybody expected it.
When we had chanted "The Star Spangled Banner"not more than eight times,we adjourned.America is a very great country,but it is not yet heaven,with electric lights and plush fittings,as the speakers professed to believe.My listening mind went back to the politicians in the saloon,who wasted no time in talking about *******,but quietly made arrangements to impose their will on the citizens.
"The judge is a great man,but give thy presents to the clerk,"as the proverb saith.
And what more remains to tell?I cannot write connectedly,because I am in love with all those girls aforesaid,and some others who do not appear in the invoice.The typewriter is an in-stitution of which the comic papers make much capital,but she is vastly convenient.She and a companion rent a room in a business quarter,and,aided by a typewriting machine,copy MSS.
at the rate of six annas a page.Only a woman can operate a typewriting machine,because she has served apprenticeship to the sewing machine.She can earn as much as one hundred dollars a month,and professes to regard this form of bread-winning as her natural destiny.But,oh!how she hates it in her heart of hearts!When I had got over the surprise of doing business with and trying to give orders to a young woman of coldly,clerkly aspect intrenched behind gold-rimmed spectacles,I made inquiries concerning the pleasures of this independence.They liked it--indeed they did.'Twas the natural fate of almost all girls--the recognized custom in America--and I was a barbarian not to see it in that light.
"Well,and after?"said I."What happens?"
"We work for our bread."
"And then what do you expect?"
"Then we shall work for our bread."
"Till you die?"
"Ye-es--unless--"
"Unless what?This is your business,you know.A man works until he dies.""So shall we"--this without enthusiasm--"I suppose."Said the partner in the firm,audaciously:--"Sometimes we marry our employees--at least,that's what the newspapers say."The hand banged on half a dozen of the keys of the machine at once."Yet I don't care.I hate it--I hate it--I hate it--and you needn't look so!"The senior partner was regarding the rebel with grave-eyed reproach.
"I thought you did,"said I."I don't suppose American girls are much different from English ones in instinct.""Isn't it Theophile Gautier who says that the only difference between country and country lie in the slang and the uniform of the police?"Now,in the name of all the gods at once,what is one to say to a young lady (who in England would be a person)who earns her own bread,and very naturally hates the employ,and slings out-of-the-way quotations at your head?That one falls in love with her goes without saying,but that is not enough.
A mission should be established.
