in Germany. We have not got to Russia yet.

Paris seems a city of leisure, Berlin a city of war. The streets of
Paris are quite as full of soldiers as Berlin, but French soldiers
look to me like mechanical toys. I have sent Billy a box of them for
Christmas--of mechanical soldiers, I mean. The chief difference I
noticed was that Billy's were smaller than the live ones, although
French soldiers are small enough. That portion of the French army
which I have seen--at Longchamps, Chalons-sur-Marne, Saumur, and at
various other places--are, as a rule, undersized, badly dressed, and
badly groomed. They do not look neat, nor even clean, if you want the
truth. The uniform is very ugly, and was evidently designed for men
thirteen feet high; so that on those comical little toy Frenchmen it
is grotesque in the extreme.

Their trousers are always much too long, and so ample in width that
they seem to need only a belt at the ankle to turn them into perfect
Russian blouses. But English and German soldiers not only appear, but
_are_, in perfect condition, as though they could go to war at a
moment's notice, and would be glad of the chance.

I am keeping my eyes open to see how America bears comparison with
other nations in all particulars. In point of appearance the English
army stands first, the German second, the American third, and the
French fourth. I put the American third only because our uniforms are
less impressive. In everything else, except in numbers, they might
easily stand first. But uniforms and gold lace, and bright scarlet and
waving plumes, make a vast difference in appearance, and every country
in the world recognizes this, except America. I wish that everybody in
the United States who boasts of democracy and Jeffersonian simplicity
could share my dissatisfaction in seeing our ambassadors at Court
balls and diplomatic receptions in deacons' suits of modest black,
without even a medal or decoration of any kind, except perhaps that
gorgeous and overpowering insignia known as the Loyal Legion button,
while every little twopenny kingdom of a mile square sends a
representative in a uniform as brilliant as a peony and stiff with
gold embroidery.

No matter how magnificent a man, personally, our ambassador may be, no
matter how valuable his public services, no matter how unimpeachable
his private character, I wish you could see how small and miserable
and mean is the appearance he presents at Court functions, where ever