ittle white jacket often
presents a most refreshing cleanliness of aspect as compared with the
greasy second-hand dress coats of the European waiter.

As a matter of fact, so much latitude is usually allowed for each meal
(breakfast from 8 to 11, dinner from 12 to 8, and so on) that it is
seldom really difficult to get something to eat at an American hotel
when one is hungry. At some hotels, however, the rules are very
strict, and nothing is served out of meal hours. At Newport I came in
one Sunday evening about 8 o'clock, and found that supper was over.
The manager actually allowed me to leave his hotel at once (which I
did) rather than give me anything to eat. The case is still more
absurd when one arrives by train, having had no chance of a square
meal all day, and is coolly expected to go to bed hungry! The genuine
democrat, however, may take what comfort he can from the thought that
this state of affairs is due to the independence of the American
servants, who have their regular hours and refuse to work beyond them.

The lack of smoking-rooms is a distinct weak point in American hotels.
One may smoke in the large public office, often crowded with loungers
not resident in the hotel, or may retire with his cigar to the
bar-room; but there is no pleasant little snuggery provided with
arm-chairs and smokers' tables, where friends may sit in pleasant,
nicotine-wreathed chat, ringing, when they want it, for a
whiskey-and-soda or a cup of coffee.

American hotels, even when otherwise good, are apt to be noisier than
European ones. The servants have little idea of silence over their
work, and the early morning chambermaids crow to one another in a way
that is very destructive of one's matutinal slumbers. Then somebody or
other seems to crave ice-water at every hour of the day or night, and
the tinkle, tinkle, tinkle of the ice-pitcher in the corridors becomes
positively nauseous when one wants to go to sleep. The innumerable
electric bells, always more or less on the go, are another auditory
nuisance.

While we are on the question of defects in American hotels, it should
be noticed that the comfortable little second-class inns of Great
Britain are practically unknown in the United States. The second-class
inns there are run on the same lines as the best ones; but in an
inferior manner at every point. The food is usually as abundant, but
it is of poorer quality and worse cooked; the beds are good enough,
but not so cle