nie Lyonnaise in Paris with a stout
American lady, who insisted on tipping her chair forward on its front
legs as she selected some laces. Suddenly the chair flew from under her,
and she sat violently on the polished floor in an attitude so supremely
comic that the rest of her party were inwardly convulsed. Not a muscle
moved in the faces of the well-trained clerks. The proprietor assisted
her to rise as gravely as if he were bowing us to our carriage.

In restaurants American citizens are treated even worse than in the
shops. You will see cowed customers who are anxious to get away to their
business or pleasure sitting mutely patient, until a waiter happens to
remember their orders. I do not know a single establishment in this city
where the waiters take any notice of their customers' arrival, or where
the proprietor comes, toward the end of the meal, to inquire if the
dishes have been cooked to their taste. The interest so general on the
Continent or in England is replaced here by the same air of being
disturbed from more important occupations, that characterizes the shop-
girl and elevator boy.

Numbers of our people live apparently in awe of their servants and the
opinion of the tradespeople. One middle-aged lady whom I occasionally
take to the theatre, insists when we arrive at her door on my
accompanying her to the elevator, in order that the youth who presides
therein may see that she has an escort, the opinion of this subordinate
apparently being of supreme importance to her. One of our "gilded
youths" recently told me of a thrilling adventure in which he had
figured. At the moment he was passing under an awning on his way to a
reception, a gust of wind sent his hat gambolling down the block. "Think
what a situation," he exclaimed. "There stood a group of my friends'
footmen watching me. But I was equal to the situation and entered the
house as if nothing had happened!" Sir Walter Raleigh sacrificed a cloak
to please a queen. This youth abandoned a new hat, fearing the laughter
of a half-dozen servants.

One of the reasons why we have become so weak in the presence of our paid
masters is that nowhere is the individual allowed to protest. The other
night a friend who was with me at a theatre considered the acting
inferior, and expressed his opinion by hissing. He was promptly ejected
by a policeman. The man next me was, on the contrary, so pleased with
the piece that he encored every song. I h