offhand,
whether a certain eminent innkeeper had or had not had his way with his
customers in the matter not only of what they should eat or drink, but
what they should wear when dining in a place which has been described as
"supplying exclusiveness to the lower classes." It is not even certain
just how a crucial case was brought to the notice of this authority;
what is certain is that his instant judgment was that no white male
citizen frequenting his proud tavern should sit at dinner there unless
clothed in a dress-coat, or at least in the smoking-jacket known to us
as a Tuxedo; at breakfast or at luncheon, probably, the guest, the
paying guest, could sufficiently shine in the reflected glory of the
lustrous evening wear of the waiters. No sooner was the innkeeper's
judgment rendered than a keen thrill of resentment, or at least
amusement, ran through the general breast. From every quarter the
reporters hastened to verify the fact at first-hand, and then to submit
it to the keeper of every other eminent inn or eating-house in the city
and learn his usage and opinion. These to a man disavowed any such
hard-and-fast rule. Though their paying guests were ordinarily gentlemen
of such polite habits as to be incapable of dining in anything but a
dress-coat or a Tuxedo, yet their inns and eating-houses were not barred
against those who chose to dine in a frock or cutaway or even a sacque.
It is possible that the managers imagined themselves acquiring merit
with that large body of our vulgar who demand exclusiveness by their
avowal of a fine indifference or an enlightened tolerance in the matter.
But at this distance of time no one can confidently say how the incident
was closed with respect to the pre-eminent innkeeper and his proud
tavern. Whether the wayfarer, forced by the conditions of travel upon
the company of the exclusive vulgar, may now dine there in the public
banqueting-hall in his daytime raiment, or must take his evening meal in
his room, with a penalty in the form of an extra charge for service,
nowise appears.

What is apparent from the whole affair is that the old ideal of one's
inn, as a place where one shall take one's ease, has perished in the
evolution of the magnificent American hotel which we have been
maliciously seeking to minify in the image of its Old World germ. One
may take one's ease in one's hotel only if one is dressed to the mind of
the hotel-keeper, or perhaps finally the head waiter. But wha