as the tippler in all probability
did not rest satisfied with one glass, so I feel a morbid craving to
write as many volumes on America, as there are kinds of drinks at the
bar of a big New York hotel. If such volumes, full of pleasant memories,
are destined never to appear, it will only be because publishers are,
perhaps providentially, placed as protecting buffers between the public
and the author. A few chapters may, however, possibly be allowed to
pass, so I let them take their chance.

"Dis moi qui tu hantes, et je te dirai qui tu es," says the French
proverb, which, freely translated, might be made to say: "Tell me whom
you knew in America, and I will tell you what you thought of the
country." Well, I think I knew just the right people, and from that you
can gather what my impressions were. I certainly started fair, equipped
as I was with a batch of letters of introduction. These, according to
American usage, I posted to their addresses, and then sat in state at a
given time, waiting for the friends of my friends to come and make
friends with me. One letter, however, I carefully kept, and only showed
to those who I thought would appreciate it. It was that best and kindest
of men, Robert Browning, who had given it me, and to this day, when I
read it, it seems more like music than like epistolary prose to me. It
ran thus:--

"19 WARWICK CRESCENT, W.,

_11th August 1884_.

"To whomsoever it may concern.

"I have received such extraordinary kindness from Americans, and
number so many of them among my friends, that it would seem
invidious if I selected those whom I ventured to believe would
oblige me were it possible. I shall therefore say, in the simplest
of words, that should my dear friend, the Painter Moscheles, meet
with any individual whose sympathy I have been privileged to
obtain, whatever favour and assistance may be rendered to him, or
his charming wife, will constitute one more claim to the gratitude
of

ROBERT BROWNING."

One of my first visitors was Dr. Fordyce Barker, the eminent physician,
and more particularly the idol of the fair sex, which owes him so large
a debt of gratitude. He ignored the given time above mentioned, and,
calling at some unearthly hour before I was fairly presentable, he was
away again before I could find my boots.

"What have you come to America for?" was his first shot. The question
coming suddenly u