has Germany; we have Russia; for Italy, Austria is provided; and
the humblest Pathan possesses an ancestral enemy. Only America stands
out of the racket; and therefore, to be in fashion, makes a sand-bag of
the mother-country, and bangs her when occasion requires. "The chain of
fortresses" man, a fascinating talker, explained to me after the affair
that he was compelled to blow off steam. Everybody expected it. When we
had chanted "The Star-Spangled Banner" not more than eight times, we
adjourned. America is a very great country, but it is not yet Heaven
with electric lights and plush fittings, as the speakers professed to
believe. My listening mind went back to the politicians in the saloon
who wasted no time in talking about freedom, but quietly made
arrangements to impose their will on the citizens. "The Judge is a great
man, but give thy presents to the Clerk," as the proverb saith.

And what more remains to tell? I cannot write connectedly, because I am
in love with all those girls aforesaid and some others who do not
appear in the invoice. The type-writer girl is an institution of which
the comic papers make much capital, but she is vastly convenient. She
and a companion rent a room in a business quarter, and copy manuscript
at the rate of six annas a page. Only a woman can manage a type-writing
machine, because she has served apprenticeship to the sewing-machine.
She can earn as much as a hundred dollars a month, and professes to
regard this form of bread-winning as her natural destiny. But oh how she
hates it in her heart of hearts! When I had got over the surprise of
doing business and trying to give orders to a young woman of coldly
clerkly aspect, intrenched behind gold-rimmed spectacles, I made
inquiries concerning the pleasures of this independence. They liked
it--indeed, they did. 'Twas the natural fate of almost all girls,--the
recognised custom in America,--and I was a barbarian not to see it in
that light.

"Well, and after?" said I. "What happens?"

"We work for our bread."

"And then what do you expect?"

"Then we shall work for our bread."

"Till you die?"

"Ye-es--unless--"

"Unless what? A man works till he dies."

"So shall we." This without enthusiasm--"I suppose."

Said the partner in the firm audaciously: "Sometimes we marry our
employers--at least that's what the newspapers say." The hand banged on
half a dozen of the keys of the machine at once. "Yes, I don't care. I
hate it--I