ent to
get a view of this innovator, this outer barbarian! He was new to the
wondrous ways of the _Chillitonians_. In the same audience was a lady,
Irish and very charming, as I found out on later acquaintance, who
showed her appreciation from time to time by clapping the tips of her
fingers together noiselessly, while her glance said: "I should very much
like to applaud, but you know I can't do it; we are in Cheltenham, and
such a thing is bad form, especially in the afternoon."

[Illustration: THE GOUTY MAN.]

Afternoon audiences in the southern health resorts of England are
probably the least inspiriting and inspiring of all. There are the sick,
the lame, the halt. Some of them are very interesting people, but a
large proportion appear to be suffering more from the boredom of life
than any other complaint, and look as if it would do them good to
follow out the well-known advice, "Live on sixpence a day, and earn it."
It is hard work entertaining people who have done everything, seen
everything, tasted everything, been everywhere--people whose sole aim is
to kill time. A fair sprinkling are gouty. They spend most of their
waking hours in a bath-chair. As a listener, the gouty man is sometimes
decidedly funny. He gives signs of life from time to time by a vigorous
slap on his thigh and a vicious looking kick. Before I began to know
him, I used to wonder whether it was my discourse producing some effect
upon him.

I am not afraid of meeting these people in America. Few people are bored
here, all are happy to live, and all work and are busy. American men die
of brain fever, but seldom of the gout. If an American saw that he must
spend his life wheeled in a bath-chair, he would reflect that rivers are
numerous in America, and he would go and take a plunge into one of them.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIX.

WANDERINGS THROUGH NEW YORK--LECTURE AT THE HARMONIE CLUB--VISIT TO
THE CENTURY CLUB.

_New York, March 1._

The more I see New York, the more I like it.

After lunch I had a drive through Central Park and Riverside Park, along
the Hudson, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I returned to the Everett House
through Fifth Avenue. I have never seen Central Park in summer, but I
can realize how beautiful it must be when the trees are clothed. To have
such a park in the heart of the city is perfectly marvelous. It is true
that, with the exception of the superb Catholic Cathedral, Fifth Avenue
has no monumen