t lass ze Marquis he call for his bill, and he goes
for to leave ze hotel. Zen ze landlord he comes to ze door, and he bows,
and he smiles, and he robs his hands togezzer, and says he:

'Musshoe ze Markiss, _bone voyyaidge_;' (you see he spiks ze French var'
bad;) 'I hope you have been satisfy wiz my ho-tel?'

Zen ze Marquis smiles var' moch pleasaunt, and viz ze air off grand
seigneur he lokes down on ze landlord and spiks slowlee:

'Ze eat is var' good, ze sleep is not so var' bad, bote I 'ave notice
one sing--zere is entairely TOO MOCHE LANDLORD!'

In American hotels, as strangers declare, unless one be acquainted, the
complaint is apt to be of too _little_ landlord. Then--oh, _then_, 'all
goes as it does with a divinity in France,' as the European proverb hath
it--that is to say, very Paradisiacally indeed. Which reminds us of a
letter on the coming of the Millennium, from a friend who declares it to
be his conviction that those who are afraid of the immediate realization
of this consummation devoutly to be wished for, may lay aside their
apprehensions, since it is evident that nothing of the kind is to come
off _this_ year at least.

'Of which, dear CONTINENTAL friend, there can be no doubt, albeit there
may be somewhat pity. For I have lang syne awaited a millennium and a
golden age, and, when FERNANDO WOOD was kicked out of the mayoralty into
Coventry, hailed it as the beginning. Now, however, the old serpent
lifts his head--Fernando has gone to Congress, and the devil is let
loose again for a little season--to give seasoning by his sin to the
great sea of gruel of excessive virtue with which the world is
inundated. Oh for the wings of a dove, to be 'out of this'--cut loose
from all such 'carryin's on,' and fairly calm in some silent Lubberland
or Atlantis fairy realm of peace!

'Where, with glasses ever clinking,
The gentles, ever drinking
To their lady loves in winking,
Cry aloud _in jubilo_;
And the jolly plump old president
Calls out to every resident,
And, when they answer, says he meant
To pledge _in gaudio_:

'Where the bells all day are ringing,
Where the world is ever singing,
And the roasted ducks fly winging
Their way into your mouth:
Where doors are never banging,
Where tongues are never clanging,
Where the peach and grape while hanging
Turn _all_ sides toward the south:

'Where you find no foolish fussing,
Where you hear no