Sometimes he would take out his
note-book and make believe he was respectfully taking notes on some
especially happy passages from these enlightening conversations. And
at the same time he would say to me in Russian:

"He is deeply convinced that America is the best country in the world,
Illinois is the best State in America, the street he lives on is the
best street in his city, and his house the best house on the street.
Now he is trying to persuade me that Chicago outgrew New York long ago
and is now the first city in the world. Wait a minute ... there comes
another one. That one is a New Yorker." He stopped the gentleman who
was passing by and proceeded to introduce them to each other:

"Mr. Jackson of Illinois, Mr. Carson of New York."

Then in the naive tone of a person, somewhat perplexed, he asked:

"You told me that New York is the first city in the world. And here is
Mr. Jackson who asserts that for the last ten years Chicago has
outstripped New York in population. According to him Chicago has so
many million inhabitants."

My companion leaned back slightly in his arm-chair and looked with
obvious curiosity at the two Americans.

"Presently we shall have a cock-fight," he said to me in Russian, and
a mocking twitch appeared beneath his moustache.

Mr. Carson straightened up. His eyebrows lifted impatiently but
immediately his face took on an expression of polite calm, and
slightly tipping his hat, he said: "It is very possible ... the
gentleman evidently includes the population of the cemeteries of
Chicago."

He bowed and resumed his walking, leaving Mr. Jackson aghast with
mouth wide-open, speechless, for he had not time to protest. Then he
got up quickly and walked along the deck.... My companion followed him
with his smiling eyes....

"Perfect parrots," he said. "Petty patriotism, in its most naive
form.... Dickens long ago noticed that trait of American character and
so it goes on." My sly countryman skilfully interviewed his victim,
disclosing step by step the ludicrous traits of a Yankee. There were
many weak sides. Mr. Jackson, in whom we were mainly interested,
proved to be a mediocre person in all respects, with a naively
middle-class outlook on life, and we, the two Russian observers,
revelled in that delightful malice which is so characteristic of
Russians abroad. So that is what they are, the far-famed children of
the transatlantic republic!

Sometime later, I again found my companion