plate-glass windows, in which, with unceasing wonder, the natives
stared at reflections of their own persons. In the river there was a
private dry dock of the Woermanns, and along the wharfs for acres
was lumber for the Woermanns, boxes of trade goods, puncheons and
casks for the Woermanns, private cooper shops and private machine
shops and private banks for the Woermanns. The house flag of the
Woermanns became as significant as that of a reigning sovereign. One
felt inclined to salute it.

The success of the German merchant on the East Coast and over all
the world appears to be a question of character. He is patient,
methodical, painstaking; it is his habit of industry that is helping
him to close port after port to English, French, and American goods.
The German clerks do not go to the East Coast or to China and South
America to drink absinthe or whiskey, or to play dominoes or
cricket. They work twice as long as do the other white men, and
during those longer office hours they toil twice as hard. One of our
passengers was a German agent returning for his vacation. I used to
work in the smoking-room and he always was at the next table, also
at work, on his ledgers and account books. He was so industrious
that he bored me, and one day I asked him why, instead of spoiling
his vacation with work, he had not balanced his books before he left
the Coast.

"It is an error," he said; "I can not find him." And he explained
that in the record of his three years' stewardship, which he was to
turn over to the directors in Berlin, there was somewhere a mistake
of a sixpence.

"But," I protested, "what's sixpence to you? You drink champagne all
day. You begin at nine in the morning!"

"I drink champagne," said the clerk, "because for three years I have
myself alone in the bush lived, but, can I to my directors go with a
book not balanced?" He laid his hand upon his heart and shook his
head. "It is my heart that tells me 'No!'"

After three weeks he gave a shout, his face blushed with pleasure,
and actual tears were in his eyes. He had dug out the error, and at
once he celebrated the recovery of the single sixpence by giving me
twenty-four shillings' worth of champagne. It is a true story, and
illustrates, I think, the training and method of the German mind, of
the industry of the merchants who are trading over all the seas. As
a rule the "trade" goods "made in Germany" are "shoddy." They do not
compare in quality with thos