his latch-key; and I
have more than once been absolutely compelled to make a detour from
Broadway in order to find a crossing where the icy slush would not
come over the tops of my boots.[3] The American taste for luxury
sometimes insists on gratification even at the expense of the ordinary
decencies of life. It was an American who said, "Give me the luxuries
of life and I will not ask for the necessities;" and there is more
truth in this epigram, as characteristic of the American point of
view, than its author intended or would, perhaps, allow. In private
life this is seen in the preference shown for diamond earrings and
Paris toilettes over neat and effective household service. The
contrast between the slatternly, unkempt maid-servant who opens the
door to you and the general luxury of the house itself is sometimes of
the most startling, not to say appalling, description. It is not a
sufficient answer to say that good servants are not so easily obtained
in America as in England. This is true; but a slight rearrangement of
expenditure would secure much better service than is now seen. To the
English eye the cart in this matter often seems put before the horse;
and the combination of excellent waiting with a modest table equipage
is frequent enough in the United States to prove its perfect
feasibility.

In American hotels we are often overwhelmed with "all the discomforts
that money can procure," while unable to obtain some of those things
which we have been brought up to believe among the prime necessaries
of existence. It is significant that in the printed directions
governing the use of the electric bell in one's bedroom, I never found
an instance in which the harmless necessary bath could be ordered with
fewer than nine pressures of the button, while the fragrant cocktail
or some other equally fascinating but dangerous luxury might often be
summoned by three or four. The most elaborate dinner, served in the
most gorgeous china, is sometimes spoiled by the Draconian regulation
that it must be devoured between the unholy hours of twelve and two,
or have all its courses brought on the table at once. Though the
Americans invent the most delicate forms of machinery, their hoop-iron
knives, silver plated for facility in cleaning, are hardly calculated
to tackle anything harder than butter, and compel the beef-eater to
return to the tearing methods of his remotest ancestors. The waiter
sometimes rivals the hotel clerk him