easures of life, and by her
keen powers of observation and her native adaptability to fit herself
for all the conditions of life; an exquisite mixture of a coquette
without affectation and a blue-stocking without spectacles or
priggishness; the only woman, however beautiful and learned she may be,
with whom man feels perfectly at his ease--a sort of fascinating good
fellow, retaining all the best attributes of womanhood.

Now, if this should sound like an outburst of enthusiasm, please excuse
me. I owe to American women such pleasant, never-to-be-forgotten hours
that on merely hearing the mention of the American woman I take off my
hat.

Of all the women in the world, the American woman is the one who
receives the best attentions at the hands of men. The Frenchman, it is
true, is the slave of his womankind, but he expects her to be his
thorough partner--I mean, to share with him his labours as well as his
pleasures. The American man is the most devoted and hard-working
husband in the world. The poor, dear fellow! He works, and he works,
and he works, and the beads of perspiration from his brow crystallize
in the shape of diamonds all over the ears, the fingers and the neck of
his interesting womankind.

He invites her to share his pleasures, but he saves her the trouble of
sharing his anxieties. The burden of life from seven in the morning
till seven in the evening rests on his shoulders alone.

Yet, in spite of all this, I have seldom discovered in American women
the slightest trace of gratitude to men. The American woman expects a
triumphal arch to be erected over each doorway through which she has to
pass--and she gets it.

Well, she deserves it.

Almost throughout the length and breadth of the United States, you hear
of women seeking to extend the sphere of their influence, women
dissatisfied with their lot. But there is no satisfying spoiled
children. If they see the moon reflected in a pail of water, they must
have it.

I am perfectly convinced that the American woman has secured for
herself the best, the softest berth that it was possible to secure in
this world.

Let me finish by repeating an exclamation I uttered after my first
visit to the United States, twelve years ago: 'If I could choose my sex
and my birthplace, I would shout to the Almighty at the top of my
voice: "Oh, please make me an American woman!"'

CHAPTER XXIV

THE AMERICAN WOMAN--II

She walks first, Jonathan behind her-