him as a lost man. I am
surprised at his writing to me."

It is quite likely I was wrong, knowing nothing of the usages of society
in England. I thought this reception of me downright rude. I had laid my
hat on a chair; I took it up in my hand again, and delivered a parting
shot at the brute with the oily whiskers.

"If I had known what you now tell me," I said, "I should not have
troubled you by presenting that letter. Good morning."

This didn't in the least offend him. A curious smile broke out on his
face; it widened his eyes, and it twitched up his mouth at one corner.
He held out his hand to stop me. I waited, in case he felt bound to make
an apology. He did nothing of the sort--he only made a remark.

"You are young and hasty," he said. "I may lament my friend's
extravagances, without failing on that account in what is due to an
old friendship. You are probably not aware that we have no sympathy in
England with Socialists."

I hit him back again. "In that case, sir, a little Socialism in England
would do you no harm. We consider it a part of our duty as Christians
to feel sympathy with all men who are honest in their convictions--no
matter how mistaken (in our opinion) the convictions may be." I rather
thought I had him there; and I took up my hat again, to get off with the
honours of victory while I had the chance.

I am sincerely ashamed of myself, Rufus, in telling you all this.
I ought to have given him back "the soft answer that turneth away
wrath"--my conduct was a disgrace to my Community. What evil influence
was at work in me? Was it the air of London? or was it a possession of
the devil?

He stopped me for the second time--not in the least disconcerted by what
I had said to him. His inbred conviction of his own superiority to a
young adventurer like me was really something magnificent to witness. He
did me justice--the Philistine-Pharisee did me justice! Will you believe
it? He made his remarks next on my good points, as if I had been a young
bull at a prize cattle show.

"Excuse me for noticing it," he said. "Your manners are perfectly
gentlemanlike, and you speak English without any accent. And yet you
have been brought up in America. What does it mean?"

I grew worse and worse--I got downright sulky now.

"I suppose it means," I answered, "that some of us, in America,
cultivate ourselves as well as our land. We have our books and music,
though you seem to think we only have our axes and s