a travelling lord. You never
see him in anybody else's company.

A favourite remark of his is: 'The Americans one meets in Europe make me
feel ashamed of my country and of my compatriots.'

How I do prefer to that American snob the good American who has never
left the States, and who is perfectly convinced that America is the only
country fit for a free man to live in--God's own country! At any rate,
he is a good patriot, proud of his motherland. I even prefer to him that
American (often to be met abroad) who damns everything in Europe; who
prefers the Presbyterian church of his little city to Notre Dame,
Westminster Abbey, and the cathedrals of Rouen, Cologne, and Milan; who
thinks that England is such a tight little island that he is afraid of
going out at night for fear of falling into the water; who thinks that
French politeness and manners are much overrated, and who, when being
asked if he likes French cuisine, replies: 'No; nor their cookery
either.'

I love the man who sees only things to admire in his mother and his own
country; and in America that man has his choice--_une abondance de
biens_.

CHAPTER XXVII

PATIENCE--AN AMERICAN TRAIT

For power of endurance, give me the Americans. They are angels of
patience. The best illustration is what they can put up with at their
Custom House when they return home. Foreigners are more leniently dealt
with, but if the American and his wife return from a trip to Europe and
have with them twelve trunks and ten bags, these twelve trunks and ten
bags have to be opened and thoroughly searched, and that although the
said American has already signed a paper that he has nothing dutiable
with him.

In every civilized nation of the world, there is a Custom House officer
to inquire of the foreign visitor or the returning native whether he has
anything to declare. He is not required to sign anything. He is asked
the question on presenting himself with his baggage.

Never more than one piece of luggage is opened, and when the owner is a
lady alone she is allowed to pass without having anything opened,
unless, of course, she appears to be a suspicious character.

Everywhere in Europe any decent-looking man or woman who declares that
he or she has nothing dutiable has one piece of luggage examined and no
more. But in America not only is every trunk, every bag, opened, but
everything in it most searchingly examined.

'Have you worn this?' says the man.

I knew a g