men for women, and the mild contempt of
women for men?

Very often, in New York, when I had time to saunter about, I would go up
Broadway and wait until a car, well crammed with people, came along.
Then I would jump on board and stand near the door. Whenever a man
wanted to get out, he would say to me "Please," or "Excuse me," or just
touch me lightly to warn me that I stood in his way. But the women! Oh,
the women! why, it was simply lovely. They would just push me away with
the tips of their fingers, and turn up such disgusted and haughty noses!
You would have imagined it was a heap of dirty rubbish in their way.

* * * * *

Would you have a fair illustration of the respective positions of woman
in France, in England, and in America?

Go to a hotel, and watch the arrival of couples in the dining-room.

Now don't go to the Louvre, the Grand Hotel, or the Bristol, in Paris.
Don't go to the Savoy, the Victoria, or the Metropole, in London. Don't
go to the Brunswick, in New York, because in all these hotels you will
see that all behave alike. Go elsewhere and, I say, watch.

In France, you will see the couples arrive together, walk abreast toward
the table assigned to them, very often arm in arm, and smiling at each
other--though married.

[Illustration: IN FRANCE.]

In England, you will see John Bull leading the way. He does not like to
be seen eating in public, and thinks it very hard that he should not
have the dining-room all to himself. So he enters, with his hands in
his pockets, looking askance at everybody right and left. Then, meek and
demure, with her eyes cast down, follows Mrs. John Bull.

[Illustration: IN ENGLAND.]

In America, behold the dignified, nay, the majestic entry of Mrs.
Jonathan, a perfect queen going toward her throne, bestowing a glance on
her subjects right and left--and Jonathan behind!

[Illustration: IN AMERICA.]

They say in France that Paris is the paradise of women. If so, there is
a more blissful place than paradise; there is another word to invent to
give an idea of the social position enjoyed by American ladies.

If I had to be born again, and might choose my sex and my birthplace, I
would shout at the top of my voice:

"Oh, make me an American woman!"

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIII.

MORE ABOUT JOURNALISM IN AMERICA--A DINNER AT DELMONICO'S--MY FIRST
APPEARANCE IN AN AMERICAN CHURCH.

_New York, Sunday Night, Janua