and indulged our national weakness for hearing ourselves praised, so as
to make sure of a warm reception for your book."

"No doubt," I replied, "by writing a flattering book on any country, you
would greatly increase your chance of a large sale in that country; but,
on the other hand, you may write an abusive book on any country and
score a great success among that nation's neighbors. For my part, I have
always gone my own quiet way, philosophizing rather than opinionating,
and when I write, it is not with the aim of pleasing any particular
public. I note down what I see, say what I think, and people may read me
or not, just as they please. But I think I may boast, however, that my
pen is never bitter, and I do not care to criticise unless I feel a
certain amount of sympathy with the subject of my criticism. If I felt
that I could only honestly say hard things of people, I would always
abstain altogether."

"Now," said my fair questioner, "how is it that you have so little to
say about our Fifth Avenue folks? Is it because you have seen very
little of them, or is it because you could only have said hard things of
them?"

"On the contrary," I replied; "I saw a good deal of them, but what I saw
showed me that to describe them would be only to describe polite
society, as it exists in London and elsewhere. Society gossip is not in
my line; boudoir and club smoking-room scandal has no charm for me.
Fifth Avenue resembles too much Mayfair and Belgravia to make criticism
of it worth attempting."

I knew this answer would have the effect of putting me into the lady's
good graces at once, and I was not disappointed. She accorded to me her
sweetest smile, as I bowed to her to go and be introduced to another
lady by the mistress of the house.

[Illustration: FIFTH AVENUE FOLK.]

The next lady was a Bostonian. I had to explain to her why I had not
spoken of Beacon Street people, using the same argument as in the case
of Fifth Avenue society, and with the same success.

* * * * *

At the same "At Home," I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Blank, whom I
had met many times in London and Paris.

She is one of the crowd of pretty and clever women whom America sends to
brighten up European society, and who reappear in London and Paris with
the regularity of the swallows. You meet them everywhere, and conclude
that they must be married, since they are styled Mrs. and not Miss. But
whether they are