In the Southern ones, he is a mulatto or a black; but white or black, he
is always a magnificent specimen of his race. There is not a ghost of a
savor of the serving man about him; no whiskers and shaven upper lips
reminding you of the waiters of the Old World; but always a fine
mustache, the twirling of which helps to give an air of _nonchalant_
superiority to its wearer. The mulatto head-waiters in the South really
look like dusky princes. Many of them are so handsome and carry
themselves so superbly that you find them very impressive at first and
would fain apologize to them. You feel as if you wanted to thank them
for kindly condescending to concern themselves about anything so
commonplace as your seat at table.

[Illustration: "SHE IS CROWNED WITH A GIGANTIC MASS OF FRIZZLED HAIR."]

In smaller hotels, the waiters are all waitresses. The "waiting" is done
by damsels entirely--or rather by the guests of the hotel.

If the Southern head waiter looks like a prince, what shall we say of
the head-waitress in the East, the North, and the West? No term short of
queenly will describe her stately bearing as she moves about among her
bevy of reduced duchesses. She is evidently chosen for her appearance.
She is "divinely tall," as well as "most divinely fair," and, as if to
add to her importance, she is crowned with a gigantic mass of frizzled
hair. All the waitresses have this coiffure. It is a livery, as caps are
in the Old World; but instead of being a badge of servitude it looks,
and is, alarmingly emancipated--so much so that, before making close
acquaintance with my dishes, I always examine them with great care. A
beautiful mass of hair looks lovely on the head of a woman, but _one_ in
your soup, even if it had strayed from the tresses of your beloved one,
would make the corners of your mouth go down, and the tip of your nose
go up.

A regally handsome woman always "goes well in the landscape," as the
French say, and I have seen specimens of these waitresses so handsome
and so commanding-looking that, if they cared to come over to Europe and
play the queens in London pantomimes, I feel sure they would command
quite exceptional prices, and draw big salaries and crowded houses.

* * * * *

The thing which strikes me most disagreeably, in the American hotel
dining-room, is the sight of the tremendous waste of food that goes on
at every meal. No European, I suppose, can fail to be struck