"No," I said; "I have worked on the open-hearth furnaces a little. But before that I spent about two years in the army."
"Me in Austrian army," he said musingly, "fifteen year ago. Sergeant artillery."
I thought about that, and it occurred to me that he retained something of the artillery sergeant still, necessarily adapted a little to the exigencies of American blast-stoves. I found he knew about ordnance, and boasted of Budapest cannon-makers.
"How do you like this country?" I asked.
"America, all right," he said.
"Good country?" I pushed him a little.
"Mak' money America," he explained; "no good live. Old country fine place live."
We developed that a little. We discussed cities. He asked me about London and Paris, and other European cities. Which did I like best, cities over there or American cities? I said American cities. He asked what was the difference. I thought a minute, comparing New York and London. European cities did not have the impressive forty-story edifices of American, and looked puny with four or five.
"Ah," he said, "tall buildings no look good. Budapest good city, no can build over five story."