“I do not care much about politics,” replied I.

“You don’t?” said he. “Why, then, do you stay in the country?”

“Cannot you imagine a man to have any other business but politics?”

“Oh, certainly, sir! a man may be a merchant, a doctor, or a tradesman; but, I mean, how do you amuse yourself? I for my part should go mad if I had not politics to divert myself.” (With pride,) “I need not be a politician, thank God! I have money enough without it; but I love politics on account of the pleasure they give me. I glory in them! There is such fun in being on the side that beats. One hundred and fifty guns, sir, are to be fired from Albany to New York, and from New York back again to Albany, in honour of our last victory. Where is the pleasure to be compared to that, sir? To carry a whole State ‘smack, smooth, and no mistake!’”

“But it must be very annoying to be beaten.”

“That never occurs to me, sir. I never stay long with the beaten party. If you study our politics, you will always find that our most ‘talented men’ desert a party just before it is going to break up. We always like to be on the conquering side. That’s the way to ‘get along’ in this country, sir, if you want to be a politician. But is there no bell in this room? I’ll see how long it will take to raise a waiter.”

“What do you want, sir?” grinned a negro almost instantaneously.

“Some brandy and water and half-a-dozen cigars: I am going to write an article.”

“Then I do not wish to disturb you,” said I, grateful for an opportunity of escaping from the room.

Scarcely was I half an hour down in the reading-room before a huge bell rang for supper. I expected, as usual, a rush into the dining-hall; but was much surprised in perceiving the quiet gentlemanly manner in which every one took his seat. The supper was excellent, and, what is more, it was well served. I began to perceive that I had fallen into good hands, and was only sorry that an establishment in every respect so unexceptionable should have adopted the vexatious custom of having the roll of travellers called by the bar-keeper, in the manner of some surly sergeant, before accommodating them with a room. A great deal of unpleasant feeling arises from mere mistakes in forms, which may easily be corrected by a little attention to the usages of the world, and which, therefore, cannot be sufficiently recommended to innkeepers.