An immediate answer not being returned, he continued:
“Yes, gentlemen, a bottle of Madeira; at my expense, gentlemen, recollect that; now ring the bell.”
“I shall be most happy to take a glass of wine with you,” observed I, “but in my own room the wine must be at my expense.”
“At your expense, Captain; well, if it must be, I don’t care; at your expense then, Captain, if you say so; only, you see, we must show you a little American hospitality, as I said to them all down below; didn’t I, gentlemen?”
The wine was ordered, and it ended in my hospitable friends drinking three bottles, and then they all shook hands with me, declaring how happy they should be if I came to the town again, allowed them to show me a little more American hospitality.
There was something so very ridiculous in this event, that I cannot help narrating it; but let it not be supposed, for a moment, that I intend it as a sarcasm upon American hospitality in general. There certainly are conditions usually attached to their hospitality, if you wish to profit by it to any extent; and one is, that you do not venture to find fault with themselves, their manners, or their institutions.
Note—That a guest, partaking of their hospitality, should give his opinions unasked, and find fault, would be in very bad taste, to say the least of it. But the fault in America is, that you are compelled to give an opinion, and you cannot escape by a doubtful reply: as the American said to me in Philadelphia, “I wish a categorical answer.” Thus, should you not agree with them, you are placed upon the horns of a dilemma: either you must affront the company, or sacrifice truth.