I found, at first, letter writing a little difficult. One dictates everything and one must never forget to file one's letters. In business it is considered an awful thing to insult a person in a letter. Insult him to his face, by all means, if necessary; but never write rude things. I found it difficult to distrust firmly the intelligence of the person receiving the letter. Everything must be perfectly plain and you have to imagine that the person receiving the letter knows nothing about the subject. If writing a business letter to a friend I invariably became too personal. Cold blooded though polite things are business letters. They are immortal, too, and live in files for centuries and are liable to strike back at any moment like a boomerang. If you are insulting a third person it is always good to put before your more cutting statements, "In my opinion, I think." This will save you much trouble because it is taken that you are humble, and that your opinion is not worth very much. Nevertheless it will cause the person to whom you are writing to look into the matter, whereas if you say straight out, and crudely, that Jones is an entirely useless person or that Biggs is inefficient (it is better to say inadequate, since it means the same), the person receiving the letter will at once mutter, "Newspaper talk," and will forget the matter, although he may look into your own actions with a coldly discerning eye.
It seems to be different in the army where people write most unpleasant, suggestive things to one another. I don't think that they keep files so well in the army. However, I am learning fast and am very careful.
There are many wonderful contrivances over here for the saving of labour. They do not always save time, it is true, but many of them are useful, nevertheless. It is sometimes an interesting thing to see a fellow waiting several minutes for an elevator to take him down one flight of stairs. People seldom walk anywhere, as far as I can see; but this fact does not seem to affect the national physique which is usually splendid.
Quite large numbers of men wear spectacles, not your intellectual-looking gold-rimmed pince-nez, but great horn-rimmed goggles that certainly give a man a whimsical look. It all depends upon the appearance of the fellow. If he is thin and wiry these great goggles make him look like a polite tadpole. The theatrical folk realize this and in every comic show one of the comedians generally appears in these spectacles.
Desiring to use a swimming pool open only to the students of Lehigh University, I decided to take a course of lectures on metallurgy. I shuddered when I heard that these lectures took place from eight until nine A.M. How would one fit in breakfast? However, I arrived one Monday morning and found myself with twenty other fellows sitting at the feet of a large St. Bernard dog, and a very learned professor. I looked with interest at the men around me. They all seemed pale and haggard and "By Jove, these American students must work hard!" I thought. However, after several weeks I felt very much the same on Monday mornings, because many of the fellows became my friends and we spent our week ends together in fervent study at more than one extremely diverting country club. Perhaps, however, this is unfair.
The American university man is alleged to be a hard worker. He certainly has some very stiff examinations to pass. As a matter of fact, the man who desires to get on well in the business or intellectual world has to work jolly hard at the university over here. It is possible for a man, I have heard, to work his way through college without receiving a penny from his father. A fellow may even earn money by collecting laundry from his fellow students. The glorious part about this lies in the fact that his men friends do not supply him with kindly pity, but they sincerely admire him. If he is a good sort, that's all that matters.
As far as I can glean, the average American varsity man is a great hero worshiper. One is constantly meeting fellows who are regarded by their friends as regular "princes," and the thing that draws the greatest amount of admiration is well developed personality which in America is generally allied to kindliness. These "princes" are always humble, and invariably the same in their treatment of both ordinary people, and, what we called at Cambridge "rabbits" or undergraduates of the dormouse breed.
Sometimes people over here have pointed out to me that it is impossible for an undergraduate to work his way through our older universities. I have, of course, told them that while it would be very awkward to have a fellow undergraduate calling for one's soiled linen in England, still we had a way whereby a man could work his way through any university and especially the older ones. I told them that at my college there were always at least twenty men who received no money from home, but by comparatively hard work they were able to win scholarships and exhibitions. So that really things are much the same, the only difference lying in the fact that as our colleges are much older, people have had time to die in greater numbers and consequently there have been more bequests. I cannot say that I have had much opportunity to study the person called here a "lounge lizard." Like his brother in England, he at once joined up and is now learning to be a soldier.
I must admit that the American university man is very like his brother in England, just as irresponsible, just as charming and often possessed with the same firm determination to do as little work as possible under the circumstances. The only difference lies in the fact that after leaving college he is sucked into a whirlpool of exciting business and sometimes he finds himself floating down a strong flowing river of wealth wondering if it has really been worth while.
"You know how to live in England," they often say to me. "We don't. We work too hard, and we play too hard, and we haven't the remotest idea how to rest." Perhaps they are right, but it seems to me that a little American vim introduced to an English graduate would be an excellent thing; for after he has left college and is making an ass of himself in the city he has to learn that while a Cambridge or an Oxford hall mark is an excellent thing in the vicarage drawing room, it causes its possessor some sad moments in the business world of London or of anywhere else.