In New York, for instance—I am not speaking now of the literary world, of which I shall speak later—in New York it is your money that will open all doors to you; in Boston, it is your learning; in Philadelphia and Virginia, it is your genealogy. Therefore, if you wish to be a success, parade your dollars in New York, your talents in Boston, and your ancestors in Philadelphia and Richmond.
There is a pronounced childish side to the character of all the Americans. In less than a century they have stridden ahead of the nations of the Old World; they are astonished at their own handiwork, and, like children with a splendid toy of their own manufacture in their hands, they say to you, "Look! just look, is it not a beauty?" And, indeed, the fact is that, for him who will look at it with unprejudiced eyes, the achievement is simply marvellous.
The Americans like compliments, and are very sensitive to criticism. They have not yet got over Charles Dickens' American Notes, nor the still older criticisms of Mrs. Trollope. Scarcely has a foreigner set foot in the United States before they ask him what he thinks of the country. Nine persons out of every ten you speak to put these three questions to you:
"Is this your first visit to America?"
"How long have you been over?"
"How do you like our country?"
There are even some who push curiosity farther, and do not wait until you have arrived to ask you for your opinion on their country.
I had only just embarked on board the Germanic at Liverpool, when the purser handed me a letter from America. I opened it, and read:
"Dear Sir,—Could you, during your voyage, write me an article on the United States? I should be happy to have your preconceived notions of America and the Americans, so as to publish them in my journal as soon as you arrive."