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life is stripped of everything that is not distinctly practical； the dull round
of weekly toil is only broken by the duller idleness of an American Sunday。
Naturally； these people long for something outside of themselves and their
narrow sphere。
Suddenly there arises a class whose wealth permits them to break
through the iron circle of work and boredom； who do picturesque and
delightful things； which appeal directly to the imagination； they build a
summer residence complete； in six weeks； with furniture and bric…a…brac；
on the top of a roadless mountain； they sail in fairylike yachts to summer
seas； and marry their daughters to the heirs of ducal houses； they float up
the Nile in dahabeeyah； or pass the 〃month of flowers〃 in far Japan。
It is but human nature to delight in reading of these things。 Here the
great mass of the people find （and eagerly seize on）； the element of
romance lacking in their lives； infinitely more enthralling than the doings
of any novel's heroine。 It is real！ It is taking place！ and … still deeper reason
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… in every ambitious American heart lingers the secret hope that with luck
and good management they too may do those very things； or at least that
their children will enjoy the fortunes they have gained； in just those ways。
The gloom of the monotonous present is brightened； the patient toiler
returns to his desk with something definite before him … an objective point
… towards which he can struggle； he knows that this is no impossible
dream。 Dozens have succeeded and prove to him what energy and
enterprise can accomplish。
Do not laugh at this suggestion； it is far truer than you imagine。 Many
a weary woman has turned from such reading to her narrow duties； feeling
that life is not all work； and with renewed hope in the possibilities of the
future。
Doubtless a certain amount of purely idle curiosity is mingled with the
other feelings。 I remember quite well showing our city sights to a bored
party of Western friends； and failing entirely to amuse them； when；
happening to mention as we drove up town； 〃there goes Mr。 Blank；〃
（naming a prominent leader of cotillions）； my guests nearly fell over each
other and out of the carriage in their eagerness to see the gentleman of
whom they had read so much； and who was； in those days； a power in his
way； and several times after they expressed the greatest satisfaction at
having seen him。
I have found； with rare exceptions； and the experience has been rather
widely gathered all over the country； that this interest … or call it what you
will … has been entirely without spite or bitterness； rather the delight of a
child in a fairy story。 For people are rarely envious of things far removed
from their grasp。 You will find that a woman who is bitter because her
neighbor has a girl 〃help〃 or a more comfortable cottage； rarely feels envy
towards the owners of opera…boxes or yachts。 Such heart…burnings （let us
hope they are few） are among a class born in the shadow of great wealth；
and bred up with tastes that they can neither relinquish nor satisfy。 The
large majority of people show only a good…natured inclination to chaff；
none of the 〃class feeling〃 which certain papers and certain politicians try
to excite。 Outside of the large cities with their foreign…bred； semi…
anarchistic populations； the tone is perfectly friendly； for the simple
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reason that it never entered into the head of any American to imagine that
there WAS any class difference。 To him his rich neighbors are simply his
lucky neighbors； almost his relations； who； starting from a common stock；
have been able to 〃get there〃 sooner than he has done。 So he wishes them
luck on the voyage in which he expects to join them as soon as he has had
time to make a fortune。
So long as the world exists； or at least until we have reformed it and
adopted Mr。 Bellamy's delightful scheme of existence as described in
〃Looking Backward；〃 great fortunes will be made； and painful contrasts be
seen； especially in cities； and it would seem to be the duty of the press to
soften … certainly not to sharpen … the edge of discontent。 As long as human
nature is human nature； and the poor care to read of the doings of the more
fortunate； by all means give them the reading they enjoy and demand； but
let it be written in a kindly spirit so that it may be a cultivation as well as a
recreation。 Treat this perfectly natural and honest taste honestly and
naturally； for； after all； it is
The desire of the moth for the star； Of the night for the morrow。 The
devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow。
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CHAPTER 3 … Contrasted
Travelling
WHEN our parents went to Europe fifty years ago； it was the event of
a lifetime … a tour lovingly mapped out in advance with advice from
travelled friends。 Passports were procured； books read； wills made； and
finally； prayers were offered up in church and solemn leave…taking
performed。 Once on the other side； descriptive letters were conscientiously
written； and eagerly read by friends at home； … in spite of these epistles
being on the thinnest of paper and with crossing carried to a fine art； for
postage was high in the forties。 Above all； a journal was kept。
Such a journal lies before me as I write。 Four little volumes in worn
morocco covers and faded 〃Italian〃 writing； more precious than all my
other books combined； their sight recalls that lost time … my youth … when；
as a reward； they were unlocked that I might look at the drawings； and the
sweetest voice in the world would read to me from them！ Happy； vanished
days； that are so far away they seem to have been in another existence！
The first volume opens with the voyage across the Atlantic； made in an
American clipper （a model unsurpassed the world over）； which was
accomplished in thirteen days； a feat rarely equalled now； by sail。 Genial
Captain Nye