He put in two lumps and filled in another blank.
I really prefer my coffee with three lumps in it; but I noticed
that his printed form was now completely filled in, and I hated
to call for a third lump and put him to the trouble of starting
his literary labors all over again. Besides, by that time the
coffee would be cold. So I took it as it was - with two lumps
only - and it was pretty fair coffee for European coffee. It tasted
slightly of the red tape and the chicory, but it was neatly prepared
and promptly served.
And so, over historic streams no larger than creeks would be in
America, and by castles and cabbages and kings and cows, we came
to Berlin; and after some of the other Continental cities Berlin
seemed a mighty restful spot to be in, and a good one to tarry in
awhile. It has few historical associations, has Berlin, but we
were loaded to the gills with historical associations by now. It
does not excel greatly in Old Masters, but we had already gazed
with a languid eye upon several million Old Masters of all ages,
including many very young ones. It has no ancient monuments and
tombs either, which is a blessing. Most of the statuary in Berlin
is new and shiny and provided with all the modern conveniences
- the present kaiser attended competently to that detail. Wherever,
in his capital, there was space for a statue he has stuck up one
in memory of a member of his own dynasty, beginning with a statue
apiece for such earlier rulers as Otho the Oboe-Player, and Joachim,
surnamed the Half-a-Ton - let some one correct me if I have the
names wrong - and finishing up with forty or fifty for himself.
That is, there were forty or fifty of him when I was there. There
are probably more now.
In its essentials Berlin suggests a progressive American city,
with Teutonic trimmings. Conceive a bit of New York, a good deal
of Chicago, a scrap of Denver, a slice of Hoboken, and a whole lot
of Milwaukee; conceive this combination as being scoured every day
until it shines; conceive it as beautifully though somewhat profusely
governed, and laid out with magnificent drives, and dotted with
big, handsome public buildings, and full of reasonably honest and
more than reasonably kindly people - and you have Berlin.
It was in Berlin that I picked up the most unique art treasure I
found anywhere on my travels - a picture of the composer Verdi that
looked exactly like Uncle Joe Cannon, without the cigar; whereas
Uncle Joe Cannon does not look a thing in the world like Verdi,
and probably wouldn't if he could.
I have always regretted that our route through the German Empire
took us across the land of the Hessians after dark, for I wanted
to see those people. You will recollect that when George the
Third, of England, first put into actual use the doctrine of Hands
Across the Sea he used the Hessians.
They were hired hands.
Chapter VIII
A Tale of a String-bean
It was at a small dinner party in a home out in Passy - which is
to Paris what Flatbush is to Brooklyn - that the event hereinafter
set forth came to pass. Our host was an American who had lived
abroad a good many years; and his wife, our hostess, was a French
woman as charming as she was pretty and as pretty as she could be.
The dinner was going along famously. We had hors-d'oeuvres, the
soup and the hare - all very tasty to look on and very soothing to
the palate. Then came the fowl, roasted, of course - the roast
fowl is the national bird of France - and along with the fowl
something exceedingly appetizing in the way of hearts of lettuce
garnished with breasts of hothouse tomatoes cut on the bias.
When we were through with this the servants removed the debris and
brought us hot plates. Then, with the air of one conferring a
real treat on us, the butler bore around a tureen arrangement full
of smoking-hot string-beans. When it came my turn I helped myself
- copiously - and waited for what was to go with the beans. A
pause ensued - to my imagination an embarrassed pause. Seeking a
cue I glanced down the table and back again. There did not appear
to be anything to go with the beans. The butler was standing at
ease behind his master's chair - ease for a butler, I mean - and the
other guests, it seemed to me, were waiting and watching. To
myself I said:
"Well, sir, that butler certainly has made a J. Henry Fox Pass of
himself this trip! Here, just when this dinner was getting to be
one of the notable successes of the present century, he has to go
and derange the whole running schedule by serving the salad when
he should have served the beans, and the beans when he should have
served the salad. It's a sickening situation; but if I can save
it I'll do it. I'll be well bred if it takes a leg!"
So, wearing the manner of one who has been accustomed all his life
to finishing off his dinner with a mess of string-beans, I used my
putting-iron; and from the edge of the fair green I holed out in
three. My last stroke was a dandy, if I do say it myself. The
others were game too - I could see that. They were eating beans
as though beans were particularly what they had come for. Out of
the tail of my eye I glanced at our hostess, sitting next to me
on the left. She was placid, calm, perfectly easy. Again addressing
myself mentally I said:
"There's a thoroughbred for you! You take a woman who got prosperous
suddenly and is still acutely suffering from nervous culture, and
if such a shipwreck had occurred at her dinner table she'd be
utterly prostrated by now - she'd be down and out - and we'd all be
standing back to give her air; but when they're born in the purple
it shows in these big emergencies.
