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.
