think in that flurry and noise;--hundreds of clean-shaven young men in
shirt-sleeves smoking cigars or cigarettes and doing their various duties.
The types interested us so; physiognomy counts for nothing,
apparently,--faces that might have been the first Napoleon or Tennyson or
even Shakespeare,--doing the simple manual part of lifting the blocks of
metal and attending to the machinery, older men, these;--and the Editor,
who naturally must have been very clever, had a round moon face, tiny baby
nose, two marbles stuffed in for eyes and the look of a boyish simpleton.

Tom was so enchanted because at the sporting editor's desk there were a
party of prize fighters, the "world's light weight"--whatever that means, a
half "coloured gentleman," that is what niggers are called--with such white
teeth and wiry and slight; and two large bull dogs of men who were
heavyweights. I felt obliged to ask them if they minded at all having their
noses smashed in and black eyes, and if they felt nervous ever, and the
little coloured gentleman grinned and said he only felt nervous over the
money of the thing! He was not anxious about the art or fame! He just
wanted to win. Is not that an extraordinary point of view, Mamma--_To
win_? It is the national motto, it seems; _how_, does not matter so
much; and that is what makes them so splendidly successful, and that is
what the other nations who play games with them don't understand. They,
poor old-fashioned things, are taking an interest in the sport part, and
so scattering their forces, while the Americans are concentrating on the
winning. And it is this quality which of course will make them the rulers
of the world in time.

All the people were so courteous to us, and naturally Tom was more
interested in this than any of the things we have yet seen. One reporter
who showed us round had a whimsical sense of humour (not "American humour,"
that, as I told you before, is different) and we really enjoyed ourselves,