concerning _trains de luxe_. The cars impressed rather than charmed me.
I preferred, and still prefer, the European variety of Pullman. (Yes, I
admit we owe it entirely to America!) And then there is a harsh,
inhospitable quality about those all-steel cars. They do not yield. You
think you are touching wood, and your knuckles are abraded. The
imitation of wood is a triumph of mimicry, but by no means a triumph of
artistic propriety. Why should steel be made to look like wood?...
Fireproof, you say. But is anything fireproof in the United States,
except perhaps Tammany Hall? Has not the blazing of fireproof
constructions again and again singed off the eyebrows of dauntless
firemen? My impression is that "fireproof," in the American tongue, is
one of those agreeable but quite meaningless phrases which adorn the
languages of all nations. Another such phrase, in the American tongue,
is "right away!" ...

I sat down in my appointed place in the all-steel car, and, turning over
the pages of a weekly paper, saw photographs of actual collisions,
showing that in an altercation between trains the steel-and-wood car
could knock the all-steel car into a cocked hat!... The decoration of
the all-steel car does not atone for its probable combustibility and its
proved fragility. In particular, the smoking-cars of all the Limiteds I
intrusted myself to were defiantly and wilfully ugly. Still, a fine,
proud train, handsome in some ways! And the trainmen were like admirals,
captains, and first officers pacing bridges; clearly they owned the
train, and had kindly lent it to the Pennsylvania R.R. Their demeanor
expressed a rare sense of ownership and also of responsibility. While
very polite, they condescended. A strong contrast to the miserable
European "guard"--for all his silver buttons! I adventured into the
observation-car, of which institution I had so often heard Americans
speak with pride, and speculated why, here as in all other cars, the