America. If this were true it would certainly form a startling
contrast to the general kind-heartedness of the American. But I fancy
it rather points to the condition of greater relative equality. Our
Russian friend was accustomed to the patronising kindness of the
superior to the inferior, of the master to the servant. It is easy, on
an empyrean rock, to be "kind" to the mortals toiling helplessly down
below. It costs little, to use Mr. Bellamy's parable, for those
securely seated on the top of the coach to subscribe for salve to
alleviate the chafed wounds of those who drag it. In America there is
less need and less use of this patronising kindness; there is less
kindness from class to class simply because the conscious realisation
of "class" is non-existent in thousands of cases where it would be to
the fore in Europe. As for the first statement quoted at the head of
this paragraph, I find it very hard of belief. It is true that there
are exclusive _circles_, to which, for instance, Buffalo Bill would
not have the entrée, but the principle of exclusion is on the whole
analogous to that by which we select our intimate personal friends. No
man in America, who is personally fitted to adorn it, need feel that
he is _automatically_ shut out (as he might well be in England) from a
really congenial social sphere.

Another of America's strong points is its sense of practical comfort
and convenience. It is scarcely open to denial that the laying of too
great stress on material comfort is one of the rocks ahead which the
American vessel will need careful steering to avoid; and it is certain
that Americans lead us in countless little points of household comfort
and labour-saving ingenuity. But here, too, the exception that proves
the rule is not too coy for our discovery. The terrible roads and the
atrociously kept streets are amongst the most vociferous instances of
this. It is one of the inexplicable mysteries of American civilisation