that a young municipality,--or even, sometimes, an old one,--with a
million dollars to spend, will choose to spend it in erecting a most
unnecessarily gorgeous town-hall rather than in making the street in
front of it passable for the ordinarily shod pedestrian. In New York
itself the hilarious stockbroker returning at night to his palace
often finds the pavement between his house and his carriage more
difficult to negotiate than even the hole for his latch-key; and I
have more than once been absolutely compelled to make a détour from
Broadway in order to find a crossing where the icy slush would not
come over the tops of my boots.[3] The American taste for luxury
sometimes insists on gratification even at the expense of the ordinary
decencies of life. It was an American who said, "Give me the luxuries
of life and I will not ask for the necessities;" and there is more
truth in this epigram, as characteristic of the American point of
view, than its author intended or would, perhaps, allow. In private
life this is seen in the preference shown for diamond earrings and
Paris toilettes over neat and effective household service. The
contrast between the slatternly, unkempt maid-servant who opens the
door to you and the general luxury of the house itself is sometimes of
the most startling, not to say appalling, description. It is not a
sufficient answer to say that good servants are not so easily obtained
in America as in England. This is true; but a slight rearrangement of
expenditure would secure much better service than is now seen. To the
English eye the cart in this matter often seems put before the horse;
and the combination of excellent waiting with a modest table equipage
is frequent enough in the United States to prove its perfect
feasibility.

In American hotels we are often overwhelmed with "all the discomforts
that money can procure," while unable to obtain some of those things