"regiment of women." For though Thackeray is unquestionably right
in estimating highly the influence of refined feminine society
upon youths and young men, there is no doubt that a small boy is
all the better for contact with some one whose physical prowess
commands his respect. Some allowance must also be made for the
peevishness of boys condemned to prolonged railway journeys, and
to the confinement of hotel life in cities and scenes in which
they are not old enough to take an interest. They would,
doubtless, be more genial if they were left behind at school.

The American boy has no monopoly of the characteristics under
consideration. His little sister is often his equal in all
departments. Miss Marryat tells of a little girl of five who appeared
alone in the _table d'hôte_ room of a large and fashionable hotel,
ordered a copious and variegated breakfast, and silenced the timorous
misgivings of the waiter with "I guess I pay my way." At another hotel
I heard a similar little minx, in a fit of infantile rage, address her
mother as "You nasty, mean, old crosspatch;" and the latter, who in
other respects seemed a very sensible and intelligent woman, yielded
to the storm, and had no words of rebuke. I am afraid it was a little
boy who in the same way called his father a "black-eyed old skunk;"
but it might just as well have been a girl.

While not asserting that all American children are of this brand, I do
maintain that the sketch is fairly typical of a very large
class--perhaps of all except those of exceptionally firm and sensible
parents. The strangest thing about the matter is, however, that the
fruit does not by any means correspond to the seed; the wind is sown,
but the whirlwind is not reaped. The unendurable child does not
necessarily become an intolerable man. By some mysterious chemistry of