CHAPTER IV



[Man and his Master.]

There is one thing that the Anglo-Saxon does better than the "French,
or Turk, or Rooshian," to which add the German or the Belgian. When
the Anglo-Saxon appoints an official, he appoints a servant: when
the others put a man in uniform, they add to their long list of
masters. If among your acquaintances you can discover an American,
or Englishman, unfamiliar with the continental official, it is worth
your while to accompany him, the first time he goes out to post a
letter, say. He advances towards the post-office a breezy, self-
confident gentleman, borne up by pride of race. While mounting the
steps he talks airily of "just getting this letter off his mind, and
then picking up Jobson and going on to Durand's for lunch."

He talks as if he had the whole day before him. At the top of the
steps he attempts to push open the door. It will not move. He looks
about him, and discovers that is the door of egress, not of ingress.
It does not seem to him worth while redescending the twenty steps and
climbing another twenty. So far as he is concerned he is willing to
pull the door, instead of pushing it. But a stern official bars his
way, and haughtily indicates the proper entrance. "Oh, bother," he
says, and down he trots again, and up the other flight.

"I shall not be a minute," he remarks over his shoulder. "You can
wait for me outside."