hotels have a superficial splendor, derived from a profusion of gilt
and paint, wood and damask. Yet, in not one of them can the traveller
be so quietly comfortable as in an English Inn, and nowhere in New
York can the stranger procure a dinner, at once so neat and elegant,
and economical, as at scores of Cafes in Paris. The fever of display
has consumed comfort. A gondola plated with gold was no easier than a
black wooden one. We could well spare a little gilt upon the walls,
for more cleanliness upon the public table; nor is it worth while to
cover the walls with mirrors to reflect a want of comfort, One prefers
a wooden bench to a greasy velvet cushion, and a sanded floor to a
soiled and threadbare carpet. An insipid uniformity is the
Procrustes-bed, upon which "society" is stretched. Every new house is
the counterpart of every other, with the exception of more gilt, if
the owner can afford it. The interior arrangement, instead of being
characteristic, instead of revealing something of the tastes and
feelings of the owner, is rigorously conformed to every other
interior. The same hollow and tame complaisance rules in the
intercourse of society. Who dares say precisely what he thinks upon a
great topic? What youth ventures to say sharp things, of slavery, for
instance, at a polite dinner-table? What girl dares wear curls, when
Martelle prescribes puffs or bandeaux? What specimen of young America
dares have his trowsers loose or wear straps to them? We want
individuality, heroism, and, if necessary, an uncompromising
persistence in difference.

This is the present state of parties. They are wildly extravagant,
full of senseless display; they are avoided by the pleasant and
intelligent, and swarm with reckless regiments of "Brown's men." The
ends of the earth contribute their choicest products to the supper,
and there is everything that wealth can purchase, and all the spacious