I began to feel as if all America were like the De Morgan jingle:

"Great fleas have little fleas
On their backs to bite 'em,
And little fleas have lesser fleas
And so ad infinitum."

Then I took a trip across the continent, stopping off in Indiana to see
my little Y friends. It was like a bath for my soul. Brains count out
West. Anybody who tries to show off is snubbed.

You must do something to be anything in the Middle West; just to have
something doesn't count. You don't list your ancestors as you must in
Virginia or the Carolinas, but to feel self-respecting you must do
something.

I was happy to renew my wartime friendships. Those who have not shared
a great work or a greater tragedy will not understand these bonds.

The same young friend who served tea to the king took me to a musicale.
She wore her war medal. One of the guests, a lady from Virginia who
claims four coats of arms, was impressed by the girl's medal and the
fact that she had entertained the king.

The girl had married since the war, a fine young Irish lawyer, with a
family name which once belonged to a king but which, since hard times
hit the old sod, has been a butt for song and jest.

The name did not impress the lady from Virginia. "You have such an
interesting face," she said. "What was your name before your marriage?"