A Bundle of Letters

Another observation which pushes me to the same induction—that of the premature vitiation of the American population—is the attitude of the Americans whom I have before me with regard to each other.  There is another young lady here, who is less abnormally developed than the one I have just described, but who yet bears the stamp of this peculiar combination of incompleteness and effeteness.  These three persons look with the greatest mistrust and aversion upon each other; and each has repeatedly taken me apart and assured me, secretly, that he or she only is the real, the genuine, the typical American.  A type that has lost itself before it has been fixed—what can you look for from this?

Add to this that there are two young Englanders in the house, who hate all the Americans in a lump, making between them none of the distinctions and favourable comparisons which they insist upon, and you will, I think, hold me warranted in believing that, between precipitate decay and internecine enmities, the English-speaking family is destined to consume itself; and that with its decline the prospect of general pervasiveness, to which I alluded above, will brighten for the deep-lunged children of the Fatherland!

CHAPTER IX

MIRANDA HOPE TO HER MOTHER

October 22d

Dear Mother—I am off in a day or two to visit some new country; I haven’t yet decided which.  I have satisfied myself with regard to France, and obtained a good knowledge of the language.  I have enjoyed my visit to Madame de Maisonrouge deeply, and feel as if I were leaving a circle of real friends.  Everything has gone on beautifully up to the end, and every one has been as kind and attentive as if I were their own sister, especially Mr. Verdier, the French gentleman, from whom I have gained more than I ever expected (in six weeks), and with whom I have promised to correspond.  So you can imagine me dashing off the most correct French letters; and, if you don’t believe it, I will keep the rough draft to show you when I go back.

The German gentleman is also more interesting, the more you know him; it seems sometimes as if I could fairly drink in his ideas.  I have found out why the young lady from New York doesn’t like me!  It is because I said one day at dinner that I admired to go to the Louvre.  Well, when I first came, it seemed as if I did admire everything!

Tell William Platt his letter has come.  I knew he would have to write, and I was bound I would make him!  I haven’t decided what country I will visit yet; it seems as if there were so many to choose from.  But I shall take care to pick out a good one, and to meet plenty of fresh experiences.

Dearest mother, my money holds out, and it is most interesting!