of old-world civilisation.  But even to the obtuse stranger of this character it will ultimately become obvious—­as to the more refined observer ab initio—­that he can no more (if as much) dare to take a liberty with the American girl than with his own countrywoman.  The plum may appear to be more easily handled, but its bloom will be found to be as intact and as ethereal as in the jealously guarded hothouse fruit of Europe.  He will find that her frank and charming companionability is as far removed from masculinity as from coarseness; that the points in which she differs from the European lady do not bring her nearer either to a man on the one hand, or to a common woman on the other.  He will find that he has to readjust his standards, to see that divergence from the best type of woman hitherto known to him does not necessarily mean deterioration; if he is of an open and susceptible mind, he may even come to the conclusion that he prefers the transatlantic type!

Unless his lines in England have lain in very pleasant places, the intelligent Englishman in enjoying his first experience of transatlantic society will assuredly be struck by the sprightliness, the variety, the fearless individuality of the American girl, by her power of repartee, by the quaint appositeness of her expressions, by the variety of her interests, by the absence of undue deference to his masculine dignity.  If in his newly landed innocence he ventures to compliment the girl he talks with on the purity of her English, and assumes that she differs in that respect from her companions, she will patriotically repel the suggested accusation of her countrywomen by assuring him, without the ghost of a smile, “that she has had special advantages, inasmuch as an English missionary had been stationed near her tribe.”  If she prefers Martin Tupper to Shakespeare, or Strauss to Beethoven, she will say so without a tremor.  Why should she hypocritically subordinate her personal instincts to a general theory of taste?  Her independence is visible in her very dress; she wears what she thinks suits her (and her taste is seldom at fault), not merely what happens to be the fashionable freak of the moment.  What Englishman does not shudder when he remembers how each of his womankind—­the comely and the homely, the short and the long, the stout and the lean—­at once assumed the latest form of hat, apparently utterly oblivious to the question of whether it suited her special style of beauty or not?  Now, an American girl is not built that way.  She wishes to be in the fashion just as much as she can; but if a special item of fashion does not set her off to advantage, she gracefully and courageously resigns it to those who can wear it with profit.  But honour where honour is due!  The English girl generally shows more sense of fitness in the dress for walking and travelling; she, consciously or unconsciously, realises that adaptability for its practical purpose is essential in such a case.