But I soon gave up all attempts at keeping a seat in one of these cars.  It became my practice to sit down on the outside iron rail behind, and as the conductor generally sat in my lap I was in a measure protected.  As for the inside of these vehicles the women of New York were, I must confess, too much for me.  I would no sooner place myself on a seat, than I would be called on by a mute, unexpressive, but still impressive stare into my face, to surrender my place.  From cowardice if not from gallantry I would always obey; and as this led to discomfort and an irritated spirit, I preferred nursing the conductor on the hard bar in the rear.

And here if I seem to say a word against women in America, I beg that it may be understood that I say that word only against a certain class; and even as to that class I admit that they are respectable, intelligent, and, as I believe, industrious.  Their manners, however, are to me more odious than those of any other human beings that I ever met elsewhere.  Nor can I go on with that which I have to say without carrying my apology further, lest, perchance, I should be misunderstood by some American women whom I would not only exclude from my censure, but would include in the very warmest eulogium which words of mine could express as to those of the female sex whom I love and admire the most.  I have known, do know, and mean to continue to know as far as in me may lie, American ladies as bright, as beautiful, as graceful, as sweet, as mortal limits for brightness, beauty, grace, and sweetness will permit.  They belong to the aristocracy of the land, by whatever means they may have become aristocrats.  In America one does not inquire as to their birth, their training, or their old names.  The fact of their aristocratic power comes out in every word and look.  It is not only so with those who have traveled or with those who are rich.  I have found female aristocrats with families and slender means, who have as yet made no grand tour across the ocean.  These women are charming beyond expression.  It is not only their beauty.  Had he been speaking of such, Wendell Phillips would have been right in saying that they have brains all over them.  So much for those who are bright and beautiful, who are graceful and sweet!  And now a word as to those who to me are neither bright nor beautiful, and who can be to none either graceful or sweet.

It is a hard task, that of speaking ill of any woman; but it seems to me that he who takes upon himself to praise incurs the duty of dispraising also where dispraise is, or to him seems to be, deserved.  The trade of a novelist is very much that of describing the softness, sweetness, and loving dispositions of women; and this he does, copying as best he can from nature.  But if he only sings of that which is sweet, whereas that which is not sweet too frequently presents itself, his song will in the end be untrue and ridiculous.  Women are entitled to much observance