Far be it from us to praise the American for his lack of repose; it is enough to attempt to account for it.  But from the social, or rather society, point of view, the subject has a disquieting aspect.  If the American young man and young woman get it into their heads that repose, especially of manner, is the correct thing, they will go in for it in a way to astonish the world.  The late cultivation of idiocy by the American dude was unique.  He carried it to an extreme impossible to the youth of any nation less “gifted.”  And if the American girl goes in seriously for “repose,” she will be able to give odds to any modern languidity or to any ancient marble.  If what is wanted in society is cold hauteur and languid superciliousness or lofty immobility, we are confident that with a little practice she can sit stiller, and look more impassive, and move with less motion, than any other created woman.  We have that confidence in her ability and adaptability.  It is a question whether it is worth while to do this; to sacrifice the vivacity and charm native to her, and the natural impulsiveness and generous gift of herself which belong to a new race in a new land, which is walking always towards the sunrise.

In fine, although so much is said of the American lack of repose, is it not best for the American to be content to be himself, and let the critics adapt themselves or not, as they choose, to a new phenomenon?

Let us stick a philosophic name to it, and call it repose in activity.  The American might take the candid advice given by one friend to another, who complained that it was so difficult to get into the right frame of mind.  “The best thing you can do,” he said, “is to frame your mind and hang it up.”

WOMEN—­IDEAL AND REAL

We have not by any means got to the bottom of Realism.  It matters very little what the novelists and critics say about it—­what it is and what it is not; the attitude of society towards it is the important thing.  Even if the critic could prove that nature and art are the same thing, and that the fiction which is Real is only a copy of nature, or if another should prove that Reality is only to be found in the Ideal, little would be gained.  Literature is well enough in its place, art is an agreeable pastime, and it is right that society should take up either in seasons when lawn-tennis and polo are impracticable and afternoon teas become flavorless; but the question that society is or should be interested in is whether the young woman of the future—­upon whose formation all our social hopes depend—­is going to shape herself by a Realistic or an Ideal standard.  It should be said in parenthesis that the young woman of the passing period has inclined towards Realism in manner and speech, if not in dress, affecting a sort of frank return to the easy-going ways of nature itself, even to the adoption of the language of the stock exchange, the race-course, and the clubs—­an