it is a matter of great importance to him.  As he wanders from palace to palace—­and he cannot escape the impression that nothing is good enough for him except a palace—­he cannot think of any cottage in any hamlet in America that is not more comfortable in winter than any palace he can find.  And so he is driven on in cold and weary stretches of travel to dwell among the French in Algeria, or with the Jews in Tunis, or the Moslems in Cairo.  He longs for warmth as the Crusader longed for Jerusalem, but not short of Africa shall he find it.  The glacial period is coming back on Europe.

The citizens of the great republic have a reputation for inordinate self-appreciation, but we are thinking that they undervalue many of the advantages their ingenuity has won.  It is admitted that they are restless, and must always be seeking something that they have not at home.  But aside from their ability to be warm in any part of their own country at any time of the year, where else can they travel three thousand miles on a stretch in a well-heated—­too much heated—­car, without change of car, without revision of tickets, without encountering a customhouse, without the necessity of stepping outdoors either for food or drink, for a library, for a bath—­for any item, in short, that goes to the comfort of a civilized being?  And yet we are always prating of the superior civilization of Europe.  Nay, more, the traveler steps into a car—­which is as comfortable as a house—­in Boston, and alights from it only in the City of Mexico.  In what other part of the world can that achievement in comfort and convenience be approached?

But this is not all as to climate and comfort.  We have climates of all sorts within easy reach, and in quantity, both good and bad, enough to export more in fact than we need of all sorts.  If heat is all we want, there are only three or four days between the zero of Maine and the 80 deg. of Florida.  If New England is inhospitable and New York freezing, it is only a matter of four days to the sun and the exhilarating air of New Mexico and Arizona, and only five to the oranges and roses of that semi-tropical kingdom by the sea, Southern California.  And if this does not content us, a day or two more lands us, without sea-sickness, in the land of the Aztecs, where we can live in the temperate or the tropic zone, eat strange fruits, and be reminded of Egypt and Spain and Italy, and see all the colors that the ingenuity of man has been able to give his skin.  Fruits and flowers and sun in the winter-time, a climate to lounge and be happy in—­all this is within easy reach, with the minimum of disturbance to our daily habits.  We started out, when we turned our backs on the Old World, with the declaration that all men are free, and entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of an agreeable climate.  We have yet to learn, it seems, that we can indulge in that pursuit best on our own continent.  There is no winter climate elsewhere to compare with that found in our