In times past there have been expressed desire and fear that there should be an American aristocracy, and the materials for its formation have been a good deal canvassed.  In a political point of view it is of course impossible, but it has been hoped by many, and feared by more, that a social state might be created conforming somewhat to the social order in European countries.  The problem has been exceedingly difficult.  An aristocracy of derived rank and inherited privilege being out of the question, and an aristocracy of talent never having succeeded anywhere, because enlightenment of mind tends to liberalism and democracy, there was only left the experiment of an aristocracy of wealth.  This does very well for a time, but it tends always to disintegration, and it is impossible to keep it exclusive.  It was found, to use the slang of the dry-goods shops, that it would not wash, for there were liable to crowd into it at any moment those who had in fact washed for a living.  An aristocracy has a slim tenure that cannot protect itself from this sort of intrusion.  We have to contrive, therefore, another basis for a class (to use an un-American expression), in a sort of culture or training, which can be perpetual, and which cannot be ordered for money, like a ball costume or a livery.

Perhaps the “American Girl” may be the agency to bring this about.  This charming product of the Western world has come into great prominence of late years in literature and in foreign life, and has attained a notoriety flattering or otherwise to the national pride.  No institution has been better known or more marked on the Continent and in England, not excepting the tramway and the Pullman cars.  Her enterprise, her daring, her freedom from conventionality, have been the theme of the novelists and the horror of the dowagers having marriageable daughters.  Considered as “stock,” the American Girl has been quoted high, and the alliances that she has formed with families impecunious but noble have given her eclat as belonging to a new and conquering race in the world.  But the American Girl has not simply a slender figure and a fine eye and a ready tongue, she is not simply an engaging and companionable person, she has excellent common-sense, tact, and adaptability.  She has at length seen in her varied European experience that it is more profitable to have social good form according to local standards than a reputation for dash and brilliancy.  Consequently the American Girl of a decade ago has effaced herself.  She is no longer the dazzling courageous figure.  In England, in France, in Germany, in Italy, she takes, as one may say, the color of the land.  She has retired behind her mother.  She who formerly marched in the van of the family procession, leading them—­including the panting mother—­a whimsical dance, is now the timid and retiring girl, needing the protection of a chaperon on every occasion.  The satirist will find no more abroad the American Girl of the