Such is the program of Solomon Grundy, Esquire, the distinguished writing Englishman; but on his arrival he finds the country to be somewhat larger than he expected—­larger actually than the Midlands.  So he compromises by spending five days at a private hotel in New York, run by a very worthy and deserving Englishwoman of the middle classes, where one may get Yorkshire puddings every day; and two days more at a wealthy tufthunter’s million-dollar cottage at Newport, studying the habits and idiosyncrasies of the common people.  And then he rushes back to England and hurriedly embalms his impressions of us in a large volume, stating it to be his deliberate opinion that, though we mean well enough, we won’t do —­really.  He necessarily has to hurry, because, you see, he has a contract to write a novel or a play—­or both a novel and a play —­with Lord Northcliffe as the central figure.  In these days practically all English novels and most English comedies play up Lord Northcliffe as the central figure.  Almost invariably the young English writer chooses him for the axis about which his plot shall revolve.  English journalists who have been discharged from one of Northcliffe’s publications make him their villian, and English journalists who hope to secure jobs on one of his publications make him their hero.  The literature of a land is in perilous case when it depends on the personality of one man.  One shudders to think what the future of English fiction would be should anything happen to his Lordship!

Business of shuddering!

Chapter XVIII

Guyed or Guided?

During our scientific explorations in the Eastern Hemisphere, we met two guides who had served the late Samuel L. Clemens, one who had served the late J. Pierpont Morgan, and one who had acted as courier to ex-President Theodore Roosevelt.  After inquiry among persons who were also lately abroad, I have come to the conclusion that my experience in this regard was remarkable, not because I met so many as four of the guides who had attended these distinguished Americans, but because I met so few as four of them.  One man with whom I discussed the matter told of having encountered, in the course of a brief scurry across Europe, five members in good standing of the International Association of Former Guides to Mark Twain.  All of them had union cards to prove it too.  Others said that in practically every city of any size visited by them there was a guide who told of his deep attachment to the memory of Mr. Morgan, and described how Mr. Morgan had hired him without inquiring in advance what his rate for professional services a day would be; and how—­lingering with wistful emphasis on the words along here and looking meaningly the while at the present patron—­how very, very generous Mr. Morgan had been in bestowing gratuities on parting.