Some day we shall learn a lesson from Europe.  Some fair day we shall begin to exploit our own historical associations.  We shall make shrines of the spots where Washington crossed the ice to help end one war and where Eliza did the same thing to help start another.  We shall erect stone markers showing where Charley Ross was last seen and Carrie Nation was first sighted.  We shall pile up tall monuments to Sitting Bull and Nonpareil Jack Dempsey and the man who invented the spit ball.  Perhaps then these truant Americans will come back oftener from Paris and Florence and abide with us longer.  Meanwhile though they will continue to stay on the other side.  And on second thought, possibly it is just as well for the rest of us that they do.

In Europe I met two persons, born in America, who were openly distressed over that shameful circumstance and could not forgive their parents for being so thoughtless and inconsiderate.  One was living in England and the other was living in France; and one was a man and the other was a woman; and both of them were avowedly regretful that they had not been born elsewhere, which, I should say, ought to make the sentiment unanimous.  I also heard—­at second hand—­of a young woman whose father served this country in an ambassadorial capacity at one of the principal Continental courts until the administration at Washington had a lucid interval, and endeared itself to the hearts of practically all Americans residing in that country by throwing a net over him and yanking him back home; this young woman was so fearful lest some one might think she cherished any affection for her native land that once when a legation secretary manifested a desire to learn the score of the deciding game of a World’s Series between the Giants and the Athletics, she spoke up in the presence of witnesses and said: 

“Ah, baseball!  How can any sane person be excited over that American game?  Tell me—­some one please—­how is it played?”

Yet she was born and reared in a town which for a great many years has held a membership in the National League.  Let us pass on to a more pleasant topic.

Let us pass on to those well-meaning but temporarily misguided persons who think they are going to be satisfied with staying on indefinitely in Europe.  They profess themselves as being amply pleased with the present arrangement.  For, no matter how patriotic one may be, one must concede—­mustn’t one?—­that for true culture one must look to Europe?  After all, America is a bit crude, isn’t it, now?  Of course some time, say in two or three years from now, they will run across to the States again, but it will be for a short visit only.  After Europe one can never be entirely happy elsewhere for any considerable period of time.  And so on and so forth.