yourself of the truth, to find out what England really has been, and what

she has really done in this war."
The end of the story is that the boy, who had become devoted to her, did

as she suggested. To-day she receives letters from him which show that
nothing is left of his anti-English complex. It is another instance of

how clearly our native American mind, if only the facts are given it,
thinks, judges, and concludes.

It is for those of my countrymen who will never have this chance, never
meet some one who can guide them to the facts", that I tell these things.

Let them "cut out the dope." At this very moment that I write--November
24, 1919--the dope is being fed freely to all who are ready, whether

through ignorance or through interested motives, to swallow it. The
ancient grudge is being played up strong over the whole country in the

interest of Irish independence.
Ian Hay in his two books so timely and so excellent, Getting Together and

The Oppressed English, could not be as unreserved, naturally, as I can be
about those traits in my own countrymen which have, in the past at any

rate, retarded English cordiality towards Americans. Of these I shall
speak as plainly as I know how. But also, being an American and therefore

by birth more indiscreet than Ian Hay, I shall speak as plainly as I know
how of those traits in the English which have helped to keep warm our

ancient grudge. Thus I may render both countries forever uninhabitable to
me, but shall at least take with me into exile a character for strict, if

disastrous, impartiality.
I begin with an American who was traveling in an English train. It

stopped somewhere, and out of the window he saw some buildings which
interested him.

"Can you tell me what those are?" he asked an Englishman, a stranger, who
sat in the other corner of the compartment.

"Better ask the guard," said the Englishman.
Since that brief dialogue, this American does not think well of the

English.
Now, two interpretations of the Englishman's answer are possible. One is,

that he didn't himself know, and said so in his English way. English talk
is often very short, much shorter than ours. That is because they all

understand each other, are much closer knit than we are. Behind them are
generations of "doing it" in the same established way, a way that their

long experience of life has hammered out for their own convenience, and
which they like. We're not nearly so closely knit together here, save in

certain spots, especially the old spots. In Boston they understand each
other with very few words said. So they do in Charleston. But these spots

of condensed and hoarded understanding lie far apart, are never
confluent, and also differ in their details; while the whole of England

is confluent, and the details have been slowly worked out through
centuries of getting on together, and are accepted and observed exactly

like the rules of a game.
In America, if the American didn't know, he would have answered, "I don't

know. I think you'll have to ask the conductor," or at any rate, his
reply would have been longer than the Englishman's. But I am not going to

accept the idea that the Englishman didn't know and said so in his brief
usual way. It's equally possible that he did know. Then, you naturally

ask, why in the name of common civility did he give such an answer to the
American?

I believe that I can tell you. He didn't know that my friend was an
American, he thought he was an Englishman who had broken the rules of the

game. We do have some rules here in America, only we have not nearly so
many, they're much more stretchable, and it's not all of us who have

learned them. But nevertheless a good many have.
Suppose you were traveling in a train here, and the man next you, whose

face you had never seen before, and with whom you had not yet exchanged a
syllable, said: "What's your pet name for your wife?"

Wouldn't your immediate inclination be to say, "What damned business is
that of yours?" or words to that general effect?

But again, you most naturally object, there was nothing personal in my
friend's question about the buildings. No; but that is not it. At the

bottom, both questions are an invasion of the same deep-seated thing--the
right to privacy. In America, what with the newspaper reporters and this

and that and the other, the territory of a man's privacy has been
lessened and lessened until very little of it remains; but most of us

still do draw the line somewhere; we may not all draw it at the same
place, but we do draw a line. The difference, then, between ourselves and

the English in this respect is simply, that with them the territory of a
man's privacy covers more ground, and different ground as well. An

Englishman doesn't expect strangers to ask him questions of a guide-book
sort. For all such questions his English system provides perfectly

definite persons to answer. If you want to know where the ticket office
is, or where to take your baggage, or what time the train goes, or what

platform it starts from, or what towns it stops at, and what churches or
other buildings of interest are to be seen in those towns, there are

porters and guards and Bradshaws and guidebooks to tell you, and it's
they whom you are expected to consult, not any fellow-traveler who

happens to be at hand. If you ask him, you break the rules. Had my friend
said: "I am an American. Would you mind telling me what those buildings

are?" all would have gone well. The Englishman would have recognized (not
fifty years ago, but certainly to-day) that it wasn't a question of rules

between them, and would have at once explained--either that he didn't
know, or that the buildings were such and such.

Do not, I beg, suppose for a moment that I am holding up the English way
as better than our own--or worse. I am not making comparisons; I am

trying to show differences. Very likely there are many points wherein we
think the English might do well to borrow from us; and it is quite as

likely that the English think we might here and there take a leaf from
their book to our advantage. But I am not theorizing, I am not seeking to

show that we manage life better or that they manage life better; the only
moral that I seek to draw from these anecdotes is, that we should each

understand and hence make allowance for the other fellow's way. You will
admit, I am sure, be you American or English, that everybody has a right

to his own way? The proverb "When in Rome you must do as Rome does"
covers it, and would save trouble if we always obeyed it. The people who

forget it most are they that go to Rome for the first time; and I shall
give you both English and American examples of this resently" target="_blank" title="ad.不久；目前">presently. It is good

to ascertain before you go to Rome, if you can, what Rome does do.
Have you never been mistaken for a waiter, or something of that sort?

Perhaps you will have heard the anecdote about one of our ambassadors to
England. All ambassadors, save ours, wear on formal occasions a

distinguishing uniform, just as our army and navy officers do; it is
convenient, practical, and saves trouble. But we have declared it menial,

or despotic, or un-American, or something equally silly, and hence our
ambassadors must wear evening dress resembling closely the attire of

those who are handing the supper or answering the door-bell. An
Englishman saw Mr. Choate at some diplomaticfunction, standing about in

this evening costume, and said:
"Call me a cab."

"You are a cab," said Mr. Choate, obediently.
Thus did he make known to the Englishman that he was not a waiter.

Similarly in crowded hotel dining-rooms or crowded railroad stations have
agitated ladies clutched my arm and said:

"I want a table for three," or "When does the train go to Poughkeepsie? "
Just as we in America have regular people to attend to these things, so

do they in England; and as the English respect each other's right to
privacy very much more than we do, they resentinvasions of it very much

more than we do. But, let me say again, they are likely to mind it only
in somebody they think knows the rules. With those who don't know them it

is different. I say this with all the more certainty because of a fairly
recent afternoon spent in an English garden with English friends. The

question of pronunciation came up. Now you will readily see that with
them and their compactness, their great public schools, their two great