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Penelope's English Experiences-Part2_Kate Douglas Wiggin(1856-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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But 'ease is the lovely result of forgotten toil,' and it is only a

question of time and desire with Americans, we are so clever. Other



nations have to be trained from birth; but as we need only an ounce

of training where they need a pound, we can afford to procrastinate.



Sometimes we procrastinate too long, but that is a trifle. On the

third morning success crowned our efforts. Salemina smiled, and I



told an anecdote, during the operation, although my egg was cracked

in the boiling, and I question if the Queen's favourite maid-of-



honour could have managed it prettily. Accordingly, when eggs were

brought to the breakfast-table at Marjorimallow Hall, we were only



slightlynervous. Francesca was at the far end of the long table,

and I do not know how she fared, but from various Anglicisms that



Salemina dropped, as she chatted with the Queen's Counsel on her

left, I could see that her nerve was steady and circulation free.



We exchanged glances (there was the mistake!), and with an

embarrassed laugh she struck her egg a hasty blow.



Her egg-cup slipped and lurched; a top fraction of the egg flew in

the direction of the Q.C., and the remaining portion oozed, in



yellow confusion, rapidly into her plate. Alas for that past

mistress of elegantdignity, Salemina! If I had been at Her



Majesty's table, I should have smiled, even if I had gone to the

Tower the next moment; but as it was, I became hysterical. My



neighbour, a portly member of Parliament, looked amazed, Salemina

grew scarlet, the situation was charged with danger; and, rapidly



viewing the various exits, I chose the humorous one, and told as

picturesquely as possible the whole story of our school of egg-



opening in Dovermarle Street, the highly arduous and encouraging

rehearsals conducted there, and the stupendousfailureincident to



our first public appearance. Sir Owen led the good-natured laughter

and applause; lords and ladies, Q.C.'s and M.P.'s joined in with a



will; poor Salemina raised her drooping head, opened and ate a

second egg with the repose of a Vere de Vere--and the footman



smiled!

Chapter IV. The English sense of humour.



I do not see why we hear that the Englishman is deficient in a sense

of humour. His jokes may not be a matter of daily food to him, as



they are to the American; he may not love whimsicality with the same

passion, nor inhale the aroma of a witticism with as keen a relish;



but he likes fun whenever he sees it, and he sees it as often as

most people. It may be that we find the Englishman more receptive



to our bits of femininenonsense just now, simply because this is

the day of the American woman in London, and, having been assured



that she is an entertaining personage, young John Bull is willing to

take it for granted so long as she does not try to marry him, and



even this pleasure he will allow her on occasion,--if well paid for

it.



The longer I live, the more I feel it an absurdity to label nations

with national traits, and then endeavour to make individuals conform



to the required standard. It is possible, I suppose, to draw

certain broad distinctions, though even these are subject to change;



but the habit of generalising from one particular, that mainstay of

the cheap and obvious essayist, has rooted many fictions in the



public mind. Nothing, for instance, can blot from my memory the

profound, searching, and exhaustive analysis of a great nation which



I learned in my small geography when I was a child, namely, 'The

French are a gay and polite people, fond of dancing and light



wines.'

One young Englishman whom I have met lately errs on the side of



over-appreciation. He laughs before, during, and after every remark

I make, unless it be a simple request for food or drink. This is an



acquaintance of Willie Beresford, the Honourable Arthur Ponsonby,

who was the 'whip' on our coach drive to Dorking,--dear, delightful,



adorable Dorking, of hen celebrity.

Salemina insisted on my taking the box seat, in the hope that the



Honourable Arthur would amuse me. She little knew him! He sapped




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