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Penelope's Irish Experiences-Part24_Kate Douglas Wiggin(1856-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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do you think about these vexed questions, dear madam?" Which gives

her a chance to reply with some distinctness, "I shall not know what



I think for several months to come; and at any rate there are

various things more needed on this coach than opinions."



At this the Frenchman murmurs, "Ah, she has right!" and the

Birmingham cutler says, "'Ear! 'ear!"



On another day the parson began to tell the man with the evergreen

heart some interesting things about America. He had never been



there himself, but he had a cousin who had travelled extensively in

that country, and had brought back much unusual information. "The



Americans are an extraordinary people on the practical side," he

remarked; "but having said that, you have said all, for they are



sordid, and absolutelydevoid of ideality. Take an American at his

roller-top desk, a telephone at one side and a typewriter at the



other, talk to him of pork and dollars, and you have him at his very

best. He always keeps on his Panama hat at business, and sits in a



rocking-chair smoking a long cigar. The American woman wears a blue

dress with a red lining, or a black dress with orange trimmings,



showing a survival of African taste; while another exhibits the

American-Indian type,--sallow, with high cheekbones. The manners of



the servant classes are extraordinary. I believe they are called

'the help,' and they commonly sit in the drawing-room after the work



is finished."

"You surprise me!" said Mrs. Shamrock.



"It is indeed amazing," he continued; "and there are other

extraordinary customs, among them the habit of mixing ices with all



beverages. They plunge ices into mugs of ale, beer, porter,

lemonade, or Apollinaris, and sip the mixture with a long ladle at



the chemist's counter, where it is usually served."

"You surprise me!" exclaimed the cutler.



"You surprise me too!" I echoed in my inmost heart. Francesca would

not have confined herself to that blameless mode of expression, you



may be sure, and I was glad that she was on the back seat of the

car. I did not know it at the time, but Veritas, who is a man of



intelligence, had identified her as an American, and wishing to

inform himself on all possible points, had asked her frankly why it



was that the people of her nation gave him the impression of never

being restful or quiet, but always so excessively and abnormally



quick in motion and speech and thought.

"Casual impressions are not worth anything," she replied



nonchalantly. "As a nation, you might sometimes give us the

impression of being phlegmatic and slow-witted. Both ideas may have



some basis of fact, yet not be absolutely true. We are not all

abnormally quick in America. Look at our messenger boys, for



example."

"We! Phlegmatic and slow-witted!" exclaimed Veritas. "You surprise



me! And why do you not reward these government messengers for

speed, and stimulate them in that way?"



"We do," Francesca answered; "that is the only way in which we ever

get them to arrive anywhere--by rewarding and stimulating them at



both ends of the journey, and sometimes, in extreme cases, at a

halfway station."



"This is most interesting," said Veritas, as he took out his damp

notebook; "and perhaps you can tell me why your newspapers are so



poorly edited, so cheap, so sensational?"

"I confess I can't explain it," she sighed, as if sorely puzzled.



"Can it be that we have expended our strength on magazines, where

you are so lamentably weak?"



At this moment the rain began as if there had been a long drought

and the sky had just determined to make up the deficiency. It fell



in sheets, and the wind blew I know not how many Irish miles an

hour. The Frenchman put on a silk macintosh with a cape, and was



berated by everybody in the same seat because he stood up a moment

and let the water in under the lap covers. His umbrella was a



dainty en-tout-cas with a mother-of-pearl handle, that had answered

well enough in heavy mist or soft drizzle. His hat of fine straw



was tied with a neat cord to his buttonhole; but although that




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