These sinful reflections were prompted by the sight of the beautifully unprotected condition of Buffalo--a city that could be made to pay up five million dollars without feeling it.There are her companies of infantry in a sort of port there.A gun-boat brought over in pieces from Niagara could get the money and get away before she could be caught,while an unarmored gun-boat guarding Toronto could ravage the towns on the lakes.When one hears so much of the nation that can whip the earth,it is,to say the least of it,surprising to find her so temptingly spankable.
The average American citizen seems to have a notion that any Power engaged in strife with the Star Spangled Banner will disembark men from flat-bottomed boats on a convenient beach for the purpose of being shot down by local militia.In his own simple phraseology:--"Not by a darned sight.No,sir."Ransom at long range will be about the size of it--cash or crash.
Let us revisit calmer scenes.
In the heart of Buffalo there stands a magnificent building which the population do innocently style a music-hall.Everybody comes here of evenings to sit around little tables and listen to a first-class orchestra.The place is something like the Gaiety Theatre at Simla,enlarged twenty times.The "Light Brigade"of Buffalo occupy the boxes and the stage,"as it was at Simla in the days of old,"and the others sit in the parquet.Here I went with a friend--poor or boor is the man who cannot pick up a friend for a season in America--and here was shown the really smart folk of the city.I grieve to say I laughed,because when an American wishes to be correct he sets himself to imitate the Englishman.This he does vilely,and earns not only the contempt of his brethren,but the amused scorn of the Briton.
I saw one man who was pointed out to me as being the glass of fashion hereabouts.He was aggressively English in his get-up.
From eye-glass to trouser-hem the illusion was perfect,but--he wore with evening-dress buttoned boots with brown cloth tops!
Not till I wandered about this land did I understand why the comic papers belabor the Anglomaniac.
Certain young men of the more idiotic sort launch into dog-carts and raiment of English cut,and here in Buffalo they play polo at four in the afternoon.I saw three youths come down to the polo-ground faultlessly attired for the game and mounted on their best ponies.Expecting a game,I lingered;but I was mistaken.
These three shining ones with the very new yellow hide boots and the red silk sashes had assembled themselves for the purpose of knocking the ball about.They smote with great solemnity up and down the grounds,while the little boys looked on.When they trotted,which was not seldom,they rose and sunk in their stirrups with a conscientiousness that cried out "Riding-school!"from afar.
Other young men in the park were riding after the English manner,in neatly cut riding-trousers and light saddles.Fate in derision had made each youth bedizen his animal with a checkered enam-elled leather brow-band visible half a mile away--a black-and-white checkered brow-band!They can't do it,any more than an Englishman,by taking cold,can add that indescribable nasal twang to his orchestra.
The other sight of the evening was a horror.The little tragedy played itself out at a neighboring table where two very young men and two very young women were sitting.It did not strike me till far into the evening that the pimply young reprobates were making the girls drunk.They gave them red wine and then white,and the voices rose slightly with the maidens'cheek flushes.I watched,wishing to stay,and the youths drank till their speech thickened and their eye-balls grew watery.It was sickening to see,because I knew what was going to happen.My friend eyed the group,and said:--"Maybe they're children of respectable people.
