The activity in Chicago is perfectly amazing. And I don't mean commercial activity only. Compare the following statistics: In the great reading rooms of the British Museum, there was an average of 620 readers daily during the year 1888. In the reading-room of the Chicago Public Library, there was an average of 1569 each day in the same year. Considering that the population of London is nearly five times that of Chicago, it shows that the reading public is ten times more numerous in Chicago than in London. * * * * * It is a never failing source of amusement to watch the ways of public servants in this country. I went to pay a visit to a public museum this afternoon. In Europe, the keepers, that is to say, the servants of the public, have cautions posted in the museums, in which "the public are requested not to touch." In France, they are "begged," which is perhaps a more suitable expression, as the museums, after all, belong to the public. In America, the notice is "Hands off!" This is short and to the point. The servants of the public allow you to enter the museums, charge you twenty-five cents, and warn you to behave well. "Hands off" struck me as rather off-handed. [Illustration: THE "BRUSH-UP."] I really admire the independence of all the servants in this country. You may give them a tip, you will not run the risk of making them servile or even polite. The railway conductor says "ticket!" The word _please_ does not belong to his vocabulary any more than the words "thank you." He says "ticket" and frowns. You show it to him. He looks at it suspiciously, and gives it back to you with a haughty air that seems to say: "I hope you will behave properly while you are in my car." The tip in America is not _de rigueur_ as in Europe. The cabman charges you so much, and expects nothing more. He would lose his dignity by accepting a tip (many run the risk). He will often ask you for more than you owe him; but this is the act of a sharp man of business, not the act of a servant. In doing so, he does not derogate from his character. The negro is the only servant who smiles in America, the only one who is sometimes polite and attentive, and the only one who speaks English with a pleasant accent. The negro porter in the sleeping cars has seldom failed to thank me for the twenty-five or fifty cent piece I always give him after he has brushed--or rather, swept--my clothes with his little broom. * * * * * A few minutes ago, as I was packing my valise for a journey to St. Paul and Minneapolis to-night, the porter brought in a card. The name was unknown to me; but the porter having said that it was the card of a gentleman who was most anxious to speak to me, I said, "Very well, bring him here." The gentleman entered the room, saluted me, shook hands, and said: "I hope I am not intruding." "Well," said I, "I must ask you not to detain me long, because I am off in a few minutes."