“Oh, we are all from the country. That is the beauty of it. There is Mr. Hollowell, used to drive a peddler's cart, or something of that sort, up in Maine, talking with Mr. Stott, whose father came in on the towpath of the Erie Canal. You don't dance? The earl has just been giving me a whirl in the ballroom, and I've been trying to make him understand about democracy.” “Yes,” the earl rejoined; “Miss Eschelle has been interpreting to me republican simplicity.” “And he cannot point out, Mr. Fairchild, why this is not as good as a reception at St. James. I suppose it's his politeness.” “Indeed, it is all very charming. It must be a great thing to be the architect of your own fortune.” “Yes; we are all self-made,” Carmen confessed. “I am, and I get dreadfully tired of it sometimes. I have to read over the Declaration and look at the map of the Western country at such times. A body has to have something to hold on to.” “Why, this seems pretty substantial,” I said, wondering what the girl was driving at. “Oh, yes; I suppose the world looks solid from a balloon. I heard one man say to another just now, 'How long do you suppose Henderson will last?' Probably we shall all come down by the run together by-and-by.” “You seem to be on a high plane,” I suggested. “I guess it's the influence of the earl. But I am the most misunderstood of women. What I really like is simplicity. Can you have that without the social traditions,” she appealed to the earl, “such as you have in England?” “I really cannot say,” the earl replied, laughing. “I fancied there was simplicity in Brandon; perhaps that was traditional.” “Oh, Brandon!” Carmen cried, “see what Brandon does when it gets a chance. I assure your lordship that we used to be very simple people in New York. Come, let us go and tell Mrs. Henderson how delightful it all is. I'm so sorry for her.” As I moved about afterwards with my wife we heard not many comments, a word here and there about Henderson's wonderful success, a remark about Margaret's beauty, some sympathy for her in such a wearisome ordeal--the world is full of kindness--the house duly admired, and the ordinary compliments paid; the people assembled were, as usual, absorbed in their own affairs. From all we could gather, all those present were used to living in a palace, and took all the splendor quite as a matter of course. Was there no envy? Was there nothing said about the airs of a country school-ma'am, the aplomb of an adventurer? Were there no criticisms afterwards as the guests rolled home in their carriages, surfeited and exhausted? What would you have? Do you expect the millennium to begin in New York?