For years before going to England I had been interested in the north of England--the land, as I was accustomed to think, of the under dog. England, if one could trust one’s impression from a distance, was a land of great social contrasts--the ultimate high and the ultimate low of poverty and wealth. In the north, as I understand it, were all of the great manufacturing centers--Sheffield, Leeds, Nottingham, Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester--a whole welter of smoky cities whence issue tons upon tons of pottery, linen, cotton, cutlery. While I was at Bridgely Level I spoke of my interest in this region to Barfleur, who merely lifted his eyebrows. He knew little or nothing about that northern world. The south of England encompassed his interest. However, Barfleur’s cousin, the agreeable Gerard Barfleur, told me soulfully that the north of England must be like America, because it was so brisk, direct, practical, and that he loved it. (He was a confirmed American “rooter” or “booster,” we would say over here, and was constantly talking about coming to this country to enter the theatrical business.) I journeyed northward the last day of the old year to Manchester and its environs, which I had chosen as affording the best picture of manufacturing life. I had been directed to a certain hotel, recommended as the best equipped in the country. I think I never saw so large a hotel. It sprawled over a very large block in a heavy, impressive, smoky-stone way. It had, as I quickly discovered, an excellent Turkish and Russian bath in connection with it and five separate restaurants, German, French, English, etc., and an American bar. The most important travel life of Manchester centered here--that was obvious. I was told that buyers and sellers from all parts of the world congregated in this particular caravanserai. It was New Year’s day and the streets were comparatively empty, but the large, showy, heavily furnished breakfast-room was fairly well sprinkled with men whom I took to be cotton operatives. There was a great mill strike on at this time and here were gathered for conference representatives of all the principal interests involved. I was glad to see this, for I had always wondered what type of man it was that conducted the great manufacturing interests in England--particularly this one of cotton. The struggle was over the matter of the recognition of the unions and a slight raise in the wage-scale. These men were very much like a similar collection of wealthy manufacturers in the United States. Great industries seem to breed a certain type of mind and body. You can draw a mental picture of a certain keen, dressy, phlegmatic individual, not tall, not small, round, solid, ruddy--and have them all. These men were so comfortably solid, physically. They looked so content with themselves and the world, so firm and sure. Nearly all of them were between forty-five and sixty, cold, hard, quick-minded, alert. They differed radically