When we had chanted “The Star Spangled Banner” not more than eight times, we adjourned. America is a very great country, but it is not yet heaven, with electric lights and plush fittings, as the speakers professed to believe. My listening mind went back to the politicians in the saloon, who wasted no time in talking about freedom, but quietly made arrangements to impose their will on the citizens. “The judge is a great man, but give thy presents to the clerk,” as the proverb saith. And what more remains to tell? I cannot write connectedly, because I am in love with all those girls aforesaid, and some others who do not appear in the invoice. The typewriter is an institution of which the comic papers make much capital, but she is vastly convenient. She and a companion rent a room in a business quarter, and, aided by a typewriting machine, copy MSS. at the rate of six annas a page. Only a woman can operate a typewriting machine, because she has served apprenticeship to the sewing machine. She can earn as much as one hundred dollars a month, and professes to regard this form of bread-winning as her natural destiny. But, oh! how she hates it in her heart of hearts! When I had got over the surprise of doing business with and trying to give orders to a young woman of coldly, clerkly aspect intrenched behind gold-rimmed spectacles, I made inquiries concerning the pleasures of this independence. They liked it--indeed they did. 'Twas the natural fate of almost all girls--the recognized custom in America--and I was a barbarian not to see it in that light. “Well, and after?” said I. “What happens?” “We work for our bread.” “And then what do you expect?” “Then we shall work for our bread.” “Till you die?” “Ye-es--unless--” “Unless what? This is your business, you know. A man works until he dies.” “So shall we”--this without enthusiasm--“I suppose.” Said the partner in the firm, audaciously:--“Sometimes we marry our employees--at least, that's what the newspapers say.” The hand banged on half a dozen of the keys of the machine at once. “Yet I don't care. I hate it--I hate it--I hate it--and you needn't look so!” The senior partner was regarding the rebel with grave-eyed reproach. “I thought you did,” said I. “I don't suppose American girls are much different from English ones in instinct.” “Isn't it Theophile Gautier who says that the only difference between country and country lie in the slang and the uniform of the police?” Now, in the name of all the gods at once, what is one to say to a young lady (who in England would be a person) who earns her own bread, and very naturally hates the employ, and slings out-of-the-way quotations at your head? That one falls in love with her goes without saying, but that is not enough. A mission should be established. III. AMERICAN SALMON The race is neither to the swift nor the battle to the strong; but time and chance cometh to all. I HAVE lived!