In England the people have a vague idea that a member of the Four Hundred, with a mansion on Fifth Avenue, represents a typical American. Tell that to a lady with a long list of polite ancestors and quite a lot of money who lives in Maryland. Tell it to an aristocratic New Englander whose ancestors braved the elements in the _Mayflower_. Mention it casually to some of the people living not too far from Rittenhouse Square, and then expect another invitation to dinner. You won't get one. The _Mayflower_ business is very interesting. Some pretty funny people arrived in England with the Conqueror, judging by their descendants. His followers were very prolific, I am sure; but they had very small families when compared with pilgrims who arrived in the _Mayflower_. I don't know very much about Washington, but I went to a party there not long ago which I shall never be able to forget. It was marvellous, and the most wonderful part about the function was my hostess, whose diamonds would ransom a king, but her jewels formed merely a setting to her own charming natural self. That's what I thought, at any rate, as I sat and chatted to her about the island in the west of Scotland from where her children's forebears came. Like us and the Chinese, American people sometimes worship their ancestors, but they never burn this incense in front of their own folk, as far as I can see, except, of course, when they are related to the great Americans of the past. Some have wonderful crests of which they seem a little proud, and, of course, a good looking crest is a great help on the whole, especially in matters that don't count a scrap. To the ordinary snob, things over here are a little difficult because you simply cannot place a person in his or her social sphere by studying the accent. In Great Britain we have this worked out in the most perfect manner so that from the moment of introduction almost, we can tell whether the person introduced is guilty of the terrible crime of being a "provincial," poor chap! Frankly, I am going to dare to say that I think it would be a jolly good idea if some of the people I know and love did worry a little more about the way they pronounce their words, because a lot of them are simply too lazy to worry. However, the things they say are awfully nice and that is what counts in the long run, so I suppose it doesn't matter very much. Talking about ancestors, a great friend of mine here in Bethlehem was faintly interested in his forebears, and visiting the place from where his father came he inquired from the lady of the inn if there were any Johnstones living in those parts. She replied: "Did you come up to the house in a hansom cab?" "Yes," he replied. "Well, that was a Johnstone that drove ye." "Are there any others?" he asked. "Yes, but they're all thieves."