I was struck with the extreme courtesy and kindness of the French. Once in London I wished to ask the direction to some place and stepped into a counting-house and with all the politeness I possessed, made my request. The pompous little god of the establishment, with no more expression in his face than in that of a marble statue, looked at me as it seemed for some minutes and then blurted out, “Do you take this for an intelligence office?” I was so completely whipped that I had not a word to reply and got out of the door as quickly as possible. In France, whether from the blue blouses or the exquisites, I never received anything but the most delightful courtesy. They not only directed me, but more frequently offered to go and show me the way. Manners make the man, and as the men, so will the nation be. While in Europe we went everywhere with our guides and guide books until we were weary and surfeited with sight-seeing. I am no artist, still I do not like to be considered quite a muff in regard to art works. Some artists are so conceited as to think that manufacturers of art alone are capable judges of it. A man can have an excellent idea of a well-fitting suit though he never touched a pair of scissors or a needle, why not of painting, though he never smelled paint or handled a brush? I know this, however, that we saw enough of the old masters to last us for this world and the next, flaming daubs of color, plump madonnas, fat babies and gorgeous fleshy angels with wings. I never could understand why angels should be provided with wings, unless their excursions are confined to our atmosphere, and they never get beyond our earthly region. Christians attack materialists for their lack of the spiritual, but if there is anything more materialistic than is found in the Christian religious descriptions of heaven and heavenly beings, then I have been too much of a heathen to discover it. There is, however, this difference in the two kinds. The one is solid and real, based on facts, the other is fluorescent, fantastic, built of dreams.