Hotels now-a-days must be _showy_, abounding in tin foil, Dutch metal and gamboge, a thousand of the "modern improvements"--mere clap-trap, and as foreign to the solid comforts of solid people, as icebergs to Norwegians or "east winds" to the consumptive. Without the show, they would be quite deserted; men will pay for this _show_, must pay for it, and all this show costs money; Turkey carpets, life-size mirrors, ottomans and marble slabs, from dome to kitchen, _draw well_, and those who indulge in the dance, must pay the piper. The fact is, most people understand these things about as well as we do, and it but remains for us to give a daguerreotype of a _few customers_ which landlords or their clerks and servants now and then meet. The conductor of one of our first-class houses, gives us such a truly piquant and matter-of-fact picture of _his_ experience, that we _up_ and copy it, believing, as we do, that the reader will see some information and amusement in the subject. A fussy fellow takes it into his head that he will go on a little tour, he pockets a few dollars and a clean dickey or two, and--comes to town. He's no green horn--O! no, he ain't, he has been around some--he has, and knows a thing or two, and something over. He is dumped out of the cars with hundreds of others, in the great depots, and is assailed by vociferous _whips_ who, in quest of stray dimes, watch the incoming _trains_ and shout and bawl-- "Eh 'up! Tremont House!" "Up--_a!_ American House--right away!" "Ha! _up!_ Right off for the Revere!" "Here's the coach--already for the United States!" "Yee 'up! now we go, git in, best house in town, all ready for the Winthrop House!" "Eh 'up, _ha!_ now we are off, for the Pavilion!" "Exchange Coffee House--dollar a day, four meals, no extra charge--right along this way, sir!" "Hoo-_ray_, this coach--take you right up, Exchange Hotel!" "Jump in, tickets for your baggage, sir, take you up--right off, best house in town, hot supper waitin'--way for the Adams House!" And so they yell and grab at you, and our fussy friend, having heard of the tall arrangements and great doings of the _American_, he hands himself over to the coachman, and with a load of others he is rolled over to that institution, in a jiffy. Our fussy friend is slightly "took down" at the idea of paying for the hauling up, having a notion that that was a part of the accommodation! However, he ain't a going to look small or verdant; so he pays the coachman, grabs his valise, and rushes into the long colonnaded office; and making his way to the _register_, slams down his baggage, and in a dignified, authoritative manner, says-- "A room!" "Yes, sir," responds the Colonel, or some of the clerks--who may be officiating. "Supper!" says Capt. Fussy, in the same tone of command. "Certainly, sir--please register your name, sir!" Captain Fussy off's gloves, seizes the pen, and down goes his autograph, Captain Fussy, Thumperstown, N. H.