LETTER II. 25 



was helpless and blameless in the matter. For 

 the future we determined nothing should part us 

 from our luggage, and when, a day or two later, 

 we arrived at Saratoga, it was very amusing to 

 see the men clinging like bulldogs to their heavy 

 bags and our bonnet-boxes, and resisting all the 

 importunities of the hotel porters, who were 

 anxious to relieve them of their loads, and would 

 not have charged a cent for so doing. 



I dare say you will be disappointed, but I am 

 not going to tell you much about Saratoga. I 

 don't like it, and I am tired of fault-finding. I 

 am sure I shall find lots to admire in America, 

 and I like its kindly, genial people immensely ; 

 but I do not like its big hotels, with their pub- 

 licity, noise, and discomfort, and the hotels have 

 been getting bigger and more unpleasant all the 

 way from Quebec, until they come to a climax 

 in Saratoga. 



Of course Saratoga is what Bath was, and 

 what some people say Bath is going to be again, 

 that is, a place to drink waters in, to gamble, 

 flirt, and spend money in, and therefore the 

 gayest, wickedest, most amusing place on earth. 

 I don't know whether America is old enough to 

 have the gout ; at any rate, she has no lack of 

 curative springs. There is hardly anything, Lena, 

 which you can find in the chemists' shops at 



