SYRACUSE. 
67 
ward our subordinates than the Germans or French, and quite 
as much so as the English. Sometimes it is such a relief to 
be natural and kind that I try it for variety. The other day, 
up in Austria, I was caught by a party of friends in the act 
of drinking beer with our hack-driver, a very jolly, respectable 
old Dutchman; but, from the disdainful manner in which 
they refused to join us, I felt exceedingly mortified about it, 
and resolved never to be good-natured again. The very same 
evening, walking in one of the public gardens, I met a former 
guide, with whom I thoughtlessly sat down to have a cup of 
coffee, and was in the act of being perfectly happy when my 
friends discovered me again, and this time they showed such 
decided symptoms of disapprobation that I vowed never to be 
sociable any more. Shortness of funds compelled me soon 
after to take passage in the third-class cars, where I was ter¬ 
ribly afraid some one would see me—some American or En¬ 
glishman, I mean, because I knew nobody else would be 
distressed about it. There was a respectable-looking man 
on the next seat who spoke English. He was very chatty 
and agreeable, and it was quite a consolation to find so intel¬ 
ligent a man in the same reduced circumstances. We talked 
very pleasantly for some time, when he informed me that his 
master was in the first-class; that the said master was a 
countryman of mine. I was terribly mortified, of course ; 
there was that lonely and high-minded man in the first-class, 
and I, with the most ambitious aspirations, in the third-class 
with his courier. However, it was some comfort to think 
that I had passed my time pleasantly so far, and had received 
all the information for which the lonely man in the first-class 
was paying a dollar a day, besides the courier’s expenses. 
But this is a sad habit I have fallen into of rambling off 
from the main subject. I believe I was in Syracuse. 
Now, if ever a man tried hard to get up some enthusiasm 
about a place that he had read of with wonder and admira¬ 
tion in early youth, I tried it in Syracuse. I went down into 
the ancient baths, and suffered damp and chilling airs with¬ 
out seeing any thing but subterranean passages and uncom¬ 
fortable holes; through miles of ancient catacombs I roamed 
without one sentiment of admiration for the mighty dead who 
