New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1878-08-01
TILE OuNIPRESENT "L.n

Diogenes, il he had a mind to visit the
States, would find the first week in August a
good time to poke about with his lantern.
Half the good hOusehOlders in the country,
with then families, have creDt out of the shell
of their homes, and are out of doors, just now,
open to public inspection. The Murray Hill
millionaire is en- route to Paris. Betty, his
chambermaid, is off on her so cent excursion.
The Old cynic would have no trouble in find
ing an honest man or decent woman in the
migrating swarms; the majority of Americans
are both honest and decent; but when he
came to look for finer human qualities under
the linen busters of these lcgiOns on car or
boat, for courtesy, unselfshness, consideration
for the Indifferent stranger, he would need to
mend both his lantern and his eyesight. Every
one of them, in turning his back on home,
takes with him his most essential possessions;
but whether these be diamonds or flannel
shirt, one bit of property he is sure to strap
on his back and keep in sight of all the world.
and that is his own little paltrY self.
1t il really curious to note how the mere act
of travelling, Of cutting loose from home and
the home ideas, routine and friends, brings out
all that is petty and mean in us. In his own
man, i'm spite of his money, big house with
portlcos, and uudoubted arstocracy of birth,
absolutely without pride or offensive airs.
But Jackson at Saratoga fills the hotel with
his swagger, DULLES the walters, quarrels with
the guests. stamps himself as purse-prOud, in
solent and vulgar He is at bottom just the
same good fellow as before; but he must trample
on eyerybody's toes simply for fear they will
not see the size of his feet. Nobody in Sara
toga knows about the big porticos or the
bigger bank account, or that the wholesale
grocer Jackson is n peer in Smithville. His
meanncss and vulgarity are only the frantic
efforts he makes TO thrust this self which he
has brought along upon the eyes of the public.
Jackson is no worse than the rest of us. We
leave home tor week or for the Summer to
gain health, to come closer to Nature, to look at
the great world of men and women from some
Other points OF view thon our own little clique or
business connection. We meet some of them
in q steamer, hotel or farmhouse. They
never saw US before-never, it is likely, will
see us again. But straightway we forget all
about health and Nature. shut our eyes to all
the kindly friendships which we might form
with these people. and begin to pose and
caper and vaunt our miserable selves before
them. What If they should go away and
never know that an am the leader of
fashion in PottstOwn, or the cousin of a mil
Honaire or the author of a story in Harper,
or that am--Il 1t is safe to say that half
our Summer holiday is spent in quarrelling
for our rights with clearinghouse keepers.
and in forcing upon boarders the awful facts
of our social position, our opinions on
Beaconsfield, art embroidery, or pottery,
our weight in pounds, the dishes which
disagree with us, the medicines we take.
Not that these things are either rich or rare.
They are ours. When we go home and sum
up all that we have brought back, we shall
find neither new ideas, nor friends, nor pleas
ant Notwithstanding but the same tedious
hackneyed little selves which we took away
with us. Who knows what we have left be-
hindu Balaam was so busy with his own
gnefs and beast that he showed blindly past
the angel on the road.
What if next Summer we all should go out
incog.7 Noble Smiths, high-born Thompsons,
no matter how blue our blood, let us go
forth disguised as common people for one
brief week in the year and see if there may
not be in this vast world of plebeians some
thing as well worth notice as our own familiar
selves.