You know, I am a writer of
romantic fiction, and my time is so fully occupied in manipulating the
destinies of the good old-fashioned hero and heroine, and trying always to
make them end in a happy marriage, that I have hardly had a chance to look
much into the lives of agriculturists or artisans; and, to tell you the
truth, I don't know what they do with their leisure. I'm pretty certain,
though, you won't meet any of them in this hotel; they couldn't afford it,
and I fancy they would find themselves out of their element among our
guests. We respect them thoroughly; every American does, and we know that
the prosperity of the country rests with them; we have a theory that they
are politically sovereign, but we see very little of them, and we don't
associate with them. In fact, our cultivated people have so little
interest in them socially that they don't like to meet them, even in
fiction; they prefer refined and polished ladies and gentlemen, whom they
can have some sympathy with; and I always go to the upper classes for my
types. It won't do to suppose, though, that we are indifferent to the
working classes in their place.
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