He bowed and resumed his walking, leaving Mr. Jackson aghast with mouth wide-open, speechless, for he had not time to protest. Then he got up quickly and walked along the deck. . . . My companion followed him with his smiling eyes. . . .
"Perfect parrots," he said. "Petty patriotism, in its most naïve form. . . . Dickens long ago noticed that trait of American character and so it goes on." My sly countryman skilfully interviewed his victim, disclosing step by step the ludicrous traits of a Yankee. There were many weak sides. Mr. Jackson, in whom we were mainly interested, proved to be a mediocre person in all respects, with a naïvely middle-class outlook on life, and we, the two Russian observers, revelled in that delightful malice which is so characteristic of Russians abroad. So that is what they are, the far-famed children of the translantic republic!
Sometime later, I again found my companion engaged in conversation with Mr. Jackson. The ocean was somewhat rough. The ladies did not come out on deck; Mr. Jackson was, therefore, free and evidently in high spirits.
