In the last few years most of the nations from Lapland to Antartica have taken their fling at this country; vocabularies have been thumbed over and over for new phrases of vituperation; Uncle Sam is a spendthrift, a miser, a coward, a bully, a fat capitalist, a lean prude. But that he should be pictured as a seductive satyr piping innocent nymphs down the primrose path is hard to believe. Now, however, Senora Doloras Longoria of Mexico has returned to the land of bandits and bull-fights, after a sojourn in "New York, Chicago, and other American cities, where she has made keen observation of American morals", and gives the gravest of warnings to senoritas who might be tempted to copy their unprincipled northern sisters.

Assuming that the lady is right, the matter presents its curious aspects. Perspicacious gentlemen within these borders have long aimed their darts at the Mrs. Grundy they claim to be masquerading behind Uncle Sam's chin-whiskers and new horn-rimmed glasses. After reading the editorial page of Judge one wonders how it ever manages to appear without being suppressed; after glancing at Mr. Mencken's polemics, one feels that the author faces martyrdom every time he sits down to his typewriter. Now the Mexican lady accuses this land of being the home not of liberty, but of license. The detractors swing from one side of the balance to the other. The bewildered American, anxious to find out just what he is, can hope for no aid from such wild-eyed charges. Perhaps the mean difference of the accusations is as near the truth as erring human kind can reason.