to comport themselves in railway trains and on
board steamboats; who would tell them how to dress themselves to suit
different countries, in order that they might not spoil choice bits of
scenery by inartistic colouring. Above all, I would have them
instructed in the proper manner of placing their boots outside their
bedroom doors when they retire to rest in foreign hotels. I remember a
ruffian in Paris some years ago (truth compels me to put it on record
that he was a countryman of yours, Mr. Dobson) who for three weeks
regularly disturbed my beauty sleep by throwing his boots outside his
door in the fashion to which I am alluding. It's my belief he used to
stand in the centre of his room and pitch them into the corridor,
taking particular care that they should fall exactly above my head."

"It seems to me that I also have met that man," observed Maas quietly,
lighting another cigarette as he spoke. "He travels a great deal."

"Surely it could not be the same man?" remarked Mrs. Dobson, with an
incredulous air. "The coincidence would be too extraordinary." A
smile went round the group; for an appreciation of humour was not the
lady's strong point.

"To continue my proposal," said Foote, with quiet enjoyment. "In
addition to imparting instruction on the subjects I have mentioned, I
would have my pupils thoroughly grounded in the languages of the
various countries they intend visiting, so that they should not inquire
the French for Eau de Cologne, or ask what sort of vegetable _pate de
foie gras_ is when they encountered it upon their menus. A proper
appreciation of the beautiful in art might follow, in order to permit
of their being able to distinguish between a Sandro Botticelli and a
'Seaport at Sunrise' by Claude Lorraine."

"A professor who could give instruction upon the intricacies of a
Continental wine list might be added with advantage," put in
Barrington-Marsh.

"And the inevitable result," said Browne, who had joined the party
while Marsh was speaking, "would be that you might as well not travel
at all. Build an enormous restaurant in London, and devote a portion
of it to every country into which modern man takes himself. Hang the
walls with tricky, theatrical canvases after the fashion of a
cyclorama; dress your waiters in appropriate costumes, let them speak
the language of the country in which you are supposed to be dining, let
the tables be placed in the centre of the hall, have a band to
d