is what he said in a low, metallic monotone: "Good
morning, Sir. I am very pleased to meet you. Can you tell me what
o'clock it is? I am much obliged. I wish to descend at Manchester.
At what hour do we arrive there? There are few passengers to-day. The
weather is fine. I beg your pardon if I do not make myself clear. I
do not speak English perfectly as yet. No doubt I have need of much
practice. Can I send a telegram from the next station? Is there a good
hotel at Manchester? Will you do me the favour----"

"Stop," I cried, after having several times opened my mouth to answer
one or other of his questions.

As soon as I spoke the words ended with a sudden click; the voice
descended and became a scrape; at last silence.

"My dear Sir," said I, "I shall be happy to give you any information
I can if you will ask one question at a time. You evidently speak
English very well indeed."

His face lighted with approval of the compliment and then the whole
performance began over again. Once more the wheeze, the scrape, the
screech, the tick and all the rest of it. I became terrified at these
painful impediments in his speech.

I remembered that somebody had once told me what to do on such
occasions. It was either to throw the patient upon his back and move
his arms up and down in a travesty of rowing or to slap him violently
on the back. Seeing that the stranger was several times larger than
myself I chose with diffidence the latter course. Rising to my feet
I turned him round and thumped his back vigorously. He received the
treatment with amiable smiles. Next he produced from his pocket a
booklet, which he handed to me with a polite bow, desisting entirely
from his menagerie noises.

I am of a nervous temperament and needed some minutes' rest in which
to collect myself. Then I began to examine the stranger's gift.

It was a well-printed pamphlet, obviously an advertisement:--

"HOW TO LEARN FOREIGN LANGUAGES.
_The One Truly Scientific Method._

The only way to acquire the real accent of the native is to listen
repeatedly to the language spoken by a native. With our phonograph No.
0034 and a selection of suitable records the student may listen for as
many hours daily as he chooses to the voice of a native speaking his
own language."

Lower down I saw: "Contents of Records. No. 1, At the Hotel; No. 2, At
the Railway Station; No. 3, In the Train." Ah! there it was--the whole
monologue:--

"Good morning, Sir. I a