The Angel and the Author, and Others

and the

w is the British railway

efreshment-room becomes an oasis of repose amid the turmoil of a fretful world. All things conspire to aid him: the ancient joints, ranged side by side like corpses in a morgue, each one decently hidden under its white muslin shroud, whispering of death and decay; the dish of dead flies, thought

must always order beer in a tankard. The British waiter, in his ideals, is medi?val. There is a Shakespearean touch about a tankard. A soapy potato will, of course, be added. Afterwards a ton of cheese and a basin of rabbit's food floating in water (the British salad) will be placed before you. You will work steadily through the whole, antici

When I object to him is when his English is worse than my French or German, and when he will, for his own educational purposes, insist, nevertheless, that the conversation shal

. One waiter I met at an hotel in Dijon knew very little English-about as much

English!"

the Boer War. I took it he was about to denounce the English

u Englishman, y

never wanted to learn French. Even as a boy, it was more the idea of others than of myself. I learnt as little as possible. But I have learnt enough to live in places where they can't, or won't, speak anything else. Left to myself, I could have enjoyed a very satisfac

nd in th

ool would not even listen to me. He had got it into his garlic-sodden brain that all Englishmen live on beef, a

biftek. Not at

ench provincial hotel calls a biftek. I want something to eat.

errupted cheerfull

oment he was suggesting potted pigs' feet

ted; "boil pottito.

ad. By the time I had done it, I did not care what I had for dinner. I took p?t-du-jour and veal. He added, on his own initiative, a

to English for you, calls ten centimes a penny, calculates twelve francs to the po

guage, but that is because he is thinking of you-the possible effect of it upon your future. To try and stop you, he offers you another four sous. The story is told of a Frenchman who, not knowing the legal fare, adopted the plan of doling out pennies to a London cabman one at a time, co

he traveller, one at a time, with the air of a man who is giving away the savings of a lifetime. If, after five minutes or so, you still appear discontented he goes away quite sudd

become of him-ah! there you have them. If in the course of their chequered career they ever come across him, they will mention to him that you are waiting for him. Meanwhile a stentorian-v

ttle M

es, as change for a twenty-franc note, after deducting the price of a cup of coffee. He put it down with the air of one subscribing to a charity. We looked at one another. I suppose I must have conveyed to him the impression of being discontented. He drew a purse

siness together for some time. I think he gathered I was not a fool. Hitherto he had

his and insisted upon the pleasure of his society, until I had examined each and every coin. He went away chuckling, and told another waiter all about it. They

to take him in hand at the beginning and disillusion him; sweep aside his talk of '84 Perrier Jouet, followed by a '79 Chateau Lafite, and ask

"Uncle." But you remember yourself in time. When you are dining a lady, however, and wish to appear importan

s, the Roman nose. But your waiter had blue eyes, this man soft hazel. You had forgotten to notice the eyes. You bar his progress and ask him for the re

possibly confusing me with somebody else;

insul

ut occasionally I have made an innocent mistake, and have met with some such re

thers, though poor, have their self-respect. It is clear to you now why your waiter is keeping away from you; the man is ashamed of being your waiter.

ou," the other tells him

customer that is your business; but don'

iter has hi