, on looking back,
Where lies the blame for what I lack;
Why was I never taught the knack
Of beggaring my neighbour?

O. S.

* * * * *

A CONNOISSEUR'S APPRECIATION.

SHARP RISE OF GREAT BRITAIN IN THE ESTIMATION OF U.S.A.

The first-class carriage was empty. I threw my coat into a corner
and settled myself in the seat opposite. Just as the train started to
move, the door was flung open and a tall lean body hurled itself
into the compartment and dropped on my coat. He was followed
instantaneously by a leather bag which crashed on to the floor.

"Say, these cars pull out pretty slick."

My intelligence at once conjectured that this was an American, one of
the thousands who have lately taken advantage of the exchange to spy
out the nakedness of our land.

I must admit that I understand American only with great difficulty. I
try to guess the meaning of each sentence from the unimportant words
which I can interpret. I surmised somehow that his speech referred to
the bag on the floor.

So I answered, civilly enough, "I hope your bag is undamaged. Excuse
me, I will relieve you of my coat." So saying, I pulled it from
beneath him and with a single movement flung it on the rack over my
own head.

The stranger spoke again after some moments. He appeared to have spent
the interval in repeating my words to himself, as though to grasp
their meaning. Yet, heaven knows, I speak plainly enough.

This time he said, "Guess my grip's O.K. But I ain't plunkin' my bucks
on the guy that says the old country's in the sweet and peaceful."

After this most extraordinary and unintelligible communication he
began to feel his pockets and his person all over, as though searching
for something. I felt myself at liberty to resume my study of _The
Spectator_.

However, I was not to be left alone. Again he addressed me. "Guess I
gotta hand it to you."

"I beg your pardon," I observed, lowering my paper.

"You've got 'em all whipped blocks," he went on, his absurd smile
still persisting. "You're a cracker jack, you're a smart aleck. You've
done to me what the fire did to the furnishing shack. You've dealt me
one in the spaghetti joint. Oh, I gotta hand it to you."

I could understand little of the words, but I gathered from his manner
that he was congratulating me on something in the extravagant but
interesting fashion of the North-American tribes.

"You sure put the monkey-wrench on me,"