hould. Only a prig refuses
to speak to a man on a train or a boat because he does not know his
name. Opening conversation with a stranger is not always easy, and
should be avoided unless it comes about in a natural way. The stranger
may not want to converse. It is correct for a man who wishes to talk to
another first to introduce himself. "My name is Hammond," he says, and
the man to whom he says it responds by holding out his hand (this is the
more gracious way, but he may omit this part of it, if he likes) and
pronouncing his own name. The same rule holds when the travelers are
women.

Our salesman goes to bed early.

Two men have the compartment across from his. They seem very much
interested in each other, for they continue to talk after they have gone
to bed. In order to make themselves heard they have almost to scream,
and the raucous sound of their voices is much more disturbing than the
sound of the wheels grinding against the rails. It is hard to sleep on a
train even under favorable circumstances. Our salesman has a strenuous
day ahead of him--most of his days are strenuous--and the noise is
keeping him awake.

He could throw on his bathrobe, climb down and remonstrate with the two
men across the way. It would be correct for him to do so, but it would
hardly be expedient. People who are thoughtless enough to be noisy late
at night are often rude enough to be very unpleasant when any one
interferes. The salesman has no real authority over them, but the porter
on duty at night is supposed to see that a certain amount of peace and
quiet is maintained. The salesman rings the bell, and when the porter
appears, asks him if he would mind begging the two men across the aisle
to lower their voices. The porter has had years of experience. He has
developed a soft, pleasant way of asking people to be quiet, and in a
few minutes the car is still except for the inevitable sound of the
train and the snoring of an old lady near the end of the car. This last
cannot be helped. It must be endured, and our salesman composes himself
into a deep slumber.

Dressing and undressing in a sleeping car are among the most difficult
operations to perform gracefully. There are no rules. Most men prefer
staying in their berths to making the attempt in the crowded dressing
rooms. Some divide the process between the two, but no gentleman ever
goes streaking down the aisle half-dressed. He is either fully clothed
or else he is wrapped in a