ighting for and tearing the papers and magazines I had
just purchased. There was another horror I hadn't noticed at my first
glance, moreover. This took the shape of an infant of some months, which
immediately began to squeal with a shrillness that forcibly reminded me
of the siren on the Atlantic. No craft ever flew before the siren of an
approaching Atlantic liner more quickly than did I from that infant. I
at once abandoned my seat.

Now instead of going as one would in England to a station official,
telling him you are going by the next train and taking your seat in it
as a matter of course, I had to go into the city again, interview the
officials at their office, and ask as a special compliment to be allowed
to start a few hours later. All this is very surprising in a country
where, of all places, time is money.

In a long journey you pass through many States, in the two senses of the
word. Possibly you may find yourself in a state of thirst, but although
you are surrounded by drinks galore you cannot get the wherewithal to
quench it, for you are passing through a proclaimed State, and drinking
in that is illegal. Or you may be passing through a State free from the
temperance faddist, where intoxicating beverages are to be had for
paying for them, and suddenly discover that you are in a state of
hunger, say five hours after your dinner; but the coloured gentleman who
officiates as cook is snoring, and fifty dollars won't buy you a
mouthful of bread, so you find that your last state is considerably
worse than your first. I have experienced both.

I had the good fortune to "strike" an English friend on my journey, and
with him I shared a compartment in the Pullman. The overheated state of
the cars caused us both to have an unnatural thirst, and we longed for a
refreshing draught of air and liquid. Lunch was announced. I was quickly
in the dining car, and sat down opposite to an American, who had already
tackled his soup and poured out his first glass of claret from a quart
bottle. Feverishly I seized the wine-card. My vis-a-vis looked at me
over his spectacles, and called out to the "coloured gentleman," "Bring
another glass." The glass was brought, and the stranger (I had never
seen him before) filled it with claret and placed it in front of me.
"Thanks awfully!" I said, "but--er--really--er I am going to order.
Don't let me deprive you of your wine."

[Illustration: AMERICAN TRAVELLING. NOTHING TO EAT.]

"Why,