hile we are discussing these matters,'
he went on, 'how is your American dyspepsia these days,--have you
decided what is the cause of it?'

"'Yes, we have,' said I, as quick as a flash; 'we have always taken in
more foreigners than we could assimilate!' I wanted to tell him that one
Scotsman of his type would upset the national digestion anywhere, but I
restrained myself."

"I am glad you did restrain yourself--once," exclaimed Salemina. "What
a tactful person the Reverend Ronald must be, if you have reported
him faithfully! Why didn't you give him up, and turn to your other
neighbour?"

"I did, as soon as I could with courtesy; but the man on my left was the
type that always haunts me at dinners; if the hostess hasn't one on her
visiting-list she imports one for the occasion. He asked me at once of
what material the Brooklyn Bridge is made. I told him I really didn't
know. Why should I? I seldom go over it. Then he asked me whether it was
a suspension bridge or a cantilever. Of course I didn't know; I am not
an engineer."

"You are so tactlessly, needlessly candid," I expostulated. "Why didn't
you say boldly that the Brooklyn Bridge is a wooden cantilever, with
gutta-percha braces? He didn't know, or he wouldn't have asked you. He
couldn't find out until he reached home, and you would never have
seen him again; and if you had, and he had taunted you, you could have
laughed vivaciously and said you were chaffing. That is my method, and
it is the only way to preserve life in a foreign country. Even my
earl, who did not thirst for information (fortunately), asked me the
population of the Yellowstone Park, and I simply told him three hundred
thousand, at a venture."

"That would never have satisfied my neighbour," said Francesca. "Finding
me in such a lamentable state of ignorance, he explained the principle
of his own stupid Forth Bridge to me. When I said I understood
perfectly, just to get into shallower water, where we wouldn't need any
bridge, the Reverend Ronald joined in the conversation, and asked me to
repeat the explanation to him. Naturally I couldn't, and he knew that I
couldn't when he asked me, so the bridge man (I don't know his name,
and don't care to know it) drew a diagram of the national idol on his
dinner-card and gave a dull and elaborate lecture upon it. Here is the
card, and now that three hours have intervened I cannot tell which way
to turn the drawing so as to make the bridge right side up;