irst experiments in this enthralling pastime.

As it happened I was able to start at once--too soon, in fact, to be
altogether comfortable. We had scarcely put out from Folkestone before I
got my chance. The sea was distinctly rough, but I just had time to open my
Vade Mecum at page 228 (sub-heading, "On embarking and what happens at
sea"), and to read to a passing French steward the first sentence that
caught my eye. It was as follows: "The wind is very violent; the sea is
very rough; the waves are very high; the rolling of the vessel makes my
head ache; I am very much inclined to be sick."

After that I made no more progress till we reached Boulogne; but from the
steward's subsequent actions I judged that he had understood; so I was one
up.

My Vade Mecum, like most of its kind, was unfortunately compiled many years
ago and had never been brought up to date. This, of course, saved me the
expense of having to hire aeroplanes or even motor-cars, but it landed me
in quite a number of difficulties at the opposite extreme, as you will see.

For instance, in order to polish off the heading, "Of what may happen on
the road," I was compelled to obtain a carriage. Judge then my joy when, on
reaching a carriage builder's, I discovered a whole section tucked away in
a corner of the book dealing exclusively with that very topic. I can think
of no other conceivable circumstances under which I could have said, "The
wheels are in a miserable state; the body is too heavy; the springs are too
light; the shafts are too short; the pole is too thin; the shape is
altogether old-fashioned, and the seats are both high and uncomfortable."

Yet now I said it all--in two halves, it is true, and in two different
shops; but still I said it all. The first half cost me three front teeth,
which fell out while the outraged _carrossier_ was ejecting me; the second
cost me a large sum of money, because somehow or other I found I had
_bought_ the vehicle in question. This I fancy must have been occasioned by
my turning over two pages at once, so that I suppose I really said, "Mr.
X., you are an honest man; I will give you ten thousand francs, but on
condition that you furnish splinter-bars and traces also for that price."

Still one must pay for one's pleasures, and once _en route_ I made short
work of the "What-may-happen-on-the-road" section. The sentence from which
I anticipated most trouble was this: "Postilion, stop. A spoke of one of
the whee