u said that you were eighteen when you ascended
Aconcagua in 1902, so I thought that you must have been rather young when
you were in Mexico in 1885.'

He stood still and stared at me, a puzzled look on his face.

'Good gracious,' he said, 'didn't Jones tell you? Didn't he explain to
you about me and my travels?'

'Oh yes,' I hastened to reassure him, fearful that I had given offence;
'he told me that you were a widely-travelled man; and, if you will permit
me to say so, I think he understated----'

'Yes, yes,' he went on, 'but didn't he tell you _how_ I travelled? Didn't
he tell you that I had never been out of Europe? This is my world,' he
continued, waving his arm round the bookcases; 'here are my Americas, my
Africa, my Asia, my Europe, and my Australia. There (pointing to a case
by the window) is my West Indies, here (indicating another one) is my
Polynesia, there my Arctic and Antarctic. Here (patting the back of the
big easy chair) is my steamboat, my mule, and my camel. No weather can
delay me, no storm prevent my setting out. Though it snow a blizzard,
still can I cross the very summits of the Andes: be there a year-old
drought, still may I journey from Sydney to Port Darwin overland.'

I could only marvel at the man. No world-wide traveller could have been
prouder or have found greater satisfaction in the contemplation of his
travels. And a further conversation assured me that, assisted by a good
memory, he knew more, far more, of the countries about which he had read
so many books than did ninety-nine out of a hundred of the tourists who
had actually visited those lands.

'Don't think,' he said, 'that I merely pass my time reading promiscuously
all manner of books of travel. I do nothing of the sort. At the beginning
of each year I map out the countries I intend to visit during that year.
So much time is allotted to each, according to the size of the country
and that of its travel literature. Then I compile a list of the books
that I intend to read, and the order in which they should be read. I have
a fine collection of maps, and those tin cylinders over there contain
charts, by means of which I am enabled to follow more accurately and
minutely the different journeys and voyages that I make.

'Let me give you an example.' Here he took a thin octavo book from one of
the cases. 'This is Commodore John Byron's narrative of the loss of
H.M.S. _Wager_, one of Anson's squadron, on the coast of Chili, in 1740.