Pronouncing Handbook.

I thought I knew French pretty well until I saw that book. It gave
Prior expressions to use in the most casual conversation that I have
never heard of in my life. It had a wonderful choice of words. Only an
experienced philologist could have told you their exact origin.

The handbook had foreseen every situation likely to arise abroad; and
I think it overrated one's ordinary experiences. I have known people
who have resided in France for years and never once had occasion to
ask a billiard-marker if he would "_Envoyer-nous des crachoirs_." Most
people can rub along on a holiday quite cheerfully without a spittoon;
but then the handbook never meant you to be deprived of home comforts
for the want of asking.

Nor did it intend, with all its oily phraseology, that you should be
imposed on. There is a scene in a "print-shop" over the authenticity
of an engraving which gets to an exceedingly painful climax.

A good deal of reliance is placed on the innate courtesy of the
French. For it appears that, after an entire morning spent at the
stationer's, when the shop-keeper has discussed every article he has
for sale, you wind up by saying, "_Je prendrai une petite bouteille
d'encre noire,_" and all that long-suffering man retorts is, "_J'voo
zangvairay ler pah-kay,_" which is not nearly so bolshevistic as it
looks.

Prior said he was going to start to speak French directly he got on
board the steamer--he had learnt that part off by heart already. The
first remark he must make was, "Send the Captain to me at once." There