composing room--of these things I have not time to speak further, as I
am now on the press, and am rapidly ceasing to be merely a manuscript.




IX

"YOU ARE AN AMERICAN"

"Lavender, sweet lavender,
Who will buy my sweet blooming lavender?
Buy it once, you'll buy it twice,
And make your clothes sweet and nice!"

She was a wretched-looking creature, with a great basket; and it was so
she sang through the street. By this you know where we are, for this
is one of the old cries of London town.

For the sake of my clothes, and for the noble pleasure of associating
for an instant with the original of a coloured print of old London
types, I bought a sprig of lavender. "Thank you, sir," she said.

I saw it coming; ah! yes, by now I knew she would. "You are an
American, sir," she added, eyeing me with interest.

You would think that since the "American invasion" first began ever so
long ago, some time after Dicky Davis "discovered" London, they, the
British, would have seen enough of us to have become accustomed to us
by now. But, as you have found, it is not so--we are a strange race