impression."

"How well do you speak French?" queried his new-found acquaintance.

"Not at all."

"Have you studied the ways and needs of the Frenchman?"

"Of course not. I've got something they want and they ought to take it."

The man who had long lived in France was silent for a moment. Then he
said:

"The fault is not with the Frenchman, my friend. Think it over." He did,
and with reflection he changed his method. He put a curb on strenuosity;
started to study the French temperament; he began to see why he had not
succeeded.

This incident illumines one of the strangest and most inconsistent
situations in our foreign trade. By a curious irony we have failed to
realise our commercial destiny in the one Allied Nation where real
respect and affection for us remain. France--a sister Republic--is bound
to us by sentimental ties and the kinship of a common struggle for
liberty. Her people are warm-hearted and generous and _want_ to do
business with us.

Yet, as long and costly experience shows, we have almost gone out of our
way to clash with their customs and misunderstand their motives. In
short, we have neglected a great opportunity to develop a permanent and
worth-while export business with them. It was bad enough before the war.