him laugh. And then, when his guffaws had died away into gentle
chuckles, he would make answer; and if he spoke rapidly, as he always
did, I would be swept away by the freshets of his eloquence and left
gasping far beyond my depth.

That was why, when I went to a revue in Paris, I hoped they'd have
some good tumbling on the bill.

I understand French, of course, curiously enough, but not as spoken. I
likewise have difficulty in making out its meaning when I read it; but
in other regards I flatter myself that my knowledge of the language is
quite adequate. Certainly, as I have just stated, I managed to create
a pleasant sensation among my French hearers when I employed it in
conversation.

As I was saying, the general rule was that I should ask the name and
whereabouts of a house in the town where we might procure victuals;
and then, after a bit, when the laughing had died down, one of my
companions would break in and find out what we wanted to know.

The information thus secured probably led us to a tiny cottage of
mud-daubed wattles. Our hostess there might be a shapeless, wrinkled,
clumsy old woman. Her kitchen equipment might be confined to an open
fire and a spit, and a few battered pots.

Her larder might be most meagrely circumscribed as to variety, and
generally was. But she could concoct such savoury dishes for us--such
marvellous, golden-brown fried potatoes; such good soups; such savoury
omelets; such toothsome fragrant stews! Especially such stews!