wants met by such little books. Mine gives me a sentence
requesting the laundress to return the clothes three days hence, at
midnight, at cock-crow, or at the full of the moon, but nowhere can
the new arrival find the phrase for the next night or the day after
to-morrow. The book implores the washerwoman to use plenty of
starch, but the new arrival wishes scarcely any, or only the frills
dipped.

Before going to the dressmaker's yesterday, I spent five minutes
learning the Italian for the expression "This blouse bags; it sits
in wrinkles between the shoulders." As this was the only criticism
given in the little book, I imagined that Italian dressmakers erred
in this special direction. What was my discomfiture to find that
my blouse was much too small and refused to meet. I could only use
gestures for the dressmaker's enlightenment, but in order not to
waste my recently gained knowledge, I tried to tell a melodramatic
tale of a friend of mine whose blouse bagged and sat in wrinkles
between the shoulders. It was not successful, because I was
obliged to substitute the past for the present tense of the verb.

Somebody says that if we learn the irregular verbs of a language
first, all will be well. I think by the use of considerable mental
agility one can generally avoid them altogether, although it
materially reduces one's vocabulary; but at all events there is no
way of learning them thoroughly save by marrying a native. A
native, particularly after marriage, uses the irregular verbs with
great freedom, and one acquires a familiarity with them never
gained in the formal instruction of a teacher. This method of
education may be considered radical, and in cases where one is
already married, illegal and bigamous, but on the whole it is not