heard of Herr Igali, and he will not do."

"Will the fraulein be willing to wait until my journey around the world
is completed."

"Yes; she vill vait mit much pleezure; I vill zee dat she vait; und I
know you vill return, for an Englishman alvays forgets his promeezes."
Henceforth, when Igali and myself enter upon a programme of whistling,
"Yankee Doodle" is supplanted by "The girl I left behind me," much
to his annoyance, since, not understanding the sentiment responsible for
the change, bethinks "Yankee Doodle" a far better tune. So much attached,
in fact, has Igali become to the American national air, that he informs
the professor and editor of Uj Videk of the circumstance of the band
playing it at Szekszard. As, after supper, several of us promenade the
streets of Neusatz, the professor links his arm in mine, and, taking the
cue from Igali, begs me to favor him by whistling it. I try my best to
palm this patriotic duty off on Igali, by paying flattering compliments
to his style of whistling; but, after all, the duty falls on me, and I
whistle the tune softly, yet merrily, as we walk along, the professor,
spectacled and wise-looking, meanwhile exchanging numerous nods of
recognition with his fellow-Neusatzers we meet. The provost-judge of
Neusatz shares the honors with Frau Schrieber of knowing more or less
English; but this evening the judge is out of town. The enterprising
professor lies in wait for him, however, and at 5.30 on Monday morning,
while we are dressing, an invasion of our bed-chamber is made by the
professor, the jolly-looking and portly provost-judge, a Slavonian
lieutenant of artillery, and a druggist friend of the others. The provost-
judge and the lieutenant actually own bicycles and ride them, the only
representatives of the wheel in Neusatz and Peterwardein, and the judge
is " very angry " - as he expresses it - that Monday is court day, and to-day