tackled a big, dejected looking foreigner who was huddled in a corner.

"Brother, are you a Christian?"

"No, no," he muttered impatiently. "I'm a Norwegian."

Now what that man needed was a cocktail, but it was not for me to
suggest it.

At table I am in a corner with three nice old gentlemen and one young
German. They are great on story-telling, and I've told all of mine,
most of yours and some I invented. One of the old gentlemen is a
missionary; when he found that I was distantly connected with the fold
he immediately called me "Dear Sister". If I were at home I should
call him "Dear Pa", but I am on my good behavior.

The eating is fairly good, only sometimes it is so hot with curry and
spice that it nearly takes my breath. My little Chinese waiter is
entirely too solicitous for my comfort. No amount of argument will
induce him to leave my plate until I have finished, after a few
mouthfuls he whisks it away and brings me another relay. After
pressing upon me dishes of every kind, he insists on my filling up all
crevices with nuts and raisins, and after I have eaten, and eaten, he
looks hurt, and says regretfully: "Missy sickee, no eatee."

There is one other person, who is just as solicitous. The little
German watches my every mouthful with round solemn eyes, and insists
upon serving everything to me. He looks bewildered when anyone tells a
funny story, and sometimes asks for an explanation. He has been
around the world twice, and is now going to China for three years for