back to modern civilisation as represented by a table d'hôte, a luxury that we had missed, without regret, at the homely old-fashioned hostelries wherein we had been so comfortably entertained hitherto on the way. It was a simple table d'hôte, however, with more of the name than the reality about it, nevertheless it was "served at separate tables" in true British insular fashion. Though the tables were separate we had one allotted to us with a stranger, and, according to the "custom of the country," commenced our meal in mutual silence, neither speaking a word to the other, both being equally to blame in this respect. At an American hotel, under similar circumstances, such unsociability would be considered unmannered—and it would be impossible.
INN VERSUS HOTEL Accustomed so long to the friendliness of the old-fashioned inn, we could not stand the freezing formality of the hotel—it depressed us. So we endeavoured, with the usual commonplaces about the weather and so forth, to break the oppressive silence, only to be answered in gruff monosyllables. This was not promising; even though we might be addressing a man of importance in fact, or solely in his own estimation, surely it would do him no harm to make a show of civility to a stranger that fate had brought him in close contact with at an inn. Truly, he might be a lord or a commercial traveller, we could not tell, nor did it matter to us; we merely wished to be sociable. By tact at last we prevailed. There is no armour against tact and a pleasant manner that costs nothing, and over an after-dinner
