Wonder how it is that, although one knows full well that many Paris people are most miserably poor, one never sees such ragged scarecrows in its streets as are visible in London.
Wonder how many successive ages must elapse ere travellers abroad enjoy the luxury of salt-spoons.
Wonder why so many tourists, and particularly ladies, will persist in speaking French, with a true Britannic accent, when the waiter so considerately answers them in English.
Wonder when our foreign friends, who are in most things so ingenious, will direct their ingenuity to the art of drainage coupled with deodorising fluids.
Wonder if there be a watering-place in France where there is no Casino, and where Frenchmen may be seen engaged in any game more active than dominoes or billiards.
Wonder when it will be possible to get through seven courses at a foreign _table d'hôte_ without running any risk of seeing one's fair neighbour either eating with her knife or wiping her plate clean by sopping bread into the gravy.
Wonder what would be the yearly increase of deafness in Great Britain, if our horses all had bells to jangle on their harness, and our drivers all were seized with the mania for whip-cracking, which possesses in such fury all the coachmen on the Continent.
Wonder in what century the historian will relate that a Frenchman was seen walking in the country for amusement.
Wonder why it is that when one calls a Paris waiter, he always answers, "V'la, M'sieu," and then invariably vanishes.
Wonder when Swiss tourists will abstain from buying alpenstocks which they don't know how to use, and which are branded with the names of mountains they would never dare to dream of trying to do more than timidly look up to.
Wonder in what age of progress a sponge-bath will be readily obtainable abroad, in places most remote, and where Britons least do congregate.
Wonder if French ladies, who are as elegant in their manners as they are in their millinery, will ever acquire the habit of eating with their lips shut.
Wonder when it will be possible to travel on the Rhine, without hearing feeble jokelets made about the "rhino."
_Mrs. Vanoof_ (_shopping in Paris_). "Now let me see what you've got extra special."
_Salesman._ "Madam, we 'ave some ver' fine Louis treize."