German servants seem to have more self-respect, for while they expect it quite as much, they smile and thank you and never look at the coin before your eyes.  Perhaps they know from the feeling of it, but even if you place it upon the table behind them they thank you and never look at it or take it until you turn away.

However, you fee unmercifully here too.  You fee the man at the bank who cashes your checks, you fee the street-car conductor who takes your fare, you fee every uniformed hireling of the government, whether he has done anything for you or not.

The only persons whom I have neglected to fee so far are the ambassadors.

But then, they do not wear uniforms!

IV

ON BOARD THE YACHT “HELA”

I am just able to sit up, and I couldn’t think of a thing I wanted to eat if I thought a week.  I came on this yachting trip because my friends begged me to.  They said it would be an experience for me.  It has been.

The Hela started out with a party of ten on board, who were on pleasure bent.  We have come up the English Channel from Dinard to Ostend, but before we had been out an hour we struck a gale, to which veterans on seasickness will refer for many a long day as “that fearful time on the Channel.”

On the whole, I don’t know but that I myself might be considered a veteran on seasickness.  I have averaged crossing the Channel once a month ever since I’ve been over here.  I have got into the habit of crossing the Channel, and I can’t seem to stop.  It always appears that I am in the wrong place for whatever is going on, for just as sure as I go to London somebody sends for me to come to Paris, and I rush for the Channel, and I have no sooner unpacked my trunks in Paris, and bargained that service and electric lights shall be included, than somebody discovers that I am imperatively needed in England, and I make for the Channel again.  The Channel is like Jordan.  It always rolls between.

But even in crossing the Channel there is everything in knowing how.  I have discarded the private state-room.  It is too expensive, and I am not a bit less uncomfortable than when occupying six feet of the settee in the ladies’ cabin, with my feet in the flowers of another woman’s hat.  In fact, I prefer the latter.  The other woman is always too ill to protest or to move.  I have now, by long and patient practice, proved to my own satisfaction what serves me best in case of seasickness.  I will not stay on deck.  I will not eat or drink anything to cure it.  I will not take anything to prevent it.  I will not sit up, and I will not keep my hat on.  When I go on board of a Channel steamer my first act is to shake hands with my friends and to go below.  There I present the stewardess with a modest testimonial of my regard.  I also give her my ticket.  Then I select the most desirable portion of the settee, near a port-hole, from which I can get fresh air.  I take off my hat and lie down.  The steamer may not start for an hour.  No matter.  There I am, and there I stay.  The Channel may be as smooth as glass, but I travel better flat.  Like manuscript, I am not to be rolled.  Sometimes I am not ill at all, but I freely confess that those times are infrequent and disappointing.