quarter of the town, where it was probable that no one would recognize us. The drink came, though our cabman refused the whiskey and secured a bottle of native wine.
"Three rousing cheers!" said Cousin Egbert as we drank once more, and added as an afterthought, "What a beautiful world we live in!"
"Vooley-voos make-um bring dinner!" said the Tuttle person to the cabman, who thereupon spoke at length in his native tongue to the waiter. By this means we secured a soup that was not half bad and presently a stew of mutton which Cousin Egbert declared was "some goo." To my astonishment I ate heartily, even in such raffish surroundings. In fact, I found myself pigging it with the rest of them. With coffee, cigars were brought from the tobacconist's next door, each cabman present accepting one. Our own man was plainly feeling a vast pride in his party, and now circulated among his fellows with an account of our merits.
"This is what I call life," said the Tuttle person, leaning back in his chair.
"I'm coming right back here every day," declared Cousin Egbert happily.
"What's the matter with a little drive to see some well-known objects of interest?" inquired his friend.
"Not art galleries," insisted Cousin Egbert.
"And not churches," said his friend. "Every day's been Sunday with me long enough."
"And not clothing stores," said Cousin Egbert firmly. "The Colonel here is awful fussy about my clothes," he added.
"Is, heh?" inquired his friend. "How do you like this
