At which the gendarme would prostrate himself and the American would pass in, while a large body of English, French and German tourists would stand outside and envy him.
Alas, it was a day-dream. Every palace that was closed seemed to be really closed, and when we did find the gendarme who was to be humiliated, we discovered that we couldn't speak his language, and, besides, we felt so humble in his presence that we wouldn't have ventured to talk to him under any circumstances.
We travelled in England, Ireland, Holland, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and France, crossing and recrossing frontiers, and we never encountered a man, woman or child who would consent to look at our passports.
On the other hand, the cable code is something that no tourist should be without. Whenever he is feeling blue or downcast he can open the code book and get a few hearty laughs. Suppose he wishes to send a message to his brother in Toledo. The code permits him to concentrate his message into the tabloid form and put a long newsy letter into two or three words. He opens the blue book and finds that he can send any of the following tidings to Toledo:
Adjunctio—Apartments required are engaged and will be ready for occupation on Wednesday.
Amalior—Bills of lading have not been endorsed.
Animatio—Twins, boy and girl, all well.
Collaria—Received invitation to dinner and theatre, Illaqueo—Have a fly at the station to meet train arriving at eight o'clock.
Napina—Machinery out of order. Delay will be great.
Remissus—Can you obtain good security?