PARLEY-VOUS?

Representative Britten, who, like most of Congress, has just returned from an "investigation" of Europe, has much to say on a theme whose interest never fails--menus. His report may also throw some light on part of a hitherto obscure and much maligned matter of college policy, the wherefore of the French and German reading examinations.

The menu of the first-class dining room, he reports, is printed in French and intelligible to only two percent of those who use it; while that of the third class, being printed in English, is quite unintelligible to the foreign immigrants. Although the second class menu is not mentioned, it must be concocted of some fearful kind of pigeon English. At any rate the advantage of a proper equipment of French is easily apparent. One at once belongs to the very exclusive group of those who understand what they are ordering. Thus one avoids such an embarrasing faux pas as that of the man who, pointing to an item on the menu, asked for "Some of this please" and received the answer "The orchestra is playing that now, Sir". Or one might even join that more exclusive group, the waiters. For Mr. Britten reports that those now on the ship are not much better off than the passengers. The head-waiter himself had to apologize for his failure to interpret properly an order of "gigo de pouillac, Boulanger."

Perhaps a few years hence, when the present requirements in foreign languages begin to bear fruit, the usual breakfast dish will be "oeuf cocotte a la creme--coquettish eggs", as Mr. Britten reports it. Chicken hash will appear incognito as "hachis de voloille aux haricots verts" while a rib of veal will adopt the ambiguous disquise of "cootie de veaux," one of the "noisette" dishes. French, apparently, is the language of gastronomy, and there may yet appear in the catalogue of the French department "Gastronomy 5", the Appreciation of Menus.