If a person snores within the uttermost limit of my hearing, I must say good-bye to sleep, no matter how tired I may be. It is a strange thing how many otherwise nice people snore. Travelling in America has for me one disadvantage--the fact that one has to sleep, like a dish on a Welsh dresser, in the same compartment with about forty people, six of whom surely snore. There is the loud sonorous snore of the merchant prince, the angry, pugnacious bark of the "drummer," the mature grunt of the stout lady, and the gentle lisp-like snore of the debutante. You can't stop them. One would expect "Yankee ingenuity" to find a way out. I think that there ought to be a special padded Pullman for the snoring persons. It ought to be labelled in some way. Perhaps a graceful way would be to have the car called "Sonora." Then all people should carry with them a small card labelled, "The bearer of this pass does not snore," and then the name of a trusted witness or the stamp of a gramaphone company without the advertisement "His Master's Voice." You see a person could be placed in a room, and at the moment of sinking into somnolence, a blank record could start revolving, and be tried out in the morning. Or perhaps the label would read, "The bearer of this card snores." Then the gramaphone company might advertise a little with the familiar "His Master's Voice." It would be awful to lose your label if you were a non-snorer, and then to be placed in the special sleeper. Perhaps there might be a "neutral" car for the partial snorers. I slept in a stateroom on a liner once next to a large man and his large wife, and they were both determined snorers. They used to run up and down the scale and never started at the bottom together. It was a nice mathematical problem to work out when they met in the centre of the scale. As a matter of fact, I don't mind the snoring on a Pullman when the train gets going, because you cannot hear it then, but sometimes in an optimistic frame of mind you decide to board the sleeper two hours before the train starts. Your optimism is never justified, for sure enough, several people start off. It is useless to hold your hands to your ears; you imagine you hear it, even if you don't. So possessing yourself with patience, you read a book, until the train starts. Asphyxiation sets in very soon, but, alas, the train develops a hot box, and you awake once more to the same old dreary noises. I hope that soon they will have that special car. If they don't, the porter ought to be supplied with a long hooked rake, and as he makes his rounds of inspection, he should push the noisy people into other positions. This would look very interesting.