Should the stay-at-home happen to sleep under a strange roof, on one of his rare journeys, bewilderment and pain attend the hour of his waking. With sleep-bemused brain he eyes the unfamiliar room, and it is some considerable time before he can grasp the situation. The alien appearance of wall-paper and furniture, the different position of bed and door, come on his mind with a sense of pain. Like the little old woman of the nursery rhyme, he says, "This is not I," and it is difficult for him to arrive at an immediate conclusion as to personality and locality. The strangeness of the situation dazes his homely wits. Not so with your traveller. Whether he opens his eyes in palace or hovel, under roof or sky, he is in the instant fully aware of his position. Accustomed to a constant change of scene, his wits are always on the alert for new sights. If he went to sleep in France and woke in Yokohama, he would cease to be astonished before finishing his waking yawn. There is no sense of pain in his waking, but rather a pleasant novelty, which renews itself with every stage of the journey. Your cosmopolitan is the most adaptable of creatures. Dan was one of these enviable beings, and woke in the early morning with a due knowledge of his position. He rubbed his eyes and yawned and stretched himself, moved about briskly to restore the circulation of his blood, and made up the fire. A few embers were still red-hot, so he had no difficulty in fanning them into a blaze under an armful of dry sticks. The sun had not yet risen, and the air, notwithstanding that it was July, struck raw and cold. A pearly light pierced through the sombre boughs overhead, and already the pine wood echoed with the chirrup and twittering of waking birds. Peter went off on his own account in chase of an inquisitive rabbit, and Dan, after seeing to Simon, brewed himself a cup of strong tea, which enabled him to endure more comfortably the chill winds of morning. In spite of the heavy dew on herb and grass, Dan's clothes were quite dry, as he had taken the precaution to wrap himself tightly in his fur rug. But, having slept in his clothes all night, he felt uncomfortable--another proof of his sybaritism--and decided to have a bath before breakfast. Also he thought it advisable that Simon should have a splash in the water, and so made ready to go down to the beach. "We don't know where the sea is," said he to Peter, who had returned without catching his rabbit, "but we'll go on an exploring expedition." Peter whimpered, and hinted at breakfast before starting. "No, Peter," said Dan, gravely, putting a bridle on Simon; "a swim first, and breakfast to follow." Whereat Peter sat disconsolately on his haunches and shivered. He did not care for a swim, and, indeed, detested water with all his heart.