He wondered if the Englishman would haggle over the fare.
Englishmen generally did.

He was agreeably disappointed, however, when, on arriving at the mean hostelry, his passenger plunged a hand into a pocket and produced three Franz-Josef florins.
"You may have these," he said, "for the trouble of having them exchanged into crowns." As he whipped up, the philosophical cabman mused that these tourists were beyond the pale of his understanding.

With a pocket full of money, and to put up at the Grand! Why not the Continental, which lay close to the Werter See, the palaces, the royal and public gardens?
It was at the Continental that the fine ladies and gentlemen from Vienna, and Innsbruck, and Munich, and Belgrade, resided during the autumn months.
But the Grand--ach! it was in the heart of the shops and markets, and within a stone's throw of that gloomy pile of granite designated in the various guide books as the University of Bleiberg.
The Englishman had some difficulty in finding a pen that would write, and the ink was oily, and the guest-book was not at the proper angle.
At last he managed to form the letters of his name, which was John Hamilton.

After some deliberation, he followed this with "England." The proprietor, who acted as his own clerk, drew the book toward him, and after some time, deciphered the cabalistic signs.
"Ah, Herr John Hamilton of England; is that right ?" "Yes; I am here for a few days' shooting.

Can you find me a man to act as guide ?" "This very morning, Herr." "Thanks." Then he proceeded up the stairs to the room assigned to him.