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ABROAD 
 WITH THE BOYS 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES REPPLIER WELLENS 
 
 BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 835 Broadway, New York 
 
 BRANCH OFFICES: WASHINGTON, BALTIMORE 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS, NORFOLK, DES MOINES, IOWA 
 

 Copyright, 191 i. 
 
 By 
 
 Broadway Publishing Company. 
 
 41 M 
 
 'CI.A303601 
 
TO MY MOTHER 
 
Abroad With the Boys 
 
 first day out. 
 
 Dear Daddy: 
 
 Thank you ever and ever so much for this lovely 
 book. I found it, with the fountain pen, in our 
 state-room when I returned from dinner just now, 
 and I start to do as you have asked me to do — to 
 share my trip with you and the girls — and I hope 
 when the book comes back to you we can live over 
 every hour of the trip together. And as for the 
 fountain pen! Words cannot express my joy, 
 because I was so glad to be taken along that I just 
 agreed with everything Walter suggested, and 
 when he said I should have to share his fountain 
 pen, I just replied : "Very well," which means 
 that economy in luggage can be carried too far. 
 
 The simplicity of our luggage is really delightful 
 — just two enormous "hunting kits," as the Eng- 
 lish call them, and my little black carryall that you 
 know of old. I have one thing on, one off and one 
 in the valise. And, really, I find it most luxurious 
 not to be hampered with an overabundance of pos- 
 sessions. Most of the women on board have 
 garbed themselves in their seagoing clothes, and 
 
 [5] 
 
afitoaa mith tu TSopg 
 
 it makes me wonder if all the staterooms have 
 mirrors. 
 
 The good-byes were simply distracting. To look 
 over the edge of this enormous boat and see those 
 wretched pale faces looking farewells was almost 
 more than I could stand, and I felt more than 
 delighted that your forethought sent me this book 
 and not a wharf good-bye. 
 
 I'm going to be one of the boys, and my great- 
 est wish on this, my first trip abroad, is that Walter 
 shall not be sorry he brought me along. But I'm 
 all at sea at present. I love this German ship, and 
 it's so exciting to select something to eat (merely 
 being guided by the fool name on the menu), with- 
 out being prejudiced by the price attached. Every- 
 thing is apparently of the same value, and even the 
 wonderful creations composed of foodstuffs and 
 paper flags, displayed on the buffet table as the 
 first impression of the sumptuous repast, all have 
 some outlandish fancy name and some new and 
 wonderful sensation of taste. 
 
 When I remarked as a starter for conversation 
 that the boat was wonderfully full of people one 
 of the men at our table said to me in a most insinu- 
 ating way: "J^st wait; you'll see." I'll tell you 
 later what he meant. 
 
 SECOND DAY. 
 
 I was perfectly overjoyed with my bath this 
 morning. I love the good substantial handles to 
 
 [6] 
 
afiroaD mub tbt iBogs 
 
 hold on to in the bath-tubs. The water comes out 
 of the spigot with the force and volume of a fire 
 plug. The towels are fearfully scratchy and fully 
 two yards and a half square, and the nonchalant 
 way the people parade the corridors in their bath 
 wrappers is awfully funny. Should a booby beauty 
 prize be donated, I should love to vote for a certain 
 something I saw this morning in dark red flannel 
 pajamas with slippers to match. He carried a dear 
 little grip, presumably of toilet articles, and his 
 hair was a sight and he needed a shave. 
 
 I put my other dress on last evening — the one 
 cut long in the train and low in the neck, and 
 when Walter asked the men at our table to join us 
 in one of the little cafes after supper, I felt glad 
 I had urged the necessity of taking that other dress 
 along. We became quite w^ell acquainted, and, 
 after the coffee cups had been taken away from 
 the absolutely stationary little table, we all sought 
 one of those sit-around benches and tried to outdo 
 each other in solitaires. 
 
 There is a Portuguese solitaire Fm going to teach 
 you when I come home. That was the specialty of 
 the grandpa of our party. He is a fine-looking 
 man, who hails from Chicago, and, like most of 
 his fellow passengers, is an importer. He was 
 the one who suggested telling ages, and started by 
 saying: "No one takes me for fifty-two," and 
 Walter, who falls into games like that, told how 
 near he was to forty. But when it came to my 
 turn, I was not to be caught that way. I turned 
 it off with a story. It was that famous ground- 
 
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afiroao mUh tfte ieop0 
 
 hog story of mine, fhat no one ever seems to quite 
 believe until I come almost to the end. It sug- 
 gested animal stories, and it therefore started a 
 new train of thought. 
 
 One of the men, an importer of kid gloves, is 
 most generous in imparting information. He told 
 us most interesting things about the making of 
 skins, and when he informed me that young goats 
 were always born twins, I suggested that that was 
 most appropriate, as they ended their days still 
 being a pair of kids — one for each hand. Wasn't 
 it stupid of him to have never thought of that 
 before? Or else, perhaps, he was just being a 
 gentleman. He told us that in some of the moun- 
 tain countries the peasant people who raise our 
 gloves for us show such consideration and respect 
 for their bread-winners that the young kids sleep 
 huddled up with the children. 
 
 The people fairly live on goats' milk and they 
 even eat the young kids after their skins have been 
 sold to the parish priest, who is the chief collector 
 of these precious pelts, and who, in turn, sells them 
 to the glove-makers. Take a good look at your 
 gloves and think of this, and be glad you don't live 
 among the goats. I thank you heartily for it also. 
 
 Isn't it lovely when great big steins of delicious 
 beer are served in the evening in the little Vienna 
 Cafe? The steward puts down before us a large 
 platter full of delightful little sandwiches, all with 
 their lids off, so that they may be seen without 
 having to peep in sideways. 
 
 [8] 
 
afitoao mub tfte I5op0 
 
 THIRD DAY. 
 
 There was delightful excitement fearfully early 
 this morning, and everybody on board who wasn't 
 too old or too young was up and dressed at three 
 A. M. to watch the tender coming from Plymouth, 
 weighted with Prince Henry, brother of the Kaiser. 
 Several others far less important, beside the enor- 
 mous touring car belonging to the Prince added 
 to our ship's load. It really was quite wonderful 
 to watch that colossal thing on a little platform of 
 its own being hoisted up by good strong derricks 
 and being landed right in the middle of the only 
 recreation deck the steerage people had. And then 
 the mean part of it was, its being covered so 
 securely with canvas, so that the people whose deck 
 it almost filled could not even examine it. 
 
 One of the men in our party was starting his 
 trip the English way, and so we lost him here at 
 Plymouth. I was sorry to a certain extent, because 
 that man never failed with a good story when the 
 others appeared to be rather talked out. Another 
 thing America gave up at Plymouth was millions 
 of dollars worth of silver bars, soon to be made 
 into English money. Everybody drank coffee in 
 the brilliantly lighted dining room, just as if it 
 were the regular and proper hour to be doing such 
 things. I couldn't help but think how awfully 
 stupid it must have been for the stewards. After 
 that I went regularly to bed again — hairpins and 
 all — and waited for the real day. 
 
 [9] 
 
afiroatr mm tfte 15og0 
 
 There is an insinuating way the ship people have 
 of putting signs around "bewareing" all innocents 
 of professional gamblers. I have played solitaire 
 so much, and double Canfield with so many differ- 
 ent partners, that I almost feel like explaining to 
 the steward that I am not one of the kind the 
 signs refer to. 
 
 Somebody warned me that it was considered a 
 great offense to take a picture of the shores of 
 France — ^they are so secretive about their harbor. 
 But, even so, I had my camera out with me nice 
 and early, and, while I thrilled with the joy of see- 
 ing Cherbourg, I took the risk and snapped a pic- 
 ture of the place. Madame Lillian Nordica left 
 our ship here, and, as she descended the gang- 
 plank, once more I squeezed the bulb. She looked 
 quite lovely and was most picturesque carrying a 
 basket of flowers. 
 
 I have always admired people who could grace- 
 fully tote around unimportant things and appear 
 to like it. If she had been selling those same 
 blooming things on the corner of a market place 
 I wonder how she would have liked it. 
 
 [10] 
 
ZITTAU, IN SAXONY. 
 
 I'm here, Father. I'm in Europe. I haven't 
 lost my sea legs as yet and I still feel wobbly, and 
 I have already completely comprehended the sen- 
 sation of being an ignorant foreigner. Everybody 
 is talking the same outlandish language, except 
 Walter and two of his friends, who will be with 
 us for some weeks yet. Fortunately, they remem- 
 ber some English. If it were not for that I am 
 sure I should starve. The room that has been 
 assigned to us in this, the best hotel in Zittau, is 
 supposed to be rather the choice of the pick of 
 rooms because a King at some time or other had 
 slept there. The room is very large, very quiet, 
 very dark, with brown hangings and old-fashioned 
 parlor furniture. There is a high bed, with layers 
 of feather beds that one can exercise his own dis- 
 crimination as to using for mattress, bolster or 
 coverings. Surely there are enough of them to 
 choose from. 
 
 The windows are high, with four layers of cur- 
 tains and there are two wall-paper doors that lead 
 somewhere. The place is awfully "scarey," and 
 looks for all the world like the stage setting for 
 some "cheap and nasty" at the National. I think 
 I must be the lady comedienne in the drama, be- 
 cause these people here either have an unusually 
 merry disposition or else there is something awfully 
 
 [II] 
 
atJtoaD mitfi m isogg 
 
 funny about me. I thought at first my face was 
 dirty, but when I looked in the glass I decided it 
 wasn't that, but that I looked for all the world like 
 a "green horn" in a new place, as a young Polish 
 girl might look who has taken the responsibilities 
 of someone else's light housework, with the hopes 
 that she might learn the language. 
 
 Walter has left me here, to make myself per- 
 fectly "at home." I have been trying to make 
 things cheerful, by noticing the effect of our tooth- 
 brushes on a huge ice-cold wash-stand, with two 
 pitchers and basins. My top-coat and furs on one 
 of the outlandish upholstered affairs at the end of 
 the room have a familiar look but not a homelike 
 one. The big double doors are just a little open 
 and I sit here expectant that every minute the 
 next person to arrive on the scene will do a song 
 and dance. 
 
 I am running a little too far ahead with the trip. 
 I didn't even let you land with me at Bremer- 
 haven. From there we travelled in a delightful 
 little railroad carriage to Bremen, and all along 
 the road every place was cultivated. Just imagine, 
 these thrifty German people wouldn't waste one lit- 
 tle bit of land. Great big sugar beets seem to be 
 the thing in season, and everywhere you look you 
 can't miss the sight of some peasant person — usu- 
 ally petticoated — tugging at one of these great 
 heavy vegetables. The people have to stoop so 
 much it doesn't seem to be worth while to 
 straighten up between stoops, and all the workers 
 seem to be bent upon their occupation. Pardon that. 
 
 [12] 
 
a&toaa mm tbt 150^0 
 
 In Bremen we went to the Rathskeller. It was 
 quite the most delightful hole in the ground I have 
 ever entered. The sunshine came over the edge 
 of the street, and through a little window in a long 
 ray of light to the very table where we were sit- 
 ting. The smoke in the place was heavy, and 
 everybody seemed happy. The glasses were like 
 little squatty goblets, with strings of red glass 
 wound round and round them, and the wine and 
 the sandwiches were delicious. Then I could not 
 help watching three young boys near us, who 
 matched for the paying of the drinks in a most 
 amusing way. All three would hold their hands 
 in a fist. They would then raise their hands three 
 times and then stop quick. The odd man had to 
 pay — ^that is, the one who didn't have his thumb 
 up if the others did, or the one who had his thumb 
 up if the others didn't. 
 
 Isn't it funny. Daddy, all the men carry canes 
 after they are old enough to be even office boys. 
 Just so they are wage-earners, they feel more 
 dressed up and important with a cane. This Raths- 
 keller is a dreadfully old place. Hundreds of years 
 ago people drank their wine just there where I was, 
 and hundreds of others are going to take a turn 
 at it after I finish. 
 
 We visited the old Cathedral also, and saw 
 plenty of statues of Roland. We also viewed 
 nearly all the shops, with their low-cut windows. 
 You could stand on the sidewalk and look down an 
 area way into a basement display of windows. 
 After we had seen the wonderful Bleikeller, or 
 
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 "mummy house," as George S. called it, we took 
 a long" sleepy ride to Hamburg, where we were to 
 change cars for Berlin. The guard locked George 
 S., Grandpa, Walter and myself in a little travelling 
 room, and then went off to the platform to call out 
 "Abfart!" That means "go ahead!" Grandpa 
 felt called upon to entertain the party, just as if 
 everyone wasn't entirely relieved of every good 
 story that had ever been in their systems, and, as 
 we sat four abreast looking at the "no smoking" 
 sign, he started one good long tale about a man 
 named Foley who asked if he could go with him 
 on one of his trips three years ago. He told how 
 this same Foley had acquired money late in life, 
 and how he was such a dressy party. He told us 
 how Foley wore a passionate pink shirt, and would 
 insist upon wearing his derby on the back of his 
 head. I tried to remember I was a lady — so I 
 listened to his long discourse on the undesirable 
 v/ays of Foley until he was at the part of the story 
 where the obnoxious travelling companion was 
 making himself unpleasant to the police on the steps 
 of the Opera House in Paris. And it was at this 
 point I heard Walter snore. I was terribly morti- 
 fied but somewhat relieved to see George S. in a 
 somewhat similar state of blissful unconsciousness. 
 I tactfully suggested to Grandpa that we would all 
 probably be "on the go" most of the evening, and 
 why not take the practical advice in the example 
 of the others. I awoke later on, myself, because 
 my arm was asleep. I heard Walter in the most 
 nonchalant tone, remarking: "And what did be- 
 
 [14] 
 
atiroaD mitb tJje iBops; 
 
 come of Foley?" And Grandpa evidently thought 
 I was sound asleep because what he said wasn't 
 meant to be in the story. 
 
 I almost forgot to tell you about poor little 
 Marianna Murphy, an acquaintance on the ship. 
 It was just about five o'clock on the fourth day out, 
 and the men were all busy talking business. I 
 thought I would go downstairs to see if Madame 
 Nordica might be doing a little practising before 
 it was time to get ready for supper. 
 
 On a big, soft blue plush divan, on the balcony 
 overlooking the dining-room, sat about as pale a 
 young girl as I have ever seen. I remembered that 
 the last time I had seen her was when she was 
 looking a long good-bye to a fine, big healthy 
 Irishman, who waved a red handkerchief wildly 
 in the air when he might have been soaking up a 
 few great big real tears that just ran down and 
 splashed. It was the memory of that honest face 
 on land that made me feel so sorry for the little 
 white one at sea. So I w^ent up to her, and asked 
 her if she was saving the place beside her for any- 
 one. Poor child — I knew she wasn't. She had 
 been dreadfully seasick, and she didn't like walk- 
 ing around very much. Like myself, it was her 
 first trip, and she, too, was greatly impressed with 
 the enormous depth, width and wetness of the 
 ocean. To-day she had her first look at it. I asked 
 her (just to see if she had any sense of humor), 
 if she didn't think Columbus must have had won- 
 derful nerve. (I, myself, never forgot Columbus 
 for an entire day during my whole trip.) I told 
 
 [isl 
 
atiroaa mm tbt isops 
 
 her that I used to think that the championship for 
 nerve belonged to the man who ate the first oyster, 
 but now I realized the laurels had never fallen 
 from Columbus. Daddy, she possessed a fine sense 
 of humor, and she smiled a sweet sort of smile, 
 and I really learned to like the girl. She wore a 
 fearfully hobbled skirt, and she had paid for most 
 of her hair. Her hat was one of those affairs that 
 are worn pulled firmly down around the head. She 
 also wore artificial violets — seasick as she had been, 
 poor child, she was so dressy. 
 
 The girl was going abroad to meet her "moth- 
 er's folks," as she called them. She had spent five 
 long years in the "Sisters' " school getting ready 
 for this great event, and she had a fine collection 
 of pretty little convent manners and school-book 
 French. She was also well supplied with enthusi- 
 asm, anticipation and self-assurance. It seemed 
 that her mother had been a French milliner, and a 
 little saved money and over-estimated ambition had 
 tempted her to dream of her own millinery shop 
 in the wonderful America — paved full of money 
 and with all the women wanting hats. And when 
 the sad truth became known — that the sheriff just 
 had to sell out her little shop — she realized her 
 eyes were too pretty to cry very long about it. So 
 when good honest Michael Murphy asked the little 
 "Frenchy" to share his income and name and come 
 live in the dear little boarding house near the big 
 saloon where he tended bar, it seemed like a for- 
 tune to one too pretty to work. 
 
 As time wore on, and little Marlanna came to 
 
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aijroati mUh tbt 15op0 
 
 town to inherit her mother's name, disposition and 
 eyes, Michael's fortunes had increased until they 
 owned their own home, with side entrance, chenille 
 curtains and pretty painted jardinieres. Marianna 
 the second had celebrated her sixteenth birthday 
 and had made wonderful progress in the Sisters' 
 school when the saddest thing that can happen to 
 a girl happened to her. She lost her mother. Her 
 chief inheritance proved to be a longing to go to 
 France — to see the country where her mother had 
 lived, to know her people, only to breathe the air 
 that had nourished her mother. All the little 
 charming graces and mannerisms that make a 
 French woman so pleasing were hers. She is on 
 her way to find her people. Isn't it sad. Daddy? 
 She doesn't know where she is going. That girl 
 has not a rap of sense and she has quantities of 
 jewelry and seemingly an unlimited check-book. 
 She is only eighteen years old and has no thought 
 of a chaperone. She was, however, dreadfully 
 depressed, chiefly from seasickness, but I think she 
 is going to recover quickly. I hope her guardian 
 angel keeps on the job, and I also hope she won't 
 wish she had stayed at home with papa and the 
 rubber plants when it is too late to get back. I 
 shouldn't care to live over the saloon — but then, 
 no one ever asked me to. She was used to it. 
 I really shouldn't have filled up so many pages with 
 Miss Murphy, Daddy, dear, when I have all of 
 Berlin yet to tell you about. 
 
 [17] 
 
BERLIN. 
 
 It was dark when we reached the German capi- 
 tal. We had had our supper on the train, and we 
 went directly to the Hotel Esplanade, where I am 
 afraid Walter's telegrams must have given the 
 management the impression that we were million- 
 aire honeymooners. Really, the rooms reserved for 
 us made me feel afraid that if we were obliged to 
 pay for them we would have to swim home. But, 
 as luck would have it, neither Grandpa nor George 
 S. could find a vacancy in any of the other hotels, 
 so two little brass beds were put up in our elab- 
 orate sitting room for them. Everybody took 
 turns with the same bath-tub, and this put me on 
 friendly terms with a variety of tooth pastes and 
 fancy travelling soaps. So everyone was happy. 
 I just have to mention it here, in case I should 
 ever forget to tell the girls that one cover on the 
 bed here suffices. It was a slippery blue satin effect, 
 with an elaborately embroidered linen sheet but- 
 toned on it, with lots and lots of buttons. Think 
 of those buttonholes! But, dear knows, the beds 
 didn't do me much good. I was out all the time. 
 
 The best time to meet a beautiful city — to see 
 the people who really love it^ — is to meet it after 
 dark. The way those Germans do love Berlin, 
 with its lovely gay way in the lamplight, is delight- 
 
 [i8] 
 
96toaa mUb tfie '25OP0 
 
 fill. About every fourth man is a soldier, and 
 spurs and swords are as familiar sights as blonde 
 moustaches and overgrown waist lines. And the 
 beer! Oh, such beer! I'm fearfully afraid I will 
 outgrow my meagre wardrobe on account of that 
 beer, if it wasn't that it would never do to leave me 
 alone in the hotel. I don't believe I would get so 
 fat. 
 
 Grandpa has seen it all before, and he has seen 
 so many more birthdays than the rest of us that he 
 keeps talking all the time that he is afraid I will 
 be tired. That's his excuse. I just remember that 
 I have the rest of my life to rest, and George S. 
 has said so often: ''You are game, alright," that I 
 quite feel as though I were "some pumpkins," and 
 I prowl around with the other owls, and dear 
 knows, I'm happy. 
 
 Unter den Linden was not the linden trees I 
 rather expected to find, but I never missed them, 
 I was so excited looking at the flowers. Flowers 
 were everywhere — even around the electric light 
 poles there were flower boxes. I wondered who 
 watered the plants, but nobody told me. Out of 
 almost every window there is a flower box, and a 
 friend of Walter's, who hails from New York and 
 lives in Berlin, told me that in summer the city 
 authorities offer prizes for the best-looking window 
 boxes and gardens. What an incentive that is 
 toward maintaining a city beautiful. 
 
 Even the flat-bottomed canal boats laden with 
 fruit are picturesque, and the canals themselves 
 flowing through the city are simply exquisite. The 
 
 [19] 
 
aiiroaD mUh tht 'T3op$ 
 
 bridges that cross them are ornamented with beau- 
 tiful statues and flower boxes. We saw some mas- 
 terpieces in the Museum — original Van Dykes and 
 Rubens — and each and every picture deserved as 
 long a look as we were obliged to share with the 
 entire collection. 
 
 Women here sell flowers on the streets — rather 
 gay bouquets for American taste — but here the 
 people love flowers and even men may be seen 
 carrying bunches of blooms wherever they go. 
 Something struck me as being awfully funny, and, 
 while I am among the flowers, I must mention it. 
 The wife of the Berlin friend was having a birth- 
 day, and before we went to the theatre that evening 
 Walter thought he had better provide a native New 
 Yorker with a large bunch of violets. Of course, 
 there was one for me also, and, as the size of the 
 bunch means so much in America, Walter ordered 
 one about the size of a baby's head. It was served 
 to us with a stem about three inches long from 
 each violet, and made in a series of loose little 
 bunches and tied with an uncertain string and with- 
 out the silver foil or ribbon decorations we have 
 grown to expect. I looked at those two enormous 
 floppy affairs, and waited for an inspiration. But 
 it didn't amount to much. It only resulted in lots 
 of maidenhair fern outlining the edges, and not 
 in any way helping the handle to be any firmer. 
 
 I thought I needed three hat pins, but I found 
 I was mistaken, for, after pinning one of those 
 affairs securely to my chest, using a dangerous 
 spike, my manners compelled me to offer still an- 
 
 [20] 
 
afitoaD mitb m iso^^ 
 
 other pin to the birthday lady. Hats often stay on 
 better than you think they will. 
 
 That was the night we went to the Wintergar- 
 ten, and, if it hadn't been so damp and rainy out- 
 side, I might have really thought we were in the 
 open. The theatre is about the size of the New 
 York Hippodrome and around the walls the lights 
 are so very bright that the fearfully dark ceiling 
 with tiny little electric stars that twinkle all the 
 time make one almost certain to imagine that he 
 is out of doors. 
 
 I wonder what makes the Germans so hungry, 
 because all through the performance food was be- 
 ing served. Can you imagine an American woman 
 in a low-necked dress with a long train sitting 
 with a nice, smiling escort in his evening clothes at 
 a little food-table in a theatre and drinking: beer 
 and eatmg sausages and potato salad (with onions 
 probably on the side) or maybe, even a cold roast 
 beef sandwich that has to be picked up and eaten 
 out of the hand to be thoroughly enjoyed? 
 
 Oh, now, I hope I wasn't rude, but, really, 
 Daddy, anyone would have laughed. Grandpa kept 
 saying to me : ''Don't let these boys drag you any 
 place after the theatre," and I said to him : *'You 
 try to be game yourself," and all the time George 
 S., (who, by the way, is of German descent and 
 speaks the language like a native and seems to 
 have almost as good a thirst), was telling Walter 
 and his transplanted New Yorker that he knew of 
 a lovely place where it was a crime to go to sleep. 
 We met that place later on. In case you should 
 
 [21] 
 
aiitoaD muti tf)t TBap0 
 
 read this book to the girls, I am just going to put 
 stars here, and take you over safely to the next 
 day. After a hearty noonday meal at Kempinski's, 
 where I ate a very baby chicken served in a little 
 earthen pot that it was cooked in, and which was 
 accompanied by a delicious sauce of stewed cher- 
 ries and gooseberries that melted away as we ate it. 
 
 The sauce was almost as nice as the young girl 
 and her bestest one who sat at the same table with 
 us who prettily murmured and blushed sweet Ger- 
 man nothings all through the dinner. When this 
 girl had finished she made such a pretty little bow 
 to me I just loved her for being a lady. 
 
 Then for a glorious afternoon in the sunshine 
 and a taxicab. There was a little mirror in the 
 taxi, and I could see my expression every now and 
 then. Walter said he considered my joy worth 
 the price of the whole trip. I wish I had been 
 provided with an extra pair of eyes on the sides 
 of my head. I could not see enough. The streets 
 are the cleanest affairs I have ever seen and the 
 long driveway through which we rode all too 
 quickly was one delicious dream of beauty. 
 
 The long, well-kept road led us past the palace, 
 which is the Kaiser's town house, where the flag 
 displayed showed he was at home. Nice plan that 
 — isn't it? Then through the long drive made by 
 the present ruler, where rows of statues, each in 
 its own little nook and with its little sit-around 
 stone bench and separate flower garden, are more 
 than I can trust myself to talk about. Fountains! 
 And long designs of flower beds that are constantly 
 
 [22] 
 
aBtoatr mub tbt iBogs; 
 
 changed according to the season! These attract 
 the eye in every direction. And then the homes 
 of the people — all placed far enough back from the 
 street to allow for a garden and a balcony, nearly 
 always. 
 
 Really I was so thrilled I almost wept. The 
 drive leads through the extremely neat woods, 
 where park guards are constantly on duty and the 
 trees are planted with the regularity of a checker 
 board. These trees are all kept trimmed of their 
 lower branches, so that the sunset may peep 
 through. And for every tree that grows crooked 
 a chalk mark is put on it, which dooms it, and it 
 must, therefore, go to make room for a perfect 
 one in its place. Those trees reminded me of sol- 
 diers somehow. I shall never forget that drive 
 through the woods, and so many people seemed to 
 have the leisure to enjoy the woods. I think the 
 reason the people have so much time for real pleas- 
 ure is because they don't waste time on clothes. 
 The women are so much better looking than the 
 things they get themselves up in, and they all seem 
 to have a total lack of taste in the blending of color 
 of their clothes, and yet they live in such a land of 
 flowers. 
 
 We went to Charlottenburg, and there left the 
 taxi for awhile, for everybody is obliged to walk 
 through the beautiful park there, as absolutely no 
 vehicles are allowed on the grounds that led us to 
 the mausoleum where the exquisite Louise, Queen of 
 Prussia, lies under a gorgeous marble image of her- 
 self and her form under its gauze-like marble veil 
 
 [23] 
 
a&toaa mith t&e iBop$ 
 
 is so beautiful and even her slender throat is fault- 
 less. I was so anxious to see her throat because I 
 have always been under the impression that the ma- 
 line scarf she wears when she comes down the steps 
 in the picture we all know best of her was worn 
 to conceal a disfiguring goitre. As she lies there 
 in the blue light in the cold marble tomb with her 
 husband and parent, with the enormous Angel Ga- 
 briel at the door, I really felt like asking her to 
 forgive me for even thinking that gorgeous throat 
 has been disfigured. 
 
 The stores are better looking from an artistic 
 point of view than the things they offer to sell. 
 One of the stores has the most imposing entrance 
 imaginable. It has a fountain with a mother bear 
 in bronze and her two baby bears down where the 
 water splashes. The flower boxes around the water 
 are full of crisp pale pink heather. 
 
 One day Walter and George S. were going to 
 be busy all day, so Grandpa said he would take me 
 to the Zoo. The entrance fee is probably the rea- 
 son why only such aristocratic looking children were 
 playing in the park part of it. The children all are 
 barelegged and are splendid wholesome specimens. 
 I just loved these little ones. The nurses looked 
 like Christmas-tree ornaments with huge flowing 
 caps and full-plaited, rather short skirts, with high 
 boots and little narrow aprons. I'll tell you more 
 about aprons later. 
 
 When Grandpa said we would have dinner at the 
 Zoological Garden I thought it would probably be 
 big honey cakes and peanuts, but far from it. It 
 
 [24] 
 
atJtoaa mith tbt tbop^ 
 
 turned out to be a most elaborate repast, which took 
 up lots of the afternoon. It was served in a pretty 
 place, with hanging baskets of artificial things hang- 
 ing around. Grandpa knows so much about ani- 
 mals and he told me interesting stories about them. 
 One thing he said was that monkeys were subject 
 to tuberculosis. He spoke about the famous cross 
 monkeys in Chicago, who were left outdoors when 
 the other monks moved into winter quarters for the 
 cold season. These cross monkeys. Grandpa says, 
 were so fearfully cross that their keeper decided to 
 let them freeze to death. 
 
 The monkeys, however, not only did not freeze but 
 they acquired a better disposition and an heir — and 
 baby monkeys in captivity are scarce. Each year 
 the monkey house was kept cooler and cooler and 
 the monkeys soon showed much improvement in 
 health. 
 
 I saw a very pretty sight that afternoon, and, as 
 luck would have it, my camera was in the hotel. 
 It was a dear patient Great Dane mother dog bring- 
 ing up some high-bred lady lioness' twins for her. 
 A little baby leopard was with them also. The 
 expression on the dog's face was beautiful, and I 
 was hoping for her sake that she was not thinking 
 of the time her foster children would grow up and, 
 mayhap, eat her. I saw the young parents. They 
 looked as if they might have been Lord and Lady 
 Somebody. They were sitting on a huge stone 
 bench, and, would you believe it. Daddy, they act- 
 ually were exchanging soul kisses? 
 
 I am still in Zittau, you know, dear Daddy, and 
 
 [25] 
 
aftroaa mitb tht iBogg 
 
 the great amount of leisure here is what has done 
 so much for taking you and the girls with me in 
 this book. I hope you will hke these pictures of 
 the market place. Sometimes I wonder if my cam- 
 era should play me false how I could ever picture to 
 you these lovely scenes. I have just taken a pic- 
 ture of the band, which is playing in the Market 
 platz on a Sunday morning. The musicians are all 
 soldiers and the crowd is standing near enough to 
 be knocked with the outcoming end of a trombone. 
 I loved to hear this band, and I moved up to it as 
 close as anybody. George S. and Walter said they 
 never knew Zittau was so lovely. They never had 
 taken the trouble to look at anything but business 
 men before and these specimens are far from pretty. 
 
 I loved these nice Saxon people in their Sunday 
 best listening to the music and enjoying it thorough- 
 ly. Something made me think that the women 
 either did not love music or else they hadn't fire- 
 less cookers, because the crowd was made up mostly 
 of men and children. The neck fixings of the men 
 were particularly interesting. Each and every one 
 fancied a different variety of ''dickey," and in some 
 cases the waistcoat did not hide all the secrets it 
 was supposed to keep from view. 
 
 The soldier cap industry certainly does flourish 
 here. Not only soldiers but schoolboys and also 
 postmen and cabmen all wear the same style of cap 
 — with just the difference in color to let each other 
 know who they are, I suppose. 
 
 I saw a crowd around a little church and I pre- 
 tended it was the church I panted to see, but I 
 
 I26]| . , 
 
afttoaa mith tbe iBop^ 
 
 really wished to see if it was a wedding. I guessed 
 aright. The guests in their party clothes at ii 
 o'clock in the morning, with gay bouquets, feather 
 boas and dress suits, arrived in twos at a time, and 
 separated in the church at the lowest pew down, 
 each couple going one place higher, until when the 
 buxom bride and blushing blonde groom arrived, 
 they walked up to their little flower-decked chairs 
 between two rows of wedding guests. I never saw 
 that done before — did you? (New York papers 
 please copy.) 
 
 Sunday afternoon I was given the wrong impres- 
 sion as to how I was to see the beautiful moun- 
 tains of Oybin and to look down on Zittau as a 
 toy village. My impression was that I was to go 
 up the mountain in a little train, but that is where 
 I was mistaken. The little train had started long 
 since, and Walter and George S. said they were 
 sure I could walk it. The first two hours weren't 
 half bad hanging onto the two men, and it was 
 like living in a moving picture show where we 
 walked between two long rows of real picture pos- 
 tals. I told the boys about that absurd little verse 
 of the Grump who went up in a balloon: 
 
 Up, up and up, he mounted — 
 Till he zvas far above the trees, 
 
 And the houses looked like boxes — 
 And the people seemed like fleas. 
 
 It really was exquisite, and quaint little houses 
 built on a hill. Houses that were never of the 
 same height back and front and nearly always they 
 
 [273 
 
afitoaD mub tfie T5op0 
 
 were painted in two bright colors. I saw one which 
 was an exquisite brown and its upstairs section a 
 bright bird's Qgg blue. 
 
 Everybody had a garden, and nearly everybody 
 had one, two or more enormous glass balls of dif- 
 ferent colors on high poles in among the flower 
 beds. This is done to reflect the sunshine. As v e 
 looked back on Zittau it looked like a play toy and 
 in a little while we could not see it at all. Even the 
 sunset was finishing for the day. The object in 
 keeping on with the walk, I afterwards discovered, 
 was to reach a certain little inn, called Wittigs- 
 chenke, where we could rest a bit, and then we 
 would be within a stone's throw of the upper end 
 of the little railroad we didn't meet earlier in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 I had grown so tired my lips were blue, and cold 
 sweat showed on my forehead. I couldn't even 
 speak. I only smiled and remembered a story I 
 had heard of a criminal who was walked until he 
 confessed his crime from sheer exhaustion. Wal- 
 ter told me afterwards he was terrible frightened 
 about me, and George S., who had been to this lit- 
 tle inn before, kept talking about the good qualities 
 of the beer so I would not think of the bad features 
 of the walk. The beer was really worth having 
 when we finally did get it. With it also came nice 
 clean bread and some very fine Schweitzer cheese. 
 
 Even though it was Sunday afternoon the moun- 
 tain people were having a mild sort of dance. Nice 
 fresh young girls in cotton crepe empire dresses 
 danced so slowly I wondered if they also were tired. 
 
 [28] 
 
afiroan mitb tbt TSopg 
 
 There are lots of linen factories up in the moun- 
 tains and some of the working people have hardly 
 ever even seen the town of Zittau. It isn't just be- 
 cause I'm tired to-day, Daddy, that I feel so thank- 
 ful I don't have to spend the rest of my life in 
 Zittau. It's the way they treat the women. Would 
 you believe it, these women even shovel coal. And 
 the Park Guards, or cleaners, are extremely elderly 
 females with layers of petticoats and with their 
 heads tied up in little shawls. They wear wooden 
 shoes, and their brooms are just a lot of faggots 
 tied to a stick. I even saw old women dragging 
 little wagons, sharing the burden with a large dog — 
 milk-wagons especially. But it reached the extreme 
 limit when I saw an old-time ox-cart being dragged 
 along by two patient, elderly cows. The streets are 
 so narrow, and there is no set rule as to who steps 
 aside on the little one-man-wide sidewalk. 
 
 I have grown to love this quiet little town of 
 alleys and I have seen an awful lot of it. Walter 
 is busy all the time here, and when we go out to 
 walk in the moonlight everybody else seems to be 
 asleep. 
 
 I had my travel-soiled hair washed this morn- 
 ing by the barber person who lived next door to 
 the hotel. He is a skinny little Saxon with a 
 scrappy yellow beard, and a fuzzy green Norfolk 
 jacket. I led him to believe it was my hair I wanted 
 washed when I entered his shop and he guessed as 
 much when I showed him my brush and comb and 
 cake of soap. The conversation was mostly "wig- 
 wag" and I thought it most appropriate for a bar- 
 
 [29] 
 
abtoan mub t&e 15050 
 
 ber shop, but I couldn't tell him so. The little son 
 and heir of the shop returned from school about 
 noontime. He was led into the hair-washing de- 
 partment by his grandmother, and he bestowed 
 upon me a solemn handshake. I was afraid I would 
 get soap in my eyes if I took a very long look at 
 the child, so I just smiled some more "wigwag" 
 talk. 
 
 The barber person's keen delight was quite em- 
 barrassing, as he watched with uncontrolled admira- 
 tion the skill with which, with the aid of a well- 
 washed switch, I could make my ninety-seven hairs 
 appear to be two hundred and sixty. People here 
 seem never to tire of my feet. I have always found 
 them sufficient, but it seems here the women grow 
 them more luxuriantly, and have firmer bases upon 
 which to stand. I am perfectly contented with the 
 size of mine, but they are not considered adequate 
 by the natives here, and they choose to laugh at 
 me. Americans do not often bring their wives to 
 Zittau, and it seems I am a sort of curiosity. We 
 spent the day in Reichenburg, to-day. It is in Bo- 
 hemia, and the hotel is called the Goldene Lowen, 
 and I sat quietly by the window with my tatting, 
 while Walter conversed with the man he came to 
 see. This person, thank goodness, can speak Eng- 
 lish, and he smiles all the time, and he feels that I 
 need nourishment. Therefore, a bottle of the most 
 delicious sweet wine was placed on the window-sill 
 beside me, with lots of the fanciest little fancy cakes 
 I have ever met. We had a fish course with the 
 dinner, and our host, who comes a four hours' ride 
 
 [30] 
 
astoati mm tue i5op$ 
 
 from a much higher spot in the mountains, tells 
 us that his children, who stay in their native city, 
 have never even seen a fish. Imagine being so far 
 inland as all that. 
 
 I have often wondered since if that man thought 
 his wife required as many drinks as he seemed to 
 think so essential to showing Walter's w4fe a nice 
 time. I should be quite dead now if I had taken 
 them all. With the aid of two near dead horses, 
 we later on saw the town. I don't see how those 
 poor old beasts ever managed to run up the cobble- 
 stone hilly streets the way they did, unless it was, 
 as I suggested to Walter, some one had just given 
 them an oat. They didn't die, however, while I was 
 around, and the place where we landed was called 
 "Volks Garten," and lots and lots of chatty old and 
 young and middle-aged females come there in the 
 afternoon and run races with each other as to who 
 knits fastest and to drink beer and listen to the 
 music, thus accomplishing all three things at once, 
 and seemingly having a very pleasant time. 
 
 I was glad not to see those horses again. It was 
 much nicer to walk past some beautiful homes and 
 finally land at a place where the programme led 
 me to believe was called the "Meiningees Variete." 
 There was a stage at the end of the place, and lots 
 and lots of little tables, so close together that the 
 crooking of the arm made necessary by drinking 
 the everpresent beer was more than apt to knock 
 the arm of some one else doing the very same thing. 
 The poor little painted ladies, who did their best 
 to amuse, would edge their way among the tables 
 
 [31] 
 
aiitoao mitb tf)e lBap0 
 
 after their ''stunt" was over, trying to persuade 
 people to buy their picture or book of songs. One 
 man sang funny songs so well that, even though I 
 didn't understand a word, I applauded as loud as 
 anyone because he was so awfully funny. 
 
 [32] 
 
VIENNA. 
 
 It took us and our valises ten long hours to get 
 here, and it was well worth the trip. There wasn't 
 any dining car on the train, and while the boys and 
 myself conversed about our ''gone" feelings, a sweet 
 little foreign lady in the same compartment with 
 us untied a lumpy looking bundle, which proved to 
 be a lunch, and when she offered me a beautiful 
 sandwich, and said in the most charming broken 
 English I have ever heard: "Will you accept this?" 
 I could have kissed her I was so glad. And as 
 there was sufficient to go around, we all devoured 
 them with the relish of a tramp at a back-door, and 
 thus we all became well acquainted. 
 
 I am so glad we met her, she was so charming. 
 She was born in Vienna and lived in Gablonz, in 
 Bohemia, where the paste jewelry is made. Her 
 English was so perfectly lovely that it made me 
 blush all over to remember my French and total 
 lack of German. How much lovelier a woman is 
 who takes the time to study. I wash I had known 
 all this at school. Our stay in Vienna is such a 
 stingy little stay. There is so much to see, so much 
 that is beautiful and so little time to see it. 
 
 The Church of Stephansdom is so perfectly won- 
 derful I am not going to tell you all about it — ■ 
 when it was started and when it was finished, how 
 many square feet it covers, and all that sort of 
 
 [33] 
 
afiroaa Mith tSe 15op0 
 
 thing. I know you don't care a rap about its size. 
 Let the pictures suffice, and take my word for it. 
 It's dreadfully scary inside. The University and 
 the Museum are lovely, but we had to be contented 
 with quick looks from a taxicab. 
 
 The women are so charming here, and the chil- 
 dren are so beautiful, and everything blends with 
 such exquisite taste. I was particularly struck with 
 the economy of the newspaper industry. In Amer- 
 ica two or three people, perhaps, read the same 
 paper; but here dozens do. The coffee houses are 
 most attractive, and it is here that the great masses 
 congregate to read the news while they sip their 
 coffee. I couldn't help but wonder how a young 
 mother who was obliged to remain at home with 
 the baby ever gained the news, because the coffee 
 houses were so full of men, who, being satiated 
 with the news in the coffee houses, need not take 
 the paper home. So many of the men wore what 
 Walter calls a "married man's derby," and they 
 looked like family men. I never really knew what 
 good coffee was before, and I particularly enjoyed 
 the "melange," which is a sort of warm coffee, 
 served in a tall glass with whipped cream flowing 
 over the edges. Isn't this a funny one? Imagine 
 it for America, large compotes of fancy coffee 
 cakes and seeded breads are put on each table, and 
 the waiter positively takes your word how many 
 cakes you eat. If you eat three and you only pay 
 for one he wouldn't dare dispute the loss. But then 
 each customer is obliged to tip two waiters, so even 
 a cheating diner has to make it up anyhow. 
 
 I34] 
 
afitoan muh tu tbop0 
 
 I love the Church of "Mary Helf." It dates 
 back to 1603, and is so quaint and solemn and the 
 beautiful faith of the people just made us all kneel 
 down and be glad to be alive. I have such absolute 
 faith in knowing that a wish will be granted that 
 is asked for solemnly and in earnest on the first 
 visit to a new church that I am storing up some 
 beautiful things for the future. 
 
 Brains, health, wealth and prosperity for all of 
 us. What I want really most George S. and Walter 
 tell me wouldn't be fair to ask, because I never 
 would get it. Publishers to beg me for stories and 
 dressmakers to memorize my shape are the two 
 most important things. 
 
 Last evening we went to the Apollo Theatre. 
 Grandpa wanted to go to the opera and had put on 
 his evening clothes. George S. and Walter had been 
 working all day and they said they would get the 
 fidgets at the opera. They wanted something light, 
 and we got it light. \'\^ould you believe it, Daddy ? 
 There was nothing heavy about the place but the 
 atmosphere, and that was helped along by a man 
 who came out every now and again with an enor- 
 mous tin syringe for all the world like that affair 
 to take the bugs off the rose bushes, and he w^ould 
 squirt a disinfectant into the air that would dis- 
 perse the odor of beer and tobacco smoke for an- 
 other little while. Stupid advertisements would be 
 flashed on the curtain between the acts just to try 
 your patience for what was to follow. The first 
 two acts were of the "common or garden" variety, 
 and I was beginning to wish we had taken Grand- 
 
 [35] 
 
afiroaa mm tu isovs 
 
 pa's advice, when Simone de Beryl took her turn. 
 She wore a pretty httle pink silk union suit, and 
 stood up against a white background simply having 
 to change her pose as one delicious effect after an- 
 other would be flashed her way. 
 
 Just think of the simplicity of being clad merely 
 in imagination, and so becomingly, too. Once she 
 was a peacock. Then again she had a pink chiffon 
 scarf and a blossom tree. Once she was so thickly 
 concealed in a fluffy Japanese costume that only her 
 face and hands showed. After she had been a but- 
 terfly and lots of other things she became the cen- 
 tral "It" in a fountain with real splashing water. 
 Then, when she went home to take a nap, Odette 
 Valery showed what a splendid constitution she had 
 by not catching cold. Dancing around almost en- 
 tirely barefooted to the neck, with the exception of 
 two yards and a quarter of the most delicious shade 
 of deep pink chiffon. She danced with a snake. I 
 never could bear snakes. I didn't see how any 
 woman could tolerate them, and I looked around to 
 see if any of the boys might think I was afraid of 
 the snake, but none of them remembered I was 
 alive. 
 
 Did you have anything in the papers at home 
 about the young King of Portugal? There were 
 lots of pictures of him in the papers here and I do 
 wish I could read German. It's a great disadvan- 
 tage not to understand it, but that's not what I was 
 telling you about. It was petite Gaby Deslys. She 
 acted in a sort of little French play as a sweet young 
 flower girl. Then there was a youth, Francois, who 
 
 [36] 
 
afitoaa mitb tbt OBops; 
 
 sold newspapers and admired little Gaby, and a nice 
 handsome young husband, in a cape coat dnd collap- 
 sible hat. She wore some wonderful clothes and a 
 hat with yards of willow plumes when she danced 
 in a rathskeller. Then there was a dressing scene 
 in a boudoir, and what followed I'll let Walter tell 
 you when he comes home. Finally, the lover and 
 the husband clasped hands with little Gaby between 
 them, and everybody is happy. The boys did not 
 seem to be a bit disappointed about missing the 
 opera. 
 
 [37] 
 
PARIS. 
 
 I have been through such gorgeous country that 
 it scarcely seems real. The little train we were in 
 was really full-size, but it seemed like a play-toy, 
 it was so much smaller than the grandeur around 
 it. The foliage around us was all brown and gold 
 for the autumn, and as the eye would follow the 
 rich beauty of color the greens would turn to gray, 
 and as the mountains met the sky the blue grays 
 would whiten into snow tips. Little streams of ice- 
 cold melted snow ran down the mountains and kept 
 on going and going faster than the train that seemed 
 to be going towards them. Now and then a lonely 
 little home, and then again a village, and tiny people 
 and animals, and now and then a tall chimney of a 
 factory, sometimes a spire of a church, but often 
 little shrines, where a crucifix in a tiny wooden 
 shed with some rocks and bushes around it stands 
 bravely through all weathers for encouragement to 
 travellers. Who could forget God's great love for 
 man when they look at such a country? 
 
 In big cities there is so much to divert people's 
 minds that they sometimes forget, but here alone 
 with sky and nature the soul has a chance to grow. 
 It's gorgeous. Daddy, but even so I don't believe 
 I could thrive here, and it wouldn't be because the 
 air wasn't pure, but, like the great majority of the 
 rest of us, I love a soft rug, a good table and mod- 
 
 [38] 
 
36roalr mm tfie 13op$ 
 
 ern plumbing. It was quite late when we arrived 
 in Innsbruck and the air was so high up in the 
 clouds I could hardly breathe. There wasn't one 
 of us who hadn't cramps in our legs, and the com- 
 partment shrunk to the size of a pill-box before we 
 left it. The room in the hotel was colder than out- 
 doors, and an enormous colored glass chandelier, 
 big enough for a banqueting hall, stood that dread- 
 ful cold without cracking, and the white-tiled chim- 
 ney effect in the corner was really a stove when it 
 was working. But is didn't work. 
 
 In spite of the fact that our call was for 5 130 
 next morning those gay boys said that I may never 
 see Innsbruch again and it seemed as sad to them 
 that I never should as it would be to leave me alone 
 with that awful chandelier. Anyhow, we all had 
 cramps in our legs, so what difference did it make? 
 The air was so queer that we had to run, and nearly 
 everybody in the native line had gone to bed, ex- 
 cept those in one of those ever-open holes in the 
 ground where the beer is always good and there is 
 always something to make it worth the trip. 
 
 This time besides the beer it was the interesting 
 paintings around the wall representing scenes from 
 grand opera, and the kellernerine was really a beau- 
 tiful girl. It was a pity she has to stay up so late. 
 Grandpa told her in German something about the 
 roses on her cheeks, and after that the man brought 
 the rest of the beer. George S. said he never saw 
 such a butter-in as Grandpa, and Walter wouldn't 
 tell me what Grandpa really said. 
 
 [39] 
 
afitoati mUfi tbt T5og0 
 
 It was late night when we reached Paris, and 
 the ride as far as our eyes were concerned was 
 simply gorgeous between naps, but our backs were 
 so tired we couldn't even mention them. I won- 
 der why the stewards hurry you up so with dinner 
 and supper on the train when the dining car is so 
 much more comfortable than the compartments. 
 There are always two kinds of meat besides some 
 awful doughy dessert with lumpy things in it. We 
 managed to have a good time anyway and George 
 S. knew what part of the country we were passing 
 all the time, and we all pretended to believe him 
 because he had such a sure way of telling us just 
 where we were without even seeing the station 
 signs. 
 
 Really, after dark that car was so warm I was 
 afraid we would all be cooked, but Paris was worth 
 it all, as we arrived in the moonlight that was being 
 outdone by the electric lights. The streets w^ere 
 so crowded that everything seemed to move as if 
 in a solid mass. Really, Daddy, I was astonished 
 to see how many people were up so late. Little 
 wicker tables w^th chairs to match are on the side- 
 walks in front of the cafes, and people sit there 
 with their wine and cigarettes and watch the mov- 
 ing throng of people all trying to have a good 
 time. Such wonderful clothes and such painted 
 faces. The women here who enjoy the evening air 
 never seem to wear their faces in the natural state. 
 Always lots of paint. 
 
 Plenty of fashion book clothes and all these little 
 picture people eagerly pushing forward, appar- 
 
 [40] 
 
aiitoaa tOitf) tU TBopsi 
 
 ently going somewhere, and yet they would pass 
 again and again as if looking for something. 
 
 We enjoyed a delicious dinner next day where 
 they have a Turkish-clad colored man, who speaks 
 ofood French and makes his life's work to remem- 
 ber men's hats and sees that each man, no matter 
 how he has dined, receives his own hat on leaving 
 without the help of a check. It's a good thing 
 to do well whatever you have to do, and the red- 
 bloomered person just mentioned had talents to 
 run that way. 
 
 We bought a taxicab for the afternoon, and 
 besides seeing two walking funerals to whom all 
 male passersby respectfully took off their hats, we 
 also saw three wedding parties, where the bride 
 and groom in all their wedding finery sit proudly 
 in the first carriage while the guests follow in other 
 carriages and drive through the Bois du Boulogne. 
 We went as far as Auteuil, the place where they 
 have the races, but it wasn't the season, and I 
 imagine the place is more attractive when it is 
 gayer. 
 
 This eveninsf I shall alwavs remember. We had 
 gone to the Folies Bergeres to see some other 
 things and Otero, the wonderful Spanish dancer. 
 She certainly is wonderful, but I don't see how 
 she can tolerate dancing in her bare feet. I sup- 
 pose because dancing that way is more difficult to 
 do is the reason it is thought so much of nowadays. 
 
 Old French women dressed as ushers push a 
 little wooden stool under every woman's feet as 
 soon as she is seated with a bunch of wraps on her 
 
 [41] 
 
96roan mitb tU lBog0 
 
 lap. Then they come around in a few minutes 
 and demand a tip : "Pour la service." It was 
 lovely to watch other people being caught after 
 we had been. The foyer of the theatre is as large 
 as the theatre itself, I think. There is music there 
 during the intermissions, and the soft red carpet, 
 the palms and the fountain, I imagine are always 
 there. But the moving crowd of people. That's 
 the thing. 
 
 We stood on the balcony and looked down. 
 George S., who knows so much, says that the 
 women who parade around the place, have their 
 clothes given to them to start the fashions, and 
 the dressmakers from all over the world copy Paris 
 styles that they find on these models, who appear 
 to be having such a jolly time. I had actually to 
 look twice, I couldn't believe my eyes, when I saw 
 a radiantly-beautiful girl in a black chiffon velvet 
 evening gown look up at the balcony and recognize 
 me. There was something about the hair, and 
 those soft questioning eyes that I shall never for- 
 get. I recognized at once Marianna Murphy, and 
 she really seemed awful glad to see me. 
 
 The first thing I knew Marianna was fairly fly- 
 ing up the stairs, with a dapper nicely-manicured 
 little Frenchman at her heels. She kissed me. 
 There was no helping it. The boys said if I didn't 
 like it, why didn't I ask them to stand for it for 
 me? But what could I do? There was little 
 Marianna, in a real French party dress, and intro- 
 ducing me to her fiance, if you please. She was 
 going to be married, and she had written to papa, 
 
 [42] 
 
afiroatr muf) the T5og0 
 
 but she hadn't heard from him yet. It is easier 
 to judge from a woman's evening clothes than it 
 is from a man's the exact amount of the bank 
 account, and I do hope Marianna's newly-acquired 
 possession was not a mercenary heiress-hunter. 
 She said she was going to call on me at the hotel 
 next day, and as I told her where we were staying 
 Walter wouldn't let me go back to the hotel until 
 after the theatre, another supper, and then some. 
 So that is how I missed her. But I found her 
 card, and I hope, poor child, her father will be 
 willing to support them both. 
 
 The Paris shops are so exciting and alluring on 
 the outside. But don't cross the threshold unless 
 you intend to purchase. And don't try to pur- 
 chase unless you have more money than self-con- 
 trol. In the Bon Marche, where everybody goes 
 to buy their gloves and silk stockings, any one can 
 walk around perfectly free. Nobody bothers you 
 until you bother them. But in the smaller and 
 more beautiful stores it is quite another matter. 
 The way I found all this accounts for a little 
 bronze lady, done up only in tissue paper, in my 
 hand-bag. I saw the bronze lady sleeping in a shop 
 window, and before Walter knew what had hap- 
 pened I had walked boldly into the shop intending 
 to purchase the treasure. When I heard the price 
 I remembered I needed a hat, and perhaps I did 
 not look so anxious as I had at first. But the 
 shopkeeper host was not to be daunted by the 
 changed expression on an American's face. He 
 thought he would lose a purchaser. So he pro- 
 
 [43] 
 
aiitoaa mit% tu isog^ 
 
 ceeded to entertain us, first by showing us a nice 
 tall bronze girl standing with her bare feet close 
 together, her fingers touched and pointed outward, 
 and when a little music box started to play the 
 arms of the girl slowly opened and her heavy 
 bronze cloak she held moved back with her arms. 
 The whole shop was full of such little surprises. 
 A clothes-brush that played a tune to cheer one 
 while being tidied up, a cane with electric lights 
 in it, another with cigarettes, and so on. Ameri- 
 cans call them catchpennnys. And lots of other 
 lovely little things. But as I say, the shops are 
 not kept open merely to amuse the people, and that 
 is why I have the little bronze lady, and I haven't 
 even taken her out of her box yet. Walter's 
 expression about my taste somewhat dampened my 
 ardor. 
 
 We went for a few restful hours to the Notre 
 Dame. It it magnificent and wonderful. I was 
 awed and delighted, and, tired as my feet were, 
 I rejoiced in them, because I kept thinking of the 
 millions of dead feet that had walked over the very 
 same spot where I was standing. We saw the 
 little church railed off in the middle of the big 
 church, where the altar and steps, candelabra, etc., 
 are just the same as the day when Napoleon and 
 Josephine were married there. The statue of 
 Jeanne d'Arc is exquisite, and so are many others. 
 There is an awfully scary statue of an elderly 
 marble grandfather comiing out of a coffin with 
 the lid partly lifted, and a lady, presumably his 
 marble wife, being very much astonished. 
 
 [44] 
 
atitoati mub tfte 13op& 
 
 Don't think, dear Daddy, I'm not seeing Europe 
 intelligently, only I'm telling you the kind of things 
 you won't find in any other but this home-made 
 scare of a book. There are plenty of guide books 
 for those who want them. I enjoy everything, 
 and do you know, I am travelling a real Madame 
 Sans Gene. Do you know, I don't even know the 
 money, Walter is so considerate. 
 
 [45] 
 
BRUSSELS. 
 
 , For this magnificent city, dear Daddy, I'm going 
 to let you look at the guide-books and picture 
 postals. Let me mention here casually that I am 
 perfectly infatuated with the lace shops and a 
 white wine that is made from white grapes and 
 called some pretty name. It is just the most deli- 
 cious thing I ever tasted. Chablis is the name, in 
 case you should ever meet it. A dear old French 
 lady in the same compartment with us coming from 
 Paris stood on the seat to put her little hand-bag 
 on the rack above her, and unfortunately she put 
 her hip through the window, and the draught from 
 then on was more than we needed. She was so 
 sorry, dear old soul, but we all had to sit with our 
 top-coats on, and she thought that no one saw that 
 it was a rosary she held on her lap under her 
 spread-out handkerchief. Her face was so sweet 
 and placid, she didn't look like the kind of woman 
 who would put her hip through a window. 
 
 The fire at the Exposition must have been a truly 
 dreadful affair, and I have heard that the loss by 
 it can never be replaced, especially to England, 
 which had loaned such a remarkable and rare col- 
 lection of antiques. There were some few things 
 saved, among them a piece of tapestry of rare 
 value, while its companion piece burned to cinders. 
 Just think of the conscience of the man who per- 
 
 [46] 
 
aftroaa mub tfte lBop0 
 
 suaded so many people to lend their treasures to 
 an exhibition. Furniture and silverware that for 
 generations had belonged to the same families 
 were there, and even one man's entire collection of 
 model pieces of furniture, the work of a lifetime. 
 Ail went, as I saw in an English magazine, to serve 
 as fertilizer for the fields of Belgium. 
 
 The Italian marbles were lovely, and so many 
 orders had been taken for reproductions that some 
 of them had cards pinned on them in long strips 
 six or eight yards long. The Rubens building was 
 beautiful. Some one had a glorious imagination 
 in reproducing a said-to-be exact copy of Rubens' 
 studio, and copies of the beautiful original paint- 
 ings we saw in the museum in Berlin. In the 
 woman's building I saw a couple of poor girls 
 making willow plumes and maribou stuffs. Both 
 things were so miserably fuzzy that they would 
 get into the girls' eyes, noses and mouths. Some 
 one always suffers for some other one's vanity. 
 Isn't it strange and hardly fair? 
 
 We had a sauerkraut dinner in one of the exhi- 
 bition buildings. It is the German building, I be- 
 lieve, and the music is lovely. The church chimes 
 are heard every now and then. The place was 
 called Alt Nuremberg. It was rather a sad affair, 
 because we parted company here for a two weeks' 
 separation. Walter was taking me to a little Bel- 
 gian town, where I was to live in a perfectly 
 French household, completely at their mercy, so I 
 imagined then. We were to meet the boys again 
 in London, and go together to Ireland, then to 
 
 [47] 
 
aistoaQ mub tht iBops 
 
 Liverpool to sail for home. Grandpa told me I 
 had regular exposition feet. He had been to so 
 many more expositions than I had, and we all 
 agreed upon the vital subject of being somewhat 
 weary. However, the dinner was cheerful, and 
 George S. said it was his birthday. None of us 
 believed him, and for telling such a shameless one 
 he was obliged to pay for the repast. 
 
 [48] 
 
ISEGHEM, BELGIUM. 
 
 We changed cars at Courtrai, and it was here 
 that we met our Belgian host. He does not speak 
 one word of English, and, as my French comes 
 from the head and not the heart, I had a little 
 difficulty in conversing, until I could become more 
 accustomed to it. Madame, however, is delight- 
 ful, and she wished to practice the English of a 
 one year's study in England in her girlhood. And 
 she wanted me to talk to her in my own tongue, 
 but as far as the children are concerned I just have 
 to talk wigwag to them. My French at school 
 seemed to be good. To these dear sweet Belgian 
 children it is gibberish. There is Julien and 
 Yvonne and Marcel, whose grandfather says he 
 has "uncoeur d'or,'' and Rachel, George and "Pe- 
 tite Coco." Coco is evidently just a love name, 
 because when she edges up sideways for the some- 
 one who is always ready to love her her mother 
 Avill say "she know she Coco." 
 
 The house is entirely unheated except for the 
 big comfortable kitchen, where the canary sings 
 merrily and the potted plants flourish and the most 
 delicious meals are concocted. There is a crucifix 
 over the range, and a little row of shoes warming, 
 while the children wear their felt slippers in the 
 evening. It is here that early in the morning Lora 
 the maid screws the ear-rings into each little girl's 
 
 [49] 
 
astoaD muh tu i3op$ 
 
 ears and helps with buttons and shoe-laces. The 
 dining room is also warm, and it is used as a liv- 
 ing room as well. The great dining table does 
 A^ery nicely for evening games. There was a piano 
 in this room, and, as all the children are home 
 from boarding school for the Saints' days (they 
 come the last of October and are holidays,) the 
 piano is working all the time. Isn't it nice here, 
 instead of a holiday on Saturday the free day for 
 school children is Thursday. So the children, 
 therefore, do not have two off days together the 
 way they do at home. The house here is so awfully 
 cold and the hall has its full share of chills, having 
 walls and floor of cold clean white marble. And 
 the bed-rooms have the windows open all the time. 
 And the floors are painted to look like carpets. No 
 one seems to have the everlasting colds in which 
 the Americans indulge, and we both feel so well it 
 would be a mighty poor time for either Walter 
 or myself to have to order winter furnace coal or 
 logs for the fireplace. 
 
 The streets are narrow in this little Belgian 
 town, and a one-story house or a tiny shop will be 
 close to an imposing four-story dwelling. Nearly 
 every house of any prominence whatsoever has an 
 old-fashioned reflector, or "busy-body" out of the 
 best parlor window. This arrangement is care- 
 fully brought in at night when all the shutters 
 are locked downstairs. On the smaller streets 
 about every tenth house will have an old-time fagot 
 broom outside the door half-raised as if for a flag- 
 pole. This does not indicate, as I imagine, that 
 
 [50] 
 
abtoati mitb tU T5op0 
 
 the brooms or brushes are made there, but rather 
 it is a sign as well known as the barber poles, 
 meaning that the door below is the entrance to a 
 public eating place, where the dreadful sour Bel- 
 gian beer is sold. A smelly oily lamp makes the 
 place cheerful in the evening, and the open door 
 serves the same purpose in the day-time. The 
 brush industry flourishes almost as extensively as 
 the linen manufactures here. The latter are most 
 interesting. 
 
 At four o'clock in the morning you can hear 
 the clanking of wooden shoes on the cobble stones 
 as the linen workers are hurrying to work. 
 
 The beautiful science of plumbing has not 
 reached this picturesque little town as far as I have 
 been able to see, except for one large cold water 
 spigot in the kitchen sink and another not quite 
 so large but much colder in the garden. There is 
 something nice about that garden, however, and its 
 great delicious Belgian pear trees. The same pears 
 that we see at home in pink waxed papers and cot- 
 ton batting in the windows of the fruit stores grow 
 here in this very garden. The trees from their 
 infancy are trained to stick close to the wall, and 
 the branches are bent sideways, then up, forming 
 most pleasing square effects. And those big deli- 
 cious grapes that only sick people at home ever 
 have, grow here in a little glass house and hang in 
 heavy clusters from the ceiling. Fruit is always 
 called "dessert," and the wonderful concoction 
 from the "patissier de fin" is called the "sweet." 
 
 [51] 
 
mtmn mitb tu i5op0 
 
 It is usually elaborate and exciting, at least for 
 company. 
 
 It was good to get back to the nice big warm 
 dining room after this afternoon, when we all went 
 in our host's comfortable touring car to an open 
 field some miles away to see a biplane perform. 
 The noisy little French person who risked her life 
 for our amusement wore a gray divided skirt, with 
 old-fashioned bicycle clamps, holding it around 
 her ankles. She also wore a long white woollen 
 sweater and cap and borrowed a "journal' ' to put 
 over her breast for her bird-like flight. I had the 
 same nervous uncomfortableness as I always have 
 when I see circus people on the stage or in a tent 
 risking their lives on a trapeze or in a high pyra- 
 mid of themselves. It seems so useless, and yet 
 we could not help but enjoy anything so wonder- 
 ful. Just before the little wheels leave the ground 
 the propeller goes so fast that the draught it makes 
 sends dry leaves skiting along with people's hats. 
 It is an awe-inspiring sight to see anything leave 
 the earth with such agility and to watch it until 
 it is no larger than the gulls that follow the sea- 
 going ships. Finally, the affair turns and comes 
 back to the very spot it left a while ago, and flut- 
 tering like a bird, it alights with wonderful grace. 
 Personally, I should prefer an automobile. The 
 comfort of a closed car with electric light on a 
 drizzly night appeals to me far more than daring 
 to defy the laws of gravity in an air-ship. 
 
 I'm glad to-day is Sunday. I just feel like a 
 nice rest with my own people in this book. Last 
 
 [52] 
 
9:6roa5 mitb t6e I5op0 
 
 night for supper we had large platters full of "cre- 
 vette," and in real English they are called little 
 pink shrimps. The noon-day meal is always so 
 elaborate that supper is always a thick beefsteak 
 and something else. Madame has confided to me 
 that a thick steak of this kind, enough to serve 
 twelve people, costs all of two francs, that is, about 
 forty cents. The "something else" proved to be, 
 in this case, the shrimps. That, as I said, was 
 served on two enormous platters and eaten with 
 the fingers. 
 
 Julien sat next to me, and, in spite of his manly 
 efforts to teach me in pantomime just how I should 
 twist the little pink affairs to make them come out 
 of their shells, I would be sure to break nearly all 
 of them. Last night we had raw oysters for the 
 surprise, and they were served on the same two 
 enormous platters, and had their lids on. They 
 had been loosened, but the top shell was there all 
 right. Every one eats at least a dozen. The rea- 
 son for this unusual display of sea-food stuffs was 
 because we had been to Ostend, and there our host 
 ordered the seashore products. While we were 
 enjoying our supper two friends of the children 
 dropped in for a few minutes' call. The boy had 
 received a soldier uniform only ten days ago, and 
 Julien was anxious to try on the great top-coat, hat 
 and belt. The oldest son in every Belgian house- 
 hold becomes a soldier when he is eighteen years 
 old. He must live at the barracks, but has the 
 privilege to continue his education at his parents' 
 expense, of course. 
 
 [53] 
 
abroaa mub tht iBops 
 
 His sister seemed so proud of him that it evi- 
 dently is considered a nice thing- to be eighteen 
 and a soldier. Of course, our trip to Ostend was 
 in a gorgeous car, and Jules, the chauffeur, is evi- 
 dently weather-proof, because the day was far from 
 fair, except for the cheerful laughter inside the 
 car. Our first stop was at the beautiful ancient 
 city of Bruges. The sun came out for us and the 
 chimes were musically announcing the noon hour. 
 We saw the town hall with the old paintings that 
 represented different historic events that have 
 taken place in Bruges. The room in which the 
 paintings are exhibited is really magnificent, with 
 a fireplace at one end fully ten feet high and above 
 the mahogany wainscoting around this famous 
 "great hall" are twelve beautiful paintings. They 
 represent : "Return of the Brugeois from the Bat- 
 tle of the Golden Spurs at Courtrai in 1302," "The 
 Foundation of the Order of the Golden Fleece by 
 Philip of Burgundy at Bruges in 1413." One of 
 the paintings represents a church scene in iioi, 
 and still another shows the method of printing by 
 movable type in Bruges by John Britto in 1446. 
 Of course, the paintings are modern; it's only the 
 story they tell that's old. But the colors are so 
 lovely and the horses and dogs in them so exquisite. 
 All of the principal places in Bruges that the trav- 
 eller just must not miss are together circling a 
 large open space. The church is next to the town 
 hall and the hotel close beside them. The church 
 is called the Chappelle du Saint Sang, and it was 
 
 [54] 
 
aftroap mat) m iBogg 
 
 built in 1 6 19, and the chapel under it in 844. The 
 original floor of this chapel has been covered over 
 except in one little space v^here a little dark altar 
 stands in a corner. There was a tiny light burn- 
 ing there, and also little wax objects representing 
 the part of the person who has been cured of some 
 fearful ailment by faith and prayers in the little 
 chapel. There were lots of tiny wax legs, and 
 arms and heads, each about four inches long, and 
 one pair of crutches about large enough for a boy 
 of ten. 
 
 I should love to know the story that belonged to 
 those poor discarded crutches. The guide who 
 took us through the church would lift up part of 
 the floor with a big ring like a cellar door and he 
 would explain in a big solemn voice just who it 
 was who was buried in that dreadful dark hole. 
 To see the upstairs we must go out intO' the street 
 again. Up a few steps and obey a sign which 
 says to ring the bell. We all pay another quarter 
 apiece and this time have a young girl guide, who 
 talks such quick French that we cannot understand 
 a word. But in a little while I understood why 
 the precaution was taken to allow only a few peo- 
 ple at a time and then only in this part of the 
 church with a guide. The possessions are so pre- 
 cious. We saw one solid silver massive altar and 
 another carved wooden one that was as exquisite 
 as a cameo. Then, in one of the upstairs rooms, 
 there was a collection of paintings. Some of them 
 w^ere attributed to Van Eyck. They were framed 
 
 [55] 
 
afitoau caJitf) t&e TBop0 
 
 like the little three-piece mirrors that fold up, and 
 we were told the reason the colors were so won- 
 derfully preserved was because they were painted 
 with white of eggs and wax. Such faith as one 
 puts in a guide who is supposed to know and im- 
 parts information so glibly that it wouldn't seem 
 dignified to doubt. We saw many other wonder- 
 ful treasures here besides the ^'Relic" in a wonder- 
 ful case of gold and real precious stones that had 
 been donated by kings and cjueens. There is even 
 a little crown hanging in this wonderful gold affair. 
 It is all under a heavy glass case and is riveted to 
 a stand. Bruges, like many other European cities, 
 has water streets, with bridges and houses that 
 should they have cellars most certainly would be 
 damp. 
 
 Into the car we all climbed again to proceed on 
 our way to Ostend. I have much more to tell you 
 of Ostend than merely to waste time on that splen- 
 did dinner, but had we not been fortified with the 
 extra weight and warmth of that dinner and its 
 wines I am sure we would have been blown off that 
 fearful draughty boardwalk. Never have I felt 
 such a persistent draught except on the very front 
 of a steamer. I imagine Ostend in season is a 
 very delightful place, almost as nice as Atlantic 
 City, but not quite, except for the ''Kursaal," which 
 is an enormous building that was resting for the 
 winter. It was here the late King of Belgium, 
 Leopold II, entertained his friends. There was a 
 large golden bust of the monarch in the lobby that 
 I have no doubt caused him a great deal of pride. 
 
 [56], 
 
afetoaD mitb tfte 15op0 
 
 It was well he was too dead to hear what our dear 
 Belgian friends said about him as they passed his 
 portrait. This wonderful "Kursaal," I imagine, 
 is a very imposing sight when it is at its very gay- 
 est, with plenty of dancing, music, gambling, dar- 
 ing and sinning. What those old walls could tell 
 us would be interesting indeed, but all in French. 
 It seemed almost undignified to see the place thus 
 in negligee, with its enormous chandeliers in the 
 ball-room lowered to the floor and swathed in 
 huge white cloths. And all the red plush divans 
 covered with still more dust-proof clothes. I 
 know they were red plush. One of the Belgian 
 children wanted to peep and I helped him. By 
 the way, those little boys drink wine as freely as 
 the grownups. Their parents never hesitate to 
 give it to them, and they never seem to feel it. 
 Such wonderfully healthy children as they are, too. 
 In all that bitter cold they were bare-legged and 
 never seemed to notice the cold at all. 
 
 One day before we left our friends we were 
 taken to see the wonderful lace that is made in this 
 country. You who know my penchant for real 
 lace can imagine my delight. Why, I was simply 
 distracted. The lace was displayed in the home of 
 a relative of our hostess, who is a thoroughly 
 charming woman. The lace is made by the peas- 
 ant women and they bring it to her. She then has 
 is made up into the thousand and one things that 
 are of value to the very wealthy of America and 
 kings and queens. 
 
 From the tiny tumbler doily to a magnificent bed- 
 
 [57] 
 
afitoaD muh tht T5op0 
 
 spread, all in the tiniest stitches of handwork, the 
 lace was displayed on a large blue plush screen, 
 where it would stick without being held. Madame 
 and her picturesque maid, Bette, would show us one 
 creation after another, each being more charming 
 than the last. 
 
 I was really distressed to leave our Belgian 
 friends. They have taught me so much that I 
 shall never forget. 
 
 [58] 
 
AMSTERDAM-HOLLAND. 
 
 Six hours after leaving Brussels we arrived in 
 Amsterdam, with an accent on the last syllable. It 
 was I 130, and a pitch-black rainy night. Our pos- 
 sessions were on top of a cab, from which we had 
 just alighted to be greeted with the cheerful news 
 that Walter's advance message to hold a room for 
 us had not been received, and every room in the 
 hotel was occupied. I was hungry, too, and terri- 
 bly tired, and I tried not to remember I had a home. 
 And I just wouldn't let myself think of you and 
 the girls. I even tried to engage Walter in a pleas- 
 ant conversation while we waited in the night clerk's 
 little office watching him being unsuccessful as he 
 would call up one hotel after another to hear them 
 say the place was "complet," as they say of the 
 street cars in Paris. After awhile a place was 
 found where we could rest ourselves and a Dutch 
 bed is better than no bed at all at that time of 
 night. And when the morning with its sunshine ar- 
 rived things didn't seem half bad. When we looked 
 out of the window to see what size hurdy-gurdy 
 could make such loud music we saw a beautiful city 
 with water streets. There is no railing along the 
 sidewalks, and I don't see what it is that prevents 
 the entire population from drowning in their thor- 
 oughfares. Of course, grownups know what to ex- 
 pect, but I should think the children would have to 
 
 [59] 
 
astoaB mub tu tbops 
 
 have an experience to keep them on their guard. 
 Talk about economy. A two-cent car ticket will 
 bring you back to the hotel again, with its return 
 stub, but you have to remember to take the same 
 numbered car. The cars all have numbers over here, 
 and you have to remember the correct number and 
 not to rely on the signs the way we do at home. 
 The numbers are large and at the upper end of the 
 trolley pole. It was in the Museum that we met the 
 funniest and most friendly guide that it has so far 
 been our luck to encounter. He briefly called Wal- 
 ter "gentleman," and he told us even more than was 
 due us at twenty cents an hour. I believe that man 
 could make a fortune on the Keith circuit if he 
 would be contented to be just himself. I was so 
 sorry the other boys were not with us. They would 
 have loved that person. Another friendly way he 
 had was to pick up a New York widow, whom he 
 had guided the day before. He met her in the 
 Museum, and, after whispering to her awhile, he 
 came over to us as first customers. He felt it due us 
 to know if we objected to having the lady "guided" 
 with us also. Indeed, we didn't. She bubbled over 
 with fun, and to use her own expression the only 
 foreign language she knew was "table d'hote 
 French." I can't leave that Museum without tell- 
 ing you some of the things we saw. First of all, 
 about the famous "Night Watch," by Rembrandt. 
 It has a room all to itself, and it is worth an entire 
 suite. Why, the thing seems fairly alive. It's al- 
 most uncanny, and I don't wonder the people here 
 love that picture so much. We saw plenty more 
 
 [60]; 
 
afitoao mub tu iBop0 
 
 pictures and lots of old china, furniture and even 
 old carriages that had been discarded by kings and 
 queens, and I was particularly delighted with the 
 dress of Madame de Pompadour. I kept thinking 
 how she had said ''Apres nous la deluge" for the 
 benefit of school-books, and I don't wonder she was 
 a luxury-loving person. She didn't even have to 
 carry her own parasol, and the person who did have 
 to carry it was obliged on account of her hoops 
 and train to walk so far behind that the parasol 
 handle had two hinges in it. There were her little 
 wooden-looking shoes wnth square toes and red 
 heels and her fan and fichu. And all these things 
 have lasted as perhaps your possessions and mine 
 will last after our souls have gone to meet their 
 fate and our bodies are dust for worms. That is 
 not a pleasant thought, but this prowling around 
 among antiques and looking at the lasting things 
 that belonged to people who have gone and who 
 not by wishing could have added one inch to their 
 stature or one day to their lives set me thinking. 
 It's good to be alive, and it's wise to make the best 
 of it while we have it. 
 
 "While we live we live in clover; 
 When we're dead were dead all over!* 
 
 The Museum closes at three and we were fairly 
 hustled through long rows of glass cases, filled with 
 life-size wax figures of men, women and children 
 dressed in the native Dutch costumes of genera- 
 tions gone by. Even jewelry bedecked these scary 
 
 [6i] 
 
afiroao muh tSe 15oy$ 
 
 things, and the clothes were wonderful and dread- 
 ful, and probably at the time they were made were 
 the subjects of much consideration. I was particu- 
 larly taken with the information that was given to 
 us as honest truth that in the days gone by in Hol- 
 land the orphans were obliged to wear a distinctive 
 garb to distinguish them as parentless. We saw 
 the outlandish affair they were supposed to wear, 
 and what is more this guide person told us that the 
 Catholic and Protestant orphans were obliged to 
 dress differently in small matters like the arrange- 
 ment of a hat brim or the lapels of a coat. 
 Imagine Americans standing for any distinctive 
 sign of belief showing in their apparel, except, of 
 course, nuns, or Salvation Army lassies. Why, I 
 know a woman whom even the wedding ring hurts. 
 One of the reasons I didn't believe everything that 
 guide person said, was because of a rare and an- 
 cient Delft cow in a glass case that evidently was a 
 possession of rare value. He led Walter to it 
 solemnly and in a dramatic tone remarked: "Gen- 
 tleman, a bull." But the way he pronounced it was 
 the funniest part of it all. All this happened on 
 Friday afternoon, and the guide led us to believe 
 he had a wonderful treat in store for us. He led 
 us through the mud-covered streets of Amsterdam, 
 always tripping ahead with that friendly smile, and 
 every now and then stopping to give us a little 
 treatise on something or other and explaining things 
 so graphically that several times we had quite a 
 little crowd around us. He took us to a Jewish 
 synagogue, where women were not welcome, and 
 
 [62] 
 
aiitoaD mitb tbt tbop0 
 
 the widow and myself were taken to the first row 
 balcony and were hidden behind a cross-barred 
 w^ooden screen affair. Then men and boys were 
 singing downstairs, and their voices were magnifi- 
 cent. It was a most impressive spectacle, and the 
 place was entirely lighted by candles, and there were 
 sufficient of them to make it quite brilliant. 
 
 He took us to another synagogue, and then to 
 the Catholic Church of Moses and Aaron. It was 
 a beautiful church and I should have liked to have 
 seen the carvings in a better light, but we were hur- 
 ried through a side passage and stopped for one 
 stingy peep into the priests' kitchen, w^hich was the 
 whitest and bluest I have ever seen. The range 
 was set deep in its own little cubby hole, and a 
 clean white valance was stretched above it. There 
 was also a beautiful old-fashioned secretary and 
 mirror hanging over it. It was, indeed, a most 
 picturesque kitchen. 
 
 Before we left our friend for the day he took us 
 to a place where we could find something to warm 
 us up after our walk through so much drizzle and 
 dampness. Two old Dutch ladies, with their dresses 
 buttoned up fearfully tight with hard, marble-like 
 buttons, kept the place. All around the wall were 
 old-fashioned jugs and bottles. Some of them 
 seemed to be lacquer ware and were hand-painted 
 with dark views. There were lots of customers 
 crowded into the little shop and around the one 
 counter, where the wonderful cordial was placed in 
 a little wide-rimmed glass, so full that every one has 
 to stoop over and place their lips to the glass before 
 
 [63] 
 
a&roaa Witl} tU IBops 
 
 they can raise it. The widow, the guide, Walter 
 and myself all indulged in this delicious affair 
 called Wynand Fockink — and this particular cordial 
 is ''half en half," and it goes where it is most 
 needed. In my case, I think it was my toes. 
 
 I should like to transport those old ladies, their 
 shop, their methods and their cordials, the wide 
 open door and the little sink to wash the sticky 
 glasses — everything just as it is — to the busiest 
 corner on Broadway, and then when Carnegie was 
 a poor man compared with me — I would send the 
 old ladies home to die with the Dutch. 
 
 I was told not to leave Amsterdam without go- 
 ing to Krasnopolsky's. You don't say that word. 
 You just spell it. The music is perfectly delight- 
 ful there, and the food is all right. But it was the 
 flowers that delighted me most. It's just an enor- 
 mous conservatory restaurant, called the "Winter- 
 tuin." The flowers are gorgeous and in such splen- 
 did condition for a place with so many people go- 
 ing in and out all the time. Prize chrysanthemums 
 and great big palms and hanging baskets with 
 blended greens and long strings of ivy, and then 
 through a little door at the end into a garden spot, 
 with pebbled walks and borders of real flowers 
 growing indoors. And orchids, and lilies, with 
 bows of gauze ribbon tied on them. It is really 
 lovely. There is lots more to Holland beside the 
 cheese markets, and the little villages with the wind- 
 mills and the flat canal boats on which people live 
 and seemingly in safety. I saw plenty of pictures 
 of the Queen and ''Het Primsenje," which means 
 
 [64] 
 
abroao mub tU "iBops 
 
 a real live baby girl who will be queen herself some 
 day. 
 
 In spite of it all we left Holland and took the 
 night boat, where we slept so good and sound we 
 were not ready to be awakened at five o'clock the 
 next morning by the herald of the ship with his 
 trumpet, warning all people they were in England, 
 and that a train was ready to take them to London. 
 Why, would you believe it. Daddy, even the ad- 
 vertisements in the train looked good to me. Eng- 
 lish is a beautiful language and I missed it. Ger- 
 man and French are musical, and lead us on to 
 Holland, with all the unnecessary j's, i's and w's 
 until I was distracted with their awful language. 
 And it certainly was a relief to see and hear Eng- 
 lish again. 
 
 [65] 
 
LONDON. 
 
 Sunday morning is by no means the best time to 
 meet London, but then it's nice and quiet for just 
 looking. But every place is closed. We kept our 
 eyes open, and we didn't exactly die. It was Wal- 
 ter's idea to take an old-time hansom cab, instead 
 of a taxi, to go for an afternoon's outing. His idea 
 was that I would see more leisurely than if we hur- 
 ried by in an automobile. The idea was all right. 
 The trouble was with the cabman. He was swathed 
 in layers of rags, and looked as if Dickens had writ- 
 ten him up and Cruikshanks had drawn him down. 
 We managed to get considerable fun out of him, 
 and that driving slow idea of Walter's was all 
 right. The poor beast was nearly dead, anyhow, 
 and the old cabby's ''Do you know this place, sir?" 
 was lots of fun until we got tired of it. 
 
 What a wonderful place this London is, and so 
 delightful to view the scenes we have all read about. 
 I had read "The Greatest Wish in the World" com- 
 ing over on the steamer, and I went through Lon- 
 don with his book people. To go back to the old 
 driver, he drove us around for about two hours, 
 when he suddenly became overcome with thirst, and, 
 being pretty much at his mercy, we just patiently 
 waited in front of a little speak-easy (and it was 
 Sunday in London), until our old man returned. 
 It was all a bluff. He didn't intend taking us back 
 
 [66], 
 
96roaD mUb the TBogg 
 
 just then. He only wished to borrow two cents 
 to fee another drunken old soul, who held his 
 wild beast's head while our old man refreshed him- 
 self with "still another." He evidently liked the 
 Tower Bridge because he drove us forward and 
 back on that magnificent structure several times. I 
 have a fine photograph of it, but I didn't get it 
 then. I have some other good photographs of Lon- 
 don — Westminster Abbey, Ludgate Hill and St. 
 Paul's, the Thames Embankment, showing the Ho- 
 tel Cecil, Cleopatra's Needle and Somerset House. 
 I have another of the Marble Arch, also Fleet 
 Street and Rotten Row. You will like them, I 
 know. The Bank of England and Royal Exchange 
 and Piccadilly Circus didn't feel unlike New York. 
 When we passed Buckingham Palace the old cabby, 
 not at all impressed with the country's rulers, called 
 our attention to the numerous guards around the 
 palace, and called them "a lazy lot of 'ounds." 
 
 Sunday was over after awhile, and it gave me 
 considerable time to write while Walter slept, and 
 to-morrow morning we wall meet the boys again. 
 They will be here at the hotel in time for breakfast. 
 Good night, dear Daddy^ the amount of printed 
 matter I am toting around in my valise will show 
 you more of the country than I am setting down 
 here. 
 
 This is Lord Mayor's Day, and we are all ex- 
 citement. George S. and Grandpa look fine and 
 fatter than ever. They were both togged off in 
 English clothes, and they fairly bubbled over with 
 fun, and so did we, and to-day has been one long 
 
 [671 
 
afiroaa mUb tSe ISopg 
 
 joy day. Grandpa has had the gout under his pearl- 
 colored spats, and the hotel doctor told him he must 
 give up all red things, like wine and beef and ties. 
 He tried it for almost four days. Then he gave up 
 his doctor. And to-day when we indulged in a de- 
 licious macaroni-by-the-yard dinner at a very attrac- 
 tive Italian place on the Strand, Grandpa had a 
 toe and a conscience that hurt together. Every time 
 he tasted that delicious Chianti stuff that comes in 
 the strawcovered bottles with red and green worsted 
 tassels he would remark: "I really shouldn't do 
 this," and it seemed to comfort him somewhat to 
 talk about it. So if he would forget it for awhile, 
 I would remind him of it. The town was gayly 
 decorated with flags and bunting, and garlands of 
 make-believe flowers, festooned across the streets. 
 Everybody wore a holiday manner, and in some 
 places we saw people stationed on the streets will- 
 ing to wait for four hours that they might have 
 front-row places when the "show" would pass. We 
 were most fortunate to secure a little balcony with 
 rugs hanging over the railing, and really the crowd 
 was as interesting to watch as the "show" itself, 
 which to my American mind, was of the "common 
 or garden" variety of street parade. Some of the 
 historical costumes seen were interesting. The first 
 Lord Mayor of London was Henry Fitz-Alwin 
 from 1 189 until 12 12. The gentleman wore petti- 
 coats and so did his knights with union suits of 
 armor showing through their sheath skirts. The 
 next was Sir John Philpot — 1378. Not only petti- 
 coats but trains also were worn by the gentlemen in 
 
 [68] 
 
aijtoaa mitb tbt isop^ 
 
 this little party, except for the very brief kilt on 
 the soldiers. Dick Whittington came next all the 
 way to 1 419. He appears grown up and his cat 
 is not with him. Sir Richard Gresham comes next. 
 They are all dressed like Henry VHI's. Then, Sir 
 Thomas Myddelton, but the next, with John Wilkes, 
 in 1775, wear bright scarlet coats, and are of the 
 variety that every true-born American school-boy 
 thoroughly despises when he first meets them in 
 his history book. All the boys with me acknowl- 
 edged biting the heads off their British leaden sol- 
 diers while studying the Boston Tea Party part of 
 their American history. To go back to the show. 
 Robert Waithman, with gold cords and tassels, led 
 us on to the present-day Lord Mayor. Seated in 
 a coach of state for all the world like the lovely 
 affair Cinderella's grandmother made out of a 
 pumpkin. 
 
 Colored people are by no means familiar sights 
 over here, but on holida3^s men blackened like min- 
 strels, go around the streets and play the banjo and 
 guitar in front of a crowded balcony or window. 
 
 Over here prizes are given to the best-kept work- 
 ing horses, and it is by no means an unfamiliar 
 sight to see a fine, vrell-groomed horse with ten or 
 twelve prizes on its harness, and the poor patient 
 animals must submit to the petting of nearly every 
 passerby. I have seen well-dressed young women 
 go up to a horse harnessed to an ash-wagon and 
 fondle the horse's handsome head while they talked 
 about his charms to his master. 
 
 One of the waiters in this hotel has a very *'cor- 
 
 [69] 
 
aiitoaD mub tbt isop^ 
 
 dial manner," so George S. says, because he has a 
 little two-story go-cart fitted out with nice things 
 to drink and smoke, and where the coffee is served 
 in the evening he goes around with his little rubber- 
 tired pushcart. It's such a nice complete little af- 
 fair, with each cordial in its own little compart- 
 ment, and he sells cigarettes, one or two at a time, 
 as well as a shilling a box. 
 
 Maybe we didn't see a lovely thing this after- 
 noon, and I understand it's a regular affair with 
 this certain hunt club when they give their annual 
 dinner to celebrate the opening of the hunting sea- 
 son. The Lady Patroness comes out on the up- 
 stairs veranda, and beside her there is a little stove 
 vi^ith a pan on it full of pence and ha' pennies, and, 
 with the aid of a little coal shovel, she throws these 
 scorching hot coins down on the crowd below. Oh, 
 it was a jolly sight and Tm sure. Daddy, you and 
 the girls would have loved it. I managed to get 
 two ha' pennies, and they were hot ones, too. I 
 hope I won't spend them by mistake the way I did 
 the pewter franc I was saving that the guide in the 
 Notre Dame had no scruples about passing onto 
 us. There was one man in the crowd who was hav- 
 ing a lovely time. He was catching hot coins in 
 an inverted umbrella. He really didn't need the 
 money, as he wasn't that kind of a person. He 
 would throw the money back again to a crowd of 
 kiddies. 
 
 One of the most artistic shops I have ever seen 
 is here in London, where the shop-girls wear soft 
 brown or moss green cashmere, well-made clothes 
 
 [70] 
 
aijroaB mm tu tbops 
 
 to match their departments. I asked an English- 
 man this morning if he didn't think them charming, 
 and he looked down at me over his glasses, and 
 without a sign of a smile he simply and sufficiently 
 remarked : "Entirely too much side, madam," 
 and I don't think "side" means charm. The little 
 errand girls wear pale green or coffee-colored pina- 
 fores, and they were such sweet-looking children, 
 with pretty gracious manners and graceful soft 
 curls or plaits. Americans w^ould call them "broil- 
 ers." The French say "bockfishe." Old-fashioned 
 folk say "at the hobbledehoy age," but every one 
 says "Sweet sixteen." The boys with me did, 
 anyhow. 
 
 We w^ent to the Drury Lane Theatre to see "The 
 Whip" last evening and part of the night, I was 
 about to remark, that it certainly was a lengthy 
 session. There were four acts and twelve scenes, 
 and all of them interesting and unusual. One 
 scene was in Madame Tussaud's museum of wax 
 works in the Chamber of Horrors. I thought of 
 the child who was taken to the Eden Musee and 
 screamed with fright, whose mother said to it : 
 "You have to enjoy yourself; I paid fifty cents to 
 get you in here." There was a child in this show 
 who didn't seem to enjoy it either, and he was 
 simply called a "nasty kid" because he didn't enjoy 
 wax figures and murderers. I think I heard one 
 man say this play had been in London more than 
 a year, and we will have it at home some day. 
 There was a railroad accident, where people seemed 
 to be flung about, and the car was burned to cin- 
 
 [71] 
 
afitoaD mm m iBog^ 
 
 ders, and all in a dazzling red light to help make 
 things look more real. And all told it was a very- 
 good effect, but a very dreadful calamity. We 
 expected to take the night train for Scotland next 
 night, and it didn't make me overly comfortable 
 to thinks of things that might happen. I was try- 
 ing not to think about them, and was looking down 
 as I left the theatre, when I saw something shine. 
 I picked up about as handsome a gold neck chain 
 as I have ever seen. No one near me had an 
 anxious look as I could see, and hard as I looked 
 around the place, I didn't find a diamond pendant 
 to dangle on it. So some day you will see me wear 
 it with merely gratification. What is it in people 
 that makes us all love something for nothing. I 
 don't believe there is any one who can truly say 
 they don't enjoy anything they find, something they 
 only own by chance. It's something like the sen- 
 sation of winning a bridge prize, or striving to pos- 
 sess a loving cup in a golf tournament. It is so 
 much easier to say: "Isn't this lovely? I found 
 it or won it," whereas one would feel a hesitancy 
 about praising before others things they have 
 bought and paid for, especially to people who either 
 have too much discretion or too little wherewithal 
 to purchase unnecessary possessions. 
 
 The day of the Lord Mayor's Show was also the 
 late King's birthday, and on our way home we 
 stopped in Westminster Abbey for the memorial 
 services. I am afraid my mind was more on the 
 magnificence of the edifice than on the eulogy. 
 Also, I sat in a pew under a monument with two 
 
 [72] 
 
afitoaD mm tfte 15og0 
 
 marble people lying dead on the top, and about 
 four times I read the inscription which was mostly 
 about what a very superior soldier was buried 
 there with his second wife. We were informed 
 by reading- the stone letters that she was a faith- 
 ful and comforting wife, an incentive to good 
 deeds also in battle. I felt glad that there was 
 very little likelihood that Walter w^ould ever have 
 a marble image of himself over his tomb, and I 
 resolved to be wonderfully wholesome that never 
 should his ashes remain to be read about beside a 
 second wife. Think of the agonized jealous soul 
 of that soldier's first wife, who, probably, raised 
 his children for him, mended his underwear and 
 armor, and planned endless meals, and now sees 
 him resting comfortably in Westminster Abbey 
 beside Margaret, with all the nice things being said 
 about her. I felt so indignant for her that Grandpa 
 suggested a regular party dinner would perhaps 
 help to make me more wholesome and also be 
 rather comforting before our long night's ride. 
 
 George S. went in one taxi with all the lug- 
 gage (no one knows how uncomfortable those um- 
 brellas, valises and strapped-up streamer rugs were 
 at times), and Grandpa, Walter and myself were 
 comfortably settled in a smelly old horse-cab. Not 
 having to hold any luggage sort of compensated 
 for other disadvantages about our conveyance, and 
 the windows were opened anyhow. We told our 
 man to follow the taxi, but he lost it, and he took 
 us to the wrong station, and by the time we all 
 arrived where we ought to be George S. was hav- 
 
 [73] 
 
afitoaD mit^ tlje lBop0 
 
 ing a fit on the station platform. He couldn't have 
 the luggage stored in their compartments because 
 Walter and Grandpa had their own tickets. Really, 
 for a nice man like George S., he was unusually 
 peevish and perverse this evening. I wasn't sorry 
 to be quickly hustled into a little compartment with 
 Walter, and I felt like laughing and crying at the 
 same time. That railroad accident in "The Whip" 
 and the lobster for supper combined to m.ake my 
 night ride on that cold little shelf of a bed anything 
 but pleasant. Even with the warmth of the 
 steamer rug I was so cold that Walter put his 
 overcoat over me, and it weighed a ton, I think. 
 I thought the second story of a penny bus wobbled 
 as much as anything could, but when I thought that 
 I didn't know of the night express between London 
 and Edinburgh. 
 
 They are having heavy snow *^in the north," 
 the chambermaid told me while she was making a 
 fire in our chilly little hotel room, but I think she 
 must have been mistaken. The snow probably had 
 been in that very room just before we entered. 
 However, our breakfast was so lovely and warm 
 and our letters so cheerful and welcome, and we 
 had real scones with our coffee. You remember 
 how often you have heard me say : "Nannie, 
 your scones are delicious," like Gavin Diesart, the 
 "little minister" in Barrie's famous story, v/here 
 Babbie and the "minister" have breakfast with the 
 old Scotch Nannie, who, when she accepts the tiny 
 package of tea from Babbie, says : "Babbie, did 
 ye come by it honest, child?" 
 
 [74] 
 
afitoao muf) tfte 15op0 
 
 As I walked along* Princess street, dear Daddy, 
 I felt a delicious sensation of possession, and I 
 could remember my grandmother's pride as she 
 would say : "Yes, child ; your grandfather's name 
 was Paul Douglas, and it's proud I am to be related 
 to Ellen Douglas, the Lady of the Lake and the 
 mother of the Black Douglas." Then always a 
 nice story would come after that, and the treasure 
 box opened with its rare collection of miniatures 
 or whiskered old gentlemen and short-waisted 
 ladies cut out in black paper and pasted on a white 
 background. I tried to tell George S. and Grandpa 
 about them, but they wouldn't listen. They were 
 making other plans. There is always so much 
 time taken up making plans, and getting rid of 
 money that won't be good in the next country. In 
 Germany, France and Holland the conversation 
 was really most tedious. English money, how- 
 ever, is good in more places. 
 
 We went through the Edinburgh Castle. It is 
 magnificent and aw-inspiring, perched up hundreds 
 of feet above the valley below. It is not alone for 
 its rugged grandeur that it is so interesting, but 
 for its historic fame. It dates back to the time 
 when the nobles ruled the land, and it gives you a 
 sort of sword-in-hand sensation to go through 
 places where the walls fairly ring with valor and 
 where so many soldiers have lived and died. And 
 lots and lots of soldiers live there now in the new 
 barracks. It is the most imposing spectacle to see 
 the Black Watch drill on the castle esplanade, and 
 they look so picturesque in their bonnets and clean 
 
 [75] 
 
mtmn mm tu i5op0 
 
 white spats and kilts that shake as they walk. The 
 same esplanade that is 350 feet in length served at 
 one time as a place of public execution. Isn't that 
 an awful thought? And as we walked over that 
 historic ground I felt so glad to be alive now. 
 There was a dear little black kitten looking out of 
 one of the port-hole effects in the castle near the 
 big gate. It was crying so pitifully that I asked a 
 kilted youth who was passing by if he didn't think 
 the poor thing was a prisoner in that black hole. 
 He only said: "Let it get out as it got in." A 
 half hour later v/hen I passed the same place again 
 the kitten still was crying, and, after all, perhaps, 
 the soldier was right and the kitten a fool. Why 
 didn't it back out, anyhow? 
 
 We went up the archway to the King's Bastion, 
 and saw that wonderful and famous gun, Mons 
 Meg, which is an enormous thing. I patted it in 
 spite of its twenty-inch bore. It is now, as I 
 learned to say in Germany, "caput." Very near, 
 this old gun is a little chapel, the oldest and small- 
 est sacred edifice in Scotland. This little chapel 
 belonged to Margaret, the Saxon Queen of Mal- 
 colm Canmore. She died in 1093, and I am sure 
 she had nothing to do with the modern little stove 
 in the chapel at present that cheers and warms the 
 woman who sells photographs of the place. We 
 saw, but I must acknowledge, in a very poor light, 
 the old Parliament Hall that has been restored to 
 its proper dignity from a whitewashed hospital 
 ward to the noblest historic apartment of the Stu- 
 art palace. A Scotchman told me it was the 
 
 [76] 
 
afiroaa mitb tSe T30P& 
 
 noblest, so that is how I know. Otherwise I never 
 would have known, the light was so poor. We 
 saw the place where the dead Queen Margaret with 
 her children made their exit while their uncle, Don- 
 al Bane, "thundered at the gate." Think of a 
 thing like that, how awful it must have been at the 
 time. I am so glad that the habit of thundering at 
 gates is entirely out of date. There may be some 
 modern inventions like a graphophone or a tele- 
 phone, or some one else's daughter taking singing 
 lessons. All these sounds may be harrowing at 
 times, but nothing compared to thundering at gates. 
 Dear me. Daddy, how could I go on telling you 
 such things without mentioning the first and fore- 
 most and most important — the Regalia of Scotland. 
 I saw it. And, as the little book mentioned, "Vul- 
 gar curiosity pales before the patriotic pride with 
 which a nation views these relics of a glorious 
 past." We went up a little curved stairway, and 
 in a glass case we beheld Scotland's Pride. There 
 is the crown, the sceptre and the sword of state, 
 also there is a silver rod that was used as the badge 
 of the Lord Treasurer of Scotland. Perhaps you 
 know all this, but maybe the girls do not, and these 
 treasures are so interesting I must tell you all 
 about them. The crown, of course, is pure gold, 
 and it is made of two circles, with designs of fleur 
 de lis around It and large pearls. Then there are 
 other precious stones in It, not polished, but set 
 deep in the old-fashioned way. There were ame- 
 thysts, emeralds, rubies and jacinths and lots of 
 Oriental pearls, also diamonds and sapphires. 
 
 [771 
 
96roa& Witti tfie 15op0 
 
 There is a crimson velvet affair with ermine in it to 
 be worn inside. I suppose it would hurt the head 
 if it were not for that, as it looks like a very 
 weighty thing to be worn on the head. But think 
 of the weight of armor. People then evidently 
 didn't mind uncomfortable things. The glory of 
 wearing a crown compensated. The man who 
 guards the Regalia told us that : "The crown spar- 
 kled on the brows of Bruce, likewise the Jameses 
 and Mary's auburn hair." The crown dates back 
 to 13 14, after Robert Bruce's famous victory of 
 Bannockburn. There was an earlier crown in 
 Scotland in 1057, when Malcolm Canmore ruled 
 the land. The crown I saw to-day was wonderful 
 and beautiful enough, and I hope I shall never for- 
 get it. We also saw an old-fashioned picture rep- 
 resenting the Rev. Mr. James Granger and his wife 
 hiding the treasures in the floor of the old church 
 in 1652, and once more referring to the little book 
 I learned that Scotland would have lost forever the 
 regalia had it not been for the clever wife of the 
 reverend gentleman who lived and died three hun- 
 dred years ago. We also saw the wonderful old 
 chest in which the treasures had been hidden, all 
 neatly wrapped in linen and found again on the 
 4th of February, 1818, by some others and Sir 
 Walter Scott. 
 
 We left the castle and once more entered our 
 open barouche, and driving through this beautiful 
 city we looked upon modern things for awhile, and 
 one was death. That is something that is always 
 with us. Ancient and modern, it's 2l style that 
 
 [78] 
 
96roaQ mUb tfte TBcp^ 
 
 never goes, and we will have to face it, too, the 
 same as the others that have gone before. Some 
 have worn crowns and some have worn rags, but 
 they all have had to go. What I saw to-day was 
 a box with a flag over it, and four kilted soldiers 
 carried it on their shoulders, and others, still with 
 the power in their legs to move, walked behind. 
 Oh, the glory of that power to live — that power 
 that not only moves our legs and arms but our 
 minds, our appetites, our all — Our tout ensemble, 
 as it were. God help us. 
 
 We left more alive things outside and stepped 
 back into history again. This time it was Holy- 
 rood Palace. I was almost afraid to speak out 
 loud here, it seemed so dreadful to look at a spot 
 on the floor with a brass plate on it and to be told 
 by some one who remembered that before that 
 brass plate was put there there was a dark stain 
 on that very spot, and that dark stain was blood, 
 and the blood was the life blood of an unfortunate 
 Italian musician who died by Lord Darnley's hand, 
 without even a moment to say his prayers. Lord 
 Darnley was husband to Mary, Queen of Scots, 
 and the Queen was in her room at the time, and 
 probably saw it all happen. We also saw the four- 
 post bed, with its original hangings, in which Mary, 
 the Queen slept. She must have been a very short 
 little lady, because her bed seemed almost nursery 
 size. We also saw the little supper room, with 
 the threadbare, moth-eaten tapestries still on the 
 wall. It's wonderful how such thingrs last while 
 
 [79] 
 
atiroati mitb tU IBogg 
 
 their owners pass on taking' their souls to God for 
 reckoning*. 
 
 The rest of the drive was through the country, 
 and do you know, something that I have observed, 
 that in the different countries certain animals seem 
 to predominate. Now, for instance, here in Bonnie 
 Scotland, it seems to be sheep that I see every 
 place that are grazing in the fields. Probably the 
 Mary that we all know about who had a little Iamb 
 was a Scotch lassie. But in Holland and in Ger- 
 many, too, it seemed to be goats that predominated 
 mostly as the train hurried past. 
 
 [80] 
 
DUNFERMLINE. 
 
 Daddy, dear, thrill with me. I have seen and 
 heard so much I scarcely know where to start. I 
 really am at this very minute in the gentlemen's 
 reading room in the Station Hotel in Belfast, Ire- 
 land, and the boys are out looking at linens again. 
 I will tell you what I know about linens later, but 
 just now^ let me take you and the girls firmly but 
 gently by the hand and into the first-class railway 
 carriage with us on our way to Dunfermline. Over 
 here you can travel first or third class, according 
 to how much you pay for your ticket. We usually 
 travel third, because they say only nobility and 
 Americans take the first-class coaches, and the dif- 
 ference, except in the price of the ticket, is hard 
 to detect. Walter asked the train-man what the 
 difference might mean in the first and second class. 
 He kept the man talking a long silly while about it, 
 telling how there were so many more buttons in 
 the upholstery of the first-class coaches, and George 
 S. declared it was the color of the plush. The 
 prosy old conductor was not at all impressed with 
 their wit. He briefly told us it was the rug for 
 our feet. So we proceeded to enjoy the rug, and 
 all laughed merrily and enjoyed better things than 
 the rug. And that was the lovely things that we 
 saw. 
 
 We crossed the Forth Bridge, and I can well 
 
 [8i] 
 
96roaa muh tU 13op^ 
 
 believe what I was told about it that it was the 
 labor of 5,000 men for seven years day and night, 
 and that it cost over £3,500,000 to build it. The 
 bridge is a mile and a half long and that includes 
 both ends on land, you know, and the steel in it 
 weighs 51,000 tons. I also heard that, even though 
 it was so wonderful and lengthy an operation to 
 construct such a thing, very few men lost their 
 lives while working there. 
 
 I was just a little frightened when Walter told 
 me we were to visit his friends, Sir James, and 
 Lady Moore, and I did wish I had had a little more 
 luggage with me. I had become so accustomed to 
 my travelling clothes that I quite know how a nut 
 feels about its shell, except, of course, I had the 
 privilege not known to nuts, of crawling out now 
 and then, and, like my precious dog at home, who 
 winter and summer must retain his hide, I pro- 
 ceeded once more to be as contented and uncon- 
 scious of my coverings as if they had been a coat 
 of paint. Anyhow, I have noticed if you put your 
 mind on it, any woman can feel mighty dressy with 
 a pair of ear-rings and new silk stockings. The 
 boys, of course, went to the linen factories at once. 
 Dunfermline is so famous for its linens, you know, 
 and I proceeded to live the most beautiful part of 
 the whole trip. Lady Moore is the personifica- 
 tion of charm and womanliness, and I loved her 
 from the first moment I saw her. The boys have 
 been delightful companions on this trip, and, of 
 course, you know when I chose Walter, how I felt 
 about him, and it's more so now. But what real 
 
 [82] 
 
afiroan mub tfte TSops 
 
 woman after weeks and weeks without it doesn't 
 crave the companionship of a thimble and a petti- 
 coat? 
 
 There is a something delicious in the sound that 
 grown ups and children all know, and I pity any- 
 one who has never heard and loved it — that is 
 the little soft, swishy sound of the mother person 
 as her train trundles along and follows her through 
 the door. It was such a gown that Lady Moore 
 wore. Some people live in houses, others live in 
 homes. There are some doors where you hesitate 
 and feel the chill, the dark, unused, unhomelike 
 sensation even before you enter. Then again, there 
 are real true homes that are all the word implies. 
 You feel the breath and warmth of love as the 
 door opens. It's such a place where children home 
 from school call "mother," and the memory of that 
 loved word vibrating through the halls for many 
 years mellows and makes a mere house a home. 
 It was a real home we were visiting to-day. 
 
 It seems as if the whole world was full of sun- 
 shine and singing birds this morning when I awoke. 
 Lady Moore kindly volunteered to show me Dun- 
 fermline. The automobile was left at the entrance 
 to the park that we might walk and more leisurely 
 enjoy so beautiful a place. I felt like living in 2l 
 dream. The sunshine had gone to my head. We 
 walked past the club house for the exclusive pleas- 
 ure of the very elderly Scotchmen, who, having 
 arrived at the age where pottering about in a 
 garden with nothing to think of but an occasional 
 game of chess, and numerous pipes of tobacco, or 
 
 [83] 
 
96toat! mitb tbt 15op0 
 
 just to bask in the sunshine to watch the birds and 
 flowers, and to live again the careless free life of 
 boyhood without the activity was the sum of their 
 day's work. This club house is maintained, like 
 many other places in Dunfermline, through the 
 bounty of Mr. Carnegie, and, as if imitation really 
 was the sincerest form of flattery, the entire com- 
 munity of elderly Scotchmen have affected the 
 same style of beard as their benefactor. 
 
 We walked up the rugged path and around and 
 through the ruins of the castle and saw the rooms 
 where the monks of old had lived and slept and 
 prayed. We stood in an open place that had once 
 been the kitchcen of the monastery, and with a 
 big sniff I could almost imagine the savory odors 
 that had risen from that very spot. The well- 
 cooked meats, the flagons of wines, the birds served 
 with their feathers around them, like we see in 
 feast-day pictures of days gone by. I imagine the 
 monks had plenty to eat, because they are all so 
 beautifully rounded in their pictures. The fresh 
 air had made me overly hungry anyhow, and it was 
 a safer topic of conversation and a more pleasant 
 thought to look out of the hole that once had been 
 a window, and see the hills all gloriously brown 
 and green for November, and little streams trick- 
 ling down through the rocks and mossy nooks and 
 the tall wild ferns grown brown for winter. As 
 we looked down the steep steps of logs and moss 
 and listened to the birds singing and inhaled the 
 fragrance of the woods, I tried to imagine I could 
 see the pious old gentlemen with their shining 
 
 I84] 
 
96roaD mUb t&e T5og0 
 
 crowns and sandaled feet, trudging up the steep 
 steps chanting their evening prayer. Dunfermline 
 is full of treasures, and first I must tell you of the 
 Abbey, that was started building in 1050 by Queen 
 Margaret. It is an exquisite example of Norman 
 architecture, and I had plenty of leisure to thor- 
 oughly enjoy it. It is so nice to have those dear 
 boys off my mind for awhile, and Lady Moore has 
 a delightful way of enjoying things quietly. 
 
 Really the way I have had to hurry sometimes 
 was enough to make me fairly dizzy. Under a 
 beautiful carved pulpit in the Abbey Church is the 
 tomb of Robert the Bruce. I stood so near that I 
 put the toe of my shoe on the bronze plate under 
 which rests forever whatever may remain of Rob- 
 ert. He wasn't very pretty in his picture, but I 
 don't think it was a good likeness. 
 
 We also went through the Turkish bath building, 
 another gift of Mr. Carnegie's. It is a most com- 
 plete, artistic and luxurious building, and the fee 
 for a bath is only a shilling. I felt like the girl 
 in the threadbare story who had the opportunity to 
 stay in a New York hotel with a private bath-room 
 and wished so much it had been Saturday night. 
 Pardon that allusion, and come back to this Scot- 
 tish bath-house, with its splendid swimming-pool 
 and gymnasium room, where a sweet young thing 
 is playing a game of battledore and shuttlecock 
 over a tennnis net with a red-jacketed attendant. 
 The young girl's costume was so simple and grace- 
 ful, merely a little blue serge slip, like our little 
 girls about ten years old at home might wear. A 
 
 [85] 
 
96toaa muti tfie IBop.'^ 
 
 black girdle was tied loosely around her waist. We 
 also saw Skibo Castle from a distance, and rode 
 in the automobile near the under side of the Forth 
 Bridge. It is more wonderful to look up at than 
 to go quickly over in the train. 
 
 After looking at all the gifts to his home town, 
 we visited the little cottage where Mr. Carnegie 
 was born. The second story room had two beds 
 built in the wall and besides a little fireplace and 
 a small table to hold the log-book there is nothing 
 else there except, of course, the elderly person who 
 shows with such pride the beautiful tribute to his 
 mother that Mr. Carnegie has so recently written 
 in the book. I wrote my name not far under it, 
 I was so delighted with his sentiment : *'It is a 
 pleasure to visit the home of one's childhood when 
 one had a heroine for a mother." 
 
 On our way home we stopped to pay a call on 
 a most lovely lady who lived in a most picturesque 
 home in a delightful old-fashioned garden, with a 
 rugged natural hedge, and lovely real, live tame 
 peacocks that came up to the automobile to give a 
 friendly greeting. I would love to own a peacock, 
 but dear knows what a poor companion I would 
 find it when I didn't want it around. 
 
 [86] 
 
BELFAST. 
 
 I have been motoring- around Ireland with the 
 boys, seeing the linen in all its stages, and also 
 seeing this picturesque country. It is not an un- 
 familiar sight to see women barefooted, not like 
 the dancers on the stage in Vienna and Paris and 
 in all other civilized countries that look for shocks, 
 but just plain poor barefooted women with their 
 heads tied up in shawls. I was surprised at the 
 boys that they could not give me a good reason for 
 finding any more beauty in a naked ankle that 
 danced for money than in a naked ankle that 
 trudges through the mire because it can't afford a 
 stocking. Why should a rosy apple that you pay, 
 what Walter calls "dreadful money" for in a New 
 York shop, taste any better than the same rosy 
 thing under a tree in Ireland? The girl we saw in 
 the road to-day was young and pretty, I think, and 
 the head shawl was becoming to the back of her 
 head. She was afraid of the automobile, but she 
 didn't run like the cows and pigs. She simply 
 turned her back and shivered. I talked for ever so 
 long about this. Was it modesty or embarrass- 
 ment? Is it lack of funds or is it lack of public 
 schools that makes women seemingly so shiftless? 
 
 Not all the Irish women defy draughts like the 
 little one in the road. The fine healthy specimens 
 we saw in a vaudeville performance one evening 
 
 [87] 
 
astoaa muh tht isoys 
 
 at the Hippodrome wore quite heavy cotton dull 
 black affairs, and in the chorus with them was a 
 sweet-faced little crippled girl, with a beautiful 
 voice. She was dressed in a short white frock 
 with a blue sash, like the others. Her poor crip- 
 pled legs were pathetic. Think of a deformed girl 
 in New York making her living on the vaudeville 
 stage. No matter how sweet her voice and face 
 might be, how many of us would have the charity 
 to overlook those wretched poor little limbs? 
 Grandpa said she looked as if she were bent on 
 having a good time, wicked person that he is. We 
 are all looking forward for the trip home, and 
 maybe I won't be delighted to see you and the 
 girls. Be sure to be on the nearest point of land 
 when we arrive and watch us go through the ago- 
 nies of the hospitalities of the American Custom 
 House. 
 
 Wave an American flag and just shout ^'Walter" 
 as loud as you can, so we will know the right 
 bunch of faces to look to for the familiar ones. 
 This land of second-story street cars may have its 
 charm and I don't doubt it, but Uncle Sam for me 
 every time, and there is not one of us who won't be 
 glad to see the Goddess of Liberty in her green 
 gown waiting for us to sail into her beautiful 
 harbor. 
 
 [88] 
 
TWO DAYS FROM HOME. 
 
 Dear Daddy, I write that "Home" with a capi- 
 tal H. We are having glorious weather, and, while 
 the sea has been a little rough at times, it hasn't 
 been rough enough to empty the majority of the 
 deck chairs. There are some very interesting peo- 
 ple on board, and some wonderful new costumes 
 are being worn that they may land in our beautiful 
 country as used property, I suppose. There is some- 
 thing about this draughty life at sea that makes 
 one awfully glad she can afford silk stockings. I 
 hope you are all watching the newspapers for the 
 ship to come in, and I suppose by wireless you al- 
 ready know some of what I am about to tell you. 
 To begin at the beginning, when we looked at the 
 sketch of the arrangement of tables in the dining 
 room and found our names at one of the side tables 
 with two other names, an indignation meeting went 
 on at once. Three mad men went to the head stew- 
 ard and demanded an explanation. It was easy. 
 A young lady with a pocketbook (we guessed that 
 much), had asked that herself and friend should be 
 put with our party. Simply speaking, it meant that 
 we were to spend all our meal hours in the com- 
 panionship of Marianna Murphy and her little 
 French beau. I'm glad for her sake she wasn't 
 married when you hear what happened later on, 
 and I'm sort of sorry for the poor girl anyhow. 
 
 [89] 
 
afitoaa mitb tu TBops 
 
 She didn't know we didn't want her little friend 
 along, and she didn't happen to know either that 
 both George S. and Walter had seen him before. 
 He had given them very nice French shaves on prev- 
 ious trips to France, and little Marceau, had he been 
 consulted, would not have cared to be placed where 
 Marianna considered so sociable a spot. There was 
 not any other place in the dining room, so we had 
 to make the best of it, and after the first display of 
 gorgeous dinner gown Marianna retired to the 
 tender care of the stewardess. The next morning 
 at breakfast Marceau likewise was missing. Grand- 
 pa thinks he is one of the people the warning signs 
 refer to, because he spends nearly all of his time in 
 the smoking room playing cards, and he evidently 
 watches from a balcony the most suitable times for 
 his meals because after the first offense and glance 
 of recognition, although no words were said, he 
 has never looked at either Walter or George S. 
 again. I suppose a barber does get a lasting im- 
 pression of a face. He has to look at it so care- 
 fully to prevent an accident. 
 
 We were all sitting in the veranda cafe after 
 dinner yesterday, and I was playing about the one- 
 thousandth game of solitaire with Grandpa. George 
 S. and Walter were talking of the tendencies of 
 unreliable salesmen selling samples, and the con- 
 versation was so much like Potash and Perlmutter 
 that I wanted to listen. Just them a steward came 
 up with a tray with a card on it, saying the cap- 
 tain would like to speak to them both. Without 
 even telling us what it was §ibout, they hurried 
 
 [90]! 
 
96toaD mUb tfte 15op0 
 
 away, and, of course, Grandpa and I thought 
 George S. at last was to have his chance to run 
 the ship. But far be that from the case. Two 
 whole wondering hours went by before they re- 
 turned, and Grandpa was taken away to be whisp- 
 pered to, and so was I. 
 
 Walter told me, the captain said, shortly after 
 leaving Liverpool a wireless had been received, with 
 the message that a hotel in Paris, the police also 
 and several jewelers were looking for a man sup- 
 posed to be on our steamer. He was described as 
 being slight, dark complexioned, with a small mous- 
 tache, and was a first-class barber in the Hotel G. 
 The name was Alloway and considerable moneys 
 had disappeared simultaneously with the person de- 
 scribed, and no one so far on the ship had recog- 
 nized him. The Captain asked the advice of the 
 American gentlemen and inquired if they had in 
 the smoking room or elsewhere seen any one act- 
 ing in any way suspicious or seemingly travelling 
 under an assumed name and disguise. Reluctantly, 
 they acknowledged having known Alloway, alias 
 Marceau, when he wore a scrap of a moustache and 
 shaved them in Paris the season previously, and I 
 am glad to say they did not tell that his betrothed 
 was on the ship. 
 
 Her picture will get in the papers soon enough, 
 dear knows, and she has so much to learn. 
 
 Marceau has disappeared from the smoking 
 room. His meals are being served to him pri- 
 vately, and we have not seen or heard anything 
 more about him. This evening at supper Marianna 
 
 [91] 
 
asroaa mith tu tbops 
 
 appeared very pale but gorgeous in a lavender satin. 
 She was really quite the most elaborate creature on 
 the ship, for while the English girls on board wore 
 evening clothes they are quite simple and unas- 
 suming. 
 
 The three Japanese ladies, who are making their 
 first trip with their husbands, wear their tailored 
 suits all the time. Marianna felt quite like herself 
 again, and had spent the entire afternoon in her 
 steamer chair in the hope that ''Marceau" would 
 come and join her for a happy little while, and she 
 could not account for not receiving a little note 
 from him for the past two days. She wanted to 
 know, if I knew if he was suffering from ''mal de 
 mer," and if we didn't think him charming, etc. I 
 had so little to tell her that I just enthused about 
 the enormous three-stone engagement ring and lis- 
 tened to the wonderful secret of his wedding gift 
 to her that he was to bring so carefully through the 
 Custom House. She was quite sure I wouldn't tell, 
 and I didn't. She told me of her gorgeous wedding 
 gown and how papa had promised to start them at 
 housekeeping. She was so sure her lover was so 
 clever he would succeed in any business he might 
 enter, and I soon discovered she knew nothing what- 
 soever about his former occupation. 
 
 The boys made some excuse about it being too 
 cold for me on deck, where they were going to 
 smoke awhile for a change, and there was nothing 
 for me to do but sit with Marianna and listen to 
 the concert. However, I did advise her not to do 
 as she wanted to do, and that was inquire for ''Mar- 
 
 [92] 
 
abtoao mitf) tbt 15op0 
 
 ceau" at the desk and get the steward to take a note 
 to him. I tried to convince her that he would think 
 more of her if she just left him alone until it was 
 time to go on shore, when papa was to be there to 
 meet them. I can't help but wonder how it all wnll 
 turn out, and even while I wonder I forget her in 
 my joy to be once more w4th you and the girls and 
 home again. 
 
 [93] 
 
The Eternal Evangel — Solomon S. Hilscher $i .50 
 
 A New Philosophy of Life — J. C. Coggins i . 00 
 
 Romance of the Universe — B. T. Stauber i .50 
 
 In the Early Days — Adelaide Hickox i . 50 
 
 The New Theology — By a Methodist Layman — 
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 Miscellaneous 
 
 Anvil Sparks — Radical Rhymes and Caustic 
 
 Comments, by Wilby Heard , 75 
 
 The Medical Expert and Other Papers — Louis J. 
 
 Rosenberg 50 
 
 The Little Sufferers (dealing with the Abuses of 
 
 the Children's Societies) — G. Martin i . 50 
 
 Eureka, a Prose Poem — S. H. Newberry i . 00 
 
 Rust (a play in four acts) — ^Algernon Tassin (of 
 
 Columbia University) i . 00 
 
 Poems by Charles Guinness i . 00 
 
 Prohibition and Anti-Prohibition — Rommel, 
 
 Ziegler & Herz 1 . 00 
 
 Gay.Gods and Merry Mortals — Verse by Robert J. 
 
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 The Deluge of England, and Other Poems — James 
 
 Francis Thierry i .00 
 
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 nomic Work — ^T. M. Sample 1 .00 
 
 Achsah, the Sister of Jairus — Mabel Cronise 
 
 Jones 1 . 00 
 
 The Marriage Bargain Counter — Daisy Deane . . i . 50 
 Building a New Empire — Nathaniel M. Ayers. . 1.50 
 
 Marriage and Divorce — Jeanette Laurance i . 00 
 
 The Clothespin Brigade — Clara L. Smiley. 75 
 
 "Forget It"— Ida Von Claussen i .50 
 
 The Last Word: a Philosophical Essay — James 
 
 and Mary Baldwin i .00 
 
 Travel 
 
 Eight Lands in Eight Weeks (illustrated by 90 
 drawings) — Marcia P. Snyder 1 . 25 
 
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 (illustrated) i .25 
 
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