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 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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Class JJ 9^ 
 Book_JL:_^.. 
 
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 COFYRICHT DEPOSIT 
 
DIARY OF A TRIP ABROAD 
 
 IN THE 
 
 SUMMER OF 1910 
 
 BY 
 
 EARL TRUMBULL WILLIAMS 
 
 BROOKLYN • NEW YORK 
 1920 
 
« 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY 
 JAMES HARVEY WILLIAMS 
 
 g)CLA601249 
 

 
 For a few of EarVs intimate friends, 
 
 to whom 
 
 his memory will ever be a cherished possession. 
 
 This Booky 
 
 the production of his handiwork, 
 
 is published by his Mother, 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PART ONE 
 
 S.S. Arabic* from New York to Queenstown; Glimpses 
 of Ireland; the River Clyde; the Scottish Trossachs, and 
 Edinburgh; Automobile Trip through England, Visit- 
 ing the English Lakes, Cathedrals, the Shakespeare Dis- 
 trict, and the University Towns of Cambridge and 
 Oxford ; a Week in London, and a Day at Ostend. . . 
 
 PART TWO 
 
 Holland; Experiences in Germany, with Special Refer- 
 ences to Rothenberg; Munich, and the Passion Play at 
 Oberammergau; Venice, the Italian Lakes, and Swiss 
 Summer Resorts of St. Moritz and Lucerne, including 
 also a Week's Trip of H. T. Curtiss and E. T. Williams 
 to Scutari and Dalmatia. . . . . .81 
 
 PART THREE 
 
 Walking-Trip in the Bernese Oberland, from Interlaken 
 to Zermatt and Chamonix; a Week in Paris; and final 
 Days in England, visiting Canterbury, London (again), 
 Chester, and Wrexham, before taking the R.M S. 
 Lwsitan ia for New York 159 
 
PARTY 
 
 S. Merrell Clement, Jr., 
 '*Benny''-''BigBen:' 
 
 Henry T. Curtiss, 
 
 "Lusitania"—' TaxicaK" 
 
 J. Curtis Piatt, 
 
 Reginald Roome, 
 
 "Ckb Man "—"Pete." 
 
 Earl T.Williams, 
 
 "Eddie Louise " — ''Perculator, ** 
 
PART ONE 
 
 THROUGH THE BRITISH ISLES 
 
 TO OSTEND 
 
 July 2 — August 1, 1910. 
 
On Board H. M. S. Arabic, 
 Wednesday, July 6, 1910. 
 1300 miles (I should say "knots") out. 
 HE author of all Plattitudes, responsi- 
 ble for the greater portion of our di- 
 vers bons mots, has fust made his ap- 
 pearance on deck in resplendent glory. 
 I can see plainly that any procrastina- 
 tion and gross negligence in leaving the chronicle of 
 this trip (beginning at 2 p.m. July 2) until to-day, has 
 cost both posterity and me dear; for the one can never 
 know, nor the other remember, a few of the most 
 delicious "titbits" that ever fell from the mouth of 
 our incomparable jester. 
 
 J. Curtis is unquestionably the "plush horse " of the 
 boat— -the Beau Brummel, as it were. This morning 
 he is attired in spotless white flannels, buckskin shoes 
 and socks to match, a silk shirt just showing itself be- 
 neath a neat soft, turned-down linen collar, held to- 
 gether by a Kaskel & Kaskel gold safety pin. His blue 
 coat and unmatchable plaid Dunne cap top off a de- 
 cidedly shipshape, spick-and-span appearance. I really 
 don't know why I devote so much space to the descrip- 
 tion of Curt's personal appearance, save that he 
 
• 10 • 
 occupies the prominent place in all of our merry gath- 
 erings largely because of his laughter-provoking "Plat- 
 titudes." Ever since Taxicab started the ball rolling 
 with, "It's a pretty damn poor tub, but we'll have a 
 hell of a good time," Curt has given it a timely push 
 with a brilliant quip that has afforded our good cheer 
 no chance for a relapse. We had been to sea but two 
 short hours when he ventured the suggestion that we 
 see if any more mail had come in. A little later it was, 
 "Let's send a note to Ford." Ford is on the Deutsch- 
 hndy some two days ahead of us by now. 
 
 It was nice of Sam K. and Elt (George Eliot, too) to 
 see us off. "We all appreciated Fit's waiting over a day 
 just for that, tho' it must have been a sad farewell for 
 him. There was comfort for us in numbers. Once 
 started, I busied myself writing letters to Harvey, 
 Brookes, "Hugs," and Elt until, when I came on deck, 
 we were passing the Ambrose Channel Lightship. We 
 sat in our chairs or strolled about the rest of that after- 
 noon, and before dinner adjourned to our staterooms 
 to get ready. 
 
 Here, of course, Benny couldn't resist getting in a 
 little raillery at the expense of Curt and myself for our 
 $17.50 economy. The forced-draught and other ad- 
 vantages of the good ship Lusitaniay which I lost no 
 opportunity of impressing on my roommates, were 
 woefully lacking on the Arahic, and we looked for- 
 
• 11 • 
 
 ward to the stufify night with feelings of apprehension. 
 Our seats at table, tho' slightly removed from the 
 two-shilling orchestra which we arranged to hire for 
 Piatt's dance, were still far from bad. We were given 
 the end of a side table at which we arranged ourselves 
 indiscriminately, with the exception that Pete, "the 
 cook," invariably ensconced himself at the end. The 
 seat next us on one side was occupied by a harmless- 
 looking individual with a moustache, whom Curt 
 occasionally engaged in conversation, and whose prin- 
 cipal occupation was to laugh at the chatter of the 
 "Big Six." Curt, in his researches on the name commit- 
 tee (he invariably found the wrong names for the girls 
 he made it his business to look up), made the discov- 
 ery that Mr. X was the chauffeur of a touring-party 
 through Europe. The other members of our table who 
 sat in immediate proximity were a nice-looking gray- 
 haired lady with her little son, and a rather plain-look- 
 ing and plainly dressed young woman of twenty-five, 
 or thereabouts — distinctly uninteresting. Neither of 
 these people figured to the slightest degree in our life 
 at the table, where wit and sparkling repartee ragedram- 
 pant. That our presence has been distinctly felt, how- 
 ever, was proved by a remark Harry heard to the effect 
 that we were "rather amusing, tho' annoying." Candor 
 compels me to write that, save in our stateroom, which 
 Harry seemed to consider a dungeon with sealed walls, 
 
• 12 • 
 
 and in which he failed to exercise his customary re- 
 straint of tongue, our actions and intentions have been 
 above reproach. I say intentions, for often our utter- 
 ances have been real faux pas, hons mots — call them 
 what you will. Not a few have been at the expense of 
 the sweet middle-aged lady with gray hair. The seat 
 next hers, being the third from the end, and its oc- 
 cupant often apt to miss the tenor of our conversation, 
 fell to me upon coming in a trifle late one day. I passed 
 by the empty chair next to the father of the party, 
 in order to take it, remarking as I sat down: "No hard- 
 feeling, Benny, but Harry's had the rotten seat twice 
 in succession now, so I thought I'd give him a 
 change." 
 
 Even better was George's at breakfast this morning, 
 while discussing Harry, who yesterday was pretty tired 
 and without much speed: "It may be his malaria," he 
 said, "but he certainly hasn't shown any speed at all. 
 Why, he has about as much life as some of these old 
 gray-haired women you see around here." 
 
 Still speaking of the first day out: We opened that 
 night the first of our two boxes of cigars sent us: one, 
 by Mr. Piatt; the other, "Hoyo de Montereys," by 
 " Hugsy " Hewes, God bless him ! Would that I were an 
 artist and could draw a picture of Room 63 as it looked 
 about 11 P.M. Curt slept in the "upper" — rather, 
 tried to sleep, for a large blind porthole reflected on 
 
• 13 • 
 his countenance like a moon a light from the passage- 
 way at the back. Benny, poor Benny, had no choice — 
 the lounge was the only bed long enough for his 
 kingly form; but, alas! it was so narrow he had no 
 place to put his arms. He had the additional dis- 
 comfort of exposing himself unabashed to the gaze 
 of our neighbors — the females across the hall — for 
 it was a matter of the utmost necessity to leave the 
 door wide open that we might not wholly suffocate. 
 Strange that one hundred miles from land we should 
 still find it unbearably hot. Strange, too, that I, in the 
 lower berth, which was my lot on the mere toss of a 
 coin, slept peacefully through the additional discom- 
 fort of the holystoning of the deck in the small 
 hours of the morn, an incident that deprived my breth- 
 ren of several hours* good sleep. Poetical justice, how- 
 ever, has been rendered the last two nights on which I 
 have not fared so well. 
 
 But how futilely am I rambling. Sunday, the third, 
 was a quiet day — sea smooth and alternate fog and 
 glimpses of the sun. We think we did much to in- 
 gratiate ourselves with the ship's company by attend- 
 ing church. Did I say "we"? I mean all but H. T. C, 
 who stayed on deck like a heathen and missed the 
 pleasure of racing through the Episcopal service with 
 us. Harry found the lure of "Simon the Jester," 
 Locke's latest, too much for him. Indeed, I found it 
 very interesting myself for the rest of the day. 
 
• 14 • 
 
 Monday, the Fourth, and the day of the Jeffries- 
 Johnson battle 1 Will the "pride of the white race " win 
 back the title? Curtiss thinks not. That is, he'll bet on 
 Johnson if it's a square fight, but he's d — d if he'll 
 bet on a lay-down. This is unquestionably the topic of 
 the hour. One deluded youth, however, sought to 
 show respect for the day by wearing a bunch of fire- 
 crackers tied to his buttonhole. Only one event super- 
 seded the prize fight in our 'interest on the Fourth, 
 and that was the coming of Simon. Having three 
 Simons in our ranks, the title of Jester was not in- 
 appropriate for the little doll Sinbad that has been the 
 soul and inspiration of the party since his advent, and 
 is to be our mascot henceforth. He takes his meals 
 with us regularly, and when we cannot laugh at Platty, 
 we laugh at him, as father Benny makes him salute the 
 Captain. 
 
 Oh, yes, I forgot — there was a dance that evening 
 afiier Dr. Cadman had given us a speech on the "Glori- 
 ous Fourth." I danced with both Mrs. Howard VanSin- 
 deren and Miss Brinsmade — could not quite go Curt's 
 friend, Miss Purdy. The sensation of the evening was 
 Benny's meeting the young widow, the prettiest and 
 most attractive girl on the boat. So unexpected! He 
 paraded her down the deck in triumph past us, and 
 rumor has it that Harry the Taxicab gave vent to a " My 
 God! "under his breath. I confess to a few feelings of 
 blended jealousy and admiration myself 
 
• 15 • 
 I thought there was something I had overlooked. 
 Of course, we had a party, the wine being negotiated 
 by Curtiss. It took us all of lunch to reduce his pro- 
 posed six quarts to three, and it was the latter amount 
 we "crashed" in our first game that evening. Curt 
 seemed to get the most direct benefit, as evidenced best 
 perhaps by his subsequent introduction of the Van 
 Sinderens to Miss Purdy. Poor Curt was again the cy- 
 nosure of our eyes, and around him our inevitable 
 laughter sounded. "It's the first Fourth of July I've 
 ever been on the water — now let me alone! " And we 
 did — when he joined Miss Purdy. We had arranged 
 to be exclusive, to have our dinner a little after the 
 regular hour. The head steward, however, couldn't 
 quite get the idea thro' his head. "You'll fall in with 
 my plans," he said rather ominously, to Curt. We dined 
 at seven- 
 While Benny was "twosing" with the Queen (Miss 
 Eleanor Woodward, of Leroy, near Buffalo — we had 
 made a poor guess), the rest of us sat rather late into 
 the night in the hideous smoking-room listening to 
 the conversation of "Ferddie" (Harry calls him 
 "Ferddie" behind his back) Gottschalk, of The New 
 Theatre Company. He reminisced interestingly (with- 
 out neglecting, however, to throw in several egotistical 
 details) of Clyde Fitch and Maude Adams. My eyes 
 closed and my mind wandered when he finally got 
 
• 16 • 
 
 on the subject of instruction for young playwrights, 
 with special reference to George A. Richardson; and 
 about 1 A.M. we got to bed. Pretty late for shipboard, 
 but an interesting evening, nevertheless. 
 
 Let's see — now we're up to yesterday. You may be 
 sure I won't let this record go by unwritten so many 
 days again. Yesterday was a rotten day though and 
 quickly passed by. Not a trace of the sun, sea getting 
 rough, with evil consequences to none, a nasty rain at 
 intervals. Spent most of the day finishing my second 
 book, Gilbert Parker's " Right of Way, " a splendid and 
 powerful story. "We're pretty well acquainted with the 
 ship now, and our good times, though unabated, are 
 still of the same general character. George, Pete, Curt, 
 and Harry "crashed" in $2.50 per on a hat pool, and 
 lost. Wise men, Benny and I. Simon is still with us at 
 the table and on deck, and we are beginning to hear a 
 little less of the "man who rooms with me" from Pete. 
 Harry and George have completely subjected their 
 companion. Tommy's "Hoyo de Montereys" have 
 now displaced Mr. Piatt's "Romeo" panetelas, and 
 there you are ! 6-1 were the odds against the fascinating 
 Miss Woodward in the evening, Mrs. Van's desire for 
 college glees from the eight Yale men being unrecipro- 
 cated by them. Seems to me there was a Plattitude, 
 too. Oh, yes! Curt asked Harry Van what year his 
 birthday comes in. 
 
17 
 
 On Board H. M. S. Arabic, 
 Saturday, July 9, 1910. 
 
 I HAVE that restless feeling that comes when the 
 ship is nearing port. There is an atmosphere of 
 hurry rather discomforting to one writing a diary. I 
 don't think I shall write as much as before. Neither is 
 there as much to tell. We learned Wednesday morn- 
 ing that Mr. Johnson (colored) punched Mr. Jeffries 
 out of the ring in the ninth round. The opinion held 
 by Harry and his father, "Jute," being vindicated, 
 Curtiss was elated in mind and pocket — the latter 
 richer some $5.00. On this day, too, I entered the 
 ranks of gamblers in earnest and took a chance with 
 Harry in a hat pool. Curt refused to team-up and was 
 left out, when a run of 3 6 5 announced the next morn- 
 ing, returned George and Pete, Harry and myself 
 winners. 
 
 The first of a series of evening poker games like- 
 wise started on Wednesday. The actions of pure nov- 
 ices like H. T. C, Curt, and myself, our first half-hour 
 would have afforded unbounded amusement to many, 
 but it is perhaps just as well we were alone. If Curt 
 took a fancy to a card, he held it whether it was a two, 
 
• 18 • 
 or not, and with the devil's own luck got away well to 
 the good. We were seasoned old salts the next night, 
 and things moved more rapidly. Curt acquired a cun- 
 ning way of secreting most of his chips about his per- 
 son and seemed to take a keen resentment at any re- 
 marks about possible winnings. "Well, you're even, 
 anyway," said Pete. "Even! even! with hell." By the 
 time we had two or three beers under our belts, as 
 Harry would have it. Curt just ripped out the bons 
 mots. With the clock pointing to ten minutes past ten 
 the topic under discussion was the hour for bed. "I say 
 we turn in at ten o'clock,'* says Piatt. 
 
 ^In these last few days the reading-habit has given 
 place to writing. When we haven't been getting off 
 our letters, we have been talking to Miss Woodward, 
 the Van Sinderen party, and Mr. Gottschalk. The last- 
 mentioned played for us yesterday afternoon and again 
 to-day. He improvises beautifully at the piano, and one 
 has but to suggest minuet, lullaby, waltz, and it is man- 
 ufactured at once and to your utmost satisfaction. He 
 could not quite go Pete's request for a "Spanish fan- 
 tastic," however. 
 
 Two interesting events in the day's happenings 
 yesterday were the Customs House attack against me 
 at lunch, and a game of "follow the leader" before 
 dinner, which resulted m my perspiring a bucketful. 
 A cold bath was distinctly refreshing. 
 
. 19 . 
 
 The sports for the ship's company, arranged by a 
 committee of Benny, Pete, Mr. Wilson, "the man who 
 rooms with Pete," and a few others carefully seleaed 
 from the passenger list, came off to-day, and were a 
 distinct success. Participating only in the "tug of war," 
 and seeing nothing else, I am unable to comment 
 further. 
 
 It only remains for me to chronicle a fimny incident 
 of last evening: After a short poker game (I was again 
 a loser), Harry, Pete, and I sauntered out to look over 
 the second dance. Up rushes Mr. Wilson: "Oh, I say, 
 don't any of you young fellows da(a)nce.^" "Why, 
 er — we're just about to," Harry spoke up. "I don't 
 dance," said Pete; as for Eddy, he kept a discreet si- 
 lence, scenting trouble. 
 
 "Would you mind if I introduced you to a friend 
 of mine?" followed up the Englishman. Pause — then 
 Harry, visibly squirming: "Why, it may sound rather 
 silly, but I can't dance anything but the Boston." 
 
 "What is the Boston?" 
 
 " Oh, it's a queer kind of a waltz we dance in Amer- 
 ica." 
 
 "That's all right," said Wilson, "she can dance any- 
 thing." There was no escape from a turn with the pas- 
 sec Miss O'Neil, but Harry fired a parting shot: 
 
 "How about bringing two or three of those other 
 fellows along?'* 
 
• 20 • 
 
 "No, one at a time will do"; and off Harry was 
 dragged. Pete and I doubled up in mirth as we strolled 
 up the deck. 
 
 Harry brought his dance to a speedy end, and with 
 him, Pete, Curt, and I engaged in another four-handed 
 poker game after Pete and I had skilfully eluded 
 "Purdy" on the other side of the deck. 
 
21 
 
 On Board S. S. Puma, Duke Line, 
 
 En route Dublin to Glasgow, 
 
 Wednesday, July 13. 
 
 STILL on the water. At the present moment, Benny, 
 George, and I are waiting for the officers to finish 
 their mess, having arisen too late for the regular break- 
 fast. Harry and Pete, of course, are not yet up. We had 
 a wonderfiilly smooth and pleasant passage across the 
 Channel from Dublin and are now anticipating an 
 enjoyable two hours up the Clyde from Greenock, 
 through the largest shipbuilding interests of the 
 world — but I must not begin there. 
 
 The narrative of our week on the good ship Arabic 
 was somewhat abruptly broken off by the bugle for 
 dinner. It was never finished, because, on the next day, 
 a slight attack of ptomaine-poisoning put the writer 
 completely out of business for the time being. I don't 
 know as there is much to say about the end of the 
 voyage, anyway. It was distinctly a pleasant trip; but 
 on looking back I feel that I could have made a 
 little better use of my time by writing and reading 
 more. Saturday night's poker game was rather disas- 
 trous for me and resulted in my leaving altogether 
 
• 22 • 
 about a pound on the ship in pools, etc., which I didn't 
 win. (Harry won the pool of $25.00 on the last day's 
 run.) I should like to have seen a little more of Miss 
 Woodward, but on the other hand, I am exceedingly 
 grateful for our acquaintance with Mr. Gottschalk. He 
 was a real treat to us all. The Van Sinderens, too, I 
 didn't see very much of, but regard that mainly as a 
 failure to do my duty. 
 
 Before leaving the Arabic, I should not fail to men- 
 tion one of the hesthons mots of the trip. Curt, as usual, 
 was the victim: "How do you like your book?" asked 
 Mrs. Van. "I think it is getting rougher," he answered. 
 
 The ride along the south coast of Ireland was per- 
 fect. Whether it seemed unusual because we were on 
 an ocean-liner, I do not know, but the Irish cliffs, back 
 of which lay long stretches of beautifully kept green 
 fields and pastures, were magnificent. As we neared 
 the harbor of Queenstown, many hundreds of white 
 sea gulls hovered about us. The harbor of Queens- 
 town, seen from the bow of the little tender which 
 we boarded about 4 P.M., was a treat in itself, with its 
 narrow entrance guarded by strong, naturally barri- 
 caded forts on high hills on either side. The customs 
 inspection was farcical compared with what we may 
 expect at the end of the summer on our return, and 
 once through, we had an odd half-hour to spare be- 
 fore our train left for Cork. While I, in my capacity as 
 
• 23 • 
 courier for the first week, watched the luggage, the 
 others saw a little of the town. Curtiss and Roome 
 were introduced to their first jaunting-car ride at a 
 cost of two bobs apiece — a ridiculous price; but expe- 
 rience is the teacher of us all, as some "highbrow" 
 once remarked. 
 
 Our first ride in an English compartment car proved 
 highly successful. Our appreciation of the beautifiil 
 country on either bank of the River Lee, and of the 
 old castles and ruins by the wayside was enhanced by 
 the remarks of an Irish gentleman, who, with his wife 
 and son, shared our carriage. A half-hour's ride and we 
 disembarked with our twelve pieces of luggage and 
 crowded into a little carriage for four that took us to 
 the Hotel Metropole. Being still on a diet, I could little 
 appreciate a first-class table d'hote dinner, though I 
 afterwards shared in the pleasures of an hour and a 
 half's crowded jaunt about the slums of Cork in a 
 jaunting-car. "Joey," our "jarvey," was a loquacious 
 old soul and pointed out all the places of interest, 
 which were not, however, very many. Almost all of 
 the inhabitants seemed to be of the lowest classes, and 
 their state of poverty was in many cases really pitifiil. 
 
 Of more interest was the nine-mile drive in the 
 country in two jaunting-carts to Blarney the next morn- 
 ing. Here we got a good idea both of the country and 
 of some of the large landed estates, whose limits, dense 
 
• 24 • 
 with luxuriant foliage and boarded by high stonewalls, 
 extended to the edge of the road on which we drove. 
 Blarney Castle, with its old towers, its winding stone 
 staircases and broken-in walls, was a most interesting 
 ruin. 
 
 "There is a stone there that whoever kisses, 
 Oh! he never misses to grow eloquent." 
 
 It took us some few minutes to find the stone in 
 question, but a merry Scotchman showed the way, and 
 the rest lost no time peeling coats and following suit, 
 each in turn giying it a resounding smack. Harry rec- 
 ognized an old acquaintance in a Mr. Mills, and his 
 wife, now living near Belfast, and they most hospi- 
 tably invited us to visit them at their country estate. As 
 they were in town for a few days, we were obliged to 
 decline. On our return to the hotel, we stopped to hear 
 the famous bells of Shandon, the sexton playing for 
 us"01d Folks At Home," "Nearer My God To Thee," 
 "Annie Laurie," and a few of Tom Moore's songs. 
 From the tower we obtained a fine bird's-eye view of 
 the city. 
 
 We did not think at the time that we could well 
 afford to go out of our way to see the Lakes of Killar- 
 ney, which would take us a day and a half, so proceeded 
 that afternoon by express to Dublin, where we put up 
 at the Royal Hibernian Hotel, to the proprietor of 
 which Mr. Mills had given us a special note of intro- 
 
• 25 • 
 duction. The 87th Royal Irish Fusiliers' Band concert 
 rather appealed to us as a form of evening entertain- 
 ment; nor were we disappointed, with such numbers 
 in the program as "Faust," "1812 Overture," one of 
 Liszt's "Hungarian Rhapsodies," Tosti's "Good-bye," 
 "Humoresque," etc. 
 
 Tuesday in Dublin for awhile bade fair to be a fail- 
 ure, from the standpoint of accomplishment, as we 
 were very slow in getting under way. The shops were 
 rather attractive, tho' Curt and George had already 
 made a little investigation into "Irish lace" the night 
 before. At eleven, however, we hired jaunting-cars, 
 and in three hours we saw a good deal of the city, the 
 "Phoenix Park," and went through the largest brewery 
 in the world — that of Guinness. Over ten thousand 
 barrels are turned out daily, and the trip through the 
 fifty-four-acre works was well worth while. In the 
 afternoon we "sight-saw" the college, St. Patrick's 
 Cathedral, and enough other places to make me want 
 to forget them speedily — which I have done. 
 
 Six o'clock saw us safely on board the old Duke 
 Line steamer Puma for Glasgow, and we bade farewell 
 to Ireland with a bully sail out of Dublin harbor. We 
 have made a mistake, I do not doubt, to miss Killarney 
 (we afterwards found that the Giant's Causeway in the 
 north would be far from worth our while) — but then 
 we have learned from experience, and as Benny rather 
 
• 26 • 
 
 tersely phrased it, talking last night on the deck, of 
 our few days in Ireland: "As a dismal failure, it was a 
 howling success/' It has indeed been interesting to see 
 the country, even if only a little of it, and then the peo- 
 ple: the men with their rich brogue, the women with 
 exquisite red coloring that I have never seen equaled 
 any place. I am looking forward even more to Scotland, 
 and to the Trossachs especially, which I visited twelve 
 years ago but can appreciate better now. The trip up 
 the Clyde this morning (I am writing now late in the 
 day), with its glimpse of the tremendous shipbuilding 
 works — the greatest shipbuilding centre of the world 
 — was only one more experience that one will not 
 soon forget. 
 
• 27 • 
 
 Queen Hotel, 'Arrogate, 
 
 Yorkshire, England, 
 
 Monday, July 18, 1910. 
 
 ROBERT has sent word that he must wait an hour 
 ^ while the *xtra inner tubes are being vulcanized, 
 so that gives me the opportunity to take up a very inter- 
 esting story; that is, of course, from my point of view. 
 "Robert" is our chauffeur — you would never have 
 guessed we were to have a chauffeur, would you? 
 Robert Young is his name. He is an Englishman, 
 most interesting to talk to, withal respectful, and an 
 excellent driver of our little six-cylinder 24-30 Napier. 
 In fact, he pleased his last patron so well that he was 
 engaged at once to drive a Packard in Pittsburgh next 
 winter. If you want to hear how we came by Robert 
 and the Napier, you must go back with me to Glasgow, 
 where I left off my narrative. 
 
 There isn't much to tell about Glasgow anyway. 
 We had lunch at the station hotel, with which, of 
 course, Harry had his "whis-keh"; then saw quickly 
 the old Protestant Cathedral, antiquity spelt all over 
 its interesting walls, and the University. At the latter, 
 I took some remarkable photographs of "college life" 
 
• 28 • 
 as interpreted by the other five members of the party. 
 
 At four o'clock we piled into a third-class compart- 
 ment and were pulled by a jerky little engine to a place 
 called Balloch, on the edge of Loch Lomond. Here 
 we boarded the neat, clean-cut little steamer that was 
 to take us down the lake to Inversnaid, and, overcome 
 by our exertions and the heat, we managed to slip away 
 from Benny to the saloon for a round of beer, Curtiss 
 foregoing the national drink, for once. 
 
 The sail down Loch Lomond was an exquisite 
 refreshment. The cool breeze revived our fading spirits, 
 and the scenery was a delight. A few old castles, with a 
 background of high hills and mountains, Ben Lomond, 
 (first cousin to Caesar) overtopping them all — then 
 the picturesque little stops we made. Just a little ham- 
 let of a cottage or two, neat gardens in front, and per- 
 haps a little country church, all ivy-grown — so peace- 
 ful and quiet it all was up there, and so far removed 
 from the turmoil of the city — even tho* so near! Such 
 was the village of Luss; and as we passed the estate 
 of the Duke of Montrose on the other side and zig- 
 zagged down the lake, it was no less beautiful. Tarbet 
 seemed most attractive to us — a fine large building, 
 almost resembling a castle in appearance, and beauti- 
 fill lawns with tennis courts to the side. "Just look at 
 them terracing and tennising," cried H. T. C. "Bah 
 Jove, that's jolly, isn't it?" (not really quite so bad as 
 
• 29 • 
 that, but Harry is rapidly aping the English). Then as 
 the steamer slowly left the pier "My God! "Now, when 
 Harry Curtiss cries "My God! " it is time to sit up and 
 take notice. "My God, it's a HOTEL!" 
 
 And so it was. There was nothing to do but take the 
 next boat back, in Harry's opinion — but discretion 
 flavored our judgment; and the hotel at Inversnaid, 
 while perhaps not quite so attractive, was more con- 
 venient, inasmuch as we found a coach to take us on 
 at seven the next morning, contrary to the assertions 
 of Mr. Cook's representative in Glasgow. 
 
 Inversnaid on Loch Lomond at six-thirty on a beau- 
 tiful summer day! What more natural than a swim? 
 No sooner said than done, and in less than five min- 
 utes we were safely out of sight around a point and 
 fast stripping to our bath(ing) suits. You see, in this 
 country, as Curt said, "it stays light till dark," and, of 
 course, at six-thirty the sun was a long way from the 
 horizon. But that swim! Four were in the water, and 
 I about to step in, when a shout of "the steamer, the 
 steamer ! "rent the air — and sure enough,not two hun- 
 dred yards away was our steamer returning from the 
 head of the lake. I quickly plunged in, just depositing 
 my camera on a projecting rock — but not Harry. No, 
 sir! He calmly picked up his towel, wrapped it about 
 him and sat on the beach — enjoying the situation fully 
 as much as the couple of hundred Cook's tourists on 
 
• 30 • 
 the boat. So did we all, in fact — then lay back to float 
 ovet the waves that rapidly made for the shore. A min- 
 ute later I looked up to see my camera being tossed 
 high and wet on the beach, and Curt Piatt, disregard- 
 ing all appearances of modesty, in a wild effort to 
 save his clothes from a like fate. 
 
 The rather tragic end of our swim whetted both our 
 appetites and spirits, and once more " the boys wined." 
 A launching-party on the lake, followed by some 
 "glees" by Messrs. Roome, Clement, and Richardson, 
 under the falls that Wordsworth has written a poem 
 about, brought the best day yet to an end. 
 
 Off early in the morning, promptly at seven, we 
 had a great ride over to Loch Katrine, another fine 
 sail on a steamer that Harry all but missed; then the 
 short drive thro' the wildly luxuriant Trossachs, to the 
 hotel. A bell boy tells me that the auto is at the door, 
 so I must stop. 
 
31 
 
 Station Hotel, 
 
 Lincoln, Lincolnshire, 
 
 Monday Evening, July 18. 
 
 IT is ten o'clock as I take up my pen to bring my 
 story at least as far along as Edinburgh, for I see 
 plainly that I must leave the automobile trip for 
 another day. I have just come in from what was to have 
 been an after-dinner stroll through the streets of Lin- 
 coln. We were, however, attracted into a court by a man 
 making a stump speech from a wagon. It did not take 
 long to find out that he was a Protective Conservative 
 trying to enlighten a largely Free Trade Liberal audi- 
 ence. For one hour and a half we stood rooted to the 
 ground entranced by one of the most interesting polit- 
 ical debates I have ever heard. As the speaker nicely 
 drew his comparisons with Germany, he was greeted 
 with hoots and roars of laughter; but, possessed of a 
 forced good nature and humor, he continued un- 
 daunted to his conclusion — a thoroughly just and 
 well-founded one, in my estimation. As the crowd 
 closed in when he called for questions at the end, I 
 pictured to myself" Hugsy " Hewes pushing his way to 
 the front, were he only here! The speaker left at nine- 
 
• 32 • 
 thirty, and the opposition had a chance. Its representa- 
 tive, a young chap with a touch of cockney, a hooked 
 nose, and a hat set back over his ears, bellowed forth 
 not convincing refutations when he was not holding 
 up his hand for silence and crying, "Just a moment!" 
 All over the square little groups were holding discus- 
 sions of their own. Excitement reigned universally, 
 and I could not help but think that England would 
 come out all right so long as her people thought the 
 thing out for themselves. I cannot imagine such a 
 scene in an American city, save in the very heat of a 
 campaign. 
 
 I have wandered from the track while it was fresh 
 in my mind and must now return to the Trossachs, the 
 home of Rob Roy Macgregor. Indeed, that beautiful 
 country which Scott has immortalized was doubly in- 
 teresting to me, now that I am at a more appreciative 
 age than I was on my first visit some eleven years ago. 
 We changed coaches at the hotel for Callander, and 
 as we rolled along the road by the side of Loch Ach- 
 ray, I enjoyed freshening my memory of the "Lady 
 of the Lake" in the little plaid edition that Pete had 
 handy (I bought one at Stirling). It seemed wonderful 
 to be following the path of James Fitz-James and 
 Roderick Dhu on their way to Coilantogle Ford, the 
 scene of their combat — but an even greater treat re- 
 mained for the latter part of the morning in Stirling 
 Castle. 
 
• 33 • 
 
 It took us three-quarters of an hour by train to 
 Stirling — a ride marked by a financial frenzy over a 
 private pool we had started on the ship, out of which 
 nothing had come, but which ceased to be a joke 
 after prolonged debate. I got considerably "het up'* 
 myself and was the "goat" in the grande finale, Stirling, 
 however, refreshed us with its storied walls, made 
 doubly interesting by the explanations of a fine old 
 guide. It is the grandest and most formidable castle I 
 have ever seen, and yet many of its structures date back 
 eight or nine centuries. From one point we looked out 
 on the scene of seven great battles. 
 
 Our sight-seeing for the day over, we made a very 
 poor lunch at the station hotel in the town. I have 
 a natural dread of station hotels anyway, and even 
 the one I am now in bears me out in my prejudice. I 
 hardly had two mouthfiils for lunch, and all we could 
 discuss was the rottenness of the meal. Curt, who had 
 quickly laid down his fork upon tasting the salmon, 
 but who had maintained silence while we continued 
 on before finding out for ourselves, now offered the 
 suggestion that food be not discussed at the table, and 
 if a person should not like it, for him to keep it to 
 himself Of course we thanked Curt for letting us 
 know the food was bad and ever since have viewed 
 with suspicion any move on his part to lay down his 
 knife and fork. I must admit that it's a great idea — to 
 keep it to yourself if you're being poisoned. 
 
. 34 • 
 
 At last we reached Edinburgh and for a wonder 
 walked to the Caledonian Station Hotel — an excel- 
 lent exception to my rule — and whither we had for- 
 warded our luggage. Baths and clean clothes made 
 new men of us; and then Harry and I launched out to 
 hunt motors, only to stumble on this wonderful piece 
 of good fortune at the very door. The head porter 
 proved to be a part owner of the 24-30 six-cylinder 
 Napier, to which I have referred, and the car, back 
 from a long tour to London, was ready for another 
 party. Needless to say, we did not drive the bargain at 
 once, and it was not long before we were offered the 
 car gratis for the next morning's shopping and sight- 
 seeing. A fine dinner, followed by a vaudeville show, 
 only slightly disturbed by a bunch of Scotch medical 
 students on a spree, finished the day. 
 
 The Edinburgh shops are fascinating. They were 
 quite too much for five of us and the firms of For- 
 syth & Co., and Romanes & Patterson between them 
 made an ordinary month's profit off us. Mufflers, 
 plaid ties, stockings, and last but not least, suits of 
 knickerbockers, were literally lapped up, and little time 
 was left for the citadel, the University, and the beauti- 
 ful St. Giles Cathedral. Our motor helped us here, and 
 at noon we came to an agreement with the porter for 
 the week's trip that Mother is grvitig us. Harry and 
 Pete came to the front with an offer to take us to St. An- 
 
• 35 • 
 drew's, blowing in some of their pool money for the 
 afternoon's rent of the car. After a hurried lunch we 
 went across the Firth of Forth in a ferry, whence we 
 commanded a fine view of the great railway bridge fur- 
 ther up. George did not go with us for fear of losing 
 his train to London in the evening. 
 
 A puncture, six miles from the links, was not an 
 inconvenience, due to the Stepney helping-shoe which 
 we fortunately carried — an arrangement that might 
 be used advantageously in all the States. There was 
 only a short time for golf, and the old links were 
 crowded; but Harry and I managed to get in five holes 
 on another course just as good. I got a couple of fives, 
 but my playing was nothing to brag about, tho' I man- 
 aged to break even with Harry. Curt didn't play. It was 
 a most enjoyable day, and we got back in time to see 
 George off for London. It has been awfully nice hav- 
 ing him with us, and he has been a good additon to the 
 party tho' now with the original European party and 
 the trip going along as planned, there is not that un- 
 avoidable restraint there was before. 
 
36 
 
 Regent Hotel, 
 
 Leamington, Warwickshire, 
 
 Wednesday, July 20. 
 
 WELL, we're off in the automobile! It was or- 
 dered for a nine-thirty start, but, of course, we 
 didn't gGt started till eleven. The "boys" had to do 
 some more shopping, and then Robert was delayed in 
 changing a shoe he had blown out the day before. You 
 ought to have seen us in our new Scotch knickers : Curt 
 in a light-gray homespun Norfolk jacket; Harry in a 
 smart-fitting, yellow-striped grayish riding-suit; Pete 
 in a dark-green mixture; Benny in a sky-blue tweed 
 (darned pretty! but one of those you like to see better 
 on some one else than yourself); and I in a brown-and- 
 green effect (horrible-sounding, but really the most 
 conservative of the lot). Altogether, we were what you 
 might describe as an incongruous harmony. The funny 
 thing was that Harry, finding out that Curt, in his quiet 
 and secretive way, had ordered "snappy" leather 
 buttons on his coat, changed the order for us all to 
 correspond. 
 
 We all got away with the latest mode in sporting- 
 buttons fairly well, save Pete, with whose green mix- 
 
• 37 • 
 ture they utterly failed to jibe. "They look like chest- 
 nuts," Pete said. At any rate, we got a good deal of fun 
 out of his discomfort. 
 
 Perhaps I had better explain right here that our 
 plunging into a week's auto tour was the result of 
 Mother's giving us the trip — not any recklessness of 
 our own. We certainly were lucky to get such a good 
 car — a 1910 Napier landaulet, which, for all our pur- 
 poses, was as good as a touring-car and afforded the 
 additional protection from rain. As I have already 
 remarked, Robert was another find — an invaluable 
 man. 
 
 Starting off from Edinburgh, I had the front seat for 
 the thirty-seven-mile drive to Melrose. I might just as 
 well make here a comment which holds true for every 
 bit of the trip thus far: The roads are all perfect and put 
 to shame our own. The country on every side is always 
 interesting. If it is a wheat field or a pasture, it is 
 bounded, perhaps not as economically as pictur- 
 esquely, by little hedges of bush or trees. The fences, 
 mostly of stone, are ivy-grown and add to the general 
 effect. Very frequently one passes through pretty little 
 woods, or more often they may be seen in the vista to 
 either side. All of this is true of the ride to Melrose 
 and the days following. 
 
 A puncture to one of the front tires, a new tube 
 which was pinched, was our first misfortune; but the 
 
• 38 • 
 handy Stepney got us to Melrose without further mis- 
 hap, where Robert made repairs. A delightful inn be- 
 side the Abbey refreshed us with a luncheon not un- 
 worthy of the place, and then we saw at our ease the 
 magnificent ruins behind. Here, Alexander I of Scot- 
 land was buried, and other notables; but most impres- 
 sive were the fine old arches and windows, the tracery 
 of which remains in perfect form. A remarkable coinci- 
 de4ice occurred in this old ruin: On sighting a well- 
 known emblem on one of the walls — one holding lit- 
 tle glamour for the present party — Pete rather pugilis- 
 tically started to vent his feelings for the edification of 
 us all, when, whom should we meet but C. S. Campbell, 
 '09, with his wife. The humour of the situation was 
 certainly appreciated, though the laughter nearly broke 
 out before the latter party had departed. 
 
 Abbotsford, the wonderful home of Sir Walter 
 Scott, was our next point of inspection and indeed a 
 most interesting one. It was not hard to figure how he 
 wrote his prolific Waverley series in that romantic 
 treasure house of armour, swords, books, and all sorts 
 of curios that the collector would give a fortune for. I 
 cannot imagine a more complete preservation of an 
 author's belongings and atmosphere. Even his last suit 
 of clothes was there on exhibition, and Benny felt not a 
 little cocky that it bore a resemblance to his own 
 checked suit. 
 
. 39 • 
 
 Then on to Hawick (pronounced "Hike'* for the 
 benefit of the bourgeoise) where we were delayed with 
 the repair of another tire — the second tube for that 
 front shoe. Pretty hard luck for the first day! The lat- 
 ter part of the afternoon in a wonderfiil ride through 
 the Cheviot Hills more than made up for it. Great 
 rolling mounds of velvet, they looked, and on their 
 sides browsed countless flocks of sheep. In the quiet 
 and warmth of the fading day, that scenery more nearly 
 approached grandeur than anything I have ever seen 
 — save possibly in the mountains. 
 
 Late into Carlisle, we paid no heed to its fine cathe- 
 dral, about which we were all far too ignorant, and 
 made use of the long twilight to speed on to Keswick 
 at our twenty-five-mile average, whither we arrived at 
 9 P.M. We made a botch of choosing a hotel, riding 
 a mile out to Derwentwater on an impulse of Harry's, 
 only to trot back to the Keswick Hotel. A jaunt into 
 the town that night in an effort to resurrect a little 
 famous old port and some duck, strongly recom- 
 mended by George Eliot at the King's Arms, was un- 
 successfiil, both from that point of view and from the 
 farcical attempt of Benny, Harry, and myself to become 
 acquainted with a most attractive English girl with an 
 escort. Pete and Curt put any possible success out of 
 the question. All Pete could think of in the little 
 candy shop we entered was to ask for TEA! Tea at 
 9.30 P.M. 
 
• 40 • 
 
 The next morning, Sunday, saw Harry take my place 
 as courier. I don't think I shall try to describe here that 
 beautiful ride through the English Lake Country, past 
 Thirlmere and Grasmere, on to Bowness on Lake 
 Windermere. Anyone familiar with the country can 
 imagine our enjoyment. A little book of Words- 
 worth's poems that I purchased with special reference 
 to the Lake District proved most enjoyable to me as 
 we rode through the country which he loved so well. 
 
 Dove Cottage! There was one of those rare experi- 
 ences that are bound to be written deep in one's mem- 
 ory. I think that in Wordsworth's simple little home 
 we came very close to getting in perfect accord with 
 the spirit of the place. The old lady who showed us 
 around, knew personally Dorothy and her brother 
 William, and her information consequently seemed to 
 be of a more intimate nature than one would generally 
 expect. The old manuscripts and first editions, the 
 portraits and personal memorabilia of Wordsworth, 
 were all most interesting, but best of all was his little 
 garden at the rear. 
 
 "O happy Garden! whose seclusion deep 
 Hath been so friendly to industrious hours; 
 And to soft: slumbers, that did gently steep 
 Our spirits, carrying with them dreams of flowers, 
 And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers." 
 
 There, climbing the rough-hewn steps which the 
 
• 41 • 
 poet had cut himself, we sat down and rested in the 
 little arbour. The view over the little lake was perfect; 
 and as we breathed that fragrant air, we imbibed for 
 the while some of the spirit of Wordsworth, to which 
 certainly our souls were tuned — for that little visit 
 preached hundreds of sermons to us. 
 
 "In this sequestered nook how sweet 
 To sit upon my orchard seat." 
 
 Below us was the well, of which the poet writes: 
 
 "If you listen, all is still 
 Save a little neighbouring rill, 
 That from out the rocky ground 
 Strikes a solitary sound.'* 
 
 These very passages and more I read aloud from my 
 little book, while Merrell also read a few passages 
 from Dorothy's remarkable journal. These I only add 
 to remind me of that morning — words cannot de- 
 scribe it further. 
 
 Leaving the cottage, we ran plumb into some 
 steamer friends — whom but Mrs. Woodward and 
 Miss Koertz, who asked us to dine with them at their 
 hotel at Bowness — the Old England. A half-hour's 
 run brought us to that charming hotel, where we 
 finally took Miss Eleanor Woodward to lunch with us. 
 It was indeed nice to see her again — but what a re- 
 markable chance-meeting it was. 
 
 We were quite naturally delayed till two-thirty in 
 
• 42 • 
 getting off. I must skip hurriedly over another long 
 afternoon's run. On the day before the speedometer 
 registered 146. Sunday it was 124, but our course led 
 us over very steep mountains, cross-country into York- 
 shire. Moreover, we had first, a puncture, then a bad 
 blow-out — necessitating a difficult change of shoes 
 and all sorts of trouble putting an old tube to a new 
 tire. As still another tire had gone flat in the night, 
 our mishaps, including the St. Andrew's trip, now 
 numbered six. The result was that at dark (9:45 P.M.) 
 we had to put up for the night at 'Arrogate, twenty 
 miles short of York. With all our trouble, including 
 a fifteen-mile misdirected detour, the scenery was 
 grand, the hills being second only to the Cheviot 
 Hills of the day before. Curtiss found more practical 
 consolation in "whis-keh," which he carried in his 
 thermos bottle (Harry says it's a good thing for sud- 
 den chills). 
 
 At 'Arrogate (still sticking to Robert's pronuncia- 
 tion) we stayed at the Queen Hotel — which we be- 
 lieved to be the best in that "fashionable English spa," 
 but which proved to be a sanatorium for "cons" and 
 other invalids. Perhaps that's the reason they charged 
 our courier eight bobs on the bill, for attendance. The 
 proprietress eyed us as if to ask what we had come 
 there for; but otherwise we were treated very well. 
 
 The next two days, Monday and Tuesday, in which, 
 
• 43 • 
 under Benny's architectural guidance, we made a quick 
 study of the EngHsh cathedrals, I intend to devote 
 little space to — not that they were less interesting, 
 but because I have already written a good deal. The 
 country was level and the roads good, as usual, and 
 we took matters much more leisurely. A few words 
 about each: 
 
 York, our first, we reached in the forenoon, Mon- 
 day. It is the largest in England (of tremendous width 
 and height, and most impressive, tho* not strikingly 
 beautiful. We toiled up the two hundred seventy-two 
 steps to the top of the tower, whence we obtained a 
 fine and close view of the work on the outside, as well 
 as of the country around. The town, one of the oldest 
 in England, with part of the old wall still standing, 
 seemed most interesting; and we hated to hurry on 
 after lunch. That day we made Lincoln— a hundred 
 miles in all — and the view of the cathedral which 
 stands on a high hill, was most impressive as we ap- 
 proached the city. We stopped a few minutes at Don- 
 caster en route (where incidentally a motor cyclist ran 
 into us, without serious damage), to see one of the 
 finest examples of modern art in the little cathedral 
 there situated. 
 
 Our rather political evening in Lincoln I have al- 
 ready described, and I need only mention, in conclu- 
 sion, that we spent an uncomfortable night there in a 
 
• 44 • 
 rotten station hotel. Lincoln Cathedral is more beau- 
 tiful, to my mind, than York. Its three towers are fin- 
 ished off with spires, and the narrower nave and inte- 
 rior are more beautiful. The old Norman Cathedral 
 of Peterborough was still more interesting. Its stained- 
 glass windows, demolished by Cromwell's troops, 
 are not yet refilled. Speaking of windows — the one 
 in five different designs (called the "Five Sisters"), at 
 York, was the most beautiful. The windows there, in 
 proportion with the immense size of the building, 
 are the largest in the world. I forgot to mention that 
 at Lincoln we attended the larger part of a service, and 
 that occupied most of our attention. We also heard 
 the old bell, ''Tom Lincoln," strike. Peterborough, 
 however, was quite a different proposition, being of 
 Norman origin. The alternate round and square col- 
 umns and the beautiful rounded apse — the only one 
 in the world — were indicative of its style, as well as 
 the rounded arches, but the enlarged windows with 
 perpendicular tracery rather mar its architectural beau- 
 ty, I suppose — tho* goodness knows, it's all the same 
 to me. A remarkable feature of the cathedral is the new 
 appearance of the stone, which was some time ago 
 thoroughly cleansed, so that the building looks quite 
 recent. We enjoyed this cathedral immensely, perhaps 
 because we did not look forward to visiting it and 
 were pleasantly surprised. Its facade is tremendous in 
 
. 45 • 
 width and very beautiful. We were entertained in ad- 
 dition by a guide who had Rip Rive's chuckle and 
 accent all over. 
 
 After lunch, on our way to Ely, I managed to lose 
 the car in the Fens District of Lincolnshire — a detour 
 of some miles — but after a disappointing "tea** (we 
 had to fall back on ale) at the Crossed-Keys Tavern, 
 we finally arrived about 6 P.M. Ely has just one tower, 
 in the centre — purely Gothic and again unique in 
 this feature. The octagonal tower, however, is far less 
 impressive than the dome or spire. Its nave is the 
 longest in England, and, with a reasonably narrow 
 arch, the effect is fine. Best of all, however, was the 
 soft coloring of the roof, painted by Sir Gilbert Scott, 
 who was also the chief modern decorator of Peter- 
 borough. A quick drive of fifteen miles got us to Cam- 
 bridge, where we put up at Ye Olde Castel Inn, at 
 only sixty cents apiece — in consequence whereof, 
 our feelings were akin to trepidation. 
 
46 
 
 Hotel Cecil, 
 
 London, England, 
 
 Sunday, July 24, 1910. 
 
 IT is not easy to sit down and try to review the 
 events of the last three or four days after an entire 
 day spent in writing letters and postal cards. After all, 
 though, I am rather satisfied with my first day in the 
 great City of London. It has at least given us a much- 
 wanted opportunity for rest. Quite naturally, too — 
 now that we are in London — it has rained all day. 
 But I must try to pick up the threads of my narrative 
 as best I may. Let's see — we were in Cambridge: 
 
 We had, as usual, quite definitely set a time for 
 starting in the morning — but quite as usually, we 
 missed the mark by half an hour — the wrong way. 
 We were all on hand but Harry, a situation which has 
 repeated itself frequently enough to be annoying. We 
 were handicapped as it was, by having a one-legged 
 guide. He was a pleasant-enough sort of a chap — but 
 that wooden leg was a decided drawback to a party of 
 our speed. 
 
 Cambridge was very interesting. I am glad to have 
 seen it, because most Americans, if they see only one 
 
• 47 • 
 university, choose Oxford. Think of Old South Mid- 
 dle with its hundred and sixty years of history and 
 tradition! Why, here they go back six hundred years! 
 It is all brought home to you how young we are. The 
 college courts are really wonderful. Fenced in by 
 attractive borders or rails, their greensward is respect- 
 ed — and one would honestly hesitate to tread on the 
 grass — so well it looks. Then the students seem to 
 have a veneration and respect for the antiquity of the 
 place, as indeed they should — and do their part nobly 
 towards making the grounds attractive by placing 
 boxes of flowers outside their windows. Perhaps the 
 most interesting were the little chapels and the dining- 
 halls, in the latter of which the renowned graduates 
 of the college are forever looking down on the faces 
 of their successors (the present generation). Best of all, 
 of course, was the wonderful King's College Chapel. 
 This indeed is the most beautiful chapel I have ever 
 seen. The fan-tracery ceiling and the windows, whose 
 perfect perpendicular lines are traced from floor to 
 roof, are magnificent. 
 
 Our guide told us many interesting anecdotes of 
 the present day and of the famous men in the Univer- 
 sity's roll. I remember particularly stories of Gray and 
 Byron. In a corner of the Trinity College quadrangle 
 we saw the rooms which Macaulay, Thackeray, Byron, 
 and Sir Isaac Newton had occupied; and Macaulay's 
 
• 48 • 
 we visited. The interior of these buildings is not one 
 whit better than our Farnam, but the rooms them- 
 selves are much more tastefully decorated by the oc- 
 cupants. 
 
 As we walked slowly around the town from college 
 to college, in time to the hobble of our guide, we were 
 again lured by the shops, and before we got thro', we 
 made a thorough inspection of the Chase & Co., and 
 Fitzgerald of the town. Curt, of course, was on the 
 lookout for pick-ups. He is always picking something 
 up, you know. At lunch, all of a sudden, he will bring 
 something to light from his pocket, and when asked 
 where he got it, will always reply, "Oh, I just picked 
 it up on the way." If he can get nothing else, he will 
 at least "pick up'* a complete guide to the town. 
 Sounds as if he just kind of helps himself to these 
 things, but I guess the coins are slipping out of his 
 pocket as well as they are from mine. Curt has such a 
 sly way about him — stealing off by himself noiselessly, 
 without a word to any one — it has taken us some lit- 
 tle time to ferret out all these little idiosyncracies. 
 
 Eighty-three miles to Leamington — still another 
 English spa — made a good afternoon's run, broken 
 by tea at the Wheat Sheaf Inn, wherever it is situated, 
 I have forgotten now — and by our first rain, more in 
 the nature of a shower, however. Of course, another 
 tire. No. 7, had to go at the completion of the eighty- 
 
• 49 • 
 second mile, but the Stepney got us to the Regent 
 Hotel with little delay. The general impression seemed 
 to be that I had at least made good on my "spas." 
 
 Coincidence No. 2: Lo! and behold! there was 
 Eleanor Woodward in the writing-room. Now, what 
 do you think of that.^ — four days after our meeting 
 at Windermere! Great excitement in the party and 
 general feeling of satisfaction! Pete seemed particularly 
 pleased — before the evening was over, it was "Pete" 
 and "Eleanor." Mr. and Mrs. Parsons, Bill's father and 
 mother, we also found at the hotel. Harry and I had 
 a very nice chat with Mrs. Parsons after dinner and 
 then wrote our diaries and letters. Gee! that was way 
 back — some time ago. 
 
 Thursday, July 21, is the stellar sight-seeing day of 
 the trip. Somehow or other I don't feel like comment- 
 ing on it particularly. Kenilworth was great but 
 spoiled by our lack of knowledge on the subject and 
 by the perfect hordes of people in the ruins. We were 
 not in the spirit of the place at all and literally rough- 
 housed our way around. On our way to Warwick, we 
 stopped to view Guy's Cliife, the estate of Lord Alger- 
 non Percy, if you please, and ended by my sending his 
 Lordship the following note: 
 
 "Is it possible for a party of five interested Amer- 
 icans to have the privilege of viewing this estate.'^ The 
 courtesy would be deeply appreciated. 
 
 "Earl Williams." 
 
• 50 • 
 
 Whether my Lord Perq^ would have sat up and 
 taken notice, I am unable to say, for we failed even to 
 get the message past the charwoman at the gate. War- 
 wick was bully! Here we got a very clear idea of how 
 one of these places is run. It is occupied to-day as it 
 was centuries ago when its roofs gave shelter to kings. 
 I think this adds considerably to its charm. The gar- 
 dens and walks were lovely, although millions of flies 
 made them intensely disagreeable. The tour of the 
 apartments was most interesting. There were many 
 fine pictures — the best, a picture of a Genoese Count- 
 ess, by Van Dyck, and relics galore. How odd it seemed 
 to find in the spacious, high-roofed living-room, 
 stamped all over with its age, modern books that have 
 scarcely left the printer's. We finally said good-by to 
 the Earl's peacocks and walked down the pretty high- 
 walled walk to our machine, where Curt took a few 
 more pictures on one film before we started. 
 
 Stratford for lunch — Shakespeare Hotel — and 
 then visits to the church and the houses of "Shake" 
 and his wife, Ann Hathaway. Coincidence at the latter 
 — simultaneous visit of Eleanor! Pete thought he was 
 getting off something pretty cute when he took her 
 to sit on the bench where Shakespeare made love to 
 Ann. Not so darned clever, though — and I'm not 
 jealous either! Just for curiosity's sake, I wonder how 
 many pictures we have taken of Miss Woodward? Of 
 
• 51 • 
 the three places referred to, the church was the most 
 interesting, in spite of the fact that I'm getting darned 
 tired of churches. 
 
 Good-by to Eleanor — Broadway next; and pros- 
 pects of a delightful tea with Mrs Royal "Whitman at 
 the home of the artist Frank Millet, and his wife, with 
 Sargent on hand to paint our portraits. The fact that 
 we were unable to get "through" from Stratford on a 
 telephonic communication had not altered our hopes, 
 but Mrs. Whitman was "in town,'* and we were 
 doomed to disappointment. 
 
 Having developed by this time a very worthy after- 
 noon tea habit, we settled right down at the Lygon 
 Arms Inn. This proved to be a veritable treasure- 
 house — an old inn dating back actually over four 
 hundred years and every inch of it fiill of interest. 
 Situated in a most piauresque town itself, the im- 
 pression left on our minds was exceedingly pleasant. 
 In fact, I wouldn't have missed Broadway for anything, 
 and there are others besides myself who have added 
 it to their list of honeymoon possibilities already 
 comprising the Trossachs and the English lakes. 
 
 Our motor gasped and struggled up a long high 
 hill — for we now changed our plans and headed for 
 Oxford — abandoning the Valley of the Wye in Wales 
 altogether for a trip straight to London — but at last 
 we made it, and at about 8 P.M. rolled up to the Clar- 
 
• 52 • 
 endon Family Hotel. Of course, Eleanor Woodward 
 had arrived five minutes before us and was still in her 
 auto at the door as we drove up. We manifested not 
 the slightest surprise this time. I only wish I had got- 
 ten a better start on the boat — now that we are to see 
 her so much! Pete was rather tickled that she discov- 
 ered that his moustache was off. I ^ivc her lots of 
 credit for that — we hadn't noticed any difference. 
 Pardon me, if I smile at Pete's remark the other morn- 
 ing: "Well, I know one thing positively, that I can 
 grow a darned good moustache" — wherewith, satis- 
 fied, he removed the few stray hairs that hovered on 
 the edges of his mouth. Wrote letters again that night. 
 
 We had a guide with two legs, for Oxford — but 
 there was a drawback just the same in the well — not 
 exactly fragrant odor that permeated his whole person 
 and the atmosphere for some distance about. He was 
 willing, however, and as he could be heard quite easily 
 from a short distance away, we got along very well. 
 I believe "Icy Cup" (Harry can tell you all about "Icy 
 Cup,** as he got a tip on him thro' eavesdropping the 
 other night), was partly responsible for our guide's 
 condition by winning a race at Goodwood the day 
 before. 
 
 The grounds at Oxford are more beautifiil than at 
 Cambridge. The college courts are perhaps not quite 
 so attractive, tho* the difference is scarcely perceptible 
 
• 53 • 
 — but the grounds belonging to the college are far 
 more spacious and are rich in their gardens and beau- 
 tiful walks. Addison's Walk, the shaded avenue that 
 forms the boundary of Magdalen College, is wonder- 
 ful and easily surpasses the best of Cambridge, Tenny- 
 son's Walk. As the guide pointed out, it is the atmos- 
 phere of Oxford that makes the college. Indeed, I 
 have never seen any college surroundings more grand. 
 Princeton is the best example of the American colleges 
 that I can think of which strives for the same effect, 
 but the comparison is as "odorous" as our guide. 
 
 Oxford and Cambridge invite contrast with Yale 
 and Harvard. The names of either pair are inevitably 
 linked. In my fancy, Oxford comes the nearer to Yale: 
 that is, judging from her men ; whereas at Cambridge 
 it was the great poets, the literary lights of English 
 history, whose portraits we saw on the walls. Here it 
 was rather the great statesmen, the politicians of Eng- 
 land — the great citizens, you might say. Here was 
 the university of the two Pitts, of Burke, of the prom- 
 inent men of to-day, Asquith, Campbell-Bannerman, 
 etc., and the greater soldiers, too. Unfortunately we 
 cannot claim for Yale a monopoly of our great states- 
 men — far from it — but I should judge that the aver- 
 age Yale man is of more practical use to his commu- 
 nity than is the man from Harvard, which can well 
 boast a magnificent proportion of our men of letters. 
 
• 54 • 
 This is idle conjecture, for I am informed that Cam- 
 bridge is by far the more democratic university — that 
 Oxford's snobbery is nigh intolerable — and that the 
 similarity, if any (which I much doubt), would be 
 rather Yale and Cambridge as against Harvard and 
 Oxford. Bill Cushing, 1908, who is taking a course 
 at Merton and making good in every way, could en- 
 lighten me on this point. "We were sorry to miss both 
 Bill and Dwight Meigs, who left only recently for 
 America. 
 
 Perhaps the two most interesting things we saw in 
 the college buildings themselves, were the great win- 
 dow of New College, designed by Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 (the guide calls it the world's greatest), of the Seven 
 Virtues — the four Cardinal Virtues: Temperance, 
 Fortitude, Judgment, and Prudence, two on either side 
 of the Christian Virtues, Faith, Hope and Charity; and 
 the beautiful memorial to Shelley, in University Col- 
 lege. Nothing, however, approached in magnificence 
 to King's Chapel, Cambridge. While viewing the Ox- 
 ford Library, we ran into George Nettleton, '96, and 
 the hour's visit we had with him as we pursued our 
 way about the grounds was most pleasant. Our visits to 
 these two great English universities has at least caused 
 a reconstruction of our views of English university 
 life. They are not institutions demanding an all- 
 absorbing scholarly interest. For the large majority of 
 
• 55 • 
 
 students the college course is one of leisure — and 
 athletics, in the many different teams that represent 
 the colleges, occupy an even larger sphere than in 
 America. 
 
 We were pretty tired of sight-seeing on leaving 
 Oxford and came very near breaking our trip up then 
 and there by a dash direct to London. I am glad that 
 reason dictated our route, for Friday afternoon's run 
 was one of the most delightful we had. By the way, 
 though, I forgot to mention that in our Oxford wan- 
 derings we met four classmates: "Skinny'* Connell, 
 "Dummy" Logan, Fred Hotchkiss, and Glen Heedy. 
 More of them, in London! 
 
 We now turned to a different section of England: 
 — Wiltshire and Lincolnshire. The change was re- 
 freshing. On our way to Salisbury we visited Stone- 
 henge, where are relics of an age far antedating any- 
 thing we have yet seen. The old Druid Sun Temple 
 there is thirty-six hundred years old, constructed, 
 scientists have figured, about 1700 B.C. These massive 
 stones, weighing five to ten tons apiece, piled one on 
 top of the other in a great circle were, needless to say, 
 most impressive. 
 
 The thirty-five-mile ride from Stonehenge to Win- 
 chester was the prettiest, for pure natural scenery, of 
 the trip, though there were many parts of the next 
 day's ride to London that were almost as attraaive. 
 
• 56 • 
 The many beautiful woods, the quaint and neat little 
 thatched-roof cottages, many of which we just brushed 
 as we passed, and the countless number of ferns that 
 now made their appearance on the walls to either side 
 — all added to the general effect and to our pleasure. 
 
 At Salisbury we had our daily tea — not at a hotel, 
 but at a dainty little tea shop in that picturesque town 
 — for Salisbury is indeed picturesque. As Benny said, 
 " It has an air about it." There is a refined atmosphere 
 that stamps it as peculiarly its own, and had there been 
 a good hotel we would have lingered. The cathedral 
 gates were closed, but we saw the best of it on the 
 outside, for I understand the interior is quite plain 
 and bare. The cathedral is situated appropriately in a 
 beautiful park of several hundred acres, but its chief 
 adornment is its one lone and lofty spire, towering to 
 a height of over four hundred feet and inspiring be- 
 yond anything similar that I have ever seen. 
 
 The George Hotel in Winchester did us very well 
 for the night. After some letter-writing, I wandered 
 out into the town, encountering Benny on a similar 
 saunter as I approached the cathedral. A full moon 
 shone over one end of it and we enjoyed a half-hour 
 of the peace and quiet of the park, the grim stone edi- 
 fice standing out like a sentinel. Who could help 
 speculating on the days and years it has thus stood 
 silently? Its interior the next morning was interesting 
 
• 57 • 
 for the many great tombs and monuments — an his- 
 torical interest rivaling Westminster; but we did not 
 stay long and by ten were on our way to London. We 
 deliberated some time between "pinching" an attrac- 
 tive inn poster of two crossed keys over one of the 
 doors and asking to buy it for a few shillings. We 
 tried the latter and found that it was a priceless heir- 
 loom, being with one other sign, the sole relic of the 
 inn in the sixteenth and seventeeth centuries — wish 
 we had pinched it! 
 
 Windsor for lunch and a tour of that great hetero- 
 geneous place and the royal state apartments — then 
 our final start for the metropolis of the world. We 
 made an ineffectual effort to seeWatts's "Sir Galahad" 
 in the Eton Chapel, but a service prevented, so we 
 went on to Stoke Poges, the Country Churchyard of 
 Gray's Elegy. Of course we saw the old yew, under 
 which we were photographed (even as Billy Phelps) 
 and also the fine monument to Gray in the field ad- 
 joming, which is taken care of rather poorly. The scene 
 of the eighteenth century's greatest poem was worth 
 while seeing, though our near approach to London 
 detracted from proper reverence. As we went on our 
 way, I found time to read again those great lines: 
 
 "Let not ambition mock their useful toil. 
 Their homely joys and destiny obscure; 
 Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
 The short and simple annals of the poor. 
 
• 58 • 
 "Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife 
 Their sober wishes never learned to stray; 
 Along the cool sequestered vale of life 
 They kept the noiseless tenor of their way/* 
 
 6 P.M., Saturday, July twenty-third, we arrived at 
 the Cecil — not exactly what we had expected to do, 
 but Garlant's English Hotel was unable to take care 
 of us, and after trying the Metropole it seemed to be 
 a reasonable approach to "plushness" at only six 
 shillings a day. It was five bobs when courier Curtiss 
 brought us word that we could be accommodated; so 
 we jumped out. Later, he remembered the clerk said 
 six, but I suppose we are lucky to get off that easy. I 
 was sorry to leave Robert — he is about the best I have 
 encountered in the line of chauffeurs and has Ward or 
 Carlin lashed to the mast. It was a pleasure, strange as 
 it sounds, to give him four pounds, and it was none 
 too much. 
 
 A great week, ay what? — Now for the big city. 
 
59 
 
 La Princesse Clementiney 
 
 Dover to Ostend, 
 
 Saturday, July 30, 1910. 
 
 THE sea seems to be my inspiration, so far as 
 writing is concerned. This time bids fair at pres- 
 ent to be tlie last though, for I can as yet see no vast 
 body of water to obstruct our way on the Continent. 
 It is now about seven-thirty, and Benny, Harry, and I, 
 having finished a slight tea-supper effect, are on deck 
 enjoying the cool breeze from the north. We are still 
 two hours distant from Ostend, so I at least have time 
 to collect my thoughts on London. I scarcely know 
 just where to begin on such a huge subject. Guess I'll 
 just ramble as usual — but first,let me make a few re- 
 marks about the Hotel Cecil: I hope I shall never have 
 to return to it. It looks first-class, and it ought to be 
 first-class — the room service, in fact, is, and it has an 
 excellent laundry, but that is all I can well venture. The 
 Grill, for one thing, is a joke. The attendants there 
 stationed are perfectly in harmony with its hideous 
 walls. Last night at one we tried to get some milk 
 and sandwiches — it took us ten minutes, at least, to 
 drum the complicated order into the head of a dumb 
 
• 60 • 
 waiter. He disappeared, and after ten minutes more we 
 called another. He went off, and a third appeared and 
 most politely asked if we wished to order anything. 
 We said we had ordered, and he said, "Yes, but I 
 can't find your waiter.'* His next report was that they 
 didn't have any cold milk. As we were not particular 
 about having it hot, we got up and left. The dining- 
 room upstairs is scarcely better; and altogether, I 
 don't relish living in a marble palace, if one is given 
 the attention he might expect in a barn. The people, 
 too, were not interesting and the class of Americans 
 rather cheap. As it turned out, we could have gotten 
 in Garlant's, after all — but, however, do not think the 
 hotel spoiled our week in London — far from it! 
 
 I suppose it would have been natural to start ojSF 
 with Westminster Abbey and the Tate Gallery. Our 
 first visits with one accord were to the shops. As Harry 
 rather aptly expressed it: "Curt went at London as if 
 he were preparing for a battle," with maps and charts 
 galore, followed by a two-hour campaign in the streets, 
 whereby he located every shop that was of the slightest 
 importance. Consequently, the ground was familiar 
 when the real fight began Monday. Benny and he had 
 the better of it till noon — having entered many stores 
 and purchased nothing. They were due to succumb, 
 however, before long. Harry, Pete, and I had already 
 surrendered in the forenoon. We wrestled with Skin- 
 
• 61 • 
 ner & Co., for an hour or so, but went on to Whit- 
 aker's, on Conduit Street, where neither the cut nor 
 the price was so extreme. Crash! Four suits, in ten 
 minutes at $32.00 per, Harry taking two. He has been 
 the prize spender — with three overcoats, two suits, 
 and a new travelling-bag. Thank heavens, I got over 
 my buying mania last year — rather, that the second 
 attack is less severe. The latter is better, I think, for I 
 spent beyond my means as it was, and my purse is thin 
 for the rest of the trip. Still, as I needed a new overcoat, 
 a new blue suit for winter, and a new raincoat, I do 
 not regard my investments as being at all bad ones. 
 Our experience at MacDougall's had its fimny side. 
 We were warned at Whitaker's that the gentleman is 
 frequently referred to as the "Robber of the North.** 
 Nevertheless, we found no coats to equal his raglans. 
 It took Harry just about five minutes to take two of 
 them — only one for himself, to do him fiill justice. 
 Then after a lunch at Prince's Restaurant ("we eat out,'* 
 almost without exception), Benny, Curt, and I went 
 back and "crashed'* one coat — one apiece. Pete saun- 
 tered in presently, and though he had had no intention 
 of getting an overcoat, was before long entrapped into 
 looking at them, and finally captured by a sofi: black 
 woolly material almost twice as expensive as any of the 
 others.It was awfiilly fine,though,and far be it fi:om me 
 to blame him for a human weakness. Benny, too, could 
 
• 62 • 
 not resist and gave up all thought of an ordinary coat 
 for a similiarly plush affair, which, as Pete says, will be 
 bully for the opera. That means three or four times it 
 will shine at least. Only a day elapsed before H. T. C. 
 duplicated the order — No. 3 for him. Right there are 
 eight coats in our party — add to that three raincoats 
 and the five of us have bought eleven — five suits of 
 knickers in Scotland, seven more suits in London, and 
 the grand total comes to twenty-three. I guess it is 
 time we got out. Great Scott! I am beginning to won- 
 der whether we came to Europe to "see" or to "buy." 
 The amount of space I have given to buying is not 
 too great in proportion to the time devoted to it in 
 lieu of other things. It certainly takes the top place in 
 the events of the week. Before passing on, I should 
 mention a calabash pipe, a new hat, and many much- 
 needed shirts and ties that now swell my two travelling 
 bags. (Collars and socks and pictures on the way home, 
 if I have any "poonds" left.) At 4 RM on that Mon- 
 day I am writing about, I was "all in" and retired to 
 my room in the Cecil for rest. 
 
 What else have I done? Well, I have seen West- 
 minster and St. Paul's again, enjoying the Poets' Corner 
 in the former more than ever. I passed by the Tower 
 and the British Museum this time, although I suppose 
 I had better go inside the latter sometime just to say 
 I have been there. Then I spent one delightfiil morn- 
 
• 63 • 
 ing with Benny in the Tate Gallery, of which I can 
 never see too much, and expect to purchase prints of 
 Watts's "Love and Death" and the "Rich Young Rul- 
 er," as well as Burne- Jones's "King Cophetua and the 
 Beggar Maid," on my return, to add to my young col- 
 lection. The National Portrait Gallery, which I saw 
 alone (and which I alone saw), was most interesting, 
 though the interest for me was centered in what I sup- 
 pose one could call properly the "poets* room." Here, 
 in one small room, were the portraits by artists who had 
 sat face to face with their subjects, of such men as 
 Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, Thackeray, Dickens, 
 Maucaulay, Browning, Tennyson, etc. — in fact, all 
 that I know anything about. On one side, all in a row, 
 were magnificent pictures by Watts of John Stuart 
 Mill, Cardinal Manning, Carlyle, Morris, Rossetti, 
 Swinburne, Arnold, Tennyson, and Browning. While 
 Watts's pictures were the ones I enjoyed the most, side 
 by side were hung portraits by such artists as SchefFer, 
 Lord Leighton, Millais, and Reynolds. What a col- 
 lection that was! I never hope to see one like it, and 
 there, next each other, as they strangely enough lie 
 buried in Westminster Abbey, were Browning and 
 Tennyson — the very pictures I enjoyed reading about 
 in G. K. Chesterton's little book on Watts. Afi:er 
 hurriedly seeing the kings, queens, dukes, and states- 
 men of ages past, I peeped in on my way out for one 
 
• 64 • 
 final impression of those two great poets of the last 
 century. 
 
 One other collection I saw — the Wallace. Mr. 
 Gottschalk was good enough to give up an entire 
 morning to see that with us, and it was a real treat to 
 be guided by his fine artistic sense. Only we spent 
 two hours looking at all the pottery,glassware,armour, 
 etc., which I invariably skip, so that I was a little tired 
 when we came to the pictures. I did enjoy the minia- 
 tures,however,and the rest, too— only three and one- 
 half hours of it is a good deal at one stretch! Frans 
 Hals's "Laughing Cavalier," Reynolds's wonderfiil 
 portrait of "Nelly O'Brien," and the miniature master- 
 pieces of Meissonier — to say nothing of pictures by 
 Velasquez, Murillo, and Rembrandt, and other famous 
 masters — were enough to satisfy any one, however, 
 and the whole trip was most worth while. It is a mar- 
 vel to me how one family ever made such a collection, 
 so complete and remarkable for its quality that, as Mr. 
 Gottschalk said, it alone would be a sufficient adorn- 
 ment for one city — even London. 
 
 It was two o'clock when we adjourned to Selfridge's 
 large department store, where we had a most refresh- 
 ing lunch. That was Thursday, I think (I am not striv- 
 ing for chronological accuracy). Eating around, as we 
 always did, we visited a good many places. Simpson's 
 lunch-house for business men was one of the best we 
 
• 65 • 
 sampled. In the first place, it is one of the most at- 
 tractive rooms I have ever seen for exactly that pur- 
 pose. Then the service is fine. You choose your roast, 
 which is wheeled on little tables to your very seat, and 
 there a most appetizing dish is handed you, carved 
 from the bone before your eyes by one of the four 
 expert cooks and carvers, who have been doing that 
 very thing twice daily for twenty-five years. As Curt 
 expressed it to Harry, who was not with us when we 
 lunched there Tuesday: "The carving the cuts is de- 
 licious." We had dinner there one night, too. 
 
 Another place of equal interest was the old Cheshire 
 Cheese, off Fleet Street — though the condition of 
 my stomach did not warrant my partaking of the 
 pigeon pie that Harry and Pete seemed to relish. This 
 old house, the floors of which are strewn with saw- 
 dust, still smacks of the flavour that Dr. Johnson and 
 his circle have given it. One of Reynolds's greatest por- 
 traits of the greatest of literary kings looks down on 
 you as you eat. You almost hear the scrofiilous old 
 gentleman bellowing: "Sir, sir! How dare you profane 
 the walls of this tavern, sacred to my memory?'* Its 
 walls are indeed profaned by the presence, as well as 
 by the signatures, of our irreverent sight-seeing Amer- 
 ican brothers. 
 
 The good ship that is taking us to Ostend is even 
 now approaching her dock, so I must stop until op- 
 portunity presents itself in the near future. 
 
66 
 
 Hotel Splendide, 
 
 Ostend, Belgium, 
 
 Sunday evening, July 31, 1910. 
 
 ONE more dining-out experience — and this was 
 rather amusing! Monday evening was our first 
 chance to sport in evening clothes, and all but Harry 
 (whose forwarded suit case courier Roome had not 
 gotten from the AmericanExpress, so that he could not 
 dress) went to the Carlton. Pete gashed his face in 
 five or six places with a razor I had used to open a 
 package with and was a trifle late, as well as upset — 
 but Benny, Curt, and I sauntered boldly into the most 
 expensive room and were seated as much out of the 
 way as the head waiter could put us. Table d'hote we 
 expected — but no! there was none. 'I can make you 
 up, gentlemen, if you wish, a very nice little table 
 d'hote for twelve-and-six." "That's very nice," I had 
 occasion to reply, "you mean for the party." "No! 
 a head." That rather flabbergasted us, so we tried 
 a la carte, and managed to get away with some melon 
 (three shillings a throw), one little roast and a dessert 
 for about nine-and-six apiece. We didn't dine at the 
 Carlton again — that is, tout ensemble — for Eleanor 
 
• 67 • 
 Woodward gave Benny and Curt a luncheon one day 
 and Bill Prime 1911, did the same for Harry and 
 Benny (again). 
 
 Eleanor played quite an important role in our week 
 at London — Benny, Pete, and Curt were "Johnnies 
 on the spot," and the competition was keen. Curt's 
 just hanging on for no reason at all, Pete's throwing 
 a good bluff, and Benny's in love — that's Harry's di- 
 agnosis. Eleanor was deluged with flowers, invitations 
 to the theatre and to sight-see (even to shop at men*s 
 tailors), and rides in the park. The three suitors said 
 good-by to her Friday P.M., again at twelve after the 
 show that night, and two or three times more Satur- 
 day morning. Harry and I are now just about in the 
 third -row-standing -room top-gallery — if we stand 
 in that well, I very much doubt. I did help to take 
 her to tea one day with Pete, but as the credit all went 
 to him — I guess I bring up the rear with Harry. 
 
 I mentioned "shows," and I will state here that I 
 have reserved the best for the last. Our evenings were 
 much the more delightful part of our days. We started 
 off Saturday in negligee attire, with an evening at the 
 Alhambra, and enjoyed about as high-class vaudeville 
 as I have ever seen. Then Monday came the first of 
 three cracking-good musical shows: "The Balkan 
 Princess," "Our Miss Gibbs," and "The Girl in the 
 Train." Of the first we knew little, but in my opinion. 
 
• 68 • 
 it is the best of the lot. Being our introduaion to 
 London plays, it was a most fitting start. We sat down, 
 tired out firom our strenuous shopping; we lefi: the 
 theatre completely rejuvenated in spirit, having been 
 most pleasantly entertained. Not only was the music 
 tunefiil and pretty, but the lines were bright and 
 clever and the plot unusually complete and good, for 
 a comic opera. Florence Wray, as the Princess, was 
 charmingly dignified and stately, and the dancing of 
 the charwoman, to whom Harry took a particular 
 fancy, was fine. James Blakely and the other comedian- 
 aook proved to be two of the fimniest men I have 
 seen on the stage. The play was so clean and whole- 
 some, I can*t help but think that the stage would be 
 less decried for its influence if all musical comedies 
 attained this standard. Of course, the story had to be 
 romantic, and I felt all through that I was listening 
 to "Graustark,'* or the "Prisoner of Zenda." Some of 
 McCutcheon's trashy novels set to music on the stage 
 might not be so bad, afi:er all — for comic operas. 
 
 "Our Miss Gibbs," though likewise very tunefiil, 
 was practically made by the comedian Edmund Payne, 
 and by Gertie Millar, who sang and danced most de- 
 lightfiilly. Grossmith I do not care for. The play re- 
 sembled very closely the most popular type of Amer- 
 ican opera- thin plot — more or less vaudevilly in 
 character — but good stunts and some pretty songs. I 
 
• 69 • 
 
 might comment most favorably on Miss Millar's de- 
 lightful pronunciation of the word "Yorkshire/' It 
 was the best thing she did. 
 
 "The Girl in the Train" ("Divorced Wife," in Ger- 
 man), the hit of the London season, was very funny 
 (though Huntley Wright overdid his fun-making a 
 little), and the music was the best of the three. Three 
 of the waltzes it will be a pleasure to dance to next 
 winter. The plot is quite shady, but the show gets 
 away with it without much trouble. 
 
 The Russian dancers, Pavlowa and Modkin, with 
 ten others, were another fine thing we saw. I had seen 
 them twice before and still think them unsurpassable. 
 The last part of the program, in fact the last five aas, 
 were absolutely the best things in their line I have 
 ever seen: trained dogs; Bert Levy, cartoonist; Arthur 
 Prince, a ventriloquist, who doesn't bore; the dancers; 
 and colored motion pictures, which do not strain the 
 eyes in the slightest. 
 
 The Sherlock Holmes play, "The Speckled Band," 
 which we saw Thursday, was well done and gruesome 
 enough to send shivers up and down my spine. Miss 
 Katherine Silver is a star I should certainly go out of 
 my way to see again, largely for her personal attraction. 
 
 Each night after these shows we went some place 
 for refreshment, generally to either the Piccadilly grill, 
 or the Savoy. The latter is most interesting for the 
 
• 70 • 
 women who frequent it in all their "biirreled" and 
 "aviation" glory. I hate to think of having to see some 
 of those dresses in New York this winter. The custom 
 of turning out the lights at twelve- thirty and replacing 
 them by candles, cannot fail to strike an American as 
 just a little bit ridiculous. Tuesday night at the Picca- 
 dilly grill we had an adventure, which led to our 
 acquaintance with one of the English "actresses." It 
 was JoeSeligman, 1908, who made it possible, and he 
 asked the five of us, besides "Dummy" Logan, 
 "Skinny" Connell, and Fred Hotchkiss up to his 
 apartments for a little visit, where he likewise brought 
 the young lady in question. She is one of the octet 
 in "Our Miss Gibbs," (we saw her the next night) 
 that is on the stage a good part of the time, and ranks, 
 I guess, as kind of a higher chorus — at least the name 
 of Miss Chloe O'Hara appears on the program. She is 
 really very nice, has pretty features, with large eyes and 
 a wealth of beautiful auburn hair. She sings and plays 
 pretty well, and is most refined and really interesting 
 to talk to. Of course she smokes — oh! horrors! In 
 America she would play a very much more important 
 part. Thursday night, the party was repeated, and we 
 all had another nice chat with Joe and his friend. 
 While waiting for a taxi to take us there, Curt stole 
 away, and we were presently amused to find him 
 studying hard a sign reading: "Twenty Helps to Lon- 
 
• 71 • 
 don Taxicab Users." There are many who think Curt's 
 vocation was always intended to be an almanac. 
 
 That's about all I can think to write on London. 
 We got our first photographs printed, and they were 
 rotten! Curt has a knack of taking two good pictures 
 and snapping both on the same film. This he did five 
 times, if he did it once, and the others were poor. Our 
 photograph of Miss Woodward and Benny reveals 
 the latter only from his chin down. We had a nice 
 visit with "Jute,'* 79 — our last night at the Savoy. 
 Harry and his father visited Parliament the night be- 
 fore, as Mr. Coxe's guests — Mr. Charles Coxe, who 
 runs the A. G. Spalding store (beg pardon, Harry, I 
 mean stores) in England, is known to us all as "Uncle 
 Charlie." For six months we have heard how "Uncle 
 Charlie" would invite us to visit him for a week, in- 
 troduce us to all the high life, take us to Parliament, 
 you know, etc. And then only Thursday night Mr. 
 Curtiss and son went alone, with "Poppy Coxe," 
 Mama Coxe, and all the little Coxes. You simply 
 ought to meet him — "he's a wonder," says H.T.C. 
 We would like to, Harry. What's the use of one 
 member of the party having a friend if he can't do for 
 the rest. (We have been thanking Harry ever since 
 for our visit to Parliament.) Look what Mr. Gottschalk 
 did for us — I introduce his name simply to tell a story 
 on Harry in connection therewith: We were discussing 
 
• 72 • 
 one day, the peculiar name and his possible descent. 
 Some one said, "I think his father was a German." 
 "That's it," cried Harry, "Gottschaik — his father — 
 that must be where he got his name." 
 
73 
 
 En route to Coin and Frankfort, 
 Tuesday, August 2, 1910. 
 
 OSTEND made such an impression on us that, 
 now we have moved on, Harry and Pete have 
 been planning most of the time how they could get 
 back. I'm not saying the rest of us wouldn't like to, 
 either. The longer we stayed, the more at ease and 
 familiar we became with conditions such as we have 
 never experienced before. Another day and we would 
 be doing as the Romans do (?). It was an entirely dif- 
 ferent kind of time from any we have had so far, but 
 it was none the less enjoyable. Even the first incident 
 of our stay was out of the ordinary. 
 
 We arrived at the Hotel Splendide after many diffi- 
 culties but could get no accommodations : not, at least, 
 till the fantastically dressed Arab, a speaker of all lan- 
 guages, asked in broken English if we were from 
 Cook's. "No, indeed," I assured him, and his face 
 brightened perceptibly, and he said, " A-ah, then you 
 can get rooms." We could only get one, however, but 
 the proprietor offered to cut off part of the ladies' par- 
 lor for us, and he was promptly taken up. Not unlike 
 sleeping on the billiard table, is it? Here were any 
 
. 74 • 
 number of light silk-covered chairs, three or four 
 delicate sofas, as many mirrors, and only a six-foot- 
 high partition from the rest of the room, still open to 
 the public and to any whose curiosity might impel 
 them to look over — and I doubt if there are any who 
 would hesitate, in this country. 
 
 After a ftill-course dinner at 11 p.m. — of course 
 we could not go to bed — we joined "Dummy," 
 "Skinny," and Fred, who crossed on the same boat 
 with us and walked down the great ocean dike a 
 ways, then made for Maxim's, built on very much the 
 same idea as its Parisian ancestor. I never heard quite 
 so much noise before in one little small room. Inces- 
 sant music (not displeasing, however,) mixed with 
 loud conversation, apparently from every one present, 
 and constant screeches echoed back from head waiter 
 to first assistant, to second assistant, to little waiter, 
 etc. It was fun, though, and the gay whirl of dances, 
 maxixes, and other various effects — rather nice for 
 a change. We "crashed" a couple of bottles of cham- 
 pagne in payment for our table — and Bert Mc- 
 Cormick, '03, whom we met most unexpectedly, pre- 
 sented us with another in honor of the occasion's be- 
 ing his birthday. Harry didn't feel very well and went 
 home with Benny about 1 A.M., and all the rest of 
 us adjourned to the Cafe de Paris: on a much grander 
 scale and generally more elaborate. There was even 
 
• 75 • 
 more excitement there, which we enjoyed watching, 
 getting home at rather a late hour in the morning. I 
 almost got my nerve up to try a dance, but as not 
 more than four or five couples were dancing at one 
 time, I was afraid to risk my Boston with the Paris- 
 ienne in so conspicuous a place. Pete made his go the 
 next night, however, but I rather wish I had cleared 
 up the doubt for myself 
 
 We just got up in time Sunday for the bathing. 
 This was an absolute innovation for us — and it was 
 hard to reconcile ourselves to the women's custumes. 
 Don't think for a moment we allowed this to spoil 
 our swim — in fact, before long we were taking the 
 whole thing as a matter of course. I suppose the idea 
 of having one's bathing-cart pulled a few feet into the 
 water, for a slight remuneration, is so that there will 
 be as little embarassment as possible for the occupant 
 in her transition to the water? Bert and his two friends 
 joined us on the beach, and Pete and I in particular 
 had lots of fun playing around with them. After the 
 others had gone, we got hold of a good-looking 
 Dutch girl and had our pictures taken, the three of us 
 sitting on the back of a bathhouse. (Only a few se- 
 lected friends will be trusted with copies — Harry 
 pleads for one for his scrapbook — but I guess not.) 
 
 Pete stayed home in the afternoon while we all 
 went to the horse races — and mighty interesting they 
 
• 76 • 
 were, too ! I haven't seen any since Paris in '99, so 
 they also were quite new. It cost us twenty francs to 
 get in, but the fun was worth it. These French people 
 certainly know how to dress — even if I don't care 
 particularly for the aviation skirt, and we saw some 
 beauties, too. Harry and I got most of our fun by 
 forming a very effective betting-combination. We 
 pooled our bets (five francs each) and generally bet one 
 win and one or two places each race. We lost one 
 and one-half francs the first race, but won every time 
 after, though only enough to keep just ahead of the 
 game till the final coup. This was the big race of the 
 day, and I don't mind saying we doped it out like 
 true followers of the turf There were six starters with 
 "Milo" and "Galiax," equal favorites. A horse called 
 "Gond" was fourth in the betting — but, ah! we got 
 our heads together and cleverly discovered that 
 "Gond's" owner had won the first race of the day 
 (naturally he would keep his best horse for the big- 
 gest stake) and also we found on consulting our pro- 
 gram that "Locution," winner of the previous race, 
 had been sired by the same horse as "Gond." Hence 
 we backed "Gond" to win and "Milo" to place; also 
 "Milo" to win and "Gond" to place, so as to be on 
 the safe side. The horses placed "Gond" 1, "Milo" 
 2 — so three of the four bets were good; and we left 
 the course with expenses paid after a highly enjoyable 
 
• 77 • 
 afternoon. On the strength of our tip, Curt had tried 
 to place ten francs on "Gond." He would have won 
 eighty-five, but the bookmaker passed off another 
 "no" on him, and poor Curt was disconsolate. 
 
 That night, Benny, Curt, and I sat together for the 
 last two numbers of a concert in the tremendous au- 
 ditorium at the Kursaal, enjoying a selection from 
 "Faust" and a solo from "Traviata" immensely, as 
 both were rendered perfealy. While we returned to 
 bed, Pete, Harry, "Dummy," and "Skinny" made 
 another round of the cafes, disturbing us on their 
 return in the early morning. 
 
 We remained at Ostend long enough to get a great 
 swim in the morning (at which some more pictures 
 were taken) and then left: after lunch on a long ride to 
 The Hague. Ostend gave us all one of the best times 
 we have had. 
 
PART TWO 
 
 GLIMPSES OF GERMANY, VENICE, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE FAR EAST 
 
 AUGUST 1-22, 1910 
 
81 
 
 Frankfort to Nuremberg, 
 
 By Train, 
 
 Thursday, August 4, 1910. 
 
 IT it was on Monday, the first of August, that our 
 party bade good-by to Ostend. In the long after- 
 noon's trip to The Hague, we had a stop of two hours 
 at Antwerp, which we put in to good advantage in 
 seeing the old Dominican monastery at St. Paul's and 
 the large cathedral. In the latter are hung several great 
 pictures by Rubens; among them his masterpiece, 
 "The Descent from the Cross." The contrast between 
 the dead flesh and the living, as well as with the 
 white sheet against which the body lay was particularly 
 fine. There was also a head of Christ, by Leonardo da 
 Vinci, which did not impress me particularly with its 
 resemblance to the one in Milan — although the 
 work was very fine. 
 
 "We had so late a dinner at the Vieux Doelen, at 
 The Hague, that Pete, Harry, and I had only a little 
 time for a stroll about town, in the course of which 
 I purchased both a cigarette-holder and a large stein 
 ofMiinchen. 
 
 There is very little to say about Holland, I saw it 
 
• 82 • 
 all last year and was not particular about seeing it 
 again. We enjoyed the pretty ride out to Sheveningen 
 in anticipation of another swim, but half the pleasure 
 of the sea bath was taken away by our being confined 
 within certain definite limits, set apart solely for men. 
 The fact that our suits were perfectly respectable made 
 no difference. In fact, the whole place, pretty and 
 attractive as it was, suffered by contrast with Ostend, 
 and we returned to The Hague and after lunch 
 hurriedly saw the "House in the Woods" and a few of 
 the famous pictures in the gallery. We then changed 
 our plans, gave up Amsterdam and the Marken trip, 
 and took the train straight up to Cologne, hoping 
 thereby to gain a day in Munich. 
 
83 
 
 Pension Sulzer, Theresien Strasse, 
 
 Munich, Germany, 
 
 Sunday, August 7, 1910. 
 
 THIS isn't exactly where we had planned to stay 
 in Munich. On our arrival here night before last, 
 we went straight to the Continental, but even though 
 we had written for rooms five days ahead, "my per- 
 sonal friendship'* with the proprietor proved of no 
 avail. The house was full and they packed us off here 
 to a quiet little pension where we get our night's lodg- 
 ing and breakfast for only four marks (at the hotel a bed 
 alone cost ten) so altogether, we have much to be 
 thankfiil for. Our flying trip through Germany was 
 not so successful as our previous tours, although I must 
 admit that a magnificent finish turned a rout into a 
 victory. Cologne was the greatest obstacle in our path. 
 You will remember, I am sure, that sudden change 
 of plans and departure for Cologne. "Well, it was rather 
 a long journey — Bvc hours or so — but few of us real- 
 ized as we munched a sandwich at the border town of 
 Emmerich what trouble was to come. I remember J. 
 Curtis looking around for three bags we had found it 
 necessary to check. When we arrived at our destination 
 
• 84 • 
 they were not to be found.Curt admitted that he hadn't 
 seen them at the Customs. The problem was — how 
 to ^ct them? We finally telegraphed and waited over 
 the next day, in the course of which we made at least 
 seventeen different plans for getting to Nuremberg. 
 To make matters worse, the Hotel du Nord couldn't 
 put us up — neither could any other hotel, apparently, 
 and at eleven o'clock at night we got back to Bahnhof 
 and sat on our luggage, listening to all kinds of advice 
 from hotel porters — how there was plenty of room 
 at Dusseldorf, forty-five minutes back towards Hol- 
 land, etc. Finally, Harry and Curt appeared with glad 
 news, and you should have seen those bus drivers and 
 porters smile when they said they had rooms at the 
 Hof von Holland. Still, it was a hotel, and though we 
 viewed the rooms (sixteen marks for the crowd and 
 breakfast thrown in) with suspicion, the one v/aiter and 
 the one room maid lavished enough attention on 
 us to satisfy a duke — and we passed the night quite 
 comfortably. 
 
 "We did nothing in the morning but see the cathe- 
 dral. Harry made up his mind to be disappointed at 
 the first glance inside, and in Pete, who bears Cologne 
 a special grudge, found a companion after his own 
 heart, to enjoy the architectural beauty of the outside 
 from the verandah of a beer garden some distance re- 
 moved — while Benny, Curt, and I toiled up the five 
 
• 85 • 
 hundred and twenty-five steps almost to the top of 
 one of the great front spires. We got a splendid idea 
 of the minuteness of detail in the work both outside 
 and in the interior, which we saw as we passed along 
 the little cloister effect above the windows on either 
 side of the nave. Those fine front spires are hollowed 
 out above the point to which one can ascend. Likewise 
 the walls of the interior seem more like mere frame- 
 work than supports to the building, so many are the 
 windows which are cut through. In the beauty and the 
 number of the windows, the cathedral far surpasses the 
 English ones, while the exteriors cannot be mentioned 
 in the same breath. The contrast of plainness with or- 
 nateness is fairly typical of the racial temperaments of 
 the two countries. I like the organ placed in one of 
 the transepts, as it is in Cologne, rather than obstruct- 
 ing the view in the middle of the church, at the choir, 
 as it does in England. But I did not mean to devote so 
 much space to the Cologne Cathedral, which I have 
 seen before. 
 
 After lunch at the Du Nord, we assembled at 
 Cook's office to rediscuss plans. Curt came back at 
 five minutes to three and reported that the missing 
 bags were not found at the Custom House. He and 
 Harry then went off to the station, and ten minutes 
 later returned with them — still bound up and with 
 the German Imperial Seal intact. The official at the 
 
• 86 • 
 station had left the bags a minute, and taking advan- 
 tage of an error he made in letting them have them 
 at all, our "heroes" had literally "pinched" them. 
 How's that for slipping one over on the German gov- 
 ernment? We couldn't have had them inside of two 
 hours otherwise. We now made a mad dash for the 
 three-thirty train for Frankfort. While I got the tickets 
 at Cook's the others rushed to the Hof von Holland 
 and hurriedly packed. We had but twenty minutes, you 
 see; and, in fact, when we all united at the station 
 only two of these were left. The porters went back 
 on us and insisted that some of our baggage ought 
 to be registered. We had no time for that, so pitched 
 in ourselves and hauled our nine heavy bags to the 
 train, which started as soon as we got on. Harry and 
 Curt were afraid the government officials would catch 
 them and the bags they had "swiped"; but all danger 
 was past now and we (?) wiped our brows in the 
 corridor — for, of course, we could get no seats. In 
 due time we were settled, however, tho' separated, 
 and the beautiful old castles along the Rhine made 
 us forget everything that Cologne had done to us. 
 
 It was almost 8 P.M. when we reached Frankfort, 
 and this time we purposely put up at a cheap hotel near 
 the station. We then boarded one of those clean-look- 
 ing and smooth-running trolleys they have over here, 
 for the Palme Garten. Here we found ourselves in one 
 
• 87 • 
 of those beer gardens of which we have always heard, 
 and we Were soon eating a most delicious "garnished " 
 steak and listening to a fine band concert at the same 
 time. I say "fine" because everything was striking us 
 right and we were "feeling fine," though the band, as 
 a matter of fact, was poor. 
 
88 
 
 En route to Oberammergau, 
 Tuesday, August 9, 1910. 
 
 THE surroundings, however, were well nigh per- 
 fect. Our table was situated on a pretty terrace, 
 at about the same level as the band stand, around 
 which were laid out most picturesque gardens. In the 
 very centre of the indoor restaurant was a palm garden, 
 which for density, elaboration, and fragrancy of foliage 
 I have never seen equaled. An evening in such an at- 
 mosphere could scarcely help being successful, and we 
 cut it short in time to get a good sleep, too. 
 
89 
 
 En route to Venice, 
 Thursday, August 11, 1910. 
 
 THE train for Oberammergau was not very prac- 
 ticable for writing purposes, though I do not 
 know whether the route from Verona to Venice will 
 prove much better. Of late the only chances I have 
 had to write have been on trains. 
 
 I think I have said enough about Frankfort-on-the 
 Main to warrant my passing on to some very interest- 
 ing days — those we spent in the old towns of Nurem- 
 berg and Rothenberg. 
 
 We made an unprecedented early start (this was 
 Thursday, August fourth^ rising at 6 A.M. to get the 
 only morning train for Nuremberg, whither we ar- 
 rived about twelve. We made straight for the Grand 
 Hotel, as Benny had to see a picture of "old man 
 Steve's" silver- wedding party that was hanging on 
 one of the walls. It wasn't a bad hotel at that; and as 
 the proprietor, at least, made a good pretense of being 
 interested in "Steve's" son, we took our luncheon 
 there. Meanwhile, Harry and I had craftily bid down 
 a taxicab driver through an interpreter to eighty marks, 
 to take us out to Rothenberg and back, the next day. 
 
• 90 • 
 That wasn't bad, considering the regular price is one 
 hundred twenty-five marks! We didn't start, however, 
 till three in the afternoon, so Benny, Pete, and I had a 
 chance for a little stroll afi:er lunch. We made first for 
 a very interesting old church, quite different from 
 anything we had seen before, and likewise sufficient 
 to send Pete home on the double-quick. (Pardon my 
 referring so familiarly to the hotel as to call it home, 
 but it was quite inadvertent.) Pete consequently didn't 
 see very much of the town — he says he couldn't see 
 very much to it. Probably his line of vision did not 
 rise above the shop windows, for one had only to 
 look for it to find something of interest: perhaps a 
 large house with a gable long and high enough to 
 cover four stories; maybe a quaint statue of the Virgin 
 Mary set in a niche at the corner; or else there would 
 be a house painted all over in strange designs or pic- 
 tures, even imaginary blinds being put on, in some 
 cases. The trouble is, particularly on the main streets, 
 that so much of the modern age is mixed with the 
 bygone, that one must look closely or he will be apt 
 not to notice the picturesque at all. Modern shops, 
 trolleys, taxis, etc., do not reflect a particularly medie- 
 val atmosphere. 
 
 But we were soon to see a town that is permeated 
 with just that — a medieval atmosphere. The ride to 
 Rothenberg was a very fitting prelude. Though we 
 
. 91 • 
 rumbled and roared along much of the time like a 
 Fifth Avenue bus, our disreputable-looking Clement 
 taxi, under the cautiously daring guidance of a Ger- 
 man chauffeur, often hit fifty miles an hour, and in 
 the matter of mere speed, quite put Robert's Napier 
 to shame. That little glimpse of German country was 
 indeed interesting. The fields aren't partitioned off as 
 they are in England and seem larger to the portion. 
 At the same time, occasional patches of trees relieved 
 the monotony very nicely, while numerous thick 
 woods were at once pretty and refreshing, as we 
 dashed through. There is practically no underbrush 
 at all, and the trees are trimmed of foliage to a height 
 of fifteen to thirty feet — to prevent fires, I presume 
 — though the effea is unusual and not unpleasant. 
 We likewise passed through neat clean-looking little 
 towns, at one of which we stopped to see an old Ro- 
 man church — but I shall confine myself merely to 
 Rothenberg, which far surpasses any town that I have 
 ever seen. I feel sometimes as if everything I write 
 must sound rather exaggerated, as if each thing or 
 city we saw was the "best ever"; but let me state em- 
 phatically, that Rothenberg cannot be described with 
 exaggeration. Far be it ftom me to attempt to give any 
 one an adequate idea of its simple grandeur. One feels, 
 as he walks the streets, that he is in another age and half 
 expects to meet knights in armour coming from one 
 
• 92 • 
 of the old residences. The atmosphere of an age long 
 past lingers in every nook; in the old wall, still in per- 
 fect condition and completely surrounding the town; 
 in the old towers and battlements; in the curiously 
 curving streets; in the houses themselves, with their 
 red gable roofs standing out in contrast to the cleanli- 
 ness of the white plaster! Then every window has its 
 flower box — the people take pride in helping in the 
 picturesqueness of their city — a pride which is kept 
 from waning by competitions for growing the prettiest 
 flowers. Likewise, every new house is constructed in 
 the same old architecture, so that the little city is al- 
 ways a unified whole. 
 
 We had plain, though clean, rooms, on the top 
 floor of one of the small hotels — the Eisenhut, I 
 think — and enjoyed a delicious dinner on the little 
 shielded terrace in the street. We partook, too, of 
 some Rothenberg wine for a few pfennigs a glass. 
 The color was almost a pure golden, and it looked 
 too good to drink — but it was not. After this meal 
 I strolled around the old streets with Benny (the 
 others had gone off together a few minutes before 
 we started), and as we slowly picked our way along 
 the old wall, or looked in fascinating shop windows, 
 we drew in many long breathfiils of Rothenberg. 
 Just after the sun had set we came to another side of 
 the town, where, just below the wall, the ground 
 
. 93 • 
 sloped rapidly down five or six hundred feet to the 
 bottom of the little valley, down which flows the 
 river Tauber. Rothenberg is situated at the top of one 
 of the sides. As we stood silent on the terrace and 
 watched the light slowly fade on the town roofs and 
 towers, on the hills and distant farms, on the little 
 stream flowing between artistically placed lines of 
 poplars (words fail to describe the picture), I like to 
 think, but hesitate to write, of the thoughts that flashed 
 across our minds. Here was another experience, even 
 as that at Dove Cottage, that will remain indelibly 
 stamped on our memories. There are times when the 
 spirit responds to an uplifting call, when, I mean, 
 one's whole nature is tuned to its surroundings, and 
 one is lifted out of oneself, as it were. This was one 
 of those times, and the less you said about them the 
 better. You cannot possibly forget, anyway — you can- 
 not make another see it through your eyes — and the 
 memory of it is sacred to you alone. 
 
 Have I said enough to convince you that Rothen- 
 berg is worth while — one of the most interesting 
 spots in fact on God's earth? If so, I am satisfied. 
 
 We awoke refreshed in the morning and in time 
 to take an hour and a half s walk around with Miss 
 Kraemmer, an interesting native of the town who 
 speaks fluent English. While we inspected dungeons 
 and towers and saw that interesting old doorway 
 
. 94 • 
 with its decorated- work, and lantern still hung from 
 its iron crane, as it was centuries ago — the most in- 
 teresting, perhaps, was the Rathaus, with its historical 
 pictures of the town's traditions and experiences, for 
 there was Till's monstrous tankard of wine, the 
 quaffing of which, in one draught, was once the cause 
 of the town's existence to-day! 
 
 Ten-thirty came: We bought some good prints 
 to remind us of an experience bound to be unique in 
 the annals of our trip and tore back to Nuremberg 
 in time for another lunch at the Grand. Harry wasn't 
 feeling well — hadn't been, all day — so lay down on 
 a sofa, whilst Pete kept him company writing letters. 
 This was for the three hours before our train left for 
 Munich. Harry seemed to have as little interest in Nu- 
 remberg as he had great inRothenberg,andPete shared 
 his feelings, to a certain extent. For myself, it is in- 
 conceivable that one should love Rothenberg and 
 not care a rap for Nuremberg. There is certainly much 
 in the latter to interest the lay traveler. At least, Curt, 
 Benny, and I had a wonderful afternoon. In the mu- 
 seum, which we merely scanned, were some fine orig- 
 inal Durers, but the grand castle on the hill with its 
 Eisen Jungfrau and Chamber of Horrors, and the 
 house where Albrecht Diirer lived, were especially 
 good. In the latter were exhibited all his famous 
 woodcuts and etchings, and it gives me great pleasure 
 
• 95 • 
 to state that for the price of only twelve marks I be- 
 came the possessor of an original Diirer — that is, a 
 colored sketch made from the original block that the 
 artist cut. After our purchases, for each of us bought 
 one, we adjourned to a little bit of a beerhouse and 
 cafe that has been standing for over four hundred 
 years, and where we were most deliciously refreshed 
 with fine cut sausages and beer. I wonder if the ones 
 Diirer used to eat at the same house were just as good! 
 At five-thirty our party was once more together 
 and dined both pleasantly and cheaply on the way to 
 Munich, that is, after a party of forty-nine Americans 
 had finished in the dining-car. They were the worst 
 type, too! You simply can't help being ashamed of 
 your countrymen sometimes, can you? No wonder 
 the Germans call us "pigs." Having seen the forty- 
 nine, no doubt the huffy old German in the compart- 
 ment where we managed to find three seats, was pre- 
 pared to place all other Americans in the same cate- 
 gory. That includes us. My! didn't he kick up a row 
 when we finally got four of our nine bags over his 
 head, with seven more opposite him. His wild gestic- 
 ulations didn't faze us a bit; so what did the old 
 " stinker" do but go off and get a guard, with the re- 
 sult that, after violent protestations on our part, one 
 of Pete's and one of my bags were taken off to the 
 baggage car — all of which cost us some more marks 
 
• 96 • 
 and an hour's delay when we reached Munich, at about 
 8:30 P.M. 
 
 More trouble ahead! I failed to make good on my 
 hotel — the Grand Continental. They had no rooms 
 for us till morning, and then the minimum would be 
 ten marks per. No, thank you! So we took advantage 
 of their plush automobile bus and finally ended up at 
 the pension of Herr Arnold Suher, 78 Theresien 
 Strasse (if you know where that is), and as a matter of 
 fact, were decidedly better off, with nice rooms, at a 
 rate of only four marks apiece, including breakfast. 
 The only drawback in fact, was Frau Sulzer, whose 
 general sloppiness of appearance was not — well, 
 appetizing. 
 
97 
 
 Grand Hotel, Venice, 
 
 Friday, August 12, 1910. 
 
 Munich, August 5-9. 
 
 IT hardly seems credible that one could spend as 
 much as four days in a city like Munich and not 
 see anything more than two art galleries and a museum 
 of mechanical inventions, does it? That is, in the 
 sight-seeing line, of course. In view of this statement, 
 it at least sounds paradoxical to add that we not only 
 did that, but four more profitable days in a large city 
 we could not possibly have spent. That is something 
 of an enigma, yet the conclusion is perfectly clear and 
 a fair judgment, in my mind. It is not the fact that we 
 saw little that is generally "done" that stamps the 
 visit as a partial failure, but rather, the fact that we got 
 a splendid insight into German life and customs, that 
 makes it stand out as a complete success. In other 
 words, we spent our time quite differently and even 
 more pleasantly than we have in other cities, though 
 to be frank, it was due rather to some fortunate circum- 
 stances that were not exactly pre-arranged. This bit of 
 luck which befell us did not come until Sunday. 
 Saturday, our first day, we were dependent on our 
 
• 98 • 
 own resources. We slept ourselves out and got a much 
 needed rest — which means a late rising. Then, after 
 necessary shopping, we had a delicious lunch at the 
 Hotel Continental, after which, Curt, Pete, and I 
 visited the Neue Pinakathek. The hour or so devoted 
 to that was not enough to be tiring, and we enjoyed 
 the pictures of the more modern school immensely. 
 Some of those by Stuck were of a fascinating nature, 
 tho' the subjects were most harrowing and gruesome 
 - — particularly that of the "Lady and the Snake" — 
 one that I should not care to see often for fear of 
 disturbing peaceful sleeps. Two pictures, of which I 
 purchased colored prints, were really wonderful: one, 
 a cunning little Dutch girl, by Hoecke; the other, an 
 inspiring picture representing the legend of St. Hu- 
 bert and the stag, on whose forehead stands a fiery 
 cross. 
 
 Letter- writing consumed the remainder of the af- 
 ternoon, and at about six-thirty we made for the Hof- 
 braiihaus in hopes of making a supper there. The 
 sight of hundreds of Germans "lapping-up" beer in 
 that huge beerhouse was interesting, though the smell 
 and looks of the place were not conducive to enjoying 
 a meal; so we went on to the Lowenbraii-Keller, 
 where we had planned to listen to a band concert in 
 the evening. 
 
 For only a few pfennigs we procured admission 
 
• 99 • 
 
 and obtained a comfortable table, where we had re- 
 course to a "garnished" steak (a dish with which we 
 had already made acquaintance) and to a liter of beer 
 apiece. Before we had finished (with the steak, I mean) 
 the beer hall was well filled with Germans, and the 
 concert started. We finished the liter, too, in due time, 
 and ordered another; and two was about all we could 
 go in the course of the evening. A single liter, you 
 know, corresponds to about six glasses of American 
 beer. Can you imagine Benny Clement tucking twelve 
 glasses of beer under his belt — the thought is amus- 
 ing, isn't it — for the fixture secretary of Dwight Hall? 
 But there are four good witnesses, believe me, to this 
 achievement. I do not mean to boast about these two 
 liters, for our German neighbors put down at least 
 six, out-drinking us three to one, though just how they 
 can do it, and get away with it, is still a marvel to me. 
 In addition, we had a couple of rounds of pretzels — 
 real pretzels, these were — the kind that make your 
 mouth water and cry for more. Our good-natured and 
 jovial Kelleren amused herself to her heart's content by 
 every now and then slamming down the lids of our 
 steins, when we v/ere so careless as to leave them open. 
 If you were in a party of natives, and it happened that 
 you left your stein open, you would have to pay for as 
 many beers as steins could be piled high on top of 
 yours. That band concert, too, was a corker, with a fine 
 
•100- 
 selection of marches, waltzes, and operas: one of the 
 last a selection from "Der Fidele Bauer," with which 
 we were glad to be familiar on the following evening. 
 It was one of the best bands I ever heard, and the sim- 
 ple motions of its leader were no less impressive than 
 the music. We walked home, happy in spirit and song 
 (the latter interrupted occasionally by sprinkles of dirt 
 from annoyed residents above), after a very enjoyable 
 evening. We didn't make so much noise, after all, 
 though I suppose it was rather fresh of a party of five 
 young Americans to open their mouths at all. 
 
 Benny and I made an unsuccessful attempt to find 
 the American church the next morning, but failing, 
 joined the crowd that was gathering opposite the royal 
 residence to see the changing of the guard at noon. 
 Harry and Pete joined us presently — minus Curt — 
 who had got off the tram three or four blocks back, 
 knowingthcy were going the wrong way. Ten minutes 
 later. Curt appeared, driving along all alone. He has 
 been in disfavor ever since as a guide. That same night, 
 on our return late, he took me with him on a positive 
 assurance that he knew the way. That was one of the 
 biggest mistakes I have made this trip: trusting to J.C. 
 P's knowledge of a foreign city. We went in the oppo- 
 site direction from our pension, and when we finally 
 arrived, found the others waiting for me to bring the 
 key — the only consolation I had. You see, as in Lon- 
 
•101- 
 don, the first thing Curt did was to buy a map of the 
 city (in fact, he has already done the same thing here 
 in Venice, where I am writing), but, as I have said, his 
 reputation is now even worse than nothing, and no 
 one pays attention any more to Curt's ideas on direc- 
 tion. His sly and noiseless departures from the party 
 ipse solus, continue nevertheless. Particularly are 
 these apt to come with the dessert at dinner. Last night 
 he stayed till the end and received congratulations 
 from us all. 
 
 But we were waiting for the guard to change, 
 weren't we? It wasn't much: a procession of ten or 
 twelve soldiers behind a large band which gave a con- 
 cert in the square after the guards got thro ' exchanging 
 a few "goose-step" maneuvers. As we were listening 
 to the music, we ran into Bud Smith, Harvard '12, and 
 Cyrus McCormick, Princeton '12, and a minute later 
 into Professor Eddie Reed and his wife. This last was 
 the piece of luck I referred to, for it was through them 
 that we met Mr. Boltwood (newly appointed fiiU Uni- 
 versity Professor in Radiology, at Yale) who did so 
 much to make Munich pleasant for us. It is one of the 
 most beautifiil cities I have ever seen, anyway, in its 
 magnificently decorated buildings and squares; but he 
 certainly did much for us to make it appeal in every 
 way. That afternoon about three, Curt and I had settled 
 down for two or three hours of writing, when Benny 
 
^ 102- 
 came back from coffee with the Reeds and brought 
 Mr. Boltwood with him. I was sore at the time at the 
 inconvenient interruption, but the ensuing three-hour 
 talk made the whole afternoon of great practical value. 
 Mr. Boltwood is as good as a native in Germany, hav- 
 ing lived in Munich two or three years; and what he 
 didn't tell us about Germany: her people and their cus- 
 toms; the government; Bavaria: her king and regent; 
 the international political situation and the contrast 
 between English and German life, etc., etc., is not 
 worth chronicling. I could fill many pages with the in- 
 teresting information he imparted to us in the course 
 of our conversation. He has a power of conversation 
 most pleasant and a nicety of expression, coupled with 
 a keen humour, that help make him the entertaining 
 person he is. 
 
 With him we visited several German haunts and 
 partook of dishes more appetizing than I could dream 
 existed. All of these hours we were learning lots, so 
 that in two days we knew the Germans very nearly as 
 well — indirectly, of course — as we did the English 
 in three weeks. At supper, at the Hof-theater that 
 night, we were served with liver and bacon on silver 
 spits, fit for an Epicurean king, so tender it was. Then 
 after the show we joined this Faculty good fellow 
 again. 
 
103 
 
 On Board S. S. Pannonia, 
 
 En route Fiume to Cattaro, 
 
 Sunday, August 14, 1910. 
 
 (The above dating suggests something strangely 
 new and unexpected, but as I am anxious to get to it, 
 I will hurry on.) 
 
 A FTER some beer and sandwiches at the Odeon, 
 J[j^ ^^ were in hopes of returning to our pension, 
 but our guide had something up his sleeve and was so 
 entertaining that we followed him like lambs to the 
 Rathskeller, or beer garden, under the City Hall. Ever 
 have a**peach bowler "PWell, that's what we got there, 
 and in the line of beverages it is quite unique: Three 
 bottles of Riidesheimer, sweetest of Rhine wine; two 
 more of cheap champagne; a dozen or so sliced 
 peaches; the whole mixed with a half-plate of sugar 
 in a huge bowler or pail encased in ice — -and there 
 you are! It is very mild and quite delicious. With this 
 as the center of attraction, we sat and talked two or 
 three hours, finally climbing into bed about 2 A.M. 
 Pretty good sport, this Yale Professor, eh? 
 
 Next morning at ten-thirty, we met him at another 
 little restaurant, where, until noon, white sausages are 
 
• 104 • 
 a specialty. The average German rises early — six-thirty 
 or seven — takes a dry roll and cup of coffee for break- 
 fast, to which he adds, in the middle of the morning, an 
 order of sausages and his first beer of the day. And they 
 are not any American or English sausages, either. 
 Rolled out of their white skins and dipped in a special 
 mixture of mustard, they are quite as delicious as any- 
 thing I ever ate. So impressed was I, in fact, that I 
 called for the Van Sinderen brothers the next morn- 
 ing on their return from Oberammergau and treated 
 them to another round of these weiss wurtsel I do 
 not mean to give the impression that Mr. Boltwood 
 is only an Epicurean of the first order. Our visits with 
 him, while confined to eating-establishments, were, 
 nevertheless, as I have intimated, most profitable from 
 our standpoint, both for the actual insight into Ger- 
 man life and customs, and also for the knowledge 
 gained indirectly from our valuable friend. The last we 
 saw of him was at a lunch the Reeds were kind enough 
 to give for us- on Monday, at Schleich's. Mrs. Reed's 
 sisters, the Misses Thompson, were there, as was also 
 another Yale professor. I had a most interesting talk 
 with "Eddie" Reed during lunch, wherein my ideas 
 of the English colleges were straightened out consid- 
 erably. Both he and his wife are wonders. I must see 
 them often when I return to New Haven next year. 
 There is little more to say of Munich. I enjoyed an 
 
• 105- 
 hour in the " Alte Pinakothek" with Merrell and saw 
 a favorite picture of mine: one of the "Holy Family," 
 by Andrea del Sarto; and also an hour with Pete in the 
 mechanical part of the great museum. Every conceiva- 
 ble electrical, astronomical, and mechanical apparatus 
 was exhibited there most completely, and one had only 
 to pull a wire to work experiments for oneself It was 
 rather odd to see the skeleton of my own hand by 
 means of the X-ray. Many of the mechanical instru- 
 ments I had had fully explained to me in ShefFlast fall, 
 by Mr. J. W. Roe (whom by the way, I met in West- 
 minster Abbey), and I was amused to find them quite 
 as unintelligible to me now as before taking that un- 
 fortunate course. 
 
 We sawtwo shows in Munich — the music of both 
 by Leo Fall: "Der Fidele Bauer"; or, "The Jolly Far- 
 mer," a new one, was most tuneful in spots and en- 
 joyable in spite of the German we could not under- 
 stand, and of the fact that we saw it Sunday evening. 
 Curt said he was glad they "laughed in English, any- 
 way," which I think is quite as good as his remark at 
 Ostend that "all the world is not like Scranton." 
 
 The "Dollar Princess," Monday night, needs no 
 comment. It was quite well done, considering it was a 
 stock company, although the German idea of a dance 
 seems to be a walk around the stage once, hand-in- 
 hand; and in that particular it was most deficient. 
 
106- 
 
 The Passion Play at Oberammergau, 
 Wednesday, August 10. 
 
 CURT and I left Munich for the scene of the Passion 
 Play at three-twelve the previous afternoon. The 
 others started half an hour or twenty minutes later and 
 got in an hour and a half after we did. On reaching the 
 station, courier Benny found that there was no third- 
 class, by which we had planned to economize, on the 
 three-twelve. Some petty squabbling resulted inCurt's 
 and my changing to second; and a single look at the 
 hard wooden seats of the "steerage" compartments 
 convinced us that we were wise men. Suffice it to say, 
 that we all came back second-class. 
 
 The last hour of the journey was an enjoyable scenic 
 ride part way up into the Bavarian Tyrol. On our ar- 
 rival, we were escorted by a long-haired urchin to our 
 quarters in the pension of Herr Ludwig Wolf. The 
 long hair, the Tyrolean breeches and gaiters (enclos- 
 ing only the calf) of these peasant people, add to the 
 picturesque appearance of this little mountain village, 
 dressed up in its gayest colors and new paint for the 
 thousands of strangers that visit it weekly. I am told 
 that the long hair is grown purposely before each Play, 
 
• 107 . 
 as no wigs are used in the performance. Curt and I took 
 an interesting walk around through the various streets, 
 looking at the photographs, as well as the wares of the 
 actors, and when a slight shower drove him back,I con- 
 tinued to the house of Anton Lang, potter, who plays 
 the Christ. There he was, busy and unconcerned, 
 behind a counter of pottery wares, interrupted every 
 minute or two by requests for his signature, which he 
 graciously gave; and I, too, joined the crowd of pester- 
 ers. He has a magnificent, strong and kindly face — 
 one that cannot help but satisfy in the part of Christ, 
 and the hair almost to his shoulders makes a fine set- 
 ting for it. 
 
 After an uncomfortable night's sleep, for me, we 
 were waked at seven for the performance, which starts 
 promptly at eight. A drizzle from a dark sky that 
 threatened more was discouraging, though it turned 
 out not to affect it in the least. By noon it stopped, any- 
 way. That huge amphitheater, seating four or five 
 thousand people, and the open-air stage with the cen- 
 ter scene, the two streets and the houses of Annas and 
 Pilate on either side, is most impressive. 
 
 Of the Play itself, I do not feel like saying much. It 
 did not jar one religiously a bit, as, for instance, "The 
 Servant in the House " did many; nor indeed do I see 
 how it could, it was all so simply, so earnestly given. 
 So natural was it all, that one felt at times that he was 
 
•108- 
 actually a witness of the Lord's trials and crucifixion. 
 The scenes where Jesus bade good-by to his family at 
 Bethlehem, and where he staggered and fell under his 
 cross on the way to Golgotha, could bring tears to the 
 eyes of the strongest man — make them run down his 
 cheeks — while the crucifixion itself is wonderfiilly 
 realistic. That, and the Last Supper, I thought most 
 impressive. On the whole, I enjoyed the morning 
 scenes better, not only because I was fresh, but also 
 because they give the intimate and interesting side of 
 Christ's relationship with his disciples, while the many 
 scenes before Caiaphas, Annas, Herod, and Pilate are 
 a little tiring in their monotony, especially when one 
 cannot understand the language. I followed along 
 very well though, with the aid of an excellent transla- 
 tion. 
 
 The choruses between the seventeen or eighteen 
 acts are not rich in music, but are a stage necessity, 
 of course, and I was glad always to have the five or 
 ten minutes to read ahead. The Old Testament tab- 
 leaux, which likewise preceded every act, were quite 
 remarkable and excellently done. 
 
 That's all I really care to say. Besides Anton Lang, 
 Judas, Herod, and the Virgin Mary acted their parts 
 wonderfiilly, I thought. But the whole performance, 
 to my mind, is a decidedly personal experience. It af- 
 fected me more than anything I have ever seen. When 
 
• 109- 
 one considers that one little mountain village produces 
 such a magnificent play on so grand a scale, the Pas- 
 sion Play of Oberammergau is indeed a marvel. 
 
 VENICE 
 
 I feel on familiar ground when I come to Venice, 
 having spent the best part of a week there last year. I 
 do not feel, therefore, like writing with the same 
 emotional wonderment as the other members of the 
 party, although it was just as wonderful to me as ever. 
 
 We came down by train Wednesday evening, after 
 the Passion Play, and awoke from our sleeper berths 
 sufficiently early to see part of the Dolomites in the 
 Austrian Tyrol. When we got to Verona about 10 
 A.M., Harry, Pete, and I decided to wait over an hour 
 in order to see some of that city, which I had been 
 told, and can now add myself, is very interesting. We 
 had time only for the old Roman amphitheatre or 
 arena, but even that was most worth while. The ex- 
 terior and top walls of arches were partially destroyed 
 by earthquake in 1180, but the interior is still per- 
 fectly preserved. The whole structure was most im- 
 pressive, and it was not hard to imagine the gladia- 
 torial combats and struggles of man and beast that 
 took place therein of old. The only discomforts we 
 experienced in staying over were some rotten coffee 
 
• 110- 
 in the station and a slow and dirty train to Venice. We 
 didn't arrive till nearly 3 P.M. After a picked-up lunch, 
 we made straight for the Lido, and that first swim in 
 the warm Adriatic put a nice touch on a tiresome day. 
 It was late when we came in from the Lido, but a good 
 wash and a welcome change from knickerbockers to 
 citizens' clothes could not be neglected; and we just 
 escaped an extra charge for being late to dinner — a 
 custom, I think, peculiar to the Grand Hotel. 
 
 How nice it was to lie back again in one of those 
 most graceful and fascinating of boats, the gondola, 
 and listen, on a calm, cool night to the serenades on 
 the water. "Santa Lucia," "L'Addio aNapoli,""Sole 
 Mio," and other old favourites came in quick succes- 
 sion, and I was happy — yes, very happy! 
 
 If you want perfect peace and rest, go to Venice! 
 No one hurries there — you can't hurry — it takes 
 time to move from place to place, and, if you enter 
 into the spirit of the place, you go as slowly and as 
 comfortably as you can. At least we did, and for two 
 days not a bit of sight-seeing did I do — save a twenty- 
 minute look around old St. Mark's, if you can call 
 that sight-seeing. What a great old church it is, with 
 its sunken wave-like floor and rich mosaics. I must 
 brush up on my Ruskin when I get home, and see if I 
 can't like the gentleman better — for he loved Venice, 
 and so do I; and Venice, through his eyes, would add 
 to my interest in it. 
 
•Ill- 
 
 It was the Lido again Friday and yesterday after- 
 noons, and some more great swims and sun baths. 
 What a real pleasure it is to lie flat on a beach and let 
 the sun's rays sink warm into your skin! At least it is 
 to me. A band concert in the Piazza di San Marco, Fri- 
 day night, followed by an hour of serenading; a two- 
 hour loaf in a gondola, Saturday morning with Pete, 
 and you just about have my stay in Venice. There I 
 was Saturday morning — flying around all stirred up 
 over this coming trip with Harry — and after five min- 
 utes' gentle tossing on the Grand Canal, I was at 
 peace and in harmony with the world. That's what 
 Venice can do for one, if one gives her a chance. We 
 went all the way to the station, then wound our way 
 back, after a hasty inspection of the smelly Ghetto, 
 through divers little canals, to the hotel. 
 
 Yesterday was my twenty-second birthday. I got 
 two awfiilly nice letters from Mother and Frances, 
 but otherwise I can't say that it was any different from 
 any other day, nor that I felt particularly old. Twenty- 
 two hasn't quite the same significance as twenty-one. 
 I mention it only for this: that before leaving, we 
 opened (thanks to Mother's generosity!) two bottles 
 of Italian champagne in celebration of it. Then Harry 
 and I bade good-by to the others and rode in a gon- 
 dola out to the steamer for Fiume. All that, however, 
 is another chapter, and I think I shall postpone it till 
 
•112- 
 morning, as I have already written a good deal to-day. 
 I don't feel so bad about separating the party, now 
 that there are four left behind. Lawrason Riggs arrived 
 yesterday noon. I hate to run the minute he joins us, 
 but am glad Harry and I are to be with him three or 
 four weeks on our return from this wild excursion of 
 ours. We are approaching the town of Zara, so I 
 must stop. 
 
•113 
 
 S. S. Pannonia, 
 En route to Cattaro, 
 Monday, August 15. 
 
 I HAVE just about time before our ship arrives at her 
 destination, to bring my record up to date. The en- 
 suing week is to be a narrative only of what Harry and 
 I have been doing, for we have left the others tempo- 
 rarily. It all came from, a long argument we had over 
 the advisability of all of us taking in the Dalmatian 
 trip. A letter from my aunt proved to me it would be 
 well worth while, although we would not take it quite 
 the same way. As a matter of fact, Harry and I have 
 always been keen about it, ever since we heard it all 
 described so glowingly one time last winter by Len 
 Kennedy, '09. Pete was not enthusiastic, nor was Mer- 
 rell at first, as he was weighing the more practical side, 
 though I think he, too, was fairly keen for it. Curt cer- 
 tainly was, but generously kept silence to prevent a big 
 split, and both he and Merrell later gave up all thought 
 of the trip and insisted on Harry and my going to- 
 gether. Lawrason, too, arrived, and, of course, it isn't 
 quite in his line. So it was settled. Saturday morning, 
 Harry and I bought our tickets and made what arrange- 
 
.114. 
 ments we could, though little indeed they were, for no 
 one seemed to know anything about the main place we 
 wanted to see — Scutari in Albania — where Len went. 
 We tried Mr. Wood, the American Consul at Venice, 
 but he could do little for us, though his cordiality and 
 interest impressed us most favorably with the Ameri- 
 can consular service. The trouble was, we had no pass- 
 ports, which are necessary in that region ; but we deter- 
 mined, nevertheless, to take a chance, and possibly the 
 Consul at Fiume could help us. An5rway, we had an 
 alternative trip in mind toMostar, the capital of Herze- 
 govina, should this fall through. 
 
 Then we went out and bought an outj&t: two olive- 
 green suits of a light linen material that bids fair to 
 part on the slightest provocation; (they cost 10 and 
 1% lira apiece, if you please,) two canvas hats at 1.50 
 lira; and a pack to hold our travelling-equipment; toi- 
 let articles; an extra shirt and a pair of socks; a light 
 sweater; and a diary for each of us. Not so darned 
 heavy, is it7 Then all our extra cash I carried in a money 
 belt. But we were a sight in those suits though; and I 
 was almost ashamed to eat my dinner at the Grand 
 Hotel. 
 
 The fellows gave us a glad and hearty send-off, 
 though I must own to feeling mighty sorry to leave 
 them for a week. They are a great bunch. You get 
 pretty well attached to fellows like old Benny, Curt. 
 
•115- 
 and Peter after five or six weeks of close association; 
 and Lawrie, too, who had just come — it was a shame 
 to leave! 
 
 We boarded the old boat, put our pack in the small 
 stateroom, went on deck and coiled ourselves up on a 
 rope in the bow. "We had a great talk that night — 
 Harry and I did — as we watched the lights of Venice 
 fade slowly into the horizon, though the growing 
 moon let her light stream down on the peaceful sea, 
 even after we had turned in. The stateroom wasn't so 
 bad, but my Lord! our neighbors — how they did talk! 
 There must have been a family of at least jfive next 
 door, and in the small confined saloon outside, a party 
 of men were "bickering'* away at a great rate. At least 
 four corks popped before I fell asleep. 
 
116 
 
 S. S. Antivari, 
 
 En route Rjeka to Scutari, 
 
 Tuesday, August 16, 1910. 
 
 SOME few minutes after six the next morning, we 
 were awakened by our steamer's docking at Fl- 
 ume although, to say the least, my slumber had been 
 disturbed long before that by the squalls of the family 
 next door. We made the best of an inevitable situation 
 and slowly took turns dressing, being the last to leave 
 the ship about seven o'clock. How to pass the time 
 before it would be a respectable hour to call on the 
 American Consul was the only question we had to 
 solve; and we found the time passed very quickly in 
 the consumption of two breakfasts or cups of coffee 
 and a half-hour or so on some benches we found op- 
 posite the Bahnhof The respectftil note which we had 
 sent to Mr. Clarence R. Slocum, asking him to see us 
 "out of hours" had been answered with a request to 
 call at nine forty-five; and we patiently bided the time. 
 Mr. Slocum proved to be more of a corker than our 
 Venetian representative. His wife met us in the hall, 
 and we played a few minutes with their cunning little 
 children and were then ushered into the office. Right 
 
•in- 
 here we struck a rich piece of luck, although the Fates 
 have been most favorable all the way, for that matter. 
 The one place above all others we wanted to reach 
 was Scutari in Turkey, or Albania, more properly; 
 largely because we were told it was impossible to get 
 there without passports and likewise on account of 
 Len Kennedy's strong recommendation. We hoped 
 for a solution, or at least information, but never 
 dreamed he would be so great as to take us around 
 and introduce us to the Turkish Consul, who, by 
 chance, was a friend. Time was getting short, for our 
 boat left at eleven, and great was our chagrin to find 
 the gentleman was not at home. He was due to arrive 
 in about fifteen minutes from Budapest. We still had 
 time, so adjourned to the Royal Hotel and had a bottle 
 of beer all around. And the Consul absolutely insisted 
 on paying for it, too ! That's rather an interesting thing 
 to put in print: a glass of beer on the American Con- 
 sul, eh? He certainly was nice to us, and without him 
 we wouldn't have had a chance. 
 
 The head of the Turkish Legation likewise gave us 
 a new impression of an Ottoman gentleman. He was 
 as polished and polite as could be, and we showed our 
 appreciation by many bows and scrapes — a few merci 
 hiens thrown in. The old gentleman gave us a letter to 
 M. Nassih Bey, head of the legation at Cetinje, and 
 we left, assured of getting something from him. We 
 
• 118- 
 shook hands with our American friend and boarded 
 Steamer No. 2, which was to take us to Cattaro. 
 
 The S. S. Fannonia was a neat-looking white Httle 
 vessel, the size of a large private yacht, and we were 
 very comfortable indeed, though our stateroom on the 
 lowest deck apparently had little ventilation. We had 
 no more than cleared the harbor, when we were called 
 to lunch, and for the first time Harry and I were sepa- 
 rated. It was my lot to sit opposite a very charming mid- 
 dle-aged French lady (her jewelry dazzled, too!) and 
 her husband, who was no less attractive. Every once in 
 a while they would speak a few words of broken Eng- 
 lish, till I felt sure they were "kidding'* me. Only two 
 other people on the boat spoke English at all, so we 
 had to depend entirely on the little German Harry 
 could "spiel "off. We slept a couple of hours apiece 
 after lunch and with that exception, were keenly alive 
 to the beauties of the Dalmatian coast, down which 
 we ran. A never-ceasing string of islands shut us oif 
 from the larger sea and gave us the impression of sail- 
 ing down a bay or large river. The hills and mountains 
 were glorious, though as we went on they seemed 
 more and more void of vegetation and stood out like 
 chalk cliffs or our own tufted hills in Idaho, for they 
 were quite barren, though by no means monotonous 
 — in fact, quite picturesque. 
 
 As the sun waned in power, we sighted Zara, 
 
•119- 
 and our first stop was quite interesting. Harry and I 
 wandered around the white little town and enjoyed 
 some of the Oriental costumes — an indication that 
 we were nearing the region where East meets West. 
 We almost got lost, too, and had a hard time finding 
 our way back to the boat, which left ten or fifteen 
 minutes earlier than we had been given to understand. 
 
 The evening was fully as enjoyable and far more 
 grand than the night before; and once more Harry 
 and I had a bully little talk as we sat in the stern and 
 watched the dark mountainous outlines of the shore 
 slip quickly by, with the occasional glimmer of a light- 
 house. Strange to say, we really slept, and that, too, in 
 that stuffy room while the boat was docked an hour at 
 Spalato. It must have been near nine the next day 
 when we sipped coffee that beat anything we have 
 had for being poor. The coffee seems to get worse 
 every day and the days hotter. Certainly this Monday 
 morning was another corker — not a cloud in the sky. 
 Come to think of it, every day has been cloudless since 
 we came to Venice. Whew, though! it would be hot 
 work walking up that mountain to Montenegro. Al- 
 ready I was beginning to feel a bit squeamish about it. 
 
 We had picked up a couple of hundred soldiers 
 over night, for the decks were literally strewn with 
 them, and gayly attired officers flashed their swords 
 all over the cabin and dining-saloon. The whole 
 
•120- 
 scenery now approached a grandeur that was not in 
 evidence the day before. The hills became real moun- 
 tains — many of them of sheer rock, too. We already 
 saw Montenegro. The sail between the two forts into 
 the little bay on which is situated Castelnuovo, was 
 most picturesque, and my heart fairly throbbed when 
 we came in sight of the huge mountain back of Cat- 
 taro that Harry and I anticipated climbing. In that sky, 
 with a tropical sun and burning heat — a pack to 
 carry besides! It was impossible! We would fall ex- 
 hausted in an hour. Even the men carry umbrellas 
 down here. Harry was coming to feel the same way, 
 and by the time we docked at Cattaro, we had well 
 determined to ride. The automobile for six was at 
 first a possibility — but we did not stand a chance. A 
 not bad looking Italian on board approached us, and 
 we had soon arranged to be driven to Cetinje for thirty 
 kronen, with the possibility of our keeping the wag- 
 on for four days should we be able to make Scutari. A 
 reasonably fair lunch, a hasty look around the narrow 
 minature streets of the town, a half-hour spent stamp- 
 ing letters in the post office, and we were ready to start 
 up the mountain; and, strange to relate, the French 
 gentleman and his wife followed just behind. 
 
121 
 
 S. S. Antivarij 
 
 En route Scutari to Rjeka, 
 
 Wednesday, August 17, 1910. 
 
 SO we got in our little four-wheeler, pulled by two 
 sturdy, small gray horses, and seated ourselves 
 comfortably. By comfortably, I mean, Harry stuck his 
 feet up on the front seat, and I followed suit for socia- 
 bility's sake. We were already fairly easy in mind about 
 Scutari. The steamers that ran only twice a week, we 
 now learned went every day at 10:30 A.M. from the 
 head of the lake and 4:00 P.M. back from Scutari. The 
 only trouble was, if we were to get there on the mor- 
 row, we must needs start early from Cetinje and would 
 have to interview the Turkish Consul that evening on 
 our arrival — a not very propitious moment. 
 
 But let's get up this hill first: Len Kennedy had told 
 us this was the most wonderful drive he ever took — 
 my aunt had written that it alone was worth the whole 
 trip — but my expectation was so far exceeded that 
 words utterly fail to describe it. We took a picture of 
 the little bay of the Adriatic where our steamer landed, 
 then another from what we considered a very respec- 
 table elevation, an hour or so later, but little we real- 
 
•122- 
 ized that we were to go three or four times higher, into 
 the very clouds. 
 
 At a little well our driver watered his horses, and 
 as we paused for several minutes, a small group of pic- 
 turesque inhabitants passed by. Dirty? yes; probably 
 filthy, but our first good view of the black-and-red cir- 
 cular caps, the red jackets, blue knickers and white 
 stockings was most interesting. The women were 
 more disheveled, dressed mostly in a white costume 
 with a black turban, signifying marriage. 
 
 The blue of the Adriatic! I have never seen such a 
 perfect blue on the water before. It was exquisite and 
 the cloudless, rich color of the sky was well matched 
 in the sea below. Then, as our horses swung rapidly up 
 a slight grade over to the other side of the valley, then 
 around a turn, a new vista hove in sight: another 
 bay of the Adriatic — not sheltered by high cliffs, and 
 consequently, a paler, and in spots, a blue that was sev- 
 eral shades lighter. A single row of hills separated this 
 from the larger body of water, and there, over the top 
 we could see it, sure enough! The sea in the distance 
 was so enveloped in haze and its color from our view- 
 point so pale as to match perfectly the whitish-blue of 
 the sky on the horizon that, but for a few specks 
 (ships) on its surface, one could hardly decipher the 
 meeting-point. Even as we rose higher, the distinction 
 was not evident, and to look steadily at it made me feel 
 
•123- 
 at times as if I had lost my equilibrium and were off 
 balance. Far to the right, directly under the sun's rays 
 the reflection made of the water a sea of silver. It is no 
 exaggeration to say that it looked like molten silver. 
 As the sun sank and we rose, the whole view assumed 
 a grandeur that defies words, and the Bay of Cattaro, 
 which was ever below us, was fringed actually with 
 purple, lavender, and light greeo, the blue of the sky 
 being in the middle. 
 
 We rested again at a little cottage some three thou- 
 sand feet in the air and exchanged a few words with the 
 attractive Mr. & Mrs. Fran^ais, who spoke a very little 
 English. Then on once more, ever winding up the 
 mountain. Every inch of the road is a perfect marvel 
 of construction : wide, absolutely level, and bounded 
 by a clearly cut gutter and three-foot stonewall on the 
 outside. It is, however, most dusty from the pulverized 
 rock. They didn't have to go far for their material cer- 
 tainly, as the whole mountain is solid rock. 
 
 Four thousand, five thousand (?) feet in the air — 
 pretty high for a drive — and all this clear gain over sea 
 level. We at last reached level ground after some four 
 hours* toil and swung around a corner of rock out of 
 sight of the Adriatic. What was in store for us? Could 
 there be a plateau up here? I should say not, yet it was a 
 kind of plateau — a very hilly and rocky one at that. 
 We dropped a few hundred feet and pulled up at a rude 
 
•124- 
 village, the only town between Cattaro and Cetinje. 
 Harry and I made for the house with the " Caffe " spelt 
 on it. The heat had been terrific, even when we some- 
 times put up the hood, and we felt much need for a 
 glass of beer. But no ; a shout stopped us, and we could 
 plainly see that we were wanted next door. A glance 
 at the daggers and pistols stuck through these people*s 
 sashes left no room for hesitation. 
 
 Our driver had muttered something about a pass- 
 port, but we little dreamed one was necessary for Mon- 
 tenegro. Here, however, we were in a dilemma. We 
 entered the little house and waited our turn. The only 
 thing we had was a card from Mr. Wood at Venice, 
 introducing us (in English, too,) as American citizens. 
 Our letter to Mr. Nassih Bey was of no use in this 
 place. Here was a regular French Tribunal of the Revo- 
 lution sitting behind a plain wooden table, and we, 
 the culprits, standing in front, awaiting sentence. 
 Not a chance ! A few words with the French gentleman 
 were reassuring, and our hopes revived when a few 
 minutes later we saw him get thro', on a French shoot- 
 ing-license. Calmly we walked up to the bar and pre- 
 sented Mr. Wood's card introducing us, and our own 
 names written out on another. For a few moments it 
 certainly looked dubious ! But the name in print of the 
 American Consul had a magic influence, and we were 
 handed papers to sign: name; country, etc.; then occu- 
 
•125- 
 pation : manufacturer; business : plaisir; destination, etc.: 
 Cetinje from Cattaro; length of stay: un, deux jours. 
 
 That's the way the right side of the ledger looked, 
 and such a mixture of English and bum French as 
 Harry and I put there I hope never to see again. I don't 
 know if they understood the few words of French I 
 jabbered at them — but Lord knows they couldn't talk 
 anything we could understand. So ended our first real 
 experience. 
 
 Those costumes, though, certainly are unique. It's 
 about the first time I have met a man, face to face, off 
 the stage, with a gun on his shoulder and a dagger 
 and loaded pistols at either side of his belt. Some of 
 them are great brutes of men, too, and in their red- 
 topped, black-bordered round hats, white stockings, 
 blue pantaloons, and red or fancy-colored waistcoats, 
 they are a picturesque sight. From there on, Harry and 
 I bowed from our carriage to every one of them we 
 passed — it was a regular Teddy Roosevelt parade 
 down Fifth Avenue — at least that gentleman on his 
 return couldn't have bowed much more. 
 
126 
 
 S. S. Pannonia, 
 En route Cattaro to Fiume, 
 Thursday, August 18, 1910. 
 
 BEFORE starting on, we returned to the *'Caf]Fe" 
 for our beer and asked the driver to join us. There, 
 in front of the bar, was our strapping-big Captain of 
 Dragoons — Chairman of the Inquisition; so, not 
 wishing to show any ill-feeling, we invited him, too. 
 The good fellow thought, no doubt, the second bottle 
 opened was for him alone and most generously refilled 
 Harry's and my half-filled glasses; but he seemed most 
 chagrined when I poured his second glass out for the 
 driver, with whom he doubtless did not care to be 
 associated. This was, of course, a breach of courtesy on 
 my part, but it; saved another krone or two. 
 
 The two-hour or so drive to Cetinje was nearly as 
 interesting, if less grand, than our long pull up the 
 mountain, for it gave us an excellent idea of the coun- 
 try of Montenegro. Truly, It is a remarkable land. The 
 whole sixty miles or so square that it consumes is 
 nothing but one gigantic rock. There are valleys, hun- 
 dreds of them, but almost all are shallow, and rocky 
 hills project even from their middle. It is largely on 
 
•127- 
 account of this shallowness that they are able to wind 
 their roads so cleverly from one side of the valley to 
 the other. The lack of much vegetation also compels 
 the inhabitants to make the very most of every inch 
 of land. It is by no means an unusual sight to see a 
 hayiield at the very bottom of a circular pit that is 
 not an inch over twenty feet in diameter and around 
 which the road winds. Nor is that all that is available 
 on that particular plot, for by means of stonewall 
 banks and fences, eight or nine terraced fields are ob- 
 tained, each only five or six feet in width, but large 
 enough to grow corn, potatoes, and other farm prod- 
 ucts. All this was most strange and full of interest; 
 but there is scarcely one foot of soil to every ten, twenty 
 — possibly thirty — of rock in the Principality. 
 
 The sun had sunk long ago and the moon was 
 already glimmering bright, but there was still not 
 an evidence of the capital. We kept on wheeling 
 around corners — we had climbed a lot more, too — 
 and finally, in the distance, at the bottom of one of 
 these valleys, we saw the lights of the city. We were 
 accosted once more on the outskirts of Cetinje, which 
 we reached in another twenty minutes, and were 
 most relieved, as well as surprised, to see the driver 
 pull out of his pocket the signed passes or billets of 
 the journey that we had evidently neglected to take at 
 the Montenegrin Customs. It was a relief to find a 
 
•128- 
 porter who spoke English — even if a little — at the 
 Grand Hotel; and he gave us most complete infor- 
 mation about reaching Scutari. Evidently the boat 
 schedule had been changed for our convenience, as it 
 didn't leave Rjeka at the head of the lake till eleven- 
 fifty, which gave us plenty of time to see our Turkish 
 friend in the morning before we had to start. That ar- 
 ranged, it only remained for us to eat a late dinner and 
 see the town. Of course, no one at the long table, 
 where everyone sat, spoke English, though once in a 
 while the French lady and gentleman passed a pleasant 
 word or two. 
 
 I don't know what I expected Cetinje to be like, 
 though any conception of it I had formed could not 
 come very near hitting the mark. It reminds one 
 strikingly of a frontier town; it would scarcely be 
 called more than a village in America, and yet it is the 
 chief city of Montenegro. There is one main street. 
 The others are of no moment, though on one side 
 is a monastery and on the other the barracks — very 
 roughly speaking, some four or five fine houses — 
 no finer than ordinary, good-looking country resi- 
 dences, at that — all scattered promiscuously about, 
 and those of which the owners are members of the 
 royal family are, of course, guarded. The main street 
 consists almost entirely of a row of bars — at least 
 every third house is a saloon — and in every saloon 
 
rv cc^-n>J?^>u 
 
 f /• 
 
 "^^'^Ir^^ ^ 
 
 ^^.u? ^^ ^,_^ 
 
 ---^•.^.2.'>^>.^^^,^^ 
 
 
 '/^yAaJdAc>4/^.ic^d-^^/^A 
 
• 129* 
 there is, without exception, the inevitable "grapho- 
 phone'* that Len told us of. Such machines, too — 
 their music fairly rasped the air. Next to bars, all of 
 which were well-frequented, came stores in which 
 cigarettes, pistols, and costumes predominated. 
 
 The one joy of living of those picture-people, so 
 far as I can see, consists either of strutting about, 
 pistol in belt, cigarette in mouth, or in sipping drinks 
 at a bar. They certainly show no other joy, their stolid 
 faces betray none; and I am sure there is no smile lurk- 
 ing beneath the bushy moustaches, either. It is a most 
 serious thing, this business of theirs: strutting about 
 and drinking. The great number of people in the 
 streets may possibly be accounted for by the fact that 
 Cetinje is now en fete. They are celebrating some an- 
 niversary of their sovereign's reign, and I believe all 
 the fuss they are making is likewise over the accession 
 of a new prince. The streets are lined with prettily 
 garlanded poles, which aid very much in beautifying 
 a not otherwise attractive city. 
 
 The people are all dressed in the same national cos- 
 tume I have described, tho' occasionally you meet 
 some of the officers in green or white long-jacket coats 
 over the suit. This same no-sleeve, jacket-effi^ct, is the 
 main characteristic of the women's dress, besides the 
 little cap and veil down the back. With them it is in- 
 variably white and shows off to fine advantage over a 
 dark or purple dress. 
 
•130- 
 So much for Cetinje. Now for Scutari: Provided all 
 was well, we expected to leave in our carriage for the 
 boat at nine-thirty. Three-quarters of an hour earlier, 
 we were pointed out the house of the Turkish Le- 
 gation and anxiously approached. A fine-looking, 
 middle-aged gentleman with a red fez on his head, 
 came out and started down the street. Fearing lest he 
 was Nassih Bey himself, we hurried after him, and in 
 my most excellent French I inquired if he were the 
 same: "Nous desirons oiler a Scutari ce matin a neuf hemes 
 et demie/* I next said, or words intended to convey 
 that idea, at the same time presenting the magic 
 note. He was not the right man but very nice, just 
 the same. He motioned for us to wait there till he re- 
 turned and he went on his way. There we were, left: 
 standing in front of the Legation, with only a few min- 
 utes to spare; but we were not without hope. Nor was 
 our confidence misplaced, for fifteen minutes later, 
 our latest Ottoman acquaintance returned, though in 
 the meantime we were kept busy asking people who 
 left the house if, perchance, they were Monsieur Bey. 
 We now gave our note to a messenger, who was sent 
 scurrying up the street; but even as he started, the great 
 Turk, admirably dressed, a splendid fine-looking man, 
 hove in sight around a corner, and we were saved. Not 
 yet, but very presently — for we were shown into the 
 house — and after some more flocks of words from 
 
•131- 
 my lips, smacking but slightly of the French, we were 
 finally handed an officially stamped envelope and hon 
 voyage. No sooner had we delivered ourselves of 
 many thanks and gotten outside, than Harry and I 
 impatiently opened the missive but found only two 
 lines of the darndest hieroglyphics — dots and curves 
 — I have ever seen, with the official seal of the Otto- 
 man Legation at the bottom. So far as we were con- 
 cerned, it was sufficient; and we went on our way, 
 light in heart and spirit, having at last made good on 
 carrying out our desires and purpose. 
 
 We sure did enjoy the two hours' ride to the boat at 
 Rjeka, as much in wondering anticipation of Scutari 
 as for the beauty of the country. It was the same gen- 
 eral type as the day before, only down hill all the way, 
 the view at the start of the Lake of Scutari and the 
 pretty little village of Rjeka on one of its estuaries, 
 being the principal new features. 
 
132 
 
 S.S. Pannonia, 
 En route Cattaro to Fiume, 
 Friday, August 19, 1910. 
 (Looking back over the last thirty or forty pages, 
 I find I have kept up a fairly steady daily average in 
 this little book but never seem quite equal to the task 
 of getting up to date. Here goes for a darned good 
 try, anyway.) 
 
 THE boat which we boarded at Rjeka last Tues- 
 day morning, was nothing but one old tub of a 
 broken-down launch, and, to make matters worse, she 
 actually essayed to tow two large heavily laden barges. 
 Her speed, you may have already guessed, was not start- 
 ling—not enough so, at any rate, to enter her in an 
 international race, or anything like that; but as the 
 scenery was all new to us, we didn't mind it much. For 
 almost an hour we zigzagged and crisscrossed down 
 our little stream, in and out among thousands of water 
 lilies, as well as barren hills. The few clusters of tufted 
 trees, every once in a while, along the edge, gave to 
 the whole atmosphere a rather tropical air. Then we 
 launched boldly out upon Lago di Scutari, and once 
 again Harry and I searched carefully for any indication 
 
•133- 
 of a town. It must have been another hour before the 
 village of Virpazar showed itself half hidden behind 
 the reeds of a swamp. 
 
 We now changed over to a regular tug boat, with 
 a regular captain, all togged out in a white duck suit. 
 He was a good-natured fellow, this round-cheeked 
 Italian captain. His principal occupation, besides sleep- 
 ing regularly on the way to and from Scutari, seemed 
 to be smiling good-by to passengers. Harry and I made 
 ourselves quite comfortable in the bow of the good 
 ship Antivari, although the captain presently occupied 
 one of the two — and the only two — steamer chairs 
 himself. By traveling first-class, we got away from the 
 many dirty inhabitants who crowded the stern. 
 
 Before starting down the lake, we crossed over to 
 still another little invisible village among the rushes, 
 and here, in the clumsy barge that carried passengers 
 out to us, I saw my first veiled woman. Only the barest 
 outlines of her nose were visible through the yellow 
 scarf that entirely covered her face, while over her head 
 she wore a light-weight red hood that enveloped most 
 of her body. There were several others with her, like- 
 wise veiled, and a few Turks with red fezzes also got 
 on. Already we were breathing the Orienal atmos- 
 phere. 
 
 "We managed to make signs to the pimply-faced 
 steward that we wanted something to eat, and he 
 
•134- 
 brought us a box of sardines apiece, a loaf of tough 
 gray bread and a bottle of beer. Not very appetizing 
 in view of only a cup of rotten coffee early in the 
 morning, but we made the best of it; and afterwards, 
 Harry and I took turns writing our diaries and sleep- 
 ing in our single comfortable chair. The lake was as 
 smooth as glass and the day intolerably hot, so that 
 every bit of the slight breeze in the bow was a welcome 
 relief. The perfect light-pea-green of that water was 
 quite as unusual as the blue of the Adriatic, to which 
 I have referred; for I have never seen it equaled. The 
 lake must be thirty miles or more long, yet its setting 
 between long rows of high, rocky, and desert-like 
 mountains, makes its distance very deceptive. It cer- 
 tainly looks hot, too. 
 
 It was a little after five when our tug anchored a half- 
 mile or so away from a very small town on the farther 
 edge of the lake, which I could hardly believe was 
 Scutari — nor was it, but we had to go there first. A 
 whole swarm of crude boats, pointed at bow and stern, 
 and propelled by swarthy ugly-looking Turks, flocked 
 around us, and it finally dawned on us that one of them 
 must take us in. We landed in the boat with the veiled 
 ladies, of possibly some "big gun's harem/* and care- 
 fully avoided looking them over too closely, lest per- 
 chance, a dagger should penetrate our sides. It was 
 all most interesting, this entrance into a real Oriental 
 
•135- 
 town. The port where we landed was fairly thronged 
 with officers — Turks and Albanians of all descriptions 
 jabbering, yelling (and smelling, too,) as much as was 
 in their power to do so. (Speaking of smelling, Harry 
 and I can't boast too much ourselves, after a week in 
 one shirt apiece and these clothes. We are just long- 
 ing for the cleaning up to come at Venice to-morrow 
 morning, when we can feel like respectable gentlemen 
 again.) Profuse and obstinate were the proffers of as- 
 sistance, and at least ten hands clutched part of our bag; 
 but we finally awarded the palm of victory to as evil-a- 
 looking devil as I have ever seen. He wore some kind 
 of a disheveled white suit with red sash and cap, and 
 both his moustache and mouth drooped badly. He set 
 out to lead us to the Hotel Europa, for our Turkish let- 
 ter of introduction worked like magic and was even 
 better than a passport. The officer couldn't make very 
 much of our names, though — "Henrica Curtissi and 
 Karol Trombull William-s,'* he called us — but little it 
 mattered so long as we got through. He was most 
 polite and helpful, however, and told us (in French) 
 to give our guide only a krone. 
 
 The mile and a half walk to the main part of Scu- 
 tari gave us as good a general idea of the town as we 
 afterwards got, and I might as well try to describe it 
 here, although it is a hard task. 
 
 In the first place, it must be ten times as large as 
 
•136- 
 Cetinje, though very much spread out and pro- 
 longed in length. Then the congestion a-nd jam in the 
 narrow streets and shops is something not unlike the 
 Ghetto of New York. The main street is a little wider, 
 and, of course, is both a road for carriages and for those 
 walking, at the same time. Every two or three hun- 
 dred yards there is a section very much resembling a 
 general market, which I think they call a "Bazaar" 
 (though unfortunately we didn't see the main Bazaar 
 back of the the port we entered, at all, owing to lack 
 of time the next morning). 
 
 In these markets, on either side of the street, every 
 conceivable thing is sold. Food, of course, predomi- 
 nates; watermelons and great huge round pies, possi- 
 bly pancakes or loaves of bread, seeming to be the 
 staple products. 
 
 The smells and odors in these districts were terrific, 
 and the shops themselves looked filthy, as well as their 
 owners. Apparently, the shop or stall, open at the 
 front, was their home as well; it was not hard to see 
 the reason why plagues and epidemics have caused 
 havoc in the East. 
 
 (N. B. — I have since ascertained that Scutari has 
 a mortality rate far below that of most cities of the 
 world. This is remarkable in view of its frightful sew- 
 erage conditions, refiise being left to dry in the sun. 
 Since it doesn't penetrate below the surface, the water 
 
•137- 
 supply remains unadulterated, and as the germs of 
 disease have never been sown, the place is in reality 
 healthy.) 
 
 Add to all this a constant racket and uproar, the cries 
 of women and children, men brawling or scrapping, 
 and you still have a most inadequate picture of Scu- 
 tari. 
 
 Up and down this main street poured a continual 
 stream of people. Nor was there any distinctive cos- 
 tume as in Cetinje. There was rather a conglomeration 
 of types that has left a most confused picture in my 
 mind. There were most picturesque Turks in white 
 skirts to their knees; there were others with huge 
 baggy trousers, pulled in tight just above the ankles; 
 still others wore pantaloons or breeches tight under 
 the knee, but lapping over in huge folds; but all wore 
 the invariable white or red-crowned felt cap with a 
 tassel attached. White predominated in color. There 
 were many old bearded fellows, too, in robes gaily 
 flowing to the ground, their heads bound in elaborate 
 turbans — -quite like the pictures of the scribes or mem- 
 bers of the Jewish Sanhedran. Priests, too, mingled in 
 the crowd; and officers — many officers and soldiers of 
 all descriptions. Loaded asses, or oxen tugging at heav- 
 ily laden wagons, driven by barefoot boys, wormed 
 their way in, while countless children rushed around 
 all over the place. Two or three people we saw whose 
 
• 138 • 
 clothes resembled the Western style, but not many. 
 The women, too, were interesting, with their long 
 hoods and veiled faces. Some wore beautiful silken 
 scarfs; others were less pretentious. Many wrinkled 
 old hags left their faces uncovered, though as we 
 passed, the hood was always drawn tighter around the 
 face. Men and women alike wore a peculiar sandal for a 
 shoe, with long-pointed toe turned up and round at 
 the end, like the prow of a gondola. 
 
 Such, as well as I can tell it, is the City of Scutari, 
 as interesting a place as I ever hope to see. They look 
 bad, these people with their swarthy complexions, 
 evil eyes, and ever-present dagger (pistols were less in 
 evidence). But I imagine it just a question of getting 
 used to them and in a month's time, I daresay, we 
 would have gained confidence and treated them like 
 dogs. 
 
 Certainly I had little to say when, on our arrival 
 at the neat-looking Hotel Europa, our Turk fired at 
 my feet the krone I gave him and demanded more. 
 We had a fearfiil scrap, and the scamp finally departed 
 sulkily with a dollar and a half in his pocket. The hotel 
 manager was an energetic, fine-looking young chap 
 and looked after us in great shape. We couldn't get din- 
 ner till eight, so Harry and I walked around for an 
 hour and a half or so, seeing pretty much the same 
 things that I have rather clumsily described, though 
 
•139' 
 we did walk to the outskirts of the town, where there 
 were some nice residences, and where it was far from 
 squalid. We bought a package of one hundred Turk- 
 ish cigarettes, and the old fellow seemed tickled to 
 death to get one krone for them, which was probably 
 ten times their real value. 
 
 We naturally didn't expect much for dinner, so 
 nearly expired on the spot when some delicious 
 caviar-and-lemon was served us as a starter. Then fol- 
 lowed a remarkable curry of rice, with tender liver- 
 and-kidney ; and a roast with spinach, no less delicious; 
 a wonderful jellied pancake; and finally, for dessert, 
 some green figs — peculiar to the region — with most 
 delicious red insides. It was quite one of the best 
 meals I have ever had; and it was with a feeling of 
 supreme satisfaction that we drew up two chairs in 
 the street against the hotel front to enjoy a quiet 
 pipe. Quiet — for in a little less than an hour the entire 
 town had shut up like a clam. Save for a soldier or 
 two, there was not a soul in the street, and in every 
 one of the excited shop centres, not a creature stirred. 
 Every house or stall was now barricaded by its wooden 
 covering that slides into place. It was most wonder- 
 ful and restfiil; and the clear dark sky, illuminated by 
 the sparkling stars — and a now near-full moon — just 
 finished off the picture. Inside in the large hotel bar- 
 and billiardroom, officers and soldiers were gambling 
 
• 140- 
 and playing cards and there was considerable racket. 
 Over all, however, the din of the ever-present "bum" 
 graphophone could be heard, and as the selections 
 were very limited, "The Waltz Dream" and the "Cry- 
 ing Song" from "Tosca" had to bear repeating many 
 times. 
 
 I tossed around a long time before I fell asleep that 
 night. It was very hot and stifling. Poor Harry doesn't 
 remember sleeping at all. There was certainly no 
 chance for it after 6 A.M., for at that hour I was sud- 
 denly awakened by the roll and clang of a band and 
 a great noise of many cries and shouts in the street. 
 There, down the street, what was coming but a whole 
 regiment of troops — all in a green-and-khaki effect 
 suit, and packs and knapsacks on their backs. At their 
 head was the band playing a weird Turkish march, 
 which the first couple of hundred men took up and 
 sang in a kind of hoarse, guttural chant. The officers 
 rode on horses; artillery, pack animals, and camp fol- 
 lowers brought up the rear in large numbers; and the 
 whole procession lasted fully ten minutes — a most 
 impressive sight, which Harry and I enjoyed in our 
 pajamas from the balcony of the hotel. No fake 
 parade was this, so early in the morning, but the real 
 business — going somewhere probably, to suppress 
 the insurrection that was then going on. 
 
 The town was awake — Harry assured me it had 
 
•141- 
 been since five — and there was no such thing as sleep 
 in that hubbub, though we tossed around in bed till 
 seven-thirty. 
 
 Just before getting into a carriage for the boat, we 
 made the acquaintance, strangely enough, of an Amer- 
 ican, a Mr. Osborn, who is our Consul-General at 
 Constantinople, and apparently now on a tour of in- 
 spection of the Balkan provinces. He was most glad 
 to see we had the right idea of travel, he said, to come 
 to Scutari, though he was sorry we had to leave at 
 once. He told us a few interesting things about the 
 city which, he said, was one of the real places of inter- 
 est in the East, and which he likened to Damascus. 
 He pointed out the peculiar dress: long, heavy red- 
 embroidered leggings and black-and-white trimmings 
 of some mountain people (coming down, I think he 
 said, on account of the insurrection) who lived in the 
 clefts of the mountain, were hard as nails, and very 
 rarely seen by white people. A few things like that 
 made us regret that we had not met him the night 
 before. Who would ever have thought to hear Eng- 
 lish spoken in Scutari? He hadn't spoken it himself 
 for two weeks — not even the English consul there can 
 speak it — truly a paradox — only he is an Albanian. 
 
 Now I have got to our destination and the end of 
 the journey, I intend to say hardly anything of the 
 return trip (which, of course, was all repetition, but 
 
• 142- 
 nevertheless interesting). Our boat back to Rjeka from 
 Virpazar was so crowded with jabbering Italians, 
 that Harry and I found room only to sit in the bow 
 in the hot sun, and for three hours we were most un- 
 comfortable. The sun was intolerably hot; (Harry suf- 
 fered, too, from a bad cramp) and those darned dagoes 
 never ceased to jabber, and got frightfully on one's 
 nerves. As Harry says, one would say, for instance, 
 "Prago." Another would question "Prago?" and then 
 would come "Prago, prago, prago, prago, etc." 
 
 We had a better dinner and another interesting 
 evening when we finally arrived about 7:30 P.M. at the 
 Grand Hotel, Cetinje. But woe is me! We arose at five 
 the next morning to make sure of catching our boat 
 at Cattaro. For some odd reason, it takes only an hour 
 less to go down all that tremendous drop than it does 
 to come up — and whew! it was dusty, hot and dirty, 
 too, though the grandeur of that most wonderful of 
 drives was still impressive. I got one pretty good pic- 
 ture of the carriage, I think, showing the layers and 
 layers of tape-like road below. Somehow, once the ex- 
 citement of the strange trip and the chief interest was 
 over, discomforts were much more evident and discon- 
 certing — at least Harry and I were glad to get back 
 once more to the boat, where we have since rested, 
 slept, and written, while once more enjoying the 
 pretty sail along the picturesque Dalmatian coast. 
 
• 143 • 
 Looking back now, I am sure I shall always still 
 consider this week's trip one of the most remarkable 
 and interesting I have ever taken. It has been worth 
 while in every way, and I know we both feel a 
 hundredfold repaid for all the trouble which, indeed, 
 has been little enough at that. We are both bitten to 
 pieces: the fleas and bugs — not to mince matters — 
 tackling me two days ahead of Harry. Our suits, too, 
 are disreputable now more than ever. Mine is bespat- 
 tered with ink, has lost three or four buttons, and 
 is gradually falling to pieces. What do we care? We 
 will be clean to-morrow in Venice; and how we shall 
 always love to look back on it all. It has cost only 
 fifty-five dollars apiece, too, for six days* constant 
 travelling, and all that fim! 
 
144 
 
 En route by train, 
 
 Varenna to Tirano, 
 
 Monday, August 22, 1910. 
 
 I THOUGHT when I finished the last page that I 
 was quite through with the adventures of H. T. 
 Curtiss and E. T. "WilHams, but the last three or four 
 days have been so darned ridiculous, I cannot resist 
 adding a few more lines. Just as luck was with us every 
 bit of the journey out to Scutari, so on the return trip 
 everything has gone wrong, with but a few bright 
 features interspersed. It has all been so amusing, how- 
 ever, that Harry and I haven't minded it. We were ab- 
 solutely "all in" when we struck the Pannonia after 
 that fearful ride from Virpazar to Rjeka and our 5 
 AM. start from Cetinje on a very hot and dusty ride to 
 the steamer. "We were just in a maudlin enough 
 condition to laugh at anything, and the awfiil looking 
 woman with a tremendous* 'mug," who ate with her 
 knife and picked her teeth at the table, and the fat 
 lady who sat in our steamer chair, when she wasn't 
 waddling around the deck, helped us out a lot. 
 
 I wish you could have seen us, too, trying to pass 
 away the six hours we had to spend in Fiume. We pro- 
 
•145- 
 longed an argument over the bill at the Royal Hotel, 
 where we lunched, so that it consumed at least a full 
 half hour ; for a similar period we watched trolley cars 
 go by in the hopes that we could get on one that had 
 two free and comfortable seats together. We spent 
 quite as long again trying to find a place where 
 we could purchase a berth on the boat to Venice — 
 only to find all were sold — and finally we ended 
 up halfway between the house of the American 
 Consul and our old friend, the Bahnhof, and lay 
 down flat on the street benches, inviting amused 
 curiosity from passersby. A great afternoon, that! 
 We boarded the darned old Daniel Erno about half 
 an hour before she was due to start and found her 
 jammed with people and every steamer chair gone. 
 There was our opportunity to sleep on deck vanished; 
 but we finally found a place for the night on some 
 mattresses one of the stewards rented us, which were 
 placed on a huge window-seat-effect in the very curve 
 of stern, directly over the propeller. I don't remember 
 the number of times I awoke in the night, but next 
 morning I discovered quickly enough that a throng 
 of "midnight visitors" had put entirely to shame any- 
 thing I have ever received in the shape of bites. My left 
 knee was was surrounded on every side by anywhere 
 from fifteen to twenty huge welts, each one the size of 
 a thumbnail. I was continally reminded of their pres- 
 
• 146 • 
 ence, in fact, every time I took a step. I owe rather a 
 fiinny experience to them, however. 
 
 In the washroom of the Grand Hotel, Venice, a 
 middle-aged plain-looking American, seeing my hand 
 wander inadvertently to the spot, accosted me: "So, 
 you got 'em, too, 'ave you? Found anything to kill'em? 
 No? I haven't either. Ain't it funny how some get 'em 
 and some don't? Now my wife hasn't had a flea in her 
 life. They never touch her. Say, she got a great dose 
 of lice, though, two summers ago — had a terrible 
 time! It costs money, too, I can tell you, to get lice out 
 of a woman's hair. She had to go four different times 
 to be treated, etc." Pretty rich, eh? 
 
 Incidentally, I ought to mention that the Daniel 
 Erno, due at 6:15 A.M., didn't get in till eight-thirty — 
 one thing for which we ought to be thankful. That 
 toilet of ours ought to be chronicled also — it took 
 exactly two hours for shave, bath, haircut, shampoo, 
 and dressing. I don't know when I have ever taken a 
 keener relish in getting clean. The retrospective pleas- 
 ure of it, however, was somewhat marred by our being 
 charged three lira apiece for the bath, on the bill next 
 morning. 
 
 The day in Venice is one of the shining features of 
 our return to which I have alluded. One more bully 
 swim in the tepid Adriatic at the Lido, a fine sail by 
 gondola and a little serenading in the evening — all 
 
•147. 
 delightful ! Harry treated to a bottle of champagne for 
 dinner, which, being preceded by a couple of dry 
 Martinis, added to the evening's enjoyment. Trouble 
 was to come, however! Though we retired at ten in 
 anticipation of an early start, sleep was impossible in 
 that inner chamber of the Palace on an insufferably 
 hot night. Add to that an insatiable thirst, due, I dare- 
 say, to the wine, and we had a darned uncomfortable 
 night. We just felt like sleeping when called at 6 A.M., 
 and it wasn't exacdy fiin getting up. In my drowsiness, 
 I got into a bathtub which I failed to discover had 
 been used, and used with much soap, until the water 
 brushed my chin: a rather disgusting error, I should 
 say. The rush of packing all over again and getting 
 off, coupled with a long search for Harry's camera, 
 which apparently I had lost, although the concierge 
 turned up with it rather miraculously at the last min- 
 ute, added to a general discomfort, and, I fear, 
 peevishness. To cap the climax, Harry thought he had 
 left his cane in the gondola. Back he rushed, chased 
 the disappearing gondolier (Harry adds " over fences ") 
 down the side of the Grand Canal, cussed him out, 
 roundly shouting, "Stoock! Stoock!" then gave long 
 instructions to the porter at the station to send it on, 
 should it be found; and rushed back to the train — 
 only to find that his cane was hanging on his arm 
 under his raincoat all the time! If anyone ever felt like 
 a damned fool, H. T. Curtiss did, I am sure. 
 
• 148 • 
 
 To continue the calamitous record: We were put 
 by our facina in a first-class carriage, by mistake, and as 
 all the seconds were full, took a chance on sticking 
 there. We were charged 1.60 extra fare apiece by the 
 conductor, and when I gave him a five-lira note which 
 apparently he couldn't change, he came back sub- 
 sequently and raised it 1.40 more. We couldn't do a 
 darned thing, either, as he absolutely refiised to speak 
 any English. 
 
 Milan was another shining light in the darkness, in 
 spite of the fact that our taxicab took us through a 
 park to some old arch, when we said distinctly, "La 
 Cathedrale," and of the fact that an effort to see 
 "The Last Supper'* was fruitless, the church being 
 closed on Sundays — I mean, of course, the cloister 
 attached, in which the picture is painted. 
 
 It was the delicious lunch at the Restaurant Cova, 
 recommended by Miss Thompson at Munich, and the 
 Cathedrale, that made Milan shine. The latter is indeed 
 marvelous, even ifnot" done" architecturally. Inferior 
 to Cologne only in the spires and possibly the whole 
 exterior (though the thousands of statues are quite 
 unique), in its interior it really far surpasses anything I 
 have ever seen. The decoration of the roof is most elab- 
 orate, putting fan-tracery to shame, and the tremendous 
 size of it all, with stained-glass windows, beautifiil be- 
 yond words, cannot fail to impress one. 
 
. 149- 
 
 Another dirty ride — for one hour only (nothing 
 could be worse anyway, than the trip from Venice to 
 Milan), and we came to the Lake of Como, where I 
 was distinctly restored to vigor and good spirits; 
 though my good friend Harry, I am afraid, was still in 
 a semi-state of coma (joke! ha! ha!). 
 
 I was really glad to have another view of the Italian 
 Lakes and the beautiful high hills studded with cot- 
 tages on either side of the lake; the pretty towns on 
 the shore, with their varicolored houses and shutters; 
 and then the villas, beautiful more for their fragrant 
 gardens and foliage than picturesqueness of house, 
 were all a welcome relief after our many trials. 
 
 We "plushed up'* a bit at Bellagio that night — 
 had a last good talk while walking in the enjoyable 
 gardens of the Hotel Grande Bretagne, and went 
 to bed fairly early. It was good to get a good sleep, 
 too, you may be sure, although it was disturbed about 
 1 A.M. by one of the most terrific little thunderstorms 
 I have ever seen. It churned the old Lago di Como 
 into a veritable ocean and whistled around our hotel 
 like a young cyclone. Pretty good description, don't 
 you think? 
 
 Now comes the one last straw — and it was a hard 
 blow, too. The ten-fifty-five boat, on which Harry and 
 I parted company at Menaggio (he for Lucerne, I for 
 St. Moritz, to spend a little while with the family). 
 
•150- 
 was half an hour late. Of course, I missed my train 
 from Varenna by a full fifteen minutes; and here I am, 
 if you please, delayed just twenty-one hours in my 
 arrival at St. Moritz. Maybe I wasn't sore as I crunched 
 my lunch at Varenna. But I take off my hat to you, 
 Mr. Robert Browning! A little of your optimism, 
 which I hope is now deep-infiised into my system, 
 was brought to bear; and the outlook cleared. There 
 wasn't any use gnmibling, anyway. And after all, there 
 was some good in it — for now I have a chance in my 
 solitary evening to write Elt and Harry — a chance 
 that has not presented itself in six weeks. Already in 
 the two hours after lunch at Varenna, before I got on 
 this jiggly train, I have pulled off a couple — one of 
 fourteen pages — to Brookes, too! Oh, well, I daresay 
 it will be pleasant enough at Tirano (I shall finish my 
 postal list, too, thank heavens !) and it's only a question 
 of a few hours in the morning before I can hop a train 
 to St. Moritz and see this much-talked-of wonderful 
 Bernina Pass en route, too. Then, I'm up to date in 
 my diary again. Indeed, this isn't such a hard world, is 
 it? even when things do go wrong once in a while? 
 There is still much to be thankful for. 
 
151 
 
 Hotel Jungfrau, Mlirren, 
 Saturday, August 27, 1910. 
 
 BEFORE I begin the narration of this long-her- 
 alded walking trip, which, by the way, I shall re- 
 serve for the start of Part Three, I must return to that 
 ill-fated Monday, August twenty-second, which ended 
 in my finally arriving at Tirano after divers mishaps 
 somewhere in the vicinity of seven o'clock. It wasn't 
 so bad at the Grand Hotel, and I managed to spend a 
 very pleasant evening writing a long letter to Harry 
 Holt, puffing the while on a long black cigar. I found, 
 too, to my satisfaction that there were trains to St. 
 Moritz leaving at five-forty and eight-fifty-five. I rather 
 liked the idea of arriving at nine in time for breakfast 
 with the family, so chose the earlier one, leaving a call 
 for five as I went to bed. 
 
 I awoke somewhat sleepily at the light rapping on 
 the door in the early morning — to find with some 
 disgust that my watch registered only four-forty-five. 
 If they couldn't give me any breakfast at that hour, I 
 certainly wasn't going to waste a good sixty minutes 
 getting dressed, so I rolled over. 
 
 What! Could it really be five-thirty? Sure enough, I 
 
• 152- 
 had dozed forty-five minutes and had but ten left to 
 catch my train. I don't believe in giving up without a 
 struggle, and my general toilet and dressing that 
 morning was rather on the rush order, though be it 
 said to my credit, that I did manage to brush my hair 
 and teeth. When all dressed and packed, three min- 
 utes remained in which to make the train, and the por- 
 ter and I cut this in half running to the station where 
 cries of "Partita! Partita!" greeted us. I gradually be- 
 came aware of the fact that the five-forty had left sev- 
 eral minutes before, and a glance at the station clock 
 showed that the hotel time was ten minutes slow. A 
 restless two hours more in bed, during which I did 
 little but brood ruefully on this last unkindest cut, 
 were compensated in a very slight degree by the hum- 
 ble apologies of the proprietor at breakfast. 
 
 Once on the Bernina bahn, however, the outlook 
 brightened. After a half hour or so, I laid aside the 
 book on Dalmatia which I had bought on my return 
 to Venice, and interested myself in the truly marvelous 
 route the electric train was following. I have ridden 
 before in trains and funiculars that wind around, ever 
 upward, following the track of a valley, but never be- 
 fore did I see one that picked out a mountain and 
 wound its way back and forth a good seven thousand 
 feet or so, right up its very side. The town of Poschiavo 
 we must have passed and repassed a dozen times, each 
 
•153- 
 trip another five hundred feet higher above it. Unfor- 
 tunately, it began to rain before long, and to my amaze- 
 ment, as we approached the top of the pass, the 
 drops of rain turned into heavier and heavier flakes of 
 snow. The Bernina Pass was very impressive in a blind- 
 ing blizzard, though I suppose I should be thankful 
 for the little glimpse I got of the lake and the foot of 
 two large glaciers. 
 
 "Well — I arrived anyway, and while I shall say 
 scarcely anything of my stay in St. Moritz — that not 
 being in the itinerary of my European Tour — though 
 the four Harry and I left behind us seemed to enjoy 
 it very much, I can at least put it on record that I had 
 an exceedingly good time with the family, and that I 
 think favorably enough of the Engadine to pay it a 
 more substantial visit at some future time. It must be 
 particularly fascinating when clad in snow, and I 
 should much like to see the famous Cresta run, as 
 well as the tobogganing in full sway in the winter 
 months. I enjoyed having it all pointed out to me by 
 Frances the afternoon of my arrival and the next 
 morning with the storm clouds out of the way and a 
 generally warmer atmosphere. I got a fairly good idea 
 of the region from a walk with Frances and Miss 
 "Betty" Collamore (a most interesting older girl) to 
 the Ober Alpina, a little ledge five hundred feet or so 
 above the village. 
 
•154- 
 
 The family were good enough to accompany me 
 on my way to join the boys at Lucerne, so that with 
 their company and the beautiful scenery, the long 
 journey to Thalwil, near Zurich, passed very quickly. 
 A short ride further and I arrived at Lucerne and the 
 Hotel Beau-Rivage, where I was informed that I 
 should find my friends in the "gameroom." 
 
 There are only a few things I wish to say about 
 Lucerne: It is a great place to have a good time — 
 more though of the American summer good time, 
 and as that is not what one generally travels for 
 abroad, the sooner we left, the better pleased was L 
 I cannot appreciate beautiful scenery in an atmos- 
 phere of gaiety, fine dresses, balls, band concerts, and 
 thousands of tourists — mostly American. I did enjoy 
 a few sets of tennis, also a short visit with Doctor and 
 Mrs. Jewett, which, with preparations for the coming 
 trip, took up most of my one day in that fashionable 
 center. 
 
 Having changed my clothes on my arrival at the 
 hotel, I wandered about the Kursaal grounds; but it 
 was an hour or so before I met any of the speeds. 
 Then I ran into Curt and "Skinny'* Connell, who 
 promptly escorted me to the gaming-table, where I 
 as promptly divested myself of ten francs. I heard 
 that Pete had already lost a hundred and Harry nearly 
 as much, and it did not take me long to see that the 
 
• 155- 
 game was a poor one. I, of course, fell under the spell 
 of its fascination and did not have the sense to leave 
 it alone. It is similar to Petits Chevaux — nine num- 
 bers — only played like roulette — with a ball. The 
 payment, however, is only 6-1, on the numbers 
 and 2-1 odd, or even, either of which is discounted 
 by the frequently recurring possibility of the ball's 
 rolling in one of the two No. 5's. The next afternoon 
 before supper, I tried it again and managed to come, 
 out twenty- two francs to the good. That encouraged 
 me to slip away with "Pinny" Riggs from the dance 
 at the Palace that evening, and, of course, I lost — 
 some thirty-five francs or so — leaving me about four- 
 fifty out altogether. "Pinny** lost ten himself. 
 
 That dance, by the way, was good fun, chiefly ow- 
 ing to the presence there of a Miss Florence Johnson, 
 who makes her debut in Philadelphia next winter. 
 She is a perfect corker — one of the sweetest and most 
 interestingly attractive girls I have ever met — though 
 not especially good-looking. We all took turns danc- 
 ing with her; the Van Sinderen brothers, too. Her 
 mother gave the six of us a very nice dinner party 
 beforehand, in spite of a poor start. As we were wait- 
 ing in the hall of the Palace for Harry and Curt, we 
 had the pleasure of seeing them come out of the BAR, 
 munching a large cracker apiece. It couldn't have been 
 as amusing to Mrs. J., as it was to us, to hear them 
 try to say "Good evening," between swallows. 
 
PART THREE 
 
 OVER THE ALPS TO PARIS 
 
 AND THE 
 
 LUSITANIA 
 
 AUGUST 23-SEPTEMBER 22, 1910 
 
159 
 
 Grimsel Hospice, Switzerland, 
 Tuesday, August 30, 1910. 
 
 WE have been walking four days now, and it's 
 time I got down to work and wrote them up, 
 lest the various peaks and mountains that we have 
 climbed, as well as seen, lose all significance in a con- 
 fiised jumble of names. To tell the truth, I had enter- 
 tained doubts of the trip*s ever being realized, so it was 
 with a feeling of great satisfaction that I heard the de- 
 cision to leave Lucerne last Friday afternoon. That was 
 August 26, 1 believe, though dates are ceasing to have 
 any meaning for me. After the good day of tennis the 
 day before, I was sorry to leave, in a way, especially as 
 "Skinny "Connell," Dummy "Logan,and Fred Hotch- 
 kiss had all arrived. Dick Hawes of our Class was also 
 there, and it was fine to see him again, if but for a few 
 minutes. Those fellows and a Princeton man named 
 White, of whom we saw a little, coupled with our 
 own crowd of six, made a splendid nucleus for a good 
 time; but I think it is just as well we left when we did. 
 I am really glad to be on this walking-trip, for I 
 feel a little personal responsibility for it, having done 
 most of the planning last winter in view of my little 
 
• 160- 
 knowledge of Switzerland from the summer of 1909. 
 Then, too, I was educated at Camp Pasquaney to love 
 walking, and indeed, there is little I like better than 
 a good week's tramp. Of course, when the scenery is 
 grand, too, there is little more one could desire. I was 
 rather amused on my arrival in Lucerne, to find that 
 not the slightest thing had been done towards making 
 arrangements for the trip, no one seeming to have 
 very much of an idea as to just where we were going. 
 It didn't take long, however, at Cook's the next 
 morning, for Benny (who is courier for the week) 
 and me to straighten out the Scheideggs and the other 
 places I had had recommended to me for us to visit; 
 and, as I have said, that Friday afternoon we left by 
 train for Interlaken, where the tramp was to start. 
 
 Before I really begin, however, I think it well to 
 say a few words about the newcomer, T. Lawrason 
 Riggs, alias "Pinny" for short. I said when Harry and 
 I left for the "Far East" that I rather hated to leave 
 just as he joined the party, and so was glad to know 
 on our return that he would be with us for the rest of 
 the trip. "Pinny" is a funny little fellow with an indi- 
 viduality which is even more sharply pronounced than 
 that of any of the rest of us. He has his peculiarities, 
 too, which have not been overlooked one whit in the 
 general "kidding." A perfect little saint (Catholic 
 saint!) in New Haven, over here he gives frequent 
 
•161- 
 evidences of deviltry in his system. He orders his 
 "whis-keh" quite like a man, at the end of each day's 
 walk, else consumes a whole bottle of beer by him- 
 self, and to-night at dinner he actually introduced J. 
 Curtis to a new trick by putting rum in his tea. His 
 greatest fault seems to be a repeated tendency to whine 
 or drawl out "Merrell," in the early hours of the 
 morning, a fault which has caused our Big Benny to 
 vow never to room with him again. Another annoy- 
 ing habit is a desire either to quote whole pages of 
 the "Iliad" and "Odyssey," or perhaps jabber violent- 
 ly in the French language, which he thinks he speaks 
 very well (Lord knows, I can't criticise it), or again, 
 give vent violently to song. These spasmodic utter- 
 ances wouldn't be so bad, did they not come when 
 the rest of us were pushing our way wearily up the 
 steepest part of a hill and in no humour for an exhib- 
 ition, or rather, outpouring of superfluous breath — 
 especially from a little fellow. 
 
 "Pinny" has three or four suits of the same colored 
 light-brown pongee pajamas — at least he says he has 
 — for they all look alike to us, and so tired have we 
 got of them, and so confident were we that he had 
 worn the identical same pair ever since he joined us 
 at Venice, that, on our last night in Lucerne, we actu- 
 ally tore the top of his suit off his back, much to his 
 discomfort and our own amusement. The next morn- 
 
• 162 • 
 ing, when we were all trying to cut down on the 
 number of articles to take in the packs we had 
 bought to carry on our backs, "Pinny" didn't know 
 just where to economize and asked Harry's advice. 
 Harry soon convinced him that he could get along 
 quite well without the lower part of his pajamas, 
 otherwise known as the "pants"; so ''Pinny" sure 
 enough left them behind — all of which is quite amus- 
 ing in view of the fact that Harry didn't have any 
 more than the "top" of his to take, anyway. 
 
 One more story about the little gentleman, before 
 I stop: He rang for a bath one morning, at the Beau- 
 Rivage, only to have the maid inform him that he 
 would have to go up to the floor above. 
 
 "I don't care where it is, so long as I get my bath," 
 "Pinny" objected. 
 
 "But I really don't think you had better take it — 
 I'm afraid you'll take cold," said the maid. 
 
 "Oh, very well, I won't take it," was "Pinny's" 
 startling reply. 
 
 Well — to return once more to that Friday, August 
 26. We boarded the train at about two in the after- 
 noon and went over the Briinig Pass to Meiringen 
 and Brienz, taking the boat at the latter place for a 
 pretty ride on the lake to Interlaken. The Briinig was 
 certainly not very impressive after the rather grand 
 Bernina, though the low clouds prevented our seeing 
 
•163- 
 very much, anyway. We had a pleasant chat with a 
 Psi U Columbia man named Bangs, on the train: 
 though the most important episode by far was our 
 introduction to the most delicious ham sandwich rolls 
 I think I have ever tasted. That interesting event oc- 
 curred at the station on top of the Pass. 
 
 It was something of a novelty, walking from the 
 station to our hotel in Interlaken, luggage in hand. 
 We made a fearful botch of getting to our hotel, too, 
 Harry and Pete balking at five-franc rooms at the 
 somewhat stylish Hotel Jungfrau and finally leading 
 us to the Des Alpes where we ran into a pleasant 
 and unexpected economy of three-franc rooms and a 
 four-franc dinner. That evening, we wandered up to 
 the Kursaal, where Pete, "Pinny,** and I tried the 
 gambling-table again. It was the same poor game as 
 at Lucerne, only instead of numbers, the capitals of 
 the different nations of the world were used: "New 
 York" representing theUnited States, and "Interlaken" 
 and "Jungfrau** taking the place of the number 5's. 
 Of course, Pete and I were cleaned out of our ten- 
 franc limit before very long, though "Pinny** came 
 away triumphantly forty cents to the good. We inter- 
 ested ourselves the rest of the evening watching a 
 middle-aged Russian, who sat opposite, who for over 
 half an hour persistently backed "St. Petersbourg** for 
 five francs a time, covering a possible loss on the 
 
•164- 
 "red" (of which his city was one of four) by another 
 five francs at the same time. He stood over twenty dol- 
 lars to the good at one time, only to lose all his win- 
 nings and as much more by continuing to play. Of 
 course, also, "St. Petersbourg'* turned up the next 
 throw, after he had played his last "cart-wheel." 
 
165 
 
 Grimsei Hospice, 
 
 Grimsel Pass, Meiringen to Gletsch, Switzerland, 
 
 Wednesday morning, August 31- 
 
 I NEVER expected to be able to continue this in 
 the morning, but we awoke to find a driving rain 
 coming down, which, with a strong wind, makes 
 walking about impossible. Benny has telephoned to 
 see if we can get accommodations in the eleven-forty 
 coach to Gletsch, at the head of the Rhone Valley, 
 whence we may be able to walk on to Fiesch in the 
 afternoon. At any rate, the beautiful three-hour walk 
 along the top of the valley, which we had looked for- 
 ward to taking, by a small bridle path from the top 
 of the Grimsel, is out of the question. I am particu- 
 larly sorry to miss it, as Bill Knox, 1908, had told 
 me how fine it was and to be sure and take it. Well, 
 things sometimes go wrong even in the best of fami- 
 lies, and very likely we shall be compensated for our 
 present hard luck by perfect weather at Zermatt. 
 
 I now go back to Interlaken and the actual start 
 of our tramp on the morning of Saturday, August 27. 
 We were called at eight for a nine-thirty start, but it 
 was evident at breakfast that it would be ten before 
 
• 166 • 
 we got off. Pete, Harry, and I were ready at that hour, 
 but the others had disappeared, as we afterwards 
 learned, to purchase rain cloaks, and it was some little 
 while after ten-thirty before they returned in their new 
 black waterproof capes. As Pete shrewdly observed, 
 "It makes all the difference in the world who does the 
 waiting." They had to go to several stores before they 
 found what they wanted, and Benny tells a good story 
 on Curt at the first shop they visited. They had been 
 shown several varieties, but all were too expensive, 
 so they decided to move on. Curt, feeling that some- 
 thing ought to be said, in view of the attention that 
 had been shown them, began to mumble some words 
 in his inimitable manner, to the effect that they would 
 come back again later. Seeing that he was in great dis- 
 tress as to his speech, one of the girl attendants ap- 
 proached him, and said: 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, but what is it you are trying 
 to say?" 
 
 We finally got started, Harry, Pete, and I swinging 
 ahead at a good stride, leaving the others to follow. 
 Except for our narrow pack straps cutting our shoul- 
 ders and arms a little, we were fairly comfortable, and 
 we enjoyed immensely our first walk up the pretty 
 valley between rows of high hills, a rushing glacier 
 river on our left, to Lauterbrunnen. For the first hour 
 the road was mostly level, but thereafter we ascended 
 
•167- 
 a continual grade till we reached our destination in 
 exactly two hours and five minutes. We were told it 
 would take three. We had a comfortable lunch at the 
 Hotel des Alpes in Lauterbrunnen, drinking much wa- 
 ter and sitting around afterwards till about four 
 o'clock, in which time we were amused by playing 
 some games we found in the parlour. We tried pufif- 
 billiards or Japanese billiards, for a while, a game 
 in which each of the four players is armed with a 
 little horn-blower and tries to prevent a small mar- 
 ble-size billiard ball from being blown in his pocket. 
 Losing interest in that, all six of us took hands 
 in spinning a little top on a scooped bowl, the game 
 being to see who could knock the most wooden 
 balls into holes around the edge, numbered 1 to 9, 
 with some at 25, 50, 75, 100 and 150. It only remained 
 for Benny, who soon found that he could do pretty 
 well at this game, to suggest that we play for a centime 
 a number, and, of course, I, not being as proficient at 
 spinning the top, came out low man, losing about 
 seventeen francs. Pete was only about three francs be- 
 hind me at that, and Benny and Lawrason, who suc- 
 ceeded in continually giving the top a mighty spin, 
 emerged about twelve francs ahead each. Benny pro- 
 fessed remorse when he found out how much the 
 stakes amounted to, but as the rest of us were fully 
 aware of the possibilities of the game, there was 
 
• 168 • 
 nothing for him to do but pocket the ill-gotten gain, 
 which I doubt came very hard. "Pinny" was only too 
 glad to recoup some of his losses at the gaming-table. 
 The two-and-a-half-hour climb to Miirren was quite 
 a different proposition from the morning's walk. The 
 grade on the footpath was easily £yc times as severe 
 as that on the road had been and a glance at the funic- 
 ular, which went almost perpendicularly an endless 
 distance up the mountain, left no doubt that we had 
 a long way to go up. Harry started off in the lead at 
 "Lusitania" speed and it didn't take long for Benny 
 and me, taking things more leisurely, to come upon 
 him and the others he had led with him, panting 
 hard by the side of the path. After that, we all went 
 slower, but the race was still much too fast for novices 
 who had had no exercise at all since July second; and 
 the second rest at the end of an hour found Curt pale 
 as a ghost, all color having fled from his cheeks. It 
 was interesting to see Lauterbrunnen and the valley 
 draw further and further away from us, and it was not 
 long before both were wholly obscured from our 
 view by the clouds, into which we had literally climbed. 
 Once in a while we caught a glimpse of part of the 
 magnificent Jungfrau far above us and way to the 
 left. One more stop we made for breath, and it was 
 there that Curt observed, when some one remarked it 
 was pretty steep: "Steep? It's steep as a church 
 
•169- 
 
 steeple!" It was only fifteen minutes more toil, per- 
 spiration dropping from our brows and noses at every 
 step (and I am not speaking for myself alone) before 
 we crossed the funicular tracks and came to level 
 ground. Ten minutes* easy walk, and we reached our 
 hotel, "The Jungfrau," at Miirren, having been on the 
 way an even two hours. I figure we covered about 
 twelve miles in all — not bad for the first day uphill I 
 It was refreshing to take a sponge bath (tubs at 
 three francs per were a little too much for our pockets 
 to stand) and to change to fresh stockings and shirt; 
 and after a hearty dinner, I watched Curt take ten 
 francs more out of poor old Pete playing checkers 
 for fifty centimes a man. Before I retired at ten-thirty, 
 I don't mind saying I took four and one half out of 
 Curt at the same game. 
 
170 
 
 Hotel Pension du Qlacier et Poste a Fiesch, 
 
 Fiesch, Switzerland, 
 
 Wednesday, August 31, 1910. 
 
 NOT expecting the clouds to rise until ten or 
 eleven o'clock in the event of its turning out a 
 fine day, it was a most pleasant surprise to awaken and 
 find that every one had vanished over night and the sky 
 was clear. That made me feel pretty fine right at the 
 start, as I was afraid we should not see the Jungfrau 
 at all, nor enjoy the beautifiil scenery en route to the 
 Kleine Scheidegg, which was on the bills for the day. 
 I hadn't had a very comfortable sleep, owing to an 
 unusually short bed, but the beautifiil Sunday morn- 
 ing that greeted us, obliterated all complaints. It gave 
 us a chance, too, to see the pretty little town way up 
 on the mountain side, at which we had lodged over 
 night, and I marked Miirren to add to the numerous 
 other places to which I should like to come in the 
 fixture for a more permanent stay. 
 
 We had more trouble getting under way again, 
 Pete and Lawrie waiting for the party a half-hour or 
 so outside the hotel, while the rest of us were waiting 
 for them inside. It was after ten, as before, when we 
 
•171- 
 started, but we certainly did make up for lost time. 
 Harry, Curt, and I were the chief offenders, and we 
 sure did tear down to Lauterbrunnen with gigantic 
 long strides on the path. The short cuts we took on 
 the run, so that we beat the guidebooks by a good 
 hour, getting down in just under an hour. Our mus- 
 cles were to suffer for our indiscretion before the day 
 was over. A short rest at the hotel where we lunched 
 the day before, and we began to climb all over again, 
 this time toiling our way slowly up to Wengen, a 
 picturesque town on the other side of the valley, not 
 quite so high up as Miirren. It took us over an hour, 
 and I was pretty near "all in" when we finally arrived. 
 Benny felt it, too, though Pete was more tuckered 
 than either of us. Lunch at the Breithorn Hotel re- 
 vived us remarkably, however. Benny got facetious 
 in registering our names, and it was there we found a 
 new nickname for Peter. Curt and I were just plain 
 "manufacturers"; Harry, "guide"; "Pinny's" profes- 
 sion, "literature"; Pete's, "clubman"; and Benny's, 
 "life-saver" — rather a crude joke on his job as "saver- 
 of-souls " at D wight Hall next year. " Club Man " rather 
 fits Peter well, though, if you happen to be ac- 
 quainted with Reginald Roome, Esq., of New York 
 City — and "Club Man" he has been ever since. 
 
 That walk to the Wengern Alp and the Scheidegg 
 was a heart-breaker. The hot sun beat down on our 
 
• 172 • 
 faces, and the perspiration flowed exceedingly freely. 
 There was one old gentleman who pushed his way 
 slowly along, his collar unbuttoned and his coat on 
 his arm. We went flying by him, but at the end often 
 minutes, when we were obliged to rest, he passed us 
 quite as easily — a merry twinkle In his eye, and a smile 
 playing about his lips. We passed him similarly several 
 times, but he always came out ahead, and as he ran 
 quite away from us (all but Harry C, who hates to have 
 any one pass him), we had to admit that the tortoise 
 "had it'* all over the hare. 
 
 The magnificent scenery alone kept me up to 
 scratch. For a long while the impressive peaks of the 
 Mittaghorn, Breithorn, and Techingelhorn were in 
 view to the right over Miirren- way, but at last we swung 
 around, and there was the Jungfrau, "Queen of the 
 Alps," staring us in the face. The immense height of 
 the mountain, appreciable only when one has toiled 
 uphill for three hours, and its absolute supremacy over 
 the peaks by which it is surrounded, are indisputably in 
 evidence. The beautifiil Silberhorn, with its snowcap 
 rolled gracefiilly into the shape of a cone, is alone a 
 suitable foil. It wasn't long thereafter before we came 
 to the station-hotel at Wengern Alp. "All in" as we 
 were, Benny, Harry, and I waived the much-needed 
 stimulant of tea until after we had arrived at the Schei- 
 degg. The others stayed as we went on, and I will say 
 
• 173- 
 that the half-hour before we came to the hotel was 
 agony, every step. Harry didn't seem to mind it as 
 much as Benny and I, though we both revived con- 
 siderably when we discovered that the hotel way 
 up on the hill, next the great Eiger glacier, was not 
 the Scheidegg, as we had thought, but an hour's walk 
 further up, and our destination was actually within 
 ten minutes of our reach. Three cups of tea revived us 
 still more, and when the others arrived after a little 
 while, we were quite prepared to begin the descent 
 to Grindelwald. 
 
 The great peaks of Monch, Schreckhorn, and Wet- 
 terhorn in the distance, formed a fine trio on our right; 
 and the dying sun on their snowfields and glaciers, 
 with the purple dark sides of the hills, on the left, 
 made a picture I shall not soon forget. I have forgotten 
 to mention that we saw some splendid avalanches on 
 our way up, their rumbling thunder reaching our ears 
 not too late for us to enjoy the tremendous showers 
 of snow, and, I daresay, stone, that poured over the 
 rocky cliffs of the mountains. These we continued to 
 hear on the way down. Our "going-down" muscles 
 were certainly stiff and sore, and every step on the ex- 
 ceedingly rocky path gave us a jolt that was agony it- 
 self The "Club Man'* and Harry tore along the whole 
 of the two hours* journey and were waiting for us at 
 the bottom when we arrived. A ten-minute weary 
 
• 174 • 
 climb uphill took us to the Hotel Alpenruhe in 
 Grindelwald, and we were stiff, sore, and bruised in 
 every joint when we went to bed that evening, though 
 Pete and I found time to beat each other at a game of 
 checkers, first. It seems to me I won four more francs 
 from Curt that evening, too. 
 
175 
 
 Hotel ''Pension du Qlacier et Foste a Fieschy" 
 
 Fiesch, Switzerland, 
 
 Thursday, September 1, 1910. 
 
 IT is pouring rain again this morning — did you ever 
 hear of such hard luck? — and as we have to engage 
 places once more in the Poste to Brigue, I am utilizing 
 the odd half-hour or so until it arrives from up the 
 valley. So far as I can see, the walking-trip has been sud- 
 denly transformed into a coaching-trip, but I am hop- 
 ing that it will clear again by afternoon so that we canat 
 least walk up to our hotel at the Riffelalp on our ar- 
 rival at Zermatt and not lose a whole day of walking. 
 On the morning of August 29, when we arose from 
 our beds at the Alpenruhe in Grindelwald, there was 
 not one among us who could more than just totter 
 downstairs to breakfast. I didn't see how we could by 
 any chance get as far as Meiringen that night, but once 
 we started, the bruised muscles limbered up a bit. It 
 was at least a consoling thought that whereas on the 
 day before we had climbed some 3800 feet and gone 
 down no less than 2500 in the morning and 3000 more 
 in the afternoon, the Grosse Scheidegg was a climb of 
 only 2700 feet, and the descent to Meiringen about 
 
• 176 • 
 a 4000-foot drop. In other words, we started the ascent 
 some 600 feet higher and had less to climb, the alti- 
 tudes of Lauterbrunnen, Grindelwald, and Meiringen 
 being about 800, 1050, and 600 metres, respectively. 
 The Kleine Scheidegg is some 2069 metres high, while 
 its so-called Grosse, and much less beautiful, brother 
 is registered at 1961. It wasn't any cinch at that, tho* 
 so far as I was concerned it was much the easiest climb 
 of the three days. The reason for that is that "Pinny" 
 and I dropped behind and walked at about the same 
 snail's pace as the German gentleman to whom I have 
 referred on the previous day. 
 
 We had a fairly level walk for about an hour before 
 we reached a pronounced upgrade. We hadn't been 
 gone long before I noticed a farmer or peasant way 
 ahead by the side of the road, blowing a tremendous 
 long curved horn into a box that widened at the other 
 end, and consequently increased the volume of the 
 sound, making the echo reverberate back and forth 
 among the hills. What a nice custom, I thought, or 
 rather, what a practical way to call sheep, for I sup- 
 posed he had some such purpose in view. I didn't find 
 out though, exactly what that purpose was until, as we 
 were passing by, he suddenly dropped the horn and 
 held out his hat. I certainly wasn't looking for any such 
 mercenary exhibition way off there in the country 
 and was quite taken aback. 
 
•177- 
 
 Quite the most interesting thing that we saw dur- 
 ing the morning was the unique funicular that runs al- 
 most to the top of the Wetterhorn, the only moun- 
 tain of any importance that we passed. This consisted 
 of a car that was actually fastened to two long cables 
 stretched from a point in the valley to a little house 
 way up on the mountain of rock. It must be a queer 
 sensation to make this trip, suspended hundreds of 
 feet in the air with absolutely nothing under you but 
 the ground so far beneath. I should like to have taken 
 a ride. How the thing worked — whether the car ran 
 along one of the cables or whether the whole cable 
 moved (which seems more likely), I was unable to de- 
 cipher from our distance away. The glacier that came 
 some distance down from the mountain was also in- 
 teresting, and we were tempted (only tempted) to ac- 
 cept the invitation of a guide to escort us over it to 
 the Scheidegg. 
 
 To come back to the walk: "Pinny" and I moved 
 so slowly that we went quite comfortably to the top 
 in two and a half hours without a single stop, Harry, 
 Benny, and Curt leading us by a few minutes. The old 
 "Club Man" though, didn't fare so well. He started 
 early in the morning way on ahead, hitting quite an in- 
 discreet pace. He tried to keep it up on the hill, but it 
 was too much forhim,and almost an hour from the top, 
 he had the pleasure of seeing Riggs and myself creep 
 
•178- 
 by him — us whom he had left far behind not long 
 before. We arrived some fifteen minutes ahead of him 
 and were all washed and ready for lunch in time to see 
 poor Pete come staggering up the hill to the little ho- 
 tel at the Grosse Scheidegg. The climbing hadn't been 
 so steep nor so hard as the day's before, but the whole 
 walk was rather uninteresting, the scenery and the 
 mountain we climbed being quite dull and monoto- 
 nous compared with what we were already accustomed 
 to. 
 
179 
 
 En route Visp — Zermatt, 
 Thursday, September 1, 1910. 
 XTrrHILE we were eating luncheon, which was 
 \^ neither particularly good nor yet poor, the 
 clear sky of the morning became overcast, and the 
 lowering clouds threatened rain. Accordingly, Pete 
 and I started out on the afternoon's tramp, Benny and 
 Harry deciding to give the dinner a little more time to 
 digest, and "Pinny," who teamed with Curt, coming 
 on at a more leisurely rate. I don't know when I have 
 enjoyed a walk more than on that afternoon. Only the 
 first half hour of it was steep and trying at all on our 
 lame thighs, and for two hours thereafter we kept up 
 a good four-and-a-half to five-mile-an-hour pace down 
 a beautifiil wooded valley, with a splendid rushing 
 torrent beside us that was always interesting. It rained 
 for a long time, but I rather like to walk in the rain 
 myself, and this was really nothing more than a good 
 drizzle, which was easily absorbed by my gray flannel 
 shirt. We stopped a few minutes to watch an unusually 
 large avalanche tear its way down a mountain side, 
 but soon continued our rapid gait along the road, pass- 
 ing many German walkers on the way. It is surprising 
 
•180- 
 bow many women walk, over here, as well as men, 
 carrying packs on their backs, too. 
 
 At last we came to the end of the valley and saw 
 Meiringen a good fifteen hundred feet straight down, 
 nestled in the bottom of another valley that met ours 
 in a right angle. "We wisely decided to follow a short- 
 cut path and came quite unexpectedly upon the won- 
 derful Reichenbach Fall. The stream which we had 
 been following, having gathered volume and speed 
 from the many little tributaries that ran into it, at this 
 point took a tremendous leap of three hundred or 
 four hundred feet over a cliff. Our path led us to a 
 ledge in the rock at the side, at which we were well 
 drenched from the flying spray. What makes these falls 
 particularly beautiful is a piece of the cliff that juts 
 out some eighty or ninety feet below where the water 
 takes its first leap. Striking this with considerable 
 force, the great volume of water is thrown out hori- 
 zontally and dashes down the rest of the long drop 
 with ever-increasing speed in a beautiful column. It 
 looks as if there were innumerable little streams, each 
 striving to outdo the others and reaching farther and 
 farther out from the cliff in successive jumps. It really 
 is quite one of the most wonderful falls I have ever 
 seen. 
 
 Passing on, we came to a little refreshment-house 
 which is continually showered by the spray from the 
 
•181- 
 falls, and which soaked us as well. A hundred yards 
 further on is a hotel, on the verandah of which, over- 
 looking the town of Meiringen, we rested and had 
 our afternoon tea before continuing on down. We 
 were so stiff and footsore we could hardly budge after 
 our rest, though we finally managed to reach the bot- 
 tom by five-thirty, having walked another two and a 
 half hours, covering very nearly twenty miles during 
 the day. The Hotel Briinig wasn't much to speak of, 
 though the rooms were clean, even if small — which 
 is the first essential always. We gave ourselves our 
 daily scrubbing, soaking our tired feet in hot water as 
 well; and then I felt quite like a King. The same is true 
 of Pete, save for a bad ache in one of his wisdom teeth. I 
 had time to write a long letter before Benny and Harry 
 finally showed up in time for dinner, which was at 
 seven. After a good hearty meal, I beat Pete in a game 
 of checkers by eight pieces, and then we bored the 
 others and ourselves in another of interminable length 
 before he finally won by five. 
 
182 
 
 Tuesday, August 30. 
 
 BEFORE essaying the much-dreaded Grimsel, a 
 walk in which we were to climb to a point over 
 seven thousand feet higher by a good deal than we 
 had yet been, Lawrie and Curt sent their packs on 
 ahead by poste. Pete and I had been the only ones to 
 carry them on our backs the day before, and it was 
 rather a good joke on Benny that he should have sent 
 his on, rain cape and all, the very day it rained. At any 
 rate, he and Harry returned to carrying them on this 
 occasion. As usual, we were late in starting, it being 
 very much nearer 11 A.M. than 10 A.M. 
 
 An Englishman advised us to pass through the 
 Gorge of the Aar first, which happened to be right on 
 our way; and indeed it was more than worth the price 
 of admission, one franc. It is easily the most wonder- 
 ful gorge I have ever seen — at least I cannot remem- 
 ber having seen one finer — and we enjoyed the mile- 
 and-a-half tramp through it on the little wooden walk 
 constructed on the side of the rock. The walls of rock 
 on either side show all the evidences of glacier forma- 
 tion and of many centuries in the long process of being 
 cut. They extend up some four hundred or five hun- 
 
• 183 • 
 dred feet in spots, and in some places the gorge is 
 scarcely a yard wide. Curt took some pictures of it 
 with "Pinny's" "Goetz-lens** camera, and I hope they 
 will turn out well. 
 
 It was a road walk all of the nine and a half miles 
 Baedeker calls the distance to Guttanen, which we 
 were striving to reach for lunch, and though the grade 
 was not steep, I was thoroughly tuckered out at the 
 end of three hours, and faint for the want of food. Old 
 Peter, as usual, had started out way in the lead with 
 Harry and "Pinny/* and we were all looking for him to 
 drop back any minute, as he had done before. Even 
 Harry couldn't stand his pace on this morning and 
 dropped back presently to continue more leisurely 
 with Benny, Curt, and myself, leaving Lawrason to flit 
 along all over the road beside the untirable "Club 
 Man." The funny part of it is that Pete actually ii;as un- 
 tirable on this day, and arrived at Guttannen in much 
 better shape than did I or the rest. His tooth pained 
 him quite badly and doubtless he thought that the 
 strenuous exercise would serve in a measure as an anti- 
 dote. We lunched at the HotelHaslital — though "Has 
 -damn-little" would be a better name — for it couldn't 
 furnish very much of anything. What lunch there was 
 (and it really wasn't as bad as I like to make out — you 
 must remember that I was more or less used up at the 
 time) revived me considerably, and I started out soon 
 
•184- 
 after with the little gentleman," Pinny." I first left my 
 packto be carried by the poste,as likewisedidBennyand 
 H. T. C.,and it really made a world of difference. I fairly 
 bubbled with energy now, and we very shortly [caught 
 up with Pete and Curt. The tailenders of the day before 
 again remained behind to give their stomachs a rest. 
 Pete was plodding away, the only one now carrying 
 his pack, and being in the humour for speed, I joined 
 him in the lead, leaving Curt to take charge of" Pinny." 
 It was another good walk, though once again in the 
 drizzling rain, which, however, bothered us little, and 
 we made the Grimsel Hospice in just about two hours 
 and a half, stopping a few minutes at a wayside inn 
 for the invigorating tea that had now come to be an 
 indispensable part of the day's nourishment. Curt, who 
 overtook us at the tea-house, was intensely pleased 
 to learn that the guide and caretaker who runs it, once 
 worked for eight years in the Scranton mines — truly 
 a remarkable coincidence! The Handeck Fall, which 
 we passed en route, was very fine, though not as won- 
 derful as the Riechenbach; but the volume I guess, 
 is as great, or greater. The drop is not as deep, the 
 unique feature of the falls being the confluence of 
 two different streams at this point, so that the roar and 
 the spray are increased twofold. The falls were about 
 all we saw in the way of scenery, as the rain clouds, 
 in the midst of which we walked, effectually screened 
 
•185- 
 everything. Pete, though, who has been over the Pass 
 before, assured me that there was really little to see. 
 Passing on from the tea place, we did the four and a 
 half kilometres to the hotel, still an hour's walk from 
 the top, in an even fifty minutes, having walked a good 
 seventeen and a half miles, mostly uphill, during the 
 day. A hot, more strialy speaking, a luke-cold, bath 
 was welcome at this point, and in the dry clothes 
 brought by the poste and a new pair of slippers, pur- 
 chased on the spot for two and a half francs, I was per- 
 fealy comfortable, and, as usual, in that happy frame 
 of mind that a hard day's tramp always brings. A good 
 dinner, a good pipe, and a good hour's work on my 
 diary, and I was ready for bed at nine-thirty. Poor old 
 Pete, with his toothache, lay awake suffering all night, 
 while I lay deep in sleep. 
 
186 
 
 Hotel National, 
 
 Martigny, 
 
 Friday, September 2. 
 
 I DON'T feel a bit in the spirit of writing to-night, 
 and that is just why I have taken this occasion to 
 write about the two days following our arrival at the 
 Grimsel Hospice, as I don't care to say much about 
 them anyway. They were distinctly an anticlimax af- 
 ter the first four really bully days of walking. Having 
 to take the coach and miss that walk along the Rhone 
 Valley from the top of the Grimsel was something 
 of a damper to start with, and the cold, bleak two 
 hours' ride over the pass and down to Gletsch came 
 to an end none too soon. Merrell and I, with a pleas- 
 ant English traveling-companion (when he wasn't 
 dozing) shivered all of the six miles to the aforemen- 
 tioned place, where we had a hasty and light lunch. 
 It was still raining, though the sky showed signs of 
 clearing, and I tried, with no success, to get some one 
 to walk the nineteen miles or so down the valley to 
 Fiesch. After Benny had bought tickets in another 
 poste, "Pinny" finally woke up and made up his mind 
 he would do it with me — but it was too late, as the 
 
•187- 
 fiery little Frenchman at the Poste office absolutely re- 
 fused to take back two of the tickets. "Pinny" almost 
 got left at Gletsch, running frantically around for his 
 lost wallet, which nestled securely all the while in 
 one of his pockets. Benny and Curt in front were rath- 
 er helpless in their efforts to stop the coach, and we 
 had gone a couple of hundred yards down the road 
 before the frantic yells of the rest of us within finally 
 convinced the coc/ie' that it might be a good thing to 
 bring his horses to a halt. 
 
 I haven't said anything about the Grimsel Pass 
 and the Rhone Glacier, because in the snowstorm at 
 the top we could see scarcely anything, and our 
 glimpse of the long nose of the great ice field hardly 
 gave us an accurate picture of it. The ride in Coach No. 
 2 was equally trying, though warm at least; and the 
 rain stopping soon after we started, "Pinny," Harry, 
 and I got out after an hour and a quarter of it and 
 walked. Benny and Curt likewise did this, though con- 
 siderably later, so that Pete was left: all alone with his 
 splitting toothache to ride the rest of the way to Fiesch. 
 
 We walked about twelve miles — did "Pinny" and 
 I — Harry beating it on alone Vay ahead of us. We 
 were amused to see him plow through deep fields 
 in his many short cuts before he drew out of sight. 
 Once, spotting a church steeple over a hill, he cut off 
 at right angles and made for it, only to find the road 
 
. 188. 
 went noway near it. Rather than cross back and let us 
 gain on him, he stumbled along with long strides over 
 potato patches and through wheat fields for a half mile 
 or more, until he finally could make the road with a 
 respectable distance between us. I didn't enjoy that 
 walk, anyway, keen as I had been for exercise at 
 Gletsch, though this was partly due to a lame ankle 
 that caused me to limp slightly every step of the first 
 hour, but which I finally relieved by slitting the back 
 of the shoe with "Pinny's "penknife. Thelittle clusters 
 of black houses with their one white church and cam- 
 panile-effect steeple, were very picturesque, though I 
 became weary enough before long not to appreciate 
 them. It would have been so much nicer to have been 
 able to go up to the Hotel Jungfrau on the Eggishorn 
 at Fiesch, too, instead of staying down in the valley 
 at the plain and simple little Hotel du Qlacier et Poste a 
 Fiesch, the name being quite the most pretentious 
 thing about it. 
 
 The rain the next morning was discouraging and 
 again we had to resort to the Poste. Of course it cleared 
 again after we had taken our places in the carriage. 
 Benny and Curt occupied the box, and to Harry's and 
 my mind, the only desirable seats. They made the pre- 
 tense that they were better protected against the cold 
 by their capes(?), but we made them match for it, and 
 they won. They generously surrendered them to us for 
 
^ 
 
 •189- 
 the last hour, however. A picked-up lunch at Brigue; a 
 ten-minute ride to Visp; a two-and-a-half-hour pretty 
 journey up the valley to Zermatt, which time, how- 
 ever, I utilized in writing my diary (having seen it all 
 last year), and we were most through the day, which, 
 until that time, had been uninteresting. We ended up 
 by a bully hour and a quarter's hard climb to the 
 Riffelalp, cutting the head porter's time in half, and 
 comfortably, too. Old Platty raced up in an hour like 
 a mountain goat, in spite of the high altitude; but I 
 doubt if, in achieving this feat, he got as much enjoy- 
 ment out of it as did the less ambitious other five. 
 Pete, Harry, and I carried our packs — a good econo- 
 my, in view of the two francs apiece charged against 
 the others. Having arrived at the Riffelalp, Harry 
 and Curt started a movement to go on to the hotel 
 at the Riffelberg, higher up; but the cry finally sub- 
 sided, and we all entered the more fashionable hotel 
 to which we had climbed. 
 
 (I can't write another word to-night, to save my 
 life, so guess I'll quit). 
 
190 
 
 Hotel Splendide, 
 
 Les Praz-de-Chamonix, France, 
 
 Saturday, September 3. 
 
 THIS diary has degenerated lately. I have devoted 
 myself all too largely to dates, heights, distances 
 and other figures, and I am sick enough of it all to be 
 glad to be through. Perhaps it fiilfills its usefiilness 
 as a diary better that way, but it becomes a bore, not 
 only to me, but to any one unfortunate enough to 
 read it. On the other hand, there is a like danger in 
 writing too personally, though I seem to have dodged 
 that pretty well. Reading parts of the diaries of Mark 
 Twain and Henry T. Curtiss has discouraged me, I 
 guess. 
 
 Anyway, we started a discussion at dinner Thursday 
 night at the Riffelalp that led eventually to another 
 unique experience in our European travel, all of 
 which goes to show that a little drink now and then 
 may not be such a bad thing. Harry, Curt, and I slipped 
 a couple of highballs before dinner, and the inspira- 
 tion resulting was a desire to climb the Matterhorn. 
 There was an element of seriousness in it that con- 
 vinced Lawrason it was about time he shook hands 
 
•191- 
 with Pete not to go. The original quartette of travel- 
 ers would have stuck right by the proposition were it 
 financially possible. Investigation shows that the three 
 or four guides necessary must be paid one hundred 
 francs apiece; so it was all off. The Matterhorn would 
 have made a magnificent tombstone for us though, and 
 there is a tinge of disappointment in its ascent not 
 being practicable. I doubt if I shall ever have a chance 
 again like that for a memorial, than which nothing 
 could be more grand. 
 
 The fruit that was born out of the discussion was 
 our acquaintanceship with a Dr. Swan, a very pleasant 
 and large, strapping Englishman, who asked if we 
 could have any use for his two guides, he being un- 
 able to use them as long as he had intended, owing 
 to heart failure he had sustained while climbing a high 
 peak the day before. He suggested our trying the 
 Riffelhorn, a not very high, but strenuous rock, situ- 
 ated between the RifFelberg and the Corner Grat, 
 which would give us a taste, at least, of real climbing. 
 We were not slow to act on his suggestion, especially 
 as the charge was but twelve francs per guide, — and 
 we promptly settled matters with Mr. Vitus Imesch, 
 leaving our shoes to be hobnailed during the night. 
 The excitement of the proposed climb must have 
 played havoc with my mind, for I failed to see jump 
 after jump in three games of checkers with Curtis, and 
 
• 192- 
 he licked me badly, a fact which I didn't mind so 
 much as my having to hand over six francs. At the 
 end of the trip the francs are magnified in value, so 
 that a letter to Harry and myself from the Austrian 
 Lloyd Co. in Trieste, informing us to call in Paris for 
 fifty of the little silver pieces, which they are allowing 
 us on some unused hotel coupons in Ragusa (a rem- 
 nant of our glimpse into the Far East), is being guard- 
 ed most preciously. 
 
 Seven o'clock the next morning came soon enough, 
 and about an hour and a quarter later we started out 
 with Vitus and his assistant (his cousin, by the way) 
 bringing up the rear with long coils of rope over 
 their shoulders. I am tempted to make a cracking 
 good story out of this climb of ours. Curt sent a post- 
 al of the Riffelhorn and the Matterhorn in the distance 
 to his father, remarking that although we ran into a 
 blinding snowstorm at the top, we managed to get a 
 pretty good view of the latter peak. I could well leave 
 that as my comment and the rest for your imagination, 
 but as the primary object of this little book is to tell 
 the truth, I shall reveal the facts of the case. The Rif- 
 felhorn is only a jut of rock out of the ground, some 
 couple of hundred feet high. One can ascend it with 
 considerable ease on his hands and knees by what Dr. 
 Swan referred to as the "nursemaid's route," but there 
 are likewise fourteen or fifteen other ways of varying 
 
\ 
 
 •193- 
 degrees of difficulty. Our guides gave us a sporty 
 climb all right, and for a half hour or so, some of us 
 who were more clumsy, dangled in the air, groping 
 wildly for footholds in the rock, with nothing but 
 the taut rope to hold us up. Sounds as if I were one, 
 though I have in mind a ridiculous picture of "Big 
 Benny" swinging in the air at one thirty-foot perpen- 
 dicular rise; and of little Riggs, who was helped more 
 than once by Curt's engineering of the rope. "Pinny," 
 Curt, and I went with the "cousin," the others with 
 Vitus. At one point we actually started along a ledge 
 on the other side of which the cliff fell away straight 
 for a good four or five hundred feet to the mighty field 
 of ice that makes the Corner Gletscher below. Other- 
 wise the climb was not at all dangerous, though a slip 
 would, of course, have meant considerable bodily 
 discomfort. The guides assured us very tactfiilly 
 that the rock work was harder than that on the Mat- 
 terhorn, which, of course, is infinitely longer. The 
 climb, in fact, was no harder than that which Mason 
 — Harvard 1908 — and I made last year in ascending 
 the Cinque Torri at Cortina in the Dolomites, nor 
 was it near so dangerous as Mt. Aberdeen, back of 
 Lake Louise, which I climbed when in the Canadian 
 Rockies a couple of summers ago. It gave us a good 
 taste of what the "real" climbing is, however, and it 
 was loads of fim scrambling up the few pieces of 
 steep rock by which the guides took us. 
 
•194- 
 
 It was cold as the dickens at the top, and we all 
 took a few swallows of the bottled whiskey that who 
 but Harry had brought along. Vitus thought it was 
 wine, and in one long draught, drank almost half of 
 all that was left. He swore like a trooper in German 
 when his throat and stomach acquainted him of his 
 error, and we all nearly died laughing at the poor 
 man. Vitus is a fine example of the splendid type of 
 man that the good Swiss guide is, and, indeed, if it 
 should ever be in my way to do any climbing over 
 here, I should not be more pleased than to do it with 
 him. 
 
 The sky was overcast, and we got only a poor view 
 of the mountains about us, though the tremendous 
 sea of ice on the other side of the Corner ridge was 
 a feast for our eyes in itself Three or four huge gla- 
 ciers contributed to it, and it certainly is immense, its 
 black moraines too, being bminously impressive. It 
 actually started to snow hard on our way down, 
 which was quite easy. We made our way back to the 
 hotel most leisurely, the whole trip taking but four 
 hours. We were well rewarded by the parting of the 
 clouds and some magnificent views of the Matterhorn 
 which I was most glad to see again. It compensated 
 fully for our not seeing Monte Rosa, and, indeed, 
 words utterly fail to describe that magnificent pointed 
 horn of rock that lifts its head high into the heavens. 
 
•195- 
 For pure sublimity and grandeur, it puts to shame any- 
 mountain I have seen — it is without a rival. Even in 
 its surroundings it stands uniquely alone, as fine a 
 monument on God's earth to His glory as can be 
 found. We never saw it all quite without a cloud, and 
 the white volumes of white cloud-matter that hovered 
 over it or clung persistently to the sides, seeming to 
 issue from its throat like a volcano, added, in fact, to 
 the picturesqueness of the picture. 
 
 I was glad to visit Zermatt again. The impression 
 made on my mind last year is still vivid, and I shall 
 always want to return to the beautiful spot where the 
 mountains are not only grand, but the air is clear and 
 pure — crisp, as at St. Moritz. We went slowly down 
 to the station from the RifFelalp after lunch and had 
 time in the town before our train left to fool around 
 the shops. I purchased a beautiful brown print of the 
 mountain which I have eulogized to the point of 
 sublimity, and outside the shop ran into Fred Ackert, 
 1905, with whom we had a pleasant half-hour chat. 
 More of him in Paris! 
 
 The rest of the day we railroaded to Martigny, 
 about four hours in all, and found lodgings in the 
 Hotel National, which I doubt not at all was the 
 cheapest that could be found. 
 
196 
 
 En route, 
 
 Chamonix, Geneva, 
 
 Sunday, September 4, 1910. 
 
 THERE was a "straight-to-Paris" scare organized 
 by Curtiss and Roome before we essayed the 
 Tete Noire the next morning; but after we had wasted 
 an hour or two trying to make connections by tele- 
 phone with Cook's at Geneva, it blew over and we 
 set out for our pass at the absurd hour of eleven-fif- 
 teen. I wasn't looking forward to it particularly, but 
 feeling very powerful after a long sleep, I soon walked 
 myself into the spirit of climbing. In fact, Harry, Curt, 
 and I broke all our records for speed, and tore up, at 
 what was to me that morning, a bully good pace. My 
 virility may be accounted for by my having sent my 
 pack on to Chatelard by poste, as did we all except 
 Pete, who has obstinately carried it for "exercise" 
 throughout. He suffered this morning once more, and 
 after we had all reached a little wayside cafe at the end 
 of a couple of hours' strenuous work, Pete was still 
 far below, wearily toiling up the hill. Every now and 
 then he would stop and rest, and as he came nearer, I 
 daresay our "guys" and "taunts" didn't help him 
 
•197- 
 much. We made the poor fellow climb up the steep 
 hillside to the house, over potato patches and all, rath- 
 er than telling him of the path farther on; but Peter 
 was good natured about it all, and admitted for the 
 first time that he wished he had sent on his pack. 
 
 The view of the valley in which lies Martigny was 
 very delightfiil, too, as we rested before lunch on the 
 little porch of our inn, this portion of the Valley of 
 the Rhone being unusually flat, square, and pictur- 
 esque, with its small towns set in the midst of verdure, 
 and high hills on the side. The view on the other side 
 of the "Chat Noir" was quite as pleasing to the eye 
 with our return once more to the high peaks and 
 snow fields of the Savoy Alps. The walk down the 
 road to Chatelard through one of the prettiest valleys 
 we have seen, was bully, and I think the whole day, 
 in fact, was one of the most enjoyable, so far as walk- 
 ing is concerned, of the trip. 
 
 We took the electric railway the rest of the way to 
 Les Praz-de-Chamonix, where we put up at the Splen- 
 dide — an exceedingly comfortable, if plain, hotel, 
 presenting a note of introduction from our friend, Dr. 
 Swan. There's really nothing more to say about the 
 day, save possibly a wordy assault on Benny at the 
 dinner table, in which he was everlastingly worsted 
 and "sat upon," and it only remains for me to finish 
 the walking trip up brown — with an account of this 
 morning's tramp. 
 
•198- 
 
 There is a feeling of satisfaction, at least, that on 
 our last day we finally managed to get off on sched- 
 uled time, one hour and a half after being called at 8 
 A.M. If Curtiss had not felt that the responsibilities 
 of his couriership demanded his being on time, I 
 doubt if this unique feat would ever have been accom- 
 plished. We consumed a few interesting minutes first, 
 in watching some climbers of Mont Blanc making 
 their descent across a snow field — the look through 
 the telescope costing cinquante centimes apiece. I say 
 "cinquante" because I think it sounds more imposing 
 than its English equivalent. 
 
 The two hour climb up to the Mer de Glace was 
 a fitting climax to the trip. It was hard and steep, 
 but we walked quite comfortably, and the path was 
 good, and the air cool. Most of the way it was shad- 
 owed by a forest of pines which were at once fragrant 
 and refreshing. At the summit, a long distance up, too, 
 we were met by "Pinny'* who had come up from 
 Chamonix after church by fimicular. We had a short 
 hour in which to tackle this ocean of ice, and we 
 walked out on its frozen surface and back, without 
 anything more exciting happening than the breaking 
 of my cane, and the loss of the same article by Curt, 
 together with his constantly disappearing and reap- 
 pearing belt — which I sincerely hope is now gone 
 for good (?). Curt's only regret was that he couldn't 
 
•199- 
 send his cane down by glacier — as he wanted to 
 leave it anyway — like the one he left in the Palace at 
 Munich, I suppose. 
 
 The Mer de Glace really is quite a fine specimen of 
 the species, glacier — though I feel myself growing 
 blase about such things now. Immense as it is, it 
 doesn't approach the huge fields of the Corner Gletsch- 
 er, though its deep blue-dyed crevasses are quite as 
 fine. It was ticklish business going up to the top of 
 one series of unusually jagged rocks of ice; and com- 
 ing down, I deplored the loss of my cane — but made 
 terra firma (a bit "Varsity," I think, that expression) 
 again with safety. 
 
 It was a new sensation — that of riding down any- 
 thing we had climbed, and it wasn't an unpleasant 
 one, either, for a change. It marked distinctly the end 
 of our tramp, however, though we are still traveling 
 third class on trains till we reach Geneva. The week 
 has certainly been a cheap one, and my expenses have 
 just come to twenty-eight dollars, including every- 
 thing — only four dollars a day, that is. 
 
 Just at present, we are making a rather long ride of 
 it to Geneva, where we plan to spend the night and 
 the day tomorrow, before taking the night train for 
 Paris, if we can get accommodations. An exceedingly 
 fat Frenchman in our compartment has just com- 
 mented extraordinarily, much to every one's amaze- 
 
• 200 • 
 ment, on the facility with which I write in the train, 
 while he, poor man, can't even read. I don't doubt 
 that this is a trick peculiar to myself, but it is no less 
 a practice which I have put to good use, and for which, 
 more than once, I have been truly thankful. 
 
 I am glad at last to be through with the narrative 
 of this tramping trip, which, but for my prolific 
 writings on weeks past, that have caused me to be 
 more or less bored with my task, I might have made 
 more interesting. 
 
201 
 
 Geneva to Paris, 
 Monday, September 5, 1910. 
 
 I SHOULD never have been guilty of the confused 
 series of mathematical statistics (See Appendix 
 " B "), had not the railroad journey been an exceedingly 
 long and tiresome one; and it proved a convenient 
 means of passing the time. As it is, it is rather inter- 
 esting to know that all the climbing we did in ten 
 days would not have taken us to the summit of the 
 highest mountain in the world. 
 
 On taking up my pen again, I realize that nothing 
 has been said of Mont Blanc. We never got a very 
 good view of it, though we saw, once, a beautifully 
 rounded snow ledge which is almost as high as the 
 top. It was not near as impressive, however, as either 
 the Jungfrau or the Matterhorn, and it was quite hard 
 to believe that, firom our hotel at Les Praz-de-Cham- 
 onix, it was some four thousand feet, or more, higher 
 than the Matterhorn from the Riffelalp. Doubtless 
 its greater distance away accounts for this illusion. 
 
 There is one other thing which I have forgotten to 
 mention that Benny is particularly anxious to have 
 in the diary, so, out of deference to his "wishes," I 
 shall relate the incident. 
 
• 202 • 
 
 One of the courses at dinner in the Hotel Splen- 
 dide was a "rhum omelette,'* which, when served, 
 was all aflame from the burning rhum. By the time 
 the dish was served to Benny, the flames had extin- 
 guished themselves, so, before helping himself, what 
 did the young hero do but take out a match and try, 
 ineffectually, however, to relight the fire. He stuck 
 two or three matches into diflFerent parts of the ome- 
 lette and sauce — which must have made it particu- 
 larly appetizing for the ladies at the other end of the 
 table, to whom it yet had to be passed. Benny insists 
 that the latter is not a true statement of the case; but, 
 even then, I can't quite see why he is so proud of the 
 incident. I should have preferred to tell stories more 
 worthy of him — but I have at least carried out his 
 wishes in telling this. 
 
 The impression that Geneva made on me was 
 pretty much nil, so I shall say little of it. It seems to 
 me to be a citified Lucerne, but for mere pleasure I 
 should prefer the latter place. The gambling machines, 
 at either a franc or twenty centimes a throw, interested 
 us more than anything else in the Hotel Bellevue. 
 They interested all of us to the extent often francs or 
 so apiece, save Pete, who kept even. Pete insists that 
 if the rest of us hadn't come around after lunch to-day, 
 he would have come out much ahead. My answer to 
 that is a big ".^". 
 
•203- 
 
 We left in a hurry after lunch to-day and are now 
 journeying to Paris second class; all but Curt, who 
 has left us for the day to visit some friends at Mon- 
 treux, and expects to come on by sleeper to-night. 
 
 I mustn't leave Geneva and Switzerland without 
 mentioning the "ball'* I attended last night I didn't 
 expect to run into another ball this summer, so that 
 this was a pleasant surprise. It happened to be an out- 
 of-door ball, and the pavilion was located only two or 
 three blocks back of the hotel. Perhaps it is just as 
 well it was in the open air, for I should never have 
 been able to penetrate the atmosphere of that society 
 as far as a closed ballroom. The one in question was 
 surrounded on three sides by a picket fence, on the 
 other side of which I had a very comfortable station. 
 It approached the danger mark at times, as the object 
 of many of the dancers seemed to be to sit their ladies 
 on the pickets. This was done successfully several 
 times in close proximity to me, the dames arising as 
 quickly as they could with a not too-closely-muflBied 
 "Ouch," when the game would be played all over 
 again. Another variety of dancing that was very much 
 in evidence, was a rapid whirling of the partners, round 
 and round — always in one direction — the object be- 
 ing to see what couples could make the greatest num- 
 ber of turns before knocking some one else down or 
 being floored themselves. It was a distinct breach of 
 
•204- 
 courtesy for a man to dance without his hat, though 
 it was a mark of unusual accomplishment to be able 
 to keep it intact for one complete number. If these 
 varieties of dancing were not acceptable, it was per- 
 fectly permissible for the man to walk and the girl to 
 dance, or vice versa. Quite a few couples seemed to 
 negotiate this successfully. The most popular dancers, 
 or rather, the partners that seemed to be most singu- 
 larly favored, were those, who by constant application 
 to the pursuits of washing linen or baking bread, were 
 constituted by nature to withstand shocks with scarce- 
 ly a quiver: and, indeed, this type predominated. It, of 
 course, put a special premium on the large mothers 
 of large families; although an interesting feature of 
 the ball was the fact that the young and old "danced*' 
 together with the same fearless abandon, old men 
 hopping about as well as numerous little children. 
 
 The music was furnished by a band — a brass band 
 — that sat at a nearby table laden with steins of beer. 
 It did its "darndest" to drown out the melody (by 
 comparison) of two large organ-boxes stationed in 
 the merry-go-round and flying-swings pavilion at 
 either side — but succeeded in only partly doing so, 
 as only half of the band players played at one time. 
 As each musician laid down his instrument to take a 
 drink whenever he pleased, it not infrequently hap- 
 pened that the same note was not struck in unison by 
 
• 205 • 
 the conscience-stricken members who kept their 
 horns rather than their glasses to their lips. It was all 
 the same, though, to the gay happy-go-lucky crowd 
 that thronged the floor in the manner I have tried to 
 describe. Each piece lasted but a short five minutes, 
 and, directly after, the fire-hose was played on the stage 
 to make it slippery for the next dance. I watched two 
 whole numbers before returning to the hotel with 
 Pete and Harry, and I cannot begin to tell how much 
 pleasure I got from the whole proceedings. I have at 
 least never laughed so hard at a dance before — it was 
 with difficulty I kept the picket fence from piercing 
 my stomach in the midst of contorted laughter. 
 
206 
 
 On board R.M.S. Lusitania, 
 
 En route Liverpool to New York, 
 
 Sunday, September 18, 1910. 
 
 TWO weeks is rather a long lapse of time, but I 
 simply haven't had the "speed" to take up the 
 thread of my diary before this. With renewed vigor, 
 I hasten to bring the narrative up to date, and the fact 
 that the end is only some thirty odd pages away is a 
 decided spur to my clerical efforts. 
 
 Paris! Like London, I hardly know how to go 
 about writing on Paris. I guess some frank title like 
 "War on the Cafes'* would come as near as anything 
 as a paraphrase of our week in the city of dressmakers' 
 and women's delight, but fortunately, our experiences 
 were not wholly confined to this particular field — 
 prominent part as it played. 
 
 In the first place, I have visited Paris no less than 
 three times before, so I cannot write with that gay 
 exhilaration or enthusiasm that novelty often inspires. 
 In fact, I have decided to say little or nothing of Notre 
 Dame, the Louvre, or the Luxembourg, or other 
 places of note that made their most vivid impressions 
 upon me on other occasions. I visited them, of course, 
 
•207- 
 saving only Notre Dame, and the things I noted with 
 pleasure before, it gave me an added delight and ap- 
 preciation to view again. The Luxembourg I visited 
 with Pete and was impressed particularly, as never be- 
 fore, with Henner's picture of "Christ on the Cross," 
 which I prefer above all others on that sacred subject. 
 The beautiful red hair is perhaps idealistic, but a 
 unique and, to my mind, a wonderful feature. Peter, I 
 also escorted through the Gallery of galleries that I 
 have seen — The Louvre, which I also visited enjoy- 
 ably with "Pinny" and Merrell. "Pinny" was a valuable 
 guide, most instructive, and gave me something to 
 think about in the future, with his ideas on Botticelli 
 and the early school, which he holds much superior 
 to the Raphael's, Murillo's, Del Sarto's, etc. that fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 Two buildings on which I failed to refresh my 
 memory last year, deserve mention in the field of 
 sight-seeing — The Madeleine and Napoleon's Tomb. 
 The former is unquestionably one of the finest build- 
 ings or churches I have ever seen, nor does the suita- 
 bility of pagan architecture for a Christian church 
 bother me one bit. Of course, for Lawrason, it is im- 
 possible. There is little to choose between the grand 
 colonnade of Corinthic columns outside and the har- 
 monic splendor and gorgeousness of the interior — it 
 is all so perfealy and tastefully in keeping. The Tomb 
 
• 208 • 
 of Napoleon, in the Hotel des Invalides, partakes of 
 the same rich splendor and gorgeous shimmer of 
 golden light that floods the rich high altar, striking 
 the eye from without the entrance, is quite beyond 
 description. As one looks down on the great impres- 
 sive tomb of the greatest warrior the world has 
 known, and sees the torn and frayed battle flags on 
 every side, there is nothing to be said. A feeling of 
 awe steals over you and you gaze silently. 
 
 We were most comfortable, as well as fortunate, in 
 our quarters in Paris. The Continental couldn't give 
 us rooms, but in the Hotel Dominici, almost next 
 door, on the Rue de Castiglione, we had a whole 
 suite of rooms on the top floor for only five francs 
 apiece per day. It was very central for us, too, but 
 then, we were very seldom there during the day. As 
 in the other large cities, we found it more to our 
 advantage to break up in twos or threes and meet for 
 tea or meals, although we didn't always manage to do 
 even that. "Fussing" engagements proved the most 
 disconcertmg to the success of our striving after unity. 
 Benny and Pete rushed at once to the "fair Eleanor," 
 whilst Harry lost no time in getting a good start for 
 the affections of Miss Johnson, who figured at Lu- 
 cerne, you will remember. "Pinny" was his only com- 
 petitor for a while, but, as his method of wooing by 
 knitting ties is a trifle slow, he has not yet become 
 
•209- 
 dangerous. Harry is quite persevering, and I imagine 
 got on pretty well, though such a rebuff as having the 
 lady ask after Mr. Curtiss the first time he took her to 
 tea, would have overcome any ordinary man. But 
 then, Mr. H. T. Curtiss is pretty much "hell with the 
 ladies" (pardon the expression), and it didn't bother 
 him as much, perhaps, as it should. With Eleanor on 
 the ocean reading a couple of fat steamer letters, Benny 
 and Curt, who ever hang on in the hope of some day 
 finding the girl, turned their attention to the Johnson 
 lady, and the four of them planned a dinner and 
 theatre party to Carmen for Wednesday evening, 
 which was their sole topic of discussion for the next 
 twenty-four hours. Pete and I stayed out for financial 
 reasons, though we had got "in most wrong" by 
 not writing Mrs. Johnson notes upon leaving Lu- 
 cerne. The decision at one time was unanimous not 
 to do so, but the other people changed their minds 
 and eliminated competition effectually by keeping it 
 to themselves. The fiinny part of the story is that, 
 after most elaborate preparations, with the question 
 as to the suitability of champagne, white wine, red, or 
 any other kind of wine finally settled, the party ended 
 up with back seats in the distinctly odorous very top 
 tier of the Opera Comique. The seats only cost four 
 francs each — which isn't "done" for the Opera, you 
 know, although Harry and "Pin" had quite conscien- 
 tiously paid twelve for them. 
 
•210- 
 
 Pete and I meanwhile had had a "free" dinner at 
 the Majestic with my family, and had afterwards en- 
 joyed an evening at the "Moulin Rouge," where we 
 were entertained (?) by many songs and divers sporty 
 (to say the least) costumes. Many of the ladies who 
 stood in the audience tried to entertain us by making 
 our acquaintance, and though they were persistent, 
 we refused firmly, but gently, the questionable pleasure 
 of their questionable society — I guess either will do 
 all right. Furthermore, our discretion in refraining 
 from entertaining the Johnsons, procured us a further 
 invitation from the family to take them to "Salome," 
 which we subsequently did on Friday evening, and 
 Lawrie with us. I expected to have my ears torn asun- 
 der by the clarion of trumpets, din of horns, and gen- 
 eral inharmonic clatter of the orchestra, but was most 
 pleasantly surprised to find the music soft and beau- 
 tiful, if not exactly melodious. I wasn't quite worked 
 up to the pitch of nervous excitement and frenzy in 
 which we found Tom Achelis 1908, and a Beaux 
 Arts friend, at the end of the opera. Marvelling greatly 
 at their agonized exuberation, I asked the friend if his 
 taste was cultivated, or if he liked the music when 
 first he heard it. 
 
 "Ah!", he said, "I loved'" (great emphasis on the 
 loved'), "I loved it from the first." 
 
 This same gentleman wore a monocle, oh, very 
 
•211- 
 cleverly in his eye — but otherwise was really a very 
 interesting sort of American, and a Harvard man. 
 
 Some one, when asked concerning our party, made 
 a remark to the effect that we were spending ail our 
 time taking different girls to tea. We began to live 
 down that reputation halfway through the week — 
 but, nevertheless, it isn't far from the truth. Speaking 
 for myself, I was that reckless but twice, taking Isabel 
 Ide to the Carlton one time — a pleasant visit — and, 
 the next day with Pete, taking Frances and Auntie to 
 Rumpelmayer's. Rumpelmayer's is fascinating — the 
 jam after four-thirty being the only drawback. It's 
 good fun to take your own plate and pick out your own 
 little cakes, after laborious deliberation — for there is 
 little choice among their all-tempting varieties. The 
 muffins, too, are delicious, though Columbin's are 
 quite as good. You see, I am now a connoisseur on 
 tea-houses and restaurants. Indeed, we all are, for is 
 there any specialty in Paris we have not sampled? Ah, 
 yes — Margery sole — but with that exception, we 
 have done things up as brown as we did in good old 
 Munich. Vatel's rum-cooked and rolled pan-cakes, 
 caviar (what caviar!) on toast at 11 A.M., at a little 
 place on the Rue de la Paix, Boeuf a la Mode — well 
 done, but tender as sweetbread, Henri's rolled veal 
 and some wonderful kind of eggs — by no means for- 
 getting those strawberries in Devonshire cream — 
 
•212- 
 pressed duck at the Tour D'Argent, quite unlike any 
 duck I have ever tasted, and oh! how good and rich! 
 I'm getting hungry rapidly, so I'll stop right there, as 
 it is still three hours from dinner time. How our 
 stomachs ever stood the strain is quite beyond my 
 comprehension, unless privation on the walking trip 
 made them feel like reveling a bit. 
 
 Then there was one party at the Cafe de Paris which 
 I have saved for the last, and with it 1 take pleasure in 
 introducing the name of one who did much to make 
 our stay in Paris a distinct success — one whom I, and 
 I daresay every one of us likewise, am pleased to con- 
 sider a very good friend — namely, Fred Ackert, 1905, 
 for it was he that gave us a wonderful party on the 
 evening of Thursday, September eighth, starting 
 with a private dinner at the above restaurant. It's a 
 veritable wonder the party ever had a finish, for there 
 wasn't one among us who could do any more than 
 just move, when we had finished that too-delicious 
 repast. Fred took us to the Folies Bergere, blew us to 
 a couple of cigars apiece, and, in short, treated us to 
 a fine show, of which the principal features were an 
 exceedingly fimny American juggler and a dancing 
 skit containing a Salome dance that was quite the 
 real thing in the line of Salome dances! Mary Garden, 
 I forgot to mention, was wonderfiil in her dance, but 
 the two were different in more than one respect. I : 
 
•213 • 
 hope you notice that in Paris I am leaving a good 
 deal to your imagination. I shall continue to pursue 
 that same policy, being on the other hand, quite frank 
 when I don't choose to insinuate. 
 
 Of Paris, there remains to describe (?) only our ex- 
 periences with that side of life which all of us, save 
 "Pinny/* think is an instructive, broadening, and, at 
 least, not harmful part of a man's education. I refer, in 
 general to the life of Montmartre — the brilliant gay 
 cafes, the lively and tuneful music of the Hungarian 
 orchestras (one of the most attractive features), the 
 often hilarious champagne parties, the dancing among 
 the tables — too often indecent from our standard — 
 etc. We had two nights of it — Tuesday and Saturday 
 — and I shan't either forget or regret them. Both nights 
 we dined at Weber's and sat till quite late listening to 
 the bully orchestra, which, for the consideration of a 
 few francs, played "The Druid's Prayer," "Valse 
 Brune," "A Bunch of Roses," and "The Geischedene 
 Frau" to our utmost satisfaction. Skinny Connell 
 made the sixth member of the party Tuesday, and 
 Fred Ackert on Saturday. 
 
 The first night we started out rather poorly at the 
 "Bal Tabarin," at least for me — but I finally man- 
 aged to get into the spirit of the occasion and en- 
 joyed myself It was fun, too, dancing with a few of 
 these French girls — quite a new experience, I can say 
 
•214. 
 honestly enough, and most of them can "Boston" 
 like a breeze — so we got along fairly well. Save for 
 the thrill of a new experience, there wasn't much 
 speed at the "Bal Tabarin," and we moved presently 
 to the richly furnished and much more attractive "Al- 
 baye," and later to the "Rat Mort," where some of us 
 danced some more. It was really a poor night at all the 
 cafes. Benny left us, and after peeping into the "Roy- 
 ale," the rest of us moved to the "Americaine" where 
 we stayed for half an hour and got away without even 
 buying a drink. The attraction for that period was one 
 girl (exceedingly homely, but good figure!) who was 
 light as a feather on her feet, and with whom we en- 
 joyed dancing the "Boston" in turn, that is, Harry, 
 Skin, and I did, for Pete and Curt were anxious to 
 leave. "We soon did — but Maxim's looked lifeless, so 
 Curt and I walked on home to bed about 3 or 3-30 
 A.M., leaving the others to fool around till quite time 
 for an ordinary man's breakfast. 
 
 Saturday night was quite different, and twice the 
 fun at the cafes, though my good time was limited to 
 the "Bal Tabarin." We got a guide, an exceedingly 
 nice-looking young fellow, to take us around to some 
 other places — though I think that part of our even- 
 ing is already mentioned at sufficient length, and then 
 we came back to the "Bal Tabarin." Saturday is a fete 
 night, and fete night at the "Bal Tabarin" is quite 
 different from other nights. 
 
215 
 
 Continued on board 
 
 R.M.S. Lusitania, 
 
 Monday, September 19. 
 
 IT is indeed a gala scene. The large crowd present 
 on such an occasion is a good-natured one that 
 confines its amusement very largely to the throwing 
 of great quantities of streamers and confetti. The 
 dance hall is fairly bedecked with it, and the whole 
 scene is a gay and hilarious one, conducive to a good 
 time. I certainly had my share of the fun, though I 
 confined my attention for a long while to a single 
 young demoiselle who, I discovered, could dance 
 very well. Much paint and purple eyes made her — 
 well, not especially good to look upon — but her 
 dancing made that endurable for once. A few rounds 
 of high balls at the bar made me, at least, oblivious to 
 her looks, which my speech continually denied. She 
 could speak not a word of English, so our conversa- 
 tion was limited to many " Vous etes tres jolies" or 
 " Vous dansez tres bien" on my part, and incoherent 
 giggles on hers. She seemed to enjoy the ices I treated 
 her to quite as much as the dancing. It seems to me 
 that E. T. Williams showed more than his usual 
 
•216- 
 speed on this evening; but then, one can be young 
 but once, and I am glad my youthful capers are bound- 
 ed by no further limit than my experiences on Satur- 
 day, September 10. 
 
 I left her when the parade of floats began, at about 
 twelve-thirty, decorated principally by scantily clad 
 women, and amused myself during that rather boring 
 procedure, which I had seen last year, by assisting 
 gentlemen, who were so rude as to wear their hats on 
 the staircase to the gallery, to remove them. I did this 
 successfully five or six times without their succeeding 
 in finding out to whom they owed their thanks, much 
 to my own delight and that of Dummy Logan, 
 Skinny, and Curt, stationed in a box above. Then, 
 having had all the fiin I cared for. Curt, Fred, and I 
 decided to go home, which we did, after glancing for 
 a moment at the "Abbaye." Benny followed soon 
 after, but Pete, Harry, and the Logan-Connell-Hotch- 
 kiss bunch continued the rounds till early morning 
 and had "an time," I understand. 
 
 Sunday noon I had lunch with the family, and af- 
 ter bidding them good-bye, joined the troupe in a 
 visit to Versailles, chiefly to see the fountains play. 
 They didn't, so Harry, Pete, and I strolled around 
 the exquisite woods and gardens, listened for a while 
 to a band concert, and when we finally gathered speed 
 enough to do some sight-seeing, found out that the 
 
•217- 
 Palace and Petit Trianon close at five. We had but a 
 few minutes to scan the battle pictures of Napoleon 
 and never saw the Little Trianon at all. Some perfect- 
 ly vile tea at a road-house didn't add to the success of 
 the trip. We missed the others also on the way back 
 to Paris, so went straight to the Tour D'Argent, 
 where we expected they would join us, though in 
 reality they waited an hour or so for us at the Domi- 
 nici first. The wonderfiil dinner there, however, put 
 us all in good spirits, even if it was a little trying on 
 our bodily comfort. The old gentleman — "Frederic 
 somebody" — who runs the place, takes a personal 
 pride in pressing the duck. I think he does it for the 
 pleasure he gets in trying to blowout the alcohol stove 
 or chafing dish, which he does at imminent risk to his 
 beard. The flames have already eaten the middle of it, 
 for it hangs upon his chin in two folds which fit quite 
 neatly on either side of the flame. 
 
 So much for Paris — and I think I have given a fairly 
 accurate description of my experiences there. I might 
 have mentioned that I bought a dress waistcoat and 
 some shirts at Jourdain & Brown's and invested in 
 three three-dollar ties at Charvet's (which I vowed in 
 1909 never to enter), with some money Mother gave 
 me for an unpaid Christmas present. Fred Ackert is re- 
 sponsible for very much of my good times there, and 
 it was really great seeing so much of him. It was he, 
 
• 218 • 
 too, who introduced us to many of the delicacies I 
 have mentioned. He came to see us off on the nine- 
 fifty for London, Monday morning, and presented us 
 with a box of bully Hoyo de Montereys. 
 
 One of these, I fear, came near being the cause of 
 my downfall on the Channel, but I got it overboard 
 in due time, and speedily recovered. Harry made one 
 of his free-and-frank-speech remarks during that un- 
 interesting journey. He was walking with Pete and 
 spied a frigate on the high seas under full sail, just as 
 a couple more in female attire happened to pass them 
 on the deck. "My, she's got a bellyful of wind, 
 hasn't she?" said H. T. C, and they tell me the ladies 
 were quite upset. That isn't half so bad as the remark 
 he got off in the 'bus to the station at Geneva, but 
 delicacy forbids my telling it. 
 
 It was a new sensation, traveling first class on the 
 Cunard Line, our tickets being given to us, so that 
 the journey on the whole was most pleasant, though 
 the plush club man, more unfortunate, occupied a 
 second class compartment. 
 
 We broke our journey at Canterbury, and a truly 
 line thing for us it turned out to be. 
 
•219 
 
 R.M.S. Lusitarda, 
 Tuesday, September 20, 1910. 
 
 IT was a relief to be back once more in an English- 
 speaking land, where if one wanted a match he 
 had only to ask for a match to get it, and not have to 
 inquire for an "allumette," and think for ten minutes, 
 beforehand whether to say "eh" or *'oon/* Then 
 Canterbury was a good place to start in, for it not only 
 broke the long journey, but it proved to be in itself a 
 treat. It seems to me that Canterbury is about the first 
 name in English history with which I was acquainted 
 — at least it impressed me most — and I have always 
 longed to see it. Nor did the actual impression of it 
 fail to surpass the expectation (I still remember my 
 Caesar!). Its central tower is more beautiful by far than 
 any other I have seen, and is quite as inspiring in its 
 grandeur and magnificence, as is the long, tall spire 
 of Salisbury. The choir within is no less wonderful of 
 its kind, but the greatest interest for me was historical. 
 Here I seemed to find all of the few people or incidents 
 in the history of England with which I can claim even a 
 respectable acquaintance. We saw the place where 
 stood the shrine of that martyr, Thomas a Becket — 
 
•220- 
 the very place before which Chaucer's pilgrims paid 
 their homage; we saw the tombs of many of the old 
 Archbishops who have crowned England's Kings; 
 we saw the original King James Bible, the translation 
 which the English-speaking world uses to this day; 
 we saw the tomb of Henry IV and his Queen — that 
 Henry of whom Shakespeare has given us an intimate 
 picture — the father of Prince Hal; and we saw the 
 impressive tomb of the conqueror of Poitiers and 
 Cressy — Edward, the Black Prince, the ideal figure of 
 all English History, I daresay, to the average school- 
 boy. He was always my favorite, and there he lay be- 
 fore us in a fine suit of armor. The very shield and 
 breastplate he wore hang suspended from the wall 
 above the tomb. What need to mention more — the 
 interesting crypt, the pretty Lady Chapel with its 
 delicate fan-tracery, or the remnants of the old mon- 
 astery outlying the cathedral grounds? It was all deep- 
 ly impressive. 
 
 We reached London about 9 P.M. and got comfort- 
 ably settled in the Hotel Metropole — a vast improve- 
 ment over the Cecil — and the whole day was polished 
 off nicely — for Benny and me — by our buying ad- 
 mission to the "Tivoli'* in time to hear Harry Lauder's 
 act. I had never heard him before, and I am glad we 
 worked it in on our way to get our luggage out of the 
 Charing Cross customs. Again a high expectation 
 was not disappointed. 
 
.221- 
 A few words will serve for London on our second 
 visit. Shopping is the word to summarize it. We had a 
 lunch one day at the Trocadero (Skinny and Fred and 
 Pete and I), a dinner at the Metropole, and all other 
 meals at our friend, Simpson's. The rest of the time we 
 shopped. I bought so many collars, ties, 'socks, shirts, 
 etc. that, at the end of the day, I could scarcely walk 
 by a shop window without an impulse to enter and 
 "crash" a bit more. The hardest task was to find a 
 cigarette case for Harvey. One must know Harvey to 
 appreciate my difficulty. I managed to work in a little 
 sight-seeing on the side and revisited both the Tate 
 and National Portrait Galleries. I spent a bully two 
 hours by myself in the former, and visited the latter 
 quite as enjoyably with Benny, with whom I also took 
 in the National Gallery, of which I much prefer that 
 wonderful school of painting that comprises Rey- 
 nolds, Gainsborough, Romney and Raeburn. In the 
 evening, of course, we frequented the theatres. "The 
 Chocolate Soldier,** we saw infinitely better given than 
 in New York. The music by Strauss is quite the best 
 I have ever heard in comic opera. It is really light 
 opera — as "Pinny** says, worthy of Offenbach. Charles 
 Hawtrey, in a pleasing comedy, "The Naked Truth," 
 was very good, and "The Whip,'* quite the finest 
 melodrama I have ever seen, was entertaining, excit- 
 ing, and thrilling to the core. That checks up London! 
 
• 222 • 
 
 "We left for Liverpool on the twelve-ten Friday 
 morning, the sixteenth. How we made the train, 
 goodness only knows, for no one was ready till a half 
 hour after we were supposed to leave the hotel. It was 
 a frantic rush — that getting packed and off — in which 
 S.M.C. and H.T.C. experienced the most trouble. Pete 
 stayed over to try to book a berth on the Lusitania 
 in one of our state-rooms, and Curt, "Pinny/* and I 
 finally started alone in the bus. "We had gone about a 
 square, when Benny and Harry appeared at the hotel 
 entrance — then dashed down the street after us. We 
 got on the train, too, in the very nick of time, and 
 with all our luggage, which was a relief, though 
 Benny had to wait over because a new coat hadn't 
 come. 
 
 "Pinny" stayed in Liverpool to see some cousins, so 
 only Harry, Curt, and I were left of the party to go 
 on to Chester in Wales, where we had planned to 
 spend the night. We went third class, too. Harry re- 
 marked in the crowded compartment that it would 
 be nice to get out in the country for a quiet rest, but 
 we found Chester quite a city. The proprietress of the 
 "Grosvenor" assured us that Benny, who hoped to 
 join us at seven, couldn't possibly arrive before eight- 
 thirty, so we sauntered out to look over the interest- 
 ing old town. The old wall, considerably renovated, 
 I presume, runs right through the city, completely 
 
•223- 
 surrounding the old part of it. Some of the old houses 
 are most picturesque, though the most unique feature, 
 to my mind, is the old "rows." Some of the streets 
 have a continued balcony or gallery on either side 
 that runs outside the second story of the houses, so 
 that there are, in reality, two layers of shops (and 
 streets, too, save for the road), one placed directly 
 over the other. Finding that the Crossed Keys Tavern, 
 to which we had been recommended, was closed, we 
 finally had a little supper with a couple of bottles of 
 ale, just to our satisfaaion, in Bolland's Cafe. We had 
 a darned good bicker, too, which detained us till a 
 quarter to nine before getting back to our hotel — 
 where we found that poor old Benny had been wait- 
 ing for us since six- thirty — another of those unfortu- 
 nate misunderstandings that have dotted our summer 
 at not infrequent intervals. 
 
 We had just time in the morning to get a glimpse 
 of the Chester Cathedral — built of brown granite — • 
 (very pretty, I thought), before our train left for 
 Wrexham — a pilgrimage we decided to make out of 
 respect for Elihu Yale, who was once a member of 
 that parish. The old St. Giles's church there contains 
 several tablets to the memory of his ancestors, and a 
 picture reputed to be by Rubens, which he himself 
 gave. Most interesting is a brass placque inserted by 
 Yale University, which furnished funds to rebuild, or 
 
•224- 
 rather restore, an old arch in the entrance in memory 
 of its founder. "We got hold of the sexton, who 
 brought out a Yale register which the four of us 
 signed. He also showed us the grave of old Eli, in 
 front of which we took our own photographs. The 
 slabstone (the original one was sent to New Haven 
 some time ago, but has never been brought to light), 
 contains the following interesting epitaph : 
 
 "Born in America, in Europe bred, 
 In Africa travelled, and in Asia wed, 
 Where long he lived and thrived; in London dead. 
 Much good, some ill he did, so hope's all even, 
 And that his soul, thro* mercy's gone to heaven. 
 You that survive and read this tale take care 
 For this most certain exit to prepare. 
 Where, blest in peace, the actions of the just 
 Smell sweet and blossom in the silent dust." 
 
 It was, needless to say, a peculiarly interesting 
 morning and made a fitting end to this wonderful 
 summer's trip. We did a simple thing in the after- 
 noon by procuring tickets to see George Richardson 
 off on the Baltic, when, if we had only thought, we 
 would have realized that he got on at Queenstown. 
 "We also saw some fine pictures in the Liverpool Gal- 
 lery, chief among them '^Dante's Dream " by Rossetti, 
 and the "Meeting of Dante and Beatrice" by Holiday. 
 Too much surrounding color in the latter destroys 
 
• 225 • 
 the effect of the gorgeous red and yellow robes of 
 Beatrice and her friend. We had said good-bye to 
 Lawrie before, so it only remained for us to get on 
 the Lusitania before we should be off. 
 
226 
 
 R.M.S. Lusitania, 
 Thursday, September 22, 1910. 
 
 I SEE that it will be impossible for me, after all, to 
 finish the narrative of our trip abroad within the 
 limits of this little book, so, having reconciled my- 
 self to adding a few odd pages on my arrival in New 
 York — just to check up the trip home — I shall finish 
 this volume with a couple of stories incident to our 
 last day in England that are altogether too good to 
 omit. 
 
 The first is one of the best practical jokes of the 
 trip. It had a double turn, too, that H.T.C. couldn't 
 exactly appreciate at the time, so that Benny and I 
 enjoyed the whole situation to the very limit of its 
 possibilities. 
 
 Harry had left his purse with a twenty-shilling gold 
 piece in his room at the "Grosvenor," Chester. Be- 
 fore leaving for "Wrexham, it had been discovered by 
 one of the maids and the proprietress turned it over 
 to me. Harry discovered his loss on the train and gave 
 vent to several frenzied exclamations, as he had lost 
 but a few days before a twenty-franc piece similarly in 
 Paris. We had but a ten-minute connection on our 
 
•227- 
 return to Chester, so all of the return journey we en- 
 joyed Harry's preparations to make a mad rush to the 
 hotel and back in time for the train. 
 
 Then, in changing compartments on the way. Curt 
 left his brand new "plush" London derby in the car 
 — which Harry discovering, hid in the folds of his 
 overcoat. The train no sooner started than Curt too, 
 discovered his loss, and I have scarcely seen a more 
 ludicrous scene in my life. It was especially good on 
 Curt, as all summer he has continually lost things — 
 either his belt or his camera — which have inevitably 
 turned up in some one of the party's hands. Curt has 
 finally adopted the attitude that everything he missed 
 or forgot, one of us would have; so it was good to 
 fool him once. Then, Harry too, was doubled up 
 laughing at Curt, when Benny and I had his "pound" 
 all the time. 
 
 Arrived at Chester, we gave Harry his gold coin, 
 as he didn't have time to get to the hotel, but Curt's 
 hat was still a puzzle to him. He had the guards search 
 for it, and at Birkenhead, where we took the ferry for 
 Liverpool, he waited over half an hour to look for 
 it, but, of course, couldn't find it. "I knew you people 
 didn't have it, because your laughter was so sponta- 
 neous," he said, and again we laughed!!! The best part 
 of it is that I managed to smuggle the derby on board 
 the Lusitania with Curt unsuspicious and having aban- 
 
•228- 
 doned hope, though it was with difficulty Harry and 
 Benny kept him from buying a new derby in Liver- 
 pool. Every day he has regretted his loss, and only 
 this afternoon he lamented his having to land in a 
 straw hat. Curt's got a good surprise in store for him 
 at about 9 P.M. I can just see him now throwing out a 
 bluff — "Why, I knew you people had it all the time." 
 
229 
 
 Oak Farm, Greenwich, Connecticut, 
 Monday, September 26, 1910. 
 
 HOME at last, and in the home — charming 
 home — of one of my traveling companions, 
 it only remains for me to put the finishing touches 
 on the Diary of our Continental Tour and retire, I 
 hope not ungracefully into the busy world of business. 
 
 R.M.S. Lusitania — it only remained for H.T.Curtiss 
 to start us off with a Bon Mot — which he certainly 
 did. 
 
 In the good old college days, we used to tell Harry 
 that he built the Lusitania until he almost came to be- 
 lieve it himself Knowing all the ins and outs of the 
 ship, he was right in his element, when Benny, with 
 a little card in his hand telling him about it, asked 
 what was her ton displacement. 
 
 "Let's see," said Harry, "75,000 horse power — 
 why, it's about 125,000 " — whereupon soft laughter 
 was heard in the distance. "Well, I know damn well 
 it's 125,000 — you can't tell me, etc.," burst from the 
 lips of the rapidly excited youth. Great was his chagrin 
 at this most important of exaggerations when he 
 learned the figures for the largest boat afloat were but 
 
•230- 
 32,000. Harry vowed to get sore should any one men- 
 tion it again, but not even that dire threat helped 
 much. 
 
 It was a great treat, though, to travel on a really 
 "plush" boat. Peter got on all right too, and arrived 
 by the special to find his sofa berth in Benny's and 
 Curt's room was the best of the three. Great, large, 
 spacious staterooms, too, with forced draught and 
 electric fans to ventilate them; for they were inside — 
 but most comfortable all the same. Then the hand- 
 some smoking room with its stained glass windows 
 and mahogany furnishings — the attraaive outdoor 
 smoking verandah — the lightly furnished lounge and 
 writing rooms — all were most in keeping and appro- 
 priate for the twin sister of the fastest boat on the 
 ocean. 
 
 All was fine for our having a great time save the 
 all-important crowd. It was a pretty interesting look- 
 ing ship's company — but it didn't do us much good 
 as there was a woful dearth of young people of the 
 opposite sex. We met a nice-appearing Princeton 
 Junior — Devereaux, from New York, and there were 
 also on board, Fuller Barnes and Mort Treadway 1910, 
 and Ed. Hara 1911, from our own college — but we 
 saw very little of them and played almost entirely 
 with ourselves. Loomis Havemeyer 1910S, stuck 
 Curt, Benny, and myself for a coffee party with some 
 
•231- 
 friends of his one evening, that was prolonged actually 
 till after eleven, long past the stage of boredom to one 
 approaching desperation. Miss Hooker and I were 
 quite talked out before ten, and the last hour was 
 pretty much "hell.'* I didn't risk another conversation 
 with her during the trip. 
 
 There were quite a few celebrities on board ship, 
 Hugh Black, George Vincent *85 — Dean of Chicago 
 and head of the Chautauqua movement, Kermit 
 Roosevelt, who gets in because he "gets his name 
 from his father," and several prominent actresses. I 
 introduced myself to Mr. Vincent one day, and an 
 evening or so later, we all had a very interesting chat 
 with him. He is a splendid, fine man in appearance 
 and speech, reminding me very much of Jim Boyd*s 
 father. Of all the rest of the crew, there only remains 
 to be noted a Mrs. Clark and a Miss Barton, who sat, 
 not far from us, at the Captain's table. They were 
 quite the best things in the female line I have seen in 
 many a day. We feasted our eyes on them every meal 
 — but never got any more satisfaction than just that. 
 Miss Barton was a beauty, and when she appeared in 
 that black evening dress of hers, all eyes turned in her 
 direction. Mrs. Clark had a certain indescribable, but 
 much-to-be-admired, something that her friend just 
 lacked, and was quite as fascinating — more sd, in faa 
 — in her way. We had quite a shock, later, when we 
 
•232- 
 heard her say one day she had lost twenty dollars play- 
 ing cards — though the greater one came when we 
 learned that she has been married fourteen years. I 
 wouldn't object at all to having my wife look like that 
 after fourteen years. 
 
 We needn't criticise the card playing so much, 
 though, as we were most guilty ourselves. Monday 
 night the poker games started again — eight-thirty to 
 ten every evening, and I'll be darned if I didn't lose 
 again every evening. Of course, I don't pretend to be a 
 poker player, but I should hope I was at least better 
 than J. Curtis Piatt, who actually holds up two and 
 three spots and calls for four cards. One time, with 
 the seven, nine, three, and four of various suits in his 
 hand, he held them all and drew one more. And yet 
 he came out ahead on the three evenings, and I lost 
 about thirteen dollars. Guess it's a warning to me to 
 cut out gambling! 
 
 We had bully seats on the port, or southern, deck — 
 which, however, we didn't use as much as we might 
 have — and also a bully little table for four in the 
 centre of the lower Dining Saloon. One of us, there- 
 fore, had to use an odd seat at a side table, and out of 
 my experience there the first day, arose one of the 
 funniest incidents of the whole summer. 
 
 My right-hand neighbor, named Routh, was a very 
 interesting young Englishman, a graduate of Cam- 
 
•233- 
 bridge, who comes over to teach at Toronto every 
 year. I afterwards came to consider him something of 
 a conceited, "smart Alec*' — "don-cher-know," but 
 I had two very interesting talks with him on the day 
 that I was " eating out.'* "We were talking about games, 
 exercise, etc., and he asked me if I ever boxed. I said 
 "No," and he went on to tell me how he always car- 
 ried a pair of gloves with him, said he was "beastly 
 rotten" himself — but it was awfully good exercise, 
 and asked me if I wouldn't try it with him. How he 
 ever persuaded me, I don't know, but he did, and I 
 finally left him, drew up a chair with the other fellows, 
 and at once proceeded to tell them how I had ac- 
 cepted a challenge for the morrow. Our little cock- 
 ney combination bath-and-table-steward, overhearing, 
 asked if I meant " 'im over there," pointing to my 
 English acquaintance. I verified him as the one, where- 
 upon the steward said as calm as you please, '"e was 
 knocking 'em about on the last trip." When the mat- 
 ter was finally explained, we learned that Mr. Routh 
 was a pugilistic artist of no mean ability — in fact, 
 stewards, stokers, firemen were all alike to him — and 
 that he knocked 'em about at will. One poor steerage 
 passenger, who ventured a "go" with him, had his 
 nose so smashed that his sweetheart refiised to own 
 him on his arrival, and called off the engagement. 
 "How did that happen?" we asked. "O, *e 'it 'im and 
 
• 234 • 
 'e 'it the floor/' said the steward, and then, perfectly 
 serious, not a smile on his face, he went on throwing 
 out these remarks for my benefit. "You can't gtt no 
 consolation either," he said — then, after a pause — 
 "you can't 'it 'im." I, no less than any one else, appre- 
 ciated the humor of my situation, and, indeed, for 
 many minutes, we were all tied up in knots of laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 I got out of it nicely, without loss of honor or 
 credit, the next morning, by "sicking" Mr. Routh on 
 to Peter, who, having once taken lessons, I said, could 
 give him a much better "go." Benny assured him of 
 the same thing at the table, so we all had the rather 
 mean pleasure of hearing Pete make a most complete 
 backdown when confronted by Routh in front of us all. 
 I would almost have taken him on myself rather than 
 crawl in front of the rest of our bunch; but, I daresay 
 Pete didn't see it quite that way. 
 
 That table-steward, by the way, was a little "corker" 
 and edified us often at our meals by his humorous 
 comments on things in general. You ought to have 
 heard his comparison of life in the U. S. and England, 
 with special reference to the taking of young lady 
 friends on parties. 
 
 One frenzied afi:ernoon we had, which I foresaw was 
 coming considerably beforehand — that was the day 
 we made out our customs' declarations. I did mine in 
 
•235- 
 the morning in about ten minutes, declaring practically 
 everything, and allowing a little for all I omitted; so I 
 had the pleasure of watching and listening to all the 
 others. Being the principal adherent to the stria in- 
 terpretation, I was open to all kinds of attempted 
 catches by Pete, who said he didn't pretend to be a 
 strict *'interpretationist." He found his supreme de- 
 light in calling down J.C. P. and H. T. C. for omis- 
 sions and underratings. Curt, as a matter of fact, left 
 out more than any one else, and Harry ended by de- 
 claring considerably more than he intended — cursing 
 me out for being responsible (so has Jule '79 since). 
 Benny was the funniest, though. He was thoroughly in 
 sympathy with my way of thinking, but allowed a 
 baggage-man below to alter his declaration to a figure 
 seventy-five dollars or more lower — only to have 
 qualms of conscience and change the whole thing in 
 the end back to the original figures. 
 
 That's all for the Lusitania, She brought us home 
 in pretty much ideal weather, fine smooth seas, much 
 sun and sparkling clear days, in a little over four 
 days and thirteen hours. Four mighty leaps of 647, 
 627, 631, and 632 did the business, and we docked, 
 much to our regret, about 10:30 P.M. Thursday even- 
 ing. We had been all over her, too, saw her bow cut 
 the water like a knife and fling it for ten or fifteen feet 
 straight up the side; saw the tremendous wake and 
 
• 236 • 
 turmoil of waters firom her four propellers; saw her 
 mighty turbitie engines, too, and the rudder, on a scale 
 no less large. Well, it was a great sight — coming up 
 New York Bay by night — past the flaring torch of 
 Liberty, with the superb Tower of the Metropolitan 
 Life in the distance. It took an hour to swing that 
 great hulk alongside her dock, and the strain was quite 
 too much for one Reginald Roome, who was as rest- 
 less and capricious as a wild Indian. Pete spent the 
 night with me at 6 Pierrepont, as no one of his 
 family was at the pier to meet him, and he didn't get 
 their telegrams, despite a thousand and one inquiries. 
 Harvey met me with one hundred dollars in his pock- 
 et; Harry was met by his father and uncle; Benny by 
 his mother and Marian; and Curt by Marjory and 
 Phil. Elt, dear old boy, met us all — just like him to 
 finish and begin the trip with us even if Providence 
 wouldn't let him take it with us. 
 
 So we were scattered to the Four Winds, as it were 
 — after the wrestle with the Customs. How did we 
 come out? Well, Benny was high man with $98 on 
 $315;Harry paid $80 on $301; Curt $48 on about 
 $200, and I — $8.00 — on practically the same amount. 
 Then Pete declared $119 and paid $11 on his $19, 
 which made him as sore as a crab; but such is life, I 
 say, and I'm darned glad there was never any ques- 
 tion in my mind about declaring everything, for sure- 
 ly I was rewarded. 
 
•237- 
 
 Well, well — here it is all over — work, hard work 
 too, less than a week ahead — so just to finish a job 
 well, here goes for a few mild, more or less personal 
 refleaions, sparing none of the Big Six TraveHng 
 Companions. 
 
 First, for little "Pinny" — with us six weeks. It was 
 a hard summer for "Pinny" — we all realized that, 
 though said little about it. I only hope our presence 
 cheered him up a bit. Perhaps our "kidding" was 
 a little strenuous for him, but I trust not. I can see 
 T. L. now, changing his mind with the crowd — 
 meek as a lamb. He always thought he would leave 
 to see cousins and friends; but we always knew bet- 
 ter. What a little "four-flusher" he turned out to be, 
 too! How he backed down at Canterbury when he 
 wanted some one to go to London with him and Pete 
 promptly offered! He's a great little fellow, though — 
 one ofthe most perfect little gentlemen I have known 
 — and we all benefited by his company. 
 
 Old Club Man Roome next looms up. I suppose he 
 is happy now that he is back in the land where he can 
 get receipts. That used to worry Peter considerably. 
 Ever try to argue with Pete? Don't try unless your 
 temper's well oiled. The obstinate old cuss won't be 
 convinced. I have some delightfiil pictures to store in 
 my memory of Club Man toiling up those Swiss hills 
 and mountains — over that potato patch, remember? 
 
•238- 
 How much more at home he was when we struck the 
 city. Can't show him much about London — notmuch! 
 Pete got his fiill share of "kidding** too, (once in a 
 while we got his "goat"). Would we had noted his 
 restlessness and susceptibility for looking in mirrors 
 before! You're a great fellow, though, Pete, and 
 couldn't have been spared. 
 
 H. Tomlinson Curtiss is another of the indispen- 
 sable links in our chain. Harry is one of the best all- 
 around combinations of a man I know, and is always 
 the best of company. He has a faculty of expressing 
 to perfection ideas which you are conscious of, but 
 cannot put in words. I feel that I have a peculiar sym- 
 pathy with Harry for our already famous trip to Scu- 
 tari. If there is one thing characteristic of H.T.C. (and 
 there are many), it is SALTS. Harry would dose him- 
 self with salts on the slightest provocation, and if all 
 the other medicines in the world were swept away, 
 it would make little difference to him. He really be- 
 lieves they will cure anything. But then, Harry really 
 believes all he thinks and says — a not bad fault, and 
 I cannot but admire the unbounded confidence of the 
 man in himself — for truly there is nothing he cannot 
 do — even shave and bathe in eight minutes. Harry 
 kept us waiting far more than all the other five put 
 together (he doesn't think this, of course), and was 
 quite invariably late to anything; but then, there 
 
.239. 
 wasn't any one we could have afforded to wait for 
 more. 
 
 Curt was always punctual, but made up for it by 
 leaving something behind everywhere we went. His 
 belt, camera, hat, and nail-brush disappeared in rapid 
 succession, only to appear eventually in some one of 
 the party's hands, luckily for him. Besides Plattitudes 
 on the good ship Arabic, Curt is famous for his 
 battles against cities. In spite of divers maps and 
 brilliantly-planned campaigns, he managed to get lost 
 with startling regularity. When he wasn't "mastering" 
 a city, he was picking up something or sending post 
 cards. He had besides, a delicious habit of restlessness 
 that never allowed him to sit out a meal, and resulted 
 often in that other habit of never telling anybody else 
 what he was about. Platty, though, more than any one 
 else, was always ftill of fun, rarely ruffled, and the best 
 of companions. 
 
 There isn't much room for Benny Clement, but 
 not much is needed; for, as ever, he was indeed the 
 King-pin of the party, exercising his strong unifying 
 influence, that did as much as any one thing to hold 
 us all together in harmony. It came quite easy to 
 him to slip those twelve beers in Munich and puff 
 off ten to twenty cigarettes a day. Benny, our greatest 
 "kidder," was himself pretty much "unkiddable," ex- 
 cept by Harry Curtiss. He got his full share, though. 
 
• 240 • 
 in a different way, and we used to get his "goat" quite 
 often by telling him he was too darned "High and 
 Mighty." 
 
 THE END 
 
APPENDIX A 
 
 ITINERARY OF EIGHT DAYS' 
 
 AUTOMOBILE TRIP IN 
 
 ENGLAND 
 
 SATURDAY, JULY 16-SATURDAY, JULY 23, 
 
 1910 
 
245 
 
 EDINBURGH TO LONDON 
 
 Total distance covered, 818 miles. 
 
 Average per day, 102 miles. 
 
 Longest run — Saturday, July 16, 146 miles. 
 
 Shortest run — Saturday, July 23, 80 miles. 
 
 Day (1) Saturday, July 16 — Edinburgh to Keswick. 
 Visiting Melrose Abbey and Abbotsford, passing 
 through Hawick, Carlisle, and Cheviot Hills, (three 
 punctures) . Lunch at Melrose Abbey Hotel. Arrived 
 Keswick, 9 P.M., Keswick Hotel. 146 miles. 
 
 Day (2) Sunday, July 17 — Keswick to Harrogate. 
 Derwentwater, Thirlmere, Grasmere, and Winder- 
 mere. Visited Dove Cottage. Lunch at Old England 
 Hotel, Bowness. Arrived Queen Hotel, Harrogate, 
 9.45 P.M. (puncture and blow out). 114 miles. 
 
 Day (3) Monday, July 28 — Harrogate to Lincoln. 
 Visiting York and Doncaster (modern) Cathedrals. 
 Lunch at Harker's Hotel, York. Run into by motor- 
 cyclist at Doncaster. Arrived Station Hotel, Lincoln, 
 6.30 P.M. 100 miles. 
 
 Day (4) Tuesday, July 19 — Lincoln to Cambridge. 
 Visiting Lincoln, Peterborough, and Ely Cathedrals 
 and passing through the fen district of Lincoln. 
 
•246- 
 Lunch at Peterborough. Tea at a Crossed Keys 
 Tavern J^ hour from Ely. Arrived at Ye Olde Cas- 
 tel Hotel, Cambridge, at 7.30 P.M. 110 miles. 
 
 Day (5) Wednesday, July 20 — Cambridge to Leam- 
 ington. 
 
 Saw colleges A.M. Lunch at Olde Castel— rotten 
 hotels. Tea at Wheat Sheaf Inn 1 hour from des- 
 tination. (Puncture 6 at eighty-second mile). Ar- 
 rived Regent's Hotel, Leamington, 7 P.M. 83 miles. 
 
 Day (6) Thursday, July 21 — Leamington to Oxford. 
 Visiting Kenilworth and Warwick Castles, Guy*s 
 ClifFe, Shakespeare's home and church, and Ann 
 Hathaway's cottage at Stratford, where we had 
 lunch at the Shakespeare Hotel. Tea at 400-year-old 
 Lygon Arms Inn, Broadway. Arrived without mis- 
 hap, Clarendon Family Hotel, Oxford, 8 P.M. 81 
 miles. 
 
 Day (7) Friday, July 22 — Oxford to Winchester. 
 Saw University in morning. Lunch at Clarendon 
 Hotel. Visited Stonehenge and Salisbury Cathedral. 
 Tea at a tea-house in Salisbury. Beautiful ride all 
 the way from Stonehenge to Winchester, arriving 
 at George Hotel, 8 P.M. 104 miles. 
 
 Day (8) Saturday, July 23 — Winchester to London. 
 Saw Winchester Cathedral. Lunch at Windsor. 
 Visited Windsor Palace, Eton Chapel, and Stoke 
 Poges, where Gray wrote his Elegy. Arrived at 
 Hotel Cecil, London, 6 P.M. 80 miles. 
 
APPENDIX B 
 
 ITINERARY AND STATISTICS OF 
 
 TEN DAYS' WALKING TRIP IN 
 
 SWITZERLAND 
 
249 
 
 INTERLAKEN TO CHAMONIX 
 
 Total distance walked, 105 miles. 
 
 Total time, 36 j4 hours. 
 
 Total number of feet climbed, 25,708. 
 
 Total number of feet descended, 17,751. 
 
 Friday, August 26. Took train from Lucerne over 
 Briinig Pass and boat from Brienz to Interlaken 
 (1863), stopping at Hotel des Alpes. 
 
 Saturday, August 27. Walked by road 8 miles to 
 Lauterbrunnen(2 hours, 5 minutes). Lunch. Thence 
 by steep path to Miirren (5415). Hotel Jungfrau. 
 Distance 12 miles. Time 4 hours. Height 3552 feet. 
 
 Sunday, August 28.To Lauterbrunnen in 1 hour. Climb 
 to Wengen 1 1^ (4190) for lunch. Walk in P.M. to 
 Wengenalp (6l60) and Kleine Scheidegg (6770) 
 where we had tea. Hard descent to Grindelwald 
 (3402) Hotel Alpenruhe. Distance 18 miles. Time 
 6j^ hours. Ascent 4155 feet. Total descent 6168 
 feet. 
 
 Monday, August 29. To top of Grosse Scheidegg 
 (6939) in 2^ hours for lunch. Long and pleasant 
 descent to Meiringen (i960), passing Reichenbach 
 Falls. Hotel Briinig. Distance 20 miles. Time 5 
 hours. Ascent 3032 feet. Descent 4474 feet. 
 
• 250- 
 
 Tuesday, August 30. Visiced Gorge of the Aar. Long 
 and late road walk to Guttannen (3480), 9 J4 miles 
 for lunch. Fine walk in rain to Grimsel Hospice 
 (6155) for night, passing Handeck Fall. Distance 
 17 miles. Time 5^ hours. Ascent 4195 feet. 
 
 Wednesday, August 31. Hard rain. Coached six miles 
 over Grimsel Pass (7103), to Gletsch (5750) for 
 lunch. Poor view of Rhone Glacier. Coached 19 
 miles to Fiesch (3460), "Pinny," Harry, and I walk- 
 ing 11 in 2^ hours. Distance 25 miles (11 walked). 
 Descent 1200 feet. 
 
 Thursday, September 1. More rain, so coached to 
 Brigue (lunch), 12 miles. Thence by train to Visp 
 and Zermatt (5315). Walked to RifFelalp Hotel 
 (7260). Distance 3 miles. Time 1 y^ hours. Height 
 1945 feet. 
 
 Friday, September 2. 4 hour walk and climb of Riffel- 
 horn(96l7). After lunch descent to Zermatt, thence 
 4 hours by train to Martigny (l542),National Hotel. 
 Distance 9 miles. Time 5% hours. Ascent 2357. 
 Descent 4302 feet. 
 
 Saturday, September 3. Walk over Tete Noire. Alt. of 
 La Forclaz (4987), near where we lunched. Beauti- 
 ful walk to Chatelard (3680), wheie we took the 
 electric for Les Praz-de-Chamonix (3540), Hotel 
 Splendide. Distance 10 miles. Time 4 hours. Ascent 
 3445 feet. Descent 1307 feet. 
 
• 251 • 
 Sunday, September 4. Walk of 1^ hours to Montan- 
 vert (6267). Descent and ascent from Mer de Glace 
 200 feet. To Chamonix for lunch by funicular, 
 thence by train to Geneva, Bellevue Hotel. Distance 
 5 miles. Time 2 1^ hours. Ascent 3027 feet. Descent 
 300 feet. 
 
INDEX 
 
 ALPHABETICAL GLOSSARY OF 
 
 PEOPLE, PLACES, AND COUNTRIES 
 
255 
 
 AAR, Gorge of the 
 
 
 
 . 182-183 
 
 Abbotsford 
 
 
 
 . 38-39 
 
 Ackert, Fred 
 
 
 
 217 
 
 Albania 
 
 
 
 133-141 
 
 S.S. Antivari . 
 
 
 
 . 132-133 
 
 Antwerp 
 
 
 
 81 
 
 S.S. Arabic . 
 
 
 
 9-20 
 
 Austria 
 
 
 116, 12 
 
 3, 142, 145 
 
 Automobile Trip 
 
 
 
 36-58 
 
 Automobile Trip Itinera 
 
 B 
 
 
 243-246 
 
 BELGIUM 
 
 
 73-81 
 
 Bellagio . 
 
 
 
 149 
 
 Bernina Pass 
 
 
 
 152-153 
 
 Blanc, Mt. 
 
 
 
 198-199 
 
 Blarney 
 
 
 
 23-24 
 
 Boltwood, Prof. . 
 
 
 
 101-104 
 
 Broadway . 
 
 
 
 51 
 
 Briinig Pass 
 
 /-< 
 
 
 162-163 
 
 CAMBRIDGE . 
 
 C 
 
 
 45-48 
 
 Canterbury 
 
 
 
 218-220 
 
256 
 
 Cattaro 
 
 
 . 118-142 
 
 Cetinje 
 
 . 
 
 . 126-130, 142 
 
 Cetinje Drive 
 
 . 
 
 . 121-127, 142 
 
 Chamonix, Les Praz de 
 
 
 . 197,201 
 
 Channel, English 
 
 
 . 59,218 
 
 Cheviot Hills 
 
 
 39 
 
 Chester 
 
 
 . 222-224 
 
 Clyde River 
 
 
 . . . 26 
 
 Cologne 
 
 
 83-86 
 
 Como, Lake 
 
 
 149 
 
 Consuls 
 
 114,] 
 
 116-117,130-131,141 
 
 Cork 
 
 D 
 
 23-24 
 
 DALMATIAN COAST 
 
 . 118-120 
 
 Dalmatian Trip . 
 
 
 . 113-145 
 
 S.S. Daniel Erno 
 
 
 . 115, 145, 146 
 
 Dove Cottage 
 
 
 40-41 
 
 Dublin 
 
 E 
 
 25 
 
 EDINBURGH . 
 
 
 34-37 
 
 Ely . . . 
 
 
 45 
 
 England 
 
 
 39-72,218-228 
 
 English Lakes 
 
 
 40-41 
 
 Eton 
 
 F 
 
 57 
 
 FIESCH . 
 
 
 188 
 
 Fiume 
 
 
 116-117,144 145 
 
257 
 
 France 
 
 
 197-200,206-218 
 
 Frankfort 
 
 G 
 
 86-88 
 
 GENEVA . 
 
 
 . 202-205 
 
 Germany 
 
 
 . 83-109 
 
 Glasgow 
 
 
 27 
 
 Gottschalk, Mr. Ferdinar 
 
 id . 
 
 . 15, 18, 22, 64 
 
 GrimselPass 
 
 
 . 182-187 
 
 Grindelwald 
 
 
 . 173-174 
 
 Grosse Scheidegg . 
 
 H 
 
 . 175-178 
 
 HAGUE, THE . 
 
 
 81-82 
 
 HandeckFall 
 
 
 184 
 
 Harrogate 
 
 
 27-30,42 
 
 Holland 
 
 
 . 81-82 
 
 INTERLAKEN . 
 
 I 
 
 . 162-164 
 
 Inversnaid . 
 
 
 . 29-30 
 
 Ireland 
 
 
 22-26 
 
 Italian Lakes 
 
 
 149 
 
 Italy . . . . 
 
 T 
 
 . 146-153 
 
 JUNGFRAU 
 
 J 
 
 172 
 
 Johnson, Miss Florence 
 
 K 
 
 . 155, 208-209 
 
 KENILWORTH 
 
 
 49 
 
 Keswick 
 
 
 39 
 
 Kleine Scheidegg . 
 
 
 . 171-174 
 

 
 258- 
 
 
 
 L 
 
 LAUTERBRUNNEN . . . 166-168 
 
 Leamington 
 
 
 . 48-49 
 
 Lincoln 
 
 
 
 
 31-32,43-45 
 
 Liverpool . 
 
 
 
 
 . 222,224 
 
 London 
 
 
 
 
 . 58-72 
 
 Galleries . 
 
 
 
 
 . 62-64 
 
 Restaurants 
 
 
 
 
 . 64-65 
 
 Shops 
 
 
 
 
 60-62 
 
 Theatres . 
 
 
 
 
 . 67-70 
 
 Second Visit 
 
 
 
 
 . 220-221 
 
 Lucerne 
 
 
 
 
 . 154-155 
 
 K.M.S.Lusitania 
 
 
 M 
 
 
 . 228-235 
 
 MARTIGNY 
 
 
 
 
 . 195-197 
 
 Matterhorn 
 
 
 
 
 . 194-195 
 
 Meiringen . 
 
 
 
 
 . 180-181 
 
 Melrose Abbey 
 
 
 
 
 . 37-38 
 
 Mer-de-Glace 
 
 
 
 
 . 198-199 
 
 Milan 
 
 
 
 
 . 148,149 
 
 Montenegro 
 
 
 
 
 . 119-133, 142 
 
 Munich 
 
 
 
 
 83, 96-105 
 
 Miirren 
 
 
 N 
 
 
 . 168-171 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 
 
 
 236 
 
 Niegus 
 
 
 
 
 . 124-126 
 
 Nuremberg . 
 
 
 
 
 . 89-90, 94-95 
 

 •259- 
 
 
 
 O 
 
 
 OBERAMMERGAU 
 
 
 '. 106-109 
 
 Oxford 
 
 
 . 52-55 
 
 Ostend 
 
 •r^ 
 
 . 73-77 
 
 S.S. PAl^^OMA 
 
 P 
 
 . 118-120, 144 
 
 Paris 
 
 
 . 206-217 
 
 Teas, fussing, etc. 
 
 
 . 208-213 
 
 Montmartre 
 
 
 . 213-217 
 
 Restaurants 
 
 
 . 211-213 
 
 Sight-seeing 
 
 
 . 206-207 
 
 Peterborough 
 
 Q 
 
 . 43-44 
 
 QUEENSTOWN 
 
 • • 
 
 R 
 
 22-23 
 
 REED, PROF. AND MRS. . 
 
 . 101-104 
 
 Reichenbach Falls 
 
 
 180 
 
 Retrospect 
 
 
 . 236-240 
 
 Rhine River 
 
 
 86 
 
 Rhone Valley 
 
 
 . 186-189 
 
 Riffelalp 
 
 
 . 189,195 
 
 RifFelhorn . 
 
 
 . 192-195 
 
 Riggs, T. Lawrason 
 
 
 112, 160-162 
 
 Rjecka 
 
 
 . 131-132 
 
 Rothenberg 
 
 S 
 
 • • 
 
 . 90-93 
 
 SALISBURY 
 
 56 
 
260 
 
 Scotland 
 
 . 
 
 
 . 27-38 
 
 Scutari 
 
 . 
 
 
 . 131-141 
 
 Scutari, Lake of 
 
 . , 
 
 
 . 131-132-133 
 
 St. Andrew's Golf Links. 
 
 
 35 
 
 St. Moritz . 
 
 
 
 153 
 
 Stirling 
 
 
 
 33 
 
 Stoke Poges . 
 
 
 
 57-58 
 
 Stonehenge . 
 
 
 
 55-56 
 
 Stratford 
 
 
 
 . 50-51 
 
 Switzerland . 
 
 
 
 . 153-205 
 
 TETE NOIRE PASS . 
 
 T 
 
 . 196-197 
 
 Tirano 
 
 
 
 . 151-152 
 
 Trossachs Trip 
 
 
 V 
 
 28-32 
 
 VARENNA 
 
 
 
 150 
 
 Virpazar 
 
 
 
 . 133-142 
 
 Venice 
 
 
 ] 
 
 [09-112,115, 146-149 
 
 Verona 
 
 
 
 . 109-110 
 
 Versailles 
 
 
 w 
 
 . 216-217 
 
 WATFS . 
 
 
 
 . 222-227 
 
 Walking Trip 
 
 
 
 . 159-200 
 
 Walking Trip Itinerary 
 
 
 . 247-251 
 
 Warwick . 
 
 . 
 
 
 49-50 
 
 Wengern 
 
 . 
 
 
 . 171-172 
 
 Winchester . 
 
 , 
 
 
 56-57 
 

 •261- 
 
 
 Windsor . 
 
 , , 
 
 57-58 
 
 Woodward, Miss Eleanor 
 
 14,41,49,51,67 
 
 Wrexham 
 
 Y 
 
 . 223-224 
 
 YALE, ELIHU 
 
 . 
 
 224 
 
 York 
 
 z 
 
 43 
 
 ZERMATT 
 
 , , 
 
 189 
 
Printed at the 
 
 Earl Trumbull Williams Memorial 
 
 by the Yale University Press. 
 
/