diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/52662-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/52662-0.txt | 4147 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 4147 deletions
diff --git a/old/52662-0.txt b/old/52662-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 19cdf23..0000000 --- a/old/52662-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4147 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Emily Emmins Papers, by Carolyn Wells - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Emily Emmins Papers - -Author: Carolyn Wells - -Illustrator: Josephine A. Meyer - -Release Date: July 28, 2016 [EBook #52662] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMILY EMMINS PAPERS *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -images generously made available by The Internet -Archive/American Libraries (https://archive.org) - - - - - - The - Emily Emmins Papers - - - By - - Carolyn Wells - - - - With Illustrations by - Josephine A. Meyer - - - - - G. P. Putnam’s Sons - New York and London - The Knickerbocker Press - 1907 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1907 - BY - G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS - - - - - The Knickerbocker Press, New York - - - - - - TO - EDITH MENDALL-TAYLOR - - IN MEMORY OF - PICCADILLY - - - - -[Illustration] CONTENTS - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. A TICKET TO EUROPE 1 - - II. CROSSING THE ATLANTIC 23 - - III. “IN ENGLAND—NOW!” 45 - - IV. MAYFAIR IN THE FAIR MONTH OF MAY 67 - - V. A HOSTESS AT HOME 86 - - VI. THE LIGHT ON BURNS’S BROW 106 - - VII. CERTAIN SOCIAL UNCERTAINTIES 126 - - VIII. A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY 146 - - IX. ALL IN A GARDEN FAIR 167 - - X. “I WENT AND RANGED ABOUT TO MANY CHURCHES” 186 - - XI. PICCADILLY CIRCUS AND ITS ENVIRONS 208 - - XII. THE GAME OF GOING ON 230 - - XIII. A FRENCH WEEK-END 252 - - Transcriber's Notes can be found at the end of this eBook. - - - - - THE EMILY EMMINS PAPERS - - -[Illustration] _I._ _A Ticket to Europe_ - -It has always seemed to me a pity that nearly all of the people one -meets walking in New York are going somewhere. I mean they have some -definite destination. Thus they lose the rare delight, that all too -little known pleasure, of a desultory stroll through the city streets. -For myself, I know of no greater joy than an aimless ramble along the -crowded metropolitan thoroughfares. Nor does _ramble_ imply, as some -might mistakenly suppose, a slow, dawdling gait. Not at all; the -atmosphere of the city itself inspires a brisk, steady jog-trot; but the -impression of a ramble is inevitable if the jog-trot have no intended -goal. - -I am a country woman,—that is, I live in a suburban town; but it is -quite near enough to the metropolis for us to consider ourselves -near-New Yorkers. And Myrtlemead is a dear little worth-while place in -its own way. We have a Current Culture Club and a Carnegie library and -several of us have telephones. I am not a member of the Club, but that -must not be considered as any disparagement of my culture—or, rather, -of my capacity for assimilating culture (for the Club’s aim is the -disbursement of that desirable commodity). On the contrary, I was among -the first invited to belong to it. - -[Illustration: Oh! yes, you have temperament, she twittered.] - -“You must be a member, Miss Emmins,” said the vivacious young thing who -called to lay the matter before me, “because you have so much -temperament.” - -This word was little used in Myrtlemead at this time (although, since, -it has become as plenty as blackberries), and I simply said “What!” in -amazement. - -“Oh! yes, you have,” she twittered, “and you create an atmosphere. Don’t -attempt to deny it,—you know you do create an atmosphere.” This was too -much. I didn’t join the Club, although I occasionally look in on them at -their cultured tea hour, which follows the more intellectual part of -their programme. As they have delicious chicken-salad and hot rolls and -coffee, I find their culture rather comforting than otherwise. - -Living so near New York, I find it convenient to run into the city -whenever I hear it calling. - -[Illustration: Lilacs blossom along the curb] - -In the spring its calls are especially urgent. I know popular sympathy -leans toward springtime in the country, but for my part, as soon as -March has blown itself away, and April comes whirling along the cleared -path of the year, I hurry to keep my annual appointment to meet Spring -in New York. The trees are budding in the parks, daffodils and tulips -are blooming riotously on the street-corners, while hyacinths and lilacs -blossom along the curb. A pearl-colored cloud is poised in that intense -blue just above the Flatiron Building, and the pretty city girls smile -as they prank along in their smart spring costumes behind their violet -mows. The birds twitter with a sophisticated chirp, and the -street-pianos respond with a brisk sharpness of tune and time. The very -air is full of an urban ozone, that is quite different from the romantic -lassitude of spring in the country. - -Of course, all this is a matter of individual taste. I prefer walking in -dainty boots, along a clean city pavement, while another equally sound -mind might vote for common-sense shoes and a rough country road. - -[Illustration: Common-sense shoes and a rough country road.] - -And so, as I, Emily Emmins, spinster, have the full courage of my own -convictions, I found myself one crisp April morning walking happily -along the lower portion of Broadway. Impulse urged me on toward the -Battery, but, as often happens, my impulse was side-tracked. And all -because of a woman’s smiling face. I was passing the offices of the -various steamship companies, and I saw, coming down the steps of one of -them, a young woman whose countenance was positively glorified with joy. -I couldn’t resist a second glance at her, and I saw that both her hands -were filled with circulars and booklets. - -It required no clairvoyance to understand the situation; she had just -bought her first ticket to Europe, and it was the glorious achievement -of a lifelong desire. I knew, as well as if she had told me, how she had -planned and economized for it, and probably studied all sorts of -text-books that she might properly enjoy her trip, and make it an -education as well as a pleasure. And as I looked at the gay-colored -pamphlets she clutched, I was moved to go in and acquire a few for -myself. - -With Emily Emmins, to incline is to proceed; so I stepped blithely into -the big light office and requested booklets. They were bestowed on me in -large numbers, the affable clerk was most polite, and,—well, I’m sure I -don’t know how it happened, but the first thing I knew I was paying a -deposit on my return ticket to Liverpool. - -I may as well confess, at the outset, that I am of a chameleonic nature. -I not only take color from my surroundings, but reflect manners and -customs as accurately and easily as a mirror. And so, in that great, -business-like office, with its maps and charts and time-tables and -steamer plans, the only possible thing to do seemed to be to buy my -ticket, and I did so. But I freely admit it was entirely the influence -of the ocean-going surroundings that made the deed seem to me a casual -and natural one. No sooner had I regained the street, with its spring -air and stone pavement, than I realized I had done something unusual and -perhaps ill-advised. However, a chameleonic nature implies an ability to -accept a situation, and after one jostled moment I walked uptown, -planning as I went. - -Two days later the postman brought me an unusually large budget of mail. -The first letter I opened caused me some surprise, and a mild amusement. -It began, quite cosily: - - MISS EMILY EMMINS. - - _Dear Madam_: Learning that you intend sailing from New York in - the near future, I take the liberty of calling your attention to - the Hotel Xantippe as a most desirable stopping place during - your stay in this city. - -The letter went on to detail the advantages and charms of the hotel, and -gave a complete list of rates, which, for the comforts and luxuries -promised, seemed reasonable indeed! But how in the world did the urbane -proprietor of the Hotel Xantippe know that I contemplated a trip abroad? -I hadn’t yet divulged my secret to my fellow-residents of Myrtlemead, -and how an utter stranger could learn of it, was a puzzle to me. But the -other letters were equally amazing. One from a dry-goods emporium -besought me to inspect their wares before going abroad to buy. Another -begged me to purchase their shoes, and gave fearful warnings of the -shortcomings of English footgear. Another, and perhaps the most -flattering, requested the honor of taking my photograph before I sailed. -But one and all seemed not only cognizant of my recently formed plans, -but entirely approved of them, and earnestly desired to assist me in -carrying them out. - -With my willingness to accept a situation, I at once assumed that -somehow the news of my intended departure had crept into one or other of -the New York daily papers. I couldn’t understand why this should be, but -surely the only possible explanation was my own prominence in the public -eye. This, I placidly admitted to myself, was surprising, but -gratifying. To be sure, I had written a few nondescript verses, and an -occasional paper on some foolish thing as a fine art, but I had not -reached the point where my name was mentioned among “What Our Authors -are Saying and Doing.” - -However—alas for my vainglory!—a neighbor soon explained to me, that -all up-to-date business firms procure lists of those who have bought -steamship tickets, and send circular letters to each address. This was -indeed a blow to my vanity, but so interesting were the letters which -continued to pour in that I cared little for the reason of their -sending. They pleased me mightily, because of their patronizing -attitude, treating me as if I were either Josiah Allen’s wife or a -Choctaw Indian. Invariably they assumed I had never been in the -metropolis before, and would prove exceeding ignorant of its ways. Nor -were they entirely mistaken. - -One elaborate circular set forth the wonders of the city as viewed from -the “Seeing [or Touring] New York Motor-Coach.” Now I had passed these -great arks hundreds of times, but it had never occurred to me to enter -one. And yet, so great is my susceptibility to suggestion, that I -determined to take the trip before leaving my native land. - -Another letter left me hesitating as to whether my proposed journey was -advisable after all. This letter was from the Elsinore Travel Bureau, -and explained how, by the purchase of a new-fangled stereoscope and -innumerable sets of “views,” one could get far more satisfaction out of -a European trip by staying at home than by going abroad. “So real are -the scenes,” the circular assured me, “that one involuntarily stretches -out a hand to grasp what isn’t there.” Surely, realism need go no -farther than that; yet some over-exacting people might demand that the -grasped-for thing should be there. - -At least, that’s the way I felt about it; and besides, now that all -Myrtlemead was stirred up over my going to Europe, I couldn’t decently -abandon my project. That’s one of the delightful annoyances of life in a -country village. Everybody belongs to everybody else, and your neighbors -have a perfect right to be as interferingly helpful as they choose. My -house was besieged by what I came to call the noble army of starters, -for the kind-hearted ones brought me every imaginable help or hindrance -to an ocean voyage. - -[Illustration: They walked away with their plaids in their arms and -their heads in the air.] - -I had already bought myself a steamer rug, whose soft bright colors and -silky texture delighted my soul; but none the less were steamer rugs -brought me by dozens, as intended loans. It was with a slight air of -resentment that my would-be benefactors received my humble apology for -possessing a rug of my own, and walked away with their plaids in their -arms and their heads in the air. Then came one who earnestly advised me -not to take my lovely, silky rug, as it was sure to be ruined on the -steamer, and after that to be devoured by moths during its summer in a -steamer trunk. The best plan, she informed me, was to hire a rug from -the steamship company, as I would hire my deck-chair, and leave my own -rug at home, to be used as a couch robe. Being amiable by nature I -agreed to this plan. Next came a neighbor who, having heard that I had -concluded to hire a rug on the steamer, asked to borrow mine to take -with her on a lake trip. Of course I lent it to her, but a few weeks -later, when I tried to cuddle into one of the small harsh rugs that the -steamship company provides, I almost regretted my amiability. - -Then came friends with cushions—large, small, and double-jointed. Also, -they brought air-pillows, and water-pillows, and patent contrivances for -comfort, that were numerous and bulky, and adequately expressed their -donors’ kind interest in my well-being at sea. Also came many sure and -absolute remedies for sea-sickness, or preventives thereof. Had I taken -them all with me, and had they made good their promise, not one of the -cabin passengers, or the steerage, need have been ill for a moment. -Interspersed among the more material gifts was much and various advice. - -This was easily remembered, for taken as a whole it included every -possible way of doing anything. Said one: “Pack your trunks very -tightly, for clothing carries much better that way.” Said another: “Pack -your trunks very loosely; for then you will have room to bring home many -purchases and yet declare at customs only the same number of trunks as -you took with you from America.” Said a third: “Let me help you pack, -for if a trunk is crammed too tightly or filled too loosely, it makes -all sorts of trouble.” - -But, being amiable, I smiled pleasantly on all, agreed with each -adviser, and held my peace. For, to me, preliminaries mattered little, -and I knew that as soon as I was fairly at sea, or at least beyond the -three-mile limit, I could make my own plans, and carry them out without -let or hindrance. - -My itinerary was, of course, arranged and rearranged for me, but usually -the would-be arbiters of my destinations fell into such hot discussions -among themselves that they quite forgot I was going away at all. But it -mattered little to me whether they advised the Riviera by way of the -North Cape, or the Italian lakes after the Cathedral tour; for my entire -summer was irrevocably planned in my own mind. No “touristing” for me. -No darting through Europe with a shirtwaist in a “suit” case, and a -Baedeker in my other hand. - -[Illustration: No “touristing” for me.] - -No, my “tour of extended foreign travel,” as our local newspaper -persisted in calling it, was, on my part, an immutable resolve to go by -the most direct route to London and remain there until the date of my -return ticket to New York. This plan, being simple in the main, left me -leisure to listen to my friends’ advices and recommendations. But, -though I listened politely, I really paid little heed, and at last I -sailed away with the advice, in a confused medley drifting out of my -memory. - -The only points that seemed to be impressed on my mind were that, in -London parlance, “Thank you” invariably means either “Yes” or “No” -(nobody seemed quite sure which), and that in England one must always -call a telephone a lift. - - - - -[Illustration] _II._ _Crossing the Atlantic_ - -The most remarkable effect of a sea-trip is, to my mind, its wonderful -influence for amiability. I hadn’t passed Sandy Hook before I felt an -affable suavity settling down upon me like a February fog. I am at all -times of a contented and peaceful nature, but this lethargic urbanity -was a new sensation, and, as I opined it was but the beginning of a -series of new sensations, I gave myself up to it with a satisfied -feeling that my trip had really begun. - -And yet I was haunted by a vague uneasiness that it hadn’t begun right. -I had planned to be most methodical on this voyage. I had resolved that -when I came aboard I would go first to my stateroom and unpack my -steamer trunk, arrange my belongings neatly in their proper portholes -and bunkers, find my reserved deck-chair, and attach to it my carefully -tagged rug and pillow. Then I meant to take off and pack away my pretty -travelling costume, and array myself in my “steamer clothes,” these -having been selected with much care and thought in accordance with -numerous and conflicting advices. - -Whereas, instead of all this, I had hurriedly looked into my stateroom, -and only noted that it was a tiny white box, piled high with luggage, -part of which I recognized as my own, and the rest I assumed belonged to -my as yet unknown room-mate. Then I had drifted out on deck, dropped -into some chair, I know not whose; and, still in my trig tailor-made -costume and feathered hat, I watched the coast line fade away and leave -the sea and sky alone together. - -Suddenly it occurred to me that I was receiving “first impressions.” How -I hated the term! Every one I knew, who had ever crossed the ocean -before I did, had said to me, “And you’ve never been over before? Oh, -how I _envy_ you your first impressions!” - -As I realized that about seventy-nine people were even then consumed -with a burning envy of these first impressions of mine, I somehow felt -it incumbent upon me to justify their attitude by achieving the most -intensely enviable impressions extant. - -And yet, so prosaic are my mental processes, or else so contrary-minded -is my subconscious self, that the impression that obtruded itself to the -exclusion of all others was the somewhat obvious one that the sea air -would soon spoil my feathers. While making up my mind to go at once to -my stateroom and save my lovely plumes from their impending fate, I fell -to wondering what my room-mate would be like. I knew nothing of her save -that her name was Jane Sterling. This, though, was surely an indication -of her personality, for notwithstanding the usual inappropriateness of -cognomens, any one named Jane Sterling could not be otherwise than well -born, well bred, and companionable, though a bit elderly. - -I seemed to see Jane Sterling with a gaunt face, hooked nose, and -grizzled hair, though I admitted to myself that she _might_ be a -fragile, porcelain-like little old maid. - -This conflict of possibilities impelled me to go to my stateroom and -make Jane Sterling’s acquaintance, and, incidentally, put away my best -hat. - -So I started, and on my way received another of my “first impressions.” - -This was a remarkable feeling of at-homeness on the steamer. I had never -been on an ocean liner before, yet I felt as though I had lived on one -for years. The balancing of myself on the swaying stairs seemed to come -naturally to me, and I felt that I should have missed the peculiar -atmosphere of the dining-saloon had it not assailed my senses. - -[Illustration: Portrait of Jane Sterling] - -As I entered Stateroom _D_, I found Jane Sterling already there. But as -the physical reality was so different from the lady of my imagination, I -sat down on the edge of my white-spread berth and stared at her. - -Sitting on the edge of the opposite berth, and staring back at me, was a -small child with big eyes. She wore a stiff little frock of white piqué, -and her brown hair was “bobbed” and tied up with an enormous white bow. -Her brown eyes had a solemn gaze, and her little hands were clasped in -her lap. - -It was quite needless to ask her name, for Jane Sterling was plainly and -unmistakably written all over her, and I marvelled that the name hadn’t -told me at once what she looked like. - -“How old are you, Jane?” I asked. - -“Seven,” she replied, with a little sigh, as of the weight of years. - -Her voice satisfied me. She was one of those unusual children, whom some -speak of as “queer,” and others call “old-fashioned.” - -But they are neither. They are distinctly a modern variety, and their -unusualness lies in the fact that they have a sense of humor. - -“And is this your first trip abroad?” I went on. - -“No, my seventh,” said Jane, with a delicious little matter-of-fact air. - -“Indeed! Well, this is the first time I have crossed, so I trust you -will take pity on my ignorance, and instruct me as to what I should do.” - -I said this with an intent to be sociable, and make, the child feel at -ease, but no such effort was necessary. - -“There is nothing to do diffelunt,” she said, with a bewitching smile. -“You just do what you would in your own house.” - -It was the first really good advice I had had concerning my steamer -manners, and I put it away among my other first impressions for future -use. - -Then Jane’s mother appeared, and I learned that she occupied the next -stateroom, and that she hoped Jane would not annoy me, and that she was -glad I liked children, and that she had three, and that they crossed -every year, and that if I wanted anything at all I was to ask her for -it. Then she put a few polite questions to me, and duly envied me my -first impressions, and returned to her other babies. - -Jane proved a most delightful roommate, and, as she was never intrusive -or troublesome, I felt that I had drawn a prize in the ship’s lottery. - -The morning of the second day I rose with a determination to get to -work. I had no intention of dawdling, and, moreover, I had much to do. -In the first place, I wanted to get settled in my deck-chair, in that -regulation bent-mummy position so often pictured in summer novels, and -study my fellow-passengers. I had been told that nothing was so much fun -as to study people on deck. Then I had many letters to write and many -books to read. I wanted to learn how to compute the ship’s log, and how -to talk casually of “knots.” After all these had been accomplished, I -intended to plan out my itinerary for the summer. This I wanted to do -after I was out of all danger of advice from friends at home and before -I made the acquaintance of any one on board who might attempt to advise -me. - -So determined was I to plan my own trip that I would have been glad to -get out on a desert island and wait there for the next steamer, rather -than have any assistance in the matter of laying out my route. - -Immediately after breakfast, therefore, arrayed in correct steamer -costume, and carrying rug, pillow, paper-covered novel, veil, fur boa, -and two magazines, I went to my deck-chair and prepared to camp out for -the morning. As the deck steward was not about, I tried to arrange my -much desired mummy effect myself. Technique seemed lacking in my -efforts, and, slightly embarrassed at my inability to manage the -refractory rug, I looked up to see Jane watching me. - -“You mustn’t put the rug over you,” she explained, in her kind little -way. “You must put yourself over the rug.” - -At her advice I got out of the chair, and she spread the rug smoothly in -it. - -“Sit down,” she said, briefly, and I obeyed. - -Cleverly, then, she flung up the sides and tucked in the corners, until -the rug swathed me in true seventeenth-trip fashion. Jane proceeded to -arrange my pillow and the other odds and ends of comfort. She -disapproved, however, of my reading-matter. - -“Magazines won’t stay open,” she observed, “and paper books won’t, -eever.” - -Jane’s few mispronunciations were among her chiefest charms. - -“But it won’t matter,” she added cheerfully. “You won’t read, anyhow.” - -This reminded me that I had no intention of reading, being there for the -purpose of studying my fellow-passengers. - -I was still obsessed by that strange sensation of inanition. - -Although beatifically serene and abnormally good-natured, I felt an -utter aversion to exertion of any kind, mental, moral, or physical. Even -the thought of studying my fellow-travellers seemed a task too arduous -to contemplate. - -And so I sat there all the morning and not a fellow-traveller was -studied. - -“This won’t do,” I said to myself, severely, after luncheon. “Here you -are, not a hint of sea-sickness, the day is perfect, you know how to -adjust your rug, and all conditions are favorable. You _must_ study your -fellow-travellers.” - -But the afternoon showed little improvement on the morning. As a result -of desperate effort, I scrutinized one lady and decided to call her the -Lady with the Green Bag. - -It wasn’t a very clever characterization, but it was, at least, founded -on fact. - -Another I conscientiously contemplated, and finally dubbed her the Lady -Who Isn’t an Actress. This was rather a negative description, but I -based it on the neatness of her vanity-bag and the carelessness of her -belt, and I am sure it was true. - -The Clucking Mother was easily recognized, and a pink-cheeked and -white-handed young man, who attempted to talk to me, I snubbed, and then -to myself I designated him as Simple Simon. - -I wasn’t really rude to him, and I fully intended to make acquaintances -among the passengers later on; but I am methodical, and after I had all -my other tasks attended to, I hoped to have two or three days left for -social intercourse. - -[Illustration: Simple Simon.] - -But after a time the chair next mine was left vacant, and then a -laughing young girl seated herself in it. - -Apparently it didn’t belong to her, and she sat down there with the -express purpose of talking to me. My arduous study of my -fellow-travellers had somewhat wearied me, and her sudden and uninvited -appearance disturbed that serene calm which I had supposed unassailable, -and so I angrily characterized her in my mind as a Bold-Faced Jig. - -This name was so apt that it really pleased me, and I involuntarily -smiled in appreciation of my appreciation of her. - -So sympathetic was she (as I afterward discovered) that she smiled too, -and then I couldn’t, in common decency, be rude to her. She chatted -away, and before I knew it I was charmed with her. I didn’t change the -name I had mentally bestowed on her, but, instead, I told her of it, and -it delighted her beyond measure. I told her, too, how I intended to -devote the next two days to planning my summer trip, then a day for -writing letters, and after that I hoped to play bridge, or otherwise -hobnob socially with certain people whom I had mentally selected for -that purpose. - -The Bold-Faced Jig laughed heartily at this. - -“Haven’t you any idea where you’re going to travel?” she asked. - -“Not the slightest.” - -“Well, let me advise you——” - -“Oh, please don’t!” I cried. “I left my planning until now in order to -get away from all advisers. I _must_ decide for myself. I know just what -I want, and I can’t bear to be interfered with.” - -The B.-F. J. looked amazed at first, and then she laughed. - -“All right,” she said. “Now listen, Miss Emmins. I think you’re -delightful, and I’m going to help you all I can by _not_ advising you. -But if you’ve not finished your itinerary plans in two days, mayn’t I -tell you then what I was going to advise?” - -“Yes,” I said, with dignity and decision, “if you will keep away from me -for two days, and do all you can to keep others away.” - -She promised, and it was more of a task than it might seem, for as I sat -in my deck-chair, or, oftener, at a table in the library, surrounded by -Baedekers, time-tables, maps, guide-books, and Hare’s _Walks in London_, -many of the socially inclined or curious-minded paused to make a -tentative remark. My replies were so coolly polite that they rarely -ventured on a second observation, but I soon discovered that my laughing -friend had told her comrades what I was doing, and they awaited the -result. - -It is strange what trivialities will interest the idle minds of those -who dawdle about in the library of an ocean steamer. - -Jane would occasionally come and stand by me, saying wisely, “Are you -still making your itinnery?” - -When I said yes, she sighed and smiled and ran away, being desirous not -to bother. - -The first morning I engaged in this work, I read interestedly of -picture-galleries and architectural specialties. That afternoon my -interest waned, and I studied time-tables and statistical information. -The next morning I grew sick of the whole performance and, bundling the -books and maps away, I went out to my deck-chair, and idled away the -hours in waking dreams that never were on sea or land. - -That afternoon the Bold-Faced Jig approached me. - -“It’s all over,” I said. “I’ve capitulated. I make no plans while I’m on -this blessed ocean. It’s wicked to do anything at all but to do -nothing.” - -“And don’t you want my advice?” she asked, laughing still. - -“I don’t care,” I answered. “You can voice your advice if you choose. I -sha’n’t listen to it, much less follow it.” - -Her girlish laughter rang out again. “That was my advice,” she said. “I -was going to tell you not to plan any trip while you are at sea. Just -enjoy the days as they come and go; don’t count them; don’t do anything -at all but just _be_. - -“I’m not through yet,” she went on. “Don’t write any letters or read any -books. Don’t study human nature, and of all things don’t voluntarily -make acquaintances. If they happen along, as I did, chat a bit if you -choose, and when they pass on, forget them.” - -And so I took advice after all. I made no plans, I made no abstruse -diagnoses of human character, I made no acquaintances save such as -casually happened of themselves. And the days passed in a sort of -rose-colored haze, as indefinite as a foggy sunrise, and as satisfying -as a painted nocturne of Whistler’s. And so, my first impressions of my -first ocean crossing are indeed enviable. - - - - -[Illustration] _III._ “_In England—Now!_” - -The trip from Liverpool to London I found to be a green glimpse of -England in the shape of a biograph. But the word _green_, as we say it -in our haste, is utterly inadequate to apply to the color of the English -landscape. Though of varying shades, it is always green to the n^{th} -power; it is a saturated solution of green; it is a green that sinks -into the eye with a sensation of indelibility. And as this green flew by -me, I watched it from the window of a car most disappointingly like our -own Pullmans. - -I had hoped for the humorous absurdities of the compartmented English -trains. I had almost expected to see sitting opposite me a gentleman -dressed in white paper, and I involuntarily watched for a guard who -should look at me through a telescope, and say “You’re travelling the -wrong way.” - -For my most definite impressions of English railway carriages had been -gained from my “Alice,” and I was annoyed to find myself booked for a -large arm-chair seat in a parlor car, with my luggage checked to its -London destination on “the American plan”! - -What, pray, was the use of coming abroad, if one was to have all the -comforts of home? - -As if to add to the unsatisfactoriness of my first impressions of -English travel, I found myself sitting opposite a young American woman. - -We faced each other across a small table, covered with what seemed to be -green baize, but was more likely the reflection of the insistent -landscape. - -The lady was one of those hopeless, helpless, newly rich, that affect so -strongly the standing of Americans in Europe. - -She was blatantly pretty, and began to talk at once, apparently quite -oblivious of the self-evident fact that I wanted to absorb in silence -that flying green, to which her own nature was evidently quite -impervious. - -“Your first trip?” she said, though I never knew how she guessed it. -“My! it must be quite an event in your life. Now it’s only an incident -in mine.” - -“You come often, then?” said I, not specially interested. - -[Illustration: “The one with the plaid travelling-cap.”] - -“Yes; that is, we shall come every summer now. You see, he made a lot of -money in copper,—that’s my husband over there, the one with the plaid -travelling-cap,—so we can travel as much as we like. We’ve planned a -long trip for this year, and we’ve got to hustle, I can tell you. I’m -awfully systematic. I’ve bought all the Baedekers, and this year I’m -going to see everything that’s marked with a double star. You know those -are the ‘sights which should on no account be omitted.’ Then next year -we’ll do up the single stars, and after that we can take things more -leisurely.” - -“You’ve never been over before, then?” I observed. - -“No,” she admitted, a little reluctantly; “I went to California last -year. I think Americans ought to see their own country first.” - -I couldn’t help wishing she had chosen this year for her California -trip, but the accumulation of green vision had somehow magicked me into -a mood of cooing amiability, and I good-naturedly assisted her to -prattle on, by offering an encouraging word now and then. - -“He’s so good to me,” she said, nodding toward her husband. “He says he -welcomes the coming and speeds the parting dollar. Isn’t that cute? He’s -an awfully witty man.” - -She described the home he had just built for her in Chicago, and it -seemed to be a sort of Liberal Arts Building set in the last scene of a -comic opera. - -For a moment, I left the green to itself, while I looked at my -unrefractive countrywoman with an emotion evenly divided between pity -and envy. For had she not reached the ultimate happiness, the apotheosis -of content only possible to the wealthy Nitro-Bromide? And what was I -that I should depreciate such soul-filling satisfaction? And why should -my carping analysis dub it ignorance? Why, indeed! - -After a few more green miles, an important-mannered guard, who proved to -be also guide, philosopher, and friend, piloted me to a dining-car which -might have been a part of the rolling-stock of the Pennsylvania -Railroad. - -Nothing about it suggested the anticipated English discomfort, unless it -might be the racks for the glasses, which, after all, relieved one of -certain vague apprehensions. - -But at dinner it was my good luck to sit in a quartet, the other three -members of which were typical English people. - -I suppose it is a sort of reflex nervous action that makes people who -eat together chummy at once. The fact of doing the same thing at the -same time creates an involuntary sympathy which expands with the effects -of physical refreshment. - -I patted myself on my mental shoulder as I looked at the three pleasant -English faces, and I suddenly became aware that, though of a different -color, they affected me with exactly the same sensation as the clean, -green English scenery. - -This, I conclude, was because English people are so essentially a part -of their landscape, a statement true of no Americans save the aboriginal -Indian tribes. - -My table-mates were a perfect specimen of the British matron, her -husband, and her daughter. I should describe them as well-bred, but that -term seems to imply an effect of acquisition by means of outside -influences. They were, rather, well-born, in a sense that implies -congenital good-breeding. - -Their name was Travers, and we slid into conversation as easily as a -launching ship slides down into the water. Naturally I asked them to -tell me of London, explaining that it was my first visit there, and I -wished to know how to manage it. - -“What London do you want to use?” asked Mr. Travers, interestedly. “You -know there are many Londons for the entertainment of visitors. We can -give you the Baedeker London, or Dickens’s London, or Stevenson’s -London, or Bernard Shaw’s London, or Whistler’s London——” - -“Or our own W. D. Howells’s London,” I finished, as he paused in his -catalogue. - -“I think,” I went on, “the London I want is a composite affair, and I -shall compile it as I go along. You know Browning says ‘The world is -made for each of us,’ and so I think there’s a London made for each of -us, and we have only to pick it out from among the myriad others.” - -“That’s quite true,” said Mrs. Travers. “You’ll be using, do you see, -many bits of those Londons mentioned, but combining them in such a way -as to make an individual London all your own.” - -The prospect delighted me, and I mentally resolved to build up such a -London as never was on land or sea. - -“But,” I observed, “aside from an individually theorized London, there -must be a practical side that is an inevitable accompaniment. There must -be facts as well as opinions. I should be most glad of any hints or -advices from experienced and kind-hearted Londoners.” - -“Without doubt,” said Mr. Travers, “the question trembling on the tip of -your tongue is the one that trembles on the tip of every American tongue -that lands on our shores—‘What fee shall I give a cabman?’” - -I laughed outright at this, for it was indeed one of my collection of -tongue-tipped questions. - -[Illustration: He treats you to his opinion of you in choice -Billingsgate.] - -“But, sadly enough,” went on the Englishman, “it is a question that it -is useless for me to answer you at present. An American must be in -London for four years before he can believe the true solution of the -cab-fee problem. The correct procedure is to give the cabby nothing -beyond his legal fare. If you give him tuppence, he looks at you -reproachfully; if you give him fourpence, he scowls at you fearfully; if -you give him sixpence, he treats you to his verbal opinion of you in -choice Billingsgate. Whereas, if you give him no gratuity, he assumes -that you have lived here for four years, and lifts his hat to you with -the greatest respect.” - -“Why can’t I follow your rule at once?” I demanded. - -“I do not know,” returned Mr. Travers. “Nobody knows; but the fact -remains that you cannot. You think you believe the theory now, because -you hear me set it forth with an air of authority; but it will take you -at least four years to attain a true working knowledge of it. Moreover, -you will ask every Englishman you meet regarding cab-fees, and so -conflicting will be their advices that you will change your tactics with -every hansom you ride in.” - -“Then,” said I, with an air of independence, “I shall keep out of -hansom-cabs, until I am fully determined what course to pursue in this -regard.” - -“But you can’t, my dear lady,” continued my instructor. “To be in London -is to be in a hansom. They are inevitable.” - -“Why not omnibuses?” I asked, eager for general information. “I have -long wanted to ride in or on a London ’bus.” - -Mr. Travers’s eyes twinkled. - -“You have an American joke,” he said, “which cautions people against -going into the water before they learn how to swim. I will give you an -infallible rule for ’buses: never get on a London ’bus until you have -learned to get on and off of them while they are in motion.” - -[Illustration: “What waggery,” observed Mrs. Travers.] - -“What waggery!” observed Mrs. Travers, in a calm, unamused tone, and I -suddenly realized that I was in the midst of an English sense of humor. - -The dinner progressed methodically through a series of specified -courses, and when we had reached the vegetable marrow I had ceased to -regard the green distance outside and gave my full attention to my lucky -find of the Real Thing in English people. - -Mr. Travers’s advice was always excellent and practical, though usually -hidden in a jest of somewhat heavy _persiflage_. - -We discussed the English tendency to elide letters or syllables from -their proper names, falling back on the time-worn example of the -American who complained that Englishmen spell a name B-e-a-u-c-h-a-m-p -and pronounce it _Chumley_. - -“But it’s better for an American,” said Mr. Travers, “to pronounce a -name as it is spelled than to elide at his own sweet will. I met a -Chicagoan last summer, who said he intended to run out to Win’c’s’le.” - -“What _did_ he mean?” I asked, in my ignorance. - -“Windsor Castle,” replied Mr. Travers, gravely. - -The mention of Chicago made me remember my companion in the parlor car, -and I spoke of her as one type of the American tourist. - -“I saw her,” said Mrs. Travers, with that inimitable air of separateness -that belongs to the true Londoner; “she is not interesting. Merely a -smart party who wears a hat.” - -As this so competently described the lady from Chicago, I began to -suspect, what I later came thoroughly to realize, that the English are -wonderfully adept in the making of picturesque phrases. - -[Illustration: “Merely a smart party who wears a hat.”] - -During our animated conversation, Miss Travers had said almost nothing. - -I had read of the mental blankness of the British Young Person, and was -not altogether surprised at this. - -But the girl was a delight to look at. By no means of the pink-cheeked, -red-lipped variety immortalized in English novels, she was of a delicate -build, with a face of transparent whiteness. Her soft light brown hair -was carelessly arranged, and her violet eyes would have been pathetic -but for a flashing, merry twinkle when she occasionally raised their -heavy, creamy lids. - -Remembering Mrs. Travers’s aptness in coining phrases of description, I -tried to put Rosalind Travers into a few words, but was obliged to -borrow from the Master-Coiner, and I called her “The Person of -Moonshine.” - -By the time I was having my first interview with real Cheddar cheese, -the Traverses were inviting me to visit them, and I was gladly accepting -their delightfully hospitable and unmistakably sincere invitation. - -Scrupulously careful to bid good-bye to my Chicago friend before we -reached London, alone I stepped from the train at Euston Station with a -feeling of infinite anticipation. - -Owing probably to an over-excited imagination, the mere physical -atmosphere of the city impressed me as something quite different from -any city I had ever seen. I felt as if I had at last come into my own, -and had far more the attitude of a returning wanderer than a visiting -stranger. - -The hansom-cabs did not appear any different from the New York vehicles -of the same name, but I climbed into one without that vague wonder as to -whether it wouldn’t be cheaper to buy the outfit than to pay my fare. - -My destination was a club in Piccadilly—a woman’s club, which I had -joined for the sole purpose of using its house as an abiding-place. - -The cab-driver was cordial, even solicitous about my comfort, but -finally myself and my hand-luggage were carefully stowed away, the glass -was put down, and we started. - -It was after dark, and it was raining, two conditions which might appall -an unescorted woman in a strange city. The rain was of that ridiculous -English sort, where the drops do not fall, but play around in the air, -now and then whisking into the faces of passers-by, but never spoiling -their clothes. It was enough, though, to wet the asphalt, and when we -swung into Piccadilly, and the flashing lights from everywhere dived -down into the street, and rippled themselves across the wet blackness of -the pavement, I suddenly realized that I was driving over one of the -most beautiful things in the world. - -I looked out through my hansom-glass darkly, at London. Unknown, -mysterious, silent, but enticing with its twinkling eyes, it was like a -masked beauty at a ball. Yet, beneath that mocking, elusive witchery, I -was conscious of an implied promise, that my London would yet unmask, -and I should know and love her face to face. - - - - -[Illustration] _IV._ _Mayfair in the Fair Month of May_ - -I suppose that the earliest thing that happens anywhere is the London -dawn. In all my life, my waking hours had never reached three o’clock -A.M., from either direction, and when, on the first morning after my -arrival in London, I was awakened at that hour by a gently intrusive -daybreak, I felt as if I had received a personal and intentional -affront. - -I rose, and stalked to the window, with an air of haughty reproach, -intending to close the shutters tightly until a more seemly hour. - -As there are only six window-shutters in the whole city of London, it is -not surprising that none of these was attached to my window; but it -really didn’t matter, for after reaching the window that morning I never -thought of a shutter again until I returned to America. - -My window, which was a large French affair in three parts, looked out -upon Piccadilly. It opened on a small stone-railed balcony, and as I -looked out three pigeons looked in. They were of the fat and pompous -kind and they strutted along the railing, with a frankly sociable air, -cocking their heads pertly in an endeavor to draw my attention to the -glistening iridescence of their neck-feathers. - -I liked the pigeons, and I told them so, but even better I liked the -sight across the street. - -Green Park at dawn is as solemnly impressive as the interior of -Westminster Abbey. The trees sway and quiver, giving an occasional -glimpse of the Clock Tower of Parliament House. From the throats of -myriad birds comes a sound as of one blended twitter, and a strange, -unreal radiance pervades the whole scene. With the rapidly increasing -daylight definiteness ensues, and railings, benches, roadway, and other -details of the Park add strength to the picture. - -Having seen three o’clock in Green Park, I promptly forgot my errand -with the shutters, and, hastily donning conventional morning costume, I -prepared to watch four o’clock, and five, and six appear from the same -direction. - -[Illustration: They were occupying the only earthly home they -possessed.] - -As outlines became clearer I noticed a park bench directly opposite my -window, on which sat four old women. All were garbed in black, and all -were sleeping soundly. I was then unaware of the large proportion of the -elderly feminine in London’s seamy side of population, and so casual was -the aspect of the quartet that it did not occur to me they were -occupying the only earthly home they possessed. - -They seemed to me more like duplicate Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshines, who -had paused for a time in Green Park instead of in mid-ocean. - -But after I had seen the same women there at three o’clock on a dozen -consecutive mornings I began to realize that they were part of the -landscape. - -Nor was I unduly sorry for them. They sat on that bench with the same -air of voluntary appropriation that marked the birds in the trees, or -the pigeons on the railing. And as the days went on I became accustomed -to seeing them there, and ceased to feel any inclination to go out and -try to persuade them to enter an old ladies’ home. - -At about seven o’clock the omnibuses began to ply. I had never known -before what was indicated by the verb _to ply_. But I saw at once that -it is the only word that properly expresses the peculiar gait of an -omnibus, which is a cross between a rolling lurch and a lumbering -wobble. Fascination is a mild term for the effect these things had on -me. - -One omnibus might not so enthrall me. I don’t know; I have never seen -one omnibus alone. But the procession of them along Piccadilly is the -one thing on earth of which I cannot conceive myself becoming tired. - -Their color, form, motion, and sound all partake of the primeval, and -their continuity of effect is eternal. - -My Baedeker tells me that the first omnibuses plying in London were -“much heavier and clumsier than those now in use.” But of course this is -a mistake, for they couldn’t have been. - -I have heard that tucked away among the gay-colored advertisements that -are patchworked all over these moving Mammoth Caves are small and -neatly-lettered signs designating destinations. I do not know this. I -have never been able to find them. But it doesn’t matter. To get to -Hampstead Heath, you take a Bovril; to go to the City, take Carter’s -Ink; and to get anywhere in a hurry, jump on a Horlick’s Malted Milk. -There is also a graceful serpentine legend lettered down the back of -each ’bus, but as this usually says “Liverpool Street,” I think it can’t -mean much. - -Personally, I never patronize one of the things. They are too uncanny -for me, and their ways are more devious than those of our Seventeenth -Street horse-cars. - -Besides, I always feared that, if I got in or on one, I couldn’t see the -rest of them as a whole. And it is the unbroken continuity that, after -the coloring, is their greatest charm. I have spent many hours watching -the Piccadilly procession of them, “like a wounded snake drag its slow -length along,” and look forward to many hours more of the same delight. -But the dawn, the daybreak, and the early morning slipped away, and all -too soon my first day in London had begun. - -My mail brought me difficulties of all sorts. There were invitations -from people, whom well-meaning mutual friends had advised of my arrival. -There were offers from friends or would-be friends to escort me about on -shopping or sight-seeing tours. There were cards for functions of more -or less formality, and there were circulars from tradesmen and -professional people. - -With a Gordian-knot-cutting impulse, I tossed the whole collection into -my desk, and started out alone for a morning walk. - -[Illustration: Tossed the whole collection into my desk.] - -Nor shall I ever forget that walk. Not only because it was a “first -impression,” but because it was the most beautiful piece of -pedestrianism that ever fell to my lot. - -My clubhouse home was almost at the corner of Hamilton Place, and as I -stepped from its portal out into Piccadilly I seemed to breathe the -quintessence of London, past, present, and to come. - -Meteorologically speaking, the atmosphere was perfect. The reputation -for fogginess, that London has somehow acquired, is a base libel. Its -air is marked by a dazzling clearness of haze that, more than anything -else, “life’s leaden metal into gold transmutes.” - -Thus exhilarated at the start, I began my stroll down Piccadilly, and at -every step I added to my glowing sense of satisfied well-being. I turned -north into Berkeley Street, and thus started on my first sight-seeing -tour. And was it not well that I was by myself? - -For the most kind and well-meaning cicerone would probably have said, - -“Do you not want to see the house where Carlyle died?” - -And how embarrassed would I have been to be obliged to make reply: - -“No, not especially. But I do want to see where Tomlinson gave up the -ghost in his house in Berkeley Square.” - -Nor would my guide have been able to point out that perhaps mythical -residence. But I had no trouble in finding it. Unerring instinct guided -me along Berkeley Square, till I reached what I felt sure was the very -house, and since I was satisfied, what mattered it to any one else? - -This being accomplished, I next proceeded in a desultory and -inconsequent fashion to explore Mayfair. - -Aided, like John Gay, by the goddess Trivia, I knew I could - - securely stray - Where winding alleys lead the doubtful way; - The silent court and opening square explore, - And long perplexing lanes untrod before. - -And as I trod, I suddenly found myself in Curzon Street. This was a -pleasant sensation, for did I not well know the name of Curzon Street -from all the English novels I had ever read? Moreover, I knew that in -one of its houses Lord Beaconsfield died, and in another the Duke of -Marlborough lived. The detail of knowing which house was which possessed -no interest for me. - -I rambled on, marvelling at the suddenness with which streets met each -other, and their calm disregard of all method or symmetry, till I began -to feel like “the crooked man who walked a crooked mile.” - -Attracted by the name of Half-Moon Street, I left Curzon Street for it. -Shelley once lived in this street, and I selected three houses any one -of which might have been his home. I went back, I traversed some -delightful mewses (what _is_ the plural of mews?), crossed Berkeley -Square, and then, somehow or other, I found myself in Bond Street, and -my mood changed. At first the shops seemed unattractive and I felt -disappointment edging itself into my soul. - -But like an ugly woman, possessed of charm, the crammed-full windows -began to fascinate me, and I forgot the inadequate sidewalks and -unpretentious façades in the absorbing displays of wares. - -Bond Street shop-windows are hypnotic. Fifth Avenue windows stolidly -hold their exhibits up to one’s view, without a trace of invitation, but -Bond Street windows compel one to enter, by a sort of uncanny influence -impossible to resist. - -Though I expected to shop in London, there was only one article that I -was really anxious to buy. This was a jade cube. For many years I had -longed for a jade cube, and American experts had contented themselves -with stating there was no such thing in existence. Time after time, I -had begged friends who were going to the ends of the earth to bring me -back a jade cube from one of the ends, but none had accomplished my -errand. - -I determined therefore to use every effort to secure a jade cube for -myself, and forthwith began my quest. - -A mineralogist on Bond Street showed more interest at once than any of -my personal friends had ever evinced. Though he declared there was no -such thing in existence, he further remarked his entire willingness to -cut one for me from the best quality of Chinese jade. - -[Illustration: He was quite as interested.] - -He was quite as interested as I was myself, and, though it seemed -inartistic to end so quickly what I had expected to be a long and -difficult quest, I left the order. - -The cube turned out a perfect success, and will always be one of my -dearest and best-loved possessions. It has the same charm of perfection -that characterizes a Japanese rock-crystal ball, and the added interest -of being unique. There was, too, a charm in the interest shown in the -cube by the old mineralogist, and also by his wife. - -The day I went after the completed polished cube, the elderly madame -came into the shop from a back room, to congratulate me on the -attainment of my desire. - -Incidentally, the good people endeavored (and successfully) to persuade -me to buy further of their wares. - -They had a bewildering assortment of semi-precious stones, curious -minerals, and wrought metals and strange bits of handiwork from foreign -countries. Beads, of course, in profusion, and fascinatingly ugly little -idols. As all these things have great charm for me, and as I am always -easily persuaded to buy, I bought largely, to the great satisfaction of -the elderly shopkeepers. But, as I had learned a little of their tricks -and their manners I offered them, a bit shamefacedly, a lower price in -each instance than they asked. To my relief, they took this proceeding -quite as a matter of course, and cheerfully accepted the smaller sum -without demur. - -But to return to that first morning, after my interview with the -mild-mannered mineralogist I strolled along Old Bond Street back to -Piccadilly. - -The Tennyson’s Brook of omnibuses was still going on, and I stood on the -corner to watch them again. From this point of view the effect is quite -different from that seen from an upstairs window. - -You cease to generalize about the procession, and regard the individual -’bus with a new awe. - -The ocean may be wider,—the Flatiron Building may be taller,—but -there’s nothing in all the world so big as a London omnibus. - - - - -[Illustration] _V._ _A Hostess at Home_ - -An English telephone is a contradiction in terms. If it is in England, -it isn’t a telephone. It is a thing that looks something like a broken -ox-yoke, that is manipulated something like a trombone, and is about as -effectual as the Keeley Motor. - -A course of lessons is necessary to learn to use one, but the lessons -are wasted, as the instrument is invariably out of order, and moreover, -nobody has one, anyhow. - -But one morning, before I had discovered all this, I was summoned to the -telephone booth of the Pantheon Club, and blithely grasped the -cumbersome affair, with its receiver on one end and its transmitter on -the other. I ignorantly held it wrong end to, but that made no -difference, as it wouldn’t work either way. - -“Grawsp it stiffer, madame,” advised the anxious Buttons who engineered -it. At length I discovered that this meant to press firmly on a fret, as -if playing a flute, but by this time the party addressing me had been -disconnected from the other end, and all attempts to regain -communication were futile. - -[Illustration: “Grawsp it stiffer, M’am.”] - -The boy took the instrument, and I have never seen a finer display of -human ingenuity and patience than he showed for the next half-hour -trying to hear that chord again. Then he gave it up, and, laying the -horrid thing gently in its cradle, he nonchalantly informed me that if -the party awrsked for me again, he’d send me naotice, and then demanded -tuppence. - -This I willingly paid, as I was always glad to get rid of those copper -heavy-weights; and, too, it seemed a remarkably small price even for a -telephone call,—until I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t made the -call,—nor had I received it. - -The call was repeated later, and after another distracting session of -incoherent shouting, and painfully-cramped finger muscles, I learned -that I was invited to an informal dinner that evening at Mrs. -Marchbanks’s at seven-thirty. - -I had not intended to plunge into the social whirl so soon, and had -declined all the many invitations which had come to me by mail. - -But somehow the telephone invitation took me unawares, and, too, I was -so pleased to succeed in getting the message at all that it seemed -ungracious and ungrateful to refuse. So, I took a fresh grip on the -fretted monster, and, aiming my voice carefully at the far-away -transmitter, I shouted an acceptance. I hoped it reached the goal, but -as there was nothing but awful silence afterward, I had to take it on -faith, and I went away to look over my dinner gowns. - -The invitation had been classed as “informal,” but I knew the elasticity -of that term, and so, though I did not select my very best raiment, I -chose a pretty _décolleté_ frock, that had “New York” legibly written on -its every fold and pucker. - -So late is the dusk of the London spring that I easily made my toilette -by daylight, and was all ready at seven o’clock. - -Carefully studying my Baedeker maps and plans to make sure of the -distance, I stepped into my hansom just in time to reach my destination -at a minute or two before half past seven, assuming that New York -customs prevailed in England. - -The door was opened to me by an amazed-looking maid, who seemed so -uncertain what to do with me that I almost grew embarrassed myself. - -Finally, she asked me to follow her up-stairs, and then ushered me into -a room where my hostess, in the hands of her maid, was in the earliest -stages of her toilette. - -“You dear thing,” she said, “how sweet of you to come. Yes, Louise, that -_aigrette_ is right. Here is the key of my jewel case.” - -“I fear I have mistaken the hour,” I said; “the telephone was a bit -difficult,—but I understood half past seven.” - -“Yes,” agreed Mrs. Marchbanks, studying the back of her head in a -hand-mirror, “but in London seven-thirty means eight, you know.” - -This was definite information, and I promptly stored it away for future -use. Also, it was reliable information, for it proved true, and at eight -the guests began to arrive. - -Dinner was served at quarter to nine, and all was well. - -Incidentally I had learned my lesson. - -The half-hour in the drawing-room before dinner was an interesting -“first impression” of that indescribable combination of warmth and frost -known as a London Hostess. - -Further experience taught me that Mrs. Marchbanks was a typical one. - -The London hostess’s invariable mode of procedure is a sudden, -inordinate gush of welcome, followed immediately by an icy stare. By the -time you have politely responded to the welcome, your hostess has -forgotten your existence. Nay, more, she seems almost to have forgotten -her own. She is vague, self-absorbed, and quite oblivious of your -existence. I have heard of a lady with a gracious presence. The London -hostess is best described by _a gracious absence_. - -But having adapted yourself to this condition, your hostess is likely to -whirl about and dart a remark or a question at you. - -On the evening under discussion, my hostess suddenly broke off her own -greeting to another guest, to say to me, “Of course you’ll be wanting to -buy some new clothes at once.” - -This statement was accompanied by a deliberate survey, from _berthe_ to -hem, of my palpably American-made gown, and as the incident pleased my -sense of humor, I felt no resentment, and amiably acquiesced in her -decision. - -Then, funnily enough, the conversation turned upon good-breeding. - -“A well-bred Englishwoman,” my hostess dictatorially observed, “never -talks of herself. She tactfully makes the person to whom she is talking -the subject of conversation.” - -“But,” said I, “if the person to whom she is talking is also well-bred, -he must reject that subject, and tactfully talk about the first speaker. -This must bring about a deadlock.” She looked at me, or rather through -me, in a pitying, uncomprehending way, and went on: - -“The well-bred Englishwoman never makes an allusion or an implication -that could cause even the slightest trace of discomfiture or annoyance -to the person addressed.” - -This, of itself, seemed true enough, but again she turned swiftly toward -me, and abruptly inquired, “Doesn’t the servility of the English -servants embarrass you?” - -This time, too, my sense of humor saved me from embarrassment, but I -began to think serious-minded persons should not brave the slings and -arrows of a well-bred Englishwoman. - -Geniality and ingenuousness are alike unknown to the English hostess. It -is a very rare thing to meet a _charming_ Englishwoman. Good traits they -have in plenty and many sterling qualities which Americans often lack, -but magnetism and responsiveness are as a rule not among these -qualities. - -And I do not yet know whether it is through ignorance or with _malice -prepense_ that an English hostess greets you effusively, and then drops -you with an air of finality that gives a “lost your last friend” feeling -more than anything else in all the world. - -This state of things is of course more pronouncedly noticeable at teas -than at dinners. At an afternoon reception, the hostility of the hostess -is beyond all words. Moreover, at English afternoon teas there are two -rules. One is you may not speak to a fellow-guest without an -introduction. The other is that no introduction is necessary between -guests of the house. One of these rules is always inflexibly enforced at -every tea; but the casual guest never knows which one, and so -complications ensue. - -English hostesses always seem to me very much like that peculiar kind of -flowered chintz with which they cover their furniture—the kind that -looks like oilcloth, and is very cold and shiny, very beautiful, very -slippery, and decidedly uncomfortable. - -But in inverse proportion to the conversational unsatisfactoriness of -the English women are the entertaining powers of the English men. They -are voluntarily delightful. They make an effort (if necessary) to be -pleasantly talkative and amusing. - -And, notwithstanding the traditional slurs on British humor, the English -society man is deliciously humorous, and often as brilliantly witty as -our own Americans. - -At the dinner I have mentioned above, I was seated next to a somewhat -insignificant-looking young man of true English spick-and-spanness, and -with a delightful drawl, almost like the one written as dialect in -international novels. - -Perhaps in consideration of my probable American attitude toward British -humor, he good-naturedly amused me with jokes directed against his -national peculiarities. - -He described graphically an Englishman who was blindly groping about in -his brain for a good story which he had heard and stored away there. -“Ah, yes,” said the supposed would-be jester; “the man was ill; and he -said his physician advised that he should every morning take a cup of -coffee and take a walk around the place.” - -[Illustration: He amused me with jokes directed against his national -peculiarities.] - -“He had missed the point, do you see,” explained my amusing neighbor, -“and the joke should have been ‘take a cup of coffee, and take a walk on -the grounds,’ do you see?” - -So pleased was the young man with the whole story, that I laughed in -sympathy, and he went on to say: - -“But you Americans make just the same mistakes about our jokes. Now only -last week _Punch_ had a ripping line asking why the Americans were -making such a fuss about Bishop Potter, and said any one would think he -was a meat-potter. Now one of your New York daily papers borrowed the -thing, and made it read, ‘What’s the matter with Bishop Potter? Any one -would think he was a meat packer.’ ’Pon my honor, Miss Emmins, I know -that for a fact!” - -“Then I think,” I replied, “that we ought never again to throw stones at -the British sense of humor.” - -In the pause that followed, a bulky English lord across the table was -heard denouncing the course taken by a certain political party. So -energetic were his gestures, and so forceful his speech, that he had -grown very red and belligerent-looking, and fairly hammered the table in -his indignation. - -[Illustration: Denouncing the course taken by a certain political -party.] - -The young man next to me looked at him, as an indulgent father might -look at a naughty child. “Isn’t he the saucy puss?” said my neighbor, -turning to me with such a roguish smile that his remark seemed the -funniest thing I had ever heard. - -I frankly told my attractive dinner partner that the men of London -society were far more entertaining than the women. He did not seem -surprised at this, but seemed to look upon it as an accepted condition. - -I glanced across the table at a young Englishwoman. She was an -“Honorable,” and possessed of a jointed surname. She was attired with -great wealth and unbecomingness, and, to sum her up in a general way, -she looked as if she did _not_ write poetry. - -[Illustration: She was an “Honorable” and possessed of a jointed -surname.] - -“Yes,” she was saying, “cabs are cheap with us, but if you ride a lot in -a day, they count up.” This is a stock remark with London women and I -was not surprised to hear it again. - -I glanced at my young man. He too had heard, and he quickly caught my -mental attitude. - -“Yes,” he said, “Englishwomen and girls are very fit; they’re good form, -accomplished, and all that. But, though they know a lot, somehow, -er,—their minds don’t jell.” - -As this exactly expressed my own opinion, I was delighted at his clever -phrasing of it. - -But if the Englishman is charming as a dinner guest, he is even more so -when he is host, as he often is at afternoon tea. And though I attended -many teas presided over by London men, all others fade into -insignificance beside the one given me at the _Punch_ office. - -I was the only guest, the host was the genial and miraculously clever -Editor of _Punch_. - -The tea was of the ordinary London deliciousness, the cakes and thin -bread-and-butter were, as always, over there, the best in the world; but -it was served to us on the historic _Punch_ table, the great table where -every Friday night, since the beginning of that publication, its -editorial staff has dined. - -And as each diner at some time cut his monogram into the table, the -semi-polished surface shows priceless memorials of the great British -authors, artists, and illustrators. - -I was informed by my kind host that I might sit at any place I chose. I -hesitated between Thackeray’s and Mark Lemon’s, but finally by a sudden -impulse I dropped into a chair in front of the monogram of George du -Maurier. - -The Editor of _Punch_ smiled a little, but he only said, “You Americans -are a humorous people.” - - - - -[Illustration] _VII._ _The Light on Burns’s Brow._ - -My own subjective London was achieving itself. I have always remembered -pleasantly, how, - - Without a bit of trouble, - Arabella blew a bubble, - -and, with emulative ease, I blew a beautiful, impalpable, iridescent -sphere and called it London. - -To be sure, a single interrogation point from an earnest Tourist would -have burst my bubble, for my whole London hadn’t a Tower or a British -Museum in it. - -Nor was this an oversight. Calling to my aid a moral courage that was -practically a moral hardihood, I had deliberately concluded I would do -no sightseeing. Not that I objected to seeing a sight, now and then, but -the sight would have to put itself in my way, and the conditions would -have to be such that I should prefer to go through the sight rather than -around it. - -Indeed, it was largely the word _sightseeing_ that I took exception to. -Such a very defective verb! Who would voluntarily put herself in a -position to say, “I sightsaw the National Gallery yesterday,” or “I have -sightseen the whole City,” and then have no proper parts of speech to -say it with? - -Moreover, I was not willing to go about my London carrying a Baedeker. -In truth, my soul was possessed of conflicting emotions toward that -little red book. As a directory it was invaluable. Never did I get an -invitation to a place of mysterious sound, such as Kensington Gore, or -Bird-in-Bush Road, but I ran to my Baedeker and quickly found therein -the location, description, and directions for reaching the same. I soon -mastered the pink and gray maps, with their clever contrivance of -corresponding numbers, and with my Baedeker back of me I could have -found the most obscure and bewildering address that even a Londoner is -capable of devising. - -But the pages devoted to “Sights which Should on No Account be Omitted,” -and the kindly advice on “Disposition of Time for the Hurried Visitor,” -I avoided with all the strength of my unsightseeing soul. - -[Illustration: The ingenious efforts of tourists to disguise their -Baedekers.] - -I was often amused at the ingenious efforts of tourists to disguise -their Baedekers. One tailor-made American girl had hers neatly covered -with bright blue paper, quite oblivious of the fact that the marbled -edges and fluttering red and black tapes are unmistakable. Another, a -pedagogic Bostonian, had hers wrapped in brown paper and tied with a -string. Another had a leather case which exactly fitted the volume. And -I thought that as the nude in art is far less suggestive than the -semi-draped figure, so the uncovered red book was really less noticeable -than these futile attempts at disguise. - -Having, then, definitely decided that I should eventually return to -America without having set foot in the Tower, the Bank or the -Charter-house, I drew a long breath of content, and gave myself up to -the delight of just living in the atmosphere of my own London. - -And yet, I wanted to go to the Tower, the Bank, and the Charter-house. I -wanted to go to Westminster Abbey and Saint Paul’s and the National -Gallery. But I did not want to go for the first time. I wanted to -revisit these places, and how could I do that when I had never yet -visited them? - -First impressions of Piccadilly or Hyde Park are all very well, but -first impressions are incongruous in connection with Westminster Abbey. -What has crude admiration to do with experienced sublimity? How absurd -to let the gaze of surprise rest upon age-accustomed glory! What -presumption to look at solemn ancient grandeur as at a novelty! I wished -that I had been to Westminster Abbey many, many times, and that I could -drift in again some lovely summer afternoon to revive old memories and -renew old emotions. - -But as this might not be, then would I keep away from it entirely, and -study it from books as I had always done. - -One day a departing caller carelessly left behind her a pamphlet -entitled _The Deanery Guide to Westminster Abbey_. With a natural -curiosity I picked it up and opened it. - -[Illustration: That bore an advertisement of Rowland’s Macassar Oil!] - -But I got no farther than the first fly-leaf, for that bore an -advertisement of _Rowland’s Macassar Oil_! I promptly forgot the -existence of Westminster Abbey in the delight of finding that my London -contained such a desirable commodity. Not that I wished to purchase the -lotion, but I was absorbingly interested to learn that there really was -such a thing. I had never heard of it before except in connection with -the Aged, aged man, a-sitting on a gate, who manufactured Rowland’s -Macassar Oil from mountain rills which he chanced to set ablaze. The -remembrance of that dear old white-haired man, placidly going his ways, -and content with the tuppence ha’-penny that rewarded his toil, filled -my soul to the exclusion of all else, and he made a welcome addition to -the census of my own London. It was pleasant, too, to reflect on the -sound logic of the English people when they coined the word -“anti-macassar.” How much more restrictedly definite than our word -“tidy”! - -Well, then next it came about that I went for a walk. - -And, as was bound to happen sooner or later, I was strolling -unthinkingly along, when I found myself with the Houses of Parliament on -my right hand and Westminster Abbey on my left. I was fairly caught, and -surrendered at discretion. The only question was which way to turn. As I -had no choice in the matter, I should logically have gone, like John -Buridan’s Ass, straight ahead, and so missed both; but the Abbey, with -an almost imperceptible nod of invitation, compelled me to turn that -way, and involuntarily, though not at all unwillingly, I entered. - -Whereupon I made the startling discovery that I was in the Poets’ -Corner! Now, I had definitely planned that if ever I _did_ visit the -Abbey, I would enter by the North Transept, and gradually accustom -myself to the atmosphere of the place. I would go away after a short -inspection, and return several times to revisit it, before I even -approached the Poets’ Corner. And to find myself thus unexpectedly and -somewhat informally introduced to an inscription attesting the rarity of -Ben Jonson, took me unawares, and my eyes rested coldly on the words, -and then passed on, still uninterestedly, to Spencer, Milton, and Gray. - -[Illustration: I took a few tentative steps, which brought me to the -bust of our own Longfellow.] - -Uncertain whether to advance or retreat I took a few tentative steps, -which brought me to the bust of our own Longfellow. The dignified and -old-school New Englander is here represented as a plump-faced and jovial -gentleman with very curly hair. The marble is excessively white and -new-looking, and altogether the monument suggests the Longfellow who -wrote “There was a little girl, who had a little curl,” rather than the -author of _Evangeline_. But if not of poetic effect, the bust is -satisfactory as a fine type of American manhood, so I smiled back at it, -and passed on. - -Then, by chance, I turned into the South Transept. - -It was about five o’clock on a midsummer afternoon, the hour, as I have -often since proved, when the spell of the Poets’ Corner is most -potent—the hour when a prismatic shaft of sunlight strikes exactly on -the marble forehead of Burns, and flickering sun-rays light up the face -of Southey. There, above the mortal remains of Henry Irving, I stood, -and as I looked up, I knew that at last Westminster Abbey and I were at -one. - -For I saw Shakespeare. - -It was not the emotional atmosphere of the place, for that had not as -yet affected me. It was not historic association, for I knew -Shakespeare’s bones did not rest there. It was not the inherent, -artistic worth of the sculptured figure, for I knew that it has never -been looked upon as a masterpiece, and that Walpole, or somebody, called -it “preposterous.” But it was Shakespeare, and from his eyes there shone -all the wonder, the beauty, and the immortality of his genius. - -I am told the whole monument is wrong in composition and in execution, -but that is merely - - A fault to pardon in the drawing’s lines,— - Its body, so to speak; its soul is right. - -Or at least it was to me, and from that moment I felt at home in -Westminster Abbey. - -Without leaving the United States, I could have found a more magnificent -statue of Shakespeare in our own Library of Congress, but no other -representation of him, in paint or stone, has ever portrayed to my mind -the personality of the poet as does the Abbey monument. - -I invited emotions and they accepted with thanks. They came in crowds, -rushing, and soon I was unqualifiedly certain that I would rather be -dead in Westminster Abbey than alive out of it. Having reached this -important decision, I broke off my emotions at their height and went -home. - -The next day, as the sunlight touched Burns’s uplifted brow, I was there -again, and the next, and the next. - -The first impressions being comfortably over, Shakespeare and I became -very good friends, without the necessity for heaving breast and -suppressed tears on my part. - -I had affable feelings, too, toward many of the other great and -near-great. It amused me to learn how many succeeded in getting into the -Abbey by the mere accident of dying while there was plenty of room. - -John Gay, they tell me, is one of the interlopers, and his epitaph, - - Life is a jest and all things show it; - I thought so once, but now I know it, - -is dubbed irreverent. - -But to my mind the irreverence is not in the sentiment, but in the fact -that it is placed upon his tomb, the responsibility therefore, even -though Gay requested it, lying with his survivors. Surely the man who -wrote _Trivia_ is as much entitled to honor as many others whose virtues -are set forth in stone. - -But if any one is disturbed by Gay’s irreverence, he has only to step -through the door which is close at hand, into the little chapel of St. -Faith. - -For some indefinable reason, this chapel breathes more the spirit of -reverence and holiness than any other in the Abbey. There is no especial -beauty of decoration here, but he who can enter the solemn little room -without putting up the most fervent prayer of his life must be of an -unresponsive nature indeed. - -[Illustration: He so dominates the group of tourists he conducts that -they often show signs of almost human intelligence.] - -It did not seem to me inharmonious to visit the Chapels of the Sanctuary -in charge of a verger. The Abbey guide is also a philosopher and friend. -His intoned information is pleasantly in keeping with the chiselled -epitaphs, and his personality is invariably delightful; and he so -dominates the group of tourists he conducts that they often show signs -of almost human intelligence. The guide answers questions, not -perfunctorily, but with an air of personal interest. To be sure, he -passes lightly over many of the most impressive figures and proudly -exhibits the fearsome Death who jabs a dart at Lady Nightingale, while -her husband politely endeavors to protect her. But after becoming -acquainted with the chapels one may return on free days and visit, -unescorted, the tomb of Sir Francis Vere. - -The Waxen Effigies greatly took my fancy. Hidden away in an upper room, -they are well worth the extra fee which it costs to see them. The verger -describes them with a show of real affection, and indeed, I felt -strangely drawn to the ghastly puppets, which are, undoubtedly, very -like the kings and queens they represent. William and Mary are easily -lodged in a case by themselves, and their brocades and velvets and real -laces are beautiful to look upon, though stiffened by age and dirt. -Elizabeth is a terror, and Charles the Second a horror, but vastly -fascinating in their weird dreadfulness. Again and again I returned to -my waxen friends, and found that they gave me more historic atmosphere -than their biographies or tombs. - -Hanging round the outside of the Abbey, I one day stumbled into St. -Margaret’s. The window is wonderful, of course, but I was more -interested in remembering that here Mr. Pepys married the wife of whom -he later naïvely chronicled: - -“She finds, with reason, that in the company of other women that I love, -I do not value her or mind her as I ought.” - -Having seen the church where Pepys was married, I felt an impulse to -visit the house where he died. But I was relieved rather than otherwise -to learn that no trace of the house now remains. - -And, anyway, the house where he died wasn’t the house where he made the -pathetic entry in his _Diary_: - -“Home, and, being washing day, dined upon cold meat.” - - - - -[Illustration] _VII._ _Certain Social Uncertainties_ - -Londoners have no definiteness of any sort. Their most striking trait -is, paradoxically, a vague uncertainty, and this is seen in everything -connected with London, from the weather to the gauzy, undecided, -wavering scarfs which the women universally wear. - -Indeed I do not know of anything that so perfectly represents the -mentality of an Englishwoman as these same uncertain morsels of drapery. - -This state of things is doubtless founded on a logical topographical -fact. Baedeker states that the city of London is built on a tract of -undulating clay soil, and the foundation of the average Londoner’s mind -seems to be of equal instability. - -I have learned from the recent newspapers that, owing to these -lamentable subsoil conditions, Saint Paul’s Cathedral is even now -cracking and crumbling, and parallel cases may sometime be noted among -the great minds of the Britons. - -I trust this will not be mistakenly thought to mean any disparagement to -the British mind, whether great or small. It is, I am sure, a matter of -taste; and the English people prefer their waveringness of brain, as the -Pisan Tower prefers to lean. - -The result of this state of things is, naturally, a lack of a sense of -proportion, and an absolute ignorance of values. - -And it is this that makes it impossible, or at least improbable, to -generalize about the manners and customs of London’s polite society; -though indeed anything so uncertain as their society ways can scarcely -be called customs. - -I received one morning from Mrs. C. a hastily-written note of invitation -to dine with her that same evening. - -“Quite informally,” the note said, “and afterward,” it went on, “we will -drop in at Lady Sutherland’s.” - -As I had learned that “quite informally” meant anything its writer chose -it to mean, I was uncertain as to the formality of the function, and, -having no idea who Lady Sutherland might be, I asked information of a -casual caller. - -[Illustration: “Why, in social importance, she’s only next to the -King!”] - -“Who is she?” was the response, “why, in social importance, she’s only -next to the King! that’s all! She’s the Duchess of Sutherland. She lives -in Stafford House. You may not be familiar with Stafford House, but it -is on record that when Queen Victoria was there, calling on a former -Duchess of Sutherland, she took her leave with the remark, ‘I will now -go from your palace to my humble home,’ referring to her own residence -in Buckingham.” - -[Illustration: And so for the informal dinner I arrayed myself.] - -I was dumfounded! To be invited to Stafford House in that careless way, -and to have the Duchess of Sutherland mentioned casually as Lady -Sutherland,—well! - -And so for the informal dinner I arrayed myself in the most elaborate -costume in my wardrobe. - -Nor was I overdressed. The informal dinner proved to be a most pompous -function, and after it we were all whisked into carriages, and taken to -the reception at Stafford House. - -Once inside of the beautiful palace I ceased to wonder at Queen -Victoria’s remark. Admitted to be the most beautiful of all English -private mansions, Stafford House seemed to my American inexperience far -more wonderful than Aladdin’s palace could possibly have been. - -The magnificent Entrance Hall, with its branching staircase and -impressive gallery, seemed an appropriate setting for the beautiful -Duchess, who stood on the staircase landing to greet her guests. Robed -in billows of white satin, and adorned with what seemed to me must be -the crown jewels, the charming, gracious lady was as simple and -unaffected of manner as any American girl. She greeted me with a -sincerity of welcome that had not lost its charm by having already been -accorded to thousands of others. - -Then, a mere atom of the thronging multitude, I was swept on by the -guiding hands of belaced and bepowdered lackeys, and, quite in keeping -with the unexpectedness of all things in London, I found myself suddenly -embarked on a sightseeing tour. But this was a sort of sightseeing -toward which I felt no objection. To be jostled by thousands, all -arrayed in costumes and jewels that were sights in themselves; to visit -not only the great picture gallery of Stafford House, but the smaller -apartments, rarely shown to visitors; to be treated by guests and -attendants as an honored friend of the family and not as an intruder; -all these things made me thoroughly enjoy what would otherwise have been -a sightseeing bore. - -It was a marvellous pageant, and to stand looking over the railing of -the high balcony at the crush of vague-expressioned lights of London -society, drifting slowly up the staircase in their own impassive way, -was to me a “Sight Which Should on No Account be Omitted.” - -With a sort of chameleonic tendency, I involuntarily acquired a similar -air, and like one in a dream I was introduced to celebrities of all -degrees. Authors of renown, artists of repute, soldiers of glorious -record, all were presented in bewildering succession. - -Their demeanor was invariably gracious, kindly, and charming; they -addressed me as if intensely interested in my well-being, past, present, -and future. And yet, combined with their warm interest, was that -indefinite, preoccupied, waveringness of expression, that made me feel -positive if I should suddenly sink through the floor the speaker would -go on talking just the same, quite unaware of my absence. - -The feast prepared for this grand army of society was on a scale -commensurate with the rest of the exhibition. - -Apparently, whoever was in charge had simply provided all there was in -the world of everything; and a guest had merely to mention a preference -for anything edible, and it was immediately served to him. - -The Londoners of course, being quite unaware what they wanted to eat, -vaguely suggested one thing or another at random; and the vague waiters, -apparently knowing the game, brought them something quite different. -These viands the Londoners consumed with satisfaction; but in what was -unmistakably a crass ignorance of what they were eating. - -All this fascinated me so that I greatly desired to try experiments, -such as sprinkling their food thickly with red pepper or putting sugar -in their wine. I have not the slightest doubt that they would have -calmly continued their repast, without the slightest suspicion of -anything wrong. - -The air of the “passive patrician” of London society is unmistakable, -inimitable, and absorbingly interesting; and never did I have a better -opportunity to observe it than at the beautiful reception at Stafford -House to which I was invited, “quite informally.” - -In contrast to this, and as a fine example of the Londoner’s utter -absence of a sense of proportion, listen to the tale of a lady who -called on me one day. - -I had met her before, but knew her very slightly. She was exceedingly -polite, and well-bred, and of very formal manner. - -The purpose of her call was to invite me to her house. She definitely -stated a date ten days hence, and asked if I would enjoy a -bread-and-milk supper. “For we are plain folk,” she said, “and do not -entertain on an elaborate scale.” - -I accepted with pleasure, and she went politely away. - -But I was not to be fooled by intimations of informality. “Bread and -milk,” indeed! _that_, I well knew, was a euphonious burlesque for a -high tea if not a sumptuous dinner. I remembered that she had called -personally to invite me; that she asked me ten days before the occasion; -and that the hour, seven o’clock, might mean anything at all. - -Therefore, when the day came, I donned evening costume, called a hansom, -and started. - -I had never been to the house before, and on reaching it found myself -confronted by a high stone wall and a broad wooden door. - -Pushing open the latter, I doubtfully entered, and seemed to be in a -large and somewhat neglected garden filled with a tangle of shrubs, -vines, and flowers. Magnificent old trees drooped their branches low -over the winding paths; rustic arbors, covered with earwiggy vines, -would have delighted Amy March; here and there a broken and -weather-beaten statue of stone or marble poked its head or its -headlessness up through the wandering branches. - -I started uncertainly along the most promising of the paths, and at last -came in sight of a house. - -A picturesque affair it was. A staircase ran up on the outside, and a -tree,—an actual tree—came up through the middle of the roof. It was -like a small, tall cottage, almost covered with rambling vines, and -surrounded by an irregular, paved court. - -From an inconspicuous portal my hostess advanced to greet me. She wore a -summer muslin, simply made, and I promptly felt embarrassed because of -my stunning evening gown. - -Her welcome was most cordial, and expressive of beaming hospitality. - -“You must enter by the back door,” she explained, “as the vines have -grown over the trellis, so that we cannot get around them to the front -door to enter; though of course we can go out at it. But this side of -the house is more picturesque, anyway. Do you not think it delightful?” - -A bit bewildered, I was ushered into a room, strange, but most -interesting. It contained a mantel and fireplace which had been -originally in Oliver Goldsmith’s house, and which was a valuable gem, -both intrinsically and by association. The other fittings of the room -were quite in harmony with this unique possession, and showed -experienced selection, and taste in arrangement. The next room, in the -centre of the house, was the one through which the tree grew. Straight -up, from floor to ceiling, the magnificent trunk formed a noble column, -around which had been built a somewhat undignified table. - -Another room was entirely furnished with wonderful specimens of old -Spanish marquetry—such exquisite pieces that it seemed unfair for one -person to own them all. Any one of them would have been a gem of any -collection. - -My friend was a charming hostess; and when her husband appeared, he -proved not only a charming host, but a marvellous conversationalist. - -So engrossed did we all become in talking, so quick were my friends at -repartee, so interesting the tales they told of their varied -experiences, that the time slipped away rapidly, and the quaint old -clock, which was a gem of some period or other, chimed eight before any -mention had been made of the evening meal. - -“Why, it’s after supper-time!” exclaimed my hostess, “let us go to the -dining-room at once.” - -The dining-room was another revelation. One corner was occupied by a -huge, high-backed angle-shaped seat of carved wood, which carried with -it the atmosphere of a ruined cathedral or a _Hofbrauhaus_. The latter -effect was perhaps due to the sturdy oaken table which had been drawn -into the corner, convenient to the great settee. - -After we were seated, a maid suddenly appeared. She was garbed in a -gorgeous and elaborate costume which seemed to be the perfection of a -peasant’s holiday attire. Huge gold earrings and strings of clinking -beads were worn with a confection of bright-colored satin and cotton -lace, which would have been conspicuous in the front row of a comic -opera chorus. - -[Illustration] - -If you’ll believe me, that Gilbert and Sullivan piece of property -brought in and served, with neatness and despatch, a meal which -consisted solely of bread and milk! - -The bowls were of Crown Derby, the milk in jugs of magnificent old ware, -and the old silver spoons were beyond price. - -Yet so accustomed had I become to unexpectedness, and so imbued was I -with the spirit of surprise that haunted the whole place, that the -proceeding seemed quite rational, and I ate my bread and milk -contentedly and in large quantities. - -[Illustration: I ate my bread and milk contentedly and in large -quantities.] - -There was no other guest, but I shall never forget the delight of that -supper. Never have I seen a more innate and beautiful hospitality; never -have I heard more delightfully witty conversation; never have I been so -fascinated by an experience. - -And so if Londoners choose to scribble a hasty note inviting one -carelessly to a reception at Stafford House, and if they see fit to make -a personal call far in advance to ask one to a bread-and-milk supper, -far be it from me to object. But I merely observe, in passing, that they -have no sense of proportion, at least in their ideas of the formality -demanded by social occasions. - - - - -[Illustration] _VIII._ _A Sentimental Journey_ - -I suppose every one experiences sudden moments of self-revelation that -come without rhyme or reason, like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky: -revelations that make clear in one illuminative flash conditions and -motives that have been tangled in a vague obscurity of doubt. - -It was when such an instantaneous radiance of mental vision came to me I -realized at once why I had come to England. It was simply and only that -I might visit Stratford-on-Avon. - -Nor was this pilgrimage to be lightly undertaken. Well I knew that the -position Shakespeare occupied in my lists of hero-worship demanded that -a fitting tribute of emotion be displayed at sight of such material -memorials as were preserved at his birthplace. - -Moreover, I knew that, whatever might be my sense of reverential homage, -in me the power of emotional demonstration did not abound. - -But it is ever my custom, when possible, to supply or amend such lacks -as I may note in my nature, by any available means. - -And what could be wiser than when going on such an important journey, -and where I knew my own powers would fall short of an imperative -requirement, to take with me some one who should adequately supplement -my shortcomings? - -Being of a methodical nature, I have my friends as definitely classified -and as neatly pigeon-holed as my old letters. Mentally running over my -collection of available companions, I stopped at Sentimental Tommy, -knowing I need look no further. - -Of course Sentimental Tommy was not his real name, but it is my custom -to bestow upon my friends such titles as seem to me appropriate or -descriptive. - -Sentimental Tommy, then, was the only man in the world, so far as I -knew, who would make a perfect associate for a day in Stratford. His -especial qualifications were a chameleonic power of adaptability, an -instant and sympathetic comprehension of mood, an unbounded capacity for -sentiment, and a genius for comradeship. He was also a man to whom one -could say “come, and he cometh,” without any fuss about it. - -The date being arranged, I turned to my Baedeker and was deeply -delighted to discover that we must take a train from Euston Station. For -it seemed that the wonderful columned façade of Euston was the only -appropriate exit from London, when one’s destination was Stratford. I -had hoped that our route might cause us to pass through Upper Tooting, -as, next to Stratford, this was to me the most interesting name in my -little red book. I know not why, but Upper Tooting has always possessed -for me a strange fascination and, though it sounds merely like the high -notes of a French horn, yet my intuition tells me that it is full of -deep and absorbing interest. - -Sentimental Tommy met me at Euston Station, and bought tickets for -Stratford as casually as if it had been on the Pennsylvania Railroad. -Tommy was in jubilant spirits that morning, with the peculiar kind of -international triumph which comes only to an American who has attained -some especial favour of the English. Gleefully he told me of his great -luck: Only that morning he had been kicked by the King’s cat! An early -stroll past Buckingham Palace and along Constitution Hill had resulted -in an interview with the royal feline, and the above-mentioned honorable -result had been achieved. My observation to the effect that I didn’t -know that cats kicked, was met by the simple statement that this cat -did,—and then we went on to Stratford. - -[Illustration: Kicked by the King’s cat.] - -The ride being in part through the same country that I had traversed -when coming to London, I felt quite at home in my surroundings; and we -chatted gayly of everything under the sun except the immortal hero of -our pilgrimage. - -That’s what I like about Tommy—he has such a wonderful intuitive sense -of conversational values. And though his obsession by Shakespeare is -precisely the same as my own, and though he is himself a _Bartlett’s -Concordance_ in men’s clothing, yet I knew, for a surety, that he would -quote no line from the poet through the entire day. - -As we had neither of us ever been in Stratford before, we left the train -at the station and paced the little town with an anticipation that was -like a blank page, to be written on by whatever might happen next. - -Trusting to Tommy’s instinct, we asked no questions of guidance, and -started off at random, on a nowise remarkable street. It was an affable -August day, and our gait was much like that of a snail at full gallop; -yet before we turned the first corner tears stood in my eyes,—though -whether caused by the thrill of being on Shakespeare’s ground, or the -reflection of Tommy’s discernibly suppressed emotion, I’ve no idea. - -But for pure delightfulness of sensation it is difficult to surpass that -aimless wandering through Stratford, with a subconsciousness of what was -awaiting us. - -In London, historical associations crop up at every step; but, though -pointing backward, each points in a different direction, and so they -form a great semicircular horizon which becomes misty and vague in the -distance. This is restful, and gives one a mere sense of blurred -perspective. But Stratford is definite and coherent. Everything in it, -material or otherwise, points sharply back to the one figure, and the -converging rays meet with a suddenness that is dazzling and well-nigh -stunning. - -Stratford is reeking with dramatic quality, and a sudden breath of its -atmosphere makes for mental unbalance. - -“Don’t take it so hard,” said Tommy, with his gentle smile; “this is -really the worst of it,—except perhaps one other bit,—and it will soon -be over.” - -“Why, we haven’t begun yet,” said I, in astonishment. - -“You’re thinking of the Birthplace, the Memorial, and the Church. You -ought to know that we can see, absorb, and assimilate those things in -just about one minute each. It is this that counts,—this, and the -footpath across the fields to Shottery.” - -“And the River,” I added. - -“Yes, and the River.” - -Following his unerring instincts, Tommy’s steps led us, though perhaps -not by the most direct route, to the Shakespeare Hotel. - -“You know,” he said, “intending visitors to Stratford are invariably -instructed by returned visitors to go to the Red Lion Inn, or Red Bear, -or Red something; but instinct tells me that this hostelry has a message -for us.” - -Nor was the message only that of the typical English luncheon which the -dining-room afforded. There were many other points about that hotel -which impressed me with peculiar delight, from the quaint entrance hall -to the garden at the back. - -Each room is named for one of Shakespeare’s plays, and has the title -over its door. After hesitating between _Hamlet_ and _Twelfth Night_, I -finally concluded that should I ever spend a whole summer in Stratford, -which I fully intend to do, I should take possession of the delightful, -chintz-furnished _Love’s Labour’s Lost_. - -The library was a continuation of fascination. A strange-shaped room -whose length is half a dozen times its width, it seemed a place to enter -but not to leave. - -However, one does not visit Stratford for the delights of hotel-life, -and, luncheon over, we again began our wanderings. - -By good luck we chanced first upon the Memorial Theatre. The good luck -lay in the fact that, having seen the outside of this Tribute to Genius, -we had no desire to enter. It was remindful of a modern New England high -school building, and, though we knew it contained authentic portraits -and first folios, it had little to do with our Shakespeare. - -We paused at the Monument, and commented on the cleverness of the happy -thought that provided _Philosophy_ to fill up the fourth side of -Shakespeare’s genius. - -And then we went on to Henley Street and the house where Shakespeare was -born. - -We entered the narrow door-way into the old house, which shows so -plainly the frantic endeavor at preservation, and we climbed the stairs -to the room where the poet was born. The air was smoky with memory and -through it loomed the rather smug bust, its weight supported by a -thin-legged, inadequate table. - -With Tommy I was not troubled by the objectionable thought of “first -impressions.” In the first moment we took in, with one swift glance, the -fireplace, the walls, the windows, and the few scant properties, and -after that our attitude was as of pilgrims returning to an oft-visited -shrine. - -In the room back of the Birthroom, the one that looks out over the -garden, sat the old custodian of the place. He was a large handsome man -with none of the doddering, mumbling effects of his profession. - -[Illustration: My thoughts all with Mary Arden.] - -He looked at me keenly, as I stood looking out of the back window, my -thoughts all with Mary Arden, and he said, in a low voice, “You love -him, too,” and I said, “Yes.” - -A little shaken by the Birthplace, but of no mind to admit it, we went -gayly through the Stratford streets, passing groups of Happy Villagers, -and so suddenly did we meet the Avon, that we almost fell into it. We -chanced upon two broad marble steps that seemed to be the terminal of a -macadamized path to the river. - -The Avon was using the lower of these two steps, so we sat on the upper -one and watched the children sailing boats upon the Memorial Stream. -This brought to my mind Mr. Mabie’s word picture of Shakespeare at four -years old, and for a time the baby Shakespeare took precedence over the -man poet. - -It is scarcely fair that the Avon should be so beautiful of itself, for -this, with its vicarious interests, makes it too blessed among rivers. - -[Illustration: At the chancel.] - -Then we went to Holy Trinity. The approach, plain as way to parish -church, seemed like a solemn ceremony, and, as Tommy afterward admitted, -“it got on his nerves.” - -Unbothered by verger or guide, oblivious to tourists, if any were there, -we walked straight to the chancel, looked at Shakespeare’s grave,—and -walked away. - -It was fortunate for me at this moment that I had taken Sentimental -Tommy with me; for, as his emotions are so much more available than -mine, so he has them under much better control. - -I had expected to look around the church a bit, but Tommy led me away, -through the old graveyard, to the low wall by the river. And there, -under the waving old trees, we sat until we could pick up our lost three -hundred years. - -Back through the town we went; and I must needs stop here and there at -the little shops, which, with their modern attempts at quaintness, -display relics and antiques, more or less genuine. - -[Illustration: The footpath across the fields.] - -Few of their wares appealed to me, so I contented myself with a tiny -celluloid bust of Shakespeare, which by chance presented the familiar -features with an expression of real power and intellect. It was strange -to find this poet face on a cheap trinket, and with deep thankfulness of -heart I possessed myself of my one souvenir of Stratford. - -It is directly opposed to all the instincts of Tommy’s nature to ask -instructions in matters which he feels that he ought to know -intuitively. - -And so, upon his simple announcement, “This is the footpath across the -fields to Shottery,—to Anne Hathaway’s Cottage,” we started. - -As Tommy had hinted, during our walk from the station, there would be -another bit of the real thing; and this was it. The walk across the -fields was crowded with impulses that came perilously near emotional -intensity. But from such appalling fate we were saved by our sense of -humor. One cannot give way to emotion if one is conscious of its -humorous aspect. And we agreed that as the path across the field had -been here ever since Shakespeare trod it, and as it would in all -probability remain for some time in the future, the mere coincidence -that we were traversing it at this particular moment was nothing to be -thrilled about. - -And yet,—it _was_ the path from Stratford to Shottery, and we _were_ -there! - -But it was a longer path than we had thought, and the practicality which -is one of the chief ingredients of Tommy’s sentiment moved him to look -at his watch and announce that we would have to turn back at once, if we -would catch the last train to London. - -Not entirely disheartened at leaving Anne Hathaway’s cottage -unvisited,—for we both well knew the value of the unattained,—we -turned, and wandered back to the station just in time for the late -afternoon train. - -And that was why we didn’t discover until some time afterward that we -had taken the wrong road across the fields; and that, as we imagined our -faces turned toward it, Anne Hathaway’s cottage was getting further and -further away to our left. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] _IX._ _All in a Garden Fair_ - -To be in London is to be in Society. Each invitation accepted brings two -more, with an ultimate result like that of the old-fashioned “chain -letter.” - -Having thoughtlessly begun a social career, I suddenly found my London -carpeted with crimson velvet. And by insidious processes, and by reason -of the advance of summer, the velvet carpet magically transformed itself -into country-house lawns, the only difference being that the green -velvet carpet was of a richer pile. - -I had determined to accept no country-house invitations. The somewhat -ample length and breadth of London itself was all the England I desired, -and this I absorbed as fast as I could; my only difficulty being that I -could not live nimbly enough. - -But, like the historic gentleman who “loved but was lured away,” I was -invited to a Saturday afternoon garden party in the country, and, under -pressure of argument by some cherished friends, I consented to go. - -The Garden Party, unlike Sheridan, was seventy miles away; but I learned -that it would be a typical English Garden Party of the three-volume -sort, and though it necessitated a week-end stay, and concomitant -luggage bothers, I stoically prepared to see it through. - -I was to meet my cherished friends, who were none other than the Wag O’ -The World and his Wife, at Victoria Station. - -This, of itself, was a worth-while experience, for meeting friends at a -London station is always exciting. To begin with, they are never there. -You rush madly about from one ridiculous, inadequate ticket wicket to -another,—from one absurd, inadequate waiting-room to another,—and then -you think that after all they must have said Charing Cross. - -Then you forget them, and become absorbed in watching the comic opera -crowd of week-enders, in their neat travelling-suits of beflounced -muslin, frilly lace scarfs, and stout boots. - -[Illustration: The comic opera crowd of week-enders.] - -Wandering about in the luggage-room, I suddenly chanced upon my friends -calmly sitting on their own boxes, and looking as if they had been -evicted for not paying their rent. - -And such a multiplicity of luggage as they had! I had contented myself -with one box of goodly proportions, but my cherished friends had no less -than twelve pieces of the varying patterns of enamelled blackness and -pig-skinned brownness which only England knows. - -[Illustration: Looking as if they had been evicted for not paying their -rent.] - -“Why sit ye here idle?” I demanded. - -“We await the psychical moment,” responded the Wag O’ The World; “you -see they won’t stick our luggage sooner than ten minutes before train -time, and they’re not allowed to stick it later than five minutes before -train time. The game is to catch a porter between those times.” - -The game seemed not only difficult, but impossible, for the porters were -not only elusive but for the most part invisible. Preoccupied-looking -men strolled about with a handful of labels and a paste-pot, but could -not be induced to decorate our luggage therewith. - -“The principle is all wrong!” I declared. “It is absurd for one to be -such a slave to one’s luggage. Somebody ought to invent a trunk with -legs and intelligence, that would run after us,—instead of our running -after it!” - -“Even that would not be necessary,” responded the Wag O’ The World, in -his mild way; “if somebody would only invent a porter with legs and -intelligence, it would fulfil all requirements.” - -Now this is the strange part. - -Though there were more than a thousand people waiting to have their -luggage stuck (_i. e._, labelled), and though there were but few of the -invisible porters, yet everybody was properly stuck, and started when -the train did! - -The next entertainment was the securing of an entire compartment for our -party of three. This is always accomplished in England, but by many -devious and often original devices. - -“I’ve thought of a good plan, which I’ve never tried yet,” observed the -Wag O’ The World, “to get a compartment to one’s self. That is, to -invent some collapsible rubber people,—like balloon pigs, you -know,—that may be carried in the pocket, and blown up when necessary. -Three or four of these, when blown up and placed in the various seats -would fool any guard. And if one were shaped like a baby, with a crying -arrangement that would work mechanically, the others would not be -needed.” - -This plan was ingenious, but, like everything else in England, -unnecessary. It is one of the most striking characteristics of the -English that nothing is absolutely necessary to their well-being or -happiness. If anything is omitted or mislaid, it is not missed but -promptly forgotten, and no harm done. - -After an hour or two of pleasant travel through the hop-poled scenery of -Southeastern England, we reached a place with one of those absurd names -which always suggest Edward Lear’s immortal lyrics, where we must needs -change cars. - -My Cherished Friends strolled along the length of the platform to the -luggage van, and judiciously selected such boxes as they cared to claim; -though I am sure they did not get all of their own, and acquired a few -belonging to other passengers. I easily picked out my own American -trunk, and, surrounded by our spoil, we stood on the platform while the -train wandered on. - -After a long, but by no means tedious, wait there appeared on the other -side of the platform a toy railroad train, so amateurish that it looked -like one drawn by a child on a slate. - -We were put into a box-stall, and locked in. The ridiculous little -contraption bobbled along its track, and finally stopped in the middle -of a beautiful landscape, and we jumped out to become part of it. - -The barouche of our hostess awaited us, with still life in the shape of -liveried attendants. A huge wagon awaited the luggage, which had -mysteriously dumped itself out of the train, and we were whisked away to -the Garden Party. - -Partly to be polite, and partly because I couldn’t help it, I remarked -on the marvellous beauty of the country. - -The Wag O’ The World enthusiastically agreed with me. “But, Emily,” he -said, “if you could only see this same country in the spring! These -lanes are walled on either side with the pink bloom of the may,—and the -wild flowers . . .” - -Tears stood in the blue eyes of the Wag, at the mere thought of spring -in Kent, and I realized at last why English poets have sometimes written -poems about Spring. - -We passed through the village, one of those tiny hamlets which acquire -merit only by age and local tradition. The Happy Villagers stared at us -with just the correct degree of bucolic curiosity, and we rolled on -through the lodge gates, and along the winding, beautiful avenue to the -house. In every direction stretched wide lawns of perfect grass, that -probably acquired its uppish look when William the Conqueror trod it. - -We were met by no humanity of our own stamp, but were shown to our room -by benevolent-minded factotums, and gently advised to prepare for the -Garden Party. - -With the exception of entertainments of a public nature, I have never -seen so beautiful and elaborate an affair. The guests, to the number of -two hundred, came from all the country round; some in equipages dripping -with ancestral glory, and some in motor-cars reeking with modern wealth. - -The women’s costumes were of themselves a study. The English woman’s -dress often inclines to the _bizarre_; and at a garden fête she lets -herself loose in radiant absurdities, which she wears with the absolute -self-satisfaction born of the knowledge that in the matter of feminine -adornment England is the land of the free and home of the brave. - -The Garden Party proceeded with the regularity of clock-work. The -invitations read from four till six, and promptly at four the whole two -hundred guests arrived. This occasioned no confusion, and the hostess -greeted them with a neatness and despatch equalling that of our own -Presidential receptions. - -The guests then conversed in amiable groups on the lawn, while a band of -musicians in scarlet and gold uniforms played popular airs. - -All were then marshalled into a huge marquee, of dimensions exceeding -our largest circus tent. Here, a Lucullian feast was served at small -tables, and the country gentry, in their vague, involuntary way, amply -satisfied their healthy English appetites. - -After the feast, the assemblage was rounded up into a compact audience, -to witness the performance of a troupe of Pierrots. The antics of these -Mountebanks, with accompanying songs and dances, were appreciatively -applauded, and then, as it was six o’clock, the assemblage dissolved and -vanished, almost with the rapidity of a bursting bubble. - -To my easily flustered American mentality, it all seemed like a feat of -magic; and I looked in amazement at my hostess who, after the departure -of the last guest, was as composed and serene as if she had entertained -but a single guest. And like the insubstantial pageant faded, it left -not a rack behind. More magic dissolved the tent, the band-stand, the -Pierrots’ platform, and all other incriminating evidence, and then, with -true English forgetfulness, the Garden Party was a thing of the past, -and dinner was toward. - -The house-party numbered forty, and, after exchanging the filmy finery -of the garden garb for the more gorgeous regalia demanded by -candle-light, the guests repaired to the stately dining-hall. Of course, -_repaired_ is the only verb of locomotion befitting the occasion. - -Sunday passed like a beautiful daydream. The English have a great -respect for the Sabbath day, and, perhaps as a reward for this, the -weather on Sunday is usually perfect. It is not incumbent on guests to -go to church, but it is considered rather nice of them to do so; -especially if, as happened in this instance, the old church is on the -estate where one is visiting. Nor is it any hardship to sit in an old -carved high-backed pew, that has belonged to the family for ages. - -Sabbath amusements are of a mild nature, one of the favorites being -photography. English people have original ideas of posing, and any one -who can invent a new mode of grouping his subjects is looked upon as a -hero. - -Aside from Lord Nelson’s declaration, if there is one thing that England -expects, it is Tea; and tea she gets every day. But of all the various -modes of conducting the function, the out-of-door Tea at a country house -is probably the most delightful. - -The appointments are the perfection of wicker, china, and silver, but it -is the local color and surrounding that count most. - -[Illustration: English people have original ideas of posing.] - -I cease to wonder that the English are only vaguely interested in their -viands, for who could definitely consider the flavor of tea when in full -view was a rising terrace leading to a magnificent old mansion of the -correct and approved period of architecture, and covered with ivy that -may have been planted by an Historical Character? or, looking in another -direction, one could perceive a formal garden, with fountain and -sun-dial; another turn of the head brought into view a unique rose -orchard, unmatched even in England; while toward the only point of the -compass left, rolled hills and dales that made many an English landscape -painter famous. - -Add to this the inconsequent and always delightful small-talk of English -society, spiced here and there by their dreadful expletive, “My word!” -and enlivened by the English humor, which is, to those who care for it, -the most truly humorous thing on earth,—and I, for one, am quite ready -to concede that these conditions combine to make Afternoon Tea a Spangle -of Existence. - - - - -[Illustration] _X._ “_I Went and Ranged About to Many Churches._” - -Miss Anna was certainly a godsend. It was due to her comprehension of -the “human warious,” and her experienced knowledge of London, that I was -enabled to revisit places I had never seen before. - -When she calmly asked me to spend a day sightseeing in the “City,” I -gasped. But when she reminded me that I ought to look once more on some -of the old landmarks of London, I was flattered into a gracious -acceptance. - -One soft, purry August morning we started out. I was supposed to be -absolutely under her direction, but when she remarked casually that we -would take a ’bus, I rebelled. - -“I have never been in or on the horrid things,” I protested, “and I -never intend to!” - -But she only said, “We’ll stand on the corner of Oxford Street, and wait -for a City Atlas,” and somehow I immediately felt quite accustomed to -City Atlases,—and intuitively knew it would be a blue one,—but it -wasn’t. - -Imitating Miss Anna’s air of habitual custom, I swung myself aboard of -the moving monster, and laboriously climbed the curving companion-way at -the back. - -[Illustration: When she remarked casually that we would take a ’bus, I -rebelled.] - -Once in our seats, it was not so bad; though very like riding the -whirlwind, without being allowed to direct the storm. - -Miss Anna drew my attention to points of interest as we passed them. In -her tactful way she humored my idiosyncrasy. She never said, “On your -right is the ‘Salutation and Cat,’ where Coleridge and Southey and Lamb -used to congregate of a winter evening.” She said, instead, “Haven’t you -always thought ‘Salutation and Cat’ the very dearest tavern in all -London?” - -Nor when we came to the half-timbered houses of Holborn did she say, -“Here lived Lamb’s godfather, who was known to and visited by Sheridan.” - -She said: “Don’t you like Hawthorne’s way of putting these things? You -remember how he tells us that on his first visit to London he went -astray in Holborn, through an arched entrance, in a court opening -inward, with a great many Sunflowers in full bloom.” - -All this pleased me, as did also Bumpus’s great book-shop, which is, I -think, in this neighborhood. - -Another delightful pastime was observing the signs over the shop doors. -As the English are adept in the making of phrases, so are they -especially happy in adjusting their callings to their names. - -Lest I be considered frivolous, I shall mention only two; but surely -there could not be more appropriate names for dentists than two whose -sign-boards proudly announced Shipley Slipper, and, across the street -from him, Mr. Strong-i’th’arm. - -We went on, absorbed in our view of kaleidoscopic London, until Miss -Anna decreed that we go down to the ground again. There was no elevator -as in the Flatiron Building, so we tumbled down the back stairs, and -were thrown off. - -The sequence of the places we visited I do not remember, but they seemed -to be mostly churches and taverns. - -St. Paul’s was taken casually, as indeed it should be, being, like a -corporation, without a soul. - -Exteriorly, and from a goodly distance, St. Paul’s is perfection. From -the river, or from Parliament Hill, it is sympathetic and responsive. -But inside it is a mere vastness of mosaic and gilding, peopled with -shiny marbles of heroic size. There is an impressive grandeur of art, -but no message for the spirit. It is magnificent, but it is not church. - -Miss Anna and I walked properly about the edifice, fortunately agreeing -in our attitude toward it. - -From here, I think, she led me across something, and through something -and around something else, and then we were in St. Bartholomew’s church. -Being the oldest church in London, St. Bartholomew’s is historically -important, but it is interesting and delightful as well. The very air -inside has been shut in there ever since the twelfth century, yet one -breathes it normally, and enjoys the sudden backward transition. Had I -the time, I could easily find an inclination to walk every day round its -ancient triforium. - -As we left the church, the Charter-house put itself in our way. Though -other British subjects were educated at this school, it remains sacred -to the memory of Thackeray. From here he wrote to his mother, “There are -but three hundred and seventy boys in this school, and I wish there were -only three hundred and sixty-nine.” But visitors to the Charter-house -are glad that the three hundred and seventieth boy remained there, and -stamped the whole place with his gentle memory. The atmosphere of the -Charter-house is wonderfully calm; it does not connote _boys_, but seems -tranquilly imbued with the later wisdom of the great men who spent their -youthful days within its walls. - -The stranger in London has a decided advantage over the resident, in -that he can choose his heroes. - -A friend of mine who lives in Chelsea proudly assured me that he could -throw a stone from his garden into Carlyle’s! The point of his remark -seemed to be not his superior marksmanship, but the proximity to the -garden of a great man. Now, were I of the stone-throwing sex, there is -many a dead hero at whose garden I should aim before I turned toward -Carlyle’s. But of course this was because my friend lived in Chelsea. -Therefore the non-resident, not being confined to a locality, can throw -imaginary stones into any one’s garden. - -A desultory discussion of this subject caused Miss Anna to propose that -our next stone be aimed at the garden of Dr. Samuel Johnson. - -So to the Cheshire Cheese we went. - -The imposing personality of Dr. Johnson, and the antiquity of the famous -tavern, led me to anticipate great things; and I was sorely disappointed -(as probably most visitors are) at the plainly spread table, the -fearfully hard seats, and the trying umbrella-rack filled with sawdust. - -Of course we occupied the historic corner, where, according to the brass -tablet, Dr. Johnson loved to linger; but two young American women whose -tastes are not of the sanded floor and mulled ale variety cannot at a -midday meal, whoop up much of the atmosphere that probably surrounded -the smoke-wreathed midnights of Johnsonian revelry. - -[Illustration: Of course we occupied the Historic Corner.] - -Not that we didn’t enjoy it, for we were of a mind to enjoy everything -that day; but the appreciation was entirely objective. Methodically we -climbed the stairs and viewed all the rooms of the old, old house, and -on the top floor were duly shown by the guide the old arm-chair in which -Dr. Johnson used to sit. A stout twine was tied across from arm to arm, -that pilgrims might not further wear out the old cushion. When I, as an -enormous jest, asked the guide to cut the string, that I might sit in -the historic chair, he cheerfully did so, and I considered the fee well -spent that allowed me to linger for a moment on the very dusty cushions -of Dr. Johnson’s own chair. - -[Illustration: When I . . . asked the guide to cut the string . . . he -cheerfully did so.] - -I afterward learned that the string business was a fraud, and was -renewed and cut again for each curious visitor. I accept with equanimity -this clever ruse, but I’m still wondering how they renew the dust. - -While we were doing Early Restaurants Miss Anna said, “We must take in -Crosby Place.” - -This pleased me hugely, for I remembered how Gloucester, in _Richard the -Third_ was everlastingly repairing to Crosby Place, and I desired to -know what was the attraction. - -I found it interesting, but, lacking Gloucester, I shall not repair -there often. To be sure, it is a magnificent house, Gothic, -Perpendicular, and all that; the hangings and appointments are, -probably, much as they used to be, but after all, I do not care greatly -for eating among Emotions. - -Whereupon Miss Anna cheerfully proposed that we visit the Tower. - -“No,” said I, with decision; and then, my mind still on _Richard the -Third_, I quoted: “I do not like the Tower, of any place.” - -I’m not sure I should have been able so bravely to disclaim an interest -in the Tower, had it not been that the night before I had heard a wise -and prominent Londoner state the fact that he had never visited it. - -“No Londoner has ever been to the Tower,” he declared. “We used to say -that we intended to go some time or other, but now we don’t even say -that.” - -I was greatly relieved to learn this, for I’m positive that the Tower is -hideous and uninteresting. As an alternative, I asked that we might -visit the railway stations. - -Aside from the romance that is indigenous to all railway stations, there -are peculiar characteristics of the great London termini that are of -absorbing interest. And so strong are the claims each puts forth for -pre-eminence, it is indeed difficult to award a palm. - -Euston has its columns, Charing Cross its Tribute to Queen Eleanor, St. -Pancras a spacious roominess, and Victoria a wofully-crowded and limited -space. Each station has its own sort of people, and, though indubitably -they must mingle upon occasion, yet the type of crowd at each station is -invariably the same. - -[Illustration: A mysterious influence which emanates from those -wonderful columns.] - -And yet, after all, my heart goes back with fondest memories to Euston. -Not the crowd, not even the atmosphere, but a mysterious influence which -emanates from those wonderful columns. Not only the sight of them as you -approach from London, but the queer, almost uncanny way in which they -permeate the whole place. They follow you through the station and into -the train, and not for many miles can you get out from under the -presence of those perfect shapes. - -Coming into London, Cannon Street is a good station to choose, if your -route permit, but going out, Euston or Charing Cross should, if -possible, be selected. - -Before, after, or during, our station visits, we touched on a few more -churches. - -The Temple Church proved a delight because of the bronze Knights -peacefully resting there. Miss Anna told me they were called Crusaders -because they chose to lie with their legs crossed. This was probably -true, for the position was maintained by all of them. Oliver Goldsmith -is buried here, but I had no particular desire to throw a stone into his -graveyard, and so we went on. Owing to a change of mood, we no longer -rode on the ’buses, but took a hansom from one place to another. This -was not as extravagant as it might seem, for, notwithstanding assertions -to the contrary, one cannot ride enough in London cabs to make the bill -of any considerable amount, at least as compared to a New York cab bill. -And Shakespeare averred that “nothing is small or great but by -comparison.” - -As our cab bumpily threaded its way along the crammed Strand, the -bright-colored mass of humanity and traffic seemed to me the pre-eminent -London. I wanted no more sight-seeing, I wanted no more historical -association, I merely wanted to continue this opportunity for feasting -on real City London. I voraciously bit off large chunks of the -atmosphere as we passed through it, which I am even yet digesting and -assimilating. - -As a complement to this view of London, we suddenly decided to call on a -friend for a cup of tea. A personal, at-home tea would be a pleasant -contrast to the publicity of our day. - -Deciding upon the coziest and homeliest tea-dispenser, we drove to Mrs. -Todd’s in Kensington. - -It is a great satisfaction to know that the unpromising portal of a -London house will positively lead eventually to a delightful back -garden, and tea. - -We were welcomed by our charming hostess in her pretty trailing -summeriness, and were immediately transformed from whimsical sight-seers -into sociable tea-drinkers. - -Though it was by no means a special occasion, the garden was bright with -flowers and people, and the tea and cakes were served under the -inevitable marquee. It was Mrs. Todd’s weekly day at home, and the -guests were all amiable and charming. A young woman with a phenomenal -voice sang to us from the back parlor windows, and thereby gave a -stimulus to the conversation. All was usual and orthodox. Everybody -listened politely to everybody’s else chatter, and, apparently -unhearing, answered at random, and quite often wrongly. - -It seemed to me that even in this land of bright flowers the blossoming -plants were of unusually brilliant hues. As I took my departure I -commented on this, and my hostess responded with a superb indifference: -“Really? yes, they are rather good ones. The nursery man fetched them -early this afternoon, and after you are all gone, he will come and carry -them away”; and, if you please, those ridiculous plants were in pots, -sunk into the earth, and giving all the effect of a beautiful growing -garden! - -[Illustration: Really? yes, they are rather good ones.] - -This fable teaches that our English sisters are not above the small -bluffs more often ascribed to American femininity. - - - - -[Illustration] _XI._ _Piccadilly Circus and its Environs_ - -A favorite game of mine in London was to walk until I became tired or -lost or both, and then take a cab back home. - -Oftenest, the bright beckoning of Piccadilly allured me, and I strolled -along that Primrose Path from Park Lane to Piccadilly Circus, my mind -laid open like a fresh blotting-book, to receive whatever impress London -might carelessly leave upon it. - -Such delightful people as I would see! - -Ladies, tricked out in pink filminess of raiment, ever striving to -clutch one more handful of their _frou-frou_, as it waggishly eluded -their grasp, and dawdled along the pavement behind them. - -Yet, strange to say, the flapping frilliness rarely becomes muddily -bedraggled, as it would on a New York street; it merely achieves that -palpable grayness which marks everything in London, from its palaces to -its laundry work. - -The headgear of these same ladies can be called nothing less than -alarming. - -[Illustration: The headgear of these same ladies can be called nothing -less than alarming.] - -During the summer of which I write, it was the whim to wear huge shapes -of the mushroom or butter-bowl variety. These shapes, instead of being -decorated with flowers or feathers, bore skilfully contrived fruits, -that looked so like real ones I was often tempted to pluck them. -Cherries and grapes were not so entirely novel, but peaches, pears, and -in one instance a banana, seemed, at least, mildly ludicrous. I was -rejoiced to learn that these fruits, being stuffed with cotton-wool, -were not so weighty as they appeared; but they were indeed bulky, and -crowded on to the hat in such quantities that it seemed more sensible to -turn the butter-bowl the other side up to hold them. - -Owen Seaman calls the English “the misunderstood people,” but how can -one understand those who put fly-nets on the tops of their cabs instead -of on their horses, and wear peaches on their heads? - -As difficult to understand as their own handwriting (and more than that -cannot be said!), after the solution is puzzled out the Londoners are -the most delightful people in the world. - -But you must accept the solution, and take them at their own valuation; -for they are unadaptable, and very sure of themselves. - -Now, Piccadilly is not like this. It is smiling, affable, charming, and -very yielding and adaptable. It will respond to any of your moods and -will give you an atmosphere of any sort you desire. On one side, as you -walk along, are houses, more or less lately ducal, but all of a greatly -worth-while air. Citified, indeed, with a wealthy width of stone -pavement, and a noble height of stone frontage. - -On the other side is Green Park, with its shining, softly-waving trees, -its birds, and its grass. - -But, passing the Hotel Ritz, both sides suddenly give way to shops and -restaurants which rank among the most pretentious in all the world. - -Many of the tradesmen are “purveyors to the King,” which magic phrase -adds a charm to the humblest sorts of wares. - -The book shops and the fruiterers’ shops are, to me, most enticing of -all. It is a delight to make inquiries concerning a book that is, -perhaps, not very well known, and, instead of the blank ignorance or the -substitutive impulse often found in American book-shop clerks, to -receive an intelligent opinion, quickly backed, if necessary, by -intelligent reference to tabulated facts. - -The unostentatious, yet almost invariably trustworthy, knowledge of -London booksellers is a thing to be sighed for in our own country. Not -even in Boston (outside of the Athenæum) is one sure of receiving -bookish information when desired. But in London the bookseller takes a -personal interest in your wants, and feels a personal pride in being -able to gratify them. - -And the heaps of second-hand books are mines of joy. - -Among them you may find, as I did, real treasures at the price of trash. - -I chanced upon an early edition of Byron’s poems—four little volumes, -bound in soft, shiny green, with exquisite hand-tooling, and containing -steel engraved book plates of old, scrolled design, which bore the name -of somebody Gordon, whom I chose to imagine a near and dear relative of -the late George Noel. - -[Illustration: Among them you may find . . . . real treasures at the -price of trash.] - -Also, I found a paper-covered copy of an Indian edition of Kipling’s -early tales, and many such pleasant wares. - -The fruit shops, too, have treasures both new and second-hand. This -seemed strange to me, at first, and I learned of it by hearing a -fellow-customer ask to hire a few pines. - -After her departure I inquired of the shopman the meaning of it all. - -He obligingly told me that many of his finest specimens of pineapples, -canteloupes, Hamburg grapes, and other spectacular fruits, could be -rented out for banquets night after night, with but slight wear and tear -on their beauty and bloom. One enormous bunch of black grapes, as -perfect as the colour studies of fruit that used to appear as -supplements to the _Art Amateur_, he caressed fondly, as he told me it -had been rented out for the last nine nights, and was yet good for -another week’s work. - -I then remembered the architectural triumphs of fruits that had graced -many of the dinner tables I had smiled at, and I marvelled afresh at the -English thrift. - -[Illustration: “He told me it had been rented out for the last nine -nights.”] - -All shops, streets, theatres, and traffic merge and congest in a perfect -orgy of noise, motion, and color at Piccadilly Circus. - -The first humorous story I heard in London was of the man who, returning -from a festal function, inquired of the policeman, “_Is_ this Piccadilly -Circus, or is it Tuesday?” That story seems to me the epitome of London -humor, and also a complete description of Piccadilly Circus. - -The first few times I visited it I found it bewildering, but after I had -learned to look upon it as a local habitation and a name, I learned to -love it. - -By day or by night, it is a great, crazy, beautiful whirl. Everybody in -it is trying to get out of it, and everybody out is trying to get in. -This causes a merry game of odds, and the elegant policemen send glances -of mild reproof after the newsboys who hurtle through the crowd, yelling -“Dily Mile!” - -The rush of traffic here is considered a sure road to battle, murder, or -sudden death, and the Londoner who crosses Piccadilly Circus rarely -expects to get through alive. - -But to me London traffic seems child’s play compared to ours in New -York. I sauntered safely through Piccadilly Circus, without one tenth -part of the trepidation that always seizes me when I try to scurry -across Broadway. The lumbering ’buses have no such desire to run over -people, as that which burns in the hearts of our trolley-cars. The -pedestrians are too deliberate of speed, and the traffic too gentle of -motion, to inspire fear of jostlement. - -Dawdling along, I paused to look in at Swan and Edgar’s windows. Rather, -I attempted to look in; for, with a peculiar sort of short-sightedness, -these drapers choose to be-plaster their window panes with large posters -which comment favorably upon the wares that are presumably behind them, -but which cannot be seen by peeping through the small spaces left -between the posters. - -Then across to the Criterion for tea. All of the great restaurants -present a gay scene at tea hour, and the Criterion, with its “decorative -painting by eminent artists,” and its crowds of guests both eminent and -decorative is among the gayest. - -But it is a gayety of correct and subdued tone. The ladies, in their -flashing finery of raiment, are of a cool, reserved deportment, and the -men drink their tea and munch sweet cakes with a gravity born of the -seriousness of the occasion. - -If one notices any conspicuous action or effect in a London restaurant, -one may be sure it is perpetrated by a stranger,—probably a visiting -American. - -I recently saw in one of our finest Fifth Avenue restaurants a most -attractive young woman, who came in accompanied by a well-set-up, and -moreover an exceedingly sensible looking, young man. - -With absolute _savoir faire_, and no trace of self-consciousness, the -girl carried in her arm a large brown “Teddy bear.” - -[Illustration: The couple sat at a table and ordered some luncheon.] - -The couple sat at a table and ordered some luncheon, and the bear was -also given a seat, a napkin was tucked about his neck, and a plate -placed before him. The girl’s face was sweet and refined; the man’s face -was intelligent and dignified, and the bear’s face was coy and alluring. -There was no attempt to attract attention, and, luncheon over, the young -woman, who was at least twenty years old, tucked her pet under her arm, -and they walked calmly out. - -But such things are not done in London restaurants. And yet, these also -have their peculiarities. At one small, but very desirable, restaurant -in Old Compton Street it is the custom to steal the saltspoons as -souvenirs. Not to possess one or more of these tiny pewter affairs, -which are shaped like coal-shovels, is to be benighted indeed. So I -stole one. - -After my tea, I would, perhaps, trail along toward Trafalgar Square, by -way of Regent Street and Pall Mall. After a long look at the black and -white grayness of the National Gallery, I would slowly mount its steps, -and from there take a long look at the wonderful façade of St. -Martin’s-in-the-Field. Trafalgar Square is full of out-of-door delights, -but if the mood served I would go into the National Gallery, and walk -delicately, like Agag, among the pictures. I went always alone, for I -did not care to look at certain pictures which I owned (by right of -adoption of them into my London), in danger of hearing a companion say, -“Note the delicate precision of the flesh tones,” or, “Observe the -gradations of aerial perspective.” Nor did I want a “Hand-book,” that -would assert, “Without a prolonged examination of this picture it is -impossible to form an idea of the art with which it has been executed.” - -Unhampered by mortal suggestion, I paused before the pictures that -belonged to me, prolonging my examination or not, as I chose, and for my -own reasons. - -Some pictures I should have loved, but for an ineradicable memory of -their narrowly black-framed reproductions that crowd the wall spaces of -friends at home, who “just love Art.” - -Other pictures I might have appropriated, but that a prolonged -examination of them was impossible by reason of the massing in front of -them of people who go out by the day sight-seeing. - -And so I took my own where I found it, and happily wandered by _A man -with Fair Hair_ or _Clouds at Twilight_ in a very bliss of art -ignorance. - -Then out-of-door London would call me again, and back I would go to -Trafalgar Square, one of the lightest, brightest-colored bits of all -England. From the asphalt to the welkin, from the Column to the Church, -from the National Gallery to Morley’s Hotel, are the most beautiful -blues, and greens, and whites, and reds, and grays that can be supplied -by the combined efforts of Nature, Time, and modern pigments. A sudden -impulse, perhaps, would make me think that I had immediate need of the -Elgin Marbles, and, with a farewell nod to the northeast lion (which is -my favorite of the four), I would jump into a hansom and jog over to the -British Museum. But often the approach was so clogged by pompous and -overbearing pigeons that I would make no attempt to enter. Instead, I -would find another hansom, and take a long ride over to the Tate -Gallery. - -[Illustration: The approach was so clogged by pompous and overbearing -pigeons.] - -As I bounced happily along, I would note many landmarks of historic -interest. Some of these were real, and others made up by myself on the -spur of the moment, to fit a passing thought. - -For, if I saw an old building of picturesque interest, I could make -myself more decently emotional toward the antiquity of it by assuring -myself that that was where Sterne died, or where Pepys “made mighty -merry.” - -And, after all, facts are of little importance compared with “those -things which really are—the eternal inner world of the imagination.” - -It was from the outlook of a hansom cab that I could get some of the -best views of my London. Every turn would bring new sorts of motion, -sound, and color. And, birdseyed thus, it was all so beautiful that I -wondered what Shelley meant by saying “Hell is a city very much like -London,”—if, indeed, he did say it. - -Once in the Tate Gallery, I would fall afresh under the spell of the -lonely wistfulness of G. F. Watts’ _Minotaur_. - -Then I would go to gaze long on Whistler’s wonderful notion of Battersea -Bridge on a blue night, and then betake myself to the Turner collection. - -Here I could spend hours, floundering in unintelligent delight among the -pictures, sensitive to each apotheosis of color and beauty, and not -caring whether its title might be _Waves Breaking on a Flat Beach_, or -_River Scene with Cattle_. - -But too much Turner was apt to go to my head, and just in time I would -tear myself away, hop into a hansom, and make for the Wallace Collection -to be brought back to a sense of human reality by a short interview with -the _Laughing Cavalier_. - -What a city it is, where cabs and picture-galleries are within the reach -of all who desire them! - - - - -[Illustration] _XII_ _The Game of Going On._ - -The appetite for the social life of London grows with what it feeds on. -Although at first indisposed to be lured into the Social Vortex, I found -it possessed a centripetal force which drew me steadily toward its -whizzing centre. - -Nor was it long before I became as avid as any Londoner to pursue the -bewildering course known as “going on.” - -There is a cumulative delight in whisking from Tea to Tea, and no two -teas are ever alike. - -It pleased me greatly to classify and note the difference in London -Teas. - -In New York all Teas are alike in quality—the only difference being in -quantity. But in London one Tea differeth from another, not only in -glory, but in size, shape, and color. - -Yet all are enjoyable to one who understands going on. If the Tea be of -the Glacial Period, there is no occasion to exert your entertaining -powers. Simply assume an expression of bored superiority, and move about -with a few murmured, incoherent, and not necessarily rational words. - -There is a very amusing story, which I used to think an impossible -exaggeration, but which I now believe to be true. - -Thus runs the tale: A guest at an afternoon tea, when spoken to by any -one, invariably replied, “I was found dead in my bed this morning.” As -the responses to this were always, “Really?” or “Charmed, I’m sure,” or -“Only fancy!” it is safe to assume that the remark was unheard or -unheeded. - -[Illustration: “I was found dead in my bed this morning.”] - -But this state of things is not certainly unpleasant, or to be -condemned. - -One does not go to a Tea to improve one’s mind, or to acquire valuable -information. The remarks that are made are quite as satisfactory unheard -as heard. We are not pining to be told the state of the weather; we -deduce our friend’s good health from the fact of his presence; and it is -therefore delightful to be left, unhampered, to pursue our own thoughts, -and, if so minded, to make to ourselves our own analytic observations on -the scene before us. - -Again, if the Tea be of the Responsive Variety, and you are supposed to -chat and be chatted to, then is joy indeed in store for you—for when -Londoners do talk, they talk wonderfully well. - -I went one afternoon to a Tea given for me by a well-known London -novelist. The host, beside being an Englishman of the most charming -type, and a clever writer, was of a genial, happy nature, which seemed -to imbue the whole affair with a cosy gayety. - -Though not a large Tea, many literary celebrities were present, and each -gave willingly of his best mentality to grace the occasion. - -Now, nothing is more truly delightful than the informal chatter of -good-natured, quick-witted literary people. Their true sense of values, -their quick sense of humor, their receptiveness, their responsiveness, -and their instantaneous perception, combine to bring forth conversation -like the words of which Beaumont wrote: - - So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, - As if that every one from whom they came - Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, - And had resolved to live a fool the rest - Of his dull life . . . Wit that might warrant be - For the whole city to talk foolishly - Till that were cancelled. - -Nor are Teas of this sort rare or exceptional. - -Given the entrée to London’s literary circles, occasions abound for -meeting with these companions who do converse and waste the time -together. - -To my great regret, this is not to be said of America. A Literary Tea in -New York means a lot of people, some, perhaps, bookishly inclined, -invited to meet a Celebrity of Letters. - -The Celebrity comes late, sometimes not at all, and he or she is often -enveloped in a sort of belligerent shyness which does not make for -coherent conversation of any sort. Moreover, Americans do not know how -to give a Tea. We are learning, but we conduct our Teas in an -amateurish, self-conscious way, and with a brave endurance born of our -national do-or-die principles. - -But to return to my going ons (which must by no means be confounded with -goings-on). - -From my Literary Tea, I went to a Musical Tea. This is distinctly a -London function, and the music, while of the best, acts as a soaking wet -Ostermoor laid on the feebly-burning vivacity of the occasion. The young -girl sings, the long-haired gentleman plays a violin, the lady in the -Greek gown plays the harp, and the guests arrive continuously, and -escape as soon as possible. - -But, like Kipling’s lovable tramp, I “liked it all,” and stood -tranquilly holding my teacup, while I studied the Tussaud effects all -about me. - -Then, as it was Fourth of July, I betook myself to the reception at -Dorchester House. - -This is a most admirable institution. I mean the reception, not the -house, though the statement really applies to both. - -But it is a fine thing to celebrate our Independence Day in London. -There is an incongruity about it that lends an added charm to what is in -itself a stupendously beautiful affair. - -Dorchester House, one of the finest residences in London, is now the -home of our own ambassador, and is thrown open for a great reception on -the afternoon of every Fourth of July. - -As my hansom took its place in the long line of waiting carriages I -glanced up at the noble old stone mansion, and was thrilled with a new -sort of patriotism when I saw our own Stars and Stripes wave grandly out -against the blue English sky. Our flag at home is a blessed, -matter-of-fact affair; but our flag proudly topping our Embassy in -another land is a thrilling proposition, and I suddenly realized the -aptness of the homely old phrase “so gallantly streaming.” - -Chiding myself for what I called purely emotional patriotism (but still -quivering with it), I entered the marble halls of Dorchester House. - -A compact, slowly-moving mass of people exactly fitted the broad and -truly magnificent marble staircase. - -Adjusting myself as part of this ambulatory throng, we moved on, -mechanically, a step at a time, toward the top. On each landing, as the -great staircase turned twice, were footmen in pink satin and silver -lace, who looked like valentines. They are very wonderful, those English -footmen, and sometimes I think I’d rather have one than a Teddy bear. - -[Illustration: We moved on, mechanically, a step at a time.] - -At the top of the staircase our ambassador and his reception party -greeted each guest with a cordial perfunctoriness, that exactly suited -the occasion, and then an invisible force, assisted here and there by a -very visible footman, gently urged us on. - -Although the thought seems inappropriate to the splendor of the -occasion, yet to me the marvel of the affair was the “neatness and -despatch” with which it was managed. No crowding, no herding, no audible -directions, yet the shifting thousands moved as one, and the route -through the mansion, and down another staircase, was followed leisurely, -by all. One might pause in any apartment to view the pictures or the -decorations, or to chat with chance-met friends. By the admirable magic -of the management, this made no difference in the manipulation of the -throng. Eventually one came into a great marquee, built on terraces, and -exquisitely draped inside with white and pale green. Here a sumptuous -feast was served with the iron hand of neatness and despatch hidden in -the velvet glove of suavity and elegant leisure. Here, again, one met -hundreds of acquaintances, and made hundreds of new ones, the orchestra -played national airs under two flags, and the scene was one of the -brightest phases of kaleidoscopic London. - -Then on, out into the great garden, full of delightful walks, seats, -flowers, music, and rainbow-garbed humanity. More meetings of friends -and strangers; more invitations for future going on; more introductions -to kindly celebrities; more pleasant exchange of international -compliment, and, above it all, the Stars and Stripes waving over -Dorchester House! - -From here I tore myself away to keep an engagement to Tea on the Terrace -of the House of Commons. - -This invitation had greatly pleased me, as it is esteemed a very -worth-while experience, and, further, I was very fond of the genial M. -P. and of his charming wife who had invited me. A bit belated, I reached -the Lobby, where I was to meet my host, several minutes after the -appointed time. - -Unappalled by this disaster, because of my ignorance of its magnitude, I -asked an official to conduct me to Mr. Member of Parliament. - -“Impossible,” he replied, “Mr. Member has already gone to the Terrace, -accompanied by his guests.” - -“Yes,” said I, still not understanding; “I am one of his guests. Please -show me the way to the Terrace.” - -He looked at me pityingly. - -“I’m sorry, madame; but it is impossible for you to join them now. No -one may go there unless accompanied by a Member, and the Member you -mention may not be sent for.” - -This seemed ludicrous, but so final was his manner, that I became -frightened lest I had really lost my entertainment. - -[Illustration: So final was his manner that I became frightened.] - -Whether my look of utter despair appealed to his better nature, or -whether he feared I was about to burst into tears, I don’t know,—but I -could see that he began to waver a little. - -I thought of bribery and corruption, and wondered if so austere an -individual ought to be approached along those lines. I remembered that -an Englishman had spoken to me thus: - -“I don’t know of anybody in London who would refuse a fee, except a club -servant or the King, and,” he added reflectively, “I’ve never tried the -King—personally.” - -Assisted by this knowledge, I somehow found myself being led down dark -and devious staircases which gave suddenly out upon the broad, light -Terrace. My guide then disappeared like an Arab, and I happily sauntered -along in search of Mr. and Mrs. M. P. - -The scene was unique. The long Terrace, looking out upon the Thames at -the very point of which Wordsworth wrote, - - Earth has not anything to show more fair, - -was filled with tea tables, at each of which sat a group of prominent -London tea-drinkers and their friends. The background, the Perpendicular -architecture of Parliament House, is crumbling in places, and I looked -quickly away, with a feeling of apology for having viewed it so closely -as to see its slight defects. - -My host greeted me with an air of unbounded amazement. - -“But how did you get down here?” he exclaimed. - -“American enterprise,” I responded, but I learned that it had been an -extraordinary and reprehensible act on the part of the official who had -guided me. - -[Illustration: My host greeted me with an air of unbounded amazement.] - -I was sorry to learn this, but glad that I had persevered to success. - -Twelve people were at table, and that Tea is among my fairest London -recollections. - -The very atmosphere of the Terrace is Parliamentarian, though, of -course, not in a literal sense, and vague, unmeaning visions of woolsack -and wig seem to mingle with the visible realities. On the one side the -Thames, trembling with traffic; on the other the silent altitude of -stone, that seems to grow hospitable and confidential as you sit longer -at its feet. And between these, the tea-table, with its merry group, -laughing at each other’s jests, and carelessly throwing about those -precious invitations which keep one going on. - -My right-hand neighbor proved to be a large-minded editor of delightful -personality. - -We talked of books, and he said quite casually: “Yes, I fancy Henry -James’s works. And, moreover, he’s a charming man, personally. Would you -care to go motoring down to Rye to-morrow, and spend the day at his -place?” - -While almost simultaneously on my other side a lady was saying, “Yes, -indeed, I’ll be glad to send you a card to the Annual Dinner of the -Women Authors of Great Britain.” - -Truly, hospitality is the keynote of the Leaders of London Society. An -apparent lack of warmth may sometimes be noticeable in their manner, but -they deal out delightful invitations with a free and willing hand, the -acceptance of which keeps one forever going on. - -And, after all, one is too prone to generalize. - -Hostesses are human beings, and, therefore, there are no two alike. - -One may classify,—and the types fall easily into classes,—but one may -not make sweeping assertions. And, too, in society, which the world over -is a sham and purveyor of shams, are kind hearts always more than -coronets? - -And when one is gayly, perhaps flippantly, going on, one wants to see -all sorts, and I went from my Terrace Tea to a private view of some -paintings. - -Then, after suitable robing, to a dinner; then to the opera, where the -delicious incongruity of _Madame Butterfly_ set to Italian grand opera -music, was heightened by the dear baby who sat flat on the stage and -waved the American flag into the very faces of the boxes full of English -royalty. - -And so, as Pepys would say, home, and to bed, feeling that there was -certainly a fascinating exhilaration in London’s game of Going On. - - - - -[Illustration] _XIII._ _A French Week-End_ - -In London I met an American friend, a busy New York man of letters. - -“I come to London every season,” said he, “for six week-ends. These are -spent at country-houses, and are planned for a long time ahead.” - -At first, I wondered what he did between the week-ends, but I soon -learned that what with getting to and from one country-place, and -arranging to go to and from another, the insignificant Wednesday or -Thursday in between is totally lost sight of. - -Distance to a week-end Mecca is counted as nothing; and so, when I was -invited to a house-party at a villa some twelve miles out of Paris, I -prepared to go as casually as if my destination were within the -Dominions of the Unsetting Sun. - -There seemed to be several routes from London to Paris, and each was -recommended to me as “the only possible way”; but I decided upon the -Dover-Calais route, and left Victoria station on the special train. - -A friend who came to “see me off” insisted on providing me with a put-up -luncheon, saying the only preventive of Channel bothers was to take a -bite before embarking. - -So persistent was he, that I accepted his offer to put an end to his -argument, and waited in my compartment while he ran for the “bite.” - -He returned, followed by a porter, who wheeled on a truck a “put-up -luncheon”! It was in a hamper, shaped like a large-sized wicker -suit-case. This stupendous affair was pushed under the seat, and before -I had time to remonstrate, my train started. - -Impelled alike by hunger and curiosity, I finally opened the gigantic -lunch-basket. Inside were carefully planned compartments containing -several courses of a delicious cold luncheon. Ample provision of -serviettes and oiled paper protected the viands from possible dust or -cinders, and the array of flat silver was bewildering. Plates and cups -fitted into their niches, and the whole collection was of a completeness -beyond compare. This is as yet an untried field for American enterprise, -but I suppose it will come. - -[Illustration: I finally opened this gigantic lunch basket.] - -The disposition of the emptied hamper was simply to restore it to its -place under the seat, and leave it there. Apparently it had the -instincts of a homing pigeon. - -Leaving Dover was like backing away from a picture post-card. I have -sometimes thought lithographed colors unnaturally bright, but the green -and white and blue of receding Dover on a sunshiny day make aniline dyes -seem dull by comparison. - -The crossing on the Channel steamer was delightful, and I now know the -dreadful tales I have heard of this experience to be mere peevish -malignity. I sat on the deck of the dancing boat, and when the spray -grew mischievous, kind-hearted attendants wrapped me in tarpaulin -mackintoshes, or whatever may be the French for their queer raincoats. - -I ruined my hat and feathers, but, in the exhilaration of that mad dash -through the tumbling, rioting sea, who could think of personal economy? - -All too soon we reached Calais, and here, again, a living, breathing -picture confronted me. Unlike Dover, the harbor at Calais is like an -exquisite aquarelle. The high lights and half-tones are marvellous, and -the composition is a masterpiece. But (and here I made my two rules that -should be invariably observed by the traveller from London to Paris) -there is not a more fearful wild-fowl living than your French customs -inspector. - -Troubles of all sorts cropped up, and the porters and officials talked -such strange French that they couldn’t understand mine! - -But the troubles were all because of my luggage, which they divided into -two classes. And hence my two rules: - -(1) When crossing the English Channel, on no account take with you any -luggage except hand-luggage. - -(2) On no account take any hand-luggage. - -These rules, carefully observed, will insure a happy, peaceful journey, -for the accommodations for personal comfort are admirable. - -The railroad train from Calais to Paris is a clean marvel of light gray -upholstery, and white antimacassars sized like a pillow-sham. The cars -are exceedingly comfortable and the whole ride a delight. - -I reached the _Gare du Nord_ about seven o’clock in the evening, and, -after a maddening experience with criminally imperturbable officials, I -took a cab to my hotel. - -Accustomed, all my life, to the few scattering cabs of New York City, I -had thought London possessed a great many cabs; but Paris contains as -many as London and New York put together. The French capital is paved -with cabs, and of such a cheapness of fare that I soon discovered it was -more economical to stay in them than to get out. - -I well knew I must fight against the insistence of “first impressions”; -but after all it _was_ Paris, and I had never been there before, and the -ride from the station to the _Place Vendôme_ might therefore be allowed -to thrill me a little. - -Some of the streets seemed rather horrid, but after we swung into the -Boulevard and came at last to the Vendôme Column, with a pale little -French moon just appearing above it, I was ready to admit that Paris -might go to my head, even as London went to my heart. - -My chosen hotel, The Ritz, was once the old palace of the Castiglione, -and still retains much of the palatial manner. - -Exquisite in the modernness of its appointments, it possesses an -atmosphere of historic France, and the combination comes perilously near -perfection. The urbane proprietor, who looked like the hero of a French -play, personally conducted me to my rooms and was solicitous for my -welfare in the best of English. From my windows I could see _al fresco_ -diners in a garden which looked like Marie Antoinette’s idea of Luna -Park. - -[Illustration: The urbane proprietor . . . personally conducted me to my -rooms.] - -Noble old trees rose as high as the house, and from their branches hung -great globes of vari-colored electric light. Statues guarded a fountain -at one end, flower-beds surrounded the place, and at many tables gay -humanity was toying with _chef d’œuvres_ of French cooking. - -The scene allured me. I hastily donned a dinner gown, and descended to -take my seat at an attractively-placed table. - -As I was alone, this might in New York have seemed indiscreet; in -London, at least undiscreet; but in Paris, being a guest of the house, -and under the protection of the august and benignant proprietor, it all -seemed the most natural proceeding in the world. - -The dinner was a dream; I mean, a sort of comic opera dream, where -lights and flowers and gayety made a chimerical effect of happiness. - -Of course, this pause over night at the hotel was part of my journey to -the week-end party. - -The next day my hostess would send for me, but these vicissitudes of -travel were not at all unpleasant. - -As I finished my dinner, and sauntered through the delicately ornate -salons, callers’ cards were brought me, and I was delighted to welcome -some English friends who were passing through Paris on a motor tour. - -“Come with us,” they said; “our car is at the door, and we will go out -and see ‘Paris by night’ in our own way.” - -Incongruous this, for Emily Emmins! - -But my adaptability claimed me for its own, and, with what I fancied a -French shrug of my shoulders, I mispronounced a French phrase of -acquiescence, and declared myself ready to go. - -[Illustration: With what I fancied a French shrug of my shoulders I -mispronounced a French phrase of acquiescence.] - -Three stalwart Englishmen, and the dignified wife of one of them, might -seem a strange party with which to visit Montmartre by night; but it was -an ideal way to go. In the motor-car we could whiz from one ridiculous -“Cabaret Unique” to another. We could look in at the absurd illusions of -“Le Ciel,” we could jeer at the flimsy foolishness of “L’Enfer,” and -make fun of its _attractions diaboliques_, yet all the time we were -seeing the heart of Parisian Folly, and a very gay, good-humored, -harmless little heart it is. Evil there might be, but none was -observable, and the foolish young French people sat around with much the -same air as that of young Americans at Coney Island. - -The “Cabaret du Neant” is supposed to be a fearsome place, where guests -sit around coffins and see ghosts. But so like substantial tables were -the coffins, and so sociable and human the ghosts, that awe gave place -to amusement. - -Home we whizzed, through the poorly lighted streets, which are indeed an -anachronism in Gay Paris By Night. - -Next day came the great touring-car of my week-end hostess, to take me -to her villa, at St. Germain-en-Laye. - -The villa being a fascinating old French mansion, self-furnished, the -house party being composed of most delightful people, the host and -hostess past grand masters in the art of entertaining, the visit was, as -might have been expected, merely a kaleidoscope of week-end delights. - -One absorbing entertainment followed another, but perhaps the picture -that remains most clearly in my memory is the dinner on the terrace. A -French country-house terrace is so much more frivolous than an English -one. The outlook, over a formal garden, of modified formality; the -splashing little fountains here and there; the decorated table on the -decorated terrace; the shaded candles, flowers, and foreign service; the -French moon, that has such a sophisticated paleness; the birds singing -French songs in what are doubtless ilex trees—all go to make a peculiar -charm that no other country may ever hope to attain. - -The days were devoted to motoring to Versailles, Fontainebleau, and -through Paris itself, and by this subtle method, one could sight-see -without realizing it. To motor over to Chantilly, for the sole purpose -of feeding the carp, is a different matter from seeing “sights which -should on no account be omitted”; and to go with one’s host for a day’s -run among the tiny French villages is a personally conducted tour with -the sting entirely extracted. - -The week-end over, I must needs pause a day or two in Paris, to rest -myself on my journey back to London. - -The shops offered wonderful attractions in the way of souvenirs to take -to the dear ones at home. For the value of a foreign-bought “souvenir” -lies in the fact of its non-existence in American shops, and such are -hard to find, indeed. For the novelty in London to-day is the “reduced -goods” in the New York department store to-morrow. - -Moreover, the shops contained feminine raiment of wonderful glory! Only -the fear of my “first impressions” of our American custom-house officers -prevented my realizing my wildest dreams of extravagance. - -Parisian clothes are marked by that quality which the London -sales-people call “dynety”—they having no more idea of the meaning than -of the pronounciation of the word. - -But the Parisian woman, from the richest to the poorest, is first of all -dainty; after that, correct, _chic_, modish—what you will. - -[Illustration: The Parisian woman . . . is first of all dainty.] - -And the French money is so easy to compute. My sovereign rule is to -multiply by two. If the price be in francs multiply by two, shift a -decimal point, and you have dollars. If centimes, multiply by two, -decimal point again, and you have cents. - -This simple rule made Paris shopping easy. - -I had determined, as this time Paris was a means and not an end, being -merely incidental to my week-end trip, I would not go into the -galleries, and perhaps become unduly attached to something I might find -there. - -A casual visit to the Louvre let me go through several rooms of pictures -and statues unmoved, when suddenly I met my Waterloo. - -All unexpectedly I came upon the _Venus of Milo_. It was a revelation. -The casts and photographs I had hitherto seen of it I now discovered to -be no more like the original statue than the moon is like the sun. - -The form, perhaps, is not so inadequately represented, but the face, as -shown in cast or picture, is a sadly futile attempt at imitation. - -The real _Venus_ has the most marvellous face in the world. There is an -ineffable beauty of feature, and an exquisite repose of expression, that -betokens no one affection, but the glorification of all that is great -and beautiful. - -But the fascination is unexplainable. I only know that into that -wonderful face I could gaze for hours; but never again do I want to see -a reproduction of it, of any sort. - -In the Louvre, too, I found the _Mona Lisa_. Here again I had been -misled by photographs and “art prints,” and was all unprepared for the -witchery of that baffling, bewildering smile. By a queer correlation of -ideas, my mind reverted to the _Laughing Cavalier_, and I wondered if -these two were smiling at the same thought. - -Undesirous of seeing more at this time, I returned to my open, -victoria-like cab. Those foolish Paris cabs! They seem so exactly like -the vehicle in which Bella Wilfer elegantly sat, when she begged her -parent, “Loll, ma, loll!” - -But they are fine to see out of, and a city like Paris, made for show, -should have cabs of wide outlook. - -Paris is an achievement. Its coherent, consequent civic beauty ranks it -among the seven beauties of the world. It is as systematically and -methodically laid out as Philadelphia—but with a difference! - -It is discreet and tactful, and ever puts its best foot foremost, the -other probably being down at heel. - -It is trim and tripping, where London is solidly lumbering,—but, give -me London! - -Paris is adorable; London is lovable. Paris is bewitching; London is -satisfying. - -Paris is to London as lime-light unto sunlight, and as absinthe unto -wine. But as the very essence of Paris, is ephemeral, so the nature of -London makes for perpetuity; and London is, of all things, a place to go -back to. - - * * * * * - - “_A collection of wholesome and_ - _delightful tales_” - - The Folk Afield - - _By_ - Eden Phillpotts - - Author of - “CHILDREN OF THE MIST,” “SONS OF THE MORNING,” etc., - - Crown, 8vo. $1.50 - - The variety that characterizes - these stories is one of both - scene and character, containing - stories of love and adventure on sea - and land. The backgrounds, laid in - with vividness and opulence of color, - have for the most part the sunny luxuriance - of the South of France, of Italy, - and of North Africa. The types of - character—heroes, heroines, and - supernumeraries are as varied as the - settings of the stories. Mr. Phillpotts’ - heroines are singularly attractive, - now by their beauty and their ardor, - now by their gentleness and purity. - - - G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS - New York London - - * * * * * - - _A New Book by the Author of “Lavender_ - _and Old Lace”_ - - LOVE AFFAIRS OF LITERARY MEN - - By MYRTLE REED - Author of “A Spinner in the Sun,” “The Master’s Violin,” etc. - - The love affairs of literary men seem to have an unfailing - hold upon the general sympathy, and a stronger hold, it might be - said, than the sentimental experiences of any other class of - people. In this book, Miss Reed has briefly retold the stories - of the lovers of the group of writers who are assured, all of - them, of immortal places in English literature. Here we may read - of the mysterious, double love affair of Swift with Stella and - Vanessa, of Pope’s almost grotesque attempts at the role of - lover, of Dr. Johnson’s ponderous affections, of Sterne’s - sentimental philanderings, and of Cowper’s relations with the - fair sex. We are told too of the loves of Keats and Shelley, a - story in the former case distressingly painful, in the latter a - tale in which the tragic and the joyous are woven in a mingled - web. Here, too, we meet Edgar Allan Poe as a lover; and we read - of Carlyle’s wooing, and peruse the unpleasant, but not - uninteresting, chronicle of his married life which resulted so - unhappily for Mrs. Carlyle. - - Crown 8vo, with 20 Portraits, printed in two colors. Cloth, - gilt top, net $1.75. Full red leather, net $2.50. Antique Calf, - net $3.00. Lavender Silk, net $4.00. - - _A complete descriptive circular of Miss Reed’s books sent on - application._ - - G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS - New York London - - * * * * * - - “_A Delightful and Dramatic Story_” - - Brown of Harvard - - By - Rida Johnson Young and Gilbert P. Coleman - - A delightful and dramatic story of modern college life based - upon the successful play of the same name. It will be found true - to both local color and spirit of the University where the scene - is laid. A lively and stirring plot, with ingenious and - surprising incidents and a striking denouement, seizes the - reader’s attention at the start and holds it to the end. - - _With 8 Full-page Illustrations from Photographs_ - _of the Play. Crown 8vo, $1.50_ - - - G. P. Putnam’s Sons - New York London - - * * * * * - - “_A superb social satire._” - Illustrated London News - - - The Country House - - By John Galsworthy - - Author of “The Man of Property,” etc. - - - _Crown, 8vo. $1.50._ - - “If there is any competition going on for the finest novel of - the year, best drawn characters in modern fiction, or the - coming novelist, my votes unhesitatingly go to _The Country - House_, to _Mr. Barter_, to _Mrs. Pendyce_ and to Mr. John - Galsworthy.” - - —_London Punch._ - - “A book that exhibits wide sympathies, genuine observation, and - a quiet humor of its own. Whatever Mr. Galsworthy writes - possesses an irresistible appeal for the readers of cultivated - tastes.” - - —_London Standard._ - - G. P. Putnam’s Sons - New York London - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Hyphenation and archaic spellings have been retained as in the original. -Punctuation and type-setting errors have been corrected without note. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Emily Emmins Papers, by Carolyn Wells - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMILY EMMINS PAPERS *** - -***** This file should be named 52662-0.txt or 52662-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/6/6/52662/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -images generously made available by The Internet -Archive/American Libraries (https://archive.org) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |