adventures and letters- 第20部分

Orient　Express。　　Somewhere　in　Bulgaria　on　the　way　to　London。

April　14th；　1893。　DEAR　MOTHER：

Tuesday　I　wrote　you　a　letter　in　the　club　at　Constantinople　telling　you　how　glad　I　would　be　to　get　out　of　that　City　on　April　17th　on　the　Orient　Express　which　only　leaves　twice　a　week　on　Thursdays　and　Mondays。　　So　any　one　who　travels　by　the　Orient　is　looked　upon　first　as　a　millionaire　and　second；　if　he　does　not　break　the　journey　at　Vienna；　as　a　greater　traveller　than　Col。　Burnaby　on　his　way　to　Khiva。　　Imagine　a　Kansas　City　man　breaking　the　journey　to　New　York。　　After　I　wrote　you　that　letter　I　went　in　the　next　room　and　read　of　the　Nile　Expedition　in　search　of　Gordonthis　went　through　three　volumes　of　The　Graphic　and　took　some　time；　so　that　when　I　had　reached　the　picture　which　announced　the　death　of　Gordon　it　was　half　past　five　and　I　had　nothing　more　to　do　for　four　days　It　was　raining　and　cold　and　muddy　and　so　I　just　made　up　my　mind　I　would　get　up　and　get　out　and　I　jumped　about　for　one　hour　like　a　kangaroo　and　by　seven　I　was　on　the　Orient　with　two　Cook　men　to　help　me　and　had　shaken　my　fist　at　the　last　minaret　light　of　that　awful　city。　　So；　now　it　is　all　over　and　it　is　done　I　have　learned　a　great　deal　in　an　imperfect　way　of　the　juxtaposition　of　certain　countries　and　of　the　ease　with　which　one　can　travel　without　speaking　any　known　languages　and　of　the　absolute　necessity　for　speaking　one；　French。　　I　am　still　disappointed　about　the　articles　but　selfishly　I　have　made　a　lot　out　of　the　trip。　　You　have　no　idea　how　hard　it　is　not　to　tell　about　strange　things　and　yet　you　know　people　do　not　care　half　as　much　for　them　as　things　they　know　all　about　No　matter；　it　is　done　and　with　the　exception　of　the　last　week　it　was　F　I　N　E。


〃I'm　going　back　to　London；　to　‘tea'　and　long　frock　coats　　　　　　I'm　done　with　Cook　and　seeing　sights　　　　　　I'm　done　with　table　d'hotes　　　　　　So　clear　the　track　you　signal　man　　　　　　From　Sofia　to　Pless；　I'm　going　straight　for　London　　　　　　On　the　Orient　Express。

I'm　going　straight　for　London　O'er　Bulgaria's　heavy　sands　To　Rotten　Row　and　muffins；　soles；　Chevalier　and　Brass　Bands　Ho'　get　away　you　bullock　man　You've　heard　the　whistle　blowed　a　locomotive　coming　down　the　Grand　Trunk　Road。〃


This　is　a　great　country　and　I　want　to　ask　all　the　natives　if　they　know　〃Stenie〃　Bonsal。　　They　are　all　his　friends　and　so　are　the　〃Balkans；〃　and　all　the　little　Balkans。　　Nobody　wears　European　clothes　here。　　They　are　all　as　foreign　and　native　and　picturesque　as　they　can　be；　the　women　with　big　silver　plates　over　their　stomachs　and　the　men　in　sheepskin　and　tights　and　the　soldiers　are　grand。　　We　have　been　passing　all　day　between　snow　covered　mountains　and　between　herds　of　cattle　and　red　roofed；　mud　villages　and　long　lakes　of　ice　and　snow　It　is　a　beautiful　day　and　I　am　very　happy。　（Second　day　out）　15th…We　are　now　in　Hungary　and　just　outside　of　Buda　Pesth　〃the　wickedest　city　in　the　world；〃　still　in　spite　of　that　fact　I　am　going　on。　　I　am　very　glad　I　came　this　way　The　peasants　and　soldiers　are　most　amusing　and　like　German　picture…papers　with　black　letter　type　I　shall　stop　a　day　in　Paris　now　that　I　have　four　extra　days。

DICK。


In　sight　of　ParisApril　161893。　DEAREST　MOTHER：

has　been　the　most　beautiful　day　since　February　4th。　　It　is　the　first　day　in　which　I　have　been　warm。　　All　through　I　have　had　a　varnish　of　warmth　every　now　and　again　but　no　real　actual　internal　warmthI　am　now　in　sight　of　Paris　and　it　is　the　16th　of　April；　in　the　eleven　weeks　which　have　elapsed　since　the　4th　of　February　I　have　been　in　Spain；　France；　Italy；　Germany；　Austria；　Hungary；　Serbia；　Bulgaria；　Turkey；　Greece；　Egypt　and　Morocco。　　I　have　sat　on　the　Rock　of　Gibraltar；　sailed　on　the　Nile　and　the　Suez　Canal　and　crossed　through　the　Dardanelles；　over　the　Balkans；　the　steppes　of　Hungary　and　the　Danube　and　Rhine。　　I　have　seen　the　sphinx　by　moonlight；　the　Parthenon　and　the　Eiffel　Tower　and　in　two　days　more　I　shall　have　seen　St。　Paul's。　　What　do　you　think　I　should　like　to　see　best　now？　　YOU。　　I　have　been　worrying　of　late　as　to　whether　or　not　I　should　not　come　home　now　and　leave　Paris　for　another　time　because　it　seems　so　rough　on　you　to　leave　you　without　either　of　your　younger　sons　for　so　long。　　But　I　have　thought　it　over　a　great　deal　and　I　think　it　better　that　I　should　do　Paris　now　and　leave　myself　clear　for　the　rest　of　the　year。　　I　promise　you　one　thing　however　that　I　shall　not　undertake　to　stay　away　so　long　again；　it　is　too　long　and　one　grows　out　of　things。　　But　nothing　I　feel；　will　be　so　easy　or　so　amusing　as　Paris　and　I　intend　to　get　through　with　it　soon　and　trot　home　to　you　by　the　middle　of　August　AT　THE　VERY　LATEST。　　So；　please　write　me　a　deceitful　letter　and　say　you　do　not　miss　me　at　all　and　that　my　being　so　near　as　Paris　makes　a　great　difference　and　that　I　am　better　out　of　the　way　and　if　Chas　goes　to　London　I　shall　be　near　him　in　case　he　forgets　to　put　on　his　overshoes　or　involves　us　in　a　war　with　G。　B。　　Now；　mother　dear；　do　write　me　a　cheerful　letter　and　say　that　you　do　not　mind　waiting　until　the　middle　of　August　for　me　and　when　I　come　back　this　time　I　shall　make　a　long　stay　with　you　at　Marion　and　tell　you　lots　of　things　I　have　not　written　you　and　I　shall　not　go　away　again　for　ever　so　long　and　if　I　do　go　I　shall　only　stay　a　little　while。　　You　have　no　idea　how　interesting　this　rush　across　the　continent　has　been。　　I　started　in　snow　and　through　marshes　covered　with　ice　and　long　horned　cattle　and　now　we　are　in　such　a　beautiful　clean　green　land　with　green　fields　and　green　trees　and　flowering　bushes　which　you　can　smell　as　the　train　goes　by。　　I　now　think　that　instead　of　being　a　cafe…chantant　singer　I　should　rather　be　an　Austrian　baron　and　own　a　castle　on　a　hill　with　a　red　roofed　village　around　it。　　I　have　spent　almost　all　of　the　trip　sitting　on　the　platform　and　enjoying　the　sight　of　the　queer　peasants　and　the　soldiers　and　old　villages。　　Tonight　I　shall　be　in　〃Paris；　France〃　as　Morton　used　to　say　and　I　shall　get　clean　and　put　on　my　dress　clothes　but　whether　I　shall　go　see　Yvette　Guilbert　or　Rusticana　again　I　do　not　know。　　Perhaps　I　shall　just　paddle　around　the　fountain　in　the　Place　de　la　Concorde　and　make　myself　thoroughly　at　home。　　With　a　great　deal　of　love　to　Dad　and　Nora　and　Chas　and　all。

DICK。


At　the　time　that　Richard's　first　travel　articles　appeared　some　of　his　critics　took　umbrage　at　the　fact　that　he　was　evidently　under　the　delusion　that　he　had　discovered　London；　Gibraltar；　Athens；　Paris；　and　the　other　cities　he　had　visited；　and　that　no　one　else　had　ever　written　about　them。　　As　a　matter　of　fact　no　one　could　have　been　more　keenly　conscious　of　what　an　oft…told　tale　were　the　places　that　he　had　chosen　to　describe。　　If　Richard　took　it　for　granted　that　the　reader　was　totally　unacquainted　with　the　peoples　of　these　cities　and　their　ways；　it　was　because　he　believed　that　that　was　the　best　way　to　write　a　descriptive　article；　always　had　believed　it；　and　believed　it　so　long　as　he　wrote。　　And　whatever　difference　of　opinion　may　have　existed　among　the　critics　and　the　public　as　to　Richard's　fiction；　I　think　it　is　safe　to　say　that　as　a　reporter　his　work　of　nearly　thirty　years　stood　at　least　as　high　as　that　of　any　of　his　contemporaries　or　perhaps　as　that　of　the　reporters　of　all　time。　　As　an　editor；　when　he　gave　out　an　assignment　to　a　reporter　to　write　an　article　on　some　well…worn　subject　and　the　reporter　protested；　Richard's　answer　was　the　same：　　〃You　must　always　remember　that　that　story　hasn't　been　written　until　YOU　write　it。〃　　And　when　he　suggested　to　an　editor　that　he　would　like　to　write　an　article　on　Broadway；　or　the　Panama　Canal；　or　the　ruins　of　Rome　and　the　editor　disapproved；　Richard's　argument　was：　　〃It　hasn't　been　done　until　_I_　do　it。〃　　And　it　was　not　because　he　believed　for　a　moment　that　he　could　do　it　better　or　as　well　as　it　had　been　done。　　It　was　simply　because　he　knew　the　old　story　was　always　a　good　story；　that　is；　if　it　was　seen　with　new　eyes　and　from　a　new　standpoint。　　At　twenty…eight　he　had　written　a　book　about　England　and　her　people；　and　the　book　had　met　with　much　success　both　in　America　and　England。　　At　twenty…nine；　equally　unafraid；　he　had　〃covered〃　the　ancient　cities　that　border　the　Mediterranean；　and　now　Paris　lay　before　him！　　This　thoughtindeed　few　thoughtstroubled　Richard　very　much　in　those　days　of　his　early　successes。　　He　had　youth；　friends；　a　marvellous　spirit　of　adventure；　and　besides　there　are　many　worse　fates　than　being　consigned　to　spending　a　few　months　in　Paris；　having　a　thoroughly　joyous　time；　taking　a　few　mental　notes；　and　a　little　later　on　transferring　them　to　paper　in　the　quiet　of　a　peaceful　summer　home　at　Marion。

Chief　among　his　friends　in　Paris　at　this　time　was　Charles　Dana　Gibson；　who　was　living　in　a　charming　old　house　in　the　Latin　Quarter；　and　where　the　artist　did　some　of　his　best　work　and　made　himself　extremely　popular　with　both　the　Parisians　and　the　American　colony。　　In　addition　to　Gibson　there　were　Kenneth　Frazier；　the　portrait…painter；　and　Tina；　Newton；　and　James　Eustis；　the　daughter　and　sons　of　James　B。　Eustis；　who　at　that　time　was　our　ambassador　to　France；　a　most　genial　and　kindly　host；　who　made　much　of　Richard　and　his　young　friends。


PARIS；　May　5；　1893。　DEAR　MOTHER：

It　is　a　narrow　street　with　apartment　houses　of　gray　stone　and　iron　balconies　along　either　side　of　it。　　The　sun　sets　at　one　end　of　the　street　at　different　times　during　the　day　and　we　all　lean　out　on　the　balconies　to　look。　　On　the　house；　one　below　mine；　on　the　other　side　of　our　street；　is　a　square　sign　that　says：

ALFRED　DE　MUSSET

EST　MORT　DANS　CETTE　MAISON


A　great　many　beautiful　ladies　with　the　fashionable　red　shade　of　hair　still　call　there；　as　they　used　to　do　when　the　proper　color　was　black　and　it　was　worn　in　a　chignon　and　the　Second　Empire　had　but　just　begun。　　While　they　wait　they　stretch　out　in　their　carriages　and　gaze　up　at　the　balconies　until　they　see　me；　and　as　I　wear　a　gold　and　pink　silk　wrapper　and　not　much　else；　they　concentrate　all　their　attention　on　the　wrapper　and　forget　to　drop　a　sigh　for　the　poet。　　There　are　two　young　people　on　the　sixth　floor　opposite；　who　come　out　on　the　balcony　after　dinner　and　hold　on　to　each　other　and　he　tells　her　all　about　the　work　of　the　day。　　Below　there　is　a　woman　who　sews　nothing　but　black　dresses；　and　who　does　that　all　day　and　a