PECK'S BAD BOY ABROAD

By Hon. Geo. W. Peck

Being a Humorous Description of the Bad Boy and His Dad in TheirJourneys Through Foreign Lands, Their Visits to Crowned Heads, theManners and Customs of the People, and the Bad Boy's Never EndingEfforts to Provide Fun No Matter Where He Is. 

Profusely Illustrated by D. S. Groesbeck And R. W. Taylor

THOMPSON & THOMAS - 1904

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. 

The Bad Boy and His Chum Call on the Old Groceryman After Being Away atSchool--The Bad Boy's Dad in a Bad Way

CHAPTER II. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Ready for Their Travels--The Bad Boy Labels theOld Man's Suit Case--How the Cowboys Made Him Dance Once

CHAPTER III. 

The Bad Boy Writes About the Fun They Had Going to Washington--Heand His Dad Call on President Roosevelt--The Bad Boy Meets One of theChildren and They Disagree

CHAPTER IV. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Visit Mount Vernon--Dad Weeps at the Grave ofthe Father of Our Country

CHAPTER V. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Have Dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria--The Bad BoyOrders Dinner--The Old Man Gets Stuck--Tries to Rescue a Countess inDistress

CHAPTER VI. 

The Bad Boy Writes the Old Groceryman About Ocean Voyages--His Dad Hasan Argument Over a Steamer Chair. 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Eat Fog--Call on Astor--A Dynamite Outrage

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Bad Boy Writes About the Craze for Gin in the White-chapelDistrict--He Gives His Dad a Scare in the Tower of London

CHAPTER IX. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Call on King Edward and Almost Settle the IrishQuestion

CHAPTER X. 

The Bad Boy Writes of Ancient and Modern Highwaymen--¦ They Get a Tasteof High Life in London and Dad Tells the Story of the Picklemaker'sDaughter

CHAPTER XI. 

The Bad Boy Writes About Paris--Tells About the Trip Across the EnglishChannel--Dad Feeds a Dog and Gets Arrested

CHAPTER XII. 

The Bad Boy's Second Letter from Paris--Dad Poses as a Mormon Bishopand Has to Be Rescued--They Climb the Eiffel Tower and the Old Man GetsConverted

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Bad Boy's Dad and a Man from Dakota Frame Up a Scheme to Break theBank, But They Go Broke--The Party in Trouble

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Have an Automobile Ride--They Run Over aPeasant--Climb "Glaziers"--Dad Falls Over a Precipice, But Is Rescued bythe Guides After a Hard Time of It

CHAPTER XV. 

Dad Plays He Is an Anarchist--They Give Alms to the Beggars and the BadBoy Ducks a Gondolier and His Dad in the Grand Canal

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Bad Boy Writes from Naples--Dad Sees Vesuvius and Calls the Servantsto Put Out the Fire--They Have Trouble with a "Dago" in Pompeii

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Climb Vesuvius--A Chicago Lady Joins the Partyand Causes Trouble

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Bad Boy Makes Friends with Some Italian Children--Dad is Chased byLions from the Coliseum--" Not Any More Rome for Papa, " says Dad

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Visit the Pope--They Bow to, the King of Italyand His Nine Spots--Dad Finds That "The Catacombs" Is Not a Comic Opera

CHAPTER XX. 

The Bad Boy Tells About the Land of the Czar and the Trouble They Had toGet There--Dad Does a Stunt and Mixes It Up with the People and Soldiers

CHAPTER XXI. 

Dad Sees a Russian Revolution and Faints--'The Bad Boy Arranges a WolfHunt--Dad Threatens to Throw the Boy to the Wolves

CHAPTER XXII. 

Dad Wears His Masonic Fez in Constantinople--They Find the TurksSensitive on the Dog Question--A College Yell for the Sultan Sends HimInto a Fit

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Meet the Cream of the Harem--"Little Egypt" Doesa Dancing Stunt--The Sultan Wants to Send Fifty Wives to the President

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Arrive in Cairo--At the Hotel They Meet SomeEgyptian Princesses--Dad Rides a Camel to the Pyramids and Meets withDifficulties

CHAPTER XXV. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad Climb the Pyramids--The Bad Boy Lights a CannonCracker in Rameses' Tomb--They Flee from Egypt in Disguise

CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Bad Boy Writes About Gibraltar--The Irish-English Army--How He WouldTake the Fortress--Dad Wants to Buy the "Rock"

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The Bad Boy Writes of Spain--They call On the King and the Bad Boy Is AtIt Once More--They See a Bull Fight and Dad Does a Turn

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Bad Boy and His Dad at Berlin--They Call On Emperor William and HisFamily and the Bad Boy Plays a Joke on Them All

CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Bad Boy Writes from Brussels--He and Dad See the Field of Waterlooand Call on King Leopold, and Dad and the King Go in for a Swim--The BadBoy, a Dog and Some Goats Do the Rest

CHAPTER XXX. 

The Bad Boy's Delayed Letter About Holland and Cuba--Dad and the Boy Gofor a Drive in a Dog-Cart--They Have a Great Time--Land in Cuba and Seethe Island We Fought For

PECK'S BAD BOY ABROAD. 

CHAPTER I. 

 The Bad Boy and His Chum Call on the Old Grocery-man After Being Away at School--The Bad Boy's Dad in a Bad Way. 

The bad boy had been away to school, but the illness of his father hadcalled him home, and for some weeks he had been looking about the oldtown. He had found few of his old friends. His father had recoveredsomewhat from his illness, and one day he met his old chum, a boy of hisown age. The bad boy and the chum got busy at once, talking over theold times that tried the souls of the neighbors and finally the bad boyasked about the old groceryman, and found that the old man still heldout at the old stand, with the same old stock of groceries, and theydecided to call upon him, and surprise him. So after it began to bedark they entered the store, and found the old groceryman sitting on acracker box by the stove, stroking the back of an old maltese cat thathad a yellow streak on the back, where it had been singed by crawlingunder the red-hot stove. As the boys entered the store the cat raisedits back, its tail became as large as a rolling pin, and the cat beganto spit, while the old groceryman held up both hands and said:

[Illustration: Don't shoot, Please 019]

"Don't shoot, please, but one of you go behind the counter and takewhat there is in the cash drawer, while the other one can reach into mypistol pocket and release my pocketbook. This is the fifth time I havebeen held up this year, and I have got so if I am not held up about sooften I can't sleep nights. "

"O, put down your hands and straighten out that cat's back, " said thebad boy, as he slapped the old groceryman on the back so hard his spinecracked like a frozen sidewalk. "Don't you know us, you old geezer? Weare the only and original Peck's Bad Boy and his Chum, come to life, andready for business, " and the two boys danced a jig on the floor, coveredan inch thick with the spilled sugar of years ago, the molasses that hadstrayed from barrel, and the general refuse of the dirty place, whichhad become as hard as asphalt. 

"O, dear, it is worse than I thought, " said the old groceryman as helaughed a hysterical laugh through the long whiskers, and he hugged theboys as though he had a liking for them, notwithstanding the sufferingthey had caused him. "By gosh, I thought you were nothing but commonrobbers, who just wanted my money. You are old friends, and can have thewhole place, " and he poured some milk into a basin for the cat, but theanimal only looked at the two boys as though she knew them, and watchedthem to see what was coming next. 

The bad boy looked around the old grocery, which had not changed aparticle during the time he had been away, the same old box of petrifiedprunes, the dried apples that could not be cut with a hatchet, thecanned stuff on the shelves had become so old that the labels had curledup and fallen off, so it must have been a guess with the old grocerymanwhether he was selling a can of peas or tomatoes, and the old fellowstanding there as though the world had gone off and left him, as hiscustomers had. 

"Well, wouldn't this skin you, " said the bad boy, as he took up adried prune and tried to crack it with a hatchet on a two-pound weight, turning to his chum who was stroking the singed hair of the old cat thewrong way. "Say, old man, you ought to get a hustle on you. Why don'tyou clean out this shebang, and put in a new stock, of goods, and haveclerks with white aprons on, and a girl bookkeeper, and goods thatpeople will buy and eat and not get sick? There is a grocery down streetthat is as clean as a whistle, and I notice all your old customers gothere. Why don't you keep up with the times?"

"O, I ain't running a dude place, " said the old man, as he took a pieceof soft coal and put it in the old round stove, and wiped the black offhis hands on his trousers. "I am trying to get rid of my customers. Ihave got money enough to live on, and I just stay here waiting for theold cat to die. I have only got six customers left, and one of them hasgot pneumonia, and is going to die, then there will be only five. Whenthey are all gone I shall sit here by the stove until the end comes. There is nothing doing now to keep me awake, since you boys quit gettingme mad. Say, boys, do you know, I haven't been real mad since you quitcoming here. The only fun I have had is swearing at my customers whenthey stick up their noses at my groceries. It's the funniest thing, whenI tell an old customer that if they don't like my goods they can go plumto thunder, they get mad and go somewhere else to trade. Times must bechanging. Years ago, the more I abused customers the more they liked it, and I just charged the goods to them with a pencil on a piece of brownwrapping paper. I had four cracker boxes full of brown wrapping paperwith things charged on the paper against customers, but when anybodywanted to pay their account it made my head ache to find it, and so oneday I balanced my books by using the brown wrapping paper to kindle thefire. If you ever want to get even with the world, easy, just pour alittle kerosene on your accounts, and put them in the stove. I havenever been so free from worry as I have since I balanced my booksin the stove. Well, I suppose you have come home on account of yourdad's sickness, " said the old groceryman, turning to the bad boy, who had written a sign, 'The Morgue, ' and pinned it on the window. "Iunderstand your dad had an operation performed on him in a hospital. What did the doctors take out of him?"

"Dad had an operation all right, " said the bad boy, "but he is not asmuch interested in what they took out of him, as what he thinks theyleft in. They said they removed his appendix, and I guess they did, fordad showed me the bill the doctors rendered. The bill was big enough sothey might have taken out a whole lot more. If I had been home I wouldnever have let him be cut into, but ma insisted that he must have anoperation. She said all the men on our street, and all that moved in ourset, had had operations, and she was ashamed to go out in society andbe forced to admit that dad never had an operation, She told dad thathe could afford it better than half the people that had operations, andthat a scar criss-cross on the stomach was a badge of honor. He nevergot a scar in the army, and she simply would not be able to look peoplein the face unless dad was operated on. Dad always was subject tostomach ache, but until appendicitis became fashionable he had alwaystaken a mess of pills, and come out all right, but ma diagnosed the casethe last time he was doubled up like a jack-knife, and dad was hustledoff to the hospital, and they didn't do a thing to him. 

"He told me about it since I came home, and now he lays the whole thingto ma, and I have to stand between them. He is going to get even withma, though. The first time she complains of anything going on insideof her works, he is going to send her right to a hospital and have thedoctors do their worst. Dad said to me, says he:

"'Hennery, if you ever feel anything like a caucus being held insideyou, don't you ever go to a hospital, but just swallow a stick ofdynamite and light the fuse, then there won't be anything left inside tobother you afterwards. When I got to the hospital they stripped me fora prize fight, put me on a table made of glass, and rolled me into theoperating room, gave me chloroform and when they thought I was all in, they took an axe and chopped me. I could feel every blow, and it is awonder they left enough of your old dad for you to hug when you camehome. '

"Say, it is kind of pitiful to hear dad talk about the things they leftin him. "

"What things does he think they left in him, " asked the old groceryman, as he looked frightened, and felt of his stomach, as though hemistrusted there might be something wrong with him, too. 

"O, dad has been reading in the papers about doctors that performoperations leaving sponges, forceps, and things inside of patients, whenthey close up the place, and since dad has got pretty fussy since hisoperation he thinks they left something in him. Some days he thinks theyleft a roll of cotton batting, or a pillow, or a bale of hay, but whenthere is a sharp pain inside he thinks they left a carving knife, butfor a week he has settled down to the belief that the doctors left amonkey wrench in him, and he is just daffy on that subject. Says he canfeel it turning around, as though it was miscrewing machinery, andhe wants to consult a new doctor every day as to what he can take todissolve a monkey wrench, so it will pass off through the blood andpores of the skin. He has taken it into his head that nothing will savehis life except to travel all over the country, and the world. I am togo with him to look after him. "

[Illustration: Doctors left a monkey wrench in him 025]

"By ginger, it's great! Just think of it. Traveling all over the worldand nothing to do but nurse my old dad who thinks he is filled withhardware and carpenter's tools. Gee! but I wish you could go, " saidthe bad boy, as he put him arm around his chum. "Maybe we wouldn'tmake these foreigners sit up and take an interest in something besidesRoyalty and Riots. "

"Well, " said the groceryman, "they will have my sympathy with you aloneover there. "

"But before you start on the road with your monkey-wrench show, you comein here and let me put up a package of those prunes to take along. Theywill keep in any climate, and there is nothing better for iron in theblood, such as your dad has, than prunes. Call again, bub, and we willarrange for you to write to your chum from all the places you go withyour dad, and he can come in here and read the letters to me and thecat. "

"All right, old Father Time, " said the bad boy, as he drew a mug ofcider out of the vinegar barrel, and took a swallow. "But what you wantto do is to get a road scraper and drive a team through this grocery, and clean the floor, " and the boys went out just ahead of the old man'sarctic overshoes, as he kicked at them, and then he went back and satdown by the stove and stroked the cat, which had got its back downlevel again, after its old enemies had gone down the street, throwingsnowballs at the driver of a hearse. 

[Illustration: Went out just ahead of the old man's arctic overshoes027]

"It is a solemn occupation to drive a hearse, " said the bad boy. 

"Not so solemn as riding inside, " said the chum. 

CHAPTER II. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Ready for Their Travels--The Bad Boy Labels the Old Man's Suit Case--How the Cowboys Made Him Dance Once. 

The old groceryman was in front of the grocery, bent oyer a box ofrutabagas, turning the decayed sides down to make the possible customerthink all was not as bad as it might be, when a shrill whistle down thestreet attracted his attention. He looked in the direction from which itcame, and saw the bad boy coming with a suit case in one hand and a soleleather hat box in the other, and the old man went in the store to saya silent prayer, and to lay a hatchet and an ax handle where he couldreach them if the worst came. 

"Well, you want to get a good look at me now, " said the bad boy, as hedropped the valise on the floor, and put the hat box on the counter, "for it will be months and maybe years, before you see me again. "

"Oh, joy!" said the old groceryman, as he heaved a sigh, and tried tolook sorry. "What is it, reform school, or have the police ordered youout of town? I have felt it coming for a long time. This is the onlytown you could have plied your vocation so long in and not been pulled. Where are you going with the dude suit case and the hat box?"

"Oh, dad has got a whole mess more diseases, and the doctors had aconversation over him Sunday, and they say he has got to go away again, right now, and that a sea voyage will brace him up and empty him out somedicine over in Europe can get in its work and strengthen him so he canstart back after a while and probably die on the way home, and be buriedat sea. Dad says he will go, for he had rather die at sea than on land, 'cause they don't have to have any trouble about a funeral, 'cause allthey do is to sew a man up in a piece of cloth, tie a sack of coal tohis feet, slide him off a board, and he goes kerplunk down into the saltwater about a mile, and stands there on his feet and makes the whalesand sharks think he is a new kind of fish. "

"Gee! but that is a programme that appeals to me as sort of uncanny, "said the old man. "Is your dad despondent over the outlook? What newdisease has he got?"

[Illustration: Pasted a tomato can label on the suitcase 31]

"All of 'em, " said the boy, as he took a label off a tomato can andpasted it on the end of the suit case. "You take an almanac and readabout all the diseases that the medicine advertised in the almanaccures, and dad has got the whole lot of them, nervous prostration, rheumatism, liver trouble, stomach busted, lungs congested, diaphragmturned over, heart disease, bronchitis, corns, bunions, every darn thinga man can catch without costing him anything. But he is not despondent. He just thinks it is an evidence of genius, and a certificate ofstanding in society and wealth. He argues that the poor people who haveonly one disease are not in it with statesmen and scholars. Oh, he isall right. He thinks if he goes to Europe all knocked out, he will classwith emperors and dukes. Oh, since he had that operation and had hisappendix chopped out, he thinks there is a bond of sympathy between himand King Edward that will cause him to be invited to be the guest ofroyalty. He is just daffy, " and the bad boy took a sapolio label out ofa box and pasted it on the other end of the valise. 

"What in thunder and lightning are you pasting those labels on yourvalise for?" said the old man, as the boy reached for a Quaker oatslabel and a soap advertisement and pasted them on. 

"Oh, dad said he wished he had some foreign labels of hotels and thingson his valise, to make fellow travelers believe he had been abroadbefore, and I told him I could fix it all right. You see, if I pastethings all over the valise he will think it is all right, 'cause heis near sighted, " and the boy pasted on a label for 37 varieties ofpickles, and then put on an advertisement for hair restorer on the hatbox. 

"Say, here's a fine one, this malted milk label, with a New Jersey cowon the corner, " said the old man, as he began to take interest in theboy's talent as an artist. "And here, try one of these green pea canlabels, and the pork and beans legend, and the only soap. Say, if youand your dad don't create a sensation from the minute you take the traintill you get back, you can take it out of my wages. When are you going?"

"To-morrow night, " said the boy, as he put more labels on the hat box, and stood off and looked at them with the eye of an artist. "We go toNew York first to stay a few days and see things, and then we take asteamer and sail away, and the sicker dad is the more time I will haveto fill up on useful nollig. "

"Hennery, " said the old groceryman, as his chin trembled, and a tearcame to his eye. "I want to ask you a favor. At times, when you havebeen unusually mean, I have thought I hated you, but when I have saidsomething ugly to you, and have laid awake all night regretting it, ithas occurred to me that you were about the best friend I had. I think itmakes an old man forget his years, to be chummy with a live boy, full ofginger, and I do like you, condemn you, and I can't help it. Now I wantyou to write me every little while, on your trip, and I will read yourletters to the customers here in the store, who will be lonely untilthey can hear that you are dead. The neighbors will come in to read yourletters, and it will bring me custom. Will you write to me, boy, andpour out your heart to me, and tell me of the different troubles you getyour dad into, for surely you cannot help finding trouble over there ifyou go hunting for it. Promise me, boy. "

"You bet your life I will, old pard, " said the bad boy. "I shall have tohave some escape valve to keep from busting. I was going to write tomy chum, but he is in love with a telephone girl, and he don't take anytime for pleasure. I will write you about every dutch and duchess wemeet, every prince and pauper, and everything. You watch my smoke, andyou will think there is a train afire. I hope dad will try and restrainhimself from wanting to fight everybody that belongs to any country butAmerica. He has bought one one these little silk American flags to wearin his button hole, and he swears if anybody looks cross-eyed at thatflag he will simply cut his liver out, and toast it on a fork, and eatit. He makes me tired, and I know there is going to be trouble. "

"Don't you think your dad's mind sort of wanders?" said the oldgroceryman, in a whisper, "It wouldn't be strange, after all he has gonethrough, in raising you up to your present size, if he was a little offhis base. "

"Well, ma thinks he is bug-house, and the hired girl is willing to gointo court and swear to it, and that experience we had coming home fromthe Yellowstone park some time ago, made me think if he was not crazy hewould be before long, You see, we had a hot box on the engine, and hadto stay at a station in the bad lands for an hour, and there were a messof cow boys on the platform, and I told dad we might as well have someamusement while we were there, and that a brake-man told me the cow boyswere great dancers, but you couldn't hire them to dance, but if some manwith a strong personality would demand that they dance, and put his handon his pistol pocket they would all jump in and dance for an hour. Thatwas enough for dad, for he has a microbe that he is a man of strongpersonality, and that when he demands that anybody do something theysimply got to do it, so he walked up and down the platform a couple oftimes to get his draw poker face on, and I went up to one of the cowboys and told him that the old duffer used to be a ballet dancer, and hethought everybody ought to dance when they were told to, and that if thespell should come on him, and he should order them to dance, it would bea great favor to me if they would just give him a double shuffle or two, just to ease his mind. 

"Well, pretty soon he came along to where the cowboys were leaningagainst the railing, and, looking at them in a haughty manner, he said:'Dance, you kiotes, dance, ' and he put his hand to his pistol pocket. Well, sir, I never saw so much fun in my life. Four of the cow boyspulled revolvers and began to shoot regular bullets into the platformwithin an inch of dad's feet, and they yelled to him: 'Dance your ownself, you ancient maverick; whoop 'er up!' and by gosh! dad was sofrightened that he began to dance all around the platform, and it waslike a battle, the bullets splintering the boards, and the smoke fillingthe air, and the passengers looking out of the windows and laughing, and the engineer and fireman looking on and yelling, and dad nearlyexhausted from the exertion. I guess if the conductor had not got thehot box put out and yelled all aboard, dad would have had apoplexy. "

[Illustration: He began to dance all around the platform 037]

"When he let up, the cow boys quit shooting, and he!'ol aboard the trainand started. I stayed in the smoking car with the train butcher for morethan an hour, 'cause I was afraid if I went in the car where dad was hewould make some remark that would offend my pride, and when I didgo back to the car he just said: 'Somebody fooled you. Those fellowscouldn't dance, and I knew it all the time. ' Yes, I guess there is nodoubt dad is crazy sometimes, but let me chaperone him through a fewforeign countries and he will stand without hitching all right. Well, goodby, now, old man, and try and bear up under it, till you get aletter from me, " and the bad boy took his labeled valise and hat box andstarted. 

CHAPTER III. 

 The Bad Boy Writes About the Fun They Had Going to Washington--He and His Dad Call on President Roosevelt-- The Bad Boy Meets One of the Children and They Disagree. 

Washington, D. C--My Dear Old Skate: I didn't tell you in my last aboutthe fun we had getting here. We were on the ocean wave two days, becausethe whole country was flooded from the rains, and dad walked the quarterdeck of the Pullman car, and hitched up his pants, and looked across thesea on each side of the train with a field glass, looking for whales andporpoises. He seems to be impressed with the idea that this trip abroadis one of great significance to the country, and that he is to be a sortof minister plenipotentiary, whatever that is, and that our country isgoing to be judged by the rest of the world by the position he takes onworld affairs. The first day out of Chicago dad corraled the porter in asection and talked to him until the porter was black in the face. I tolddad the only way to get respectful consideration from a negro was toadvocate lynching and burning at the stake, for the slightest things, sowhen our porter was unusually attentive to a young woman on the car dadhauled him over the coals, and scared him so by talking of hanging, andburning in kerosene oil, that the negro got whiter than your shirt, andwhen he got away from dad he came to me and asked if that old man withthe red nose and the gold-headed cane was as dangerous as he talked. I told him he was my dad, and that he was a walking delegate of theAmalgamated Association of Negro Lynchers, and when a negro did anythingthat he ought to be punished for they sent for dad, and he took chargeof the proceedings and saw that the negro was hanged, and shot, andburned up plenty. But I told him that dad was crazy on the subjectof giving tips to servants, and he must not fall dead when we got toWashington if dad gave him a $50 bill, and he must not give back anychange, but just act as though he always got $50 from passengers. Well, you'd a dide to see that negro brush dad 50 times a day, and bring atowel every few minutes to wipe off his shoes, but he kept one eye, 'about as big as an onion, on dad all the time, to watch that he didn'tget stabbed. The next morning I took dad's pants from under his pillow, and hid them in a linen closet, and dad laid in his berth all theforenoon, and had it out with the porter, whom he accused of stealingthem. The doctors told me I must keep dad interested and excited, so hewould not dwell on his sickness, and I did, sure as you are a foot high. Dad stood it till almost noon, when he came out of his berth with hispajamas on, these kind with great blue stripes like a fellow in thepenitentiary, and when he went to the wash room I found his pantsand then he dressed up and swore some at everybody but me. We got toWashington all right, and I thought I would bust when dad fished out anickel and gave it to the porter, and we got out of the car before theporter came to, and the first day we stayed in the hotel for fear thenegro would see us, as I told dad that porter would round up a gang ofnegroes with razors and they would waylay us and cut dad all up intosausage meat. 

[Illustration: Fished out a nickel and gave it to the porter 042]

Dad is the bravest man I ever saw when there is no danger, but whenthere is a chance for a row he is weak as a cat. I spect it is onaccount of his heart being weak. A man's internal organs are a greatstudy. I spose a brave man, a hero, has to have all his inside thingsworking together, to be real up and up brave, but if his heart isstrong, and his liver is white, he goes to pieces in an emergency, andif his liver is all right, and he tries to fight just on his liver, whenthe supreme moment arrives, and his heart jumps up into his throat, andwabbles and beats too quick, he just flunks. I would like to dissect areal brave man, and see what condition the things inside him are in, butit would be a waste of time to dissect dad, 'cause I know all his innerworks need to go to a watchmaker and be cleaned, and a new main springput in. 

Well, this morning dad shaved himself, and got on his frock coat, andhis silk hat, and said we would go over to the white house and havea talk with Teddy, but first he wanted to go and see where Jeffersonhitched his horse to the fence when he came to Washington to beinnogerated, and where Jackson smoked his corn cob pipe, and swore andstormed around when he was mad, and to walk on the same paths whereZachariah Taylor Zacked, Buchanan catched it, and Lincoln put downthe rebellion, and so we walked over toward the white house, and I wasscandalized. I stopped to pick up a stone to throw at a dog inside thefence, and when I walked along behind dad, and got a rear view of hissilk hat, it seemed as though I would sink through the asphalt pavement, for he had on an old silk hat that he wore before the war, the darnedestlooking hat I ever saw, the brim curled like a minstrel show hat, thefur rubbed off in some places, and he looked like one of these actorsthat you see pictures of walking on the railroad track, when the showbusts up at the last town. I think a man ought to dress so his youngson won't have a fit. I tried to get dad to go and buy a new hat, but hesaid he was going to wait till he got to London, and buy one just likeKing Edward wears, but he will never get to London with that hat, 'causeto-night I will throw it out of the hotel window and put a piece ofstove pipe in his hat box. 

Well, sir, you wouldn't believe it, but we got into the white housewithout being pulled, but it was a close shave, 'cause everybody lookedat dad, and put their forefingers to their foreheads, for they thoughthe was either a crank, or an ambassador from some furrin country. Thedetectives got around dad when we got into the anteroom, and began tofeel of his pockets to see if he had a gun, and one of them asked mewhat the old fellow wanted, and I told them he was the greatest bob catshooter in the west, and was on his way to Europe to invite the emperorsand things to come over to this country and shoot cats on his preserve. Well, say, you ought to have seen how they stepped one side and waltzedaround, and one of them went in the next room and told the president dadwas there, and before we knew it we were in the president's room, andthe president began to curl up his lip, and show his teeth like some onehad said "rats. "

[Illustration: President began to curl up his lip 045]

He got hold of dad's hand, and dad backed off as though he was afraid ofbeing bitten, and then they sat down and talked about mountain lion andcat shooting, and dad said he had a 22 rifle that he could pick a catoff the back fence with every time, out of his bedroom window, and Ibegan to look around at the pictures. Dad and the president talked aboutall kinds of shooting, from mudhens to moose, and then dad told thepresident he was going abroad on account of his liver, and wanted aletter of introduction to some of the kings and emperors, and queens, and jacks, and all the face cards, and the president said he made it apractice not to give any personal letters to his friends, the kings, but that dad could tell any of them that he met that he was an Americancitizen, and that would take him anywhere in Europe, and then he gotup and began to show his teeth at dad again, and dad gave him the grandhailing sign of distress of the Grand Army and backed out, dropped hishat, and in trying to pick it up, he stepped on it, but that made itlook better, anyway, and we found ourselves outside the room, and a lotof common people from the country were ready to go in and talk politicsand cat shooting. 

Well, we looked at pictures, and saw the state dining room where theyfeed 50 diplomats at a time on mud turtle and champagne, and a boy aboutmy size looked sort of disdainful at me, and I told him it he would comeoutside I would mash his jaw, and he said I could try it right thereif I was in a hurry to go, and I was starting to give him a swift punchwhen a detective took hold of my arm and said they couldn't have anyscrap there, 'cause the president's son could not fight with commonboys, and I asked him who he called a common boy, and then dad said webetter go before war broke out in a country that was illy prepared forhostilities on a large scale, and then I told a detective that dad wasliable to have one of his spells and begin shooting any minute, andthen the detectives all thought dad was one of these presidentassassinationists, and they took him into a room and searched him, andasked him a whole lot of fool questions, and they finally let us out, and told us we better skip the town before night. 

[Illustration: I was starting to give him a swift punch 047]

Dad got kind of heavy-hearted over that and took a notion he would liketo see ma again before crossing the briny deep, so you came near havingyour little angel again soon. This weakness of dad's didn't last long, for we're looking for a warm time in New York and old Lunnon. 

So long, Hennery. 

CHAPTER IV. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Visit Mount Vernon--Dad Weeps at the Grave of the Father of Our Country. 

New York City. --My Dear Uncle Ezra: I got a letter from my chum thismorning, and he says he was in the grocery the day he wrote, and youwere a sight. He says that if I am going to be away several months youwill never change your shirt till I get back, for nobody around thegrocery seems to have any influence over you. I meant to have put youunder bonds before I left, to change your shirt at least quarterly, butyou ought to change it by rights every month. The way to do is to getan almanac and make a mark on the figures at the first of the month, and when you are studying the almanac it will remind you of your duty tosociety. People east here, that is, business men in your class, changetheir shirts every week or two. Try and look out for these littlematters, insignificant as they may seem, because the public has somerights that it is dangerous for a man to ignore. 

Dad and I have been down to Mount Vernon, and had a mighty solemntime. I think dad expected that we would be met at the trolley car bya delegation of descendants of George Washington, by a four-horsecarriage, with postilions and things, and driven to the old house, andreceived with some distinction, as dad had always been an admirerof George Washington, and had pointed with pride to his record as astatesman and a soldier, but all we saw was a bunch of negroes, whotold us which way to walk, and charged us ten cents apiece for theinformation. 

At Mount Vernon we found the old house where George lived and died, where Martha told him to wipe his feet before he came in the house, andsaw that things were cooked properly. We saw pictures of revolutionaryscenes and men of that period, relics of the days when George was thewhole thing around there. We saw the bed on which George died, and thenwe went down to the icehouse and looked through the fence and saw themarble coffins in which George and Martha were sealed up. Say, old man, I know you haven't got much reverence, but you couldn't look throughthat fence at what remains of the father of his country without takingoff your hat and thinking good things while you were there. 

[Illustration: Saw the marble coffins in which George and Martha 050]

I was surprised at dad; he cried, though he never met George Washingtonin all his life. I have seen dad at funerals at home, when he was abearer, or a mourner, and he never acted as thought it affected himmuch, but there at Mount Vernon, standing within eight feet of theremains of George Washington, he just lost his nerve, and bellered, andI felt solemn myself, like I had been kept in after school when all theboys were going in swimming. If a negro had not asked dad for a quarterI know dad would have got down on his knees and been pious, but whenhe gave that negro a swift kick for butting in with a commercialproposition, in a sacred moment, dad come to, and we went up to thehouse again. Dad said what he wanted was to think of George Washingtonjust as a country farmer, instead of a general and a president. He saidwe got nearer to George, if we thought of him getting up in the morning, putting on his old farmer pants and shirt, and going downstairs in hisstocking feet, and going out to the kitchen by the wooden bench, dippinga gourd full of rain water out of a barrel into an earthen wash basinand taking some soft soap out of a dish and washing himself, his shirtopen so his great hairy breast would catch the breeze, his suspenders, made of striped bed ticking, hanging down, his hair touseled up untilhe had taken out a yellow pocket comb and combed it, and then yellingto Martha to know about how long a workingman would have to wait forbreakfast. And then dad said he liked to think of George Washingtonsitting down at the breakfast table and spearing sausages out of aplatter, and when a servant brought in a mess of these old-fashionedbuckwheat cakes, as big as a pieplate, see George, in imagination, pilota big one on to his plate, and cover it with sausage gravy, and eatlike he didn't have any dyspepsia, and see him help Martha to buckwheatcakes, and finally get up from breakfast like a full Christian and goout on the farm and count up the happy slaves to see if any of them hadgot away during the night. 

By ginger, dad inspired me with new thoughts about the father of hiscountry. I had always thought of Washington as though he was constantlycrossing the Delaware in a skiff, through floating ice, with a cockedhat on, and his coat flaps trimmed with buff nankeen stuff, a sort ofa male Eliza in "Uncle Tom's Cabin, " getting away from the hounds thatwere chasing her to chew her pants. I was always thinking of Georgeeither chopping cherry trees, or standing on a pedestal to have hispicture taken, but here at the old farm, with dad to inspire me, I wasjust mingling with Washington, the planter, the neighbor, telling thenegroes where they would get off at if they didn't pick cotton fastenough, or breaking colts, or going to the churn and drinking a quartof buttermilk, and getting the stomach ache, and calling upstairs toMartha, who was at the spinning wheel, or knitting woolen socks, andasking her to fix up a brandy smash to cure his griping pains. I thoughtof the father of his country taking a severe cold, and not being ableto run into a drug store for a bottle of cough sirup, or a quinine pill, having Martha fix a tub of hot mustard water to soak those great feet ofhis, and bundle him up in a flannel blanket, give him a hot whisky, andput him to bed with a hot brick at his feet. 

Then, when I looked at a duck blind out in the Potomac, near the shore, I thought how George used to put on an old coat and slouch hat and takehis gun and go out in the blind, and shoot canvas-back ducks for dinner, and paddle his boat out after the dead birds, the way Grover Clevelanddid a century later. I tell you, old man, the way to appreciate ourgreat statesmen, soldiers and scholars is to think of them just asplain, ordinary citizens, doing the things men do nowadays. It does dadand I more good to think of Washington and his friends camping out downthe Potomac, on a fishing trip, sleeping on a bed of pine boughs, andcooking their own pork, and roasting sweet potatoes in the ashes, eatingwith appetites like slaves, than to think of him at a state dinner inthe white house, with a French cook disguising the food so they couldnot tell what it was. 

O, I had rather have a picture of George Washington and Lafayette comingup the bank of the Potomac toward the house, loaded down with ducks, andMartha standing on the porch of Mount Vernon asking them who they boughtthe ducks of and how much they cost, than to have one of those bigpaintings in the white house showing George and Lafayette looking asthough they had conquered the world. If the phonograph had been inventedthen, and we could listen to the conversation of those men, just as theysaid things, it would be great. Imagine George saying to Lafayette, soyou cotild hear it now: "Lafe, that last shot at that canvasback youmade was the longest shot ever made on the Potomac. It was a Jim dandy, you old frog eater, " and imagine Lafayette replying: "You bet your life, George, I nailed that buck canvasback with a charge of number six shot, and he never knew what struck him. " But they didn't have any phonographsin those days and so you have got to imagine things. 

How would Washington's farewell address sound now in a phonograph, or some of George's choice swear words at a slave that had ridden asore-backed mule down to Alexandria after a jug of rum. I would like torun a phonograph show with nothing in the machine but ancient talk fromGeorge Washington, but we can have no such luck unless George is bornagain. 

Old man, if you ever get a furlough from business, you go down to MountVernon and revel in memories of the father of his country. If you go, hunt up a negro with a hair lip, that is a servant there, and who usedto be Washington's body servant, unless he is a liar, and tell him Isent you and he won't do a thing to you, for a dollar or so. I told thatnegro that dad was a great general, a second Washington, and he woreall the skin off his bald head taking off his hat to dad every time dadlooked at him, and he bowed until his back ached, but when we were goingaway, and dad asked me what ailed the old monkey to act that way, theold negro thought these new Washingtons were a pretty tough lot. 

All the time at Mount Vernon I couldn't get up meanness enough toplay any trick on dad, but I picked up a sort of a horse chestnut orsomething, with prickers on it as sharp as needles, and as we weregetting on the trolley I slipped it down the back of dad's pants, nearwhere his suspenders button on, and by the time we sat down in the carthe horse chestnut had worked down where dad is the largest, and when heleaned back against the seat he turned pale and wiggled around and askedme if he looked bad. 

[Illustration: Slipped it down the back of dad's pants 057]

I told him he looked like a corpse, which encouraged him so he almostfainted. He asked me if I had heard of any contagious diseases that wereprevalent in Virginia, 'cause he felt as though he had caught something. I told him I would ask the conductor, so I went and asked the conductorwhat time we got to Washington, and then I went back to dad and toldhim the conductor said there was no disease of any particular account, except smallpox and yellow fever, and that the first symptom of smallpoxwas a prickling sensation in the small of the back. 

Dad turned green and said he had got it all right, and I had thedarndest time getting him back to the hotel at Washington. Say, I had tohelp him undress, and I took the horse chestnut and put it in the footof the bed, and got dad in, and I went downstairs to see a doctor, andthen I came back and told him the doctor said if the prickly sensationwent to his feet he was in no danger from smallpox, as it was anevidence that an old vaccination of years ago had got in its work andknocked the disease out of his system lengthwise, and when I told dadthat he raised up in bed and said he was saved, for ever since I wentout of the room he had felt that same dreaded prickling at work on hisfeet, and he was all right. 

I told dad it was a narrow escape and that it ought to be a warningto him. Dad has to wear a dress suit to dinner here and cough up moneyevery time he turns around, 'cause I have told the bell boys dad is abonanza copper king, and they are not doing a thing to dad. 

O, I guess I am doing just as the doctors at home ordered, in keepingdad's mind occupied. 

Well, so long, old man, I have got to go to dinner with dad, and I amgoing to order the dinner myself, dad said I could, and if I don't puthim into bankruptcy, you don't know your little

Hennery. 

CHAPTER V. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Have Dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria-- The Bad Boy Orders Dinner--The Old Man Gets Stuck--Tries to Rescue a Countess in Distress. 

Waldorf-Astoria, New York. --Dear Uncle Ezra: We are still at thistavern, but we don't do anything but sleep here, and stay around inthe lobby evenings to let people look at us, and dad wears that oldswallow-tail coat he had before the war, but he has got a new silk hat, since we got here; one of these shiny ones that is so slick it makes hisclothes look offul bum. We about went broke on the first supper wehad, or dinner they call it here. You see, dad thought this was about athree-dollar-a-day house, and that the meals were included, like they doat Oshkosh, and so when we went down to dinner dad said we wouldn't doa thing to old Astor. He let me order the dinner, but told me to ordereverything on the bill-of-sale, because we wanted to get the worth ofour three dollars a day. Well, honest, I couldn't order all there was, 'cause you couldn't have got it all on a billiard table. Say, that listthey gave me had everything on it that was ever et or drunk, but I tolddad they would fire us out if we ordered the whole prescription, so allI ordered was terrapin, canvasback duck, oysters, clams, crabs, a lot ofnew kinds of fish, and some beef and mutton, and turkey, and woodcock, and partridge, and quail, and English pheasant, and lobster and saladsand ices, and pie and things, just to stay our stomachs, and when itcame to wine, dad weakened, because he didn't want to set a bad exampleto me, so he ordered hard cider for hisself and asked me if I wantedanything to drink, and I ordered brown pop. You'd a been tickled to seethe waiter when he took that order, 'cause I don't s'pose anybody everordered cider and brown pop there since Astor skinned muskrats for aliving, when he was a trapper up north. Gosh, but when they brought thatdinner in, you ought to have seen the sensation it created. Most of thepeople in the great dining hall looked at dad as though he was a Crases, or a Rockefeller, and the head waiter bowed low to dad, and dad thoughtit was Astor, and dad looked dignified and hurt at being spoken to by acommon tavern keeper. Well, we et and et, but we couldn't get away withhardly any of it, and dad wanted to wrap some of the duck and lobstersand things in a newspaper and take it to the room for a lunch, but thewaiter wouldn't have it. But the cyclone struck the house when dad andI got up to go out of the dining-room, and the waiter brought dad thecheck. 

[Illustration: The waiter brought dad the check 063]

"What is this?" said dad, as he put on his glasses and looked at thecheck which was $43 and over. 

"Dinner check, sir, " said the waiter, as he straightened back and heldout his hand. 

"Why, ain't this house run on the American plan?" said dad, as his chinbegan to tremble. 

"No, sir, on the Irish plan, " said the waiter. "You pays for what youhorders, " and dad began to dig up. He looked at me as though I was toblame, when he told me to order all there was in sight. Well, I havewitnessed heart-rending scenes, but I never saw anything that woulddraw tears like dad digging down for that $43. The doctors at home hadordered excitement for dad, but this seemed to be an overdose, and Iwas afraid he would collapse and I offered him my glass of brown pop tostimulate him, but he told me I could go plumb, and if I spoke to himagain he would maul me. He got his roll half out of his pistol pocket, and then talked loud and said it was a damoutridge, and he wanted to seeAstor himself before he would allow himself to be held up by highwaymen, and then all the other diners stood up and looked at dad, and a lot ofwaiters and bouncers surrounded him, and then he pulled out the roll, and it was pitiful to see him wet his trembling thumb on his tremblingdry tongue and begin to peel off the bills, like you peel the layers offan onion, but he got off enough to pay for the dinner, gave the waiterhalf a dollar, and smiled a sickly smile at the head waiter, and Iled him out of the dining-room a broken-down old man. As we got to thelobby, where the horse show of dress-suit chappies was beginning theevening procession, I said to dad: "Next time we will dine out, Iguess, " and at that he rallied and seemed to be able to take a joke, forhe said: "We dined out this time. We dined out $43, " and then we joinedthe procession of walkers around, and tried to look prosperous, andafter awhile dad called a bell boy, and asked him if there wasn't a gooddairy lunch counter near the Waldorf, where a man could go and get abowl of bread and milk, and the bell boy gave him the address of adairy lunch place, and I can see my finish, 'cause from this out we willprobably live on bread and milk while we are here, and I hate bread andmilk. 

It got all around the hotel, about the expensive dinner dad ordered forhimself and the little heir to his estate, and everybody wanted to getacquainted with dad and try to get some stock in his copper mine. I hadtold dad about my telling the boys he was a bonanza copper miner, andhe never batted an eye when they asked him about his mine, and he lookedthe part. 

[Illustration: One man wanted dad to cash a check 067]

One man wanted dad to cash a check, 'cause the bank was closed, and hewas a rich-looking duke, and dad was just going to get his roll out andpeel off some more onion, when I said: "Not on your tintype, Mr. Duke, "and dad left his roll in his pocket, and the duke gave me a look asthough he wanted to choke me, and went away, saying: "There is Mr. Pierpont Morgan, and I can get him to cash it. " I saved dad over ahundred dollars on that scheme, and so we are making money every minute. We went to our room early, so dad could digest his $43 worth of gladfood. 

Gee, but this house got ripped up the back before morning. You rememberI told you about a countess, or a duchess, or some kind of high-upfemale that had a room next to our room. Well, she is a beaut, fromButte, Mont. , or Cuba, or somewhere, for she acts like a queen that hasjust stepped off her throne for a good time. She has got a French maidthat is a peacharino. You know that horse chestnut, with the prickerson, that I put in dad's pants at Washington. Well, I have still got it, and as it gets dry the prickers are sharper than needles, sharper eventhan a servant's tooth, as it says in the good book. I thought I wouldgive dad a run for his money, 'cause exercise and excitement are goodfor a man that dined heartily on $43 worth of rich food, so when we wentto our room I told dad that I was satisfied from what a bell boy toldme that the countess in the next room, who had gold cords over hershoulders for suspenders, was stuck on him, because she was alwaysinquiring who the lovely old gentleman was with the sweet little boy. Dad he got so interested that he forgot to cuss me about ordering thatdinner, and he said he had noticed her, and would like real well to getacquainted with her, 'cause a man far away from home, sick as a dog, with no loving wife to look after him, needed cheerful company. So Itold him I had it all arranged for him to meet her, and then I went outin the hall, sort of whistling around, and the French maid came outand broke some English for me, and we got real chummy, 'cause she wasanxious to learn English, and I wanted to learn some French words; soshe invited me into the room, and we sat on the sofa and exchanged wordsquite awhile, until she was called to the telephone in the other room. Say, you ought to have seen me. I jumped up and put my hand insidethe sheets of the bed, and put that chestnut in there, right about themiddle of the bed, and then, after learning French quite a spell, withthe maid, we heard the countess getting off' the elevator, and the maidsaid I must skip, 'cause it was the countess' bed-time, and I went backand told dad the whole thing was arranged for him to meet the countess, in a half an hour or so, as she had to write a few letters to somekings and dukes, and when she gave a little scream; as though she waspracticing her voice on an opera, or something, dad was to go and rapat the door. Gosh, but I was sorry for dad, for he was so nervous andanxious for the half hour to expire that he walked up and down the room, and looked at himself in the mirror, and acted like he had indigestion. I had told the maid that she and the countess must feel perfectly safe, if anything ever happened, 'cause my dad was the bravest man in theworld, and he would rush to the rescue of the countess, if a burglar gotin in the night, or the water pipes busted, or anything, and all she hadto do was to screech twice and dad would be on deck, and she must openthe door quicker-n scat, and she thanked me, and said she would, and forme to come, too. Say, on the dead, wasn't that a plot for an amateur tocook up? Well, sir, we had to wait so long for the countess to get onthe horse chestnut that I got nervous myself, but after awhile therecame a scream that would raise your hair, and I told dad the countesswas singing the opera. Dad said: "Hennery, that ain't no opera, that'stragedy, " but she gave two or three more stanzas, and I told dad hebetter hustle, and we went out in the hall and rapped at the door of thecountess' room, and the maid opened it, and told us to send for a doctorand a policeman, 'cause the countess was having a fit. Well, say, thatwas the worst ever. The countess had jumped out of bed, and was pullingthe lace curtains around her, but dad thought she was crazy, and wasgoing to jump out of the window, and he made a grab for her, and heshouted to her to "be cam, be cam, poor woman, and I will rescue you. "I tried to pacify the maid the best I knew how, and dad was getting thecountess calmer, but she evidently thought he was an assassin, for everylittle while she would yell for help, and then the night watchman camein with a house policeman, and one of them choked dad off, and theyasked the countess what the trouble was, and she said she had justretired when she was stabbed about a hundred times in the small of theback with a poniard, and she knew conspirators were assassinating her, and she screamed, and this old bandit, meaning dad, came in, and thelittle monkey, meaning me, had held his hand over her maid's mouth, soshe could not make any outcry. 

[Illustration: Night watchman came in with a house policeman 071]

Well, I got my horse chestnut all right, out of the bed, and thepoliceman told the countess not to be alarmed, and go back to bed, andthey took dad and I to our room, and asked us all about it. Gee, butdad put up a story about hearing a woman scream in the next room, and, thinking only of the duty of a gentleman under the circumstances, rushedto her rescue, and all there was to it was that she must have had anightmare, but he said if he had it to do over again, he would do thesame. Anyway, the policeman believed dad, and they went off and left us, and we went to bed, but dad said: "Hennery, you understand, I don't wantto make any more female acquaintances, see, among the crowned heads, and from this out we mingle only with men. The idea of me going into awoman's room and finding a Floradora with fits and tantrums, and me, asick man. Now, don't write to your ma about this, 'cause she never didhave much confidence in me, around women with fits. " So, Uncle Ezra, youmust not let this get into the papers, see?

Well, we have bought our tickets for Liverpool, and shall sailto-morrow, and while you are making up your cash account Saturday night, we shall be on the ocean. I s'pose I will write you on the boat, if theywill tie it up somewhere so it will stand level. Your dear boy. Hennery. 

CHAPTER VI. 

 The Bad Boy Writes the Old Groceryman About Ocean Voyages-- His Dad Has an Argument Over a Steamer Chair. 

On Board the Lucinia, Mid-ocean. 

Dear Old Geezer. 

I take the first opportunity, since leaving New York, to write you, 'cause the boat, after three days out, has got settled down so it runslevel, and I can write without wrapping my legs around the table legs, to hold me down. I have tried a dozen times to write, but the sea was sorough that part of the time the table was on top of me and part of thetime I was on top, and I was so sick I seem to have lost my mind, overthe rail, with the other things supposed to be inside of me. O, old man, you think you know what seasickness is, 'cause you told me once aboutcrossing Lake Michigan on a peach boat, but lake sickness is easycompared with the ocean malady. I could enjoy common seasickness andthink it was a picnic, but this salt water sickness takes the cake. I amsorry for dad, because he holds more than I do, and he is so slowabout giving up meals that he has paid for, that it takes him longer tocommune with nature, and he groans so, and swears some. 

[Illustration: I am sorry for dad, because he holds more than I do 074]

I don't see how a person can swear when he is seasick on the ocean, withno sure thing that he will ever see land again, and a good prospect ofgoing to the bottom, where you got to die in the arms of a devil fish, with a shark biting pieces out of your tender loin and a smoked halibutwaiting around for his share of your corpse, and whales blowing syphonsof water and kicking because they are so big that they can't get at youto chew cuds of human gum, and porpoises combing your damp hair withtheir fine tooth comb fins, and sword fish and sawtooth piscatorialcarpenters sawing off steaks. Gee, but it makes me crawl. I once saw adead dog in the river, with bull heads and dog-fish ripping him up theback, and I keep thinking I had rather be that dog, in a nice river athome, with bullheads that I knew chewing me at their leisure, than to bea dead boy miles down in the ocean, with strange fish and sea serpentsquarreling over the tender pieces in me. A man told me that if you smokecigarets and get saturated with nickoteen, and you are drownded, thefish will smell of you, and turn up their noses and go away and leaveyour remains, so I tried a cigaret, and, gosh, but I had rather be etby fish than smoke another, on an ocean steamer. It only added to mysickness, and I had enough before. I prayed some, when the boat stood onits head and piled us all up in the front end, but a chair struck me onthe place where Fitzsimmons hit Corbett, and knocked the prayer all outof me, and when the boat stood on her butt end and we all slid back thewhole length of the cabin, and I brought up under the piano, I tried tosing a hymn, such as I used to in the 'Piscopal choir, before my voicechanged, but the passengers who were alive yelled for some one to chokeme, and I didn't sing any more. Dad was in the stateroom when we wererolling back and forth in the cabin, and between sicknesses he cameout to catch me and take me into the stateroom, but he got the rollinghabit, too, and he rolled a match with an actress who was voyaging forher health, and they got offully mixed up. He tried to rescue her, andgrabbed hold of her belt and was reeling her in all right, when a manwho said he was her husband took dad by the neck and said he must keephis hands off or get another nose put on beside the one he had, and thenthey all rolled under a sofa, and how it came out I don't know, but thenext morning dad's eye was blacked, and the fellow who said he was herhusband had his front teeth knocked out, and the actress lost her backhair and had to wear a silk handkerchief tied around her head the restof the trip, and she looked like a hired girl who has been out to asaloon dance. 

The trouble with dad is that he butts in too much. He thinks he is thewhole thing and thinks every crowd he sees is a demonstration for him. When the steamer left New York, there were hundreds of people on thedock to see friends off, and they had flowers to present to Unfriends, and dad thought they were all for him, and he reached for every bunch ofroses that was brought aboard, and was going to return thanks for them, when they were jerked away from him, and he looked hurt. When the gangplank was pulled in, and the boat began to wheeze, and grunt, and moveaway from the dock, and dad saw the crowd waving handkerchiefs andlaughing, and saying _bon voyage_, he thought they were doing it all forhim, and he started in to make a speech, thanking his fellow countrymenfor coming to see him off, and promising them that he would prove a truerepresentative of his beloved country in his travels abroad, and thathe would be true to the stars and stripes wherever fortune might placehim, and all that rot, when the boat got so far away they could not hearhim, and then he came off his perch, and said, "Hennery, that littleimpromptu demonstration to your father, on the eve of his departure fromhis native land, perhaps never to return, ought to be a deep and lastinglesson to you, and to show you that the estimation in which I am heldby our people, is worth millions to you, and you can point with pride toyour father. " I said "rats" and dad said he wouldn't wonder if the boatwas full of rats, and then we stood on deck, and watched the objects ofinterest down the bay. 

[Illustration: A speech, thanking his fellow countrymen 078]

As we passed the statue of Liberty, which France gave to the republic, on Bedloe's Island, dad started to make a speech to the passengers, butone of the officers of the boat told dad this was no democratic caucus, and that choked him off, but he was loaded for a speech, and I knewit was only a matter of time when he would have to fire it off, but Ithought when we got outside the bar, into the ocean, his speech wouldcome up with the rest of the stuff, and I guess it did, for after hebegan to be sea sick he had to keep his mouth shut, which was a greatrelief to me, for I felt that he would say something that would get thiscountry in trouble with other nations, as there were lots of foreignerson board. I heard that J. Pierpont Morgan was on board, and I toldeverybody I got in conversation with that dad was Pierpont Morgan, andwhen people began to call him Mr. Morgan, I told dad the passengersthought he was Morgan; the great financier, and it tickled dad, and henever denied it. Anyway, the captain put dad and I at his own table, and he called me "Little Pierp, " and everybody discussed great financialquestions with dad, and everything would have been lovely the wholetrip, only Morgan came amongst us after he had been sea sick for threedays, and they gave him a seat opposite us, and with two Morgans at thesame table it was a good deal like two Uncle Tom's in an Uncle Tom'sCabin show, so dad had to stay in his stateroom on account of sickness, a good deal. Then dad got to walking on deck and flirting with thefemale passengers. Say, did you ever see an old man who was stuck onhisself, and thought that every woman who looked at him, from curiosity, or because he had a wart on his neck, and watch him get busy making 'embelieve he is a young and kitteny thing, who is irresistible? Gee, but it makes me tired. No man can mash, and make eyes, and have a lovescene, when he has to go to the rail every few minutes and hump hisselfwith something in him that is knocking at the door of his palate, tocome out the same way it went in. Dad found a widow woman who lookedback at him kind of sassy, when he braced up to her, and when the shiprolled and side-stepped, he took hold of her arm to steady her, and shesaid maybe they better sit down on deck and talk it over, so dad founda couple of steamer chairs that were not in use, and they sat down neartogether, and dad took hold of her hand to see if she was nervous, andhe told me I could go any play mumbletypeg in the cabin, and I went inthe cabin and looked out of the window at dad and the widow. Say, youwouldn't think two chairs could get so close, and dad was sure lovesick, and so was she. The difference between love sick and sea sick isthat in love sick you look red in the face and snuggle up, and squeezehands, and look fondly, and swallow your emotion, and try to waitpatiently until it is dark enough so the spectators won't noticeanything, and in sea sickness you get pale in the face, and spreadapart, and let go of hands, and after you have stood it as long asyou can you rush to the rail and act as though you were going to jumpoverboard, and then stop sudden and let-'er-go-gallagher, right beforefolks, and after it is over you try to look as though you had enjoyedit. I will say this much for dad, he and the widow never played a duetover the rail, but they took turns, and dad held her as tenderly asthough they were engaged, and when he got her back to the steamer chairhe stroked her face and put camphor to her nose, and acted like anundertaker that wasn't going to let the remains get away from him. Theywere having a nice convalescent time, just afore it broke up, and hadn'teither of them been sick for ten minutes, and dad had put his arm aroundher shoulders, and was talking cunning to her, and she was lookinglovingly into dad's eyes, and they were talking of meeting again inFrance in a few weeks, where she was going to rent a villa, and dad wassaying he would be there with both feet, when I opened the window andsaid, "The steward is bringing around a lunch, and I have ordered twoboiled pork sandwiches for you two easy marks. " Well, you'd a dide tosee 'em jump. What there is about the idea of fat pork that makes peoplewho are sea sick have a relapse, I don't know, but the woman grabbed herstum-mix in both hands and left dad and rushed into the cabin yelling"enough, " or something like that, and dad laid right back in the chairand blatted like a calf, and said he would kill me dead when we gotashore. Just then an Englishman came along and told dad he better getup out of his chair, and dad said whose chair you talking about, and theman said the chair was his, and if dad didn't get out of it, he wouldkick him in the pants, and dad said he hadn't had a good chance at anEnglishman since the Revolutionary war, and he just wanted a chanceto clean up enough Englishmen for a mess, and dad got up and stood at"attention, " and the Englishman squared off like a prize fighter, andthey were just going to fight the battle of Bunker Hill over again, whenI run up to an officer with gold lace on his coat and lemon pie on hiswhiskers, and told him an old crazy Yankee out on deck was going tomurder a poor sea sick Englishman, and the officer rushed out and tookdad by the coat collar and made him quit, and when he found what thequarrel was about, he told dad all the chairs were private propertybelonging to the passengers, and for him to keep out of them, and heapologized to the Englishman and they went into the saloon and settledit with high balls, and dad beat the Englishman by drinking two highballs to his one. Then dad set into a poker game, with ten cents ante, and no limit, and they played along for a while until dad got fourjacks, and he bet five dollars, and a Frenchman raised him five thousanddollars, and dad laid down his hand and said the game was too rich forhis blood, and when he reached in his vest pocket for money to pay forhis poker chips he found that his roll was gone, and he said he wouldleave his watch for security until he could go to his state room and getsome money, and then he found that his watch had been pinched, and theEnglishman said he would be good for it, and dad came out in the cabinand wanted me to help him find the widow, cause he said when she laidher head on his shoulder, to recover from her sickness, he felt afumbling around his vest, but he thought it was nothing but his stomachwiggling to get ready for another engagement, but now he knew she hadrobbed him. Say, dad and I looked all over that boat for the widow, butshe simply had evaporated. But land is in sight, and we shall land atLiverpool this afternoon, and dad is going to lay for the widow at thegang plank, and he won't do a thing to her. I guess not. Well, you willhear from me in London next, and I'll tell you if dad got his money andwatch back. 

Hennery. 

CHAPTER VII. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Eat Fog--Call on Astor--A Dynamite Outrage. 

London, England. 

Dear Old Man:

Well, sir, if a court sentenced me to live in this town, I would appealthe case, and ask the judge to temper his sentence with mercy, and hangme. Say, the fog here is so thick you have to feel around like a blindgoddess, and when you show up through the fog you look about eighteenfeet high, and you are so wet you want to be run through a clotheswringer every little while. For two days we never left the hotel, butlooked out of the windows waiting for the fog to go by, and watching thepeople swim through it, without turning a hair. Dad was for going rightto the Lord Mayor and lodging a complaint, and demanding that the fog becleared off, so an American citizen could go about town and blow in hismoney, but I told him he could be arrested for treason. He come mightynear being arrested on the cars from Liverpool to London. When we gotoff the steamer and tried to find the widow who robbed dad of hiswatch and roll of money, but never found her, we were about the lastpassengers to reach the train, and when we got ready to get on we foundthese English cars that open on the sides, and they put you into a boxstall with some other live stock, and lock you in, and once in a whilea guard opens the door to see if you are dead from suffocation, or havebeen murdered by the other passengers. Dad kicked on going in one of thekennels the first thing, and said he wanted a parlor car; but the guardtook dad by the pants and gave him a shove, and tossed me in on top ofdad, and two other passengers and a woman in the compartment snickered, and dad wanted to fight all of 'em except the woman, but he concluded tomash her. When the door closed clad told the guard he would walk on hisneck when the door opened, and that he was not an entry in a dog show, and he wanted a kennel all to himself, and asked for dog biscuit. Gee, but that guard was mad, and he gave dad a look that started the traingoing. I whispered to dad to get out his revolver, because the otherpassengers looked like hold up men, and he took his revolver out ofhis satchel and put it in his pistol pocket, and looked fierce, and thewoman began to act faint, while the passengers seemed to be preparingto jump on dad if he got violent. When the train stopped at the firststation I got out and told the guard that the old gentleman in therewas from Helena, Montana, and that he had a reputation from St. Paulto Portland, and then I held up both hands the way train robbers makepassengers hold up their hands. When I went back in the car dad wastalking to the woman about her resembling a woman he used to know inthe states, and he was just going to ask her how long she had been sobeautiful, when the guard came to the side door and called the woman outinto another stall, and then one of the passengers pulled out a pairof handcuffs and told dad he might as well surrender, because he was aScotland yard detective and had spotted dad as an American embezzler, and if he drew that gun he had in his pocket there would be a deadYankee in about four minutes. Well, I thought dad had nerve before, buthe beat the band, right there. He unbuttoned his overcoat and put hisfinger on a Grand Army button in his buttonhole, and said, "Gentlemen, I am an American citizen, visiting the crowned heads of the old world, with credentials from the President of the United States, and day aftertomorrow I have a date to meet your king, on official business thatmeans much to the future peace of our respective countries. Lay a handon me and you hang from the yard arm of an American battleship. " Well, sir, I have seen a good many bluffs in my time, but I never saw theequal of that, for the detective turned white, and apologized, and askeddad and I out to luncheon at the next station, and we went and ate allthere was, and when the time was up the detective disappeared and dadhad to pay for the luncheon, but he kicked all the way to London, andthe guard would not listen to his complaints, but told him if he triedto hold up the train he would be thrown out the window and run over bythe train. We had the compartment to ourselves the rest of the way toLondon, except about an hour, when the guard shoved in a farmer whosmelled like cows, and dad tried to get in a quarrel with him, aboutEnglish roast beef coming from America, but the man didn't have hisarguing clothes on, so dad began to find fault with me, and the mantold dad to let up on the kid or he would punch his bloody 'ed off. Thatsettled it, when the man dropped his "h, " dad thought he was one of thenobility, and he got quite chummy with the Englishman, and then wegot to London, and dad had a quarrel about his baggage, and afterthreatening to have a lot of fights he got his trunk on the roof of acab, and in about an hour we got to the hotel, and then the fog began anengagement. If the fog here ever froze stiff, the town would look likea piece of ice with fish frozen in. Gee, but I would like to have itfreeze in front of our hotel, so I could take an ax and go out and chopa frozen girl out, and thaw her till she came to. 

Say, old man, if anybody ever wants to treat you to a trip to Europe, don't come here, but go to some place where they don't think theycan speak English. You can understand a Nitalian or a Frenchman, or aDutchman, who can't speak English, and knows he can't, better than youcan an Englishman who thinks he can speak English, and can't, "don't youknow. " Everything is "don't you know. " If a servant gives you an eveningpaper, he says, "'Ere's your paiper, don't you know, " and if a manshould--I don't say they would, but if a man _should_ give you a civilanswer, when you asked him the name of a street, he would look at youas though you were a cannibal, and say, "Regent street, don't you know, "and then he would act as though you had broken him of his rest. Dadasked more than a dozen men where Bill Astor lived, and of all thepopulation of London I don't believe anybody knows, except one newsboy. We rode half a day on top of a bus, through streets so crowded that thehorses had to creep, and dad hung on for fear the bus would be tippedover, and finally we got out into the suburbs, where the rich peoplelive, and dad said we were right on the trail of King Edward, and we gotoff and loitered around, and dad saw a beautiful place, with a big ironfence, and a gate as big as a railroad bridge, and dad asked a newsboywho lived there, and the boy made up a face at dad and said, "H'astor, you bloke, " and he put out his hand for a tip. It was the first civilanswer dad had received in London, so he gave the boy a dollar. The boyfell over on the sidewalk, dead, and dad started to go away for fear hewould be arrested for murder, but I kicked the boy on the pants, and hegot up and yelled some kind of murdered English, and more than a dozennewsboys came on a gallop, and when the boy told them what had happenedthey all wanted dad to ask them questions. I told the boys dad wasAndrew Carnegie, and that he was giving away millions of dollars, sowhen dad got to the gate of the beautiful H'astor place, the boys yelledAndrew Carnegie, and a flunkey flunked the gate open and dad and I wentin, and walked up to the house. Astor was on the veranda, smoking aMissouri corn cob pipe, and drinking American beer, and seemed tobe wishing he was back home in America. Dad marched right up to theveranda, like a veteran soldier, and Astor could see dad was an Americanby the dandruff on his coat collar, and Astor said, "You are an Americancitizen and you are welcome. Once I was like you, and didn't care acontinental dam for anybody, but in a moment of passion I renounced mycountry, swore allegiance to this blawsted country, and everybody hatesme here, and I don't dare go home to collect my rent for fear I will bequarantined at Ellis Island and sent back to England as an undesirableemigrant who has committed a crime, and is not welcome in the land whereI was born. Old man, have a glass of Milwaukee beer and let's talk ofyour home and my birthplace, and forget that there is such a country asEngland. " Dad sat down on the porch, and I went out on the lawn chasingpeacocks and treeing guinea hens, and setting dogs on the swans, until abutler or a duke or something took me by the collar and shook me till myteeth got loose, and he took me back to the veranda and sat me down onthe bottom step so hard my hair raised right up stiff, like a porcupine. Then I listened to dad and Astor talk about America, and I never saw aman who seemed to be so ashamed that he was a brevet Englishman, as hedid. He said he had so much money that it made his headache to hear theinterest accumulate, nights, when he couldn't sleep, and yet he had nomore enjoyment than Dreyfus did on Devil's Island. He had automobilesthat would fill our exposition building, horses and carriages by thescore, but he never enjoyed a ride about London, because only one personin ten thousand knew him, and those who did looked upon him with pityand contempt because he had renounced his country to get solid with theEnglish aristocracy, and nobody would speak to him unless they wanted toborrow money, and if they did borrow money from him he was afraid theywould pay it back, and make him trouble counting it. He told dad hewanted to get back into America, and become a citizen again of thatgrand old country of the stars and stripes, and asked dad how he coulddo it, for he said he had rather work in a slaughter house in Americathan be a grand duke in England. I never saw dad look so sorry for a manas he did for Astor, and he told him the only way was to sell out hisranch in London and go back on an emigrant ship, take out his firstpapers, vote the democratic ticket and eventually become a citizen. Astor was thinking over the proposition, and dad had asked him if hewas not afraid of dynamiters, when he shuddered and said every day heexpected to be blown sky high, and finally he smelled something burningand said the smell reminded him of an American 4th of July. You see, Ihad been sitting still on the step of the veranda so long I got nervous, for something exciting, so I took a giant firecracker out of mypocket and lit the long tail, and shoved it under the porch and lookedinnocent, and just then one of the flunkies with the tightest pants youever saw came along and patted me on the head and said I was a nice boy, and that made me mad, and when he went to sit down beside me on the stepI took my horse chestnut out of my pocket and put it on the step justwhere he sat down, and how it happened to come out so I don't know, itmust have been Providence. 

[Illustration: Now I lay me down to sleep 094]

You see just as the flunkey flunked on the chestnut burr, the firecracker went off, and the man jumped up and said '"Ells-fire, h'amblowed, " and he had his hands on his pants, and the air was full ofsmoke, and dad got on his knees and said, "Now I lay me, " and Mr. Astorfainted all over a rocking chair and tipped beer bottles on the verandaand more than forty servants came, and I told dad to come on, and we gotoutside the gate, ahead of the police, and got a cab and drove quickerthan scat to the hotel, and I ast dad what he thought it was that wentoff, and he said "You can search me, " but he said he had got enough oftrying to reform escaped Americans, and we got in the hotel and laidlow, and the newspapers told about a dynamite outrage, and laid it toanarchists. Well I must close, cause we are going to see the Americanminister and get a date to meet King' Edward. We won't do a thing toEdward. 

Yours, Hennery. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

 The Bad Boy Writes About the Craze for Gin in the Whitechapel District--He Gives His Dad a Scare in the Tower of London. 

London, England. --My Dear Chum: I received your letter yesterday, and itmade me homesick. Gee, but if I could be home there with you and go downto the swimming hole and get in all over, and play tag in the sand, andtie some boy's pants and shirt in knots, and yell that the police arecoming, and all grab our clothes under our arms and run across lots withno clothes on, and get in a barn and put on our clothes, and dry ourhair by pounding it with a stick, so we would not get licked when we gothome, life would be worth living, but here all I do is to dodge peopleon the streets and see them look cross when they step on me. 

Say, boy, you will never know your luck in being a citizen of good oldAmerica, instead of a subject of Great Britain, because you have gotto be rich or be hungry here, and if you are too rich you have got noappetite. You have heard of the roast beef of old England, but nobodyeats it but the dukes and bankers. The working men never even sawa picture of a roast beef, and yet we look upon all Englishmen asbeef-eaters, but three-fourths of the people in this town look hungryand discouraged, and they never seem to know whether they are going tohave any supper. 

I went down to a market this morning where the middle class and the verypoor people buy their supplies, and it would make you sick to see them. They buy small loaves of bread and a penny's worth of tea, and that isbreakfast, and if a man is working he takes some of the bread to workfor lunch, and the wife or mother buys a carrot or a quarter of acabbage, and maybe a bone with a piece of meat about as big as a fishbait, and that makes supper, with a growler of beer. 

Say, the chunk of meat with a bone that an American butcher would throwat a dog that he had never been introduced to would be a banquet for alarge family over here. 

I have been down into the White Chapel district, which is the FivePoints of London, and of the thousands of tough people I saw therewas not a man but looked as though he would cut your liver out for ashilling, and every woman was drunk on gin. What there is about gin thatmakes it the national beverage for bad people beats me, for it lookslike water, tastes like medicine and smells like cold storage eggs. Athome when a person takes a drink of beer or whisky he at least lookshappy for a minute, and maybe he laughs, but here nobody laughs unlesssomebody gets hurt, and that seems to tickle everybody in the WhiteChapel district. 

The people look mad and savage when they are not drinking, as thoughthey were only looking for an opportunity to commit murder, and thenwhen they take a drink of gin, instead of smiling and smacking theirlips as though it was good and braced them up, they look as thoughthey had been stabbed with a dirk and they put on a look of revenge, as though they would like to wring a child's neck or cut holes in thepeople they meet. 

Two drinks of gin makes a man or woman look as though they had swalloweda buzz saw. I always thought drinking liquor made people think they wereenjoying themselves, or that they took it to drive away care and makethem forget their sorrows, but when these people drink gin they seemto do it the way an American drinks carbolic acid, to end the wholebusiness quick. 

At home the drinker drinks to make him feel like he was at a picnic. Here every drinker acts like a suicide, who only hopes that he maycommit a murder before the gin ends his career. And there are hundredsof thousands of people in this town who have no ambition except to geta bit of bread to sustain them till they can get a drink of gin, andgradually they let up on bread entirely and feed on gin, and look likemad dogs and snarl at everybody they see, as much as to say: "What areyou going to do about it?"

[Illustration: Snarl at everybody they see 101]

A good square American meal would give them a fit, and they would go toa hospital and die if the meal could not be got out of them. 

Gosh, but I was glad to get out of the White Chapel district, and I keptlooking back for fear one of the men or women would slit me up the backwith a butcher knife, and laugh like an insane asylum inmate. 

Do you know, those people who drink gin and go hungry are different fromour American murderers. Our murderers will assault you with a smile, robyou with a joke on their tongue's end, and give you back car fare whenthey hold you up, and if they murder you they will do it easy and layyou out with your hands across on your breast and notify the coroner, but your White Chapel murderer wants to disembowel you and cut you upinto chunks, and throw your remains head first into something nasty, and if you have money enough on your person to buy a bottle of gin yourmurderer is as well satisfied as though he got a roll. Some men in ourcountry commit murders in order to get money to lay away so they canlive a nice, respectable life and be good ever afterwards, but your slummurderer in London just kills because his stomach craves a drink, andwhen he gets it he is tame, like a tiger that has eaten a native ofIndia. 

You may think this letter is a solemn occasion because I tell you aboutthings that are not funny, but if you ever traveled abroad you will findthat there is no fun anywhere except in America unless you make it orbuy it. 

We are taking in the solemn things first in order to get dad's mind in acondition so he can be cured of things he thinks ail him. I took dad tothe Tower of London, and when we got out of it he wanted to have Americainterfere and have the confounded place burned down and grass sown onthe site and a park made of it. 

The tower covers 13 acres of ground, and there are more things broughtto a visitor's attention that ought to be forgotten than you everthought about. 

I remember attending the theater at home and seeing Richard the Thirdplayed, and I remember how my sympathies were aroused for the two littleboy princes that were murdered by Richard the Third, but I thought itwas a fake play, and that there was nothing true about it, but, by gosh, it was right here in the Tower of London that the old hump-backed cussmurdered those little princes, and dad and I stood right on the spot, and the beef-eater who showed us around told us all the particulars. Dadwas indignant, and said to the beef-eater:

[Illustration: Stood around and let Richard kill those princes 098]

"Do you mean to tell me you stood around and let Richard kill thoseprinces without uttering a protest or protecting them or ringing forthe police? By the great hornspoon, you must have been accessory to thefact, and you ought to be arrested and hung, " and dad pounded his caneon the stone floor and looked savage. 

The beef-eater got red in the face and said: "Begging your pardon, don'tyou know, but h'l was not 'ere at the time. This 'istory was made six'undred years ago. "

Dad begged the man's pardon and told him he supposed the boys weremurdered a year or two ago, and he gave the beef-eater a dollar, and hewas so gratified I think he would have had a murder committed for dadright there and then if dad had insisted on it. 

You feel in going through the tower like you was in an Americanslaughter house, for it was here that kings and queens were beheadedby the dozen. They showed us axes that were used to behead people, andblocks that the heads of the victims were laid on, and the places wherethe heads fell on the floor. It seemed that in olden times when a kingor a queen got too gay, the anti-kings or queens would go to the palaceand catch the king or queen in the act, and take them by the neck andhustle them to the tower, and when a king or queen got in the tower theywent out on the installment plan, and after being thrown in the gutterfor the mob to recognize, and walk on the bodies, they would bringthem back in the tower, and seal them up in a pigeon hole for futuregenerations to cry over. 

All my life I have had in our house to look at a picture of beautifulAnne Boleyn, and here I stood right where her head was cut off, and Icouldn't help thinking of how we in America got our civilization fromthe descendants of the English people who cut her head off. 

By ginger, old chum, it made me hot. I didn't care to look at the oldarmor, or the crown jewels, which make you think of a cut glass factory, but I reveled in the scenes of the beheading. I never was stuck muchon kings and queens, but it seems to me if they had to murder them theyought to have given 'em a show, and let them fight for their lives, instead of getting into a trap, like you would entice a rat with cheese, and then cut their heads off. 

I suppose it is right here that we inherited the desire to lynch andburn at the stake the negroes that commit crime and won't confess athome. When anything is born in the blood you can't get rid of it withouttaking a dose of patriotism and purifying the blood, and I advise younever to visit the Tower of London, unless you want to feel like goingout and killing some one that is tied up with a rope. 

Hearing of these murders and seeing the place where they were committeddoes not give you an idea of fair play and you don't feel like takingsome one of your size when you fight, but you get to thinking that ifyou could catch a cripple who couldn't defend himself you would like totake a baseball club and maul the stuffing out of him. You become imbuedwith the idea that if you went to war you would not want to stand upand fight fair, but that you would like to get your enemy in a bunchand drop dynamite down on him from a balloon, and kill all in sight, andsail away with an insane laugh. 

Gee, but another day in this tower, and I would want to go home andmurder ma, or the neighbors. 

The only thing we have got in America that compares with the Tower ofLondon and its associates is the Leutgert sausage factory in Chicago, where Leutgert got his wife into the factory, murdered her, and isalleged to have cut her up in pieces and made sausage of the meat, giventhe pieces with gristle in to his dogs, boiled the bones until theywould run into the sewer, dissolved the remnants in concentrated lye, and sold the sausage to the lumber Jacks in the pine woods. 

I expect Chicago will buy that sausage factory and make a show of it, asLondon does the tower, and you can go and see it, and feel that you areas full of modern history as I am of ancient history, here in London. 

I could see that dad was getting nervous every time a new beheadingwas described to us, and I thought it was time to wake him up. In goingthrough the room where the old armor was displayed the beef eater toldus who wore the different pieces of armor, and he said at times thespirit of the dead came back to the tower and occupied the armor, andI noticed that dad shied at some of the pieces of armor, so when we gotright into the midst of it, and there was armor on every side, and dadand the beef eater were ahead of me, and dad was walking fast in orderto get out quick, I pushed over one of the pieces, and it went crashingto the floor and the noise was like a boiler factory exploding, and thedust of centuries rose up, and the noise echoed down the halls. 

Well, you'd a died to see dad and the beef eater. Dad turned pale andgot down on his knees, and I think he began to pray, if he knows how, and he trembled like a leaf, and the beef eater got behind a set ofarmor that Cromwell or some old duck used to wear, and said, "Wot inthe bloody 'ell is the matter with the h'armor?" and then a lot of otherbeef eaters came, and they thought dad was the spirit of King John, andthey stampeded, and finally I got dad to stop praying, or whatever itwas that he was doing, and I led him out, and when he got into the openair he recovered and said. "'Ennery, 'hi have got to get out of Lunnon, don't you know, because me 'eart is palpitating, " and we went back tothe 'otel, to see if our invitation to visit King Hedward had arrived. 

[Illustration: Beefeater's stampede 107]

Say, we are getting so we talk just like English coachmen, and you won'thundredstand us when we get 'ome. Yours, with a haccent. 

'Ennery. 

CHAPTER IX. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Call on King Edward and Almost Settle the Irish Question. 

London, H-england. --Dear Uncle Ezra: The worst is over, and dad and Ihave both touched a king. Not the way you think, touching a king for ahand-out, or borrowing his loose change, the way you used to touch dadwhen you had to pay for your goods, but just taking hold of his hand andshaking it in good old United States fashion. 

The American minister arranged it for us. He told somebody that Peck'sBad Boy and his dad were in town, and just wanted to size up a king andsee how he averaged up with United States politicians, and the king setan hour for us to call. 

Well, you'd a dide to see dad fix up. Everybody said, when we showed ourcard at the hotel, notifying us that we were expected at Marlboro Houseat such a time, that we would be expected to put on plenty of dog. Thatis what an American from Kalamazoo, who sells breakfast food, said, and the hotel people said we would be obliged to wear knee breechesand dancing pumps and silk socks, and all that kind of rot, and men'sfurnishers began to call upon us to take our measure for clothes, butwhen they told us how much it would cost, dad kicked. He said he hada golf suit he had made in Oshkosh at the time of the tournament, thatevery one in Oshkosh said was out of sight, and was good enough forany king, and so he rigged up in it, and I hired a suit at a masqueradeplace, and dad hired a coat, kind of red, to go with his golf pants andsocks, and he wore canvas tennis shoes. 

[Illustration: Suit he had made in Oshkosh 111]

I looked like a picture out of a fourteenth century book, but dad lookedlike a clown in a circus. One of dad's calves made him look as though hehad a milk leg, cause the padding would not stay around where the calfought to be, but worked around towards his shin. We went to MarlboroHouse in a hansom cab, and all the way there the driver kept lookingdown from the hurricane deck, through the scuttle hole, to see if wewere there yet, and he must have talked with other cab drivers in signlanguage about us, for every driver kept along with us, looked at us andlaughed, as though we were a wild west show. 

On the way to the king's residence it was all I could do to keep dadbraced up to go through the ordeal. He was brave enough before we gotthe invitation, and told what he was going to say to the king, and youwould think he wasn't afraid of anybody, but when we got nearer to thehouse and dad thought of going up to the throne and seeing a king in allhis glory, surrounded by his hundreds of lords and dukes and things, acrown on his head, and an ermine cloak trimmed with red velvet, and asix-quart milk pan full of diamonds, some of them as big as a chunk ofalum, dad weakened, and wanted to give the whole thing up and go to amatinee, but I wouldn't have it, and told him if he didn't get into theking row now that I would shake him right there in London and start inbusiness as a Claude Duval highwayman and hold up stage coaches, andbe hung on Tyburn Tree, as I used to read about in my history ofSixteen-String Jack and other English highwaymen. Dad didn't want to seethe family disgraced, so he let the cabman drive on, but he said ifwe got out of this visit to royalty alive, it was the last tommyrot hewould indulge in. 

Well, old man, it is like having an operation for appendicitis, you feelbetter when you come out from under the influence of the chloroform andthe doctor shows you what they took out of you, and you feel that youare going to live, unless you grow another vermiform appendix. We weredriven into a sort of Central park, and up to a building that was bigas a lot of exposition buildings, and the servants took us in charge andwalked us through long rooms covered with pictures as big as side showpictures at a circus, but instead of snake charmers and snakes and wildmen of Borneo and sword swallowers, the king's pictures were about war, and women without much clothes on from the belt up. Gosh, but some ofthose pictures made you think you could hear the roar of battle andsmell gun powder, and dad acted as though he wanted to git right down onthe marble floor and dig a rifle pit big enough to git into. 

They walked us around like they do when you are being initiated into asecret society, only they didn't sing, "Here comes the Lobster, " and hityou with a dried bladder. The servants that were conducting us laffed. I had never seen an Englishman laff before, and it was the mostinteresting thing I saw in London. Most Englishmen look sorry aboutsomething, as though some dear friend died every day, and their facesseem to have grown that way. So when they laff it seems as though thewrinkles would stay there, unless they treated their faces with massage. They were laughing at dad's dislocated calf, and his scared appearance, as though he was going to receive the thirty-second degree, and didn'tknow whether they were going to throw him over a precipice or pull himup to the roof by the hind legs. We passed a big hall clock, and itstruck just when we were near it, and of all the "Hark, from the tombs"sounds I ever heard, that clock took the cake. Dad thought it soundedlike a death knell, and he would have welcomed the turning in of a firealarm as a sound that meant life everlasting, beside that doleful sound. 

After we had marched about three mile heats, and passed the chairs ofthe noble grand and the senior warden, and the exalted ruler, we came toa bronze door as big as the gate to a cemetery, and the grand conductorgave us a few instructions about how to back out fifteen feet from thepresence of the king, when we were dismissed, and then he turned us overto a little man who was a grand chambermaid, I understood the fellowto say. The door opened, and we went in, and dad's misplaced calf waswobbling as though he had locomotor attacks-ye. 

Well, there were a dozen or so fellows standing around, and they all hadon some kind of uniforms, with gold badges on their breasts, and in themidst of them was a little, sawed-off fat fellow, not taller than fivefeet six, but a perfect picture of the cigar advertisements of Americafor a cigar named after the king. I expected to see a king as big asLong John Wentworth of Chicago, a great big fellow that could take asmall man by the collar and throw him over a house, and I felt hurt atthe small size of the king of Great Britain, but, gosh, he is just likea Yankee, when you get the formality shook off. 

We bowed and dad made a courtesy like an old woman, and the king cameforward with a smile that ought to be imitated by every Englishman. Theyall imitate his clothes and his hats and his shoes, but he seems to bethe only Englishman that smiles. Maybe it is patented, and nobody has aright to smile without paying a royalty, but the good-natured smile ofKing Edward is worth more than stomach bitters, and the English oughtto be allowed to copy it. There is no more solemn thing than a party ofEnglishmen together in America, unless it is a party of speculatorsthat are short on wheat, or a gathering of defeated politicians when theelection returns come in. But the king is as jolly as though he had nota note coming due at the bank, and you would think he was a good, commoncitizen, after working hours, at a round beer table, with two schoonerloads in the hold and another schooner on the way, frothing over the topof the stein. That is the feeling I had for the king when he came upto us and greeted dad as the father of the bad boy and patted me on theshoulder and said: "And so you are the boy that has made more troublethan any boy in the world, and had more fun than anybody, and madethem all stand around and wonder what was coming next. You're a wonder. Strange the American people never thought of killing you. " I saidyessir, and tried to look innocent, and then the king told dad to sitdown, and for me to come and stand by his knee, and by ginger, whenhe patted me on the cheek, and his soft hand squeezed my hand, and helooked into my eyes with the most winning expression, I did not wonderthat all the women were in love with him, and that all Englishmen woulddie for him. 

He asked dad all about America, its institutions, the president, andeverything, and dad was just so flustered that he couldn't say much, until the king said something about the war between the States, in whichthe southern states achieved a victory. I don't know whether the kingsaid that just to wake dad up, 'cause dad had a grand army button on hiscoat, but dad choked up a little, and then began to explode, a little ata time, like a bunch of firecrackers, and finally he went off all in abunch. Dad said: "Look a here, Mr. King, some one has got you all balledup about that war. I know, because I was in it, and now the north andthe south are United, and can whip any country that wants to fight achampion, and will go out and get a reputation, by gosh!"

The king laughed at touching dad off, and asked dad what was the matterof America and Great Britain getting together and making all nationsknow when they had better keep their places, and quit talking aboutfighting. Dad said he never would consent to America and Great Britaingetting together to fight any country until Ireland got justice andwas ready to come into camp on an equality, and the king said he wouldanswer for the Irishmen of Ireland if dad would pledge the Irishmen ofAmerica, 'cause we had about as many Irishmen in America as he had inIreland, and dad said if the king would give Ireland what she asked for, he would see that the Irishmen in America would sing God Save the King. 

[Illustration: Settling the Irish question 115]

I guess dad and the king would have settled the Irish question inabout fifteen minutes, and signed a treaty, only a servant brought in atwo-quart bottle of champagne, and dad and the king hadn't drank a quartapiece before dad started to sing "My Country Tis of Thee, Sweet Landof Libertee, " and the king sang "God Save the King, " and, by thunder, itwas the same tune, and tears came into dad's eyes, and the king took outhis handkerchief and wiped his nose, and I bellered right out, and theking rose and offered a toast to America and everybody in it, and theyswallered it, and dad said there was enough juice left in the bottlefor one more round, and he proposed a toast to all the people of GreatBritain, including the Irish and the king who loved them, and down shewent, and they were standing up. And I told dad it was time to go. 

[Illustration: God save the king 119]

Say, it was great, Uncle Ezra, and I wish you could have been there, andthere had been another bottle. The only thing that happened to marthe reunion of dad and the king was when we were going out backwards, bowing. There was a little hassock back of me, and I kicked it back ofdad, and when dad's heels struck it he went over backwards and struckon his golf pants, and dad said: "El, 'Ennery, I'ave broken my bloominkback, but who cares, " and when the servants picked dad up and took himout in the hall and marched us to the entrance, dad got in the cab, gavethe grand hailing sign of distress, started to sing God save somethingor other, and went to sleep in the cab, and I took him to the hotel. 

Yours, Hennery. 

[Illustration: He went over backwards 121]

CHAPTER X. 

 The Bad Boy Writes of Ancient and Modern Highwaymen--They Get a Taste of High Life in London and Dad Tells the Story of the Picklemaker's Daughter. 

London, England. --My Dear Old Skate: Well, if we are going to see any ofthe other countries on this side of the water before our return ticketexpires, we have got to be getting a move on, and dad says in abouta week we will be doing stunts in Paris that will bring about arevolution, and wind up the republic of France, and seat some nine-spoton the throne that Napoleon used to wear out his buckskin pants on. 

Dad asked me tother day what I cared most to see in London, and I toldhim I wanted to visit Newgate prison, and the places made famous by thebold highwaymen of a century or two ago. He thought I was daffy, butwhen I told him how I had read "Claude Duval" and "Six-teen-String Jack"and all the highway literature, in the haymow, when dad thought I wasweeding the garden, he confessed that he used to hunt those yellowcovered books out of the manger when I was not reading them, and thathe had read them all himself, when I thought he was studying for hiscampaign speeches, and so he said he would go with me. So we visitedHomestead Heath, where Claude Duval used to ride "Black Bess, " and holdup people who traveled at night in post chaises, and we found splendidspots where there had been more highway robbery going on than any placeeast of Missouri, but I was disgusted when I thought what chumps thoseold highway robbers were, compared to the American highway robbers andhold up men of the present day. 

In Claude Duval's time he had a brace of flintlock pistols, which he hadto examine the priming every time a victim showed up, and while hewas polite when he robbed a duchess, he used to kill people all right, though if they had had cameras at that time the flash from the primingpan would have taken a flash-light picture of the robber, so he couldhave been identified when he rode off in the night to a roadside inn andfilled up on beer, while he counted the ten shillings he had taken fromthe silk purse of the victim. Why, one of our American gangs that holdup a train, and get an express safe full of greenbacks, and shoots upa mess of railroad hands and passengers with Winchesters and automaticpistols, and blows up cars with dynamite and gets away and has to havea bookkeeper and a cashier to keep their bank accounts straight, couldgive those old Claude Duvals and Sixteen-String Jacks cards and spades. 

But civilization, dad says, has done much for the highway robberybusiness, and he says we in America have arrived at absolute perfection. However, I was much interested in looking over the ground where my firstheroes lived and died, and did business, and when we went to the prisonswhere they were confined, and were shown where Tyburn Tree stood, thatso many of them were hung on, tears came to my eyes at the thought thatI was on the sacred ground where my heroes croaked, and went to theirdeaths with smiles on their faces, and polite to the last. The guard whoshowed us around thought that dad and I were relatives of the deceasedhighwaymen, and when we went away he said to dad: "Call again, Mr. Duval. Always glad to serve any of the descendants of the heroes. Whatline of robbery are you in, Mr. Duval?" Dad was mad, but he toldthe guard he was now on the stock exchange, and so we maintained thereputation of the family. 

[Illustration: Glad to serve any of the descendants of the heroes 126]

Then we hired horses and took a horse back ride through Rotten Row, where everybody in London that has the price, rides a horse, and nocarriages are allowed. Dad was an old cavalry man forty years ago, and he is stuck on his shape when he is on a horse, but he came nearbreaking up the horse back parade the day we went for the ride. Theliveryman gave us two bob-tailed nags, a big one for dad and a small onefor me, but they didn't have any army saddle for dad, and he had to rideon one of these little English saddles, such as jockeys ride races on, and dad is so big where he sits on a saddle that you couldn't see thesaddle, and I guess they gave dad a hurdle jumper, because when we gotright amongst the riders, men and women, his horse began to act up, andsome one yelled, "Tally-ho, " and that is something about fox hunting, not a coach, and the horse jumped a fence and dad rolled off over thebowsprit and went into a ditch of dirty water. 

[Illustration: Dad rolled off over the bowsprit 128]

The horse went off across a field, and the policeman fished dad out ofthe ditch, and run him through a clothes wringer or something, and gothim dried out, and sent him to the hotel in an express wagon, and I rodemy horse back to the liveryman and told him what happened to dad, andthey locked me up in a box stall until somebody found the horse, 'causethey thought dad was a horse thief, and they held me for ransom. But dadcame around before night and paid my ransom, and we were released. Dadsays Rotten Row is rotten, all right enough, and by ginger it is, 'causehe has not got the smell of that ditch off his clothes yet. 

Now he has got a new idea, and that is to go to some country where thereare bandits, different from the bandits here in London, and be capturedand taken to the mountain fastnesses, and held for ransom until ourgovernment makes a fuss about it, and sends warships after-us. I telldad it would be just our luck to have our government fail to try to getus, and the bandits might cut our heads off and stick them on a poleas a warning to people not to travel unless they had a ransom concealedabout their clothes. But dad says he is out to see all the sights, andhe is going to be ransomed before he gets home, if it takes every dollarour government has got. I think he is going to work the bandit racketwhen we get to Turkey, but, by ginger, he can leave me at a convent, because I don't want one of those crooked sabers run into me and turnedaround like a corkscrew. Dad says I can stay in a harem while he goes tothe mountains with the bandits, and I don't know as I care, as they saya harem is the most interesting place in Turkey. You know the pictureswe have studied in the old grocery, where a whole bunch of beautifulwomen are practicing using soap in a marble bath. 

Well, don't you say anything to ma about it, but dad has got his footin it clear up to the top button. It isn't anything scandalous, thoughthere is a woman at the bottom of it. You see, we used to know a girlthat left home to go out into the world and earn her own living. Sheelocuted some at private parties and sanitariums, to entertain peoplethat were daffy, and were on the verge of getting permanent bats intheir belfry, and after a few years she got on the stage, and madea bunch of money, and went abroad. And then she had married a titledperson, and everybody supposed she was a duchess, or a countess, and mawanted us to inquire about her when we got over here. Ma didn't want usto go and hunt her up to board with her, or anything, but just to geta glimpse of high life, and see if our poor little friend was doingherself proud in her new station in life. 

[Illustration: Isn't money enough in the whole family to wad a gun 131]

Gee, but dad found her, and she ain't any more of a duchess than I am. Her husband is a younger son of a titled person, but there isn't moneyenough in the whole family to wad a gun, and our poor girl is working ina shop, or store, selling corsets to support a lazy, drunken husband anda whole mess of children, and while she is seven removes from a duchess, she does not rank with the woman who washes her mother's clothes athome. Gosh, but dad was hot when he found her, and after she told himabout her situation in life he gave her a yellow-backed fifty-dollarbill, and came back to the hotel mad, and wanted to pack up and gosomewhere else, where he didn't know any titled-persons. 

That night a couple of dukes came around to the hotel to sell dad somestock in a diamond mine in South Africa, and they got to talking abouthow English society held over our crude American society, until dad gotan addition to the mad he had when he called on our girl, and when oneof the dukes said America was being helped socially by the marriageof American women to titled persons, dad got a hot box, like a stalledfreight train. 

Says dad, says he: "You Johnnies are a lot of confidence men, who liveonly to rope in rich American girls, so you can marry them and havetheir dads lift the mortgages on your ancestral estates, and put on tinroofs in place of the mortgages, 'cause a mortgage will not shed rain, and you get their money and spend it on other women. " One of the dukesturned red like a lobster, and I think he is a lobster, anyway, and hewas going to make dad stop talking, but the duke didn't know dad, and hecontinued. Says dad, says he: "I know a rich old man in the States, whomade ten million dollars on pickles, or breakfast food, and he had adaughter that was so homely they couldn't keep a clock going in thehouse. 

"She came over here and got exposed to a duke, and she had never beenvaccinated, and the first her father knew she caught the duke, and came;home, and he followed her. Say, he didn't know enough to pound sand, andthe old man got several doctors for her, but they couldn't break up theduke fever, and finally the old pickle citizen asked him how much themortgage was, and how much they could live on, and he bought her theduke, and sent them off, and the duke covered his castle with buildingpaper, so it would hold water, and they set up housekeeping with ahundred servants. Then the duke wanted a racing stable, after the babycame, and the old pickle man went over to see the baby, and it lookedso much like the old man that he invested in a racing stable, and theservants bowed low to the old man and called him 'Your 'ighness, 'and that settled the old pickle person, and he fell into the trap ofbuilding a townhouse in London. 

"Then he went home and made some more pickles, and the daughter cabledhim to come right over, as they had been invited to entertain the kingand a lot of other face cards in the pack. And the old man thought itwould be great to get in the king row himself, so he shoveled a lot ofbig bills into some packing trunks and went over to fix up for the king. The castle had to be redecorated for about six miles, up one corridorand down the other, but Old Pickles stood the raise, because he thoughtit would be worth the money to be on terms of intimacy with a king. 

"Then when it was all ready, and the old man was going to stand at thefront door and welcome the king, they made him go to his room, backabout a half a mile in the rear of the castle, and for two weeks oldPickles had his meals brought to his room, and when it was over, andhis sentence had expired, he was let out, and all he saw of the grandentertainment to the crowned heads was a ravine full of empty winebottles, a case of jimjams for a son-in-law, a case of nervousprostration for a daughter, and hydrophobia for himself. My old picklefriend has got, at this date, three million good pickle dollars investedin your d--d island, and all he has to show for it is a sick daughter, neglected by a featherhead of a husband, who will only speak to oldpickles when he wants more money, and a grandchild that may die teethingat any time. You are a nice lot of ducks to talk to me about yourEnglish society being better than our American civilization. You get, "and dad drove the dukes out. 

[Illustration: Dad drove the dukes out 135]

I think they are going to have dad arrested for treason. But don't tellma, 'cause she may think treason serious. 

Yours, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XI. 

 The Bay Boy Writes About Paris--Tells About the Trip Across the English Channel--Dad Feeds a Dog and Gets Arrested. 

Paris, France. --My Dear Uncle Ezra: Dad is in an awful state here, and Ido not know what to do with him. We struck this town all in a heap, andthe people seemed to be paralyzed so they couldn't speak, except to makemotions and make noises that we could not interpret. This is thefirst time dad and I have been in a place where nobody understood ourlanguage. Ordinarily we would take pleasure in teaching people to speakthe English language, but in coming across the English channel dad andI both got something we never got on the water before. Ordinaryseasickness is only an incident, that makes you wish you were dead--justtemporary, but when it wears off you can enjoy your religion andvictuals as well as ever, but the seasickness that the English channelgives you is a permanent investment, like government bonds that you cutcoupons off of. I 'spect we shall be sick always now, and worse everyother day, like chills and fever. 

Say, a boat on the English channel does not roll, or pitch, atintervals, like a boat on ordinary water, but it does stunts like abroncho that has been poisoned by eating loco-weeds, and goes into theair and dives down under, and shakes itself like a black bass with ahook in its mouth, and rolls over like a trained dog, and sits up on itshind legs and begs, and then walks on its fore paws, and seems to jumpthrough hoops, and dig for woodchucks, and all the time the water boilslike 'pollinarius, full of bubbles, and it gives you the hiccups to lookat it, and it flows every way at the same time, and the wind comes fromthe fourteen quarters at once, and blows hot if you are too hot and wanta cool breeze, and if you are too cold, and want a warm breeze to keepyou alive, it comes right from the north pole, and you just perish inyour tracks. 

Gee, but it is awful. When you get seasick on an ordinary ocean, youknow where to locate the disease, and you know where to go for relief, and when you have got relieved you know that you are alive, but anEnglish channel seasickness is as different from any other as analcohol jag is different from a champagne drunk. This English channelseasickness begins on your toes, and you feel as though the toenailswere being pulled out with pincers, and the veins in your legs seem toexplode, your arms wilt like lettuce in front of a cheap grocery, yourhead seems to be struck with a pile-driver and telescoped down into yourspine, and your stomach feels as though you had swallowed a telephonepole with all of the cross arms and wires and glass insulators, and youwish lightning would strike you. Gosh, but dad was hot when he foundthat he was sick that way, and when we got ashore he wanted to kill thefirst man he met. 

He thinks that it is a crime for a man not to understand the Englishlanguage, and when he tells what he wants, and the man he is talking toshrugs his shoulders and laughs, and brings him something else, he wantsto pull his gun and begin to shoot up the town, and only for me he wouldhave killed people before this, but now he takes it out in scowling atpeople who do not understand him. Dad seems to think that if he cannotmake a man understand what he says, all he has to do is to swear at theman, but there is no universal language of profanity, so the more dadswears the more the nervous Frenchman smiles, and acts polite. 

I think the French people are the politest folks I ever knew. If aFrenchman had to kick a person out of doors, he would wear a feltslipper, and after he had kicked you he would place his hand on hisheart, and bow, and look so sorry, and hurt, that you would want to givehim a tip. 

O, but this tipping business is what is breaking dad's heart. I thinkif the servants would arrange a syndicate to rob dad of two or three dollars a day, by pocket picking, or sneak thieving, he would overlookit, and say that as long as it was one of the customs of the countrywe should have to submit to it, but when he has paid his bill, witheverything charged extra, and the servants line up and look appealingly, or mad, as the case may be, dad is the hardest man to loosen that everwas, but if they seem to look the other way, and not, apparently, carewhether they get a cent or not, dad would go and hunt them up, anddivide his roll with them. Dad is not what you would call a "tight wad, "if you let him shed his money normally, when he feels the looseningcoming on, but you try to work him by bowing and cringing, and hisAmerican spirit gets the better of him, and he looks upon the servant aspretty low down. I have told him that the tipping habit is just as badin America as in France, but he says in America the servant acts asthough he never had such a thought as getting a tip, and when you givehim a quarter or other tip he looks puzzled, as though he did not justrecall what he had done to merit such treatment, but finally puts themoney in his pocket with an air as though he would accept it in trust, to be given to some deserving person at the first opportunity, and thenhe smiles, and gets away, and blows in the tip for something wet andstrong. 

I told dad if he would just ignore the servants, as though he did notunderstand that they expected a tip, that he would be all right, so whenwe got ready to move from the hotel to private rooms dad never gave anyservant a tip. Well, I don't know what the servants did to our baggage, but they must have marked it with a smallpox sign, or something, fornobody would touch it for several hours, but finally a baggage man tookit and started for our apartments, and got lost and didn't show up fortwo days, and when it was finally landed on the sidewalk nobody wouldcarry it upstairs, and dad and I had to lug it up two flights, and Ithought dad would have apoplexy. 

[Illustration: Coughs up a tip every time 143]

We found a guide who could talk New Orleans English and he said it wouldcost three dollars to square it with the servants at the hotel, and havethe boycott removed from our baggage, and dad paid it, and now he coughsup a tip every time he sees a servant look at him. He pays when he goesin a restaurant and when he comes out, and says he is cured of trying toreform the customs of anybody else's country. 

We have engaged a guide to stay with us day and night. The guide tookus out for a bat last night, and dad had the time of his life. Dad hasdrank a good deal of spiritous and malt liquors in his time, but I don'tthink he ever indulged much in champagne at three or four dollars abottle at home. Maybe he has been saving himself up till he got overhere, where champagne is cheap and it takes several quarts to make yousee angels. The guide took us to one of these bullyvards, where thereare tables out on the sidewalk, and you can eat and drink and look atthe dukes and counts and dutchesses and things promenading up and down, flirting like sin, and we sat down to a table and ordered things to eatand drink, and dad looked like Uncle Sam, and felt his oats. 

[Illustration: A tone of voice that meant trouble 138]

When he had drank a few thimblefuls of absinthe, and some champagne, andeat a plateful of frogs, he was just ripe for trouble. A woman and a manat an adjoining table had one of these white dogs that is sheared likea hedge fence, with spots of long hair left on in places, and dad coaxedthe dog over to our table and began to feed him frogs' legs, and thewoman began to talk French out loud, and look cross at dad, and thecount that was with her came over to our table and looked at dad ina tone of voice that meant trouble, and said something sassy, and theguide said the man wanted to fight a duel because dad had contaminatedthe woman's dog, and dad got mad and offered to wipe out the wholeplace, and he got up with a champagne bottle and looked defiance at thecount, and the waiters began to scatter, when the woman came up to dadand begged him not to hurt the count, and as she spoke broken Englishdad could understand her, and she looked so beautiful, and her eyes werefilled with tears, and dad relented and said: "Don't cry, dear, I won'thurt the little runt. " She was so glad dad was not going to kill thecount that she threw herself into his arms and thanked dear Americafor producing such a grand citizen, such a brave man as dad, who couldforego the pleasure of killing a poor, weak man who had insulted him, particularly as dad's wild Indian ancestry made it hard for him torefrain from blood. 

[Illustration: I won't hurt the little runt 145]

Well, dad's face was a study, as he braced up and held that 150 poundsof white meat in his arms, with all the people looking on, and he seemedproud and heroic, and he stroked her hair and told her not to worry, andfinally she hied herself away from dad and the count took her away, and they went up the bullyvard, and after all was quiet again dad said:"Hennery, let this be a lesson to you. When you are tempted to commit arash act and avenge an insult in blood, stop and think of the sorrow andshame that will come to you if you draw your gun too quick, and have awidow on your hands as the result. Suppose I had killed that shrimp, theface of his widow would have haunted me always, and I would have wantedto die. Don't ever kill anybody, my boy, if you can settle a dispute byshaking the dice. "

Well, dad ordered some more wine, and as he drank it, he allowedthe populace to admire him and say things about the great Americanmillionaire, who spent money like water and was too brave to fight. Thendad called for his check to pay his bill, and when he felt in his pocketfor his roll of bills, he hadn't a nickel and the woman, when she was inhis arms, weeding with one hand, had gone through dad's pockets with theother. Dad felt for his watch, to see what time it was, and his watchwas gone, and the waiter was waiting for the money and dad tried toexplain that he had been buncoed, and the head waiter came and begun toact sassy, and then they called a policeman to stay by us till the moneywas produced, and everybody at the other tables laughed, and dad turnedblue, and I thought he would have a fit. Finally, the guide began totalk, and the result was that a policeman went home with us, and dadfound money enough to pay the bill, but he talked language that causedthe landlady to ask us to find a new place. 

[Illustration: Tried to explain that he had been buncoed 148]

The next morning the guide showed up with an officer who had a warrantfor dad for hugging a woman in a public cafe, and it seemed as though wewere in for it, but the guide said he could settle the whole businessby paying the officer $20, and dad paid it and I think the guide and theofficer divided the money. Say, this is the greatest town we have struckyet for excitement, and I guess dad will not have a chance to think ofhis sickness. 

This morning we went into a big department store, and, by gosh! wefound the count that dad was going to fight was a floor-walker, andthe countess was behind a counter selling soap. When dad saw the countleering at him, he put his hand on his pistol pocket and yelled aregular cowboy yell, and the count rushed down into the basement, thesoap countess fainted, and the police took dad to the police station, and all day the guide and I have been trying to get him out on bail. If we get dad out of this we are going to put a muzzle on him. Well, ifanyone asks you if I am having much of a time abroad, you can tell themthe particulars. 

P. S. --We got dad out for $20 and costs, and he says he will blow Parisup before night. We are going up to the top of the Eiffel tower thisafternoon, to count our money, as dad dasscnt take out his pocketbookanywhere on the ground for fear of being robbed. 

Yours full of frogs. 

Hennery. 

CHAPTER XII. 

 The Bad Boy's Second Letter from Paris--Dad Poses as a Mormon Bishop and Has to Be Rescued--They Climb the Eiffel Tower and the Old Man Gets Converted. 

Paris, France. --Old Pardner in Crime: I got your letter, telling meabout the political campaign that is raging at home, and when I read itto dad he wanted to go right out and fill up on campaign whisky and yellfor his presidential candidate, but he couldn't find any whisky, so hehas not tried to carry any precincts of Paris for our standard-bearer. 

There is something queer about the liquor here. There is no regularcampaign beverage. At home you can select a drink that is appropriatefor any stage of a campaign. When the nominations are first made you arenot excited and beer and cheese sandwiches seem to fit the case A littlelater, when the orators begin to come out into the open and shake theirhair, you take cocktails and your eyes begin to resemble those of acaged rat, and you are ready to quarrel with an opponent. The next stagein the campaign is the whisky stage, and when you have got plenty of itthe campaign may be said to be open, and you wear black eyes and loseyour teeth, and you swear strange oaths and smell of kerosene, and onlysleep in the morning. Then election comes and if your side wins youdrink all kinds of things at once for a week, shout hoarsely and thengo to the Keeley cure, but if your party loses you stay home and take acourse of treatment for nervous prostration and say you will never mixup in another campaign. 

Here in France it is different. The people have nervous prostration tostart on, start a campaign on champagne, wind up on absinthe, and afterthe votes are counted go to an insane asylum. I do not know what firstgot dad to drink absinthe and I don't know what it is, but it looks likesoap suds, tastes like seed cookies and smells like vermifuge. But itgets there just the same and the result of drinking it is about the sameas the result of drinking anything in France--it makes you want to hugsomebody. 

At home when a man gets full of whisky, he wants to hug the man hedrinks with and weep on his collar, and then hit him on the head witha bottle; but here every kind of drink puts the drinker in condition towant to hug. Dad says he never knew he had a brain until he learned todrink absinthe, but now he can close his eyes and see things worse thanany mince pie nightmare, and when we go out among people he never seesa man at all, but when a woman passes along, dad's eyes begin to taketurns winking at them and it is all I can do to keep him from proposingmarriage to every woman he sees. 

[Illustration: Badge on dad's breast, with the word "Bishop" 153]

I thought I would break him of this woman foolishness, so I toldeverybody dad was a Mormon bishop, and had a grand palace at Salt LakeCity, and owned millions of gold mines and tabernacles and wanted tomarry a thousand women and take them to Utah and place them at the headof homes of their own, and he would just call once or twice a week andleave bags of gold for his wives to spend. A newspaper reporter, thatcould talk English, wrote a piece for a paper about dad wanting to marrya whole lot and he said life in Utah was better than a Turkish harem, cause the wives of a Mormon bishop did not have to be locked up andwatched by unix, but could flirt and blow in money and go out to dancesand have just as much fun as though they lived in Newport, and had gotdivorces from millionaires, and he said any woman who wanted to marry aMormon bishop could meet dad on the bullyvard near a certain monument, on a certain day. I was on to it, with the reporter, and we hired acarriage and went to the bullyvard, just at the time the newspaper saidand I put a big red badge on dad's breast, with the word "Bishop" on it, and dad had been drinking absinthe and he thought the badge was a kindof sign of nobility. Well, you'd adide to see the bunch of women thatwere there to meet dad. "What's the matter here?" said dad, as hesaw the crowd of women, looking like they were there in answer to anadvertisement for nurses. I told dad to stand up in the carriage, likeDowie does in Chicago, and hold out his hands and say: "Bless you, mychildren, " and when dad got up to bless them, the reporter and I got outof the carriage, and the reporter, which could talk French, said for allthe women who wanted to be Mormon wives to get into the carriage withthe bishop and be sealed for life. 

Well, sir, you'd a thought it was a remnant sale! More than a dozen gotinto the carriage with dad, and about 400 couldn't get in, but when thescared driver started up the horses, they all followed the carriage, andthen the mounted police surrounded the whole bunch and moved them offtowards the police station, and dad under the wagonload of females, eachone trying to get the nearest to him, so as to be his favorite wife. 

It got noised around that a foreign potent-ate had been arrested withhis whole harem for conduct unbecoming to a potent-ate, and so whenwe got to the jail dad had to be rescued from his wives, and they weredriven into a side street by the police, and dad was locked up to savehis life. The reporter and I went to the jail to get him out, but we hadto buy a new suit of clothes for him, as everything was torn off him inthe Mormon rush. 

[Illustration: Dad was a sight when we found him in jail 155]

Dad was a sight when we found him in jail, and he thought his boneswere broken, and he wanted to know what was the cause of his suddenpopularity with the fair sex, and I told him it all came from hislooking so confounded distinguished, and his flirting with women. Hesaid he would swear he never looked at one of those women in a tone ofvoice that would deceive a Sunday school teacher, and he felt as thoughhe was being misunderstood in France. We told him the only way to getout of jail was to say he was a crowned head from Oshkosh, travelingincog, and when he began to stand on his dignity and demand that amessenger be sent for the president of France, to apologize for thetreatment he had received, the jailer and police begged his pardon andwe dressed him up in his new clothes and got him out, and we went to theEiffel tower to get some fresh air. 

I suppose you have seen pictures of the Eiffel tower, on theadvertisements of breakfast food in your grocery, but you can formno idea of the height and magnificence of the tower by studyingadvertisements. You may think that the pictures you see of world eventson your cans of baked beans and maple syrup and soap, give you thebenefit of foreign travel, but it does not. You have got to see thereal thing or you are not fit to even talk about what you think you haveseen. You remember that Ferris wheel at the Chicago world's fair, andhow we thought it was the greatest thing ever made of steel, so highthat it made us dizzy to look to the top of it, and when we went upon the wheel we thought we could see the world, from Alaska to SouthAfrica, and we marveled at the work of man and prayed that we bepermitted to get down off that wheel alive, and not be spilled downthrough the rarified Chicago atmosphere and flattened on the pavement sothin we would have to be scraped up off the pavement with a case knife, like a buckwheat cake that sticks to the griddle. 

You remember, old man, how you cried when our sentence to ride in theFerris wheel expired, and the jailer of the wheel opened the cell andlet us out, and you said no one would ever get you to ride again onanything that you couldn't jump out of if it balked, or you got wheelsin your head and chunks of things came up to your Adam's apple andchoked you. Well, cross my heart, if that Ferris wheel, that looked sobig to us, would make a main spring for the Eiffel tower. The tower ishigher than a kite, and when you get near it and try to look up to thetop, you think it is a joke, and that really no one actually goes up tothe top of it. You see some flies up around the top of it, and when theguide tells you the flies crawling around there are men and women, youthink the guide has been drinking. 

[Illustration: Flies crawling around there are men and women 157]

But dad and I and the guide paid our money, got into an elevator andbegan to go up. After the thing had been going up awhile dad said hewouldn't go up more than a mile or so at first, and asked the man to lethim off at the 3, 000-foot level, but the elevator man said dad had gotto take all the degrees and dad said: "Let her went, " and after an houror so we got to the top. 

Gee! but I thought dad would fall dead right there, when he looked offat Paris and the world beyond. The flies we had seen at the top beforestarting had changed to human beings, all looking pale and scared, andthe human beings on the ground had changed into flies and bugs, for allyou could see of a man on the ground was his feet with a flattened plughat someway fastened on the ankles, and a woman looked like a spoonfulof raspberry jam dropped on the pavement, or a splash of current jellymoving on the ground in a mysterious way. I do not know as the Eiffeltower was intended to act as a Keeley cure, but of the 50 peoplewho went up with us, half of them were so full their back teeth werefloating, including dad and the guide, but when we got to the top andthey got a view of the awful height to which we had come, it seemed asthough every man got sober at once, and their tongues seemed to cleaveto the roof of their mouths. All they could do was to look off at thecity and the view in the distance, and choke up, and look sorry aboutsomething. 

I couldn't help thinking of what sort of a pulp a man would be if hefell off the top of the tower and struck a fat woman on the pavement, cause it seemed to me you couldn't tell which was fat woman and whichwas man. I never saw such a change in a man as there was in dad, afterhe got his second wind and got his voice working. He looked like a manwho had made up his mind to lead a different life and begin right there. 

[Illustration: He took out a five-dollar bill 159]

There was a Salvation Army man and woman in the crowd and dad went up tothem. He took out a five-dollar bill and put it in the tambourine of thelassie, and said to the man and woman: "Now, look a here, I want tojoin your church, and if you have got the facilities for giving me thedegrees, you can sign me as a Christian right now. I have been a badman, and never thought I needed the benefits of religious training, butsince I got up here, so near Heaven, in an elevator which I will bet $10will break and kill us all before we get down to Paris, I want you toprepare me for the hereafter quick. "

Some of the other fellows laughed at dad, and the Salvation Army peoplelooked as though dad was drunk, but he continued: "You can laugh and bejammed, but I'll never leave this place until I am a pious man, andyou Salvation Army people have got to enlist me in your army, for Iam scared plum to death. Go ahead and convert me, while we wait. " TheSalvation Army captain put his hand on dad's head, the girl held outthe tambourine for another contribution, and dad felt a sweet peace comeover him, and we went down in the elevator and took a hack to the hotel, and dad's lips worked as though in pain. 

H. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

 The Bad Boy's Dad and a Man from Dakota Frame Up a Scheme to Break the Bank, But They Go Broke--The Party in Trouble. 

Monte Carlo. --Dear Uncle: I blush to write the name, Monte Carlo, atthe head of a letter to anyone that is a Christian, or who believes inhonesty and decency, and earning a living by the sweat of one's brow, for this place is the limit. If I should write anybody a letter fromSouth Clark street, Chicago, the recipient would know I had gone wrong, and was located in the midst of a bad element, and the inference wouldbe that I was the worst fakir, robber, hold-up man or assassin in thebunch. 

The inference you must draw from the heading of this letter is that dadand I have taken all the degree of badness and are now winding upour career by taking the last degree, before passing in our chips andcommitting suicide. Do you know what this place is, old man? Monaco isa principality, about six miles square, ruled by a prince, and the wholebusiness of the country, for it is a "country" the same as though it hada king, is gambling. They have all the different kinds of gambling, fromchuck-a-luck at two bits to roulette at a million dollars a minute. Whatstarted dad to come to Monte Carlo is more than I know, unless it wasa new American he has got acquainted with, a fellow from North Dakota, that dad met at a sort of dance that he did not take me to. It seemsthere is a place in Paris where they go to see men and women dance--oneof those dances where they kick so high that their feet hit the gasfixtures. 

Well, all I know about it is that one Wednesday night dad said he feltas though it was his duty to go to prayer meeting, so he could say whenhe got home that in all the frivolities of a trip abroad, even in wickedParis, he never neglected his church duties. I never was stuck on goingto prayer meeting, so dad let me stay at the hotel and play pool withthe cash register boy in the barroom, and dad took a hymn book and wentout, looking pious as I ever saw him. 

[Illustration: Dance, like they had seen the people dance at the show164]

My, what a difference there was in dad in the morning. I woke up aboutdaylight, and dad came into the room with a strange man, with spinach onhis chin, and they began to dance, like they had seen the people danceat the show where they had passed the evening. They were undressed, except their underclothes, which wore these combination suits, so whena man gets into them he is sealed up like a bologna, and he has to havehelp when he wants to get out to take a bath, and he has to have anoutsider button him in with a button hook. Gee, I would rather be asausage and done with it! Well, dad and this man from Dakota kicked highuntil dad caught by the ankle on a gas bracket, and the strange man gotme up out of bed to help unloosen dad and get him down before he wasblack in the face. Finally we got dad down and then the two old codgersbegan to discuss a proposition to go to Monte Carlo to break the bank. 

[Illustration: A system of gambling 162]

The Dakota man agreed that Americans had no right to be spending theirown money doing Europe, when their genius was equal to the task ofacquiring the money of the less intelligent foreigners. He said theycould go to Monte Carlo and by a system of gambling which he had usedsuccessfully in the Black Hills they could carry away all the moneythey could pile into sacks. The man said he would guarantee to breakthe bank if dad would put his money against the Dakota man's experienceas a gambler, and they would divide the proceeds equally. Dad bit like abass. He said he had always had an element of adventure in his make-up, and had always liked to take chances, and from what he had heard ofthe fabulous sums won and lost at Monte Carlo he could see that if asyndicate could be formed that would win most of the time, he could seethat there was more money in it than in any manufacturing enterprise, and he was willing to finance the scheme. 

The Dakota man fairly hugged dad, and he told dad in confidence thatthey two could divide up money enough to make them richer than they everdreamed of, and all the morning they discussed the plan, and made alist of things they would need to get away with the money. They providedthemselves with canvas sacks to carry away the gold, and dad drew allhis money out of the bank, and that evening we took a train for MonteCarlo. All the way here dad and his new friend chuckled over thesensation they would make among the gamblers, and I became realinterested in the scheme. There was to be some fun besides the winningof the money, because they talked of going out in the park and on theterraces when they were tired of winning money, and seeing the poordevils who had gone broke commit suicide, as that is said to be one ofthe features of the place. 

[Illustration: Seeing the poor devils who had gone broke 166]

Well, we got a suite of rooms and the first day we looked over theplace, and ate free banquets and saw how the people dressed, and justlooked prosperous and showed money on the slightest provocation, andgot the hang of things. Dad was to go in the big gambling room in theafternoon with his pockets fairly dropsical with money, and the Dakotaman was to do the betting, and dad was to hold one of the canvas bags, and when it was full we were to take it to our room, and quit gamblingfor awhile, to give the bank a chance to raise more money. Dad insistedthat his partner should lose a small bet once in awhile, so the bankshould not get on to the fact that we had a cinch. 

After luncheon we entered the big gambling room, in full-dress suits, and, by gosh! it was like a king's reception. There were hundreds ofmen and women, dressed for a party, and it did not seem like a gamblinghell, except that there were, piles of gold as big as stoves, on allthe tables, and the guests were provided with silver rakes, with longhandles, to rake in the money. Dad said in a whisper to the Dakota man:"What is the use of taking the trouble to run a gold mine, and get alldirtied up digging dirty nuggets, when you can get nice, clean gold, allcoined, ready to spend, by betting right?" And then dad turned to meand he said; "Hennery, don't let the sight of this wealth make youavaricious. Don't be purse-proud when you find that your poor father, after years of struggle against adversity, and the machinations ofdesigning men, has got next to the Pierpont Morgan class and has moneyto buy railroads. Don't get excited when we begin to bag the money, butjust act as though it was a regular thing with us to salt down our goldfor winter, the same as we do our pork. "

A count, or a duke, gave us nice seats, and rakes to haul in the money;a countess, with a low-necked dress, winked at dad when he reached intohis pistol pocket and brought out a roll of bills and handed them to theDakota man, who bought $500 worth of red chips, and when the man lookedthe roulette table over and put about a pint of chips on the red, dadchoked up so he was almost black in the face, and began to perspire soI had to wipe my face with a handkerchief; the gambler rolled the wheeland when the ball stopped on the red, and dad did the raking and rakedin a quart of chips, and dad shook hands with the Dakota man and said:"Pard, we have got 'em on the run, " and reached for his sack to put inthe first installment of acquired wealth, and the low-necked countesssmiled a ravishing smile on dad, and dad looked as though he owned abrewery, and the Dakota man twisted his chin whiskers and acted like hewas sorry for the Monte Carlo bank, I just got so faint with joy that Ialmost cried. 

To think we had skinned along as economically as possible all our lives, and never made much money, and now, through this Dakota genius, and thisMonte Carlo opportunity, we had wealth raking in by the bushel, mademe feel great, and I wondered why more people had not found out thisfaraway place, where people could become rich and prosperous in a day, if they had the nerve. I tell you, old man, it was great, and I wasgoing to cable you to sell out your grocery for what you could getat forced sale and come here with the money, gamble and become amillionaire. 

[Illustration: Reach into another pocket and dig up another roll 171]

*****

Monte Carlo (the next day). --My Dear Uncle Ezra: I do not know how towrite you the sequel to this tragedy. After our Dakota partner, with theBlack Hills system of beating a roulette game, had won the first bet, he never guessed the right color again, and dad had no more use for therake. Every time he bet and lost, he would reach out to dad for moremoney, and dad would reach into another pocket and dig up another roll, and the countess would laugh and dad had to act as though he enjoyedlosing money. 

It was about dark when dad had fished up the last hundred dollars and itwas gone before dad could wink back to the countess, then the Dakota manlooked at dad for more, and dad shook his head and said it was all off, and they looked it each other a minute, and then we all three got upand went out in the park to see the people who had gone broke commitsuicide, but there was not a revolver shot and dad and the Dakota mansat down on a seat and I looked at the moon. 

He would reach out to Dad for more money, and Dad would reach intoanother pocket and dig up another roll. 

Dad looked at the Dakota man and said: "You started me in all right. What happened to your system?" The Dakota man was silent for a moment, and then he pointed to me and said: "That imp of yours crossed hisfingers every time I bet, except the first time. " Dad called me to him, and he said: "Hennery, let this be a lesson to you. Never to cross yourfingers. You have ruined your dad, " and he turned his pockets insideout, and hadn't change for a dollar note, and he gave me the empty sackto carry, and we went to our suite of rooms, knowing we would be firedout into the cold world. 

It will take a week to get money from the states, and we may be sentto the work house, as we are broke, and haven't got the means even tocommit suicide. Don't tell ma. 

Yours, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Have an Automobile Ride--They Run Over a Peasant--Climb "Glaziers"--Dad Falls Over a Precipice, But Is Rescued by the Guides After a Hard Time of It. 

Geneva, Switzerland. --My Dear Old Man: By ginger, but I would like to behome now. I have had enough of foreign travel; I don't see what is theuse of traveling, to see people of foreign countries, when you can go toany large city in America, and find more people belonging to anyforeign country than you can find by going to that country, and theyknow a confounded sight more. Take the Russians in New York, theNorwegians of Minnesota, the Italians of Chicago, and the Germans ofMilwaukee, and they can talk English, and you can find out all abouttheir own countries by talking with them, but you go to their countriesand the natives don't know that there is such a language as the UnitedStates language, and they laugh at you when you ask questions. I am sickof the whole business, and would give all I ever expect to be worth, tobe home right now, with my skates sharp. 

I would like to open the door of your old grocery, and take one longbreath and die right there on the doorstep, rather than to live inluxury in any foreign country. Do you know, I sometimes go into agrocery store abroad, and smell around, in order to get my thoughts ondear old America, but nothing abroad smells as the same thing does inour country. If I could get one more smell of that keg of sauerkrautback of your counter, when it is ripe enough to pick, I think I wouldbreak right down and cry for joy. Of course I have smelled sauerkrautover here, but it all seems new and tame compared to yours. It may bethe kraut here is not aged enough to be good, but yours is aged enoughto vote and sticks to your clothes. Gee, but I just ache to get intoyour grocery and eat things, and smell smells, and then lay down on thecounter with the cat with my head on a pile of wrapping paper and go tosleep and wake up in America, an American citizen, that no king or queencan tell to "hush up" and take off my hat when I want my hat on. 

You may wonder how we got out of Monte Carlo, when we had lost everycent we had gambling. Well, we wondered about it all night, and had ourbreakfast sent up to our room, and had it charged, expecting that whenthe bill came in we would have to jump into the ocean, as we had no gunto kill ourselves with. Just after breakfast a duke, or something, cameto our room, and dad said it was all off, and he called upon the Dakotaman to make a speech on politics, while dad and I skipped out. Wethought the duke, who was the manager of the hotel, would not understandthe speech, and would think we were great people, who had got stranded. 

[Illustration: Started in on a democratic speech 175]

The Dakota man started in on a democratic speech that he used to deliverin the campaign of '96, and in half an hour the duke held up his hands, and the Dakota man let up on the speech. Then the duke took out a rollof bills and said: "Ze shentlemen is what you call bust. Is it not so?"Dad said he could bet his life it was so. Then the duke handed the rollof bills to dad, and said it was a tribute from the prince ofMonaco, and that we were his guests, and when our stay was at an end, automobiles would be furnished for us to go to Nice, where we couldcable home for funds, and be happy. 

Well, when the duke left us, dad said: "Wouldn't that skin you?" and hegave the Dakota man one of the bills to try on the bartender, and whenhe found the money was good we ordered an automobile and skipped out forNice. The chauffeur could not understand English, so we talked over thesituation and decided that the only way to be looked upon as genuineautomobilists would be to wear goggles and look prosperous and mad ateverybody. We took turns looking mad at everybody we passed on the road, and got it down so fine that people picked up rocks after we had-passed, and threw them at us, and then we knew that we were succeeding in beingconsidered genuine, rich automobile tourists. 

After we had succeeded for an hour or two in convincing the people thatwe were properly heartless and purse proud, dad said the only thingwe needed to make the trip a success was to run over somebody. Hesaid nearly all the American automobile tourists in Europe had killedsomebody and had been obliged to settle and support a family or two inFrance or Italy, and they were prouder of it than they would be if theyendowed a university, or built a church, and he said he trusted ourchauffeur would not be too careful in running through the country, butwould at least cripple some one. 

Well, just before we got to Nice, and darkness was settling down on theroad, the chauffeur blew his horn, there was a scream that would raisehair on Horace Greeley's head, the automobile stopped, and there was abundle of dusty old clothes, with an old woman done up in them, and wejumped out and lifted her up, and there we were, the woman in a faint, the peasants gathering around us with scythes and rakes and clubs, demanding our lives. The bloody-faced woman was taken into a home, thecrowd held us, until finally a doctor came, and after examining thewoman said she might live, but it would be a tight squeeze. We wantedto go on, but we didn't want to be cut open with a scythe, so finally aman, who said he was the husband of the woman, came out with a gun, dadgot down on his knees and tried to say a prayer, the Dakota man held upboth hands like it was a stage being held up, and I cried. 

[Illustration: Dad got down on his knees and tried to say a prayer 178]

Finally the chauffeur said, in broken English, that the husband wouldsettle for $400, because he could pay the funeral expenses, getanother wife for half the money and have some thing left to lay up forChristmas. As the man's gun was pointed at dad, he quit praying andgave up the money and agreed to send $50 a month for 11 years, until theoldest child was of age. 

Well, we got away alive, got into Nice, and the chauffeur started backand we cabled home for money to be sent to Geneva, Switzerland. But, say; you have not heard the sequel. A story that has a sequel is alwaysthe best, and I hope to die if the police of Nice didn't tell us that wewere buncoed by that old woman and that the chauffeur was in the schemeand got part of dad's money. The way they do it is to wait till dark, and then roll the woman in the dust and put some red ink on her face, and she pretends to be run over, and the doctor is hired by the month, and they average $500 a night, playing that game on automobile touristsfrom America. After the woman is run over every night, and the moneyis collected, and the victims have been allowed to go on their way, thewhole community gathers at the house of the injured woman and they havea celebration and a dance, and probably our chauffeur got back to thehouse that night in time to enjoy the celebration. I suppose thousandsof Americans are paying money for killing people that never got ascratch. 

Say, we think in America that we have plenty of ways to rob thetenderfoot, but they give us cards and spades and little casino and beatus every time. Dad wanted to hire a hack and go back and finish that oldwoman with an ax, because he said he had a corpse coming to him, but thepolice told him he could be arrested for thinking murder, and that hewas a dangerous man, and that they would give him 12 hours to get outof France, and so we bought tickets for Switzerland, though what we camehere for I don't know, only dad said it was a republic like Americaand he wanted to breathe the free air of mountains in the home of theSwitzerkase. 

Well, anybody can have Switzerland if they want it. I will sell myinterest cheap. The first three days we were here everybody wanted us togo out on the lake, said to be the most beautiful lake in the world, andwe sailed on it, and rowed on it, and looked down into the clear waterwhere it is said you can see a corpse on the bottom of the lake 100 feetdown. We hadn't lost any corpse, except the corpse of that old womanwe run over at Nice, but we wanted to get the worth of our money, so wekept looking for days, but the search for a corpse becomes tame afterawhile, and we gave it up. All we saw in the bottom of the lake was acow, but no man can weep properly over the remains of a cow, and dadsaid they could go to the deuce with their corpses, and we just campedat the hotel till our money came. Say, that lake they talk so much aboutis no better than lakes all over Wisconsin, and there are no black bassor muskellunges in it. 

The tourists here are just daffy about climbing mountains and glaziers, and they talk about it all the time, and I could see dad's finish. They told him that no American that ever visited Switzerland would berecognized when he got home if he had not climbed the glaziers, so dadarranged for a trip up into the sky. We went 100 miles or so on thecars, passing along valleys where all the cows wear tea bells, and itsounds like chimes in the distance. It is beautiful in Switzerland, but the cheese is something awful. A piece of native Swiss cheese wouldbreak up a family. 

At night we arrived at a station where we hired guides and clothes, andthings, and the next morning we started. Dad wanted me to stay at thestation a couple of days, while he was gone, and play with the goats, but I told him if there were any places in the mountains or glaziers anymore dangerous than Paris or Monte Carlo, I wanted to visit them, so helet me go. Well, we were rigged up for discovering the north pole, andhad alpenstocks to push ourselves up with, and the guides had ropes topull us up when we got to places where we couldn't climb. I could getalong all right, but they had dad on a rope most of the time pulling himuntil his tongue run out and his face turned blue. But dad was game, anddon't you forget it. 

Before noon we got on top of a glazier, which is the ice of a frozenriver, that moves all the time, sliding towards the sea. 

[Illustration: Dad slipped down a crevice about 100 feet 181]

There was nothing but a hard winter, in summer, to the experience, andwe would have gone back the same night, only dad slipped down a creviceabout 100 feet with the rope on him, and the two guides couldn't pullhim up, and we had to send a lunch down to him on the rope and one ofthe guides had to go back to the village for help to get dad up. Well, sir, I think dad was nearer dead than he ever was before, but they sentdown a bottle of brandy, and when he drank some of it the snow began tomelt and he was warm enough to use bad language. 

He yelled to me that this was the limit and wanted to know how longthey were going to keep him there. I yelled to him that one of theguides had gone for help to pull him out, and he said for them to ordera yoke of oxen. I told him that probably he would have to remain thereuntil spring opened and that I was going back to America and leave himthere, and he better pray. 

[Illustration: Have to remain there until spring opened 183]

I don't know whether dad prayed, down there in the bowels of themountains, but he didn't pray when help came, and they finally hauledhim up. His breath was gone, but he gave those guides some languagethat would set them to thinking if they could have understood him, andfinally we started down the mountain. They kept the rope on dad andevery little while he would slip and slide 100 feet or so down themountain on his pants, and the snow would go up his trousers legs clearto his collar, and the exercise made him so hot that the steam came outof his clothes, and he looked like a locomotive wrecked in a snow bankblowing off steam. 

It became dark and I expected we would be killed, but before midnight wegot to the station and changed our clothes and paid off the guides andtook a train back. Dad said to me, as we got on the cars: "Now, Hennery, I have done this glazier stunt, just to show you that a brave man, whatever his age, is equal to anything they can propose in Europe, but by ginger, this settles it, and now I want to go where things comeeasier. I am now going to Turkey and see how the Turks worry along. Areyou with me?" "You bet your life, " says I. 

Yours truly, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XV. 

 Dad Plays He Is an Anarchist--They Give Alms to the Beggars and the Bad Boy Ducks a Gondolier and His Dad in the Grand Canal. 

Venice, Italy. --My Dear Old Chumireno: Dad couldn't get out ofSwitzerland quick enough after he got thawed out the day after weclimbed the glaziers. We found that almost all the tourists in Genevawere there because they did not want to go home and say they had notvisited Switzerland, so they just jumped from one place to another. Thepeople who stay there any length of time are like the foreign residentsof Mexico, who are wanted for something they have done at home, that isagainst the law. There are more anarchists in Geneva than anything else, and they look hairy and wild eyed, and they plot to kill kings and drinkbeer out of two quart jars. 

When we found that more attention was paid to men suspected of crimein their own countries, and men who were believed to be plotting toassassinate kings, dad said it would be a good joke if a story shouldget out that he was suspected of being connected with a syndicate thatwanted to assassinate some one, so I told a fellow that I got acquaintedwith that the fussy old man that tried to ride a glazier without anysaddle or stirrup was wanted for attempting to blow up the presidentof the United States by selling him baled hay soaked in a solution ofdynamite and nitro-glycerine. 

[Illustration: Dad and the anarchists reveled till morning 188]

Say, they will believe anything in Switzerland. It wasn't two hoursbefore long-haired people were inviting dad to dinners, and the samenight he was taken to a den where a lot of anarchists were reveling, anddad reveled till almost morning. When he came back to the hotel he saidhis hosts got all the money he had with him, through some game he didn'tunderstand, but he under stood it was to go into a fund to supportdeserving anarchists and dynamiters. He said when they found out he wasa suspected assassin nothing was too good for him. He said they wantedto know how he expected to kill a president by soaking baled hay inexplosives, and dad said it came to him suddenly to tell them that thepresident rode on horseback a good deal, and he thought if a horse wasfilled with baled hay, and nitro-glycerine and the president spurredthe horse and the horse jumped in the air and came down kerchunk on anasphalt pavement, the horse would explode, and when the rider came downcovered with sausage covers and horse meat, he would be dead, or wouldwant to be. Dad said the anarchists went into executive session and tookup a collection to send a man to Berlin to fill the emperor's saddlehorse with cut feed like dad suggested. 

Well, the anarchist story was too much for Switzerland, and the nextmorning dad was told by a policeman that he had to get out of thecountry quick, and it didn't take us 15 minutes to pack up, and here weare in Venice. 

Well, say, old friend, this is the place where you ought to be, becausenobody works here, that is, nobody but gondoliers. We have been hereseveral days, and I have not seen a soul doing anything except begging, or selling things that nobody seems to want. If anybody buys anythingbut onions, it is for curiosity, or for souvenirs, and yet the wholepopulation sits around in the sun and watches the strangers from otherlands price things and go away without buying, and then everybody looksmad, as though they would like to jab a knife into the stranger. Theplazas and the places near the canal are filled with hucksters andbeggars, and you never saw beggars so mutilated and sore and disgusting. I never supposed human beings could be so deformed, without taking an axto them, and it is so pitiful to see them that you can't help sheddingyour money. 

[Illustration: Coughed up over $40 the first day, just giving to beggars191]

As hard hearted as dad is, he coughed up over $40 the first day, justgiving to beggars, and he thought he had got them all bought up, andthat they would let him alone, but the next day when he showed up therewere ten beggars where there was one the day before, and they followedhim everywhere, and all the loafers in the plazas laughed and acted asif they would catch the cripples when dad got out of sight and rob thebeggars. Dad thinks the way the people live is by dividing with beggars. A man who has a deformity, or a sore that you can see half a block away, seems to be considered rich here, like a man in America who owns stockin great corporations. These beggars pay more taxes than the dukes andthings who live in style. 

I suppose dad never studied geography, so he didn't know how Venice wassituated, so he told me to go out and order a hack the first morning wewere here, and we would go and see the town. When I told dad there wereno hacks, no horses and no roads in Venice, he said I was crazy in myhead and wanted me to take some medicine and stay in bed for a few days, but I convinced him, when we got outdoors, that everything run by water, and when I showed him the canal and the gondolas, he remembered allabout Venice, and picked out a gondalier that looked like one dad sawat the world's fair, and we hired him because he talked English. All theEnglish the gondolier could use were the words "you bet your life, " and"you're dam right, " but dad took him because it seemed so homelike, andwe have been riding in gondolas every day. 

On the water you can get away from the beggars. This is an idealexistence. You just get in the gondola, under a canopy, and thegondolier does the work, and you glide along between build ings andwonder who lives there, and when they wake up, as all day long theblinds are closed, and everybody seems to be dead. But at night, whenthe canals are lighted, and the moon shines, the people put on theirdress clothes and sit on verandas, or eat and drink, and talk Eyetalian, and ride in gondolas, and play guitars, and smoke cigarettes, and talklove. It is so warm you can wear your summer pants, and the water smellsof clams that died long ago. It is just as though Chicago was floodedby the bursting of the sewers, and people had to go around State street, and all the cross streets, and Michigan avenue, in fishing boats, withthree feet of water on top of the pavements. Imagine the people ofChicago taking gondolas and riding along the streets, landing at thestores and hotels, just as they do now from carriages. 

We had been riding in gondolas for two days, getting around in the mudwhen the tide was out, and going to sleep and waiting for the tide tocome in, when it seemed to me that dad needed some excitement, and lastnight I gave it to him. 

We were out in our gondola, and the moon was shining, and the electriclights made the canal near the Rialto bridge as light as day. The Rialtobridge crosses the Grand canal, and has been the meeting place forlovers for thousands of years. It is a grand structure, of carvedmarble, but it wouldn't hold up a threshing machine engine half aswell as an iron bridge. Well, the canal was filled with thousands ofgondolas, loaded with the flower of Venetian society, and the music justmade you want to fall in love. Dad said if he didn't fall in love, orsomething, before morning, he would quit the place. I made up my mind heshould fall into something, so I began by telling dad it seemed strangeto me that nobody but Eyetalians could run a gondola. Dad said he couldrun a gondola as well as any foreigner, and I told him he couldn't runa gondola for shucks, and he said he would show me, so he got out of thehen house where we were seated, and went back on to the pointed endof the gondola, and grabbed the pole or paddle from the gondolier, andsaid: "Now, Garibaldi, you go inside the pup tent with Hennery, and letme punt this ark around awhile. "

Garibaldi thought dad was crazy, but he gave up the pole, and just then, when they were both on the extreme point of the gondola, and she waswabbling some, I peeked out through the curtains and thought the fruitwas about ripe enough to pick, so I threw myself over to one side ofthe gondola, and, by gosh, if dad and Garibaldi didn't both go overboardwith a splash, and one yell in the English language, and one inEye-talian, and I rushed out of the cabin and such a sight you neversaw. 

[Illustration: Overboard, one yell in the English language, one inEye-talian 193]

Dad retained the paddle, and had his head out of water, but nothingshowed above the water, where Garibaldi was except a red patch on hisblack pants. Dad was yelling for help, and finally the gondolier got hishead out of the water, and said something that sounded like grinding abutcher knife on a grindstone, and I yelled, too, and the gondolas beganto gather around us, and the two men were rescued. The gondolier hadbeen gondoling all his life and he had never been in the water before, and they thought it would strike in and kill him, so they wrapped him upin blankets and put him aboard his canoe, and he looked at me as thoughI was to blame. They got a boat hook fastened in dad's pants and landedhim in the gondola, and he dripped all the way to our hotel, and hesmelled like a fish market. 

I asked Garibaldi, on the way to the hotel, if he was counting his beadswhen he was down under the water with nothing but his pants out of thewater, and he said: "You're dam right, " but I don't think he knew themeaning of the words, because he probably wouldn't swear in the presenceof death. Dad just sat and shivered all the way to the hotel, but whenwe got to our room I asked him what his idea was in jumping overboardright there before folks, with his best clothes on, and he said it wasall Garibaldi's fault, that just as dad was getting a good grip on thepaddle, the gondolier heaved a long sigh, and the onions in his breathparalyzed dad so he fell overboard. 

[Illustration: Then you don't blame your little boy, do you 197]

"Then you don't blame your little boy, do you?" says I, and dad lookedat me as he was hanging his wet shirt on a chair. "Course not; youwere asleep in the cabin. But say, if I ever hear that you did tip thatgondola, it will go hard with you, " but I just looked innocent, and dadwent on drying his shirt by a charcoal brazier and never suspected me. But I am getting the worst of it, for dad and his clothes smell so muchlike a clam bake that it makes me sick. 

Well, old friend, you ought to close up your grocery and come over hereand go to Vesuvius and Pompeii with us, where we can dry our clothesby the volcano, and dig in the city that was buried in hot ashes 2, 000years ago. They say you can dig up mummies there that are dead ringersfor you, old man. 

O, come on, and have fun with us. 

Your friend, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

 The Bad Boy Writes from Naples--Dad Sees Vesuvius and Calls the Servants to Put Out the Fire--They Have Trouble with a "Dago" in Pompeii. 

Naples, Italy. --Dear Old Partner in Crime: Well, sir, we have struck aplace that reminds us of home, and your old grocery store. The day wegot here dad and I took a walk into the poorer districts, where theythrow all the slops and refuse in the streets, and where nobody everseems to clean up anything and burn it. The odor was something that youcannot describe without a demonstration, and after we had turned paleand started to go away, dad said the smell reminded him of somethingat home, and finally he remembered your old grocery in the sauerkrautseason, early in the morning, before you had aired out the place. Yourears must have burned when we were talking about you. 

If you want to get an idea of Naples, at its worst, go down into yourcellar and round up all the codfish, onions, kraut, limburger cheese, kerosene, rotten potatoes, and everything that is dead, put it all ina bushel basket, and just before the Health officers come to pull yourplace, get down on your knees and put your head down in the basket, andlet some one sit on your head all the forenoon, and you will have justsuch a half day as dad and I had in the poor quarter of Naples, andit will not cost you half as much as it did us, unless, after you haveenjoyed yourself in your cellar with your head in the basket, you decideto have a run of sickness and hire a doctor who will charge you theprice of a trip to Europe. 

Well, sir, Naples is a dandy, in its clean part. The bay of Naples is adead ringer for Milwaukee bay, in shape and beauty, but Milwaukeelacks Vesuvius and Pompeii, for suburbs, and she lacks the customaryhighwaymen to hold you up. Every man, woman and child we have met makesa living out of the tourists, and nobody that I have seen works at anyother business. 

[Illustration: Wanted to turn in a fire alarm 201]

We woke up the first morning and dad looked out the window and sawVesuvius belching forth flame and lava and stone fences, and wanted toturn in a fire alarm, but I told him that that fire had been ragingever since the Christian era, and was not one of these incendiary barnburnings, but he opened the window and yelled fire, and the porters andchambermaids came running to our room, with buckets of water, andwanted to know where the fire was. Dad pointed out of the window towardsVesuvius and said: "Some hired girl has been starting a fire withkerosene, in that shanty on the knoll out there, and the whole ranchwill burn if you don't turn out the fire department, you gosh blastedlazy devils. Get a move on and help carry out the furniture. "

Well, they calmed dad, and then I had to go to work and post dad upon the geography he had forgotten, and finally he remembered seeing apicture of a volcano or burning mountain in his geography 50 years ago, but he told me he never believed there was a volcano in the world, butthat he always thought they put those pictures in geographies to makethem sell. How a man can attain the prominence and position in thebusiness world that dad has, and not know any more than he does, is whatbeats me. 

Of course, you know, having kept a grocery since the war, and having hadopportunities to study history, by the pictures on the soap boxes andinsurance calendars, that Nero, the Roman tyrant, after Rome was burned, while he fiddled for a dance in a barn, got so accustomed to fire andbrimstone that he retired to Naples and touched off Vesuvius, just sohe could look at it. But Vesuvius, about 2, 000 years ago, got to burningway down in its bowels, and the fire got beyond control, and I supposenow the fire is away down in the center of the earth, and you know whenyou get down in the earth below the crust, on which we live and raisepotatoes, everything is melted, like iron in a foundry, and Vesuvius isthe spigot through which the fluid comes to the surface. You see, don'tyou?

Just imagine that this earth is a barrel of beer, which you canunderstand better than anything else, and it is being shaken up by beinghauled around on wagons and cars, and is straining to get out, then abartender drives a spigot into the bung, turns the thumb piece, and thepent-up beer comes out foaming and squirting, and there you are. 

Instead of beer, Vesuvius is loaded with lava, that runs like molasses, and when it is cold it is indigestible as a cold buckwheat cake, and youcan make it up into jewelry, that looks like maple sugar and smells likea fire in a garbage crematory. Besides the lava there are stones as bigas a house that are thrown up by the sea-sickness of the earth, as itheaves and pants, and then the ashes that come out of the crater attimes would make you think that what they need there is to have achimney sweep go down and brush out the flues. 

[Illustration: Threw a pail of ashes over the fence 204]

To get an idea of what a nuisance the ashes from the crater are to thecities on the plain below, you remember the time you were out in yourback yard splitting boxes for kindling wood and my chum and I threw apail of ashes over the fence, and accidentally it went all over you, about four inches thick. That time you got mad and threw cucumbersat us, when we ran down the alley. Keep that in your mind and you canunderstand the destruction of Pompeii, when Vesuvius, thousands of yearsago, coughed up hot ashes and covered the town 40 feet deep with hotstuff, and killed every living thing, and petrified and preserved thewhole business, and made a prairie on top of a town, and everybodyeventually forgot that there had ever been a town there, for about 2, 000years. If my chum and I had not run out of ashes we would have buriedyou so deep in your back yard that you would have been petrified withyour hatchet, and when they excavated the premises a thousand yearslater they would have found your remains and put you in a museum. 

Well, a couple of hundred years ago a peasant was sinking a well down inthe ashes, and he struck a petrified barroom, with a bartender standingbehind the bar in the act of serving some whisky 2, 000 years old, andthe peasant located a claim there, and the authorities took possessionof the prairie and have been digging the town out ever since, lookingfor more of that 2, 000-year-old whisky. 

When I told dad about what they were finding at the ruins of Pompeii, and how you were liable to find gold and diamonds and petrified women, he wanted to go and dig in the ashes, as he said it would be moreexciting than raking over the dumping grounds in Chicago for tin cansand lumps of coal, and so we hired a hack and went to the buried town, but dad insisted on carrying an umbrella, so if Vesuvius belched anymore ashes he could protect himself. Gee, but from what I have seen atthat old ruin, a man would need an umbrella made of corrugated iron tokeep from being buried. 

[Illustration: Dad insisted on carrying an umbrella 207]

Well, when we got to Pompeii dad was for going right where they weredigging, but I got him to look over the streets and houses that hadbeen uncovered first, and he was paralyzed to think that a town could becovered with ashes all these thousands of years, and then be uncoveredand find a town that would compare, in many respects, with cities of thepresent day, with residences complete with sculpture, paintings and cutmarble that would skin Chicago to a finish. 

We went through residences that looked as rich as the Vanderbilt housesin New York, baths that you could take a plunge and a swim in, if theyhad the water, paintings that would take a premium at any horse showto-day, pavements that would shame the pavements of London and Paris, and petrified women that you couldn't tell from a low-necked party inWashington, except that the ashes had eaten the clothes off. I guessmost of the people in Pompeii got away when the ashes began to raindown, for they must have seen that it wasn't going to be a light shower, but a deluge, 'cause they never have found many corpses. They must haverun to Naples, and maybe they are running yet, and you may see someof them at your grocery, and if you do see anybody covered with ashes, looking for a job, give them some crackers and cheese and charge it todad, for they must be hungry by this time. 

Say, do you know that some of those refugees from Pompeii went off insuch a hurry that they left bread baking in the ovens, and meat cookingin the pots? It seems the most wonderful thing to me of anything I eversaw. We went all through the streets and houses and saw ballroomsthat beat anything in San Francisco, and when we went into a buildingoccupied by the officers in charge of the excavations, and dad saw atelephone and an electric light, he thought those things had been dugup, too, and he claimed that the men who were receiving millions ofdollars in royalties on telephones and electric lights were frauds whowere infringing on Pompeii patents 2, 000 years old, and he wouldn'tbelieve me when I told him that telephones and electric lights were notdug up; he said then he wouldn't believe anything was dug up, but thatthe whole thing was a put-up job to rob tourists. But when we got to alocality where the dagoes were digging the ashes away from a house andwere uncovering a parlor, where rich things were being discovered, hesaw that it was all right. 

I suppose I never ought to have played such a thing on dad, but I toldhim that anybody who saw a thing first when it came out of the ashescould grab it and keep it, and just as I told him a workman threw out ashovel full of ashes, just as you would throw out dirt digging for angleworms, and there was a little silver urn with a lot of coins in it, andyou could not hold dad. He grabbed for it, the workman grabbed for it, and they went down together in the ashes, and the man rolled dad overand he was a sight, but the workman got the silver urn, and dad wantedto fight. 

[Illustration: The man rolled dad over and he was a sight 210]

Finally a man with a uniform on came along and was going to arrest dad, but they finally compromised by the man offering to sell the silver urnand the gold coins to dad for a hundred dollars, if he would promisenot to open it up until he got out of Italy, and dad paid the money andwrapped the urn up in a Chicago paper, and we took our hack and wentback to Naples on a gallop. 

Dad could hardly wait till we got to the hotel before opening up hisprize, but he held out until we got to our room, when he unwrapped theurn to count his ancient gold coins. Well, you'd a-died to see dad'sface when he opened that can. It was an old tomato can that had beenwrought out with a hammer so it looked like hammered silver, and whenhe emptied the gold coins out on the table there was a lot of brass tagsthat looked like dog license tags, and baggage checks and brass buttons. I had to throw water on dad to bring him to, and then he swore he wouldkill the dago that sold him the treasure from the ruins of Pompeii. It was a great blow to dad, and he has bought a dirk knife to kill thedago. To-morrow we take in Vesuvius, and when we come down from thecrater we go to Pompeii and kill the dago in his tracks. Dad may causeVesuvius to belch again with hot ashes, and cover the ruins of Pompeii, but if he can't turn on the ashes, the knife will do the business. 

Yours, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Climb Vesuvius--A Chicago Lady Joins the Party and Causes Trouble. 

Naples, Italy. --Siegnor ze Grocerino: I guess that will make you standwithout hitching for a little while. Say, I am getting so full of deadlanguages, and foreign palaver, that I shall have to have an operationon my tongue when I get home before I can speel the United Stateslanguage again so you can make head or tail of it. You see, I don't staylong enough in a country to acquire its language, but I get a few wordsinto my system, so now my English is so mixed with French words, Italiangarlic and German throat trouble that I cannot understand myself unlessI look in a glass and watch the motions of my lips. Dad has not pickedup a word of any foreign language, and says he should consider himself atraitor to his country if he tried to talk anything but English. Hedid get so he could order a glass of beer by holding up his finger andsaying "ein, " but he found later that just holding up his fingerwithout saying "ein" would bring the beer all the same so he cut out thelanguage entirely and works his finger until it needs a rest. 

When I used to study my geography at the little red schoolhouse, andlook at the picture of the volcano Vesuvius, and read about how it wouldthrow up red-hot lava, and ashes, and rocks as big as a house, and wipeout cities, it looked so terrible to me that I was glad when we gotthrough with the volcano lesson, and got to Greenland's icy mountains, where there was no danger except being frozen to death, or made sick byeating blubber sliced off of whales. 

Then I never expected to be right on the very top of that volcano, throwing stones down in the lava, and sailing chips down the streams ofhot stuff, just as I sailed chips on ice water at home-when the streetswere flooded by spring rains. Say, there is no more danger on Vesuviusthan there is in a toboggan slide, or shooting the chutes at home. Ithought we would have to hire dagoes to carry us up to the top, and berobbed and held up, and may be murdered, but it is just as easy as goingup in the elevator of a skyscraper, and no more terrifying thansitting on a 50-cent seat in a baseball park at home and witnessing the"Destruction of Pompeii" by a fireworks display

The crater looks sort of creepy, like a big cauldron kettle boiling soapon a farm, only it is bigger, and down in the earth's bowels you canwell believe there is trouble, and if you believe in a hell, you can getit, illustrated proper, but the rivulets of lava that flow out of thewrinkles around the mouth of the crater are no more appalling thanmaking fudges over a gas stove. When the lava cools you would swear itwas fudges, only you can't eat the lava and get indigestion as you caneating fudges. 

It was hard work to get dad to go up on the volcano, because he said heknew he would fall into it, and get his clothes burned, and he said hecouldn't climb clear to the top, on account of his breath being short, but when I told him he could ride up on a trolley car, and have thevolcano brought right to him, he weakened, and one morning we leftNaples early and before two hours had passed we were on a littlecogwheel railroad going up, and dad was looking down on the scenery, expecting every minute the cogs would slip and we would cut loose and godown all in a heap and be plastered all over the vineyards and big treesand be killed. 

I don't know what makes dad so nervous, but he wanted a woman fromChicago, who was on the car with us, to hold his hand all the way up, but she said she was no nurse in a home for the aged, and she said shewould cuff dad if he didn't let go of her. I told her she better notget dad mad if she knew what was good for her, for he was a regularBluebeard, and wouldn't take no slack from no Chicago female, 'causehe had buried nine wives already. So she held his hand, and I guess shethinks she will be my stepmother, but I bet she don't. 

Well, after we got almost to the top the car stopped, and we had to walkthe rest of the way, several hundred feet, and we had to have a pusherand a putter for dad, a dago to go ahead and pull him up, and anotherto put his shoulder against dad's pants and shove. Gee, but it was apicture to see dad "go up old baldhead, " with the dagoes perspiring andswearing at dad for being so heavy, and the Chicago woman laughing, andme pushing her up. 

[Illustration: It was a picture to see dad go up old baldhead 214]

One thing that scared dad was that every little way there was a shrine, where the guides left dad lying on the ground, blocked with a piece ofcold lava, so he wouldn't roll down, like you would block a wagon wheel, and they would go to the shrine and kneel and say some prayers. 

Dad was afraid they were going to charge the prayers in the bill forpushing him up, but I told dad that these people expected every timethey, went up to the top that it would be their last trip, as they knewthat some day the volcano would open in a new place and swallow themwhole, with all the tourists. Then he gave them a dollar apiece to prayfor him, and wanted to go back down the mountain and let Vesuvius runits own fireworks, but the Chicago lady told dad to brace up and shewould protect him, and so the guides gave a few more pushes, and we wereon top of the volcano, and dad collapsed and had to be brought to withsmelling salts and whisky that the woman carried in her pistol pocket. 

Gee, but it was worth all the trouble to get up the mountain, to see thesight that opened up. The hole in the mountain filled with boiling stuffwas worth the price of admission, and the roaring of the boiling stuff, and the explosions way down cellar, and the flying stones, the smokegoing into the air for a mile, like the burning of an oil well, thered-hot lava finding crevices to leak through, and flowing down theside of the mountain in streams like hot maple sirup, made a scene thaicaused us to take off our hats and thank the good Lord that the thinghadn't overflowed enough to hurt us. But I could see dad was scared, 'cause when I wanted him to go around the edge of the crater with me, and see the hell-roaring free show from other points of view, andsee where the hot ashes years ago rolled down and covered Pompeii andHerculaneum, he balked and said he had seen all he wanted to, and if hecould stay alive until the next car went down the mountain, they couldall have his interest in Vesuvius, and be darned to them, but he said ifI wanted to go around looking for trouble, he would stay there under abig rock, with the Chicago lady, and wait for me to come back. She saidshe knew dad was all tired out, and needed rest, and she would stay withhim, and keep him cheered up; so I left them and went off with oneof the dagoes, to slide down hill on some flowing lava, and pick upspecimens. 

Well, sir, I wish I could get along some way without telling the rest ofthis sad story, but if I am going to be a historian I have got to tellthe whole blame thing. 

[Illustration: And she was stroking his hair 217]

When I left dad and the Chicago woman she had produced a lunch fromsomewhere about her person, and a small bottle, and they were eating anddrinking, and dad was laughing more natural than I had seen him laughsince we run over the old woman with the automobile at Nice, and she wassmiling on dad just as though she was his sweetheart. (As I went aroundthe crater, a couple of blocks away, I looked back and dad had laid hishead in her lap, and she was stroking his hair. )

Well, I picked up specimens, burned the soles off my shoes wading in thelava, and took in the volcano from all sides, and after an hour I wentback to where dad and the woman were lunching, but the woman was gone, and dad acted as though he had been hit by an express train, his eyeswere wild, his collar was gone, his pocketbook was on the ground, empty, his coat was gone, his scarf-pin had disappeared and the $11 watch hebought when he was robbed the other time was missing, and dad's tonguewas run out, and he was yelling for water. I thought he had been tryingto drink some lava. 

[Illustration: He was yelling for water 223]

"Dad, what in the world has happened to you?" said I, as I rushed up tohim. 

"That woman has happened to me, that is all, " said dad, as he took aswallow of water out of a canteen one of the dagoes had. 

"Tell me about it, dad, " said I, trying to keep from laughing, when Isaw that he was not hurt. 

"Say, let this be a lesson to you, " said dad, "and don't you steeranother woman to me on this trip. Do you know you hadn't more than gotaround that big rock when she said she was tired and was going to faint, for the altitude was too high for her, and I tried to soothe her, andshe did look pale, and, by gosh, I thought she was going to die on myhands, and I would have to carry her corpse down the mountain. I hearda scuffling on the rocks, and she looked up and saw a man not ten feetaway, and she said: 'Me husband!' and then she fainted and grabbed mearound the neck, and I couldn't get her loose. She just froze to melike a person drowning, and that husband of hers, who had come up on thelast car, hunting for his wife, who had eloped, pulled a long blue gunand told me he would give me five minutes to pray, and then he wouldkill me and throw my body down in the creater, to sizzle. "

[Illustration: Pulled a long blue gun 220]

"I told him I could pay up enough ahead in three minutes, and he couldtake all I had if he would loosen up his wife, and bring her to, andtake her away, and let me die all alone, and let the buzards eat me, uncooked. He took the bet, pulled her arms away from my throat, took mymoney and coat, brought her to, and said he was going to throw her intothe crater, but I told him she had certainly been good to me, and if hewould spare her life, and take her away in the cars, he could have mywatch and scarfpin, and he took them, and they went to the cars. 

"She looked back at me with the saddest face I ever saw, and said:'O, sir, it is all a terrible dream, and I will see you in Naples, andexplain all, ' and now, by Christmas, I want to go back to town and findher, and rescue her from that jealous husband, " and dad got up and westarted for the car. 

The man and his wife went down on the car ahead of us, and dad wouldn'tbelieve they were regular bunko people, who play that game everyday onsome old sucker, but the man that runs the car told me so. 

I can be responsible for dad in everything except the women he meets. When it comes to women, your little Hennery don't know the game at all. 

Yours, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

 The Bad Boy Makes Friends with Some Italian Children--Dad Is Chased by Lions from the Coliseum--"Not Any More Rome for Papa, " Says Dad. 

Rome, Italy. --My Dear Old "Pard:" Well, sir, if you could see me now, you wouldn't know me, because foreign travel has broadened me out soI can talk on any subject, and people of my age look upon me as anauthority, and they surround me everywhere I go and urge me to talk. The fact that the boys and girls do not understand a word I say makesno difference. They do not wear many clothes here, and there is no styleabout them, and when they see me with a whole suit of clothes on, anda hat and shoes and socks, and a scarf-pin on my necktie, they thinkI must be an Americano that is too rich for any use, or something thatranks with a prince at least, and the boys delight to be with me and doerrands for me, and the girls seem to be in love with me. 

There is no way you can tell if a girl is in love with you, except thatshe looks at you with eyes that are as black as coal, and they seem toburn a hole right into your insides, and when they take hold of yourhand they hang on and squeeze like alamand-left in a dance at home, andthey snug up to you and are as warm and cheerful as a gas stove. 

[Illustration: It brought on a revolution 227]

Say, I sat on a bench in a plaza with a girl about my age, for an hour, while the other girls and boys sat on the ground and looked at us inadmiration, and when I put my arm around her and kissed her on herpouting lips, it brought on a revolution. An Italian soldier policemantook me by the neck and threw me across the street, the girl scratchedme with her finger nails and bit me, and yelled some grand hailing signof distress, her brother and a ragged boy that was in love with the girland was jealous, drew daggers, and the whole crowd yelled murder, and Istarted for our hotel on a run, and the whole population of Rome seemedto follow me, and I might as well have been a negro accused of crime inthe states. I thought they would burn me at the stake, but dad came outof the hotel and threw a handful of small change into the crowd, and itwas all off. 

After they picked up the coin they beckoned me to come out and play somemore, but not any more for little Hennery. I have been in love in allcountries where we have traveled, and in all languages, but this Italianlove takes the whole bakery, and I do not go around any more without achaperone. The girls are ragged and wear shawls over their heads, and there are holes in their dresses and their skin isn't white, likeAmerican girls', but is what they call olive complexion, like stuffedolives you buy in bottles, stuffed with cayenne pepper, but the girlsare just like the cayenne pepper, so warm that you want to throw wateron yourself after they have touched you. Gee, but I wouldn't want tolive in a climate where girls were a torrid zone, 'cause I should melt, like an icicle that drops in a stove, and makes steam and blows up thewhole house. 

Well, old man, you talk about churches, but you don't know anythingabout it. Dad and I went to St. Peter's in Rome, and it is the grandestthing in the world. Say, the Congregational church at home, which wethought so grand, could be put in one little corner of St. Peter's, andwould look like 30 cents. St. Peter's covers ground about half a milesquare, and when you go inside and look at grown people on the otherside of it, they look like flies, and the organ is as big as a block ofbuildings in Chicago, and when they blow it you think the last day hascome, and yet the music-is as sweet as a melodeon, and makes you wantto get down on your knees with all the thousands of good Christians ofItaly, and confess that you are a fraud that ought to be arrested. 

Dad and I have been to all kinds of churches, everywhere, and neverturned a hair, but since we got to this town and got some of theprevailing religion into our systems, we feel guilty, and it seems asthough everybody could see right into us, and that they knew we wereheathen that never knew there was a God. Sure thing, I never supposedthere were so many people in the world that worshiped their Maker, asthere are here, and I don't wonder that all over the world good peoplelook to Rome for the light. Dad keeps telling me that when we get homewe will set an example that will make people pay attention, but he sayshe does not want to join the church until he has seen all the sights, and then he will swear off for good. 

He said to me yesterday: "Now, Hennery, I have been to all the piousplaces with you, the pope's residence, the catacombs and St. Peter's, where they preach from 40 different places and make you feel like givingup your sins, and I have looked at carvings and decorations and marbleand jewels and seen the folly of my ways of life, and I am ripe for achange, but before I give up the world and all of its wickedness, I wantblood. I want to go to the other extreme, and see the wild beasts at theColiseum tear human beings limb from limb, and drink their blood, andsee gladiators gladiate, and chop down their antagonists, and put onefoot on their prostrate necks, like they do in the theaters, and then Iam ready to leave this town and be good. "

Well, sir, I have been in lots of tight places before, but this one beatthe band. Here was my dad, who did not know that the Roman, gladiatorbusiness had been off the boards for over 2, 000 years, that the eatingof human prisoners by wild beasts in the presence of the Roman populacewas played out, and that the Coliseum was a ruin and did not exist asa place of amusement. He thought everything that he had read about thehorrors of a Roman holiday was running to-day, as a side show, and hewanted to see it, and I had encouraged him in his ideas, because he wasnervous, and I didn't want to undeceive him. He had come to Rome tosee things he couldn't find at home, and it was up to me to deliver thegoods. 

Gee, but it made me sweat, 'cause I knew if dad did not get a show forhis money he would lay it up against me, so I told him we would go tothe Coliseum that night and see the hungry lions and tigers eat some ofthe leading citizens, just as they did when Caesar run the show. Then Ifound an American from Chicago at the hotel, who sells soap in Rome, andtold him what dad expected of me in the way of amusement, and he saidthe only way was to take dad out to the Coliseum, and in the dark rolla barrel of broken glass down the tiers of seats and make him believethere was an earthquake that had destroyed the Coliseum, and that thelions and tigers were all loose, looking for people to eat, and scaredad and make a run back to town. 

[Illustration: What dad expected of me in the way of amusement 230]

I didn't want to play such a scandalous trick on dad, but the Chicagoman said that was the only way out of it, and he could get a barrel ofbroken glass for a dollar, and hire four ruffians that could roar likelions for a few dollars, and it would give dad good exercise, and may besave him from a run of Roman fever, 'cause there was nothing like a goodsweat to knock the fever out of a fellow's system. The thing struck meas not only a good experience for dad, but a life saver, so I whacked upthe money, and the Chicago soap man did the rest. 

After dark we went out to the ruin of the Coliseum, where a great manytourists go to look at the ruins by moonlight, and dad was as anxiousand bloodthirsty as a young surgeon cutting up his first "stiff. "When we got to the right place, and I told dad we were a little early, because the nobility were not in their seats, the villains began to roarthree dollars' worth like hungry lions, and dad turned a little pale andsaid that sounded like the real thing. 

I told him we better not get too near, because we were not accustomedto seeing live men chewed up by beasts, and dad said he didn't care hownear we got, as long as they chewed and tore to pieces the natives; sowe started to work up a little nearer, when there was a noise such as Inever heard before, as the hogshead of broken glass began to roll downthe tiers of stone seats, and I fell over on the ground, and pusheddad, and he went over in the sand and struck his pants on a cactus, andyelled that he was stabbed with a dirk. 

[Illustration: Went over in the sand and struck his pants on a cactus233]

I got up and fell down again, and just then the Chicago soap man cameup on a gallop, followed by the villains playing lion and tiger, and dadasked the Chicago man what seemed to be the matter, and he said: "Matterenough; there has been an earthquake, and the Coliseum has fallen down, killing more than 10, -000 Romans, and the animals' cages are busted andthe animals are loose, looking for fresh meat, and we better get rightback to Rome, too quick, or we will be eaten alive. Come on if you arewith me. Do you hear the lions after us?" said he, as the hired villainsroared. 

[Illustration: He took the lead for good old Rome 235]

Well, you'd a died to see dad get up out of that prickly cactus and takethe lead for good old Rome. I didn't know he was such a sprinter, butwe trailed along behind, roaring like lions and snarling like tigers andyip-yapping like hyenas and barking like timber wolves, and we couldn'tsee dad for the dust, on that moonlight night. 

We slowed up and let dad run ahead, and he got to the hotel first, andwe paid off the villains, and finally we went in the hotel and founddad in the bar-room puffing and drinking a high-ball. "Pretty near hell, wasn't it, " said dad, to the soap man. "Did the lions catch anybody?""O, a few of the lower classes, " said the soap man, "but none of thenobility. The nobility were in the boxes and that part of the Coliseumnever falls during an earthquake, " and the soap man joined dad in ahigh-ball. 

After dad got through puffing and had wiped about two quarts ofperspiration off his head and neck, and the soap man had told him whata great thing it was to perspire in Rome, on account of the Roman fever, that catches a man at night and kills him before morning, dad turnedto me and said: "Hennery, you go pack up and we get out of this in themorning, for I feel as though I had been chewed by one of those hyenas. Not any more Rome for papa, " and the high-ball party broke up, and wewent to bed to get sleep enough to leave town. 

Do you know, the next morning those hired villains made the soap man andI pay ten dollars extra on account of straining their lungs roaringlike lions? But we paid for their lungs all right, rather than have thempresent a bill to dad. 

Well, good-by, old man. We are getting all the fun there is going. 

Your only, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Visit the Pope--They Bow to the King of Italy and His Nine Spots--Dad Finds That "The Catacombs" Is Not a Comic Opera. 

Rome, Italy. --Dear Old Friend: You remember, don't you when you werea boy, playing "tag, you're it, " and "button, button, who's got thebutton?" that one of the trying situations was to be judged to "go toRome, " which meant that you were to kiss every girl in the room. 

[Illustration: Had to kiss anybody they brought to me 238]

I never got enough "going to Rome" when I attended church sociablesand parties, but always got blindfolded, and had to kiss anybody theybrought to me, which was usually a boy or a colored cook, so I teaseddad to take me to Rome, and when he got over his being rattled androbbed and burned by lava at Vesuvius, he said he didn't care wherehe went, and, besides, I told him about the Roman Coliseum, where theyturned hungry tigers and lions and hyenas loose among the gladiators, and the people could see the beasts eat them alive, and dad said thatwas something like it, as the way he had been robbed and misued inItaly, he would enjoy seeing a good share of the population chewed bylions, if the lions could stand it. I didn't tell dad that the wildanimal show had not been running for a couple of thousand years, 'causeI thought he would find it out when we got here. 

Say, old man, I guess I can help you to locate Rome. You remember thetime I spoke a piece at the school exhibition, when I put my hand insidemy flannel shirt, like an orator, and said: "And this is Rome, thatsat on her seven hills, and from her throne of beauty ruled the wholeworld. " Well, this is it, where I am now, but the seven hills have beengraded down, and Rome don't rule the whole world a little bit; but shehas got religion awful. 

The pope lives here, and he is the boss of more religious people thananybody, and though you may belong to any other kind of church, and whenyou are home you don't care a continental for any religion except yourown, or your wife's religion, and you act like an infidel, and scoffat good people, when you get to Rome and see the churches thicker thansaloons in Milwaukee, and everybody attending church and looking pious, you catch the fever, and try to forget bad things you have done, and ifyou get a chance to see the pope, you may go to his palace just 'causeyou want to see everything that is going on, and you think you don'tcare whether school keeps or not, and you feel independent, as thoughthis religion was something for weak people to indulge in, and finallyyou come face to face with the pope, and see his beautiful face, and hisgrand eyes, and his every movement is full of pious meaning, you "penuk"right there, and want to kneel down and let him bless you, by gosh. 

Say, I never saw dad weaken like he did when the pope came in. We gottickets to go to his reception, but dad said he had rather go to thecatacombs, or the lion show at the Coliseum. He said he didn't want toencourage popes, because he didn't believe they amounted to any morethan presiding elders at home. He said he had always been a Baptist, andthey didn't have any popes in his church, and he didn't believe in 'em, but some other Americans were going to see the pope, and dad consentedto go, under protest, it being understood that he didn't care twowhoops, anyway. 

Well, sir, we went, and it was the grandest thing you ever saw. Therewere guards by the thousand, beautiful gardens that would make CentralPark look like a hay marsh, hundreds of people in church vestments, andan air of sanctity that we never dreamed; jewels that are never seenoutside the pope's residence, and we lined up to see the holy fatherpass. 

Gee, but dad trembled like a dog tied out in the snow, and theperspiration stood out on his face, and he looked sorry for himself. Then came the procession, all nobles and great people, and then therewas a party of pious men carrying the most beautiful man we ever saw ona platform above us, and it was the pope, and he smiled at me, and thetears came to my eyes, and I couldn't swallow something which I s'posewas my sins, and then he looked at dad, and held up one hand, and dadwas pale, and there was no funny business about dad any more, and thenthey set the platform down and the pope sat in a chair, and those whowanted to went up to him, and he blessed them. 

[Illustration: For awhile dad dassent go up 241]

Say, for awhile dad dassent go up, 'cause he thought the pope could seeright through him, and would know he was a Baptist, but the rest of theAmericans were going up, and dad didn't want to be eccentric, so he andI went up. The pope put out his hand to dad, and instead of shaking it, as he would the hand of any other man on earth, and asking how his folkswere, dad bent over and kissed the pope's hand, and the pope blessedhim. Dad looked like a new man, a good man, and when the pope put hishand on my head, and blessed me, my heart came up in my throat, 'causeI thought he must know of all the mean things I had ever done, but I canfeel his soft, beautiful hand on my head now, and from this out I wouldfight any boy twice my size that ever said a word against the pope andhis religion. When we got outside dad says to me: "Hennery, don't youever let me hear of your doing a thing that would make the good mansorry if he was to hear about it. " And we went to our hotel and stayedall the afternoon, and all night, and just thought of that pope'sangelic face, and when one of the Americans came to our room and wanteddad to play cinch, he was indignant, and said: "I would as soon thinkof robbing a child's bank, " and we went to bed, and if dad wasn't aconverted man I never saw one. 

Well, sir, trouble, and sorrow, and religion, don't last very long ondad. The next morning we talked things over, and I quoted all the Romanstuff I could think of to dad, such as "In that elder day, to be a Romanwas greater than a king, " but before I could think twice there was acommotion in the streets and a porter came and made us take off ourhats, because the king was riding by, and we looked at the king, and dadwas hot. He said that fellow was nothing but a railroad hand, disguisedin a uniform, and, by ginger, if we had seen that king out west workingon a railroad, with canvas clothes on, he would not have looked likea king, on a bet. There was nothing but his good clothes that stoodbetween the king and a dago digging sewers in Chicago. 

After the king and his ninespots had passed, dad said: "When you are inRome, you must do as the Romans do, " and he said he wanted to getthat heavy feeling off his shoulders, which he got at the religiousprocession, and wanted me to suggest something devilish that we coulddo, and I told him we better go and see the "Catacombs. " He wantedto know if it was anything like "a trip to Chinatown, " or the "BlackCrook, " and I told him it was worse. Then he asked me if there was muchlow neck and long stockings in the "Catacombs, " and I told him there wasa plenty, and he said he was just ripe to see that kind of a show, andso we took a carriage for the "Catacombs, " and dad could hardly keepstill till we got there. 

I suppose I ought to be killed for fooling dad, but he craved forexcitement, and he got it. The "Catacombs" are where Roman citizens havebeen buried for thousands of years, in graves hewn out of solid rock, and they are petrified, and after they have laid in the graves for afew hundred years, the mummified bodies are taken out and stood up incorners, if the bodies will hang together, and if not the bones arepiled up around for scenery. 

We had to take torches to go in, and we wandered through corridors, gazing at the remains, until dad asked one of the men with us what itall meant, and the man said it was the greatest show on earth. Dad beganto think he was nutty, and when I laughed, and said: "That is great, "and clapped my hands, and said: "Encore, " dad stopped and said:"Hennery, this is no leg show, this is a morgue, " but to cheer him up Itold him his head must be wrong, and I pointed to about a hundred driedcorpses, a thousand years old, in a corner, with grinning skulls allaround, and told him that was the ballet, and told him to look at theleading dancer, and asked him if she wasn't a beaut, from Butte, Mont. , and that killed dad. He leaned against me, and said his eyes must havegone back on him, because everything looked dead to him. I told him hewould get over it after awhile, and to stay where he was while I wentand spoke to one of the ballet that was beckoning to me, and I left himthere, dazed, and went around a corner and hid. 

People were coming along with torches all the time, looking at thecatacombs and reading the inscriptions cut in the rock, and after awhileI went back to where I left dad, and he was gone, but after awhile Ifound him standing up with the stiffs. He was glad to see me, and wantedto know if I thought he was' dead. I told him I was sure he was alive, though he had a deathly look on his face. 

[Illustration: He would break me up into bones, and throw me into a pile246]

"Well, sir, " says dad, "I thought it was all over with me, after youleft, for a man came along and moved me around, and took hold under myarms and jumped me along here by these stiffs, and told me if I didn'tstay where I belonged he would break me up into bones, and throw me intoa pile, and I thought I would have to do as the Romans do and stay here, and before the man left me he reached into my pocket and took my money, and said I couldn't spend any money in there where I was going to stayfor a million years, and, by gosh, I was so petrified I couldn't stophim from robbing me. Say, Hennery, they will rob you anywhere, even inthe grave, and if this Catacomb show is over, and the curtain has gonedown, I want to get out of here, and go to the Coliseum or the Romanamphitheater, where the wild beasts eat people alive. " And so we leftthe Catacombs and went back to town, and dad began to show life again. Say, you tell the folks at home that dad is gaining every day, and hisvacation is doing him good. He has promised to kill me for taking him tothe Catacomb show, but dad never harbors revenge for long, and I guessyour little nephew will pull through. I wish I had my skates, cause dadwants to go to Russia. 

Yours, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XX. 

 The Bad Boy Tells About the Land of the Czar and the Trouble They Had to Get There--Dad Does a Stunt and Mixes It Up with the People and Soldiers. 

St. Petersburg, Russia. --My Dear Groceryow-ski: Well, sir, I 'sposeyou will be surprised to hear from me in Russia, but there was no usetalking when Dad said he was going to St. Petersburg if it was the lastact of his life. He got talking with a Japaneser in Rome and the Japsaid the war in the far east would last until every Russian was killed, unless America interfered to put a stop to it, and as Roosevelt didn'tappear to have sand enough to offer his services to the czar, what itneeded was for some representative American citizen who was brave andhad nerve to go to St. Petersburg and see the czarovitch and give himthe benefit of a good American talk. The Jap said the American whobrought about peace, by a few well chosen remarks, would be the greatestman of the century, and would live to be bowed down to by kings andemperors and all the world would doff hats to him. 

At first dad was a little leary about going on such a mission withoutcredentials from Washington, but as luck would have it, he met an exiledRussian at a restaurant, who told dad that he reminded him of Gen. Grant, because dad had a wart on the side of his nose, and he tolddad that Russia would keep on fighting until every Japanese was killedunless some distinguished American should be raised up who deemed ithis duty to go to St. Petersburg and see the Little Father, and inthe interest of humanity advise the czar to call a halt before he hadexterminated the whole yellow race. Dad asked the Russian if he thoughtthe czar would grant an audience to an American of eminence in his owncountry, and the Russian told dad that Nicholas just doted on Americans, and that there was hardly ever an American ballet dancer that went toRussia but what the czar sent for her to come and see him and dancebefore the grand dukes, and he always gave them jewels and cans ofcaviar as souvenirs of their visit. 

[Illustration: The Russian told dad that Nicholas just doted onAmericans 250]

Dad thought it over all night, and the next morning we started forRussia and I wish we had joined an expedition to discover the North Poleinstead of coming here. Say, it is harder to get into Russia than itwould be to get out of a penitentiary at home. At the frontier we weremet by guards on horseback and on foot, policemen, detectives and othergrafters, who took our passports and money, and one fellow made meexchange my socks with him. Then they imprisoned us in a stable withsome cows until they could hold a coroner's inquest on our passports anddivide our money. We slept with the cows the first night in Russia, andI do not want to sleep again with animals that chew cuds all night, andget up half a dozen times to hump up their backs and stretch and bellow. We never slept a wink, and could look out through the cracks in thestable and see the guards shaking dice for our money. 

[Illustration: See the guards shaking dice for our money 253]

Finally they looked at the great seal on our passports and saw it was anAmerican document, and they began to turn pale, as pale as a Russiancan get without using soap, and when I said, "Washington, embassador, minister plenipotentiary, Roosevelt, Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight, EPluribus Unum, whoopla, San Juan Hill, " and pointed to dad, who was justcoming out of the stable, looking like Washington at Valley Forge, theguards and other robbers bowed to dad, gave him a bag full of Russianmoney in place of that which they had taken away, and let us take afreight train for St. Petersburg, and they must have told the train menwho we were, because everybody on the cars took off their hats to us, and divided their lunch with us. 

Dad could not understand the change in the attitude of the peopletowards us until I told him that they took him for a distinguishedAmerican statesman, and that as long as we were in Russia he must tryto look like George Washington and act like Theodore Roosevelt, so everylittle while dad would stand up in the aisle of the car and pose likeGeorge Washington and when anybody gave him a sandwich or a cigarettehe would show his teeth and say, "Deelighted, " and all the way to St. Petersburg dad carried out his part of the programme and we were notrobbed once on the trip, but dad tried to smoke one of the cigarettesthat was given him by a Cossack, and he died in my arms, pretty near. 

They make cigarettes out of baled hay that has been used for beddingsand covered with paper that has been used to poison flies. I neversmelled anything so bad since they fumigated our house by the board ofhealth after the hired girl had smallpox. 

Well, we got to St. Petersburg in an awful time, and went to a hotel, suspected by the police, and marked as undesirable guests by theCossacks, and winked at by the walking delegates and strikers, whothought we were non-union men looking for their jobs. 

The next day the religious ceremony of "blessing the Neva" took place, where all the population gets out on the bank of the river, withovershoes on, and fur coats, and looks down on the river, covered withice four feet thick, and the river is blessed. In our country the peoplewould damn a river that had ice four feet thick, but in Russia theybless anything that will stand it. We got a good place on the bank ofthe river, with about a million people who had sheepskin coats on, and who steamed like a sheep ranch, and were enjoying the performance, looking occasionally at the Winter palace, where the czar was peekingout of a window, wondering from which direction a bomb would come toblow him up, when a battery of artillery across the river startedto fire a salute, and then the devil was to pay. It seems that thegentlemen who handled the guns, and who were supposed to fire blankcartridges into the air, put in loaded cartridges, filled with grapeshot, and took aim at the Winter palace, and cut loose at Mr. Czar. 

Well, you would have been paralyzed to see the change that came overthat crowd, blessing the river one minute and damning the czar and thegrand dukes the next. The shot went into the Winter palace and tore thefurniture and ripped up the ceiling of the room the czar was in, and ina moment all was chaos, as though every Russian knew the czar was to beassassinated at that particular moment, and all rushed toward the Winterpalace as though they expected pieces of the Little Father would bethrown out the window for them to play football with. For a people whoare supposed to be lawful and law-abiding, and who love their rulers, itseemed strange to see them all so tickled when they thought he was blownhigher than a kite by his own soldiers. 

Dad and I started with the crowd for the Winter palace, and then we hada taste of monarchial government. The crowd was rushing over us and dadgot mad and pulled off his coat and said he could whip any confoundedforeigner that rubbed against him with a sheepskin coat on, and he wasjust on the point of smiting a fellow with whiskers that looked likescrambled bristles off a black hog when a regiment of Cossacks came downon the crowd, riding horses like a wild west show, and with whips intheir hands, with a dozen lashes to each whip, and they began to lashthe crowd and ride over them, while the people covered their faces withtheir arms, and run away, afraid of the whips, which cut and wound andkill, as each lash has little lead bullets fastened to them and a strokeof the whip is like being shot with buck shot or kicked with a frozenboot. 

[Illustration: a Cossack rode right up to him and lashed him over theback 258]

Well, sir, dad was going to show the Cossacks that he was pretty near anAmerican citizen and didn't propose to be whipped like a school boy bya teacher that looked like a valentine, so he tried to look like GeorgeWashington defying the British, but it didn't work, for a Cossack roderight up to him and lashed him over the back (and about 15 buck shot inhis whip took dad right where the pants are tight when you bend over topick up something) and the Cossack laughed when dad straightened up andstarted to run. I never saw such a change in a man as there was in dad. He started for our hotel, and as good a sprinter as I am I couldn'tkeep up with him, but I kept him in sight. Before we got to the hotela sledge came along, not an "old sledge, " such as you play with cards, high-low-Jack-game, but a sort of a sleigh, with three horses abreast, and I yelled to dad to take a hitch on the sledge, and he grabbed onwith his feet on the runners, and a man in the sledge with a uniformon, who seemed to be a grand duke, 'cause everybody was chasing himand yelling to head him off, hit dad in the nose with the butt of arevolver, and dad fell off in the snow and the crowd that was chasingthe grand duke picked dad up and carried him on their shoulders becausethey thought he had tried to assassinate the duke, and we were escortedto our hotel by the strikers. 

[Illustration: Hit dad in the nose with the butt of a revolver 255]

We didn't know what they were, but you can tell the laboring men herebecause they wear blouses and look hungry, and when they left us thelandlord notified the police that suspicious characters were at thehotel, and came there escorted by the mob, and the police surrounded thehouse and dad went to our room and used witch hazel on himself wherethe Cossack hit him with the loaded whip. He says Russia will pay prettydear for that stroke of the whip by the Cossack, and I think dad isgoing to join the revolution that is going to be pulled off next Sunday. 

They are going to get about a million men to take a petition to theczar, workingmen and anarchists, and dad says he is going as an Americananarchist who is smarting from injustice, and I guess no native issmarting more than dad is, 'cause he has to stand up to eat and lie onhis stummick to sleep. There is going to be a hades of a time here inSt. Petersburg this next week, and dad and I are going to be in it clearup to our necks. 

Dad has given up trying to see the czar about stopping the war and saysthe czar and the whole bunch can go plum (to the devil) and he will diewith the mob and follow a priest who is stirring the people to revolt. 

Gee, I hope dad will not get killed here and be buried in a trench witha thousand Russians, smelling as they do. 

I met a young man from Chicago, who is here selling reapers for theharvester trust, and he says if you are once suspected of havingsympathy with the working people who are on a strike you might just aswell say your prayers and take rough on rats, 'cause the Cossacks willget you, and he would advise me and dad to get out of here pretty quick, but when I told dad about it he put one hand on his heart and the otheron his pants and said "Arnica, arnica, arnica!" and the police thatwere on guard near his room thought he meant anarchy, and they sent fourdetectives to stay in dad's room. 

The people here, the Chicago young man told me, think the Cossacks arehuman hyenas, that they have had their hearts removed by a surgicaloperation when young, and a piece of gizzard put in in place of theheart, and that they are natural murderers, the sight of blood actingon them the same as champagne on a human being, and that but for theCossacks Russia would have a population of loving subjects that wouldmake it safe for the Little Father to go anywhere in Russia unattended, but with Cossacks ready to whip and murder and laugh at suffering, thepeople are becoming like men bitten by rabid dogs, and they froth at themouth and have spasms and carry bombs up their sleeves, ready to blow upthe members of the royal family, and there you are. 

If you do not hear from me after next Sunday you can put dad's obituaryand mine in the local papers and say we died of an overdose of Cossack. If we get through this revolution alive you will hear from me, but thisis the last revolution I am going to attend. 

Yours, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

 Dad Sees a Russian Revolution and Faints--The Bad Boy Arranges a Wolf Hunt--Dad Threatens to Throw the Boy to the Wolves. 

St. Petersburg, Russia. --My Dear Grocery-witz: Well, sir, dad and I havegot too much of Russia the quickest of any two tourists you ever heardof. That skirmish we saw, the day the Russians blessed the Neva, andshot blank cartridges filled with old iron at the czar, was not a markerto the trouble the next Sunday, when the working people marched to theWinter Palace, to present a petition to the "Little Father. "

We thought a revolution was like a play, and that it would be worthgoing miles to see. Dad was in South America once when there was arevolution, where more than a dozen greasers, with guns that wouldn'tshoot, put on a dozen different kinds of uniforms, and yelled: "Downwith the government, " and frothed at the mouth, and drank buttermilk andyelled Spanish swear words, and acted brave, until a native soldier withwhite pajamas came out with a gun and shot one of the revolutionistsin the thumb, when the revolution was suppressed and the next day therevolutionists were pounding stone, with cannon balls chained to theirlegs; and dad thought a revolution in Russia would be something likethat, and that we could get on a front porch and watch it as it wentby, and joke with the revolution, and throw confetti, like it was acarnival, but that Sunday that the Russian revolution was begun, we hadenough blood to last us all our lives. 

We got a place sitting on an iron picket fence, and we saw the peoplecoming up the street towards the Winter Palace, dressed mostly inblouses, and looking as innocent as a crowd of sewer diggers at homegoing up to the city hall to ask for a raise in wages of two shillings aday. Nobody had a gun, and no one would have known how to use a gun, and all looked like poor people going to prayers. There were troopseverywhere, and every soldier acted as though he was afraid somethingwould happen to spoil their chance of killing anybody. The snow on thestreets was clean and as white as the wings of a peace dove, and dadsaid the show was no better than a parade of laboring men at home onLabor day. 

Suddenly some officer yelled to the parade to stop, and the priestat the head of the procession, who was carrying a cross, slowed up alittle, like the drum major of a band when the populace at home beginsto throw eggs, but they kept on, and then the shooting began, and in aminute men, women and children were rolling in the snow, bleeding anddying, the marchers were too stunned to run, and the deadly guns kept onspitting fire, and the street was full of dead and dying, and then theCossacks rode over the dead and sabered and knouted the living, and asthe snow was patched with red blood, dad fainted away and fell off thepicket fence, and hung by one pant leg, which caught on a picket, andcrowds rushed in every direction, and it was an hour before I could geta drosky to haul dad to the hotel. 

[Illustration: Hung by one pant leg 264]

Dad collapsed when he got to the hotel, and I got a doctor and a nurse, and for two days I had to watch the revolution alone, while dad had fitsof remorse 'cause he brought me to such a charnel house, he said. 

Well, if you ever go anywhere, traveling for pleasure, do not go toRussia, because it is the saddest place on earth. I have seen no personsmile or laugh in all the ten days we have been here, except a Cossackwhen he run a saber through a little girl, and his laugh was like thecoyote on the prairie when he captures a little lamb. The people lookeither heart-broken or snarly, like the people confined in an insaneasylum at home. 

The czar, who a week ago was loved by the people, who believed if theywent to him, as to their God, and appealed for guidance, is to-day hatedby all, and instead of "Nicholas the Good, " since he scampered away to acastle in the country, and crawled under a bed, all the people call him"the Little Jack Rabbit, " and his fate is sealed, as a bomb will blowhim into pieces so small they will have to be swept up in a dustpan forburial, maybe before dad and I can get out of Russia. 

Going to St. Petersburg for a pleasant outing is a good deal likevisiting the Chicago stockyards to watch the bloody men kill the cattle, and the butchers in the stockyards, calloused against any feeling forsuffering animals, are like the soldiers here who shoot down theirneighbors because they are hired to do so. The murder of those unarmedworking men, that Sunday, has changed a helpless, pleading peopleinto anarchists with deadly bombs in their blouses, where they wereaccustomed to carry black bread to sustain life, and with the menace ofJapan in the far east and an outraged people at home, Russia is in abad way, and if I was the czar or a grand duke, I would find a woodchuckhole and arrange with the woodchuck for a furnished flat. 

I didn't think there was going to be anything going on in Russia exceptbloodshed and bombs, and things to make you sorry that you were here, and I was willing to take chloroform and let them carry me home in abox, with my description on the cover, until the doctor told me that dadwas in a condition of nervousness, that he needed something to happen toget his mind off of the awful scenes he had witnessed, and asked me if Icouldn't think of something to excite him and wake him up, and then dadsaid, after he got so he could go out doors: "Hennery, you have alwaysbeen Johnny on the spot when I needed diversion, and I want you to takeyour brain apart, and oil the works, and see if you can't conjure upsomething to get my blood circulating and my pores open for business, and anything you think of goes, and I swear I will not kick if you scarethe boots off of me. "

Well, that was right into my hand; and I set my mind to strike at fourp. M. I had been out riding once with the Chicago man, in a sledge, withthree horses abreast, all runaway horses, and the driver was a Cossackwho lashed the horses into a run every smooth place he found in theroad, and it was like running to a fire, so I got the Chicago fellowto go with me and we found the Cossack, and he was drunker than usual. There is a kind of liquor here called vodka, which skins wood alcoholand carbolic acid to a finish, and when a man is full of it he is so madhe wants to cut his own throat. This driver had put up sideboards on hisneck and had two jags in one, and we hired him by the hour. 

I told the Chicago man the circumstances and that I had got to get dadout of his trance, and he said he would help me. When I was out ridingthe day before I noticed that the road was full of great dane dogs, wolfhounds and stag hounds, which followed their master's sledges out inthe country, and the dogs loafed around, hungry, looking for bones, andfighting each other, so I decided to get the dogs to chase our sledgeand make dad think we were chased by wolves. I thought that would makedad stand without hitching, and it did. 

The Chicago man bought some cannon firecrackers, and I bought a cow'sliver, and hitched it to a rope, and hid it in the back seat, and myChicago friend and I took the back seat, and we got dad in the seatbehind the driver, and started about an hour before dark out in thecountry, through a piece of woods that looked quite wolfy. On the wayout the driver let his horses run away a few times, like you have seenin Russian pictures, and dad was beginning to sit up and take notice, and seemed to act like a man who expects every minute to be thrown overa precipice and mixed up with dead horses. Dad touched the driver onceon the coat-tail and told him not to hurry so confounded fast, and thedriver thought he was complaining because it was too slow, and he gavea Comanche yell and threw the lines into the air, and the horses justskedaddled, and run into a snow bank and tipped over the sledge, andpiled us out on top of dad, but dad only said: "This is getting good. "

[Illustration: Piled us out on top of dad 269]

We righted up, and dad wanted to know where all the pups came from thatwe had passed. I had been throwing out pieces of meat into the road fora mile or so, and the dogs were having a picnic. It was getting prettydark by this time, and we started back to town, and I threw out myliver, fastened to the rope, and the Chicago man, who had given thedriver a drink of vodka when we tipped over, told him, in Russian, thatwhen the dogs began to follow us, to get hold of the liver, to yell"wolves, " and give the team the rein, for a five-mile run, and yell allthe time, because we wanted to give the old gentleman a good time. 

Well, uncle, I would have given anything if you could have seen dad, when the dogs began to chase that liver, and bark and fight each other. The driver yelled something in Russian, and pointed back with his whip, the Chicago man said: "My God, we are pursued by a pack of ravenouswolves, and there is no hope for us, " and I began to cry, and imploreddad, if he loved me, to save me. 

[Illustration: Dad stood up in the sledge 267]

[Illustration: Pursued by a pack of ravenous wolves 271]

Dad stood up in the sledge and looked back, and saw the wolves, andhe was scared, but he said the only thing to do was to throw somethingoverboard for them to be chewing on while we got away, but he sat downand pulled a robe over his head and his lips were moving, but I do notknow whom he was addressing. 

The Chicago man touched off a couple of cannon firecrackers behind thesledge, but that only kept the dogs back for a minute, and dad saidprobably the best thing to do was to throw me overboard and let them eatme, and I said: "Nay, nay, Pauline, " and then I think dad fainted away, for he never peeped again until the team had run away a lot more, andI cut my liver rope, and when we got into the suburbs of St. Petersburgthe dogs had overtaken the liver, and were fighting over it. 

The driver had to pull up his horses as we struck the town, and dad musthave got a whiff of the driver's vodka, because he come to, and wegot to the hotel all right, and I thought dad would simply die in histracks, but the ride and the excitement did him good, and he wanted tobuy a gun and go out wolf hunting the next day, but our tickets werebought and we shall get out of this terrible country to-morrow. 

Dad woke me, up in the night and wanted to know if I saw him when hepulled his knife and wanted to get out and fight the pack of wolvessingle-handed. I am not much of a liar, but I told him I remembered itwell, and it demonstrated to me that he was as brave a man as the czar, "the Little Jack Rabbit, " as his people call him. 

Well, thanks to my wolf hunt, dad is all right again, and now we shallgo to some country where there is peace. I don't know where we will findit, but if such a country exists, your little Henry will catch on, ifdad's money holds out. 

Yours, covered with Gore. 

Hennery. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

 Dad Wears His Masonic Fez in Constantinople--They Find the Turks Sensitive on the Dog Question--A College Yell for the Sultan Sends Him Into a Fit. 

Constantinople, Turkey. --My Dear Old "Shriner"--We got out of Russiajust in time to keep from being arrested or blown up with a bomb. Dadwanted to go to Moscow, because he saw a picture once of Moscow beingdestroyed by fire by Napoleon, or somebody, and he wanted to see if theyhad ever built the town up again, but I felt as though something seriouswas going to, happen in that country if we didn't look out, and so Ipersuaded dad to go to Turkey, and the day we started for Constantinoplewe got the news that the Nihilists had thrown a bomb under the carriageof the Grand Duke Sergius and blew him and the carriage into smallpieces not bigger than a slice of summer sausage, and they had to sweephis remains up in a dustpan and bury them in a two-quart fruit jar. Wouldn't that jar you?

When dad heard about that you couldn't have kept him in Russia on a bet, and so we let the authorities have all the money we had, giving some toeach man who held us up, until we got out of the country, and then wetook the first long breath we had taken since we struck the Godforsakencountry of the czar. If the bombs hold out I do not think there willbe a quorum left in Russia in a year, either czars, dukes or anythingexcept peasants on the verge of starvation and workingmen who have notthe heart to work. I wouldn't take the whole of Russia as a gift, andhave to dodge bombs night and day. 

Say, old man, you never dreamed that I knew all about you and dadjoining the Masons that time, but I watched you and dad giving eachother signs and grips, and whispering passwords into each other's ears, in the grocery, nights, after you had locked up. I thought, at the time, that you and dad were planning a burglary, but when you both went to thelodge one night and stayed till near morning, and dad came home with ared Turkish fez and told ma that you and he had joined the shrine, whichwas the highest degree in Masonry, and you and he were nobles, and allthat rot, I was on to you bigger than a house, and you couldn't fool mewhen you and dad winked at each other and talked about crossing the hotsands of the desert. 

Well, dad brought his red fez along, 'cause I think he expected he wouldmeet shriners all over the world, that he could borrow money of. When westruck Constantinople and dad saw that every last one of the Turks worea red fez, he felt as though he had got among shriners, and he got hisfez out of his trunk and he wears it all the time. 

Dad acts as familiar with the Turks here as though he owned a harem. Wego to the low streets, about as wide as a street car, where Turks areselling things, with dad wearing his fez, and he begins to make motionsand give grand hailing signs of distress, and the Turks look at himas though he had robbed a bank, and they charge enormous prices foreverything, and dad pays with a smile, thinking his brother Masons arefairly giving things away. He looks upon all men who wear the fez as hisbrothers, and they look at him as though he was crazy in the head. 

The only trouble is that dad insists on talking to the women herewithout an introduction, and a woman in Turkey had rather die thanhave a Christian dog look at her. Dad was buying some wormy figs of amerchant, who was seated on the floor of his shop, and giving him signs, when a curtain behind the Turk was pulled one side and a woman withbeautiful eyes and her face covered with a veil, came out with a cup ofcoffee for the Turk. Dad shook hands with her, and said: "Your husbandand I belong to the same lodge, " and he was going to go inside and visitthe family, when the woman drew a small dagger out of the folds of herdress, and the Turk drew one of these scimeters, and it looked for amoment as though I was going to be a half orphan, particularly whendad put his hand on her shoulder and petted it, and smiled one of thosemasher smiles which he uses at home, and said: "My good woman, you mustnot get in the habit of jabbing your husband's friends with this crookedcutlery, though to be killed by so handsome a woman would indeed be asweet death, " but the bluff did not go, and the woman disappeared behindthe curtain, and dad had the frantic husband to deal with. 

[Illustration: When dad put his hand on her shoulder and petted it 276]

I have never seen a human being look as murderous as that Turk did ashe drew his thumb across the blade of his knife, drew up his lip andsnarled like a dog that has been bereaved of a promising bone by abrother dog that was larger. 

The Turk looked through his teeth, and his eyes seemed to act like smallarc lights, that were to show him where to cut dad, and dad began toturn pale, and looked scared. 

"Give him the grand hailing sign of distress, " said I as dad leanedagainst a barrel of dried prunes. Dad said he had forgotten the sign, and then I told him the only way out of it, alive, would be to buysomething, so dad picked up a little jim-crack worth about ten cents, and gave the Turk a five-dollar gold piece, and while the Turk wentin behind the curtain to get the change I told dad now was the timeto skip, and you ought to have seen dad make a sprint out the door andaround a corner, and up another street, while I followed him, and wegot away from the danger of being stabbed, but dad got his foot into itagain before we had gone a block. 

Nobody in Constantinople ever hurries, or goes off a walk, so when thepeople saw an old man, with a fez on his head, running amuck, as theysay here, followed by a beautiful boy, they began to crawl into theirholes, thinking dad was crazy, but when we were passing a sausage store, where about 20 dogs were asleep in the street, and dad kicked half adozen dogs and yelled, "get out, you hounds, " that settled it, and theyknew he was wrong in the head, and they yelled for the police, and wewere pulled for fast driving, and taken before a Turkish justice of thepeace, followed by the whole crowd. 

[Illustration: Get out you hounds 282]

The justice did not wear a fez, but had on a turban, so dad did not givehim any signs, but after jabbering a while they sent for an interpreter, who could talk pigeon English, and then dad had a trial, and I actedas his lawyer. I told about how dad had tried to be kind and genial toanother man's wife, and how, in his hurry to get away from the murderoushusband he fell over a mess of dogs, and that he was a distinguishedAmerican, who was in Turkey to negotiate a loan to the sultan. 

Say, that fixed them, and they all made salams to dad, and bowed allover themselves, and the justice of the peace prayed to Allah, and theinterpreter said we could go, but to be careful about touching a Turkishwoman or a dog, particularly a dog, as the Turks were very sensitive onthe dog question. So we went out of the courtroom and wandered aroundthe town, and you can bet that dad didn't look at any more women, thoughthey were everywhere with veils that covered their faces so nothing buttheir eyes could be seen. 

Gee, but you never saw such eyes as these Turkish women have. They arebig and black, and they go right through you, and clinch on the otherside. Dad says the facilities for getting into trouble are better inConstantinople than any place we have been, as the men look like banditsand the women look like executioners. Dad thanked me for helping himout of that scrape by claiming he was the agent of a financial syndicatethat wanted to lend money to the sultan. If I had said dad was acollecting agency, to make the sultan pay up, they would have sentencedhim to be boiled in oil. 

Well, we thought we had been in trouble before, but we are in it nowworse than ever. We heard at the hotel that at 11 o'clock in the morningthe sultan would pass by in a carriage, with an escort, on the way to amosque, to pray to Allah, and everybody could see the sultan, so we gota place on a balcony, and at the appointed time the procession came insight. It was imposing, but solemn, and the people on both sides of thestreet acted like they do in America when the funeral of a great man ispassing. No man spoke, and all looked as though they expected, if theymoved, to be arrested and have a stone tied to their feet and throwninto the Bosphorus, the way they kill one of the sultan's wives when sheflirts with a stranger. 

We watched the soldiers, and finally the carriage of the sultan came, and in it was a dried up man, with liver complaint, with a nose like aneagle, and eyes like shoe buttons. He looked as though death would bea relief, and yet he seemed afraid of it, and there was no sound ofwelcome, such as there would be if Roosevelt was riding down Michiganavenue at Chicago, on the way to the stockyards to pray to Armour, instead of to Allah. 

You could have heard a pin drop. I said: "Dad, this is too solemn, evenfor a sultan. Let's give him the university yell, and show that mummythat he has got two friends in Constantinople, anyway. " "Here she goes, "says dad, and we leaned over the railing, just as the sultan's carriagewas right in front of us and not ten feet away, and in that oppressivesilence dad and I opened up, "U-Rah-Rah-Wis-Con-Sin, zip-boom-Ah!"and then we started to sing, "There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old TownTo-Night. "

[Illustration: There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-Night 279]

Well, if any man in the crowd had touched off a bomb, there could havebeen no greater consternation. The sultan turned pale, as pale as soyellow a man could, and became faint, and fell over into the arms of ageneral who sat beside him, the Bazi Bazouks on horseback began to rideup and down the street, the crowd scattered, the sultan's carriage wasturned around and rushed back to the palace, with the ruler of Turkeyhaving a fit, and about a hundred soldiers came up on the veranda, wheredad and I had broke up the procession, and they lit on dad like buzzardson a dead horse, and took possession of the hotel, and began to searchour baggage. 

[Illustration: Another took me by the ear 285]

One Turk choked dad until his tongue hung out of his mouth, and anothertook me by the ear and stretched it out so it was long as a mule's ear, and they took us to a bastile and dad says it is all up with us now, because they will drown us like a mess of kittens in a bag, and allbecause we woke them up with a football yell in the wrong place. 

Well, we might as well wind up our career here as anywhere. Good-by, oldman. You will see our obituary in the papers. 

Your repentant, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Meet the Cream of the Harem--"Little Egypt" Does a Dancing Stunt--The Sultan Wants to Send Fifty Wives to the President. 

Constantinople, Turkey. --My Dear Grocer-pasha: When I wrote you lastI thought you would be in mourning for dad and I before this, as thereseemed nothing for the Turks to do but to kill us after we had stampededthe sultan and all his soldiers by giving them a university yell, butafter we had been confined in a sort of jail over night, dad and I hada heart to heart talk, and my diplomacy saved us for the time being. I told dad that what we wanted to do was to tell the Turks that dadrepresented the American people, and had a communication to make to thesultan personally, which would make him rich and happy. 

Well, say, they bit like a bass, and the next day they took us beforethe sultan at the palace. Dad dug up a package of blank gold miningstock in a mine that he was going to promote, though the mine was only asmall hole in the ground, and the stock had been offered for one cent ashare, the par value being a hundred dollars, so a man who got a sharefor a cent would, when the mine got to paying, get a hundred dollars forevery cent he invested. 

Dad filled out one of the stock certificates for 1, 000, 000 shares, whichwould represent a capital equal to all the debts of Turkey, and we wentbefore the sultan, and we couldn't have been treated better if wehad owned a brewery. Dad told his story to the sultan through aninterpreter, while I looked around at the gorgeous surroundings andtried to think of something to do to wake them up. 

Dad said he came right fresh from the American people, and wasauthorized by his mining company to present the sultan with untoldmillions, for pure love of the Turkish people, whom they had seen ridingand leading camels at the Chicago world's fair, and dad produced thestock certificate for 1, 000, 000 shares of stock in the Golden Horn GoldMining and Smelting company, and took out a handful of $20 gold piecesand showed them to the crowd as specimens of gold that came from ourmine. 

He said our people did not expect anything in return, but just desiredthe good will of the Turkish empire. He said that President Rooseveltdesired him to present his warmest regards to the sultan, and to invitehim to visit America, and if he would consent to do so, an American warvessel would be furnished for him and the white house would be turnedover to him for his harem, and dad said the president wanted himparticularly to impress upon the sultan that if he came he must bringhis folks, all his wives that would be apt to size up for beauty withour American women. 

[Illustration: He must bring his folks, and all his wives 289]

Well, you ought to have seen that sickly looking sultan brace up whendad handed him the millions of mining stock, and he grabbed the paperlike an old clothes buyer would grab a dress suit that a wife had soldfor 60 cents, belonging to her husband. He also wanted to see the goldthat dad had shown as coming from the mine, and when dad showed him theyellow boys he took them as souvenirs and put them in his girdle, andthen I thought dad would faint, but he kept his nerve like a pokerplayer betting on a bobtail flush. 

The sultan asked so many questions about America that I was afraid dadwould get all balled up, but he kept his nerve, and lied as though hewas on the witness stand trying to save his life. Dad told the sultan hewas authorized by the American people to inquire into the industries ofTurkey, and what he particularly desired was an insight into the harems, as a national institution, because many American people were graduallyadopting the customs of the orient, and he desired to report to congressas to whether we should adopt the customs of Turkey with her driedprunes and dates with worms in, and her attar of roses made of pig'slard; her fez, to cure baldness, and her outlandish pants and peaked redMorocco shoes, and her harems. 

The sultan said he would like to show us a little bunch of the cream ofthe harem, who would do a stunt in the way of dancing, to celebrate thegood feeling of the American people, and the visit of the distinguishedstatesman and gold miner to his realm, and dad said the sultan couldn'tturn his stomach with no cream of the harem, only they must keeptheir hands off him, and the sultan promised he should be as safe as a"unique, " whatever that is. 

Dad and I had hired knee breeches and things of a masquerade ball store, and we didn't look half bad when the crowd of shieks and things formed acrescent around the sultan, who sat in a sort of barber's chair withan awning over it, and they sounded a hewgag or something, and abouta dozen pretty fine looking females, dressed like the ballet in avaudeville show, came in and began to dance before the sultan. 

Dad stood it first rate until a girl got on the carpet barefooted andbegan one of those willowy sort of dances that nearly broke up theChicago fair, when people left the buildings filled with the work of theworld's artists, in all lines of progress, and went to the Midway in abody to see "Little Egypt, " but when this dancer waltzed up to dad andwiggled in a foreign language, dad sashayed up to her and I couldn'thold him back. 

[Illustration: He was just getting warmed up 293]

He was just getting warmed up to "balance to partners, " when a frowncame over the sultan's face and he looked cross at dad, and then thehewgag sounded, and the girls scattered out of a side door and dadwanted to follow, but I held him by the coat, and it was over. Ithink those girls were the only ones in the whole harem that were goodlooking. 

Dad breathed hard a little from his exercise, and said he was ready toinspect the stock, and the sultan detailed a tall negro, with a facedried up like a mummy, and we started out through the harem, dad pullingthe long hair on the side of his head over his bald spot, and throwinghis shoulders back and drawing in his stomach to make him look young. 

Well, say, there is nothing about a harem, much different from keepinghouse at home, except that there is more of it. The idea people get ofharems is that the women are all young and beautiful, and that they sitaround a swimming tank and play guitars and keep the flies off the manwho owns the place, while he smokes the vile Turkish tobacco burning ina jardiniere, through a section of rubber hose, and goes to sleep likea Chinaman smoking opium, and that they drink rare wines and dance withbangles on their legs and ropes of pearls on their necks and arms. 

I have seen alleged imitations of a Turkish harem on the stage, withAmerican girls doing the acting, and it would make you feel as thoughyou would invest in a harem when you got old enough, but, gee, when yousee a regular harem, run by an up-to-date Turk, you think of the Mormonapostle who has 40 wives of all ages, from 70 down to a 16-year-oldhired girl, with a hair-lip and warts on her thumbs. This harem was likea big stock barn in the states, with a big room to exercise the colts, and box stalls for the different wives and their families to live in anddo their own cooking and washing. 

Instead of sitting by a bath playing a harp, the poor old wives stand bya washtub and play tunes on the washboard, and scrub, and take careof children. I thought the custom of spanking children was an Americaninstitution, but it is as old as the ages, for I saw a Turkish mothergrab up a child that had lifted a kitten by the tail, and take it acrossher knee and give it a few with a red hand covered with soapsuds, andthe young Turk yelled bloody murder, just like an American kid, and thensat down on its knees, so the spanking wouldn't hurt, and called itsmother names in a language I couldn't understand, but I knew what thechild said, by instinct. Dad started to interfere, because he is amember of the humane society, but the unique that was showing us aroundsaved dad's life by pushing him along, before the woman got a chance tobrain him with the washboard. 

The women mostly had on these baggy Turkish trousers, like the Zouaveswear, and a jacket, and a cloth around their heads, and they acted asthough if the next meal came along all right they would be in luck. Wesaw a few women pretty white, and they were Circassian slaves, with bigeyes and hoops in their ears, and a little different clothes on, butthere were none that dad would buy at an auction, or at a bargain sale, if they were marked down to 99 cents. 

We passed one woman running an American sewing machine, and dad saidhe'd bet she was an American, and he went up to her and said: "Hello, sis!" She stopped the machine, looked up at dad with a sort of Boweryexpression, and said: "Gwan, Chauncey Depew, you old peach, or I'll haveyou pinched, " and the unique took dad by the arm and pulled him alongreal spry, but he hung back and looked over his shoulder at the woman, but she went on sewing, and dad said to me: "Well, wouldn't that frostyou?" And we went on making the inspection. 

I don't think I ever saw so many children, outside of an orphan asylum, all about the same size and all looking exactly alike. They all had thesame beady black eyes that look as though they were afraid of gettingcaught in a trap, like muskrats, and their noses had the same inquiringappearance, as though the owner was speculating as to how much moneythe visitors had in their pockets, and whether it was fastened in. Racesuicide is impossible in Turkey, but a race of bandits is growing upthat will let no foreigners with a pocketbook escape. 

It took us an hour to go through the harem, and it was more like goingthrough the quarters of the working women of a home laundry in thetenement district of a large city, than a comic opera, as we had beenled to expect by what we had read of harems. When we went into the haremI think dad was going to insist on having the women dance for him, whilehe sat on a throne and threw kisses at the most beautiful women in allthe world, but before we had got around all the box stalls I think ifany of them had started to dance dad would have stampeded in a body. 

We finally got back to the great marble room, where the sultan wassleeping in a stuffed chair, surrounded by his staff, and one of themwoke him up, and he asked dad what he thought of the home life of acrowned head, and dad said it beat anything he had ever seen, and heshould recommend to his government that the harem system be adopted inAmerica, and actually the sultan seemed pleased. He said as an evidenceof his love for America he wanted to present to the president, throughdad, 50 of his wives, and if dad would indicate where he wanted themdelivered, they would be there, Johnny on the spot, or words to thateffect. 

At first I thought dad would faint away, but I whispered to him that itwould be discourteous to decline a present, after giving the sultan agold mine, and that may be the old man would be so mad, if he declinedthe wives, that he would tie stones to our legs and sink us in theBosphor-ous, so dad rallied and said, on behalf of his government, hewould accept the kindly and thoughtful gift of his highness, and that hewould cable for a war vessel to take the wives to his own America, andhe would notify the sultan when to round them up and load them on thevessel. 

Well, sir, I do not know what possessed me to make a scene, before wegot out of the presence of the sultan, but it all came to me sudden, like an inspiration comes to a poet. I had been eating some fruit thatI bought in a paper bag, and when I had eaten the last of it, I wonderedwhat I would do with the bag, and then I thought what fun it would be toblow the bag up, and suddenly burst it, when all was still. So I blowedup the bag, so it was as hard as a bladder, and tied a string aroundthe neck, and waited. I did not think how afraid everybody in these oldcountries is of bombs, or I never would have done it, honestly. 

The sultan was signing some papers, and looking out of the corners ofhis eyes to see if anybody was present who was suspicious, and dad wasgetting ready to make a salam, and back out of the presence of the rulerof Turkey, when I got behind some of the officials who were watching thesultan, and I laid my paper bag on the marble floor, and it was as stillas death, and all you could hear was the scratching of the pen, when Ijumped up in the air as though I had a fit, and yelled "Allah, " and camedown with my whole weight on the paper bag, and of all the stampedes youever saw, that was the worst. 

[Illustration: Stampede 299]

You know what a noise it makes to bust a paper bag. Well, this was thetoughest old bag I ever busted, and it sounded like a cannon fired downcellar somewhere, and the air was full of dust, and before I could getup the sultan had tipped over the table and run yelling into anotherroom, praying to "Allah, " and all the staff had lit out for tall timber, and there was nobody left but dad and the unique and myself, and theunique took dad by the arm and started for the door, and we were firedout. 

As I went out of the room I looked around, and there was a Turk's headsticking out of every door to see how many had been killed by the bomb, and as we got out doors, dad said "Now we have to get out of Turkeybefore night, or we die. Me for Egypt, boy, if we can catch a boatbefore we are drawn and quartered. " So here goes for Cairo, Egypt. 

Yours only, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Arrive in Cairo--At the Hotel They Meet Some Egyptian Princesses--Dan Rides a Camel to the Pyramids and Meets with Difficulties. 

Cairo, Egypt. --My Dear Old Irish Vegetable: Gee, but you ought to seedad and I right now at a hotel, waiting for a chance at a room, whena bride and groom get ready to vacate it, and go somewhere else. Thishotel is full of married people who look scared whenever there is anew arrival, and I came pretty near creating a panic by going into theparlor of the hotel, where a dozen couples were sitting around makinggoo-goo eyes at each other, and getting behind a screen and, in adisguised voice, shouting, "I know all! Prepare to defend yourself!"

The women turned pale and some said, "At last! At last!" while othersgot faint in the head, and some fell on the bosoms of their husbands andsaid: "Don't shoot!" You see, most of these wives had husbands somewhereelse that might be looking for them. I have warned dad not to be seenconversing with a woman, or he may be shot by a husband who is on hertrail, or by the husband she has with her. 

Well, sir, of all the trips we have had anywhere, the trip fromConstantinople here was the limit. For two or three days we were ondinky steamboats with Arabs, Turks, negroes and all nationalitiescamping on deck, full of fleas, and with cholera germs on them bigenough to pick like blueberries, and all of the passengers were dirtyand eat things that would make a dog in America go mad. The dog biscuitthat are fed to American dogs would pass as a delicate confection onthe menu of any steamboat we struck, and I had rather lie down in a barnyard with a wet dog for a pillow and a cast-off blanket from a smallpoxhospital for a bed, than to occupy the bridal chamber of any steamboatwe struck. 

And then the ride across the desert by rail to reach Cairo was the worstin the world. Passengers in rags, going to Mecca, or some other place ofworship, eating cheese a thousand years old made from old goat's milk, and dug from the Pyramids too late to save it, was what surrounded us, and the sand storm blew through the cars laden with germs of the plague, and stuck to us so tight you couldn't get it off with sandpaper, andwhen we got here all we have had to do is to bathe the dirt off inlayers. 

[Illustration: It takes nine baths to get down to American epidermis304]

It takes nine baths to get down to American epidermis, and the last bathhas a jackplane to go with it, and a thing they scale fish with. But weare all right now, with rooms in the hotel, and rested, and when we gohome we are going to be salted down and given chloroform and shippedas mummies. Dad insists that he will never cross a desert or an oceanagain, and I don't know what is to become of us. Anyway, we are going toenjoy ourselves until we are killed off. 

The first two days we just looked about Cairo, and saw the congress ofnations, for there is nothing just like this town anywhere. There arepeople from all quarters of the globe, the most outlandish and the mostup-to-date. This place is an asylum for fakirs and robbers, a placewhere defaulters, bribers, murderers, swindlers and elopers are safe, as there seems to be no extradition treaty that cannot be overcome bypaying money to the officials. I found that out the first day, and tolddad we should have no standing in the society of Egypt unless the peoplethought he had committed some gigantic crime and fled his country. 

Dad wanted to know how it would strike me if it was noised about thehotel that he had robbed a national bank, but I, told him there wouldbe nothing uncommon or noticeable about robbing a bank, as half thetourists were bank defaulters, so he would have to be accused ofsomething startling, so we decided that dad should be charged withbeing the principal thing in the Standard Oil Company, and that he hadunderground pipe lines running under several states, gathering oil awayfrom the people who owned it, and that at the present time he was wortha billion dollars, and his income was $9, 000, 000 every little while, and, by ginger, you ought to see the people bow down to him. Say, commonbank robbers and defaulters just fell over themselves to get acquaintedwith dad, and to carry out the joke, I put some kerosene oil on dad'shandkerchief, and that clinched it, for everybody loves the smell of aperfume that represents a billion dollars. 

All the women wanted to dance with dad in the hotel dance, and becausethey thought I must be heir to all the oil billions, they wanted to holdme on their laps, and stroke my hair, as though I was it. I guess weare going to have everything our own way here, and if dad does notget eloped with by some Egyptian princess, I shall be mistaken. TheEgyptians are pretty near being negroes, and wear bangles in their ears, and earrings on their arms. You take it in the dark, and let a princessput her arms around you, and sort of squeeze you, and you can't tellbut what she is white, only there is an odor about them like "Araby theblessed, " but in the light they are only negroes, a little bleached, with red paint on their cheeks. If I was going to marry an Egyptianwoman, I would take her to Norway, or up towards the north pole, whereit is night all day, and you wouldn't realize that you were married toa colored woman. To be around among these Egyptians is a good deal likehaving a pass behind the scenes at the play of Ben Hur in New York, onlyhere the dark and dangerous women are the real thing, instead of beingwhite girls with black paint on. 

We have just got back from the pyramids, and dad is being treated forspinal meningitis, on account of riding a camel. I never tried harderto get dad to go anywhere on the cars than I did to get him to go to thepyramids by rail, as a millionaire should, but he said he was going tobreak a camel to the saddle, and then buy him and take him home for aside show. So we went down to the camel garage and hired a camel fordad, and four camels for the arabs and things he wanted for an escort, and a jackass for me. There were automobiles and carriages, andtrolleys, and everything that we could have hired, and been comfortablefor the ten-mile ride, but dad was mashed on the camel, and he got it. 

Well, sir, it was not one of these world's fair camels that lay down foryou to get on, and then got up on the installment plan, and chuck youforward and aft, but a proud Egyptian camel that stands up straight andmakes you climb up on a stepladder. 

Dad got along up the camel's ribs, when the-stepladder fell, and hegrabbed hold of the hair on the two humps, and the humps were loose andthey lopped over on the side, and it must have hurt the camel's feelingsto have his humps pulled down, so he reached around his head and took amouthful out of the seat of dad's pants, and dad yelled to the camelto let go, and the Arabs amputated the camel from dad's trousers, andpushed dad up on top with a bamboo pole with a crotch in it, and whendad got settled between the humps he said, "Let 'er go, " and we started. 

Dad could have had a camel with a platform on top, and an awning, but heinsisted on taking his camel raw, and he sat there between those humps, his trousers worked up towards his knees, showing his red socks and bluedrawers, and his face got pale from sea sickness, and the red, white andblue colors made me think of a fourth of July at home. We went out oftown like a wild west show, and dad seemed happy, except that every timean automobile went whizzing along, dad's camel got the jumps and waltzedsideways out into the sandy desert, and chewed at dad's socks, so partof the time dad had to draw up his legs and sit on one hump and put hisshoes on the other hump. The Arabs on the other camels would ride upalongside and steer dad's camel back into the road, by sticking sharpsticks into the camel, and the animal would yawn and groan and make upfaces at me on my jackass, and finally dad wanted to change works withme and ride my jackass, but I told him we had left the stepladder backat Cairo, so dad hung to his mountainous steed, but the dust blew soyou couldn't see, and it was getting monotonous when the queerest thinghappened. 

You have heard that camels can fill up with water and go for a weekwithout asking for any more. Well, I guess the week was up, and it wastime to load the camels with water, for as we came to the Nile everylast camel made a rush for the river, and they went in like a yoke ofoxen on a stampede, and waded in clear up to the humps, and began todrink, and dad yelled for a life preserver and pulled his feet up on topand sat there like a frog on a pond lily leaf. 

[Illustration: Sat there like a frog on a pond lily leaf 308]

My jackass only stepped his feet in the edge, and dad wanted me to swimmy jackass out to the camel and let him fall off onto the jack, but Iknew dad would sink my jack in a minute, and I wouldn't go in the river. Well, the camels drank about an hour, with dad sitting there meditating, and then the dragomen got them out, and we started off for the pyramids, which were in plain sight like the pictures you have seen, with palmtrees along the Nile, and Arabs camping on the bank, and it looked asthough everything was going to be all right, when suddenly dad's camelstopped dead still and wouldn't move a foot, and all the rest of thecamels stopped, closed their eyes and went to sleep, and the Arabs wentto sleep, and dad and the jackass and I were apparently the only animalsin Egypt that were awake. 

Dad kicked his camel in the ribs, but it wouldn't budge. He asked me ifI could't think up some way to start the procession, and I stopped myjackass and thought a minute, and told dad I had it. I had bought somegiant fire crackers and roman candles at Cairo, with which I was goingto fire a salute on top of the biggest pyramid, to celebrate for oldAmerica, and I told dad what I had got, and I thought if I got off myjackass and fired a salute there in the desert it would wake them up. 

Dad said, "all right, let 'er go, but do it sort of easy, at first, sonot to overdo it, " and I got my artillery ready. Say, you can't fire offfireworks easy, you got to touch a match to 'em and dodge and take yourchances. Well, I scratched a match and lit the giant fire cracker, andput it under the hind legs of dad's camel, and when it got to fizzingI lit my roman candle, and as the fire cracker exploded like a 16-inchgun, my roman candle began to spout balls of fire, and I aimed one ateach camel, and the whole push started on a stampede for the pyramids, the camels groaning, the Arabs praying to Allah, dad yelling to stop'er, and my jackass led the bunch, and I was left in the desert to pickup the hats. 

[Illustration: Started on a stampede for the pyramids 311]

I guess I will have to tell you' the rest of the tragedy in my nextletter. 

Yours with plenty of sand, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad Climb the Pyramids--The Bad Boy Lights a Cannon Cracker in Rameses' Tomb--They Flee from Egypt in Disguise. 

Cairo, Egypt. --My Dear Old Geezer: I broke off my last letter in sightof the pyramids, when I was left alone on the desert, my jackass havingstampeded with the camels, on account of my fireworks, and I presumeyou think I was all in, but I got to the pyramids before the stampededcaravan did. I saw a car coming along, and I just got aboard and in tenminutes I was at the base of the big pyramid, and the camel with dad onbetween the humps, was humping himself half a mile away, trying to getthere, and the other camels, with the Arabs, were stretched out likehorses in a race, behind, and my jackass was right next to dad's camel, braying and occasionally kicking dad's camel in the slats. 

There were about a hundred tourists around the stampede of the camels, and I told them my the base of the big pyramid, all looking towards dad, the great American millionaire, was on the runaway camel in advance, andasked them to form a line across the trail and save dad, but when thecamel came nearer I was ashamed of dad. He had his arms around the fronthump of the camel, and he was yelling for help to stop his menagerie, and his legs were flying in the air, and every time they came down theykicked a hole in the side of the camel. 

[Illustration: I was ashamed of dad 319]

Well, sir, I thought dad was a brave man, but he blatted like a calf, and when the camel stopped and went to eating a clump of grass dadopened his eyes, and when he saw that the procession had stopped herolled off his camel like a bag of wheat, and stuck in the sand andbegan to say a prayer, but when he saw me standing there, laughing, hestopped praying, and said to me: "I thought you were blown up when thatjackass kicked the can of dynamite. You have more lives than a cat. Now, get a hustle on you and we will climb that pyramid, and then quitthis blasted country, " and dad sat down on a hummock and began to pullhimself together, after the most fearful ride he ever had. He said thecamel loped, trotted, galloped, single-footed and shied all at the sametime, and when one hump was not jamming him in the back the other humpwas kicking him in the stomach, and if he had a gun he would shoot thecamel, and the Arabs, and bust up the show. 

By the time dad got so he could stand up without leaning against apyramid the Arabs came up and they all talked at once, and drew knives, and it seemed as though they were blaming dad for something. We foundan interpreter among the tourists, and he talked with the Arabs, andpointing to the camel dad had ridden, which was stretched out on thesand like he was dead, he told dad the Arabs wanted him to pay for thecamel he had ridden to death, and foundered by letting it drink a wagonload of water, and then entered in a race across the desert, and theinterpreter said dad better pay, or they would kill him. 

[Illustration: Pay, or they would kill him 316]

Dad settled for the camel for a hundred dollars, and a promise of theskin of the camel, which he was going to take home and have stuffed. Then a man who pretended to be a justice of the peace had dad arrestedfor driving off of a walk, and he was fined $10 and costs for that, andthen all the Arabs stuck him for money for one thing and another, andwhen he had settled all around and paid extra for not riding back toCairo on the camel, we got ready to climb up the pyramid. Dad said hewouldn't ride that camel back to Cairo for a million dollars, for he wassplit up so his legs began where his arms left off, and he was lame fromGenesis to Revelations. 

But I never saw such a lot of people to pray as these pirates are. Justbefore they rob a man they get down on their knees on a rug, and mumblesomething to some god, and after they have got you robbed good andplenty, they get down and pray while they are concealing the money theytook from you. Gee, but when I get home I am going to steer the trainrobbers and burglars onto the idea of always being on praying grounds. 

Well, I told dad he hadn't better try to climb up the pyramid, that Iwould go up, 'cause I could climb like a goat, and when I got up to thetop I would fire a salute, so everybody would know that a star spangledAmerican was on deck, but dad said he would go up or quit the touristbusiness. He said he had come thousands of miles to climb the pyramids, and sit in the shadow of the spinks, and by ginger he was going to doit, and so we started. 

Well, say, each stone is about four feet high, and dad couldn't get upwithout help, so an Arab would go up a stone ahead, and take hold ofdad's hands, and two more Arabs would get their shoulders under dad'spants, and shove, and he would get up gradually. We got about half wayup when dad weakened, and said he didn't care so much about pyramids ashe thought he did, and he was ready to quit, but the guide and some ofthe tourists said we were right near the entrance to the great tomb ofthe kings, and that we better go in and at least make a formal call onthe crowned heads, and so we went in, through dark passages, with littlecandles that the guides carried, and up and down stairs, until finallywe got into a big room that smelled like a morgue, with bats and evillooking things all around, and I felt creepy. 

The guides got down on their knees to pray, and I thought it was time tobe robbed again. I do not know what made me think of making a sensationright there in the bowels of that pyramid, where there were corpsesthousands of years old, of Egypt's rulers. I never felt that way athome, when I visited a cemetery, but I though I would shoot my lastroman candle and fire my last giant firecracker right there in thatmoseleum, and take the chances that we would get out alive. So when thetourists were lined up beside a tomb of some Rameses or other, and theguides were praying for strength and endurance, probably, to get awaywith all the money we had, I picked out a place up toward the roof thatseemed full of bats and birds of ill omen, and I sneaked my roman candleout from under my shirt, and touched the fuse to a candle on the turbanof a guide who was on his knees, and just as the first fire ball wasready to come out I yelled "Whoop-la-much-a wano, epluribus un-um, " andthe fire balls lighted up the gloom and knocked the bats gaily west. 

Holy jumping cats, but you ought to have seen the guides, yelling Allah!Allah! and groveling on the floor, and the bats were flying around inthe faces of the tourists, and everybody was simply scared out oftheir boots. I thought I might as well wind the thing up glorious, soI touched the tail of my last giant firecracker to the sparks that wereoozing out of my empty roman candle, and threw it into the middle of thegreat room, and when it went off you would think a cannon had exploded, and everybody rushed for the door, and we fell over each other gettingout through the passage towards the door. 

I was the first to get out on to the side of the pyramid, and I watchedfor the crowd to come out. The tourists got out first, and then dad cameout, puffing and wheezing, and the last to come out were the Arabs, andthey came on their hands and knees, calling to Mr. Allah and every oneof them actually pale, and I think they were conscience-stricken, forthey began to give back the money they had robbed dad of, and an Arabmust be pretty scared to give up any of his hard-earned robberies. Ithink dad was about the maddest man there was, until he got some of hismoney back, when he felt better, but he gave me a talking to that I willnever forget. 

He said: "Don't you know better than to go around with explosives, likea train robber, and fire them off in a hole in the ground, where thereis no ventilation, and make people's ears ring? Maybe you have wokeup those kings and queens in there, and changed a dynasty, you littleidiot. " The rest of the crowd wanted to throw me down the side of thepyramid, but I got away from them and went up on top of the pyramid andhoisted a small American flag, and left it floating there, and then cameback to where the crowd was discussing the explosion in the tomb, andthen we all went down the side of the pyramid. 

The guides got their nerve back after they got out in the air, becausethey wouldn't help dad down unless he paid them something every stonethey helped him climb down, so when he got down he didn't have anymoney, and hardly any pants, because what pants the Arabs didn't tearwere worn off on the stones, so when he showed up in front of the spinkshe was a sight, and he bought a turban of a guide and unwound it andwound it around him in place of pants. I was ashamed of dad myself, andit is pretty hard to make me ashamed. 

We went back to Cairo on the cars, and what do you think, that deadcamel that the Arabs made dad pay for was with the caravan going backto town, 'cause we saw him out of the car window with the hair wore offwhere dad kicked him in the side. The tourists say the Arabs have thatcamel trained to die every day when they get to the pyramids, and theymake some tenderfoot pay for him at the end of each journey. Dad isgoing to try to get his money back from the Egyptian government, but Iguess he will never realize on his claim. 

Well, sir, after dad had doctored all night to get the camel rheumatismand spinal meningitis out of his system, we took a trip by boat on theNile, and saw the banks where the people grow crops by irrigation, andwhere an English syndicate has built a big dam, so the whole valley canbe irrigated, and I tell you it will not be long before Egypt will raiseeverything used in the world on that desert, and every other countrythat raises food to sell will be busted up in business, but it isdisgusting to take a trip on the Nile, 'cause all the natives are dirtyand sick with contagious diseases, and they are lazy and crippled, andbeg for a living, and if you don't give them something they steal allyou got. You are in luck if you get away without having leprosy, or theplague, or cholera, or fleas. 

So we went back to Cairo, and there was the worst commotion you eversaw, about my fireworks in the tomb. The papers said that an Americandynamiter had attempted to blow up the great pyramid, and takepossession of the country and place it under the American flag, and thatthe conspirators were spotted and would be arrested and put in irons assoon as they got back from a trip on the Nile. 

Well, sir, dad found his career would close right here, and that hewould probably spend the balance of his life in an Egyptian prison ifwc didn't get out, so we made a sneak and got into our hotel, boughtdisguises and are going to get out of here tonight, and try to get toGibraltar, or somewhere in sight of home. Dad is disguised as a shiek, with whiskers and a white robe, like a bath robe, and I am going totravel with him as an Egyptian girl till we get through the Suez canal. 

[Illustration: Dad is disguised as a shiek 323]

Gee, but I wouldn't be a nigger girl only to save dad. 

Your innocent, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

 The Bad Boy Writes About Gibraltar--The Irish-English Army-- How He Would Take the Fortress--Dad Wants to Buy the "Rock. "

Gibraltar, in Spain and England. My Dear Foster Uncle: It seems goodto get somewhere that you can hear the English language spoken by theIrish, and the English soldiers are nearly all Irish. When you think ofthe way the British government treats the Irish, and then you look onwhile an orderly sergeant calls the roll of a company, and find thatnine out of ten answer to Irish names, and only one out of ten has thecockney accent, you feel that the Irish ought to rule England, and anO'Rourke or a O'Shaunnessy should take the place of King Edward. Itmakes a boy who was brought up in an Irish ward in America feel like hewas at home to mix with British soldiers who come from the old sod. Dad says that there is never an army anywhere in the world, except thearmies of Russia and Japan, that the bravest men are not answering toIrish names, and always on the advance in a fight, or in the rear whenthere is a retreat. Dad says that in our own army, when the North andSouth were fighting, the Irish boys were the fellows who saved theday. They wanted to fight nights and Sundays, and never struck for aneight-hour day, or union wages. When the fighting was over, and soldierswere sick, or discouraged, and despondent, an Irish soldier would comealong, maybe on crutches, or with a bullet in his inwards, and tellfunny stories and make the discouraged fellows laugh in spite ofthemselves, and when another fight was on, you had to tie the woundedIrish soldiers to their cots in the hospital, or put them in jail tokeep them from forgetting their wounds, and going to the front for onemore fight. Dad says if there was an Irish nation with an army and navy, the whole world would have to combine to whip them, and yet the nationthat has the control of the Irish people treats them worse than SanFrancisco treats Chinamen, makes them live on potatoes, and allowslandlords to take away the potatoes if they are shy on the rent. Gosh, if I was an Irishman I would see the country that walked on my neck inhell before I would fight for it. (Gee, dad looked over my shoulder andsaw what I had written, and he cuffed me on the side of the head, andsaid I was an incendiary and that I ought to have sense enough not towrite treason while a guest on British soil. ) Well, I don't care adarn. It makes me hot under the collar when I think of the brave Irishfellows, and I wonder why they don't come to America in a body and bealdermen and policemen. When I get home I am going to join the Fenians, and raise thunder, just as quick as I am old enough. 

[Illustration: Keep away from the banks for fear the banks will cave in329]

Well, sir, we have been through the Suez canal, and for a great modernpiece of engineering it doesn't size up with a sewer in Milwaukee, ora bayou in Louisiana. It is just digging a railroad cut through thedesert, and letting in the water, and there you are. The only questionin its construction was plenty of dredging machines, and a place topile the dirt, and water that just came in of its own accord, and staysthere, and smells like thunder, and you see the natives look at it, andkeep away from the banks for fear the banks will cave in on them, andgive them a bath before their year is up, cause they don't bathe butonce a year, and when they skip a year nobody knows about it, exceptthat they smell a year or so more frowsy, like butter that has been leftout of the ice box. Our boat went right along, and got out of the canal, because it was a mail boat, but the most of the boats we saw were tiedup to the bank, waiting for the millennium. We saw some Russian boatswaiting for the war to blow over and as we passed them every Russian onboard looked scared, as though we were Japs that were going to fire atorpedo under them, or throw a bomb on deck, and when our boat got bythe Russian boat, the crew was called to prayers, to thank the Lord, orwhoever it is that the Russians thank, because they had escaped a direperil. I guess the Russians are all in, and that those who have not goneto the front are shaking hands with themselves, and waiting for the doveof peace to alight on their guns. The Suez canal probably pays, and nowonder, cause they charge what they please to boats that go through, andif they don't pay all they have to do is to stay out, and go around afew thousand miles. It is like a ferry across a little stream out west, where there is no other way to cross, except to wade or go around, andthe old ferryman sizes up the wagon load that wants to cross, and takesall they have got loose, and then the travelers are ahead of the game, cause if they didn't cross the stream they would have to camp on thebank until the stream dried up. Some day an earthquake will split thatdesert wide open and the water in the Suez canal will soak into thesand and the steamboats will lay in the mud, and be covered with a sandstorm, and future ages will be discovering full rigged ships down deepon the desert. Dad says we better sell our stock in the canal and buyair ship stock. And talk about business, there is more tonnage goesthrough the Soo canal, between Michigan and Canada than goes through theSuez and we don't howl about it very much. 

Well, sir, I have studied Gibraltar in my geography, and read aboutit in the papers, and seen its pictures in advertisements, but neverrealized what a big thing it was. Now, who ever thought of puttingthat enormous rock right there on that prairie, but God. I suppose theEnglish, when they saw that rock, thought the good Lord had put it therefor the English to drill holes in, for guns, and when the Lord wasbusy somewhere else, the English smoughed the rock away from Spain, byplaying a game with loaded dice, and when England got it, that countrydecided to arm it like a train robber, and hold up the other nations ofthe earth. When a vessel passes that rock it has to hold up its handsand salute the British flag, or get a mess of hardware fired into itsvital parts, but that is all it amounts to, cause it couldn't win anybattle for England, and could only sink trading vessels. The walls ofthe rock are perforated from top to bottom, with holes big enough forguns to squirt smoke and shells, but if the enemy should stay away fromright in front of the holes, they might shoot till doomsday and neverhit anything but fishing smacks and peddlers of oranges. Gibraltar islike a white elephant in a zoological garden. It just eats and keeps offthe flies with its short tail, and visitors feed it peanuts and wonderwhat it was made for, and how much hay it eats. Gibraltar is like atwenty-dollar gold piece that a man carries in his watch pocket for anemergency, which he never intends to spend until he gets in the tightestplace of his life, and it wears out one pocket after another, and someday drops through on to the sidewalk, and a tramp finds it and goes ona bat and gets the worth of his money, and has a good time, if he savesenough to buy a bromo seltzer the next morning after. It is like theRussian war chest, that is never to be opened as long as they can borrowmoney. If Gibraltar could be put on castors, and rolled around from onecountry to another, England could whip all Europe and Asia. It would bea Tro Jane horse on a larger scale, and be a terror; but, say, if it gotto America we wouldn't do a thing to it. We would run a standpipe up theside, and connect it with an oil pipe line, fill Gibraltar's tunnels andavenues, and magazines and barracks with crude oil, and touch a match toit, and not an Englishman would live to tell about it. Gee, but I wouldbe sorry for the Irish soldiers, but I guess they wouldn't be there, cause they wouldn't fight America. Well, if England ever has a big war, and she gets chesty about Gibraltar, and says it is impregnable, anddefies the world to take it, I bet you ten dollars it could be taken intwenty-four hours. If I was a general, or an admiral, I would have aboutforty tank steamers, loaded with kerosene, and have them land, innocentlike, right up beside Gibraltar, ostensibly to sell oil for perfumeryto the natives, who would all be improved by using kerosene on theirpersons. Then I would get on a barrel, on deck of my flag ship, andcommand the English general to surrender unconditionally, and if herefused I would set a slow match on every oil vessel, and have the crewsget in skiffs and pull for the opposite shore, and when the oil got onfire, and rolled up all over Gibraltar, and burned every living thing, Iwould throw water from a fire department boat on the rock, and she wouldsplit open and roll all over-the prairie, and then I would bury thecremated dead out on the desert, and seek other worlds to conquer, likeAlexander the Great. But don't be afraid. I won't do it unless they makeme mad, but you watch my smoke if they pick on your little Hennery toomuch, when he grows up. 

But I haven't got any kick coming about Gibraltar, cause they treateddad and I all right, and the commander detailed an ensign to show us allthrough the fortress. Now don't get an ensign mixed up with a unique, such as showed us through the Turkish harem. An English ensign is justas different from a Turkish unique as you can imagine. Every man to hisplace. You couldn't teach a Turkish unique how to show visitors aroundan English fortress, and an English ensign in a Turkish harem wouldbring on a world's war, they are so different. Well, wc went throughtunnels in the rock, and up and down elevators, and all was light as dayfrom electric lights, and we saw ammunition enough to sink all the shipsin the world, if it could be exploded in the right place, and they haveprovisions enough stored in the holes in the rock to keep an army forforty years if they didn't get ptomaine poisoned from eating cannedstuff. It was all a revelation to dad, and when we got all through, and got out into the sunlight, we breathed free, and when clad got hissecond wind he broke up the English officers by taking out a pencil andpiece of paper, and asked them what they would take for the rock and itscontents, and move out, and let the American flag float over it. Well, say, they were hot, and they told dad to go plum to 'ell, but dadwouldn't do it. He said America didn't want the old stone quarry, anyway, and if it did it could come and take it. I guess they would havehad dad arrested for treason, only when we got out into the town therewas the whole British Atlantic squadron lined up, with the men up in therigging like monkeys, and every vessel was firing a salute, as a yachtcame steaming by. Dad thought war had surely broke out, or that somerich American owned the yacht, but it turned out to be Queen Alexandriaand a party of tourists, and when the band played "God Save the Queen, "dad got up on his hind legs and sang so loud you would think he wouldsplit hisself, and a fellow went up and threw his arms around dad, andbegan to weep, and the tears came in dad's eyes, and another fellowpinched dad's watch, and the celebration closed with everybody gettingdrunk, and the queen sailed away. Say, we are going to Spain, on thenext boat, and you watch the papers. We will probably be hung for takingCuba and the Phillipines. 

Yours, Hennery. 

[Illustration: Sang so loud you would think he would split hisself 333]

CHAPTER XXVII. 

 The Bad Boy Writes of Spain--They Call on the King And the Bad Boy is at it Once More--They See a Bull Fight and Dad Does a Turn. 

Madrid, Spain. --My Dear Uncle: You probably think we are taking ourlives in our hands by coming to Spain, so soon after the Cuban war, inwhich President Roosevelt charged up San Juan Hill, in the face of overthirty bloodthirsty Spaniards, and captured the blockhouse on thesummit of the hill, which was about as big as a switchman's shanty, andwouldn't hold two platoons of infantry, of twelve men to the platoon, without crowding, and which closed the war, after the navy hadeverlastingly paralyzed the Spanish vessels, and sunk them in wet water, and picked up the crews and run them through clothes-wringers to drythem out; but we are as safe here as we would be on South Clark street, in Chicago. Do you know, when I read of that charge of our troops up SanJuan hill, headed by our peerless bear-hunter, I thought it was like thebattle of Gettysburg, where hundreds of thousands of men fought on eachside, and I classed Roosevelt with Grant, Sheridan, Sherman, Meade andThomas, and all that crowd, but one day I got talking with a veteran ofthe Spanish-American war, who promptly deserted after every pay day, andre-enlisted after he had spent his money, and he didn't do a thing to myideas of the importance of that battle. He told me it was only alittle skirmish, like driving in a picket post, and that there were notSpaniards enough there to have a roll call, not so many Spanish soldiersas there were American newspaper correspondents on our side, that only afew were killed and wounded, and that a dozen soldiers in an army wagoncould have driven up San Juan hill with firecrackers and scared theSpaniards out of the country, and that a part of a negro regiment didpretty near all the shooting, while our officers did the yelling, andhad their pictures taken, caught in the act. So I have quit talking ofthe heroism of our army in Cuba, because it makes everybody laugh andthey speak of Shaffer and Roosevelt, and hunch up their shoulders, andsay, "bah, " but when you talk about the navy, and Schley, and Sampson, and Clark, and Bob Evans, they take off their hats and their faces arefull of admiration, and they say, "magnificent, " and ask you to take adrink. Gee, but dad got his foot in it by talking about the blowing upof the Maine, and looking saucy, as though he was going to get even withthe Spaniards, but he found that every Spaniard was as sorry for thataccident as we were, and they would take off their hats when the Mainewas mentioned, and look pained and heart-sick. I tell you the Spaniardsare about as good people as you will find anywhere, and dad hasconcluded to fall back on Christopher Columbus for a steady dietof talk, cause if it had not been for Chris we wouldn't have beendiscovered to this day, which might have been a darn good thing for us. But the people here do not recall the fact that there ever was a mannamed Christopher Columbus, and they don't know what he ever discovered, or where the country is that he sailed away to find, unless they areeducated, and familiar with ancient history, and only once in a whilewill you find anybody that is educated. The children of America knowmore about the history of Spain than the Spanish children. This countryreminds you of a play on the stage, the grandees in their picturesquecostumes, though few in number, compared to the population, are thewhole thing, and the people you see on the stage with the grandees, inpeasant costume, peddling oranges and figs, you find here in the lifeof Spain, looking up to the grandees as though they were gods. Everypeasant carries a knife in some place, concealed about him, and no twocarry their toad stabbers in the same place. If you see a man reach hisfinger under his collar to scratch his neck, the chances are his fingerstouch the handle of his dagger, and if he hitches up his pants, hisdagger is there, and if he pulls up his trousers leg to scratch for aflea, you can bet your life his knife is right handy, and if you haveany trouble you don't know where the knife is coming from, as you doabout an American revolver, when one of our citizens reaches for hispistol pocket. Spaniards are nervous people, on the move all the time, and it is on account of fleas. Every man, woman and child contains morethan a million fleas, and as they can't scratch all the time, they keepon the move, hoping the fleas will jump off on somebody else. When wecame here we were flealess, but every person we have come near to seemsto have contributed some fleas to us, until now we are loaded downwith them, and we find in our room at the hotel a box of insect powder, which, is charged in with the candles. The king, who is a boy aboutthree years older than I am, is full of fleas, too, and he jumps aroundfrom one place to another, like he was shaking himself to get rid ofthem. He gets up in the morning and goes out horseback riding, and jumpsfences and rides tip and down the marble steps of the public buildings, as though he wanted to make the fleas feel in danger, so they willleave him. Seems to me if every man kept as many dogs as they do inConstantinople, the fleas would take to the dogs, but they say here thatfleas will leave a dog to get on a human being, because they like thesmell of garlic, as every Spaniard eats garlic a dozen times a day. Theyare trying to teach dogs to eat garlic, but no self-respecting dog willtouch it. We have had to fill up on garlic in order to be able to talkwith the people, cause dad got sea sick the first day here, everybodysmelled so oniony. Dad wanted a druggist to put up onions in capsules, like they do quinine, so he could take onions and not taste them, buthe couldn't make the man understand. There ought to be a law against anyperson eating onions, unless he is under a death sentence. But you canstand a man with the onion habit, after you get used to it. It is awoman, a beautiful woman, one you would like to have take you on yourlap and pet you, that ought to know better than to eat onions. Gee, butwhen you see a woman that is so beautiful it makes her ache to carry herbeauty around, and you get near to her and expect to breathe the odor ofroses and violets, that makes you tired when she opens her mouth to saysoft words of love, and there comes to your nostrils the odor of onions. Do you know, nothing would make me commit suicide so quick as to havea wife who habitually loaded herself with onions. Dad was buying somecandy for me at a confectioner shop, of a beautiful Spanish woman, andwhen he asked how much it was, she bent over towards him in the mostbewitching manner and breathed in his face and said, "Quatro-realis, seignor, " which meant "four bits, mister, " and he handed her afive-dollar gold piece, and went outdoors for a breath of fresh air, andlet her keep the change. He said she was welcome to the four dollars andfifty cents if she would not breathe towards him again. 

[Illustration: Breathed in his face 339]

Well, we have taken in the town, looked at the cathedrals, attended thesessions of the cortez, and thew gambling houses, saw the people sellthe staple products of the country, which are prunes, tomatoes and wine. The people do not care what happens as long as they have a quart ofwine. In some countries the question of existence is bread, but in Spainit is wine. No one is so poor they cannot have poor wine, and with winenothing else is necessary, but a piece of cheese and bread helps thewine some, though either could be dispensed with. In some countries"wine, women and song" are all that is necessary to live. Here it iswine, cheese and an onion. We went to see the king, because he is sucha young boy, and dad thought it would encourage the ruler to see anAmerican statesman, and to mingle with an American boy who could givehim cards and spades, and little casino, and beat him at any game. Imade dad put on a lot of badges we had collected in our town when therewere conventions held there, and when they were all pinned on dad'sbreast he looked like an admiral. There was a badge of Modern Woodmen, one of the Hardware Dealers' Association, one of the WholesaleDruggists, one of the Amalgamated Association of Railway Trainmen, oneof the Farmers' Alliance, one of the Butter and Cheese-men's Convention, one of the State Undertakers' Guild, and half a dozen others in brass, bronze and tin, on various colored ribbons. Say, do you know, when theyushered us into the throne room at the palace, and the little king, wholooked like a student in the high school, with dyspepsia fromoverstudy and cake between meals, saw dad, he thought he was the mostdistinguished American he had ever seen, and he invited dad up besidehim on the throne, and dad sat in the chair that the queen will sitin when the boy king gets married, and I sat down on a front seat andwatched dad. Dad had read in the papers that the boy king wanted tomarry an American girl who was the possessor of a lot of money, so dadbegan to tell the king of girls in America that were more beautiful thanany in the world, and had hundreds of millions of cold dollars, and anappetite for raw kings, and that he could arrange a match for the kingthat would make him richer than any king on any throne. The boy king wasbecoming interested, and I guess dad would have had him married off allright, if the king had not seen me take out a bag of candy and begin toeat, when he said to me, "Come up here, Bub, and give me some of that. "Gosh, but I trembled like a leaf, but I went right up the steps of thethrone and handed him the bag, and said, "Help yourself, Bub. " Well, sir, the queerest thing happened. I had bought two pieces of candyfilled with cayenne pepper, for April fool, and the king handed the bagto the master of ceremonies, a big Spaniard all covered over with goldlace, and if you will believe me the king got one piece of the cayennepepper candy, and that spangled prime minister got the other, and theking chewed his piece first, and he opened his mouth like a dog that haspicked up a hot boiled egg and he blew out his breath to cool his tongueand said, "Whoosh, " and strangled, and sputtered, and then the primeminister he got his, and he yelled murder in Spanish, and the kingcalled for water, and put his hands on his stomach and had a cramp, andthe other man he tied himself up in a double bowknot, and called fora priest, and the king said he would have to go to the chapel, and thefellows who were guarding the king took him away, breathing hard, andred in the face, and dad said to me, "What the bloody hell you trying todo with the crowned heads? Cause you have poisoned the whole bunch, andwe better get out. "

[Illustration: The king got one piece of the cayenne pepper candy 347]

So we went out of the palace while the king's retainers were filling himwith ice water. Well, they got the cayenne pepper out of him, because wesaw him at the bull fight in the afternoon, but for a while he had thehottest box there ever was outside of a freight train, and if he livesto be as old as Mr. Methuselah he will always remember his interviewwith little Hennery. The bull fights ain't much. Bulls come in thering mad as wet hens, cause they stick daggers in them, and they bellowaround, and the Spaniards dodge and shake red rags at them, and after abull has ripped a mess of bowels out of a few horses, then a man with asaber stabs the bull between the shoulders, and he drops dead, and thecrowd cheers the assassin of the bull, and they bring in another bull. Well, sir, dad came mighty near his finish at the bull fight. When thesecond bull came in, and ripped the stomach out of a blind horse, andthe bull was just charging the man who was to stab it, dad couldn'tstand it any longer and he climbed right over into the ring, and hesaid: "Look a here, you heathen; I protest, in the name of the AmericanHumane Society, against this cruelty to animals, and unless thisbusiness stops right here I will have this place pulled, and------"

[Illustration: Dad couldn't stand it any longer 343]

Well, sir, you would of thought that bull would have had sense enoughto see that dad was his friend, but he probably couldn't understand whatdad was driving at, for he made a rush for dad, and dad started to runfor the fence, and the bull caught dad just like dad was sitting in arocking chair, and tossed him over the fence, and dad's pants stayedon the bull's horns, and dad landed in amongst a lot of male and femalegrandees and everybody yelled, "Bravo, Americano, " and the policewrapped a blanket around dad's legs and were going to take him to theemergency hospital, but I claimed dad, and took him to the hotel. Dad isready to come home now. He says he is through. 

Yours, Hennery. 

[Illustration: Dad's pants stayed on the bull's horns 349]

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

 The Bad Boy and His Dad at Berlin--They Call on Emperor William and his Family and the Bad Boy Plays a Joke on Them All. 

Berlin, Germany. --My Dear Old Pummer-nickel: Now we have got pretty nearhome, and you would enjoy it to be with us, because you couldn't tellthe town from Milwaukee, except for the military precision with whicheverything is conducted, where you never take a glass of beer withoutcracking your heels together like a soldier, and giving a militarysalute to the bartender, who is the commander-in-chief of all who happento patronize his bar. Everybody here acts like he was at a picnic in thewoods, with a large barrel of beer, with perspiration oozing down theoutside, and a spigot of the largest size, which fills a schooner at oneturn of the wrist, and every man either smiles or laughs out loud, andyou feel as though there was happiness everywhere, and that heaven wasright here in this greatest German city. 

[Illustration: There is laughter everywhere 353]

There is laughter everywhere, except when the Emperor drives by, escorted by his bodyguard, on the finest horses in the world; thenevery citizen on the street stops smiling and laughing; all standat attention, and every face takes on a solemn, patriotic, almost afighting look, as though each man would consider it his happiest dutyand pleasure to walk right up to the mouth of cannon and die in histracks for his pale-faced, haggard and loved Emperor. And the Emperornever smiles on his subjects as he passes, but looks into every eye onboth sides of the beautiful street, with an expression of agony on hisface, but a proud light in his eye, as though he would say, "Ach, Gott, but they are daisies, and they would fight for the Fatherland with thelast breath in their bodies. "

The pride of the people in that moustached young man, with the look ofsuffering, is only equalled by the pride of the Emperor in every Germanin Germany, or anywhere on the face of the globe. There is none of the"Hello, Bill!" such as we have in America, when the President drivesthrough his people, many of whom yell, "Hello, Teddy!" while he showshis teeth, and laughs, and stands up in his carriage, and says, "Hello, Mike, " as he recognizes an acquaintance. But these same "Hello, Bill, "Americans are probably just as loyal to their chief, whoever he may be, and would fight as hard as the loving Germans would for their hereditaryEmperor. 

I suppose there is somebody working in Berlin, but it seems to us thatthe whole population, so far as can be seen, is bent on enjoying everyminute, walking the streets, in good clothes, giving military salutes, and drinking beer between meals, and talking about what Germany would doto an enemy if the ever-present chip on the shoulder should be knockedoff, even accidentally. But they all seem to love America, and when weregistered at the hotel, from Milwaukee, Wis. , U. S. A. , citizens beganto gather around us and ask about relatives at our home. They seem tothink that every German who has settled in Milwaukee owns a brewery, andthat all are rich, and that some day they will come back to Germany andspend the money, and fight for the Emperor. 

We did not have the heart to tell them that all the Germans in Milwaukeewere going to stay there and spend their money, and while their heartswere still warm towards the Fatherland, they loved the Stars andStripes, and would fight for the American flag, against the world, andthat the younger Germans spoke the German language, if it all, with aYankee accent. Gee, but wouldn't the people of Berlin be hot under thecollar if they knew how many Germans in America were unfamiliar with themake-up of the German flag, and that they only see it occasionally whensome celebration of German days takes place. 

Well, when dad saw the German Emperor drive down the great street, andgot a look at his face, he said, "Hennery, I have got to see thatyoung man and advise him to go and consult a doctor, " and so we madearrangements to go to the Palace and see the Emperor and his son, theCrown Prince, who will before long take the empire on his shoulders, ifWilliam is as sick as he looks. You don't have to hire any masqueradeclothes to call on the Emperor of Germany, like you do when you visitroyalty in Turkey and Egypt, for a good frock coat and a silk hat willtake you anywhere in the day time, and a swallowtail is legal tender atnight; so dad put on his frock coat and silk hat, just as he would togo and attend an afternoon wedding at home, and we were ushered in to aregular parlor, where the Emperor was having fun with his children, andthe Empress was doing some needlework. 

Dad supposed we would have to talk to the Emperor and the Prince throughan interpreter, and we stood there waiting for some one to break theice, when some one told the Emperor that an American gentleman and hisboy wanted to pay their respects, and the Emperor, who wore an ordinarydark suit, with no military frills, took one of the young Princes he hadbeen playing with across his knee and gave him a couple of easy spanks, in fun, and the whole family was laughing, and the spanked boy "tackled"the Emperor around the legs, below the knee, like a football player, and the other Princes pulled him off, and the Emperor came up to dad, smiling as though he was having the time of his life, and spoke to dadin the purest English, and said he was glad to see the "Bad Boy" man, because he had read all about the pranks of the Bad Boy, and bid dadwelcome to Germany, and he didn't look sick at all. 

[Illustration: And so this is the champion little devil of America 357]

Dad was taken all of a heap, and didn't know what to make of the GermanEmperor talking English, but when the ruler of Germany turned to me andsaid, "And so this is the champion little devil of America, " and pattedme on the head, dad felt that he had struck a friend of the family, and he sat down with the Emperor and talked for half an hour, while theyoung Princes gathered around me, and we sat down on the floor and theboys got out their knives, and we played mumbletypeg on the carpet, justas though we were at home, and all the boys talked English, and we hada bully time. The princes had all read "Peck's Bad Boy" and I think theEmperor and Empress have encouraged them in their wickedness, for theboys told me of several tricks they had played on their father, theEmperor, which they had copied from the Bad Boy, and it made me blushwhen they told of initiating their father into the Masons, the way mychum and I initiated dad into the Masons with the aid of a goat. 

I asked the boys how their dad took it, and told them from what we inAmerica heard about the Emperor of Germany, we would think he wouldkill anybody that played a trick on him; but they said he would standanything from the children, and enjoy it; but if grown men attemptedto monkey with him, the fur would fly. The Crown Prince came in and wasintroduced to me, and he seemed proud to see me, cause his uncle, PrinceHenry, had told him about being in Milwaukee, and how all the women inthat town were the handsomest he had ever seen in his trip around theworld, and he asked me if it was so. I referred him to dad, and dadtold him the women were the greatest in the world, and then dad madehis usual break. He said: "Look ahere, Mister Prince, you have got to bemarried some day, and raise a family to hand the German empire down to, and my advice to you is not to let them saw off on to you no duchess orprincess as homely as a hedge fence, with no ginger in her blood, butyou skip out to America, and come to Milwaukee, and I will introduce youto girls that are so handsome they will make you toe the mark, and ifyou marry one of them she will raise a family of healthy young royaltywith no humor in the blood, and you won't have to go off and be gay awayfrom home, cause an American wife will take you by the ear if youshow any signs of wandering from your own fireside, like lots of yourrelatives have done. "

Gee, but that made the Emperor hot, and he said dad needn't instill anyof his American ideas into the German nobility, as he could runthings all right without any help, and dad got ready to go, cause theatmosphere was getting sort of chilly, but the Emperor soon got overhis huff, and told dad not to hurry, and then he turned to me and said, "Now, little American Bad Boy, what kind of a trick are you going toplay on me, 'cause from what I have read of you I know you will nevergo out of this house without giving me a benefit, and all my boys expectit, and will enjoy it, the same as I will; now, let 'er go. "

I felt that it was up to me to do something to maintain the reputationI had made, so I said, "Your majesty, I will now proceed to make itinteresting for you, if you and the boys will kindly be seated in acircle around me. " They got into a circle, all laughing, and I took outof my pistol pocket a half pint flask, of glass, covered with leather, and with a stopper that opened by touching a spring, and I walked aroundin front of each one of the Royal family, mumbling, "Ene-mene-mony-my, "and opening the flask in front of each one, and pretty soon they allbegan to get nervous, and scratch themselves, and the Emperor slappedhis leg, and pinched his arm, and put his fingers down his collar andscratched his neck, and the Crown Prince jumped up and kicked his leg, and scratched his back, and said, "Say, kid, you are not hypnotizingus, are you?" and I said, "Ene-meny-mony-my, " and kept on touching thestopper. 

By and by they all got to scratching, and the Emperor turned sort ofpale, but he was going to see the show through to the end, as long ashe had a ticket, and he said, "What is the joke, anyway?" and I kept onsaying, "Ene-mene-mony-my, " and walking around in front of them, and dadbegan to dance around, too, and dig under his shirt bosom, and scratchhis leg, and then they all scratched in unison, and laughed, and alittle prince asked how long before they would know what it was allabout, and I said my ene-mene, and looked solemn, and dad said, "Whatyou giving us?" and I said, "Never you mind; this is my show, and I amthe whole push, " and everybody had raised up out of his chair and eachwas scratching for all that was out, and finally the Emperor said, "Ilike a joke as well as anybody, but I can't laugh until I know what I amlaughing about, " and he told dad to make me show what was in the bottle, and I showed the bottle and there was nothing in it, and there theystood scratching themselves, and I told dad we better excuse ourselvesand go, and we were going all right enough when dad said, "What is ityou are doing?" and as we got almost to the door I said, "Your majesty, I have distributed, impartially, I trust, in the Royal family ofGermany, a half a pint of the hungriest fleas that Egypt can produce, for they have been in that flask three weeks, with nothing to eat exceptthemselves, and I estimate that there were a million Cairo fleas inthe flask, enough to set up housekeeping in your palace, with enough tostock the palace of your Crown Prince when he is married, and this isthat you may remember the visit of Peck's Bad Boy and his Dad. "

[Illustration: Dad leaned against a lamp post and scratched his back364]

The Emperor was mad at first, but he laughed, and when we got out of thepalace dad leaned against a lamp post and scratched his back, and saidto me, "Hennery, you never ought to have did it, " and I said, "Whatcould a poor boy do when called upon suddenly to do something toentertain royalty?"

"Well, " says dad, "I don't care for myself, but this thing is apt tobring on international complications, " and I said, "Yes, it will bringPersia into it, cause they will have to use Persian insect powder to getrid of them, " and then we went to our hotel and fought fleas all night, and thought of the sleepless night the royal family were having. 

Well, so long, old Pummernickel. 

Your only, Hennery. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

 The Bad Boy Writes from Brussels--He and Dad see the Field of Waterloo and call on King Leopold and Dad and the King go in for a Swim--The Bad Boy, a Dog and some Goats do the rest. 

Brussels, Belgium. --Dear Old Skate: "What is the matter with our goingto Belgium?" said dad to me, as we were escaping from Germany. "Well, what in thunder do we want to go to Belgium for?" said I to dad. "I donot want to go to a country that has no visible means of support, exceptraising Belgian hares, to sell to cranks in America. I couldn't eatrabbits without thinking I was chewing a piece of house cat, and rabbitsis the chief food of the people. I have eaten horse and mule in Paris, and wormy figs in Turkey, and embalmed beef fried in candle greasein Russia, and sausage in Germany, imported from the Leutgart sausagefactory in Chicago, where the man run his wife through a sausagemachine; and stuff in Egypt, with ground mummy for curry powder, but Idraw the line on Belgian hares, and I strike right here, and shall havethe International Union of Amalgamated Tourists declare a boycott onBelgium, by gosh, " said I, just like that, bristling up to dad realspunky. 

"You are going to Belgium all right, " said dad, as he took hold of mythumb in a Jiu Jitsu fashion, and twisted it backwards until I fairlypenuked, and held it, while he said he should never dare go home withoutvisiting King Leopold's kingdom, and had a talk with an eighty-year-oldmale flirt, who had a thousand chorus girls on his staff, and could givethe Sultan of Turkey cards and spades and little casino in the haremgame. "You will go along, won't you, bub?" and he gave my thumb anothertwist, and I said, "You bet your life, but I won't do a thing to you andLeopold before we get out of the Belgian hare belt, " and so here we are, looking for trouble. 

It is strange we never hear more about Belgium in America, but actuallyI never heard of a Belgian settling in the United States. There areIrish, and Germans, and Norwegians, and Italians, and men of all othercountries, but I never saw a Belgian until to-day, and it does you goodto see a people who don't do anything but work. There is not a loaferin Belgium, and every man has smut on his nose, and his hands are blackwith handling iron, or something. There is no law against people goingaway from Belgium, but they all like it here, and seem to think there isno other country, and they are happy, and work from choice. 

"Began to sell dad relics of the Battle of Waterloo. "

I always knew the Belgian guns that sell in America for twelveshillings, and kill at both ends, but I never knew they made things herethat were worth anything, but dad says they are better fixed here formaking everything used by civilized people than any country on earth, and I am glad to be here, cause you get notice when you are going to berobbed. They ring a bell here every minute to give you notice that someone is after the coin, so when you hear a bell ring, if you hang ontoyour pocketbook, you don't lose. 

This is the place where "There was a sound of revelry at night, andBelgium's capitol had gathered there. " You remember, the night beforethe Battle of Waterloo, when Napoleon Bonaparte got his. You mustremember about it, old man, just when they were right in the midst ofthe dance, and "soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, " andthey were taking a champagne bath, inside and out, when suddenly theopening guns of Waterloo, twelve miles away, began to boom, and thepoet, who was present, said, "But hush, hark, a deep sound like a risingknell, " and everybody turned pale and began to stampede, when the floormanager said, "'Tis but the wind, or the car on the stony street, onwith the dance, let joy be unconfined, no sleep till morn, when youth andpleasure meet, to chase the glowing hours with flying feet. "

Well, sir, this is the place where that ball took place, which isdescribed in the piece I used to speak in school, but I never thoughtI would be here, right where the dancers got it in the neck. When dadfound that the battlefield of Waterloo was only a few miles away, hehired a wagon and we went out there. Well, sir, of all the frauds wehave run across on this trip the battlefield of Waterloo is theworst. When the farmers who are raising barley and baled hay on thebattlefield, saw us coming, they dropped their work and made a rush forus, and one fellow yelled something in the Belgian language that soundedlike, "I saw them first, " and he got hold of dad and me, and the reststood off like a lot of hack drivers that have seen a customer fall intothe hands of another driver, and made up faces at us, and called thefarmer who had caught us the vilest names. They said we would be skinnedto a finish by the faker who got us, and they were right. 

[Illustration: 368 began to sell things to dad]

He showed us from a high hill, where the different portions of thebattle were fought, and where they caught Napoleon Bonaparte, and whereBlucher came up and made things hum in the German language, and thenhe took us off to his farm where the most of the relics were found, andbegan to sell things to dad, until he had filled the hind end of thewagon with bullets and grape-shot, sabres and bayonets, old rustyrifles, and everything dad wanted, and we had enough to fill a museum, and when the farmer had got dad's money we went back to Brussels, andgot our stuff unloaded at the hotel. Say, when we came to look it overwe found two rusty Colt's revolvers, and guns of modern construction, which have been bought on battlefields in all countries, and properlyrusted to sell to tourists. I showed dad that the revolver was unknownat the time of the battle of Waterloo, and that every article he hadbought was a fraud, the sabers having been made in America, before thewar of the rebellion, and dad was mad, and gave the stuff to the porterof the hotel, who charged dad seven dollars for taking it away. 

Dad kept one three-cornered hat that the farmer told him Bonaparte lostwhen his horse stampeded with him, and it drifted under a barbedwire fence, where it had lain until the day before we visited thebattlefield. Say, that hat is as good as new, and dad says it is worthall the stuff cost, but I would not be found dead wearing it, cause itis all out of style. 

We have seen the King of Belgium, and actually got the worth of ourmoney. He is an old dandy, and looks like a Philadelphia Quaker, onlyhe is not as pious as a Quaker. Dad wrote to the King and said he wasa distinguished American, traveling for his health, and had a niece whohad frequently visited Belgium with an opera company, and she hadspoken of the King, and dad wanted to talk over matters that might be ofinterest both to Belgium and to America. Well, the messenger came backand said dad couldn't get to the palace a minute too quick, and so wewent over, and as we were going through the park we saw an old man, incitizen's clothes, sitting on a bench, patting the head of a boar hound, and when he saw us he said, "Come here, Uncle Sam, and let my dog chewyour pants. " Dad thought it must be some lunatic, and was going to makea sneak, and get out, when the man rose up and we saw it was the King, and we went up to him and sat down on the bench, and he asked dad if hehad come as the relative of the opera singer, to commence suit againstthe King for breach of promise, or to settle for a money consideration, remarking that he had always rather pay cash than to have any fuss madeabout these little matters. Dad told him he had no claim against him foralienating anybody's affections, or for breach of promise, and that allhe wanted was to have a little talk with the King, and find out how aKing lived, and how he had any fun in running the king business, at hisage, and they sat down and began to talk as friendly as two old chums, while the dog played tag with me. We found that the King was a regularboy, and that instead of his mind being occupied by affairs of state, or his African concessions in the Congo country, where he owns a fewmillion slaves who steal ivory for him, and murder other tribes, he wasenjoying life just as he did when he was a barefooted boy, fishing forperch at the old mill pond, and when he mentioned his career as a boy, and his enjoyments, dad told about his youth, and how he never got somuch pleasure in after life as he did when he had a stone bruise on hisheel, and went off into the woods and cut a tamarack pole and caughtsunfish till the cows came home. 

The King brightened up and told dad he had a pond in the palace grounds, stocked with old-fashioned fish, and every day he took off his shoes androlled up his pants, and with nothing on but a shirt and pants heldup by one suspender of striped bed ticking, he went out in a boat andfished as he did when a boy, with a bent pin for a hook, and he wasnever so happy as when so engaged, and they could all have their grandfunctions, and balls, and dinners, and Turkish baths, if they wantedthem, but give him the old swimming hole. "Me, too, " said dad, and asdad looked down into the park he saw a little lake, and dad held up twofingers, just as boys do when they mean to say, "Come on, let's go inswimming, " and the King said, "I'll go you, " and they locked armsand started through the woods to the little lake, and the dog and Ifollowed. 

[Illustration: Dad and Leopold make a rush for that swimming place 372]

Well, sir, you'd a dide to see dad and Leopold make a rush for thatswimming place. The King put his hand in the water, and said it wasfine, and began to peel his clothes off, and dad took off his clothesand the King made a jump and went in all over, and came up with his eyesfull of water, strangling because he did not hold his nose, and then dadmade a leap and splashed the water like an elephant had fallen in, andthere those two old men were in the lake, just like kids. 

[Illustration: I'll swim you a match to the other side 378]

"I'll swim you a match to the other side, " said the King. "It's a go, "said dad, and they started porpoising across the little lake, and thenI thought it was time there was something doing; so I got busy and tiedtheir clothes in knots so tight you couldn't get them untied without anact of parliament. They went ashore on the opposite side of the lake, cause some women were driving through the grounds, and then I founda flock of goats grazing on the lawn, and the dog and I drove them towhere the clothes were tied in knots, and when the goats began to chewthe clothes I took the dog and went back to the entrance of the park, and dad and the King swam back to where the clothes and the goats were, and when they drove the goats away, and couldn't untie the knots, theKing gave the grand hailing sign of distress, or something, and theguards of the palace and some cavalry came on the run, and the parkseemed filled with an army, and I bid the dog good-bye, and went back tothe hotel alone and waited for dad. 

[Illustration: When the goats began to chew the clothes 375]

Dad didn't get back till after dark, and when he came he had on a suitof the King's clothes, too tight around the stomach, and too long in thelegs, cause dad is pusey, and the King is long-geared. "Did you have agood time, dad?" says I, and he said, "Haven't you got any respect forage, condemn you? The King has ordered that you be fed to the animals inthe zoo. " I told him I didn't care a darn what they did with me; I hadbeen brought up to tie knots in clothes when I saw people in swimming, and I didn't care whether they were crowned heads or just plain dubs, and I asked dad how they got along when their clothes were chewed up. Hesaid the soldiers covered them with pouches and got them to the palace, and they had supper, he and the King, and the servants brought out a lotof clothes and he got the best fit he could. I asked him if the King wasactually mad, and he said no, that he always enjoyed such things, and wanted dad and I to come the next day and go fishing with him, barefooted. Say, dad can go, but I wouldn't be caught by that King on abet. He would get even, sure, cause he has a look in his eye like theyhave in a sanitarium. Not any king business for your little Hennery. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

 The Bad Boy's Delayed Letter about Holland and Cuba--Dad and the Boy go for a Drive in a Dogcart--They have a Great Time-- Land in Cuba and See the Island t we Fought for. 

Havana, Cuba. My Dear Old Greaser: We stopped in Holland for a couple ofdays after we left Belgium, and it was the most disappointing countrywe visited on our whole trip. We expected to be walked on with woodenshoes, and from what we had heard of that Duke that married QueenWilhelmina, we thought we were going to a country where men were cruelto their wives, and swatted them over the head when things didn't goright, but when we saw the queen riding with her husband, as free, fromostentation as a department store clerk would ride out with his cashgirl wife, and saw happiness beaming on the face of the queen and herhusband, and saw them squeeze hands and look lovingly into each other'seyes, we made up our minds that you couldn't believe these newspaperscandals. And when we saw the broad-shouldered, broad-chested andbroad-everywhere women of Holland we concluded that it would be a braveor reckless husband who would be unkind to one of them, and mightydangerous because the women are stronger than the men, and any womancould whip four men at the drop of the hat, because she could take offher wooden shoes and strike out and a man would think he had been hit bya railroad tie. 

Illustration: Any woman could whip four men at the drop of the hat 388

I do not know what makes Hollanders wear wooden shoes, unless they aresentenced to do it, or that they are unruly, and have to be hobbled, to keep them from jumping fences, but the people are so good and honestthat after you have met them you forget the vaudeville feature of theircostumes, and love them, and wish the people of other countries were ashonest as they. For two or three days we were not robbed, and I do notbelieve there is a dishonest man or woman in Holland, except one. Therewas one woman that played it on dad in Amsterdam, but I think she onlyplayed him for a sucker for a joke, for she laughed all the time. 

Dad was much struck at seeing the women selling milk from little carts, hauled by teams of big dogs, and he negotiated with a woman for a dogteam and cart, and all one day dad and I put on wooden shoes, and Dutchclothes and drove the dog team around town, and we had the time ofour lives, more fun than I ever had outside of a circus, but the shoesskinned our feet, and when the dogs laid down to rest, and dad couldn'ttalk dog language to make them get up and go ahead, he kicked the offdog with his wooden shoe, and the dog got up and grabbed a mouthful ofdad's ample pants and shook dad till his teeth were loose. 

[Illustration: Grabbed a mouthful of dad's ample pants 386]

A woman driving another mess of dogs had to come and choke the off dogso he wouldn't swallow dad, pants and all. Dad gave her a dollar forrescuing him, and what do you think? Say, she pulled an old stocking ofmoney out of her bosom and counted out ninety-six cents in change andgave it back to dad, and only charged four cents for saving his life, and that couldn't occur in any other country, cause in most places theywould take the dollar and strike him for more. 

Dad wanted to take the dog team and cart to Milwaukee to give it to afriend who sells red hot weiners, and so we arranged to have the teamloaded on the boat, but just before the boat sailed, the dog team waslying down on the dock, sleeping and scratching flees, when the womandad bought the team of came along and spoke to the dogs in Dutch, and, say, those dogs woke up and started on a regular runaway down the dock, after the laughing woman, and disappeared up the street. Just as theboat whistled to pull in the gang planks, dad and I stood on deck andsaw the team disappear, and dad said, "Buncoed again, by gosh, and it isall your condemned fault. Why didn't you hang on to that off dog. " Well, we lost our dog team, but we got the worth of our money, for we saw apeople who do not eat much beside cabbage and milk, and they are thestrongest in the world, and there never was a case of dyspepsia in theircountry. We saw a people with stone bruises on their heels and corns ontheir toes, smiling and laughing all the time. We met a people that workall the time, and never take any recreation except churning and rockingbabies, and yet never have to call a doctor, because there are nodoctors except veterinary surgeons, who care for dogs and cattle. 

The people we met in Holland wear wooden shoes to teach them patienceand humility. With wooden shoes no frenzied financier of Holland willever travel the fast road of speculation, slip on a bucket-shop bananapeel, and fall on the innocent bystander who has coughed up his savingsand given them to the honest financier to safely invest. 

The bank of Holland is an old woolen stock ing, and money never comesout of the stocking unless there is a string to it, and the string isthe heart string of an honest people, that will stand no trifling. If adishonest financier came to Holland from any other country, and did anyof his dirty work, the women of Holland, who handle the funds, wouldgive him such a hazing that he would never open his three-card montelay-out in any other country. 

It is a country where you get the right change back, and the cows giveeighteen carat milk, and the hens have not learned to lay small, coldstorage eggs. It is the country for me, if the women would wear corsets, and not be the same size all the way down, so that if you hugged a girlyou wouldn't make a dent in her, that would not come out until she gother breath. 

And we left such a country and such a people, to come here to Cuba, where the population now comprises the meanest features of the desperateand wicked Spaniards, beaten at their own game of loot, the trickinessof the native Cuban, flushed with pride because his big American brotherhelped him to drive away the Spaniard that he could never have gottenrid of alone, and with no respect for the American who helped, and onlymeets him respectfully because he is afraid of being thrown into theocean if he is impudent, and the worst class of Yankee grafters andhighway robbers that have ever been allowed to stray away from the landof the free. That is what Cuba is to-day. 

Soulless Yankee corporations have got hold of most of the branches ofbusiness that there is any money in, and the things that do not pay andnever can be made to pay, are for sale to tenderfeet. The cuban hatesthe Yankee, the Yankee hates the Cuban, and the Spaniard hates both, andboth hate him. In Havana your hotel, owned by a Cuban, run by a Yankee, with a Spanish or Portuguese cashier, will take all the money you bringinto it for a bed at night, and hold your baggage till your can cablefor money to buy breakfast. It is a "free country, " of course, run bymen who will fly high as long as they can borrow money for some one elseto pay after they are dead, but within ten years the taxes will eat thepeople so they will be head over heels in debt to the Yankee and theSpaniard, the German and the Englishman, the Frenchman and the Italian, and some day warships will sail into Havana harbor, over the submergedbones of the "Maine, " and there will be a fight for juicy morsels of theCuban dead horse, by the congregated buzzards of strange navies, unlessthey shall shake the dice for the carcass, and by carefully loading thedice saw the whole thing off on to Uncle Sam, and make him pay the debtsof the deceased republic, and act as administrator for the benefit ofthe children of the sawed off republic, whose only asset now is climatethat feels good, but contains germs of all diseases, and tobacco thatsmells good when it is in conflagration under your nose, and does notkill instantly if it is pasted up in a Wisconsin wrapper, that is thepure goods. If tobacco ever ceases to be a fad with the rich consumerof fifty-cent cigars, and beet sugar is found to contain no first aidto Bright's disease, Cuba will amount to about as much as Dry Tortugas, which has purer air, and the Isle of Pines, which has more tropicalscenery and less yellow fever. But now the Island of Cuba is a joy, andHavana is like Heaven, until you come to pay your bill, when it is hell. Streets so wide you cannot see a creditor on the other side, pavementsas smooth as the road to perdition, and tropical trees, plants andflowers, with birds of rare plumage, you feel like sitting on a coldbench in the shade, and wishing all your friends were here to enjoy ataste of what will come to those who are truly good, in the hereafter, when suddenly you are taken with a chill up the spinal column, and acold sweat comes out on the forehead, and the internal arrangements goon a strike because of the cold, perspiring cucumber you had for lunch, and you go to the doctor, who does not do a thing to you, but scare youout of your boots by talking of cholera, and giving you the card ofhis partner, the undertaker, telling you never to think of dying in atropical country without being embalmed, because you look so much betterwhen you are delivered at your home by the express company, and then hegives you pills and a bill, and an alarm clock that goes off every hourto take a pill by, and furnishes you an officer to go home to your hotelwith you to collect his bill, and you pawn your watch and sleeve buttonsfor a steerage ticket to New York, where you arrive as soon as the Lordwill let you, and stay as long as He thinks is good for you. 

Dad has not been much good in Havana, cause he wanted to see the wholebusiness in one day. He got a row boat and went out in the harbor towhere the back-bone of the "Maine" acts as a monument to the fellows whoyet sleep in the mud of the bottom, and after tying a little Americanflag on the rigging that sticks up above the water, and damning thevillains who blew up the good ship, we went back to town and drove outto the cemetery where several hundred of our boys are buried, where weleft flowers on the graves and a cuss in the balmy air for the guiltywretches who fired the bomb, and then we went back to the city andwalked the beautiful streets, until dad began to have cramps, fromtrying to eat all the fruit he could hold, and then it was all off, andI was going to call a carriage to take him to the hotel, when dad saw anegro astride a single ox, hitched to a cart, who had come in from thecountry, and dad said he wanted to ride in that cart, if it was the lastact of his life, and as dad was beginning to swell up from the fruit hehad eaten, I thought he better ride in an open cart, cause in a carriagehe might swell up so we couldn't get him out of the door when we got tothe hotel, so I hired the negro, got dad in the cart, and we started, but the ox walked so slow I was afraid we would never get dad therealive, so I told the negro dad had the cholera, and that settled, forhe kicked the slats of the ox in with his heels, and the ox bellowed andrun away, and the negro turned pale from fright, and I guess the runawayride on the cobble stone pavement was what saved dad's life, for theswelling in dad's inside began to go down, and when we got to the hotelhe got out of the cart alone, and I knew he was better, for he shookhimself, gulluped up wind, and said, "You think you are smart, don'tyou?" So I will close. 

Yours, Hennery. 

[Illustration: The ox bellowed and run away 382]