Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 An office-boy in Chicago
 The voyage across the Atlantic...
 Arrival in London
 The Queen's diamond jubilee
 I attend a ball
 I go to Hawarden castle and interview...
 I visit Windsor castle and arrange...
 My last days in London
 Across the channel
 I walk to Bruges
 I reach Brussels
 I call upon King Leopold
 I walk to Antwerp
 From Amsterdam to Cologne
 I walk up the river Rhine
 Emperor and King
 I reach Switzerland
 Lost in the Alps
 Eastern France
 Light-housekeeping in Paris
 I interview President Faure
 My reception in London
 I meet some famous people, and...
 The voyage back as a first-class...
 Christmas in Mattoon
 Back Cover

Title: A Yankee boy's success
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00087084/00001
 Material Information
Title: A Yankee boy's success
Physical Description: xiv, 278 p., 8 leaves of plates : ill. ; 20 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Morrison, Harry Steele, 1880-
Depew, Chauncey M ( Chauncey Mitchell ), 1834-1928 ( Author of introduction )
Tobin, George T ( George Timothy ), 1864-1956 ( Illustrator )
Frederick A. Stokes Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Frederick A. Stokes Company
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: c1898
Subject: Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Diligence -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Success -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Reporters and reporting -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Mothers and sons -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Presidents -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Kings and rulers -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Courage -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Description and travel -- Juvenile literature -- Europe   ( lcsh )
Autobiographies -- 1898   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1898
Genre: Autobiographies   ( rbgenr )
autobiography   ( marcgt )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by Harry Steele Morrison ; with an introduction by Chauncey M. Depew ; illustrated by George T. Tobin.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00087084
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002399871
notis - AMA4792
oclc - 31453472

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Half Title
        Page i
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
        Page ix
        Page x
    Table of Contents
        Page xi
        Page xii
        Page xiii
        Page xiv
    List of Illustrations
        Page xiv-a
    An office-boy in Chicago
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    The voyage across the Atlantic as pantry-boy on a cattle vessel
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 50a
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    Arrival in London
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
    The Queen's diamond jubilee
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
    I attend a ball
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
    I go to Hawarden castle and interview Mr. Gladstone
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 96a
        Page 97
    I visit Windsor castle and arrange to see the Queen
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 106a
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
    My last days in London
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
    Across the channel
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
    I walk to Bruges
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
    I reach Brussels
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
    I call upon King Leopold
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 148a
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
    I walk to Antwerp
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
    From Amsterdam to Cologne
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
    I walk up the river Rhine
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
    Emperor and King
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
    I reach Switzerland
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
    Lost in the Alps
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 210a
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
    Eastern France
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
    Light-housekeeping in Paris
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
    I interview President Faure
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 240a
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
    My reception in London
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 252a
    I meet some famous people, and prepare to leave for New York
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
    The voyage back as a first-class passenger
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
    Christmas in Mattoon
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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-Page 88.






Illustrated by




WHILE working in my library one evening, I re-
ceived a note stating that the Boy Reporter was in
the reception-room and wished to see me.
The Political, Financial, Railway, Social and Syndi-
cate Reporters are frequent visitors to my house and
office, and hardly a day passes without a call from
" the Lady Reporter; but the Boy Reporter was a new
sensationn and I saw him at once. After he had told
his story, I was surprised that so modest a youngster
should have had such success. There was nothing
loud or aggressive or audacious about him. He knew
perfectly what he wanted, and he wasted no time in
having it understood. He soon won my interest and
sympathy. His confidence in himself and his success,
and faith in your assistance, were singularly attractive.
His adventures reverse the rules laid down in novels,
and which send boys with pistols and scalping knives
to the plains to fight Indians. It would not be safe
for other boys to undertake what he accomplished.
Not one in thousands could get very far without fall-
ing into the hands of the Charities' Commissioners,


the Society for the Protection of Children or the
I think his gentle confiding manner was helped by
his flowing red hair. There are all sorts of red hair,
from the Titian tint, which is the artist's envy, to the
fighting brick-dust, but Morrison's red hair is an illu-
mination, and you wonder what is underneath it. His
success is due to the fact that he is neither an adveni-
turer nor an impostor. He is transparently seeking
knowledge of the world. No matter how valuable
your time, you get the impression that you are helping
a worthy and laudably ambitious youth in a career
for which he has demonstrated marked talent.
He writes well and lucidly, but needs education and
experience. He conveys a very good idea of the distin-
guished people who permitted him to interview them.
He is, like all boys, an impressionist; the analytical fa-
culty will develop later. His adventures are so clean,
and for such well-defined purposes, that he presents a
fine example of the possibilities for getting on which
can be utilized by the American Boy.
His simple story is an object lesson; it teaches that
with good character and habits, with industry and
courage, the American Boy who is early thrown upon
his own resources can rise by his own efforts and
make a success in life.


I HAVE not tried to make this a book of literary
excellence, with fine passages and flowery phrases. It
was apparent that it would be useless for me to at-
tempt it, and I decided to make it a plain, simple nar-
rative, and send it out to stand upon its merits as the
true story of the experiences of a sixteen-year-old
Yankee boy in Europe.
I have often thought that I should have been very
thankful if some such book as this had fallen into my
hands a few years ago, a book that would have given
me some idea of what I might hope to accomplish
through perseverance and enterprise. I know that I
should have had a great deal more confidence in my
ability when I started for Europe, and might finally
have achieved a much greater success through the
knowledge of what other boys had accomplished under
the same conditions. I had been called foolish and


over-ambitious, and was half-inclined to think I was.
If any other boy had succeeded under such difficulties,
I should have had greater faith in my ultimate success.
I do not mean to inspire other boys to make a
twenty-five-dollar trip to Europe, but I do hope to en-
courage them to undertake other equally helpful
things. There are many plans thought out in the
fertile brains of boys and girls that are quite practica-
ble, and would be of great advantage to them if car-
ried out, but they generally decide that they never
heard of any other boy or girl doing it, and for that
reason think they would be sure to fail.
Although the narrative is very unlike the usual
story of adventure, I hope that it may be interesting
as a book of that kind, though the adventures really
occurred. They are experiences that could only hap-
pen to a Yankee boy, and at the end of the nineteenth
At the suggestion of the publishers, the story is
printed as it was first handed in to them, without any
editing or pruning by a more experienced hand. An
introduction has been written by Mr. Chauncey M.
Depew, and is inserted with a full appreciation of its


candid criticism. Being aware of all the circumstances
of the trip, his opinion is an able and impartial one,
and will doubtless be enjoyed by the readers of the
New York City, August, x5, I898.














ESTY. 98












TLE INN. 175



BERNE. 206



MONEY. 226







"You look as though you would succeed, he said."...Frontispiece.

" I don't think I ever saw so many dishes." .................. 50

"Be a good boy, and you'll be a true man, he said."........... 97

"Come nearer, my boy," she said, I can't talk to you so
far away.".................... ........................ o6

" I felt like an actual criminal."............................... 149

" Wished with all my heart that I were in Illinois."........... 210

" His very first words sent a chill over me."..................240

" Beside me was the Lord Mayor of London."........... ....252



IT is safe to say that not one of you has ever heard
of the small city of Mattoon, in Illinois, a city of some
ten thousand busy inhabitants, typically western, and
full of push and energy. For it is only one of hun-
dreds of such cities, and scarcely interesting to any one
not born there. Indeed, it was not very interesting to
me, and I was born there. I hadn't lived in the little
city fourteen years until I began to be dissatisfied
with my surroundings and anxious for greater fields,
as I suppose all boys are at one time in their lives. To
be sure I had always found plenty to do, what with
making garden in the springtime and selling vegeta-
bles to the neighbors before schooltime, scrubbing the
floor of the public library after school, and sometimes
assisting the librarian in sending out the books. 'I
think I was one of the most active boys in the towi,
and managed to keep myself in clothes and spending
money from my earliest recollection.


I used to even speculate on a small scale. My
vegetable trade grew so rapidly that I was unable to
raise enough in my own garden to supply my cus-
tomers, and I used to go to an old gardener on the
edge of the town and buy an additional stock from
him. I would pay him five cents for rhubarb or onions
and sell them for fifteen cents, clearing at least two
hundred per cent. in the operation.
In the winter, when I had no vegetables to sell to
my customers, I sold them mince-meat and horse-rad-
ish instead, being assisted by mother in the manufac-
ture of them, for though I was willing enough, it was
quite beyond me to make any acceptable kind of
Gardening and janitoring the library soon grew
monotonous, however, and little by little, as the weeks
and months passed quickly by, I found myself looking
forward to some indefinite future that I felt was soon
to come. I had by this time entered the high-school,
and was doing my best with Latin and geometry and
the other terrors of boyhood but feeling all the time
that I would ever so much rather be out in the world
making my own living and seeing something. There
are hundreds of boys who feel that very way, I know,
but with me it soon ceased to be a feeling and rapidly
became a determination. I decided that as soon as


school was out in the spring, I would take my small
saving of fifteen dollars from the bank and go to Chi-
cago, where I felt sure I could get work as an office-
boy or something." The determination grew
stronger as the spring came round, until finally I looked
upon it as an accepted fact that I was to go.
Naturally mother didn't want me to do it, but when
she saw how much the venture meant to me, how am-
bitious I was to make the attempt, she withdrew her
opposition and consented that I should try it, "for
the summer vacation only." I didn't mind the condi-
tion attached, that I was to return in September, and
fully expected to do so. The vacation seemed an age
as I looked forward to it, and it would be a long time
for me to spend in the great city.
So I went to Chicago, alone, and with but little
money, and after a week of searching secured a place
as office-boy in a real-estate office. My joy at my
good fortune knew no bounds. I thought I saw before
me the open way to great business success and wealth.
I believed that if I did my very best I would be
rapidly advanced to higher positions, and who could
tell where I might finally stand.
I loved my work for several months, but, little by
little, as at home, the thought grew in my mind that
perhaps there wasn't much chance of advancement


after all, and that I had better look for something
better. I saw clearly that I would probably have to
be an office-boy for years to come, with hardly any in-
crease of salary, and with no great opportunities for
Therefore a new ambition came to me. I was anx-
ious to travel, to be somebody, to see things, and,
lastly, to be a journalist. That had always been my
chief ambition, but I hadn't seen a way open for me
to enter that profession, for fifteen-year-old journalists
are not often seen. But since I had been in Chicago,
surrounded on every side by people who had con-
quered everything and achieved success, it seemed to
me that there must be a way for me to be a journalist.
I thought of it night after night as I lay in bed, and
gradually it occurred to me that perhaps I might be a
journalist and travel, too. And all at once, when I was
sitting at my little table in the office one day, I said to
myself, I'll go to Europe, and send European letters
to the papers. Men have done it, so why shouldn't a
boy do it as well. I know I can write some, well
enough, anyhow, and,-and I'll go." That was a rap-
turous moment for me. I felt instinctively that at last
I had hit upon the very thing to do, and I was all
eagerness to begin my plans. Oh," I said to myself
time and again that day, and the days following, too,


"what a thing it will be for me. I just know I can do
it, and I will."
As soon as I thought of the plan, I saw a way by
which I thought I could carry it into execution. I
had saved twenty-five dollars from my three dollars
and a half a week wages, and that would be enough for
me to start on, anyhow, and as I went along, I could
add to it by writing for the papers. I could work my
way to Buffalo on a lake steamer, and then perhaps I
could afford to pay my way to New York City, or even
walk, if necessary. Once in New York, I felt sure I
would have no difficulty in securing a place as pantry-
boy on a cattle-vessel, or to do something to earn my
passage. When I arrived in London I could perhaps
work somewhere at first for my room and board, and
then I could write for American papers, and perhaps
English ones, telling them of my adventures. I
thought it would be very easy to write for the press
and get my articles accepted, for I had never had any
experience. The whole plan seemed perfectly feasible
-to me and easy of execution.
I told the men in the office about it that afternoon,
and all but one laughed at me derisively. Mr. Kirk,
however, who was fat and fatherly, was interested at
once, and though he never said anything that I
could take for encouragement, I felt that somehow he


thought I would succeed. So from that day on Mr.
Kirk was my only confidant. He always listened to
me, though he never helped me along any. No doubt
he felt that it was too important a thing to be encour-
aged without thought. Every one else I mentioned it
to only laughed and joked about it, so finally I deter-
mined to keep my plans to myself. If none would
encourage me, why, I said, I didn't need their encour-
agement, and I went bravely about making what few
plans were necessary for my departure.
First of all I visited the editors of the various
Chicago newspapers. I knew that it was important
for me to make a connection with some paper before
leaving, for then I would have a little something to
depend upon. I was bright and hopeful before I made
the round of the editorial rooms for the first time,
but when I came out I felt something like a wet
kitten looks. The editors, of course, had received me
courteously and asked me to be seated. Then they
all looked at me curiously and asked me how old I
was. When I said that I would soon be sixteen they
smiled, and carelessly asked me what I wanted. They
every one treated me the same, with one exception,
so in describing one interview I am describing all.
When I told them that I expected to leave for Europe
in a week or two, and intended to interview Mr. Glad.


stone, take in the Queen's Jubilee and see the Queen
herself, they invariably straightened themselves up in
their chairs and took a renewed interest in me. Evi-
dently they thought me a curio, anyhow. Then they
would listen to my plans for making the trip and
carefully assure me that I would certainly not be able
to carry them out, and that they were afraid I
wouldn't see London this year. They tried to dis-
courage me in every imaginable way, and I think they
really felt that I was foolhardy and likely to come to
When I broached the subject of articles, they only
said that if I did succeed in reaching the other side
they would be glad to read anything I might care to
send in, but they couldn't promise to take any of the
articles. And then I would get up and go out, feel-
ing discouraged in spite of myself, but not the less
determined to go.
Mr. Kohlsaat, of the "Times-Herald," was much
more kind than any of the others, but even he didn't
think I would succeed. He agreed, however, to
print any articles I would send him, and with that pro-
mise I was obliged to content myself. So I didn't
get much encouragement from Chicago editors and
had little to depend upon when I finally took my


Up to this time I hadn't written a word of my plans
to the folks at home, and I began to wonder what they
would think of the project. I felt in my heart that
mother wouldn't want me to go under any considera-
tion, and I was almost afraid to write and ask her
about it. At last, though, I wrote, for I knew it
couldn't be put off forever. And when I sat down to
write the letter, I couldn't decide how to begin it, so
finally I simply put in large letters at the top of the

I expect to go to Europe in a week or ten days-

and then I went on and told them something of my
plans, as much as I knew myself, and that wasn't
much. I begged mother not to say I couldn't go, for
I felt that I just must do it, and I couldn't be office-
boy any longer. It would just kill me," I said. And
I sealed the letter and posted it, and awaited the
answer with fear and trembling.
It came the next day but one, and it was evident
that mother had lost no time in replying. I tore
open the envelope, and then almost cried from vexa-
tion, for all my appeals had been in vain. She wrote


that if I said another thing about such a wild-goose
chase she would send an officer up to bring me home,
for she wouldn't think of letting me do such a thing.
The letter was a long one, and there was no mistaking
its meaning. Every page simply bristled with objec-
tions, and when I sat down to try and answer all the
arguments set forth, I had a hard task before me.
But I was no less determined to win her consent,
and every day after that for a week I wrote home
twenty-five page letters, setting forth all the reasons I
could possibly invent why I should go. And I did as
much as I could to ridicule some of her objections,
but I know I failed dismally in a few cases. I had to
confess that it did seem to be a foolish thing to do,
but I still felt that I could carry it through, and used
all my ability as a writer to convince mother of that
At last my persistence seemed to have some effect,
and one day she wrote that since I was so persevering
in wanting to go I would surely succeed when I did
go, so I might as well do it if I pleased.
I think I have never received a letter that made me
more happy, and a few days after my sister came up
from home to say good-bye. She wanted to persuade
me from going if possible, but if not, why, she would
encourage me all she could. I told her before she had

been with me an hour that it would be useless to try
the first plan, and she didn't try to keep me from going
after that. And when she returned to Mattoon she
must have reassured mother, for her letters took on a
more cheerful tone after that.
Since I had mother's consent, and there was noth-
ing further that I could do with any of the editors,
there seemed nothing to defer my departure. And
time, too, was beginning to be precious. If I wanted
to be in London for the Queen's Jubilee I would have
to hurry, and, of course, I would be obliged to spend
some days in New York before sailing. In fact, I
knew that I would have to allow myself a great deal
of time for delays, for I wasn't making the trip by a
I resigned my position in the office a few days before
leaving, and since by this time every one saw that I
was determined to go, I received many good wishes
and hopes for success. Good Mr. Kirk, moreover,
didn't limit himself to mere good wishes, but insisted
on buying me a new suit of clothes and a pair of
shoes, for I needed them badly. His kindness helped
me more than anything else to start out in good spirits.
A piece of great good fortune came to me when I
was in the midst of looking for a chance to go to
Buffalo on a steamer. It occurred to me all at once


that I might be able to secure a pass to New York if
I asked for it, and I lost no time in visiting one of the
city's leading men and making my request. He heard
my story with great interest, and when I had finished
he wrote me out a pass to Philadelphia. So on one
of the most beautiful days in the latter part of May I
left for the east by train, instead of by steamer, full of
hope, ambition, and determination to succeed.


As the limited train sped east from Chicago and I
sat very still, with my face pressed up against the
window, a sudden thought entered my mind. And
the more I considered it, the more pleased with it I
was, until at last I decided that it was worth trying,
anyhow. I took my ticket from my pocket, and upon
examination found that it provided for a stop-over at
Washington, and I determined to take advantage of
it. I might never have another chance to see the
capital city, and then, I said to myself, who knows but
what I may be able to see the President, and even
Mrs. McKinley. What a triumph that would be! It
alone would make mother glad that she had allowed
me to take the trip. So long before the train ap-
proached Washington, I had decided to make a great
effort to see the President and Mrs. McKinley.
The journey to the Capital was a most interesting
one to me. The mountain scenery of Pennsylvania
and Maryland was a new world to me, and I thought I
had never seen anything so beautiful. I couldn't be-


lieve that I would find the Alps any more beautiful
than this, for I thought such a thing impossible.
Everything was new and wonderful, and everything
was interesting.
I had not ridden long before I made the acquaintance
of a man in the seat behind and was soon telling him
all about my plans and what I expected to accomplish
while I was gone. He took a most active interest in
me after that, and soon the whole car knew where I
was going and what I was going to do. After that I
didn't lack for company, for every one was curious to
know what kind of a boy I was, anyhow, and to learn
something of my history. So for many hours I held a
veritable "levee" in the car and found myself quite
the lion of the hour.
When the train pulled into Washington I gathered
up my band-box, which contained everything I had
brought along, and left my new acquaintances. They
wished me all the success imaginable and I left them
in good spirits, resolved to see the President if it took
me days to do it. Every one looked askance at my
band-box, but I didn't care at all, because I couldn't
afford a portmanteau, and the box had seemed the next
best thing. I had already learned that it was best to
put up with what I could afford and pay no attention
to criticisms.


The first thing I did in Washington was to look for
a place to stop over night, and I was fortunate in find-
ing a cheap but comfortable boarding-house where the
landlady agreed to keep me for a small sum. She
said I would have to sleep on a hard couch in the
parlor, but I wasn't going to object to that when I
had started out ready and willing to sleep on the
ground, if necessary. So I left my band-box at this
place and started out to see the city. I had explained
to the landlady that I was on my way to Europe and
that I had twenty-five dollars in my pocket, and she
looked at me much as small children look at the ani-
mals in the menagerie, but she was good and kind, and
I didn't object to her curiosity.
I went at once to the Capitol and enquired for the
senators from Illinois. I had met Senator Cullom
before and had corresponded some with the other,
who had given me a letter of reference before I left
Chicago. They were both glad to see me started on
my trip and gave me a warm welcome to the Capitol,
showing their interest in my adventures in many
pleasant ways. They were, of course, rather doubtful
about the success of the trip, but I turned their dis-
couraging remarks aside and told them that I would
come and see them both upon my return, just to
show them that I had succeeded, in spite of all their


wise remarks to the contrary. They laughed heartily
at this, and doubtless expected to hear from me next
at Chicago, back where I had started from.
From the Capitol I decided to go to the White
House, for I thought I might as well try to see the
President at once and have it over with. It wasn't an
entirely pleasant thing to look forward to, for I knew
I would have a great many things to overcome before
I would be admitted. So it was natural that I should
want to have it over with as soon as possible. I went
out Pennsylvania Avenue until I came to the Mansion,
and then I stopped and actually hesitated about
entering. The fact that Jackson and Lincoln and so
many others of my boyhood heroes had lived there
made it seem almost sacred ground and deterred
me from entering. But I reflected that though I
might be a little in awe of Lincoln, were I to see him,
I wasn't in the least afraid of kind Mr. McKinley,
whom I had seen before, at a distance.
I walked boldly up the broad steps and past the
officers at the door. They stopped me, of course,
since I was only a boy, and boys don't usually call on
the President. But I had an answer ready for them,
and told them that I was going to the secretary's of-
fice, at which I was allowed to pass. In fact, I hadn't
any idea where Mr. Porter's office was, but knew that


I would be more likely to get by if I assured them
that I wasn't after the President. I had no trouble in
finding the secretary's office, and when I entered it I
encountered another august official, pompous and
severe in manner. He was a colored gentleman, very
much colored, and as broad as he was tall. He placed
himself squarely in my path as I walked in and asked
me in no uncertain tones as to what I was after. I
foresaw trouble and, assuming a very dignified man-
ner, I informed him that I wanted to see the secretary
and see him I would. I also told him that it wouldn't
be any use for him to oppose me, for it was important,
and I couldn't possibly leave without having seen Mr.
He looked at me with a ludicrous expression on his
face, and he was apparently trying to decide what
course to pursue. Don' you know that this here
ain't no time ter see Mas'r Porter, child ? he said.
"I don't know," I said; "I think I'll wait here
until he comes out, anyhow, and then we'll see whether
this is the time or not." And with that I took a
seat, and the doorkeeper, who has been there for
many administrations, retired to his place by the door.
But he watched me furtively as long as I was there
and was puzzled as to what he ought to do. He had
probably had few young westerners to deal with and
didn't know how to handle them.


The room in which I was seated was a large one,
and every chair almost was filled with people who,
like myself, wanted to see Mr. McKinley. Most of
them were office-seekers, men and women who had
come from every part of the country to beg an office
from the President. Few of them ever succeed in
seeing the President, much less get an office, and they
sit there day after day, looking decidedly pathetic
and pitiable.
I hadn't been seated long before Mr. Porter came
out from his office to speak to some one. I knew him
at once from his published pictures, and when he
had finished with the person he came to see, I went
boldly up to him and stated my desire. I told him as
much as I could about my plans, and he appeared
interested at once. "Just sit down here until after
four o'clock, and then I'll see if you can't see him," he
said, and I was happy at once. My prospects for
seeing the President were very good indeed, I thought.
When four o'clock came, every one was told that
the President's office was closed for the day, and they
would have to come again the next day. The office-
seekers, who had failed once more, arose and filed out
of the room, and I was soon the only one left.
Then Mr. Porter came out of his office and asked
me to follow him. I guess the President will see


you now," he said, in his pleasant way, "and he is
more likely to talk now than he would be in the busy
part of the day." I followed him through several
rooms, a little nervous, and feeling that one of the
most important events of my life was about to take
place. We went through room after room and ar-
rived at the private office. It was a handsome room,
not very richly furnished but dignified, and such a
room as one would expect the President to have. I
felt my heart in my throat as we entered, but my ex-
citement was without reason, for Mr. McKinley
wasn't there. I was wildly disappointed as I real-
ized that perhaps I wasn't to see him after all, but
Mr. Porter reassured me. "Never mind," he said,
"we won't stop now. I suppose he's in the sitting-
room. Come along."
So then we went through some more rooms and
reached the private apartments of the Mansion. We
seated ourselves, and Mr. Porter ascertained that the
President was changing his coat and would be out in
a moment. While we were sitting there Mrs. McKin-
ley entered the room, and I was thus given the unex-
pected pleasure of an introduction to her. She looked
very sweet in a light blue wrapper, and I thought I
had never seen any one so perfectly delightful. Her
personality was wonderfully attractive, and I couldn't


have been better pleased with any one. The Presi-
dent soon emerged from his room and I was pre-
sented. Mr. Porter told him what I had started out
to do, and he took a real interest in the plan and
encouraged me very much. "You look as though
you would succeed," he said; "your red hair would
make you do it if nothing else, and I feel sure you'll
get along all right. Keep your wits about you and
don't get into bad company, and you'll succeed."
That and much more did he say, and I was in rap-
tures over such words of encouragement from such a
man. He seemed to me then the very ideal of every-
thing that was to be desired in a man-handsome,
honest and genial, with character looking out from the
windows of his mind. He impressed me more than I
could ever say, and I never had such a love for my
country as at that moment. I could almost imagine
what Washington and Jefferson looked like, and de-
cided that all our Presidents must be wonderful men.
When I arose to take my departure, after more
words of encouragement from Mr. and Mrs. McKin-
ley, I thanked them from the depths of my heart for
their great goodness to me, but they said they wished
that there was more that they could do. Then I
shook hands with them and with Mr. Porter and hur-
ried out of the Mansion and down the steps. I simply
walked on air as I walked away between the rows of


fine old trees, and decided that I had never met any
one quite so nice before. If I am only as successful
in all my efforts as I have been this afternoon," I said,
" I need have no doubts about my ultimate success,"
and I hurried away to the boarding-house to tell the
kind landlady about my success. It was too good to
keep to myself.
I remained in Washington over night, and early
the next morning I left for Philadelphia, where I had
planned to spend a few hours in sight-seeing. I
wanted to see everything possible on my way and not
miss a single thing. Had I known what a time I was
to have in the "Quaker City," I think I would have
gone on through to New York. But I couldn't tell,
of course, what was likely to happen, and it was just
as well, as I found time and again before my pilgrim-
age was over.
When I arrived in the city I went at once to Inde-
pendence Hall, only to find that it was "closed for
repairs." I couldn't imagine why they should repair
such a valuable relic, but had to go away without see-
ing it. I then went down to the river, hoping to find
a boat that I could take to New York, for my pass
couldn't be used for the rest of the journey. It was
to my interest to save every possible cent, and I
hoped that the fare by water would be cheaper than
by rail. I went along the docks to a steamer that


was to sail for New York and asked the captain to
allow me to go with him. He said that they didn't
carry any passengers. "But can't you take just me,"
I pleaded, I won't take up much room." I should
say not, and get out of here now or I'll kick you out,"
and the brute gave me a push to emphasize his re-
marks. I was almost wild with anger, but what could
I do ? Then for the first time I felt just a little home-
sick and almost wished that I hadn't started. I soon
felt better, though, and resolved to pay no attention,
since I must expect such treatment from some people.
I went back into the business part of the city and
tried to get into the government Mint, that I might see
them making money out of bullion. It was too early,
however, to get in there, and I determined to take a
train at once for New York. I felt disgusted with
everything in the city and wanted to get out as quickly
as I could. I went down to the ferry and took the
first train out of the city, reducing my slender sum of
money by two dollars and a half to pay my fare.
The train sped on across New Jersey, and just as
the twilight was beginning to deepen into night I saw
the towers and spires of New York loom up in the
distance, and a fear that all might not turn out as I
had hoped crept into my heart, for it is a terrible
thing to land in a great city alone and at night, par.
ticularly when you are only sixteen years old,


AFTER searching for some time that Friday night, my
first night in New York, I succeeded in finding a very
cheap hotel. I engaged a room there and, tired with
the day's adventures, went to bed to dream of wonder-
ful things to happen on the morrow. It was a lone-
some time for me. I didn't know a single person in
all the great metropolis, and everything had seemed
so strange, so terribly strange, as I walked about look-
ing for a place to sleep. I had supposed that New
York would be very much like Chicago, but it was as
different as it could be, and I could not feel at home.
The next day was Saturday, and I was awakened
early in the morning by the traffic in the street with-
out. I arose and hastily washed myself, and then
went out to get some breakfast. Outside the door of
the hotel I stopped a moment. I thought to myself
that I was in a strange position. Here I was, all safe
in New York, but what would I do next, what should
I do? I decided that some breakfast should be my
first thought, and I went out into Broadway and
bought some coffee and rolls.


It was too early to visit any of the vessels in the
harbor and ask for work, so I walked down the street
to the Battery and sat for some time watching the
innumerable boats steaming here and there in the har-
bor. It was a sight that I had never seen before, and
it made me more anxious than ever to go to Europe,
to see so many vessels of all nations in the harbor. It
had a fascination for me, and I sat there for hours,
without noticing the passage of the time.
Finally I arose and went up Broadway, wandering
aimlessly along, with scarcely any object in view, and
wondering what I had better do next. I was truly
worried, and was beginning to appreciate the magni-
tude of my undertaking. I wasn't sorry at all that I
had started but felt that I had set out on a very un-
certain pilgrimage, uncertain in its ending and uncer-
tain in its profits and advantages.
As I walked along the street I looked up and saw
before me City Hall Park, with the great World"
building lifting its dome high in the air. And when I
saw it, I remembered that I had been advised to see the
editor of that paper, and I lost no time in crossing the
park and entering the editorial offices. A small boy
was at the door and told me that I couldn't possibly
see the evening editor, as he was too busy. I must
see him," I said, quietly, and walked right into the


office. I enquired for the editor, and he was pointed
out to me. I went up to his desk and took a chair at
his side. I am going to Europe in a few days," I
said, "and I hoped that I could send you some
articles from there while I am gone. I am going to
interview Mr. Gladstone and the Queen and I don't
know how many other people while I'm gone."
The editor looked at me. "Is that so?" he said,
and I could see that he was interested. "Yes, I'm
going," I replied. The editor called a reporter and
told him to "write me up." "Get his story," he
said, "he's a good one." Then he called one of the
artists and asked him to sketch me. It was now my
turn to be surprised, and I looked about me in a
scared sort of a way and wondered what all this
meant. The reporter, whom I liked from the first, re-
assured me. We're going to give you two columns
on the front page, and it will be a great help to you."
I then began to understand and was soon telling my
interviewer all about myself, while he looked at me
curiously. Can you write as well as you can talk ?"
he said, finally, and when I told him that I had always
thoughtI could-write better, he said that I had better
write my own story then. Me write it?" I asked.
"Why, yes," said the reporter, "why not?" I
accepted things as they came and sat down at a table


with pencil and paper. In half an hour I had written
the required article, and in the meantime the artist
had made a sketch of me, so that now I thought I
was done.
The editor, however, thought differently. "Go
across the street," he said, "and see Mayor Strong.
Tell him that you're going to London and ask him to
give you a letter to the Lord Mayor there. Hurry
back and have a story ready in a few minutes."
I did as I was bid. Hurrying across the street to
the City Hall, I had no difficulty in entering the office
of the Mayor.' I waited until he was disengaged and
then went up to him. I am going to Europe, Mr.
Strong, and am without anything to depend upon,
and am going alone. It would help me very much
indeed if you will give me a letter to the Lord Mayor
of London, who could help me in many ways over
The Mayor looked at me. No," he said, I won't
give you any letter, because I don't believe in them.
I came to New York without a cent, and with no
letters either, and look at me."
I looked at him. If you, sir, have been through
such experiences yourself, I should think. that you
would be more obliging to other boys who are
obliged to depend on their own efforts for a living."


And with that I walked out of the office, and the last
I saw of the Mayor he was sitting in his chair looking
at me with open mouth and eyes.
I returned to the World" office and wrote out
the result of my visit. I told how the Mayor had re-
ceived me coldly, declining to give me a letter, and
how I had told him my opinion of his action. When
I turned it in to the editor he was very much pleased
with it, and gave orders to put it in the next edition.
As I was crossing the street a few moments after-
ward, I heard the newsboys crying Extra World,"
and as I glanced at the papers in their hands I thought
I saw my name on the front page. I snatched at one
and handed the boy a nickel, becoming lavish in my
haste. And there, sure enough, was my name, and two
entire columns relating the story of my trip this far.
There was also my picture, with Mr. Gladstone beside
me, and I could hardly believe my eyes. "Surely I
must be dreaming," I said, for I had never imagined
that I would be given such a flattering reception. I
read the article through time and again, for it was my
very first newspaper effort, and I was more proud than
I can tell.
That night I mailed copies of it to all my friends
and to the folks at home, and later learned that they
were quite as proud as I, and mother even said that


she was glad I had gone. On the whole, it was quite
the happiest day I ever experienced, and I was raptur-
ously happy. I didn't think of the morrow, finding
enough to fill my mind in the happy present.
My article appeared in every edition of the after-
noon paper, and there are five. It did me good to see
people reading it as they went home in the cars, and I
felt myself to be a small-sized hero. I felt almost like
crying out to them that I was there, near them, for I
supposed they would want to see me. It is a good
thing for us that such moments of great happiness don't
last long or we would do many strange things.
As soon as I had written my second story I left
the newspaper office, after the editor had told me to go
to Coney Island on Sunday and see what I thought of
it. He told me to be sure and have it in on Monday,
when he would have something else for me to do.
I filled the rest of my time on Saturday with sight-
seeing, and on Sunday I visited Coney Island. I had
never seen such a place before and was wonderfully
impressed with the noise, the crowds, and varied at-
tractions. When I went back to my room at night I
wrote a story about what I saw, and the editor was
satisfied with it when I gave it to him on Monday.
He said I had great descriptive powers, and I was
happy again.

Early on Monday morning, when I went again to
the newspaper office, I was told to go and interview
Russell Sage. I looked at the editor in astonishment
when he said it but decided that I had better not say
anything. In truth, I would rather he told me to inter-
view any other man in New York than Mr. Sage, for
I had heard so many stories about his meanness,
stingy character, and general ill-humor. I didn't
know how to go at it, either, for I knew he wouldn't
see any one at his office if he could avoid it. And I
knew he disliked still more to see any one at his house,
so, after deliberation, I decided to see him at his
office if I could.
I had no trouble in finding his office. It is not the
one you would expect him to have, for it is located in
one of the finest new office-buildings in the city, and
is fitted up with everything necessary to an office. In
some things, though, it is very different from other
offices, as I soon found when I entered.
When I opened the door of the outer room I found
myself in a small, cage-like enclosure, with two doors
opening from it, and two tiny windows. All the doors
and windows were tightly sealed, and no one seemed
to be near. I didn't know what to make of such an
arrangement and was about to go away, when I saw
one of the doors open and an old gentleman walk out.


I knew in a minute that this was Mr. Sage, and in a
moment I resolved to stop him in the hall, and then I
would have no further difficulty about seeing him. So,
as he went back into the office again after something,
I hurried out and placed myself where he would have
to pass, and when he came I went boldly up to him.
He stopped and looked at me kindly, and when I
asked him to see me when I came the next morning
he said he would. He was very kind in every way,
and I was delighted with my success in getting an
It was fortunate for me that he came out when he
did, for when Russell Sage once gets behind those
doors and windows, no one gets to him. Since his ex-
citing experience with a dynamite bomb a few years
ago, he takes care that no unknown person gets near
him in his office.
I placed myself in the little cage very early the next
morning, for though Mr. Sage had promised to see me,
I was afraid that after he was in his office he might
change his mind. Therefore I went early, that I might
speak to him as he entered. He wasn't long in coming,
being an early riser, and of course he couldn't do any-
thing but take me in with him. So at last I was in-
side, and as Mr. Sage opened his mail and read the
day's quotations from the ticker, I talked to him about


my future, and asked him for advice regarding it. I
asked him what he thought was the one great secret
of getting rich, for the editor wanted me to get his
opinions on such things. "You must save," he an-
swered, "you must save, save, save, and as you gradu-
ally get a little money to invest, you must do so, for
it's no use to have it idle." And he went on to im-
press it upon me, that whatever else I did, I must
save my money or I'd never be rich, and he was so
forceful in his remarks that I was much impressed.
I finally went away very much pleased with him,
and firmly convinced that most of the newspaper
stories printed about his stingy nature are untrue.
Mr. Sage is economical, of course; that is the secret
of his success, but economy isn't a sin.
My interview with Mr. Sage, which was published
the next day, practically closed my work on the pa-
per during my stay in New York. I was too busy
during the last days to write any, so I wrote a fare-
well letter, which was printed on the day I sailed, and
that was the last.
My last week was a weary time for me. Day after
day I visited every vessel I could see along the
wharves, hoping each time that I would be given a
chance to earn my passage across the ocean. For
though I had made a little money in New York, I had


also spent some, and was but little better off than on
my arrival. So if I wanted to go to Europe there
was nothing for me to do but work my way. I might
have bought a steerage ticket, of course, but that
would have taken every cent I had, and I wanted a
little left when I landed. Therefore I had to keep on
trying, discouraged as I was, to get a place as pantry-
boy, or anything at all. I told the stewards that I
would scrub, or peel potatoes, or do just anything, if
they would only let me go, but usually they only
looked at me scornfully, swore at me, and told me to
get out. I wasn't strong, but I was willing, and felt
sure that I could make myself useful some way.
Day after day I failed in getting anything to do,
and finally I grew almost despondent and was ready
to do most anything. For the first time I wished I
hadn't started out, for these disappointments day af-
ter day were more than I had looked forward to, and
I felt that I couldn't stand the suspense any longer.
So one morning I determined to engage a steerage
passage and one of the great liners was to sail that
very morning. I had no sooner made my decision
than I picked up my band-box and rushed down to
the pier, hoping that I would be in time. I ran all the
way, and when I reached the pier, ready to fall from
exhaustion, there was the great vessel out in mid.


stream and I was too late. I stood there stunned.
Everything seemed against me, and after a while I
went over and sat down on the pier, and for the first
time in months I cried.


IT was, after all, fortunate that I didn't succeed in
boarding the great liner that Thursday morning, for
the accident saved me at least my twenty-five dollars,
and there's no telling how much more. For after I
had sat there on the pier for an hour, and had become
more reconciled to the condition of things, I deter-
mined to look again for a chance to work my way.
There would be no other fast steamship for several
days, and in order to be in London for the Jubilee I
must get one of the slower vessels, of which there
would be several sailing on Saturday morning.
As soon as I had determined to try once more I no-
ticed in the next dock a handsome freight steamer,
which I could see was to sail for London on the com-
ing Saturday. I decided to call on the steward, hop-
ing that perhaps he might treat me better than others
had done and let me do something to earn my pas-
sage. I went up the gangway to the deck and found
him there. I told him how much difficulty I had
been having and how anxious I was to see the Dia-
mond Jubilee. He looked at me a while, and then he


said that he didn't know but what I could make my-
self useful in some way, and that I could come back
the next day, when he would know for sure whether
he had a place for me. My joy at this knew no
bounds. I thanked him from the bottom of my heart,
for somehow I felt sure that I would get the place,
and I imagined myself already safe in London.
On Friday I went again to see him, and he said that
he would take me and that I must come on board
that night, since the vessel was to sail early the next
morning. I hurried away to my little room, packed
my few things in my band-box and brought them
down to the steamer, and that night I went aboard,
stepping for the last time on American soil.
I was shown to my quarters for the trip by old
" Butch," the watchman, and I found much to interest
me in my surroundings. I was assigned to a small
room, in which seven others beside me were to sleep,
and I found that things were going to be rather
crowded. There were eight little bunks about the
walls of the room, one above another, and I chose one
of the upper ones, hoping that it would be cooler than
the others.
I had difficulty in finding a place for my band-box,
small as it was, and was finally obliged to swing it by
a string from the ceiling. When I undressed to spend


my first night in a steamer bunk, I had no place to
put my clothes, and ended up by stuffing them under
the straw tick. Then I tried to stretch myself out
and go to sleep, but to my dismay the bunk was too
short for me to lay at length in and too narrow for me
to sleep in bear fashion. So, on the whole, I was very
uncomfortable and passed a weary night.
Towards morning I succeeded in going to sleep but
was rudely awakened by old Butch," who yelled that
it was high time for me to be up. Don't be lazy,
my lad," he said, and as I looked at my watch and saw
that it was half past four o'clock, I thought that there
was no danger of me being so, if I was to get up that
early every morning. I managed to get out of the
bunk without falling, and as there was no place to
wash, I went up on deck just as I was, and that was
pretty dirty. I found the steward waiting for me,
ready to assign me my work, and I soon learned that
I was to help in the pantry during the voyage, being
chief dish-washer, for one thing. I wasn't sorry to
hear this, because I thought that dish-washing would
be simple, but when I went into the pantry and saw
the dirty dishes piled up there, I saw it wasn't going
to be so easy after all. But I rolled up my sleeves and
began, and from that time on to the end of the voy-
age I washed dishes most of the time. From four in


the morning until nine o'clock at night the dishes
kept pouring into the pantry, and to keep from getting
entirely swamped I was obliged to wash and wash
and wash. Dish-washing isn't particularly hard when
you have but a few, but when it becomes an all-day
job it's very different.
I don't think I ever saw so many dirty dishes as I
washed that first day. I rolled up my sleeves and
went at the work in earnest, but I no sooner had one
pile cleared away than another would come in, and
finally I became exasperated because I never seemed
to get done. "When are these dishes ever going to
stop coming in ? I ventured to ask Pants," as the
fat pantry-man was called. And for my impudence I
had some more shoved at me, and I was wild with
vexation. There was another boy in the pantry, who
was much older than I, being twenty, anyhow. He
usually did the wiping, while I washed. He was used
to the work and didn't get tired, but I thought I
would drop before that first day was over.
As soon as the evening dinner was over, and I had
at last succeeded in getting every dish washed, I ran
away down stairs to my little bunk, which was as
welcome to me then as an eider-down couch would
have been. I got a good scolding from "Pants" the
next morning, but I didn't care. I had an idea that I

-Page 50.


needn't be so very particular about what I did now
that we were away from land. "They can't take me
back, anyhow," I said to myself. "Pants," though,
soon convinced me that they could do something else,
and gave me a good fright for my impudence in think-
ing such things. You'll get put in chains and shoved
down in the hold if you don't work right," he said,
" and when we get you to land we'll put you in jail,
and you'll not get anything to eat but bread and
water." I trembled in my shoes and resolved then
and there to do my best to be a good pantry-boy.
Sunday, the second day out, was a memorable day
for me, because it was then that I first felt the horrible
pains that come with sea-sickness. I was seized with
horror when I first noticed them, for I had dreaded
the terrible malady ever since I thought of undertak.
ing the trip, and now that it had at last come, I didn't
know what I would do. I told Pants" what was
coming, and he said it was all nonsense and that I
was trying to get away from my work. Then I went
and ate as many lemons as I could, hoping that they
would keep it off, but they didn't do any good. It
kept coming steadily on, worse and worse, until finally
I gave one great gulp and ran out on the deck. It was
raining and the boards were wet, but I laid myself
right down, for I wasn't caring for anything. I didn't


go back to the pantry that night and passed a terrible
time in my bunk, so that when I went up the next
morning I was pale and as ill as I could be. Pants "
gave me a cool reception and said that I had better
stay below, since I wasn't much use in the pantry, any-
how. But I went on with my work until afternoon,
when I again had to lie down.
All day Monday and on Tuesday also I was very
ill, and some of the time it was quite impossible for
me to work. Pants kept sending the other pantry-
boy after me to tell me to come up to the pantry but
I couldn't do it. I knew that Pants would be angry
with me, but it was impossible for me to remain in the
hot, stuffy pantry all the time.
On Wednesday I was myself again but I was never
again in favor with Pants." Indeed, I seemed to be
in trouble all the time, and it was evident to me that
I wasn't born for a pantry-boy, whatever I might be-
come in time. I tried conscientiously to do things as
they should be done, but somehow I just would break
dishes, and the coffee wouldn't be good, though I made
it precisely as I was told to do. The coffee, in fact,
was the source of most of my tribulations. It was my
duty each morning to make it, and I did it as well as I
could. I know I followed the directions Pants gave
me, but it was most always too cold, or there were


grounds in it, or it was too weak. I finally gave up
trying to improve it and bore my daily scolding as a
matter of course. After my arrival in London, when I
was talking with some of the passengers, one of the
ladies remarked that she had never in her life tasted
such terrible coffee as they had on the boat, and I said
with great humility, Yes, I made it." The mystery
was explained. No wonder it was bad," they said.
Another of my duties was to keep the hot-water
tank filled, and though I put water in it every time I
could remember to do so, it always seemed to be
empty. And every time it was empty "Pants"
reminded me of it with great emphasis. Indeed, I
never seemed to do anything to suit old "Pants," who
was continually finding fault with everybody and
everything. It really seemed to be his chief delight
to scold me.
I also had charge of the keys to the cold-storage
room, where I was sent a hundred times a day for
something. And those keys were another source of
misery to me, because they were the hardest things
imaginable to keep track of. The stewards used to
take them from the nail where they were kept and not
return them to the same place, and then when
"Pants" happened to want them and they weren't
there I was to blame, of course. One day, when the


voyage was about half over, my troubles with the keys
reached a climax. In the midst of dinner, when
everything was rush and bustle, I was sent to the cold-
storage room for some milk. I opened the door and
went in, laying the keys on a shelf. And then, when
I had filled my bucket, I went out and sprung the
lock, with the keys still inside. It was some moments
before I realized what I had done, and then I was
dumb with horror. No one can imagine my feelings,
for having been in a continual state of terror of
"Pants" I thought that he would simply murder me
for this. How I longed to get away from the ship,
but that was impossible.
I at last decided to go to the chief steward, who
had given me the place, and to my great joy he
reassured me. "It's all right," he said, "we can
break the lock." And break the lock they did, and
Pants never heard anything of it.
The ship's sculleryman made things uncomfortable
for me very often. He was a half-witted fellow, of
massive build, and with the strength of an ox. He
took a violent dislike to me from the first, though I
didn't do or say anything that could have offended
him. He seemed to gloat over me as a tiger over its
prey, and said time and again that he was only waiting
for a chance to kill me. I was terrified beyond descrip-


tion at such threats from such a man, but the stewards
said for me not to mind him, as he was harmless. But
as the days passed by, and he grew more and more
vicious, I became afraid that he might do me some
harm, for he slept in the same room with me. I went
to the chief steward and complained about him, and
he said that he would have him attended to. But he
continued his threats, and I was always in a state of
terror at night and couldn't sleep. I asked to be
allowed to sleep in another room but was told that
there was no other place for me.
Finally the affair reached a climax one night. I
was sitting quietly on the after deck, thinking of home
and my future. Just around the corner from me
were several of the stewards, who were enjoying the
cool evening breeze after their hard day's work. It
was moonlight, and as I turned my head I saw stand-
ing over me the brutal sculleryman, looking down at
me with a grin on his face. He saw me look up and
made a step forward. I've got you now, and I'll
fix you, too," he growled, as he came another step
nearer. I understood his intention in a moment. He
was going to throw me overboard, and as he came at
me I gave one scream that brought the stewards to
my side in a moment, and the beast was scared off. I
was weak from fright and came near fainting. The


incident was reported to the steward, and the idiot
was carefully watched during the remainder of the
voyage, while I was allowed to sleep on deck.
Such were a few of the things that made the voy-
age an eventful one. Of pleasures I had few, finding
my chief delight in listening to the cattle-men's yarns
on the deck at night. These men, who were earn-
ing their passages by tending the cattle, had traveled
the world over, and seemed to have an inexhaustible
fund of good stories and tales of adventure. They
were very good to me, and I became good friends with
them. We used to sing every night on the after deck,
popular songs on week-days and hymns on Sunday,
and our concerts were not bad, either.
I finally came to feel much at home on the boat. I
wasn't sea-sick after the first experience, and after a
while my dish-washing became machine work and I
was used to it. Pants" at last ignored me entirely,
for which I was thankful, for anything was better than
one continual scolding. I longed, of course, to arrive
in London, though I had but little there to look for.
ward to.
At last, on the eleventh day out from New York,
the good ship entered the English Channel and pro-
ceeded up to London. During these last two days I
was in ecstasy, for I was soon to put foot on Europe
for the first time.


IT was on June I8th that our good ship anchored in
the muddy Thames off London town. The famous
river was full of boats of all shapes and sizes, and the
scene was new and wonderful to me. Little tugs,
puffing and blowing, hurried up and down the stream,
great heavy barges floated lazily with the current,
steamers carefully picked their way among the smaller
craft and out to sea, and the wharves were lined with
sailing vessels which were waiting for a breeze to come
up that they too might seek the open sea. The river
was not a beautiful one at all, and not as large as I
had expected it would be, but it was interesting and
The vessel had anchored in the river to allow the
health and customs officers to come aboard, and they
were some time in doing so. After they had finished,
the passengers were to be landed, and then we were to
go down the river again to Deptford, where the cattle
would be unloaded. The crew wouldn't be allowed to
leave until night, and, as I was counted in their num-
ber, I was afraid that I, too, would have to remain all

day with the great city before me, and me longing to
be in it. There was another reason why I wanted to
disembark in the morning, too, and that was my de-
sire to avoid the idiot sculleryman. I had heard some
grewsome tales of the London docks, and decided that
I would rather not be there alone with him.
I sought the steward and told him my desire, and
he wouldn't listen to anything of the kind. I then
went to the first officer, who was English and very
English. He looked at me with a frown. "You
American boys think you can do about as you please,
don't you ? he growled. Well, this is once that you
won't. You'll stay on here till we get ready to let
you off, do you hear? Now get out of here and don't
let me hear any more o' this nonsense."
I lost no time in accepting his invitation for me to
get out and hurriedly sought my cattlemen friends
down in the lower deck. "What do you think," I
said, "they're going to make me stay on here all day,
and I think it's uncalled for. And I'm afraid of that
idiot, too." The. cattlemen rose to the occasion.
"Are they, indeed?" said one of them, "we'll see
about that," and they all put their heads together to
devise a way to outwit the first officer, for they shared
my dislike for him. Finally they arrived at a decision.
"Have you got a shilling?" one of them asked me.


No," I said, but will a quarter do?" It's all
the same," they said; now we'll tell you what to do.
You see that rowboat there near the bank?" "Yes,"
I said. Well, we'll get that man to come over here
with it, and we'll hang the rope ladder over the side
of the ship, up near the prow, and you can climb over
and get in the boat. Once you're in the boat and pull-
ing away you're all right, because they're not going
after you."
I was a little shocked at the boldness of the thing
and suggested that perhaps that would be a wrong ac-
tion to take, but they only scoffed at the idea. Why,
they'd keep you on here a week if they could," said
one of them, "and I don't blame you for being afraid
of that idiot. He's liable to do 'most anything to you."
So I decided to run away and told them to get the
rowboat over. I had my band-box ready at the ship's
side, and I went and told the steward, who had been
so good to me, what I was going to do. He laughed
and cautioned me to be careful. Don't let them see
you," he said, or they will make it hot for you." I
told him good-bye and thanked him for his kindness.
The boat was at the ship's side, the ladder was in
place, and the cattlemen were there ready to pull it up
after me. The coast seemed all clear, so I shook
hands with them all, threw my box into the boat, and


followed as quicklyas I could. I reached the boat
without accident, and the man pulled rapidly toward
the shore. As I looked back I saw the stewards ges-
ticulating wildly, and I knew that my escapade had
been discovered. Soon the first officer appeared at
the rail, and I could see that he was simply wild with
rage. The Yankee boy had escaped after all.
In a few minutes the boat reached the bank and I
jumped out, wild with joy. In Europe at last," I
cried, I'm so glad, so glad !" The man looked at me
in amazement, but I couldn't expect him to appreciate
my feelings, since he didn't know what I had been
through to get to London.
I stood on the dock and looked about me. There
on my right hand was the famous old Tower of Lon-
don, grim and terrible, but just as I had expected to
find it. Before me, and only two or three squares
away, was old St. Paul's, with its great dome rising
above everything around. It was all so grand and so
inspiring that I could have shouted in the fullness of
my enthusiasm. Everything was fully up to my ex-
pectations so far.
I sat down on a box and tried to figure out just how
I stood. I found that I had nearly all of the twenty-
five dollars with which I left Chicago, so that thus far
my trip had paid for itself. I must now get a place to


work for my room and board, for I had a long journey
still before me and nothing but my twenty-five dollars
to depend upon. I might get some money from Amer-
ican newspapers but again I might not. It was best
not to depend on it, anyhow.
I left my seat and walked up to great St. Paul's and
stood looking at the magnificent structure for some
minutes. Then, realizing that I had no time for sight-
seeing yet, I called a newsboy and bought a West-
minster Gazette," for I wanted to see if any one was
advertising for a boy. I had changed my money into
English currency, so I had no difficulty in buying it.
I opened the paper, and after looking it over several
times succeeded in finding the "ad" columns. I
looked down them with an eagerness that made me
oblivious to my surroundings, so much so that I was
barely saved from being run over by a cab. I wasn't
yet used to London traffic.
I had searched for some moments before I found
anything suitable, and then, just as I was about dis-
couraged, I saw that, "A boy is wanted at No. 7
Fetter Lane, E. C., to work for his room and board in
a pleasant inn."
"Oh, how fortunate," I said to myself, and then,
asking an officer which way to go, I hurried off to the
given address, for I was afraid some London lad might


get there ahead of me. But no, I was the first one to
apply, and when I told a kind old lady in a white cap
my history, she said I might bring in my box and
she would look no further for a boy. She said she
liked my looks and thought I was pretty brave. I was
too happy for utterance that I had succeeded so soon
in finding a place to stay and brought in my box
at once.
The old inn was one of the quaintest places imagin-
able, a solitary relic of some bygone age, for it was
very old indeed, almost ready to fall down. It was
situated in the oldest part of London and surrounded
on every side by narrow, dark streets and buildings
that were almost as old as it was. It was just such a
house as I had expected to find all over London but
which I didn't find in very great numbers. The hand
of progress has been laid too heavily on the city for
many such relics to survive.
The landlady was kind indeed to me. My work
was easy. She only asked me to help with the fires
in the morning, trim the candles, scrub sometimes,
and sweep the floors. It was pleasant work, and while
I was doing it I used to imagine that I was some boy
of the time of Washington. The idea, I thought, of
me being in this old English inn, trimming candles
and making fires in great'fire-places. I tell you it was
decidedly romantic.


I had the whole day to myself and could do just
what I pleased, in the afternoons, anyhow. You can
guess what I did. I walked from early morn till late
at night through those narrow, dark old streets, peek-
ing in at the many-paned windows of some old
princely dwelling and exploring every little court that
I came across. That was very little that I didn't see
in that most interesting quarter of London.
My first impressions of the British were perhaps
unique. I opened my mouth in perfect amazement
when I first saw the English girls. They were so very
different from American girls, and so different from
what I had expected to see. They all impressed me
as being tall and "willowy," as the English say.
They were all rather pale, save for a spot of red
(natural, I hope) which appeared on either cheek.
Their hair reminded me of that seen on most wax
dolls. They invariably made it stand out behind as
far as possible, and in front they frizzed it in the
fashion that went out here a decade ago. Their
clothes never seemed to fit them and were generally
far from being fashionable. Altogether, I could never
make myself believe that the English girl was any
extraordinary creation, though various Britons tried
their best to convince me of that fact.
I liked English men better. Their clothing particu-


larly caught my eye. It invariably fitted them, and
they always looked neat and clean, and as I have
never learned the secret of making that delightful
appearance, I was immediately impressed with them.
They were all very much alike, however, and decidedly
uninteresting as a whole. English boys were still
more uninteresting, if such a thing were possible.
They have not the saving grace of wearing nice
clothes, and for some time I always laughed when I
met one of them on the street. The fashions for boys'
clothing must have originated somewhere in the six-
teenth century; they seemed outrageous to me. The
poor boys' trousers must needs be strapped tightly to
their knees, and they very often wore the kind of
black jackets most affected by the waiters in Ameri-
can restaurants. They also wore large white collars
over these jackets, and altogether presented a comical
appearance to my critical Yankee eye.
I was soon much interested in observing the modes
of travel in London. There were no trolley cars, no
cable cars, and no elevated railways. But they have
what the good easy-going Londoners are pleased to
call trams." The name seems to express in its very
sound the idea of slow-pokiness. They go along at a
rate of about two miles an hour, and the people are
quite contented to ride in them. They are ten times


worse than our horse-cars, to say nothing of our swift
trolleys. But besides the trams there are omnibuses,
or "buses" for short. And these are not so bad;
in fact, they are very delightful to ride on. They go
along "middlin fast, and have seats on top, from
which you are in danger of falling, and that danger is
what makes the ride so delightful, for a risk is always
And then, in addition to the trams and buses, there
was that famous underground railway. It was beyond
description and a terrible thing to ride on. Running
through a dark, dirty tunnel for its whole distance, the
cars begrimed with dirt of every kind, the air enough
to choke one, it was an ordeal for me to sit there for
the few blocks I had to go. I never rode on the fa-
mous underground but once. It is well patronized,
however, by the Londoners. It is their nearest thing
to our elevated railroads, and they are obliged to use
it if they want to go anywhere in a hurry.
I liked the English people from the first. It is true
they appear cold and reserved at first, but I found
that when I once became acquainted I had friends
that could be depended upon. They are justly proud
of their English honor," though that doesn't extend
to national affairs. They have no memory, for instance,
of their defeats. I found that the majority of people


knew nothing about our revolutionary war, and the
school children told me that in school their teachers
scarcely mentioned it. I picked up one of their school
histories one day, and this is what I read: "About
this time there was some trouble with the colonies in
America. They suddenly evinced a hatred for the
mother country that was startling in its ferocity, but
things were soon made quiet again by the fleet and
army, which were both despatched to New York as
soon as the trouble commenced."
I was immensely interested in this extract, too, re-
ferring to the war of 1812: "The young American
Republic caused us some trouble in the year 1812.
They persisted in asserting their supremacy upon the
high seas, and we were compelled to subdue their
ridiculous attempts in the manner they deserved."
So England subdued us in 1812. Thisis news to most
Americans, I'm sure.
But on the whole I found that our English cousins
bore us no malice and were inclined to be very
friendly. It was in the talk of the men who used to
gather in our inn that I learned the most of the feel-
ing towards us. I also learned that every Englishman
hates Germany, for the simple reason that Germany
is pushing ahead in the foreign trade. And in the
conflict that every Englishman knows is sure to come,


they will look to us for help, for they have no ally in
Europe. Every one recognized the gravity of the sit-
uation, and Germany was the general topic of conver-
sation. And it was only two days till the Jubilee,


OF course the one great event to which I had
looked forward during the first days of my stay in
London was the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. The
great event which had occupied the attention of the
entire civilized world was now only two days off, and
I was consequently full of anticipations for a wonder-
ful time. I had been reading about it so constantly
for months beforehand that my expectations were
very much exaggerated, and I really expected some-
thing beyond description, though I had no very defi-
nite ideals of what the celebration should be.
There were many evidences on the day of my arrival
that the Jubilee was not far off. In St. Paul's church-
yard, and the other public squares through which the
procession was to pass, great stands had been erected,
which were capable of seating many thousand people.
Already enormous prices were being asked for seats,
running all the way from one pound up to a hundred.
Decorations in electric lights were being placed in
front of the Bank of England, the theaters, and the
principal stores, and every little cottage, no matter


how lowly, had begun to put out its bit of bunting
and the letters "V. R." in pasteboard or whatever was
most handy. All London seemed to be occupying
itself in decorating for several days beforehand, and
on the evening before the eventful day everything
was finished. The city had a marvelous appearance,
for they seem to know more about the art of decorat-
ing in England than we do. Not only bunting and elec-
tric bulbs were used, but there were also thousands of
pounds spent for flowers. Money wasn't considered,
so long as the whole was in honor of the Queen.
The preparations for a great crowd were on a large
scale. All the hotels and restaurants laid in provisions
for feeding a vast multitude of hungry folk, and every
one who could possibly spare a vacant room was adver-
tising it for rent, and at fabulous prices. There were
many predictions that the city couldn't contain such a
throng as would come, and others wagged their heads
and said that some of the grand stands were sure to
fall, and people would be crushed in the crowd, and
any number of other terrible things.
All Britain was interested in the weather, and there
were as many predictions as people almost. Many
were sure that it would rain, while others insisted
that the heavens would send down fire to celebrate
the wondrous occasion. The more sensible ones, how-
ever, were confident that the day would be fine.


I wasn't particularly enthusiastic over the event,
though I couldn't help but recognize the importance
of the Jubilee to the British people. They were proud
of the fact that no other nation had ever celebrated
such an occasion, and were crying "God save the
Queen" continually from morning until night. I
never saw so much enthusiasm, not even in a presiden-
tial campaign. And there were minor celebrations ar-
ranged all over the kingdom, so that the enthusiasm
was scarcely greater in London than in the thousands
of towns and villages in England and Scotland.
I awaited the day with more curiosity than enthusi-
asm. I was determined to show everybody that I didn't
care anything about royalty, and declined to show
any special interest in the proceedings. I decided
that it would be un-American to do so. The good
landlady at the inn couldn't understand how any one,
English or not, could keep from being excited, and
said that I must be ill, not to show any more enthu-
siasm for Her Majesty. I told her that at home we
had such events every four years, and therefore I had
become used to them. She looked at me in amaze-
ment. "Jubilees every four years!" she repeated;
" why, what have you got to have a jubilee over? I
explained to her that we didn't have jubilees, but
presidential elections, which were quite as good.


The great eventful day at last came round. I think
all London arose at about four o'clock that morning
just to see what the weather was like. They were
made happy by as fine a day as London ever had, for
the sun was shining brightly and there was scarcely a
cloud to mar the blue of the sky. At the first rays of
dawn the whistles were blowing all over the city and
the bells soon followed suit. Thus the day was
ushered in with a grand welcome to the Queen, who
had spent the night at Buckingham Palace.
At six o'clock most people had eaten their break-
fasts and were on their way to the streets through
which the procession was to pass. All the trams and
buses and the underground were crowded with pass-
engers, and many people had to walk great distances
in order to get there at all. But though there were
many in the Strand and the other thoroughfares at eight
o'clock, there was by no means the great crowd that
had been expected. I was there myself at that hour,
and I looked about me in vain for any signs of a jam.
It turned out that many had remained at home in the
daytime for fear of the crowd, and these all went to
the city at night, when there was a jam.
As I said, I was myself in the Strand at eight
o'clock, looking about me for some vantage spot from
which to view the procession. I saw with delight


that the grand stands were only about two thirds full,
so that many speculators lost money on their deals.
The crowd was not uncomfortably large, and I sup-
pose I would have been able to see everything from
the street, but I preferred to have a seat somewhere.
And as I looked around me for a place I spied the
church of St. Clement Danes, which has a wide ledge
running around it. I decided that this ledge would
be a good thing to sit on, for the church fronted
directly on the street, and in spite of the efforts of an
officer to make me keep off, there I was when the
procession finally passed.
There was very little noise of any kind, and I was
quite disgusted with such a crowd. I had supposed
that they would have a regular Fourth of July cele-
bration, but never was I more mistaken. The Eng-
lish take their fun more quietly. There was no traffic
at all in the accustomed thoroughfares, and but little
in any part of the great city. All of the prominent
stores closed the doors and most of the smaller ones
in the suburbs.
It was a long time before the procession arrived in
the Strand, but I saw much that interested me in the
interval. I Eaw in the street below all the types to be
found in London, the costers from Whitechapel, the
aristocrats from the West End, and the working class


from the suburbs. It was a wonderful panorama of
faces, for London is thoroughly cosmopolitan in its
It was easy to tell when the procession was nearing
me. The crowds grew more and more enthusiastic as
the music grew nearer and nearer, and I could see
them waving their hats far down the street as it came
in sight. There was a great crush when it finally
approached us, caused by the people rushing in from
the side streets. I was very glad that I had secured
my lofty perch, for many were trampled on before the
police restored order again.
It would be quite useless for me to describe the
great gorgeous pageant in detail, for it was beyond
description. It surpassed in its magnificence any-
thing that I had ever seen or read about, even in fairy
tales. I found myself holding my breath in admiration
as troop after troop of richly uniformed horsemen
rode by, almost near enough for me to touch them
with my hand. And then there were soldiers on foot,
who were quite as handsome as the mounted ones,
and there were detachments of marines from the
I was almost carried away by so much gold leaf
and rich red velvet, and when at last the carriages of
the royal family approached, I joined in the wild


enthusiasm which took possession of the crowd, and
found myself shouting "God Save the Queen" as
loud as any of them. I reproached myself for it after-
wards, though it was a perfectly natural thing for any
one to do under the circumstances.
After several divisions of mounted soldiers and
soldiers on foot had passed by, it was evident even to
a blind man that the carriage of the Queen had ar-
rived. The noise was almost deafening for a few mo-
ments, and I found myself wondering how she stood
so much din. When I stood up on my ledge I had no
difficulty at all in seeing her, and I held my breath as
I took my first view of a real live queen. As long as
she was in sight I stood there on tip-toe, straining
every nerve to take in all the details of her costume
and her person, for I didn't know then that I would see
her again. And I must say that I was disappointed
in what little I saw of her. The carriage passed
rapidly and I couldn't see her very well, but I was
sure that she wore no crown, and had not even a scep-
ter in her hand. I had fondly hoped to see her with
all her state robes, though if I had stopped to think,
I would have seen how impossible such a thing was.
To me she seemed short, dark completed, with gray
hair and eyes, as well as I could see, and with an air
of dignity that was certainly queenly. Her face didn't


seem half as cross as in her pictures, and I almost
thought she'd make a very good grandmother.
After her came some other members of the royal
family, the Prince of Wales, of course, and many
others, but there wasn't anything of real interest to
me after she had passed. Most of the crowd went
away, leaving the colonial troops and the others to
pass with only a feeble salutation.
I had to remain on my perch from necessity, but I
was so much occupied in thinking of the Queen that I
didn't really notice what else was in the procession.
"Am I disappointed in her?" I asked myself more
than once, and was obliged, in truth, to say that I was.
If she had only worn a crown I might have felt differ-
ently, but to me a queen without a crown is very much
like a church without a steeple, and deprived of much
that makes her attractive in the eyes of Americans at
least. All the pictures of queens in books have crowns
and scepters and flowing robes, and naturally I had
expected Queen Victoria to wear the same. But she
didn't, and one more of my boyish ideals was rudely
When the procession was over and the crowd had
thinned enough for me to leave my perch on St.
Clement Danes, I hurried to the little inn to tell the
good old lady what the Queen looked like. She had


been too feeble to go out, and since she hadn't seen
her ruler for many years she was curious to know if
she had changed much. Does she look better than
I?" she asked, pathetically, you know we are the
same age; and I wonder which is better looking now,"
she continued. Oh," I replied, she isn't as good-
looking as you. She looks old, and worried, and worn
with the weight of her heavy crown." The old lady's
face brightened. I always said I was glad I wasn't
in Victoria's place," she said.
Jubilee night was much more delightful than the
day had been. The streets everywhere were thronged
with people, especially in the district where the pro-
cession had passed in the morning. Every one seemed
to have turned out, even those who had remained at
home in the morning to avoid the crowd. The con-
sequence was, of course, that the crowd was much
greater than had been expected, and the police were
almost unable to handle it. It took me a half an hour
to walk one square in the Strand, so dense was the
The illuminations were superb. There were crowns
without number, and the letters "V. R." were in front
of almost every building. Then there were flags, and
pictures of the royal family, all made with electric
bulbs. It was all very beautiful, and I would have en-


joyed it had the crowd been smaller. I don't believe
any one had a good time, for it was four o'clock in the
morning before some of those from the suburbs reached
home. There were comparatively few accidents,
though, and, on the whole, the day was voted to have
been a grand success in every particular.
As for me, I had worn myself out completely trying
to see everything that was to be seen, and fighting my
way through the crowd to do so. I realized that it
would be many years before another event of such
magnitude would take place, and I determined to see
this one in all its glory. But, on the whole, I was
glad when it was over and I was safe in bed in my
attic. It was a wonderful day for a Yankee boy, and
I will remember it forever.


FOR several days after the great Jubilee had come
and gone, and London had settled down into a sem-
blance of its former self, I worked away contentedly
at the little inn. In the morning, at five o'clock, I
made the fire in the kitchen fire-place, for the cook-
ing was all done over an open fire. Then, when the
fire was made, I brushed the room out neatly and put
things in order for the arrival of the maid, who came
down at half past five.
When the kitchen was all clean, I went into the
little tap-room at the front of the building and swept
it out also, and every other morning I scrubbed it as
well. When the tap-room was clean, I took down all
the lamps and filled them with oil, for though the
dear old landlady had a horror of kerosene, and
wouldn't allow it in the bedrooms, she was obliged to
have it in the tap-room, for even Londoners won't
have candles in public offices. Every morning I
filled the scuttles with coal, piled a box full of wood,
and then, after I had run a few errands to the grocers
and other places round about, my day's work was


practically over. I was usually through by ten o'clock.
and then I had the rest of the morning and the after-
noon for my very own, and I made good use of my time.
I started out in a different direction each morning,
going one day to the East End, another to Hyde
Park; sometimes to Westminster, and again to Battersea
Park and the district south of the Thames. In that
way there was but little that I didn't see one time or
another, and I became quite a well-known character in
certain districts of the city. I used to spend a good
part of my time in Whitechapel and the neighborhood
most frequented by Jack the Ripper, of whose ter-
rible deeds I was never tired of hearing. I found a
weird fascination in looking up the houses where some
of his murders were committed, and I used to love to
explore the dark alley-ways and courts where he used to
walk about. And I enjoyed watching the coster-folk,
with their quaint little donkey-carts and queer cos-
tumes. They were so very different from any people
I had ever seen, and I was very much impressed with
them and their mode of life. The little donkeys
which they drive around from morning till night,
hitched to carts filled with vegetables, were a source
of never-ending enjoyment to me, and I never rested
until I had a ride behind one of them. I went up to
one of the costers one day, and begged him earnestly


to allow me to drive it just a block, and he laughingly
consented, a little too readily, it seemed to me. But
I didn't suspect anything, but jumped in, and started
off. I hadn't gone far before I found that I knew very
little about driving donkeys, for this one started off at
a great pace, and seemed determined to pitch me out
on the pavement. I saw that a catastrophe was im-
minent and decided to jump out, which I did, rolling
over and over on the cobble-stones. I just saved myself
from being run over by an approaching team and got
up not much the worse for my adventure, save for sev-
eral little bruises on my arms and legs. The wayward
donkey was stopped by a policeman a few blocks away,
and everything turned out all right. But thereafter
I admired the little beasts from a distance, having seen
quite enough of their peculiarities.
The coster-folk interested me more, I think, than
any other class of people in Europe. The girls, with
their everlasting blue dresses, feathered hats, and
stringy bangs, presented to my eye a most interesting
appearance. And when I saw them out at Hempstead
Heath one day, having a holiday, dancing to the music
of the street pianos, I decided that they were a strange
set. They weren't pretty, and their clothing was
after a fashion of their own, but they were honest,
hard-working, and decent in every way, so that every


one in London must respect them, though most people
wouldn't be associated with them. They live apart
from every one else, in a district of their own. They
have their own pleasures, sorrows, and temptations,
and they battle with them bravely. Altogether, I
learned to have a very high respect for them and
thought a great deal more of them than I did of the
aristocrats of the West End.
Two or three days in the Hyde Park district gave
me a wondrous insight into the city's fashionable life,
and when I managed to make my way to the Duchess
of Devonshire's famous fancy-dress ball, I saw all the
aristocracy of England in one mansion. The ball had
been looked forward to and talked about for months
beforehand, and was to be the chief social event of
the Jubilee season. I read about it every day in the
papers until I finally determined to attend it if such a
thing were possible. It was an occasion that I
shouldn't miss, if I wanted to see anything of high
life in London. I puzzled my brain for several days,
trying to think of a way to gain admittance to the
ball. At last it occurred to me to see the Chamber-
lain, and perhaps he could arrange for me to look on
from a distance. I went up to Devonshire House and
saw the gentleman, telling him of my trip from Amer.
ica and how very anxious I was to see the ball. He


was very pleasant to me and said that if I would pre-
sent myself at a certain door on the eventful night he
would see that I got in and had a place to watch the
proceedings. So I did as he told me, and sure enough
he had left orders for me to be admitted.
I was conducted through several rooms, and finally
entered a dressing-room, where the footman handed
me a servant's uniform, which he told me to put on.
I was astonished at this, but he explained that I would
have to be either a servant or a guest, and it would be
safer for me to be a servant, since all the guests were
known, and there were no boys among them. I
donned the uniform, and I was placed in one of the
doors opening to the ball-room. Stand right here,"
said the man, and don't say a word to any one. You
couldn't have a better place to see the ball."
I was in ecstasies of delight. The very novelty of
my position, a servant to an English duke, was enough
to make me happy, and then I was to see all the
famous earls and dukes in Britain, and the Prince and
Princess of Wales as well. It was a great occasion for
me, and I stood as still as I could until the guests
began to arrive. The great ball-room was one great
mass of flowers and ferns, and hundreds of candles
made the chandeliers brilliant with light; The orches-
tra was stationed in a ferny nook off the large room,


and everything seemed too perfect. The Duke of
Devonshire is probably the wealthiest man in Eng-
land and one of the leading Peers, so expense was
not considered in the decorations.
It would be impossible to describe that wonderful
night. As I look back upon it, I think it must have
been a dream, for it was a veritable night in fairyland.
The brilliant costumes of the ladies, the handsome uni-
forms of the men, and the jewels that sparkled every-
where, made the scene more like some fairy frolic than
an actual London ball. There were dukes and
duchesses without number, and earls and countesses
and knights innumerable. Some of the ladies wore
their coronets, and that of the Princess of Wales im-
pressed me particularly, being the nearest thing I had
seen to a crown. I was always on the lookout for
crowns during my stay in London, and the only one
I saw was locked up in the Tower, where it didn't
look queenly in the least, but more like some tawdry
stage affair.
I played my role of servant to perfection, and the
entire evening passed without any incident, as far as I
was concerned. I was near enough on several occa-
sions to have touched the Prince of Wales, but no one
said anything to me, and I stood as quiet as a mouse.
I was glad, though, when it was all over, though I


wouldn't have missed it for anything. Even royalty,
though, becomes tiresome, when you have to stand up
all the time to look at it. I thanked the Chamberlain
most heartily for his great kindness to me, but he said
he often did that, and sometimes made a good sum
through it, too.
All the time that I was exploring the East End
and attending fancy-dress balls at Devonshire House,
I was wondering how I was going to make some
money during my stay in London. I wasn't spending
very much of my twenty-five dollars, but I wanted to
have a little more than that, if possible, when I left
London for the Continent. And though I thought a
great deal about the subject, the only feasible plan was
for me to venture into London journalism, and this
didn't seem very easy to do, either. I had been very
much impressed with London papers from the first.
They were so staid and commonplace, and so academic
in style, compared to our American journals. It took
me some time to find any news in them at all, though
I finally became partially acquainted with them and
learned the location of the various departments pretty
thoroughly. At first I didn't like them at all, but
before I left London I became used to them, and
decided that they were not so very bad, though they
didn't have any pictures.


They never have any reading matter on the front
page and very little on any page. A few American
papers are copying them in the plan of giving the first
page over to advertising, but I don't think it has
proved a very great success. Then in the arrangement
of the news, and in the news itself, there is a wonderful
difference. They never give the details of things that
happen. The mere fact that some one has been foully
murdered, or that China has been seized by Russia,
is not deemed sufficient excuse for printing more than a
bare paragraph or two, in which the fact itself is stated
and nothing else. There is none of the elaboration
and detail that one sees in American dailies, and there
are no "scare-heads "; just a plain line in small type.
They devote much space to little paragraphs relating
the events of the day in various European capitals,
something which we never do, since we are not much
interested in the movements of Prince or Princess
Blank of Austria or Montenegro or some other out-
of-the-way place. One of the strangest departments to
Americans is the invariable "Court Circular which
all the papers print. It is very short, and records in
quaint language the doings of the previous day at
Windsor, or Balmoral, or wherever the Queen happens
to be staying. This is the way it runs. Isn't it
funny ?


"The Queen drove out yesterday morning, accom-
panied by H. R. H., Princess Henry of Battenburg.
"The Hon. Harriet Lane has been succeeded as
lady in waiting to Her Majesty by the Hon. Char-
lotte Long.
The Hon. Sir Slowwood Edwins has arrived at the
As soon as I had determined to try and write for
London papers, I went to the Evening News and
asked to see the editor. The boy at the door in-
sisted upon knowing what I wanted to see him about,
and I was obliged to confess that it was only manu-
script that I had. And I didn't believe I would get
in at all after such a damaging confession, but the boy
must have described my appearance, for the editor sent
for me to come in. I went upstairs and entered his
sanctum, and when I was seated I related to him the
story of my adventures since I left home. I told him
that I had considerable ability as a journalist, too, for
I hoped to impress him that way. I had been told
that London editors valued you at your own price, and
I determined that I wouldn't be turned away because
I had a poor opinion of myself. The plan succeeded
well, for he told me to write two thousand words about
my trip and bring it up in the morning. "I'll give
you thirty shillings for it," he said, and my heart


bounded at the mere idea. Thirty shillings would be
great wealth to me.
The editor was much pleased with my article, and
when it was printed it caused some discussion in other
papers. It was a good introduction for me, and after
that I sold several little articles before I left for the
Continent. I was received with great cordiality in the
newspaper offices, for even London editors appreciate
enterprise, though it be found in a Yankee boy. They
were always kind and genial, and did much to encour-
age me to keep on. They never gave me very much
for my writings, but altogether I made nearly thirty
dollars during the time I was in London, and I was
satisfied with my success.
Not all the papers received me kindly, however. I
hadn't been in the city long before Mr. Jerome K.
Jerome came out in his paper and criticised me and
the papers which had printed my articles. He said
that I was a boy who was out for adventure, and who
didn't know anything more about real journalism than
a young African. He then went on to pick something
I had written to pieces, and when I read his criticisms
I felt as though the earth had fallen from under my
feet. It was the first unkind thing that had been
written about me, and it was all so cruel and untrue.
I allowed it to worry me more than I should have, no


doubt, and my friends said it would do me much more
good than harm, but somehow I wasn't satisfied to let
it pass, and determined to call on Mr. Jerome. I
found him in his office, and for some time our inter-
view was rather peppery, but finally he understood my
ambitions and my object in coming to England, and
we became very good friends. He told me to write
him an article, which I did, and it was printed the
next week, with an apology for what he had written.
Thus I won my first journalistic battle, and I was more
happy than I can tell. The other editors congratu-
lated me on my success, and my sky was bright once


FROM the very first day that the idea of going to
Europe entered my head, the event to which I had
looked forward with the greatest delight was an inter-
view with Mr. Gladstone. I determined to see him
before I left New York, and told the World that
I would send them the interview when I saw him. I
had an idea that it would be very easy to get, for
though I knew that he had retired from public life, I
thought he would surely see me after I had traveled so
far and depended so much on the favor. The paper,
of course, said that I wouldn't be able to see him, but
then papers had said that I wouldn't reach Europe,
too, and the mere fact that they doubted my ability
made me more determined than ever to see Mr. Glad-
When I reached England, one of the very first things
I did was to send a note out to Hawarden Castle. In
this note I related my experiences to a certain extent,
and told him how very anxious I was for an interview.
I made my argument as strong as possible and ex.
pected a favorable reply. But in a few days an an-


swer came, written by Mr. Gladstone's secretary," in
which it was stated that the Grand Old Man was quite
too ill to see any one, though he would very much like
to grant my request.
I was almost disheartened when I read this, but I
couldn't give up so easily, and sat down and wrote an-
other letter, stronger even than the former one. I:told
him of my promise to the New York editor, and tried
to make him understand how important to me it was,
but though I waited several days for a reply, none came.
Then I decided to make a trip to Hawarden village,
for I just must have that interview. It was a long
way to Hawarden, clear across England and into
Wales, though we wouldn't call that a great distance
in America, only about two hundred and fifty miles.
A few days later there was a cheap excursion on the
railway, and I set out for Hawarden. It was a tire-
some ride, and I was obliged to change cars some five
or six times before I finally reached the village, for it
is in an out-of-the-way corner of the kingdom. I found
it to be a beautiful little spot, however, and well worth
visiting, even if Mr. Gladstone didn't live there. It
consists of a single long, straggling street, with low-
roofed, thatched cottages on either side, and one of
the quaintest little churches in all England. Mr. Glad-
stone's second son is rector of the parish, and the en-


tire Gladstone family is seen at church on Sundays,
and usually on week-days as well. Even the Grand
Old Man, feeble as he is, can be seen walking down
the village street at seven in the morning, going to
attend the early service. The village is filled with
strangers every Sunday, who only come for the privi-
lege of seeing Mr. Gladstone at church. He used to
always read the lessons, but of late he has become so
feeble that he can no longer fill this duty, and the at-
tendance has consequently fallen off considerably.
Many still come, however, content to watch him wor-
shiping with the village throng.
The first thing I did upon my arrival in the village
was to call upon Mr. Stephen Gladstone, the rector.
I hoped to persuade him to take me up to the castle
to see his father, for I knew it would be useless for
me to go alone and try to gain admittance. I was
pleasantly received at the rectory, and Mr. Stephen
was very much interested in my story. He asked me
many questions, and said that he would really be very
glad to take me to see his father but was afraid to do so.
"The fact is," he said, "I am afraid to take you. I
once took a bishop up there, and when we got there
my father wouldn't see him, so you see what a posi-
tion I was in. He doesn't receive any one but old
friends any more, and I wouldn't care to risk a repeti-
tion of my experience with the bishop."


Of course I couldn't blame him for feeling this way.
He seemed to be in fear of his father, and there was
no use arguing the point any further. But he, how-
ever, didn't seem to give up entirely, and asked me to
call again the next morning. I may be able to ar-
range it some way; I don't know," he said, as I left.
So I went away hopeful.
When I mentioned to the villagers that I had
come to try and see Mr. Gladstone, they all laughed
and said that I had come on a wild-goose chase, for he
wouldn't see any one any more. "W'y," they said,
" 'e won't see even the big folks what comes 'ere,"
and they nodded their heads, as though that fact
ought to discourage me from any further attempt to
see him.
When I went to the rectory the next morning I
wasn't as hopeful as I had been the night before. The
talk of the villagers, and observations I had made
around the castle itself, made me doubt whether I
would see him after all. And the rector couldn't give
me any hope. He hadn't been able to think of any
plan for me, and said that he didn't believe he could
be of any use in the project at all. I would like to
ever so much," he said, but you know my position."
I did know his position, for I had learned from the
villagers that the old statesman was autocrat in his


own family, and I understood Mr. Stephen's unwilling-
ness to take any one that he might not wish to see.
But though the rector couldn't take me, he was
ready with suggestions. "You might go up to the
castle yourself," he said, "and ask to see my sister
Helen, but I doubt if she will help you any. You
mustn't mind if she snubs you, for you know how she
is." I had heard how she was also in the village, and
I didn't think I was particularly anxious to meet her,
but that seemed the only thing to do, and my only
chance of seeing Mr. Gladstone. I had asked the
people in the village how I could get in the castle my-
self, and they replied that I couldn't get in at all, and
I needn't try. But I determined to use every possible
means to see him before acknowledging defeat.
On the third morning of my stay, therefore, I de-
cided to go up to the castle and see Miss Helen Glad-
stone. I made my way through the handsome park
surrounding it, and in a few minutes stood in front of
the superb building itself. It is a beautiful structure,
and I was dumb with admiration. It was my first real
castle. Around it I saw a high wall, which I certainly
couldn't climb, so the only way to get in was to go
through the great gate. This I did, walking along
unconcernedly, as though I belonged in the village,
and I passed unmolested. Once within the gate, I


went up to the main entrance, and, ringing the bell,
asked to see Miss Helen Gladstone. "What name
shall I say ? the footman growled. Oh, she doesn't
know me," I replied, but tell her that it's on import-
ant business."
In a few moments Miss Gladstone made her appear-
ance, dressed ready to go out on her bicycle. She
wasn't very pleasant looking, and when she spoke I
involuntarily jumped. She asked me what I wanted,
and I told her how much I wanted to see Mr. Glad-
stone, and who I was. Then she began to scold, and
gave me what we say at home is a good talking to."
It seemed that it was she who answered my letter, and
she was angry that I should presume to come out to
Hawarden after she had written me not to do so. I
did my best to persuade her to listen to me, but she
said that it was impossible and that was all there was
to it. I then said that Mr. Gladstone was able to
walk out and I didn't see why he couldn't see me.
But she said that it was out of the question. She
walked away and left me standing there, after saying
some very decided things. I'll be back again in the
morning," I yelled, as she went away. "Well, you
needn't," she said; "it won't do you any good."
Oh, will I ever, ever see him," I said to myself, as
I walked down the path. I've said I will, and I will,
but I wish I hadn't promised."


The next morning I again presented myself at the
castle door, and Miss Helen came when I sent for her.
She was surprised to see me there again, but I could
see that she was also impressed by my persistency,
and I followed up my advantage. Finally she said
that she would leave it all to Mr. Gladstone and give
me a chance, anyhow, though she didn't think he
would receive me. So in she went and was soon
back. Yes, Mr. Gladstone would see me. My heart
bounded at the news.
When I entered the famous library where Mr. Glad-
stone spends most of his time, he was seated in a deep
arm chair, leaning back among several cushions and
wrapped in a shawl. I was impressed at once with
his feebleness and great age. I had thought of him
so much as a great public man that I had forgotten
his age, so I was shocked by his worn appearance.
He looked much older than any of his pictures
make him to look. As he raised his handsome head
on my entrance, I was immediately impressed with his
great personality. His greatness was evident in every
movement he made, and one couldn't be in the room
with him and not know that he was a great, a wonder-
ful man. I was impressed with him from the first.
He allowed me to take his hand, and told me to
pull up a chair and sit down. Then he opened -the

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