Front matter (continued 9)

THURSDAY, MAY 8.—Our magnificent French cook had macaroni for dinner today, and, while I liked it better than the Italian way of preparing it, I did not like it so well as the American way. Italian macaroni did not please my taste. It was not cooked enough, to begin with, and had the tomato sauce baked into it. It is a sight to see Italians eat macaroni. It is cooked in long strings, and the Italians poke it into their mouths in a fashion that is not at all pleasing.... Six whales were in sight at one time this afternoon, and probably there were many more in the school we did not see. An hour later, we ran into the biggest lot of porpoises I have ever seen. They were quite close to the ship, on both sides of it, and seemed to be following us. A porpoise looks like a fish weighing twenty-five to forty pounds, and leaps entirely out of the water when in a sportive mood. Jumping out of the water is probably a fish’s method of taking a bath.... We have our chairs on the upper or hurricane deck, and, when we take a walk, pass the wireless room, where an operator sits all day and night with receivers at his ears, to catch any call that may be in the air. When the operator reads, he has the receivers fastened to his ears, and I have seen him eating dinner in his room when rigged up in the same queer way.... A dove has been following the ship several days. It is very tired, and this morning I saw it attempt to light on the waves; then it fluttered up into the rigging, and rested there awhile.... Near the entrance to the dining-room there is a notice in French and English. Among other things, it says the management will appreciate the courtesy if passengers dress for luncheon and dinner. We are wondering what a proper dress for luncheon is. The rules also say that dogs are not allowed on board, but one has the run of the ship; and, since he is the only nuisance on board, we wonder that the officers stand for it. I never cared much for those who go crazy about dogs. Senator Vest, of Missouri, once wrote a false and sentimental tribute to dogs, and the Dog People were so much encouraged by it that they are very pronounced nuisances everywhere. No one has a right to keep a dog that is a nuisance to others; whoever does not know this is unfair and impolite in other ways.... The big ship “Canada” is doing a very fair job of pitching this afternoon, but we have been at sea so long that we do not mind it. There is a noticeable thinning-out on the steerage deck. So far, we have been at sea fifty-three days since leaving San Francisco, and have been seasick only four or five days. We were sick three days on the Pacific, and two between Australia and New Zealand, but during the last forty-seven days at sea we have experienced no inconvenience. I sleep at night as I never slept before in my life; there is just enough motion to rock me to sleep.... In Italy, a traveler from the United States wonders at the general use of wine. All classes drink it, and it is very cheap; I bought a bottle of very good wine in Naples for six cents. The poor people use it instead of gravy or milk; on the ship, I see emigrants soaking their bread in wine. Every vacant plot of ground in Naples is devoted to grapes and vegetables. In the heart of the town, wherever you find a vacant lot, you find a garden. I have never seen anything growing in Italy except vegetables and fruit; I wonder where the wheat comes from with which they make macaroni? The Italians say American flour makes better bread than the Italian flour, but inferior macaroni. The Italians are poor, as a rule, but nearly all of them are fat; particularly the women. The poor people of Italy do not eat meat once a week; the Italian emigrants on the ship get it twice a day. But they are very wasteful of it, and complain as much as though they had always been accustomed to the very best. One of the officers says that on the last trip, the ship was compelled to bring back twenty-two emigrants who failed to pass the examination in New York. The charge against one man was that he had been a professional beggar. This man made a great deal of trouble during the voyage to New York; he was always finding fault with the food, although it was abundant. I asked the officer why the ship gave the emigrants so much food that they threw it overboard; his reply was that the Italian commissioner on board insisted on a liberal supply, and the captain was at his mercy. The emigrants are pretty well crowded in their sleeping quarters; one hundred and fifty men sleep in one room, in a bed which runs up in broad tiers. If the owners of the English ships running between Australia and New Zealand ever hear of this, they will die of mortification because of their moderation in putting only four in a room.... We had a moving-picture show last night, with the explanatory lecture in French.... The barber who shaves me every morning says he has been going to sea a good many years, but never started on a voyage on Friday; that a ship never leaves its initial port on Friday. The barber is mistaken. For thirty years or more, the P. & O. line has sent a ship out of London every Friday. Nine-tenths of all you hear is untrue. The barber also says that the famous expression, “See Naples and die,” is founded on a play on words. In the bay of Naples there is an island called Morreai, which in Italian, means something connected with death. The original saying was, “See Naples and Morreai,” but in a spirit of levity the English translated the saying, “See Naples and die.”

FRIDAY, MAY 9.—This afternoon we passed the “Lusiana,” an Italian emigrant ship also bound for New York. The “Lusiana” left Naples a day before we did, but it is slow, and we overhauled it. We passed it within a hundred yards, and marveled at the manner in which it pitched and rolled; probably the big “Canada” was cutting up in a similar manner, viewed from the decks of the “Lusiana,” which were black with emigrants. The emigrants did a good deal of cheering as we passed.... The “Canada” is also a faster ship than the “Princess Irene,” the favorite, and we are hoping that we may overtake it, and jeer at the passengers. The “Princess Irene” had a start of nearly twenty-four hours, as it did not stop at Palermo.... By-the-way, as we left the “Lusiana” behind, I caught the geographies in a ridiculous error. They all say that at sea, the last sight of a disappearing vessel is the top of its masts; which proves, the geographies say, that the world is round. The curvature of the earth is something like an inch to the mile, so that the funnels of a ship would not disappear under five hundred miles, if one could see that far. Three hours after we passed the “Lusiana,” it was a mere speck on the horizon, but we could plainly see its hull. After it had entirely disappeared from view by the naked eye, we could see its hull with the aid of glasses. The ships were probably fifteen miles apart when we finally lost sight of the “Lusiana,” and the difference between them, in the curvature of the earth, did not exceed fifteen inches.... The hull of the “Canada” is white, and it must have presented a very pretty sight to the passengers on the “Lusiana,” who were all of one class: emigrants. But down below, the “Canada” is probably a little untidy. Everything below its two top decks is crowded with emigrants, and they are not very clean. In the evening, they sing a great deal; a trombone-player, en route to New York to join an Italian band, leads with his instrument. Among the first-class passengers is an Italian opera-singer who is about as good as any of the second-rate tenors at the Metropolitan Opera House, and he sings every evening.... Nearly all the emigrants seem to wear home-made socks and shoes. Most of them are young men; I doubt if there are two hundred women in the entire lot. Many of them have been over before, and will return home when outdoor work ceases next winter, as the price of the passage is only $25. The weather is chilly, and the emigrants sit on deck wrapped in blankets furnished them by the steamship company. In addition to a blanket, each is given a sack stuffed with straw, and on these they sleep. Nearly all of them eat in groups on deck, and this morning I saw them pouring olive oil into tin cups containing either coffee and bread, or wine and bread, I could not tell which.... I write this at a table in a little alcove on deck, and the screaming of the emigrants as they excitedly talk to each other amounts to a roar. This noise is in my ears continuously, except when I go to my room, which is amidships, and far removed from the emigrant decks forward and aft.... The cooking on the ship continues to astonish us, it is so excellent. So far, we have not had a dish duplicated at lunch or dinner. You would think anyone could scramble eggs; it may be difficult to unscramble them, as the late J. P. Morgan once observed, but there should be little difference in the process of scrambling them. I am fond of scrambled eggs, and have been eating them all my life, but the manner in which they are prepared in the “Canada’s” kitchen is new and delightful. This morning I asked the chief steward to take Adelaide into the kitchen, to learn the chef’s secret of scrambling eggs. Adelaide says one secret of his delicious cooking is that everything is reeking in butter. It is possible that a German or English crew would suit me better than the French crew of the “Canada,” when it comes to the general work of the ship, but the kitchen and dining-room, and sleeping-rooms, are better managed on this ship than on any other with which I have been familiar on two voyages around the world, and three shorter trips by sea. I do not want any better accommodations than I have on the “Canada.” ... Much as I admire the Germans, I cannot help noting that their language does not sound as well as French or Italian. To a man who does not understand languages, the German sounds worst of all, unless it is the Russian. On the “Burgermeister,” where we heard German constantly for more than three weeks, we used to laugh at its funny sounds. I know of no uglier sounding word than the German word “yaw,” which means “yes.” If I were a young man, and should propose to a young and beautiful German girl, and she should reply with what poets say is the sweetest of all words, yaw, I should feel disposed to run away to South America, or South Africa, or some other country where it is too hot.... I have never known anyone to struggle quite so hard against baldness as the barber on the “Canada.” When his hair is in order, it looks all right, but the other morning, while I was being shaved, the window blew open, and the barber’s hair went to pieces. He is bald, but has cultivated a lot of long hair on the side of his head which he combs over his baldness. The wind threw this long hair out of place, and as it flapped around, the barber was as flustrated as an old maid suddenly discovered in her night-gown.... Speaking of the barber reminds me that he says all the officers of the “Canada,” except the captain, wanted more pay, a few months ago, and walked out just before the ship was to sail from Marseilles. The ship had a big lot of passengers aboard, but the general manager was stubborn, and he fooled around for a week before he could find another set of officers.... We hear on the upper deck that the six hundred Sicilians among the emigrants are not as good workers as the fourteen hundred Italians; and that in addition to being lazy, the Sicilians use a knife with very little provocation. In Sicily, you hear a great deal of the vendetta, wherein a man will knife another man who is a second cousin to an enemy.... This morning we passed the Azore islands, where Columbus stopped on his famous voyage. Usually the “Canada” passes between the islands, and quite close to shore, but owing to rain and mist we passed on the longer and safer course.

SATURDAY, MAY 10.—It turned out just as the barber predicted: Behind the Azores we encountered rough seas, and the big ship “Canada” has been jumping today like a greyhound. The wind is blowing heavily, and there is an occasional shower of rain. After every shower, there is a rainbow; one of them made a bow over the stern of the ship, and followed us for fifteen minutes. We were late for breakfast this morning, but the steward said we were the first ones in, and no others came while we were there. We have suffered no inconvenience from the rough weather, except that we became tired of bracing ourselves. The sailors dislike rough weather; they do not become seasick, but rough weather at sea is disagreeable, as it is on land, and results in gloomy thoughts and bad tempers. Rough weather rolls you about in your bed at night, and the most experienced sailor cannot sleep as well as he can when the weather is good.... I have frequently mentioned the barber. On every ship, the barber shop is headquarters for news. In the days before newspapers, people went to the barber-shops for the gossip of the day. The “Canada’s” barber is a German, but speaks French and English. He lived in London four years, and told me today that he found, after learning English in London, that Americans could not understand him very well. Which corroborates my statement that the people of the United States and the English do not speak the same language.... The man on the “Canada” who has least to do is the barkeeper. I have not seen a single drink ordered in the dining-room. On the “Burgermeister,” nearly everyone ordered something from the bar at luncheon and dinner, and paid extra for it, but on the “Canada,” two kinds of wine are furnished free. The profit from liquor on the German ship must have been enormous. Two kinds of keg beer, light and dark, were sold, and nearly everybody drank one or the other. The weather was very warm nearly all the time I was on the “Burgermeister,” and the cold beer was particularly agreeable. But on the “Canada,” I have not seen the barkeeper fill a half-dozen orders. The weather is chilly, and we wear our heaviest winter clothing; besides, there is no German beer on draught.... This is the sixth day out, and we have had strawberries every day. It is surprising how fresh and palatable the cook manages to make everything taste. We are paying about seven dollars a day each for our accommodations on this ship, which include two rooms on the best deck, a private bath, three of the best meals I have ever eaten, and bouillon at 11 A. M., and tea at 4 P.M. We would be charged about the same price in the second-class on the big Atlantic liners. The “Canada” is a new ship, working for a reputation; that is the only explanation I know of. Anyone going abroad, by taking this line, sees Palermo, in Sicily, and Naples, in Italy, on the way, landing finally at Marseilles, in France. Some of the other ships of the line stop at Lisbon, in Portugal, and at the Azores, also.... You can pay almost any price for accommodations at sea. It is said John Jacob Astor paid $5,000 for accommodations on the “Titanic,” and the management didn’t do a thing but drown him. He had three or four rooms, two baths, a private dining-room, etc. Speaking of J. J. Astor reminds me that he made financial mistakes, as well as the rest of us. In closing up his estate it was found that he had ten million dollars worth of securities which were practically worthless. But Astor could drive a hard bargain, on occasion. He once found a man who was hard up, and who wanted to sell a yacht which cost half a million dollars. The yacht was new, and the man thought he ought to have $450,000 for it. But Astor finally got it for $90,000. ... There is a man on board who is the best newspaper scholar I have ever known. He is familiar with everything that has appeared in the newspapers for the past twenty or thirty years. I have posted myself on the news of the past five months by talking to him. He is very entertaining, and quite modest; he frequently says: “I know nothing about it myself; I only know what I read in the newspapers.” I have never before known a man quite like him.... We have dinner at 6:30 on the “Canada,” but the passengers never come into the dining-room until a quarter of an hour later, when the table d’hôte dinner begins. At the fine Hotel Vesuve, in Naples, the dinner hour was 7:30, but the guests were always a quarter of an hour late.... Our guide in Naples was a rather sullen American, and we learned today that he was formerly a very rich man. His father died seven years ago, and left him a fortune, but he ran through with it, and is now a guide, at $2 a day. He spent most of his money in Monte Carlo, at the gambling-tables. This information I get from the newspaper scholar, quoted above, who is an old traveler. He says he knows the guide well, but refused to give me his name. I have the guide’s card, but the newspaper scholar says it is not his real name.

SUNDAY, MAY 11.—The bad weather continues, and we cannot take our usual walks. We sit in a protected place on the upper deck, wrapped in rugs, and talk about getting home. Adelaide has decided that she does not care to remain in New York long; that she wants to get home as soon as possible; so if we reach that city Thursday night, as expected, Friday afternoon will see us on a railroad train headed westward.... While on the Pacific ocean, I met a life insurance man named Adams, who told me that he traveled constantly, and that his expenses, afloat and ashore, averaged $11 a day. He kept no expense account, he said; at the end of the year he charged the company $11 a day for expenses, and that was almost exactly what he spent. Today I made a calculation, and found that the present trip has cost us $11 a day each, almost to a penny. So if you want to know what traveling costs, here is an estimate you may depend upon. This means rapid traveling, by railroad and steamship, and sightseeing in the towns with the assistance of a guide. The estimate includes the purchases a traveler is compelled to make, and cannot be reduced much unless you travel second-class, and deny yourself many things. At Palermo, we hired a guide, and drove about nearly all day in a new two-horse carriage, with liveried driver. The expense was considerable, but we saw dozens of things that those who did not take a guide and carriage, failed to see.... A stewardess on the “Canada” has enormous feet. She is rather a pretty woman, but her feet are much too big. Americans have smaller feet than any other race.... There is a young man on board who has a tremendous lot of hair, which he never combs. There is something peculiar about him, and today we found out what it is: he is an artist.... There is a woman on board who left New York in February, a bride. She said to me today: “I’m not happy; but I’m as happy as married women usually are, and am content.” I’ve been thinking about the statement, and have almost concluded that she is a smart woman. Isn’t she smarter than the woman who marries, expects to be happy, is disappointed, and becomes sour over her disappointment? ... I see that Edward Bok, editor of the Ladies’ Home Journal, is offering prizes to husbands who will write the best articles under this title: “Why I Wanted My Wife to Become My Wife.” The prize articles will be written by sentimentalists who will write, not the truth, but what the editor wants. The husbands who know the truth about marriage, rarely tell it.... A man on board is a great reader, and gets a new book out of the library every day. He sits near me on deck, and frequently criticises the authors of the books he reads. Still, it is easier to be a great critic than it is to be a great author.... This man knows many things I never heard of. He says he once knew a boy only seven years old who was an ordained preacher in the Methodist church. I knew better, but I did not argue with him. I’ve quit arguing; I hear foolish statements every day without contradicting them. In the smoking-room today I heard a man say that a cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church need not be a priest, and that a cardinal might marry if he chose. Another man said Mark Twain was once a preacher, and had a regular charge.

MONDAY, MAY 12.—This has been the most disagreeable day of the voyage. The wind blew a hurricane, but shifted so frequently that it kept the sea down, although it was so bad that most of the passengers were ill. The captain, when he came down to breakfast, said to the few present: “I’m sorry.” Meaning the weather; he had promised us a fine voyage. The captain is a very polite man; when he comes into the dining-room, in the morning, he speaks to most of the passengers, and goes about to shake hands with some of them. He is very solicitous of those who are ill, but Captain Trask, of the American ship “Sonoma,” thought it a disgrace to be seasick, and would barely speak to any of his passengers so afflicted. He used to say he was never seasick in his life, and that seasickness was “just a notion.” ... Adelaide, the farmer’s daughter, does not mind the terrific motion of the ship, but I have a slight headache, and do not care to eat much.... The barber says conditions down among the emigrants are bad. Most of them are in bed, in rooms containing hundreds. All the married couples occupy one large room, and sleep in their clothes. The unmarried women occupy another large room, and the unmarried men another. There are tables down below, where the emigrants may eat their food, but they eat on deck when the weather will permit. For breakfast they are given a soup thick with vegetables, and coffee; for dinner and supper they have boiled meat, potatoes, macaroni, onions, wine, and bread. They are given so much to eat that we all note the manner in which they waste it.... During the worst of the storm today, a large woman sitting on deck attempted to go below. She foolishly attempted to descend an open stairway, and the wind blew her skirts over her head. This rendered her hysterical, and she began screaming. Seven stewards were required to carry her to her room, from which retreat she sends word on deck that she is so humiliated that we will not see her again.... Owing to the storm, our run was cut down to 368 miles today. The storm seemed very serious to us, but on the log, the officers described it simply as: “Rough sea; north-west gale.”

TUESDAY, MAY 13.—At 10 o’clock this morning we ran into a smooth sea, and the sun struggled out. By 11 A.M. all the emigrants were on deck, chattering as usual.... The chief steward gave us declaration blanks at breakfast; which means we are nearing New York.... We are in communication today with five other steamships, and Cape Race. The cost of a wireless message of ten words to the United States is marked on the bulletin board as $3.80.... Every day of the voyage we have had a different fish for dinner; apparently as fresh as when caught. I shall long remember the King fish as the best of the lot. The butter is also surprisingly fresh, considering the fact that no farmers can come in with a fresh supply. I shall always remember my voyage on the “Canada” as the most endurable I have ever made; and in my time I have been a passenger on two dozen different ships. The passengers are quiet and polite, and there has been no talk of Sports; no games of any kind are played, and it has been an ideal voyage in all respects, except two days of bad weather.... The barber, a German, intends to quit. He says he likes the French crew; that he gets along better with them than he got along with his own countrymen on some boats, but he is not earning as much as he thinks he should. A small passenger list is pleasant for the passengers, but disastrous to the ship’s employees.... We had artichokes for dinner today. I wonder where the idea originated that they are good to eat? They seem to be very popular in Italy; I saw great stacks of them in Naples and Palermo.... One of the women passengers appeared at dinner tonight wearing an automobile bonnet and gauntlet gloves. I do not bother myself much about taste in women’s dress, but that shocked me. Another woman passenger is too ill to appear in the dining-room for her meals, but is able to sit in the smoking-room every evening, and puff cigarettes. I’ll never become accustomed to women smoking.... The young man who paints pictures in oil, and who has a shock of hair which he never combs, is extremely good-natured. Which means that he can’t paint much. A genius is always cross and impolite.... The emigrants are not allowed to buy beer, so those in the second-cabin buy it, and hand it over to the emigrants. I cannot see much difference between the passengers in the second-cabin and the emigrants. Many of the second-cabin passengers have friends among the emigrants, and visit them a good deal. Two of the second-cabin passengers are young French girls, accompanied by their mother. We hear they are going to the United States to get rich husbands. The opinion prevails abroad that America is full of rich men who will take nearly anything in the way of a wife. It is a mistake. America has more attractive girls than any other country, and half of them are compelled to get jobs.... The Americans in the first-cabin live mainly in New York and Boston; we are the only Westerners.... One of the passengers in the first-cabin is a woman with two children. She has perfect manners, and is no doubt a good woman, but I have somehow got the notion that her husband doesn’t appreciate her at her true value. The other women say she is All Soul, but probably her husband thinks that is the trouble with her; I never knew a spiritual woman to please any man except her pastor. I am satisfied that within a few hours after her arrival home, she will say to her husband: “I would like to have a private talk with you.”

WEDNESDAY, MAY 14.—The man who intends to quit traveling because he meets so many disagreeable Englishmen, said to me today: “An Englishman is as crazy to know everything that is going on as a young Jew traveling-man. And what annoys me is that the Americans submit tamely to criticism from the English. Every day you see English criticism of Americans in books and newspapers, but the Americans never strike back. It isn’t true that Americans attract attention abroad because of their rudeness; nine-tenths of the charges made against American travelers are invented by the English. Ask any American who has traveled, and you will find he dislikes the English. The English do not like Americans, and Americans might as well throw off their reserve, and admit that they do not like the English.” ... The captain said this afternoon that the “Princess Irene,” the favorite, is only twelve miles ahead of us, and that we shall probably pass it tomorrow night.... About sunset, there was great cheering on the steerage deck. Some one had reported land in sight, but the report proved untrue.... There is a very fat Italian woman in the first-cabin, and she has a very fat daughter. Her husband is a passenger in the second-cabin.

THURSDAY, MAY 15.—At the Captain’s Dinner this evening, free champagne was served, in addition to the two kinds of wine we have had free twice a day since leaving Naples. The captain, whose name is Bouleuc, made a speech in broken English. Sometime tonight we shall reach New York, and cast anchor until daylight, when the doctor, customs officers and immigration officers will come on board to see if they can find anything suspicious.... People are as proud of ability to speak French as they are proud of art or musical culture. I know an American woman on board who has been reading French books all the way from Naples; yet she confessed to me that she knows very little French. She simply wanted the reputation (which she did not deserve) of being a French scholar. An American man whom I know very well, sharply criticises the French of a woman who sits at the captain’s table, and who talks constantly and volubly in French with the captain. Yet the man confessed to me that he knows only enough French to “get along.”... We thought of remaining up until we could see the lights of New York, but abandoned the idea at 9:30, and went to bed.

FRIDAY, MAY 16.—When I awoke this morning, the “Canada” was lying off Sandy Hook, in company with eight other ships that had arrived during the night, and were waiting for the port officers. Among the ships was the “Princess Irene,” the Favorite. It had a start of twenty-four hours, as it did not stop at Palermo, but we arrived as soon as it did.... We landed at 10 A. M., and greatly admired every man, woman, child and building we saw. The first thing we did was to make a dash for the Pennsylvania Station, where we arranged to leave for Home at 5 P.M.... What a wonderful building the Pennsylvania Station is! Nothing else like it in the world; except a few blocks away, where may be found the New York Central Station, which is still finer.... I showed Adelaide as much of New York as I could from 10 A.M. to 5 P.M. In Johannesburg, we paid fifteen cents street-car fare each to the zoölogical gardens. In New York, we went three or four times the distance for five cents, on the way passing under a great river. This is some of the Robbery to which we Americans are compelled to submit.... When we wanted a lunch, we went into a beautiful place, and paid sixty-five cents for all two healthy Americans cared to eat. This in wicked, extravagant New York.... Some of the buildings we saw were thirty-eight stories high, and the streets through which we passed cannot be duplicated anywhere.... We wanted a guide to show us about quickly. We secured a bright young man from the Postal Telegraph Co. He was polite, intelligent and capable. What do you suppose this Robber Corporation charged us for his services? Thirty cents an hour.... Soon after we left the Pennsylvania Station, our train passed under the Hudson river, and emerged in New Jersey. This state is not a fair sample of the country in which we live, but how we enjoyed seeing it! The green at Home is a healthier and better-looking green than the green in the tropics.

SATURDAY, MAY 17.—We have spent this day passing through Ohio and Indiana. They are better states than New Jersey, and our enthusiasm is increasing. We are passengers on an all-steel train, and in no other country in the world are equally good railroad accommodations to be had.... Early in the afternoon, nearly a thousand miles from the sea, we came to the fourth or fifth city of the world: Chicago. An American we saw last in New Zealand, Dr. Beeson, met us at this place. Our social relations are rapidly improving.

SUNDAY, MAY 18.—This morning, when the conductor came in to take my tickets, he said:

“Why, hello!”

I knew him: we were getting almost in sight of Home. When we went into the dining-car, the negro waiter spoke to us by name.... Shortly afterwards, the conductor sat down beside us, and, looking out of the south window, said:

“I never knew before you could see Potato Hill so plainly from this side of the river.”

Then the Pullman conductor came in, and said:

“The next station is Atchison.”