Tuesday, July 16

St. Germaine July 16, 1912.
D.S.B. and I were up earlier than the others, out for a walk in the beautiful park-wood and gardens originally laid out by royalty, stretching away north, with a wall edging the brow of a sharp descent to the Seine. 11,000 acres.
At nine, the two of us looked up the chance of breakfast, to discover that the great porch dining place was in the process of a vigorous cleaning. No breakfast there. The French of the holiday sort, apparently breakfast at lunch, lunch at tea, and have a dinner past 8 p.m. But we found a head waiter who took our order and placed a table out of doors, overlooking the Seine valley and distant Paris, - only Paris was in a haze. (55) The photographer who had been summoned from Paris to take some larger and surer photos of our party en route, began by snapping a view of our group at table, with the head waiter's attractive little boy as mascot.
At 9:15 we were off for the last stage of our great trip. The road was wooded nearly the whole way, with numerous attractive places walled in from common gaze, but open to our high position on the coach. All the while the photographer went spinning ahead in his taxi to snap a view of our progress, then would jump into his cab and go past us for another.

"Our waistcoated groom"

We rolled easily past the track where the Grand Prix is run yearly, and into the Bois de Boulogne, what a magnificent part of our trip this was! Mr. S. chose the straight course through the great forest with its maze of excellent roads, bridle paths, and walks. Numerous (56) riders were out.  Our red waistcoated groom, who had played merrily in every apropos occasion since leaving Dieppe, went more merrily than ever with varying times. He enlivened our days admirably, adding the touch of completeness, - for one's imagination always supplies the long straight horn whenever a real coach is thought of.

Out of the B. de B. we swung, to round  the Arc de Triomphe. Here we witnessed a smart bump between a bicycle + an auto, with nothing amiss but a spilled basket of glass ware, and resulting invective and gesticulation between the rider and the chauffeur. Our way then took us down the beautiful Champs Elysees, round Cleopatra's Needle in the Place de la Concorde, which once belied its present name with the fearful work of La Guillotine, and down the great Rue de Rivoli, the Seine on our right, (57) to our fine hostelry, Hotel Meurice.

So at high noon was accomplished our great drive. Mr. S. had carried four sets of horses through the varying stages of 176 miles, 56 in England, 120 in France. The boys seemed desiring of a bump somewhere, but though gates were often narrow and turnings sharp, no bump came.
And all our coach hands were competent too. They were always quick to care for the horses along the road, keeping the horses refreshed and sponged as Mr. S kept them in careful hand when on the go.
Surely wonderful hours were given us. Our stops were all pleasant, and our going always merry.  With very few exceptions, the passers by, in vehicles or afoot, were kind to give us consideration. The most (58) of interest in many villages was to have the villagers run out of doorways, open window shutters closed against the terrific glare of their bare streets, fetching child and grown-up at the warning note from our coach horn. There was some kindly chaffing,-as that when passing the old chateau at St. Germain, when a party of girls called us Roast beefs - supposing a coaching party necessarily English.
The country and the people of England had impressed us the more favorably. France was too foreign. Even where were the road-side villages of England well kept and often beautiful. In France, wealth made beauty, - but from the infrequent beautiful road side house there was a sharp drop to the flat,-unadorned home of the lower estate. The roads were uniformly excellent in both countries (59) with some bumpy stretches in France. We had more far-distant panoramas before us in France, with stretching valleys dotted by grass and grain fields, with never a fence. But England seemed snugger, warmer, with happiness more deeply rooted.
Nowhere, however, could greater variety meet the traveler than we had, - except the high glory of the mountains was lost to us. That aspect of nature we were perforce obliged to supply from recollection of coaching through the Trossachs.
Landed in Paris , and inclined to be uppish with the notable feat the Mr. S had made us party to, we (i.e.. C.F.B, C.S., DSB + I) ascended the Eiffel tower, to be able to come down a bit.
And while there a dirigible betokened our triumph by rising (60) to a majestic flight.

July 17,18,19

July 17,18,19


Here and there we hurried or sauntered, as occasion required, in Paris. Our party broke up into groups of two, as we pleased. We wandered among parkways, alleyways, boulevards, in fact all kinds of city stretches, to see public buildings, etc.; as the great Madeleine Bousse, a home of Hugo's, Place de la Bastille where that fortress was stormed in 1793, the church of St. Etienne sur Mont - where St. Genevieve , patron saint of the city, was anciently buried, and where some noted moderns also lie,- to the Pantheon. The mural paintings held us here, especially those depicting the legends of St. Genevive, and four scenes from the life ofJoan of Arc. Hugo , and other famous men, are buried in the structure. (61) Then to the Luxembourg, with its old and modern art, painting and sculpture, especially Rodin.

In the afternoon the Louvre again, and in the evening, “Romeo and Juliet” at the great Opera House.

Thursday, Charles Brown and I went to Versailles, the others going their chosen ways, Mr. S. concerned mainly with business.

The glories of this great palace, with its great pictures and magnificent gardens, were not lost upon us. Wearied with our continual tramping through long galleries and stretching forest paths, we took a carriage after lunch, to inspect the Grand Trianon, and the Petite Trainon, with the stables of the first named secondary palace. Napoleon had most unpretentious rooms in the G.T. Marie Antionette. (62) especially delighted in the Petit T., and here her court pretended to farm in a Swiss village she had constructed.

By dint of careful listening, with previous help from the guide book, we could catch the story the guide rid himself of.

Friday, C.F.B. and I again set out together. We surveyed Paris from the Arc de Triomphe, where a really better view is to be had of the city than from the Eiffel tower. Then an hour at the Louvre, with still more time among these famous galleries later in the afternoon. A visit to Sainte Chapelle, back of the Palais de Justice, revealed a marvelous gem of a church. It is merely a small chapel, but its harmonious lines, and gorgeously illuminated traceries and colored windows, make it distinct. (63)

Late in the afternoon I wandered through the fashionable shopping districts.

July 20

July 20
    Saturday, we were off promptly for Cherbourg, D.S. Burgess having left us a little earlier to take train for boat to England, where he was to visit at York, and then to Germany to study at Berlin for the remainder of the summer. Five of us now, we had our own compartment to Cherbourg

    Sharp at 5 P.M. we took the sturdy lighter across the amply fortified harbor to meet the promptly arriving American Line U. S. M. S. "Philadelphia". Rumors of strikes among the stokers had perturbed us, but our prompt embarkation reassured us of reaching N. Y. in reasonable time.
    A smooth sea favored us (64) through Sunday and Monday, but newly recruited stokers weren't up to keeping us going more than 17-knots an hour. So we were losing time. Then cloudy weather, or rather an overcast sky, lowered densely upon us. We rolled and pitched considerably. With our party variously engaged in walking, reading, chatting, or shuffle board and "quoits", Fred and Clayton were apparently masters of the tournament, only to lose the final match on the following Saturday.  I walked for exercise, making over ten miles a day, which dropped with rougher weather, only to sum to fifty m. for the trip.

    Thursday evening we had fog, and blasts from the heavy "whistle". Then Friday morning we awoke to huge seas and an increasing wind. (65) A tumbled sea caught us fairly, and heaved us around at most distressing angles and turns, - distressing for those inclined to sea sickness. Mr. S. and I missed the boys at lunch; they were more discreet than valorous, and ate on deck. Great seas broke over the forward deck, and stinging spray played around us as thick as beating rains. Canvas was of no avail on the windward side, but it kept the back draught from quite drenching us on the lee. The sea was of supreme beauty, with white foam breaking surgingly on every breaking crest while the whole ocean was running with foamy streams whipped along the blue and white surface by the wind and the sun shone brightly over (66) the tossing waters, varying the reflected sky colors with the myriad motion. Still, we were quite ready to resume a less riotous course, when drier decks and absence of quick shuddering tortions down our boat length apprised us that the heavier rollers had stopped pounding. The evening was beautiful, with a clear moon, and a heaving sea reflecting its spreading light, with mysterious shadows shrouding the hollows where the light could not reach. For the sea still remembered its frolic of the morning, and played a bit on its own account, though the wind had grown gentler.

    Saturday we packed and filled out our declaration sheets. We were due in N. Y. (67) at noon, but rough seas had added another handicap to that of the inexperience of stokers, by making them somewhat sick, at least so rumor had it. At any rate, a loss of a few miles each day had put us a whole day behind, so we contented ourselves by hoping to hail native shores on Sunday. The longing for the home country gets deep hold of one in that never ending, seemingly, dividing interval before seeing the home land.
    Sunday at 12 noon we passed Fire Island Light ship.  Soon Land! My, the thrill of that.  Then the shores of Long Island, many pleasure craft. and at last the entrance to the harbor.  We were not detained long for mail or medical inspection , and at a little (68) after two we were being teased into dock by several tugs.  The pier was crowded with happy folk awaiting friends.  "Customs" was easily passed, though C.B. had to pay $3 duty on a $4 piece of lace for his mother!
    On the pier we separated, the Strawbridges for Philadelphia, and Charles Brown to spend the night with me at Choate.
    So ended our great trip!  Nor is it possible ever to express to Mr. S the deep appreciation I shall always feel for the fine days he made possible for us so fully to enjoy.