CHAPTER VI
New York CityAugust 25
DEAR MOTHER AND FATHER:
I'm going to lay in a stock of picture post-cards to send you, for ifthings move at the same rate in Europe that they do in New York, Icertainly shan't have time to write many letters. But I'll send a goodlong one to-night, anyhow. I always thought I'd like to live in the city,as you know, but a few days of this has already given me a sort ofbreathless feeling that I ought always to be on the move, whether there'sanything special to do or not. The noise never stops for one minute,night or day, and the streets are perfect miracles of light and dirt and_hurry_. This whole flat could be put right into our dining-room, andwe'd hardly notice it at that, and _hot!_ Mr. Stevens says in the winterhe nearly freezes to death, but I can't believe it.
All day Friday he kept me tearing from shop to shop, buying more clothesthan I can wear out in a lifetime, I believe, lots of them things I'dnever even seen or heard of before. Some of the suits had to be altered alittle, so in the afternoon we went back to the same places we'd been toin the morning, and tried the blamed things on again. How women can likethat sort of thing is beyond me--I'd rather dig potatoes all day. By fiveo'clock I was so tired that I was ready to lie right down on FifthAvenue, and let the passing crowds walk over me, if they liked. But Mr.Stevens hustled me into a huge hotel called the Waldorf for a hair-cutand "tea" (which isn't a good square meal, but a little something todrink along with a piece of bread-and-butter as thick through astissue-paper) and then out again to see a few sights before we went hometo dress for "an early dinner" (_seven o'clock!_) and go to the theatrein the evening. "Dressing" meant struggling into my new dress-suit. Ihoped it wouldn't arrive in time, but Mr. Stevens had had it marked"rush," and it did. I felt like a fool when I got it on, and a prettyhot, uncomfortable fool to boot. Mr. Stevens apologized for the show,saying there was really nothing in town at this time of year, but you canimagine what it seemed like to me! I'd be almost willing to wear pinktights--same as a good many of the actresses did!--if it meant havingsuch a glorious time.
It was almost ten o'clock Saturday morning when I waked up, and of courseI felt like a fool again. But that is getting to be such a habitual statewith me, that I don't need to keep wasting paper by mentioning it. By thetime I was washed and shaved and dressed, Mr. Stevens had been to hisoffice, transacted all the business necessary for the day, and was readyto see sights again. "It doesn't take long to do things when you get thehang of hustling," he said, referring to his own transactions; "comealong. We've got a couple of hours before lunch, and then we'll take the2.14 train down to my farm." So we shot downstairs about forty flights tothe second in the elevator, hailed a passing taxicab, jumped in, and weretearing out Riverside Drive--much too fast to see anything--in no time.We had "lunch" at a big restaurant called Delmonico's, a great deal toeat and not half enough time to eat it in, then took another taxi andmade our train by catching on to the last car.
I don't need to tell you about the farm, because you know all about thatalready. I never left Jenkins's heels one second, and he said I was muchmore of a nuisance than Thomas, because Thomas caught on to thingsnaturally, and I asked questions all the time. I don't believe I'll seeanything in Europe to beat that place. When we get to milking our cows,and separating our cream, and doing our cleaning by electricity, it'll besomething like, won't it?
We took a seven o'clock train back to New York this morning, so that Mr.Stevens could get to his office by nine, and he had me go with him andwait around until he was at leisure again. I certainly thought thestenographers' fingers would fly off, and all the office boys moved witha hop, skip, and jump; really, the slowest things in the rooms were theelectric fans whizzing around. By half-past eleven Mr. Stevens haddictated about two hundred and fifty letters, sold several milliondollars' worth of property (he's a real-estate broker), and was all readyto go out with me to buy more socks, neckties, handkerchiefs, etc.,having decided that I didn't have enough. We had "lunch" atSherry's--another swell restaurant--and took a trip up the Hudson in theafternoon, getting back at half-past ten--"Just in time," said Mr.Stevens, "to look in at a roof-garden before we go to bed." So we"looked," and it sure was worth a passing glance, and then some. It's oneo'clock in the morning now, and I sail at nine, so I'm writing at thishour in desperation, or you won't get any letter at all.
Much love to everybody. I picture you all peacefully sleeping--exceptThomas, of course--with no such word as "hurry" in your minds.
AUSTIN
* * * * *
S.S. AmsterdamSeptember 4
DEAR SALLY:
It doesn't seem possible that I'm going to land to-morrow! The first twodays out were pretty dreadful, and I'll leave them to yourimagination--there certainly wasn't much left of _me_ exceptimagination! But by the third day I was beginning to sit up and takenotice again, and by the fourth I was enjoying myself more than I everdid in all my life before.
There's a fellow on board named Arthur Brown, who has his sister Emilywith him; they're both unmarried, and well over thirty, teachers in asmall Western college, and are starting out on their "Sabbatical year."Seeing them together has made me think a lot about you, and wish you werealong; they've very little money, and have never been to Europe before,and almost every night they sit down and figure out how they're going toget the most out of their trip, trying new plans and itineraries all thetime. They get into such gales of laughter over it that you'd think beingpoor was the greatest fun in the world, and the tales they've told aboutworking their way through high school and college, and saving up to cometo Europe, would be pathetic if they weren't so screamingly funny. Ihaven't been gone very long yet, I know, but it's been long enough for meto decide that Sylvia sent me off, not primarily to buy cows and studyagriculture, but to learn a few things that will be a darned sight betterworth knowing than that even, and--_to have a good time_! In the hope, ofcourse, that I'll come home, not only less green, but less cussedlydisagreeable.
Mr. Stevens has crossed on this boat twice, and introduced me to boththe captain and the chief engineer before I started; they've both beenawfully kind to me, and I've seen the "inwards and outwards" of the shipfrom garret to cellar, so to speak, and learned enough about navigationand machinery to make me want to learn a lot more. But even without allthis, there would have been plenty to do. This isn't a "fashionableline," so they say, but it's a good deal more fashionable than anythingwe ever saw in Hamstead, Vermont! There's dancing every evening--not abit like what we have at home, and it really made me gasp a little atfirst--you thought I was hard to shock, too, didn't you? Well, believeme, I blushed the first time I discovered that I was expected to hold mypartner so tight that you couldn't get a sheet of paper between us.However, I soon stopped blushing, and bent all my energies to theagreeable task of learning instead, and the girls are all so friendlyand jolly, that I believe I'm getting the hang of the new ways prettywell. There are no square dances at all and very few waltzes ortwo-steps, but two newer ones, the one-step and fox-trot, hold thefloor, literally and figuratively! I wish I could describe the girls'dresses to you, they're so, pretty, but I can't a bit, except to saythat they rather startled me at first, too; they appear to be made outof about one yard of material, and none of that yard goes to sleeves,and not much to waist. A very lively young lady sits next to me at thetable, and I worried incessantly at first as to what would happen if hershoulder-straps should break: but apparently they are stronger than theylook. When they--the girls, I mean--feel a little chilly on deck, theyput on scarves of tulle--a gauzy stuff about half as thick as mosquitonetting. I don't quite see why they're not all dead of pneumonia, butthey seem to thrive.
I've also learned--or am trying to learn--to play a game of cards called"bridge"; it's along the same lines as good old bid-whist, butconsiderably dressed up. I like that, too, but feel pretty stupid at it,as most of the players can remember every two-spot for six hands back,and hold dreadful post-mortems of their oppo
nents' mistakes at the end ofthe game. I've brought along the old French grammar I had in high school,as well as some new phrase-books that Mr. Stevens gave me, and take themto bed with me to study every night, for he told me that you could getalong 'most anywhere if you knew French. There's a library aboard, too,so I've read several novels, and I'm getting used to my clothes--I don'tbelieve I've got too many after all--and to taking a cold bath everymorning and shaving at least once a day.
Make Fred toe the mark while I'm not there to look after you, butremember he's a good sort just the same; I was an awful fool ever toadvise you not to stick to him, he's worth a dozen of his cousin. TellMolly she'll have to do some practising to come up to the way some of thegirls on this ship play, but I believe she's got more talent than all ofthem put together, if she'll only work hard enough to develop it. There'sgoing to be an _extra_ good time to-night, as it's the last one, and I'mlooking forward to dancing my heels off. Love to you all, especiallymother, and tell her I haven't seen a doughnut since I left home.
Affectionately your brother
AUSTIN
* * * * *
Paris,October 1
DEAR THOMAS:
I got here last night, and found the cable from father saying thatthe cattle and Dutch Peter had reached New York all right, and thathe had met them there. I know you'll like Peter, and I hope we cankeep him indefinitely, though I only hired him to take the cowsover, and stay until those Holstein aristocrats were properlyacclimated to the Homestead. I'm glad they've got there. And, gosh!I'm glad I've got _here!_ I realize I've been a pretty poorcorrespondent, sending just picture post-cards, and now and then anote to mother, but, you see, I've crowded every minute so darnedfull, and then I've never had much practice. So before I start out to"do" Paris, I'll practice a little on you.
I landed at Rotterdam, had twenty-four hours there with Emily and ArthurBrown--that brother and sister I met on shipboard--then we separated,they going to Antwerp, and I heading straight for The Hague to presentSylvia's letter of introduction to Mr. Little, the American Minister,shaking in my shoes, and cold perspiration running down my back, ofcourse. But I needn't "have shook and sweat," as our friend Mrs. Elliottsays, for he was expecting me and was kindness itself. He found aninterpreter to go through the farming district with me, and then heinvited me to come and stay at his house for a few days before I startedfor the interior. He has a son about my age, who I imagine has sufferedfrom the same form of heart disease with which you are afflicted atpresent, as he seemed to be somewhat affected every time Sylvia's namewas mentioned; and a daughter Flora, an awfully friendly, jolly,pink-and-white creature. Fortunately she informed me promptly that shewas engaged to a fellow in Paris, or I might have got heart disease, too.They kept me on the jump every minute--sight-seeing and parties, andexcursions of all sorts, and one night we went to see a play ofShakespeare's, "The Two Gentlemen of Verona," given in Dutch. (I findthat all Continentals admire him immensely, and give frequentperformances of his works.) Get out our old copy and re-read it somerainy day; you're probably rusty on it, same as I was, but it's aninteresting tale, and there's a song in it that can't help appealing toyou. Here's the first verse:
"Who is Sylvia? What is she That all the swains commend her?Holy, fair, and wise is she, The heavens such grace did lend herThat she might admired be."
I advise you to invest in doublet, hose, plumed hat, and guitar, and trythe effect of a serenade under our Sylvia's--beg pardon, _your_ Sylvia'swindow. The fellow in the play made a great hit, so there's no tellingwhat you might accomplish.
I hated leaving the Littles', for the good time I had there sure beat thegood time I had on shipboard "to a frazzle"; but I soon found out thatthe business part of the trip was going to be a good deal moreinteresting and absorbing than I had imagined it would be. Myinterpreter, Hans Roorda, a fellow several years younger than I am, canspeak five languages, all equally well, and I kept him busy talkingFrench to me. We were in the country almost three weeks. The farmershaven't half the mechanical conveniences that we considered absolutelynecessary even in our least prosperous days, but are marvels of order andefficiency, for all that. I believe one of the greatest mistakes that weNew England farmers have been making is to assume that farming is amixture of three fourths muscle and one fourth brains--I'm beginning tothink it's the other way around. As you have already learned, I followedJenkins's advice, bought a dozen head of fine cattle, and hired PeterKuyp, the son of one of the farmers I visited, to take care of them. Ofcourse, this meant going back to Rotterdam to see them safely off, and Imanaged to get a glimpse of some of the other Dutch cities as well. WhenI got to Amsterdam I parted from Roorda with real regret, for I feel he'sone of the many good friends I've already made. I found my first Americanmail in Amsterdam, among other letters one from you. The news from homein it was all fine. I'm glad father has sold that old Blue Hill pasture.It was too far off from the rest of our land to be of much real use tous, and I also think he was dead right to use the money he got from it topay off old debts. Mr. Stevens writes me that he has sold Sylvia's LongIsland house for her, and that her horses, carriages, sleighs, and motorare all going up to the Homestead. Now that the Holsteins are there, too,why don't you sell the few old cows and the two horses that we rescuedfrom the fire, and use that money in paying off more debts? If themortgage were only out of the way, with all the other improvements youspeak of well started, I should think we were headed straight formillionaires' row.
I also found a letter from Mr. Little in Amsterdam, saying that Mrs.Little and Flora were about to start for Paris, and asking if I wouldcare to act as their escort, since neither he nor his son could leave TheHague just then--simply a kind way of saying, "Here's another chance foryou," of course! You can imagine the answer I telegraphed him! We "broke"the journey in Brussels and Antwerp, and I saw no end of new wonders, ofcourse, and in Brussels we went to the opera. I did wish Molly was there,for she certainly would have thought she had struck Heaven, and I did,pretty nearly! I'm getting used to my dress-suit, and it isn't quite suchan exquisite piece of torture to "do" my tie as it was at first, sinceFlora did it for me one night, and gave me some little hints for thefuture. She is really an awfully jolly girl.
We got to Paris late at night, and I never shall forget the long drivefrom the station, through the bright streets to the Fessendens' house,where the Littles were going to visit. Sylvia had given me a letter ofintroduction to them, too, but I didn't need to use it, for, of course, Igot introduced to them then and there. There are three fellows--nogirls--in the family, besides Mr. and Mrs. I knew beforehand that Florawas engaged to one of them, but I couldn't tell which, for they all fellupon her and embraced her with about equal enthusiasm. Then they allkissed Mrs. Little, and Mrs. Little and Mrs. Fessenden hugged each other,and Mr. Fessenden hugged Flora. I began to think that perhaps I might beincluded--by mistake--but all my hopes were in vain. I was invited tocome to dinner the next night, however, and then I took my leave, anddrove round for an hour--it seemed like an hour in Fairyland--before Iwent back to my hotel.
You must be getting settled in college now--it must have been an awfulwrench to tear yourself away from the Homestead, I know, but you'll havea great time after you get over the first pangs of separation, I'm sure,and don't forget that "absence makes the heart grow fonder." I refer, ofcourse, to Sylvia's heart because you've made it sufficiently plain toall of us that yours _can't._ Well, the best of luck go with you.
AUSTIN
* * * * *
Southampton,October 27
DEAR SYLVIA:
I had a feeling in my bones when I woke up this morning that somethingextra pleasant was going to happen; and when I got down to breakfast, andsaw, on the top of my pile of mail, a letter postmarked Hamstead, but ina strange handwriting, I knew that it _had_ happened.
You begin by scolding me because I haven't written mother oftener. I knowI deserve it, and I'll write her from now
on, every Sunday, at least; butthen you go on by asking why I've never written you, except the littlenote I sent back by the pilot, which you say is not a note at all, "but aseries of repetitions of unmerited thanks." I haven't written because Ididn't feel that I you wanted to be bothered with me. And how can Iwrite, and not say, "Thank you, thank you, thank you," with every line?Why, I've learned more, enjoyed more, _lived_ more, in these two monthssince I came to Europe, than I had in all the rest of my life before!Sylvia--but I won't, if you don't like it!
Now, to answer your question, "What have I been doing all this time?" Ifeel sure you've seen what I have written, so you know what a wonderfultrip I had from, The Hague to Paris. I'm glad I haven't got to try todescribe Paris to you, for of course you know it much better than I do;but I hope some day, when my mind's a little calmer, I can describe it tothe rest of the family. Just now I'm not in any state yet to separate thedetails from the wild, magnificent jumble of picture galleries andchurches, tombs and palaces, parks and gardens, wonderful broad, brightstreets, theatres, cafes, and dinner-parties. Of course, all your letterswere the main reason that every one was so nice to me. My first day ofsight-seeing ended with a perfectly uproarious dinner at the Fessendens';I never in my life ran into such a jolly crowd. I finally discoveredwhich brother Flora belonged to--which had been puzzling me a good dealbefore--because about ten o'clock the other two suggested that we shouldgo out and see if "we could have a little fun." I thought we were havinga good deal right there, but of course I agreed, so we went; and we did.
Then--during the next ten days--I went to mass at the Madeleine, and toa ball at the American Embassy; I rode on the top of 'buses, and spunaround in motors. We took some all-day trips out into the country, andsaw not only the famous places, like Versailles and Fontainebleau, butlots of big, beautiful private estates with farms attached. There's noneof the spotless shininess of Holland or the beautiful cattle there; butagriculture is developed to the _n_th degree for all that. Those Frenchfarmers wring more out of one acre than we do out of ten; but we'regoing to do some wringing in Hamstead, Vermont, in the future, I can tellyou! The last night in Paris, I never went to bed at all. Twenty of ushad dinner at the Cafe de la Paix--went to the theatre--saw the girls andfathers and mothers home--then went off with the other fellows to anothershow which lasted until three A.M. I had barely time to rush back to thehotel, collect my belongings, and catch my early train--for I'd made upmy mind to do that so that I could stop off for two hours at Rouen on myway to Calais, and I was glad I did, though I must confess I yawned agood deal, even while I was looking at the Cathedral and the relics ofJoan of Arc.
I had just a week in the Channel Islands, and though I didn't thinkbeforehand that I could possibly get as much out of them as I did out ofthe country in Holland, of course, I found that I was mistaken. I boughtsix head of cattle, brought them to Southampton with me, and saw themsafely embarked for America, as I cabled father. I suppose they've gotthere by now. They're beauties, but I believe I'm going to like theHolsteins better, just the same. They're larger and sturdier--lessnervous--and give more milk, though it's not nearly so rich.
The Browns met me there, and I was awfully glad to see them again. Ibought a knapsack, and, leaving all my good clothes behind me, startedout with them on a week's walking trip through the Isle of Wight, gettingback here only last night. We stopped overnight at any place we happenedto be near, usually a farmhouse, and the next morning pursued our wayagain, with a lunch put up by our latest hostess in our pockets. Ofcourse, the Browns didn't take the same interest in farming that I did,but they had a fine time, too. It's been a great thing for me to knowthem, especially Emily. She's not a bit pretty, or the sort that a fellowcould get crazy over, or--well, I can't describe it, but you know what Imean. Every man who meets her must realize what a fine wife she'd makefor somebody, and yet he wouldn't want her himself. But she's a wonderfulfriend. Do you know, I never had a woman friend before, or realized thatthere could be such a thing--for a man, I mean--unless there was somesentiment mixed up with it. This isn't the least of the valuable lessonsI've learned.
After lunch to-day, we're going off again--not on foot this time, as itwould take too long to see what we want to that way, but on hiredbicycles. I'm sending my baggage ahead to London to "await arrival," butif the mild, though rather rainy, weather we've had so far holds, I hopeto have two weeks more of _country_ England before I go there; we have nodefinite plans, but expect to go to some of the cathedral towns, and toOxford and Warwick at least.
And now I've overstayed the time you first thought I should be gone,already, and yet I'm going to close my letter by quoting the last linesin yours, "If you need more money, cable for it. (I don't; I haven'tbegun to spend all I had.) Don't hurry; see all you can comfortably andthoroughly; and if you decide you want to go somewhere that we didn'tplan at first, or stay longer than you originally intended, please do.The family is well, the building going along finely, and Peter, yourDutch boy, most efficient--by the way, we all like him immensely. This isyour chance. Take it."
Well, I'm going to. After the Browns leave London, they're going to Italyfor the winter, and they want me to go with them, for a few weeks beforeI start home. I'll sail from Naples, getting home for Christmas, and whata Christmas it'll be! I know you'll tell me honestly if you think I oughtnot to do this, and I'll start for Liverpool at once, and without aregret; but if you cable "stay," I'll go towards Rome with an easy heartand a thankful soul.
I must stop, because I don't dare write any more. The "thank-you's" wouldsurely begin to crop out.
Ever yours faithfully
AUSTIN GRAY
The Old Gray Homestead Page 6