Chapter 5

J. Oscar Fisher,

Editor Bird CenterArgosy.

BIRD CENTER AT SEA

BIRD CENTER ABROAD

FOURTH INSTALMENT

THE Editor is pleased to present to the readers of the Bird CenterArgosythe following travel-paper from Mr. Gus Figgey, the genial Chicago traveling man who is being accompanied by social leaders of this City in their tour abroad.

J. Oscar Fisher, Editor.

London, July —, 1842

I have dated this back to fit the occasion. Of all the slow burgs, this is the slowest. Had to wait three minutes for an elevator at the hotel and ten minutes longer to reach the sixth floor. I told the Britisher at the desk what the trouble with London was, but he didn’t believe me. Merely raised his eye-brows, but I’ll raise something else if things don’t move along a little faster here before long. Took the bunch out for a ride in a herdic to-day. Saw the Strand, not to be mentioned in the same year with State Street in old Chicag. Elmer Pratt said he reckoned there must be a show in town, judging by the crowd in the streets. Took ’em to see the Alhambra, but Reverend Walpole said it wasn’t a bit like what he thought the Alhambra was like, judging from something he read by Henry Irving. Have had a hard time keeping the folksen masse, as the Frenchies say. Mrs. J. Milton wanted to go to a picture gallery to see the Turners, but I told her I’d take her around to the Tivoli and show her some turns that were turns. Reverend Walpole wanted to go to the Westminster Abbey and Saint Paul’s, but from what I heard a man on the steamer say, they are old buildings, out of date and furnished with tombstones. When I want any reading, you’ll have to pass me something livelier than epitaphs. Elmer Pratt wanted to see London Bridge, he heard it was falling down. If there was a Lake Front here, Elmer would be down there looking at the explosion. I took the party down to see Trafalgar’s monument, and pointed it out to them. Have lost Riley Peters and Myrtle Prute, but I suppose they’ll turn up at supper time. We’ve been here two days, and have done the town thoroughly. Leave to-morrow for gay Paris. Can’t hold Smiley Greene. Orville Peters and Wilbur Fry are anxious to get to Venus, where they can play their mandolins on the raging canal. Ernest Pratt is blasé on the trip, having been over here before. Says Europe is an old story to him. Get my name spelled right, Oscar. Be sure to get in the “e.”

Gus Figgey.

BIRD CENTER AT LONDON

BIRD CENTER ABROAD

FIFTH INSTALMENT

THE Editor is pleased to present to the readers of the Bird CenterArgosythe following travel-paper from Mr. Smiley Greene, our popular undertaker, who is doing Europe with a party of travelers from this city.

J. Oscar Fisher, Editor.

Paris, August.

In Paris, France, at last! France, the gay, the light-hearted; France, the country with a history! Every wall has its tale of war and revolution and death. Placards reading “Defense d’Afficher” mark where notable defenses, back in some dark days of the past, have been made by gallant sons of Gaul. Captain Fry says Gaul is divided into three parts, not counting Gus Figgey. Gus says some one ought to consolidate them into a union. We have been having considerable trouble with the language, as they all speak the foreign tongue here, so that even by shouting at the top of your lungs, you can’t make them understand. Lucile Ramona Brown tried her French on them, but they didn’t even understand that. She seems to get her accents on the wrong words.

Paris never was more beautiful, even although we understand that most of the society people have gone away for the summer. You can’t help pitying these Europeans, for they can’t go abroad for the summer, being already there. Went out to visit the Morgue to-day. Busiest place of its kind I’ve ever seen. Visited Napoleon’s tomb this afternoon, and consider it a most imposing place. Mr. Figgey tells us that the departed is a relative of the new United States Secretary of the Navy, a fact which has aroused great interest in our midst. Yesterday we drove out to witness the Arch of Triumph, which was greatly enjoyed by all save Ernest Pratt, to whom Europe is an old story, he having been here before. To-morrow we go out to view Père la Chaise, the famous cemetery of Paris. It is said that many well-known Frenchmen and French women sleep their last sleep out there, so we have cautioned Gus Figgey to put on the soft pedal for a short spell. Ernest Pratt says Abelard and Hèloise lie there, but whether they are two people or a firm I cannot state. Visited the Louvre yesterday and saw the Venus of Milo, which greatly shocked Elmer Pratt. Gus Figgey says her arms were guillotined during the French Revolution, but be it as it may, she certainly is shy on arms. Orville Peters and Wilbur Fry are eager to get to Venice to while away the hours with dulcet strains from their mandolins, but Ernest Pratt says, “Wait till we see Saint Peter’s.” To-morrow we view the Catacombs and the Cemetery of Montmartre.

Everybody is well and happy. More anon.

Smiley Greene.

BIRD CENTER AT PARIS

BIRD CENTER ABROAD

SIXTH INSTALMENT

THE Editor is pleased to present to the readers of the Bird CenterArgosythe following travel-paper from Mrs. J. Milton Brown, the wife of J. Milton Brown, the well-known artist of the Bird Center Tintype Studios.

J. Oscar Fisher, Editor.

Venice The Enchanting, Aug. —

At last we are in the well-known city of Venice, Italy, about which our fancies have from time immemorial woven the most bewitching dreams. It is hard to realize that we are really here. We instantly exclaim, “Can it really be true that we are in Venice, and not merely dreaming.” Mr. Figgey—he’s so funny—says that we’ll not think we’re dreaming when we get our hotel bill. Mr. Figgey is so material in his attitude of thought, but he has been a perfect dear in arranging things. He doesn’t let us rest a moment, and even now, when we have been here only two days, he seems to know all the gondoliers and everybody in town knows him. He calls all the gondoliers “Louey,” and they begin to grin broadly whenever he comes in sight. We had such a good joke on Elmer Pratt to-day. We came across a little church near the hotel and Elmer went into raptures over it. It’s whole façade was one bewildering nightmare of scroll work and curly cues, like frosting on a wedding cake. Elmer said that he considered it the most beautiful thing he had seen in Europe, and at once looked it up in our Baedeker. The description says that it is the most atrociously ugly building in Europe, and since then Elmer has not admired anything until he has looked in the guide book to see whether it is beautiful.

Last night we engaged some gondolas and did the grand canal. The moon was divine, and the whole city was throbbing with music and sentiment. Mr. Figgey directed the excursion and after a while took charge of the oar or paddle (I don’t know what the real name is) and gave the gondolier some lessons in the work. Smiley Greene sang some rollicking hymns, and then we all clamored for Orville Peters and Wilbur Fry to play on their mandolins. They had carried their instruments all the way from Bird Center and had counted the seconds to the present moment. But scarcely had they begun to play before some men came and said it was not permitted for outsiders to play on the canals. Only those belonging to the Gondoliers’ Union could play. Orville and Wilbur were broken-hearted. We had been out for some time before we discovered that Riley Peters and Myrtle Prute were missing, but, Mr. Figgey soon located them in a gondola by themselves. Riley seems to be in earnest this time, but now could any one help being in earnest, and in love, in Venice. Even all of us become a little bit soft here—even us old married people. Flossye Niebling has been spending all her time writing letters home. The stationery at the hotels is so attractive and she doesn’t want to miss a chance to use it.

From here we go to Rome. We are all well and beautifully tanned.

Lucile Ramona Brown.

BIRD CENTER AT VENICE

BIRD CENTER ABROAD

SEVENTH INSTALMENT

THE Editor is pleased to present to the readers of the Bird CenterArgosythe following travel-paper from Mr. Gus Figgey, the genial Chicago traveling gentleman, who is traveling in Europe with society leaders from Bird Center.

J. Oscar Fisher, Editor.

Rome, Aug. —

This burg isn’t half bad. In some of the new parts of town you’d think you were in Chicago. They have buildings here eight and ten stories high, and the old fogy part of the city is fast disappearing. A good hustling Commissioner of Public Works could soon make Rome look as up-to-date as any of our American cities. Rome is only about a third as big as Chicago, although it was started long before. To-day we did two miles of picture galleries and saw paintings which, if put together, would make one painting a mile square. I priced some of them but didn’t buy. Reverend Walpole has been right in his element here and has visited about ninety-seven churches. Smiley Greene has spent most of his time in the Catacombs and J. Milton Brown and Lucile have reveled in art. The party is all split up. They refused to go out to the Race Track with me, and I have had a hard time entertaining them. Yesterday we all went in a bunch to see St. Peter’s. Say, there’s a building for you. Ernest Pratt says it’s the greatest building in the world, and he’s been in Europe before. I guess he saw it when it was new; for now it is showing signs of age. When I got the crowd in front of the church, I had ’em stand all in a row while I went on in front to give ’em an idea of how big the building really is. You can’t realize its size until you compare it with a man standing at the door. They were much surprised to see how small I looked.

To-morrow we sail from Naples for New York, and before many days you will see us drifting into Bird Center, all sound and well. Riley Peters and Myrtle Prute are engaged. Venice and the moon did it. Riley’s hot stuff, all right.

Mr. Gus Figgey.

BIRD CENTER AT ROME

NEW YORK AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

KENTUCKY AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

INDIANA AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

MICHIGAN AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

ILLINOIS AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

WISCONSIN AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

COLORADO AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

UTAH AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

TEXAS AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

OHIO AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

MISSISSIPPI AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

NEW JERSEY AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

KANSAS AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

SOUTH DAKOTA AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

CALIFORNIA AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

ALASKA AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

MASSACHUSETTS AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

IOWA AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

NEVADA AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

PENNSYLVANIA AT THE ST. LOUIS FAIR

I—CAN GOV. YATES GET BACK IN TIME TO HEAD OFF THE DENEEN BOOM?

Being the Adventures of our Governor, Who, While Traveling in Foreign Lands heard of the Remarkable Growth of Deneen’s Boom for Governor. He Resolved at Once to Fly to the Rescue, and, With His Gallant Staff of Colonels, He Boldly Set Forth on the Long and Perilous Ride

In the midst of pleasant sightseeing in Europe a cablegram arrives.

It contains the alarming news of the growth of the Deneen boom for governor.

Whereupon the governor and his gallant staff of colonels begin a thrilling ride, compared to which the ride of General Sheridan resembled a franc and a half.

At frequent intervals the governor cheered his escort onward by words of hope and encouragement.

II—GOV. YATES’ WILD DASH FROM EUROPE TO HEAD OFF THE DEENEN BOOM

For many days the way was easy, and no mishaps attended them until they arrived at the foothills of a vast mountain range. An unfortunate mishap then occurred. One of the colonels was overcome and had to be borne along on the back of his steed thereby greatly lessening the speed of the gallant little band. Despite this untoward accident, the governor led bravely onward, ever crying out: “Courage, my comrades! Courage! We shall soon be there!”

Thus inspired they began the ascent. A vast solitude surrounded them! No sign of life met their eye, save where some distant mountain goat disported himself on the dizzy peaks, or where some adventurous eagle clung high in the Alpine crags. The hardships of traveling now became extreme, provisions gave out and for many weeks the little cavalcade were obliged to subsist upon eagles and mountain goats, which, owing to the peculiar formation of the country were difficult to catch, and more difficult to shoot, as the colonels were unaccustomed to the use of firearms. When they reached an altitude of 19,000 feet, another colonel was overcome and had to be carried along with his stricken comrade, for the governor resolved not to abandon his devoted follower in the mountain fastness as a prey to the savage goats.

Upon the nineteenth day of the ascent the last colonel gave out, and the governor carefully placed him upon the horse parallel with the two other exhausted colonels. A few days after this fresh misfortune the little band reached the summit, 42,000 feet above the sea level. A magnificent view of the surrounding continent was obtained, and largely repaid for the hardships of the ascent. Behind lay the peaks that they had crossed, many of them rising to a height of 30,000 feet or more. Down at their feet lay the broad, convex bosom of the Atlantic Ocean. A happy thought struck the governor. “I remind myself of Balboa discovering the Pacific,” he said with a smile, but if his followers heard this merry quip they gave no heed. Then the governor’s face became grave as another thought struck him. “There is no disguising the fact that I have a long swim ahead of me,” he said resolutely.

III—GOV. YATES’ WILD DASH FROM EUROPE TO HEAD OFF THE DENEEN BOOM

The governor rested a moment after reaching the summit of the vast mountain peak, and then, drawing a deep breath he put spurs to his horse and shot down the steep declivity, pursued by the savage mountain goats. The three colonels were still in an exhausted state, and their weight greatly retarded the speed of the gallant steed, yet, strange as it may seem, the descent was made in an incredibly short time. In ten minutes the little cavalcade rode safely out on the shelving beach, and the governor urged his horse boldly into the Atlantic Ocean. “Now, for a long swim,” said he.

Fortunately, the weather was fine. The sun shone warmly and the sea was calm. Under these favoring conditions it was only a few days until the headlands of the Azores were sighted off the port beam. Hunger and fatigue racked the governor, but he did not stop. He shouted “Courage, my noble steed. The way is long, but we shall soon be there.” One of the colonels was revived by the cool water, and from his position amidships passed the days pleasantly in watching the wonderful dwellers of the deep as they darted hither and thither alongside. On the thirty-fourth day the governor sighted a low group of islands off to the s’uth’ard. He sniffed a moment. “The Bermudas,” he said. And he was right. They were the Bermudas where the onions come from. From this point he shaped his course nor by nor west, intending to land on American shores about four miles west of Oyster Bay. But he was thrown out of his course by adverse currents and strong head winds, and had to make his landing six miles east of Oyster Bay. Still he was not discouraged.

“Home again!” shouted the governor in joyous exultation, and again putting spurs to his gallant steed he galloped across the Alleghanies, cleared the Ohio at a bound and soon saw the towering dome of his beloved state-house in the distance. Large throngs of office-holders heralded his coming with glad shouts. Ten minutes later he was deep in a consultation regarding his chances of heading off the Deneen boom.

THE DEATH OF POPE LEO

Leo XIIIBorn 1810 Died 1903

Transcriber’s Notes:It was not possible to exactly relicate the layout of some pages. They are a close approximation to the originals.Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.Typographical errors were silently corrected.Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant form was found in this book.

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