ou, dear, and in
having you say nice things about me. God bless you, dearest, and may I
never do anything to make you feel less proud of your wicked son.

DICK.

Off Gibraltar,
February 12, 1893.

DEAR MOTHER:

Today is Sunday. We arrive at Gibraltar at five tomorrow morning and
the boat lies there until nine o'clock. Unless war and pestilence have
broken out in other places, I shall go over to Tangiers in a day or
two, and from there continue on my journey as mapped out when I left.
I have had a most delightful trip and the most enjoyable I have ever
taken by sea. These small boats are as different from the big
twin-screw steamers as a flat from a Broadway hotel.

Everyone gets to know everything about everyone else, and it has been
more like a yacht than a passenger steamer. When I first came on board
I thought I would not find in any new old country I was about to visit
anything more foreign than the people, and I was right, but they are
most amusing and I have learned a great deal. They are different from
any people I know, and are the Americans we were talking about. The
ones of whom I used to read in The Atlantic and Blackwood's, as
traveling always and sinking out of sight whenever they reached home.
They, with the exception of a Boston couple, know none of my friends or
my haunts, and I have learned a great deal in meeting them. It has
been most BROADENING and the change has been SUCH a rest. I had no
idea of how tired I was of talking about the theater of Arts and
Letters and Miss Whitney's debut and my Soul. These people are simple
and unimaginative and bourgeois to a degree and as kind-hearted and
apparent as animal alphabets. I do not think I have had such a
complete change or rest in years, and I am sure I have not laughed so
much for as long. Of course, the idea of a six months' holiday is
enough to make anyone laugh at anything, but I find that besides that I
was a good deal harassed and run down, and I am glad to cut off from
everything and start fresh. I feel miserably selfish about it all the
time.

These Germans run everything as though you were the owner of the line.
The discipline is like that of the German Army or of a man-of-war,
everything moves by the stroke of a bell, and they have had dances and
speeches and concerts and religious services and lectures every other
minute. Into all of these I have gone with much enthusiasm. We have
at the captain's table Dr. Field, t