Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-01-04
WALKING IS BETTER
Than Trying to Get Over Europe as
a Third-Class Passenger.
LILLIAN sPENCER's TALE OF WOE.
Left Sitting on Hard Benches at Midnight
in Cherries Land.
OVER THE DEEP BLUE SEA TO ITALY
rcoRnlsroNpENcr OF THE p1srATcH.I


are pauper or fool you do it third. was
not pauper, but was glorious fool. That
is the only excuse which can be urged for
me. I wanted to see how it went did
see! My curiosity on that score has been
fully gratifed. If it had not been that, like
the conventional cat I have nine good solid
long-lived lives. I am sure I should never
have come out at the end Of my journey
alive.
We started from Charleville, in France,
and went from thence by rail to Marseilles,
resolving to continue our walking tour in
Italy owing to the cold weather. Before
leaving Charleville we endeavored to find
out the length and cost of the trip, but this
was impossible. The ticket agent knew
nothing about it His knowledge extended
as far as his line, distance of few hun
dred miles, and no further. So we were
obliged to set off quite in the dark. We
boarded third-class carriage at A. NJ. This
carriage was just the same cheerless, shabby
concern as one sees everywhere on all
European lines, only it was even more cheer
less and more shabby, if such thing can be
possible. 1t had no carpet, no cushions, no
curtains, no anything except long wooden
bench and two small, forbidding windows.
must be opened to be seen through. 1t is in
this car that the middle and poorer classes
travel.
THE RATE is TOO HfGH.
The rate of fare is one-third less than the
regular price. There oughtn't to be any
fare for such accommodations at all. AT
home we might put our pigs in some such
boxes, but doubt it The guards or con-
ductors are grimy, addressed individuals
with humors to suit all classes and con-
ditions:
A frst-class humor will cost francs, 81;
a second-class humor will cost 2 francs, 40
cents; third-class humor will cost 90 CEN
times, 10 cents
The unpaid humor "a mixture of savage
ness and impertinence) will cost you moth
ing except your temper. You will lose that
effectually and repeatedly. The next thing
that will happen to wiring your soul will be
this: You will be going along smoothly
| enough at the rate OF ten miles an hour,
when you will suddenly find that they have
uncoupled your car and gone on without
you. To your frantic demands for an ex-
PLANTATION they will either misunderstood
your choicest boarding-school French en-
tirely, or inform you curtly that the third
class carriages don't go clear through, that
they wait over II hours or so for the next
hotels are miles of, and closed at that
There is nothing to do but sit on the
wooden benches (Which nothing. not even
time seems to softenJ and waitl Ye gods
what a wait! Jobs patience would have
succumbed. 1t blows up cold. You are
hungry. You can't get drink (there is no
fit water in the country. No one listens to
your tale of woe or understands it If he does,
and there you are.
WALKING MORE COMFORTABLE.
"Let's get out and walk" says Mimi.
The suggestion is an inspiration. We act
upon il. We do get out. Thank heaven we
have learned to walk; and set off with def
ance in our eyes and despair in our hearts.
"Who's the king ofthis forsaken country7"
asks Mimi, whose misery has made her
idiotic
There is none, simpleton, it is republic.
You can't find any fault with that.
America is republic"
sit ought to be ashamed of ITSELF" Mimi
groans. "My corn is worse than ever"
"We will never travel third class again,
that is one sure thing" interpose
"How will we travel?" Mimi asks.
'We will walk. This is a walking tour,
anyhow"
Tramps being essentially an American
product and unknown to these parts, a walk
at night is not attended with any especial
danger. The good folk are all abed with
the conventional chickens. Even the owls
snooze between times. 1t is dark and calm
and unexpressibly still. There is no moon.
but few stars illumine the sky, aud throw
a faint light upon the smooth, white road
On we 60, shivering little as an occasional
gust Of wind screams among the somber
trees, and longing for that break in the
clouds which heralds the coming of the
morn. We have not long to wait, Old
Sol shakes himself bit gets up, frowns,
stretches and wishes US good day with his
most beaming smile. 1t is an enchanting
hour; for France is sunny and kind, and
one drinks in great beaker full of the
warm South with every fragrant breath.
MONASTERY OF THE TEMPLARs.
1t is MONDAY when we reach the old town
of st. Philibert. There is monastery there
worth looking at 1t is one of those hoary
old affairs dating from the middle ages.
There Is a sort OF Crusade air about it; or
rather it looks like a venerable English
woman 1 once met who assured me her
ancestors came over with the Conqueror
This was, and is, the Monastery of the Temp
lars. When it was built in 1929 the
Templars were really a power, although
they did not wear colored sashes and pa
rade the street. By the way, that same
power was the rock on which they split;
for the King grew jealous of them and took
away most of their old privileges. The
learned gentleman who told me all about
this at the table d'hote last night, assured
me there was another reason.
''Their habits" said he, were bad, and
the only way to cure man of bad habit is
to abolish him."
So if one is to cure men of bad habits, 1t
looks as though nothing but women were to
be left
7 remember the old Templar building in
Paris. Or rather / don't; remember the
place where 1t stood, until the Revolution
blew it up, or pulled it down, or pushed it
over. In the reign of Philip the Bel there
were great stories ahoat about these gentle
men, who at the present day are So
harmless. They worshiped the "trinity of
gods" This in itself is not blame-worthy.
But the first of these gods" consisted of
what my Irish ancestors would call de-
capitated head; the second was Janus
faced creature and the third was the skull
of cat.
Their worship was very secret but
Knight of Gascony-your Gascon has always
babbling tongue-talked indiscreetly.
And the King seized on a number of the lead
Two of them he burned alive. Of these,
one was Jacques Molay--Brownin in one
of his poems calls him "John OF the crooked
thumb" and has his soul, .'faring out in
the dark" in fine melodramatic fashion.
One thing in connection with this affair /,
Browning overlooked. Grand Master
Jacqnes Molay summoned King and Pope
to meet him-one ip four months, and the
other in six-in Heaven And they did