The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1896-06-14

All. that drive Three of us in a dusty.
! open carriage, behind lame horse, whose
bones ratified as he ran, with a driver who
had great difficulty In remaining upright
and ho shouted witticisms, which we
fortunately could not understand, at every
passer-by at every brother coachman; a
driver who never saw a cart with foot
man mounted at the back or two charm
ingly dressed women but he encouraged
his venerable horse to furious speed and
allowed him to nibble at the calves of the
footman or the founces of the enraged
charming young women. There was no
turning in this fatal drive-wedged in be-
tween rows of carriages we could but walt
our fate in silence. A fate that was finally
precipitated by a policeman, who seized
the head of Rosinante and jerked it
back from its pleasing occupation with
violence which nearly killed the horse on
the spot and which called down upon us
ali the attention of the occupants of all
the surrounding carriages and shouts of
laug liter from the coachmen.
Alas! My courage fails me when it
CO mes to details of each day of our stay
a stay divided between Mile. Fleury
of the second story and Nine. Rival
of the fifth. In my dreams l have
nightmare that am once more assisting
Mrs. Whitehall TO take back some of her
superfuous purchases to the Bon Marche.
| see again my two depressed companions
on divan in the sitting-room, the pretty
freshness quite vanished from the Shirt
waists and faces-too tired to remove their
hats. counting up how much they will
have to economic to make up the def
cheney in their letters of credit. All!
These letters of credit; they were entirely
to blame.
1 seem to be going again through the
salon of the Champ de Mars-for we had
to do that-and down to Versailles-sa-
cred duty-following guide breathlesslv
through the vast deserted palaces, free of
all the glories of France-and with an at
mosphere in the great halls which sug-
gests that the heroes have not been sue
cessfully embalmed in the wainscoting or
under our feet.
| see again our chaste apartments on the
last morning of our stay; twenty-seven
boxes and papers under the beds out of the
way, but others filling the passage, over
which the boots and the eager chamber
maids tumble as they obsequiously offer
US every attention.
l see Mrs. Whitehall sitting on the bed
with a pale face and her watch in her hand.
'In half an hour, girls" she says, in
solemn, deep tones, 1--WE must leave for
the train-we must leave. Here are our
trunks ready to be strapped, and our
dresses have not Gomez l seem to see the
final advent of Mile. Fleury and Nine.
Rival with their attendant maidens, all
in one carriage, chatting in the most
friendly manner, and only giving each
other furtive lightning glances at the mo-
ment when We come to pay the bills. Who
had made more out of the legitimate
prey-the unsuspecting Americans? The
dresses are crushed in with breaking
hearts, the trunks are closed over them,
the porters toss them up and down with
hideous disregard of their contents-con-
tents that have cost US too much to be
mentioned without emotions.
The next morning in London Miss Grey
called upon Mrs. Whitehall. She was Just
about to leave for church. She was ar
rayed like ''the lilies of the field"
She surveyed us with great deliberation.
az believe" she remarked, that the
trip to Paris was worth while! We will
not be able to impress people with what
we have seen; but our clothes are i'm
pressive-and as for the sights-we can
buy Baedeker!'
But we can't see Napoleon's tombp'
said Miss Grey.
And the next day we had the pleasure
of paying extra postage on twenty-seven
advertisements from dressmakers and
milliners which had been dutifully re-
addressed to US from the pension,
VAN DYCK BROWN.