Putnam patriot., 1926-04-02

the constant delights of going away from home. They picture palm trees.
 and blue seas and ruins and monu- ments and gorgeous hotels In our
 heart of hearts We know that the palm trees are a bit dutsy and not half so symmetrical as the tourist artist would have them. Nor are the seas so blue. nor the ruins so ruined or the hotels so completely luxurious as these tempting folders would have us be- lleve. But the tourist, if he is of the really enthusiastic sort, belongs to the class once % aptly described by Bar mum, and. what Is more. he is quite willing to be SO classified
 When t comes te taking your feet of from the family fender and get l ting down to the actual business of travelling, one faces another matter l There is a date and a place. The date i is for departure. The place is q des- i tination. In the particular case which we are about to describe at some 1 length. the date was certain day in November and the destination was | Italy and points above and below 1 All at once the travel folder became a matter of fact and no longer the i'm 1 plement of dreams To get away or not to get away was the question Sud denly the palm leaves lost their green. the ships lost their shiny brightness, the hotels became mere transient homes. November is not good month for crossing the Atlantic. The weath- CT is bad and it is distinctly between seasons. The schedules of sailings are sparse. The best ships were waiting for that great horde of after-holiday travellers that pours into Europe like flour through sieve.
 Who Sails From Boston?
 Then suddenly there was ray of hope. On a certain date there was steamer sailing from New York, bear ing the name of an exceedingly illus trious American president, and touch ing, after many other ports. at Ma ples. Then, like a wet sponge, the prospective travellers discovered that the first port of call after New York was. of all places. Boston,
 Now to almost everyone. a sailing. unless you are one of those satiated people, to whom the Atlantic Is a mere ferry is an event,--a matter of steam CT letters. books, excited friends. way ing handkerehiefs. sometimes tears. and finally the Ambrose Channel and Sandy Hook Imagine the ignominy of all this at New York and then Co wake and find yourself at the Com monwealth Dock in Boston, in full view of the Hub of the Universe" and Beacon Hill But there was nothing to be done about it. Ii was the good ship "Presidente Wilson" or none oth- CT for a fortnight
 Somehow or other there was some thing amusing about sailing from Bos- ton. One doesn't sail from Boston. that's all. except to go to New York or Portland or Nantasket Beach or some such. Ridiculous! Boston is Boston. Ii contains nothing that is either cos moDolitan or transatlantic.
 But Boston it was and the "Presi dente Wilson" of the Cosulich Line out of Trieste. and it wasn't for a week that we learned that in those tri assic days prior 10 the Great War the good ship "Presidente Wilson" reioic- ed in the imperial name of the "Kais- CT Franz Joseph" of the Austro-Am-l erican Line. But that was mere de- tail and not to be discussed, since it involved one of the strange peculiar ities of the Treaty Of Versailles.
 Now on most of the steamers that We have sailed upon, there is certain l code which says that "The ship must sail on time" High and low. rich ani poor. may be five or -ter minutes late and the shin will have sailed without ' them. for "the ship must sail on timel' But not so the "Presidente Wilson. To Boston came two lone travellers by | the midnight train from New York | bent on catching the "Presidente Wil-I son" ere she departed at the stated | hour of noon At noon she was rot in | sight and at three o'clock. the travel | ing pair-the only ones with the cour- l age tn pass up a New York sailing and | give Boston a unique experience boarded the little liner with every as- surance that she would sail at five. l As a result of the midnight train from New York they promptly went to bed and awoke. at seven o'clock, not far out at sea. but fast to the Boston shore within full sight of the Custom House l tower. They dined. smoked walked the deck and at 9.30 by the Boston clock, the "Presidente," without gong or siren, Slppeo gentiy uoNh tHie hai bor and out to sea.
 Self-Cla.ihed Passengers
 You may be one of those people who rejoice in a crossing You may like to | sit in your deck chair and watch your fellow passengers go by. Perhaps you may like to speak a damnably cheerful Good Morning." to them. or you may like jolly little deck games or simply 1 sit and compare notes about the rough l ness or the calm of the weather. But there are those who don't like deck chairs. who prefer quiet corner of the smoking room with a book and no nonsense. For these a crossing is a crossing. a matter of three meals a day. a turn or two about the deck. a game af bridge when a sane game is to he found and bed at an early hour and a prayerful hope that the lady from Paterson whose chair is just out side the cabin window will oversleep and forget 10 be al her post at s.30 tomorrow. But of course. she always is. -confound her pretty picture '-I and gone is the morning nap. luxury 10 he enjoyed with conscience at seq and seldom similarly permitted onI land