Evening star., 1936-11-30

star Correspondent of The Star.
n YEw YORK.-We will call him
~ We first saw him in our
a compartment on the boat
train from Paris to le Havre, a man
Of medium height, with hair little
gray, and a small mustache. With a
wink and furtive smile he calmed
the worries of little Englishman
whose reserved seat was about to be
lost to the abundant baggage of a
too-assertive tourist. We liked the
doctor.
At first he said little, except in an
swer to our questions, but we found
that he had been abroad many times
this time to England, Russia, Italy
and France.
II like to see what makes the
wheels go round" he said.
Departure Of a Liner.
Aboard the Normandie. We stood at
the rail and watched as the shore
line pulled away, as crowds lined the
dock and waved, as fishermen IN
tiny boats shouted bon voyage"
as an airplane zoomed low above the
tunnels, then away, only to wheel and
Eoom by again.
At our elbow some one spoke. It
was the doctor. Without seeming to
address any one. he pronounced a
benediction to Europe, an end to the
intriguing uncertainties of travel and
the beginning of too swift return
to an importunate identity which finds
adventure in having guests for dinner
We're on the way home" he said
gently.
We talked.
What" he asked. have you seen
that you can't forget?"
"Londoners gathering in a public
square to sing together the night be-
fore they were dispossessed of homes
where families had lived for genera
tions. A Paris night with farmers
sleeping on the sidewalk beside their
vegetables within earshot OF the music
Of q nearby night club"
People and Places.
people he murmured, people
are more interesting than places.
Places gain significance only from a
mlrrored reflection in ones person.
atty People have meaning of their
own"
It was the first of many conversa-
tions on the voyage home. Going
over we were meeting people, facing
adventures, living excitedly by impulse.
The way home was quieter. more re-
Elective. The catalysis that trans
mutes events into experience had set
in. The company Of the doctor out
on deck meant more than gay music
in the grill.
did you keep diary?" he asked.
For the first week.
"It is just as well. A diary or for
eign travel is too often a jurnbled
thing. 1t has bad proportions and
false emphasis and often no more hu-
manity than a guide book. The places
where 7 went are listed previously. 1t
Is not the places that are precious, but
their effect later on him who travels.
IT is better to forget those that do
0OG ut lnCO tIle pdtUtIu'
Definition Of a Cosmopolitan.
After all, the benefit of foreign
travel Is not in things remembered.
It is in the effect on ones personality.
You know the travelled man, the cos
mopolitan. He is free of local preju-
dices. He is interested in people and
things without having to lose his per-
spective by either liking or disliking
them. A cosmopolitan has real toler-
ance, not the kind that is merely criti-
cism withheld. And, without toler-
ance, you never get to know people. I"
We thought of certain woman on
the boat who had said she only liked
one foreign country.
"It's the only one where they seemed
TO like me-" she had explained. They
were nice, the dears."
"A diary often reveals the smallness
Of a person." the doctor said, a small
ness that travel may remedy unless
certain facts set down on paper make
them too real to be forgotten. You
know the. trivial things that get undue
significance in a diary-arguments
with porters or cabbies, things that
prejudice a person against a people
out Of all proportion. since they are
most likely due to mutual deficiencies
in language. Fresh in the diarist's
mind, they are like small apples on
the top of bushel basket. Time and