To My Small Daughter
Who bade me shed a tear at the tomb of Napoleon,
which I was very glad to do, because when I got there
my feet certainly were hurting me.

NOTE

The picture on page 81 purporting to show the undersigned leaping head first into a German feather-bed does the undersigned a cruel injustice. He has a prettier figure than that—oh, oh, much prettier!

The reader is earnestly entreated not to look at the picture on page 81. It is the only blot on the McCutcheon of this book.

Respectfully,

The Author.

CONTENTS

Chapter I. We Are Going Away From Here

Chapter II. My Bonny Lies over the Ocean—Lies and Lies and Lies

Chapter III. Bathing Oneself on the Other Side

Chapter IV. Jacques, the Forsaken

Chapter V. When the Seven A.M. Tut-tut leaves for Anywhere

Chapter VI. La Belle France Being the First Stop

Chapter VII. Thence On and On to Verbotenland

Chapter VIII. A Tale of a String-bean

Chapter IX. The Deadly Poulet Routine

Chapter X. Modes of the Moment; a Fashion Article

Chapter XI. Dressed to Kill

Chapter XII. Night Life—with the Life Part Missing

Chapter XIII. Our Friend, the Assassin

Chapter XIV. That Gay Paresis

Chapter XV. Symptoms of the Disease

Chapter XVI. As Done in London

Chapter XVII. Britain in Twenty Minutes

Chapter XVIII. Guyed or Guided?

Chapter XIX. Venice and the Venisons

Chapter XX. The Combustible Captain of Vienna

Chapter XXI. Old Masters and Other Ruins

Chapter XXII. Still More Ruins, Mostly Italian Ones

Chapter XXIII. Muckraking in Old Pompeii

Chapter XXIV. Mine Own People

Chapter XXV. Be it Ever so Humble