Before the following Spring term was half ended I began to plan my second trip to Europe.

The work on the ship the second trip over was practically the same, but I had a number of experiences which were new to me.

On this trip there were in all thirteen cattlemen on board, eight college fellows, the foreman and four hoboes. There was "Frenchy," our foreman, an excitable man with an irritable temper, who did not know that men were not to be abused, but in some cases be coaxed.

Another member of the bunch was "Smithy," a little clumsily built fellow, with red whiskers and cross eyes, who had driven eight horses to one of Sells Brothers' Circus wagons for a number of years, and who was in every respect a typical hobo.

Then there was "Rates," a good sort of fellow he was, and at times I really felt sorry for him. He was the hardest worker in the lot and often did twice his share when the other fellows were sick. "Rates" had been a cowboy in Dakota for a number of years, and enlisting in the United States Army while there, he went to the Philippines as a cavalryman, where he remained two years. With us, he was making his first trip across. From London I learned he went to Capetown, South Africa.

The greatest character on board was old Cole. In all my life I have never seen a man his equal in many respects. Medium in size with brawny arms and an over-developed muscular neck, he reminded one of a huge beast, muscles superbly developed and mind untrained. Cole was some forty years of age, and a boaster from the word "Go." At the early age of ten he ran away from his parents in Norway, and secured passage on a sail boat bound for Odessa on the Black Sea. I think him one of the most interesting talkers, from a certain standpoint, I have ever conversed with. At times he would charm me for hours with his tales of adventure by sea and land. I became so intensely interested in this man that at night, when all had retired save the watchman, I would sit with him on deck for hours and hear him spin his tales of the past. Cole had been around the world several times and had visited every continent on the globe. In the heart of India he had served as a lackey to a very rich man; in Australia he herded sheep for two seasons; in Japan he was hostler for an American planter; in South Africa he mined, and in South America, at Buenos Ayres, he worked in the shipyards. Thirty years of his life he had spent in travel. Whiskey and tobacco he craved.

Old man Miller was our night watchman. He was a good old fellow, who did his duty and never had much to say. A baker in Baltimore, he became tired of his occupation, and feeling need of a change, he had sought a cattle boat for recreation.

The ninth day out a terrible mishap came near ending the life of one of our comrades. On this particular afternoon it was raining and the sea was running high. We were all seated in the engine room, hovering around the steam pipes, endeavoring to dry our clothes and warm our chilled bodies, when a shrill cry was faintly heard from the fore part of the boat. Thinking that perhaps trouble had befallen some one, we rushed in the direction from which the cry seemed to have come. Arriving at the door of the "foc's'le," we peeped in, and there, lying on the floor prostrate and apparently dead, was Cole, with blood streaming from his mouth and nostrils. Over him stood a fearless and well developed young fellow, whose name was Max Goodman, with fist clenched and face badly bruised. When I saw the bloody sight I was dumbfounded, for I feared that Cole would never again see the light of day.

Goodman was considered one of the best young college pugilists in the South, and I realized from experience the force of his blows. He was one of our star football players, and we had been on the 'varsity eleven together. Half blinded as he was by passion, I took him by the arm, and led him to the engineer's stateroom, where matters were explained.

It seems that Cole had attempted Goodman's life with a pitchfork. On finding that he was unable to protect himself against this deadly weapon, Goodman retreated to a corner, where he secured a bucket, which he threw at Cole's head, causing him to drop the fork. Goodman then seizing his opportunity, charged on Cole and hit him squarely between the eyes. From the effects of the blows, poor Cole was confined to the ship's infirmary with a broken jaw and a badly bruised face.

Seventeen days after embarking from America we steamed into the mouth of the Thames, and never was there a happier bunch of American college boys together. When we stepped ashore that most beautiful Sunday afternoon we were no longer cattlemen, but young Americans in Europe to see, hear and learn all we possibly could.

Landing at Alexander dock, about twenty miles below London proper, we made our way rapidly to the nearest station of the elevated railway which runs parallel with the Thames, and boarded the first train going to the Fenchurch Street Station. Engaging two four-wheelers, we were soon driven into the square of the great and lavishly furnished Hotel Cecil, where we registered.

Hubert Collins, a university man who was on this trip, and I left London for Liverpool, where we went aboard the steamship "Oravia," which was to transport us to Lisbon, Portugal.

We glided smoothly out of the harbor and on our way to Portugal, which we so much desired to see, and from which point we could easily make our way across the frontier and into old historic Spain, where Don Quixote made his daring raid upon the windmills.

Before we had been an hour out of port we selected our bunks and were comfortably seated in our new quarters. The first day out we made the acquaintance of most of our fellow passengers, and indeed we found them surprisingly agreeable.

Leaving Liverpool on a Thursday, we made our first stop at La Pallice, the seaport of La Rochelle, a town of about twenty thousand inhabitants. Arriving at eight-thirty in the morning, we boarded a car which conveyed us to La Rochelle, at which place we spent the entire day in sight-seeing. We made our lunch on good French wine and sweet cakes.

We returned to our ship about six o'clock that afternoon, tired and footsore from our day's tramp over the city.

That night our ship remained in port, and never shall I forget the Frenchman who mistook me for a sailor and offered to tip me with fifty centimes for pointing out to him the engine room of the ship. The next morning we steamed away, and Monday we made our second stop at Coronna, Spain, where Sir John Moore and his English soldiers were defeated by the Spanish troops.

Thursday we were scheduled to anchor at the port of Lisbon. I sincerely hoped that nothing would happen to delay us, for the novelty of the trip had worn away and we were anxious to get ashore again.

At the last stop we took on board two hundred dirty, foul-smelling Spanish immigrants bound for South America, and they kept things hot with their hand-organs and bagpipes. They never tired of dancing, for they kept it up from morning till night.

There were several beautiful Spanish girls on board, and they danced most gracefully. I hardly think any one can equal the grace of a Spanish dancer.

We arrived in the picturesque natural harbor of Lisbon in the morning and were soon bidding farewell to the many friends that we had made during our week's voyage.

In Lisbon we set about to find a suitable hotel, and this we were not long in doing, for the Hotel Camoes had been recommended to us by the steward of the "Oravia." Here we found everything to our liking.

On arriving at Lisbon I soon found a land far different in customs from any of the other European countries, for everything at first sight appears purely Oriental.

I have traveled in many countries of Europe, but I must confess that none struck me with such simplicity of customs.

Lisbon, like Rome, is built upon several hills, and on first sight one would fancy it a city void of life and pleasure, but upon investigation this opinion is quickly changed. The population of Lisbon is some forty thousand inhabitants. The streets are well kept, and the street car system is surprisingly good. While there, we saw many things of interest, among them being the King's palace and beautifully kept parks, city waterworks, said to be among the finest in the world; Black Horse Square, the Cave of the Dead, magnificent churches, and massively handsome government buildings.

There we witnessed our first bull fight, on a Sunday, and never shall I forget how scorchingly hot I became while occupying my one peseta (15 cents) seat. I later learned that there is a radical distinction between the Portuguese and the Spanish bull fights, the latter being far more cruel.

By good fortune we had the pleasure of seeing the King and Queen with their young son as they drove from the palace.

Two days we spent on a visit to the town of Bremen, which is but a short distance from Lisbon. There is constructed one of the finest of the world's cathedrals, in which rests the remains of Vasco Da Gama. We saw also the point from which he set out upon his voyage to discover a shorter route to India.

In Portugal one feels the spirit of the South. The men are exceedingly small in stature, their hair black and their eyes quick in movement. The women, like many of the Oriental people, are beautiful in girlhood and young womanhood, but the hot, scorching sun soon dries them into old and ugly women. Even the women of the peasant class are remarkably beautiful, with their dark, bewitching eyes, long black silky hair and trim figures. The peddling on the streets is done by women. They wear large ear-rings and big bracelets around ankles and wrists. Their dress is of the simplest, and they wear neither shoes nor hats. On their heads they carry large flat baskets, loaded with their wares, and on every street one can hear them crying their goods and wares to the passing public.

The principal beasts of burden in Portugal are donkeys and oxen. Of course, horses and mules are used, but they are for the richer classes. The wagons are pulled by oxen, sometimes four and six in hand. One car line in Lisbon is operated alone by mules and oxen. Those cars operated by electricity are generally patronized by the better living class, while the cars operated by mules are patronized by the poorer class.

The shaggy ill-kept donkeys present a comical sight, with great big baskets securely tied on either side. The load often looks larger than the donkey. Once while tramping in Southern Portugal I saw a little donkey about the size of a mastiff, plodding along with two cages of chickens on either side and a woman and her babe comfortably seated on the donkey's back en route to market.

One thing peculiarly common in Portugal and foreign to many other lands is the way in which the dairies are conducted. In the stores along the main thoroughfares milch cows are stalled, and when a customer arrives the proprietor simply milks the amount called for fresh from the cow. By this means the buyer is sure of the purity of the milk.

Soon tiring of Portugal and its oddities, we secured tickets for Madrid, but before reaching there we had a rare experience.

Leaving Lisbon about 9:30 we arrived at a station,—Baylo,—where we should have changed cars. There the train remained some minutes and during the wait we purchased two bottles of wine and four loaves of bread. The train moved slowly off, so being hungry, we settled comfortably back into our seats and soon fell to.

As we were preparing to take our afternoon smoke, the conductor came around to collect the tickets. On looking at ours he told us we were on the wrong train. By this time we were some twenty-five miles from Baylo.

At the next station we were put off by the conductor, and from signs and words obtained from a Portuguese-English conversation book, we learned that we would have to remain in that forsaken spot till 11:30 that night. It was then three o'clock in the afternoon. On discovering the costly mistake, we both cursed our ill luck. The worst of it was, we only had between us three hundred rois, thirty cents in Uncle Sam's coin.

Two days later found us in Madrid, tired, dusty and hungry. We soon found a suitable hotel and made ourselves comfortable.

It would be utterly impossible for me to write of all the things of interest which we saw while in Madrid, the capital of Spain. The first day there we spent in resting, but after that we were on the go from morning till night, for we were out to see all there was to be seen.

We visited the Royal Palace, which is said to be next in grandeur to the Czar's Winter Palace at St. Petersburg. This palace is superb in architecture and is magnificently furnished. The royal stables contain hundreds of beautiful horses of all description and carriages of every style. The most interesting part of the palace is the Royal Armory, in which we saw the old but well preserved armor of Christopher Columbus and the war implements and armor of Charles V. In this armory the weapons of all the great Spanish warriors are preserved, always carefully guarded.

The Art Gallery of Madrid is second to none. There are collected the masterpieces of the world's greatest artists, not only of Spain, but of other countries.

The arena for the bull fights is most handsomely constructed, and there we had the pleasure of witnessing our second bull fight. These fights are held every Sunday, and quite often on Wednesdays. At this particular fight there were killed three horses and several bulls. It was far more cruel than the fight we had witnessed at Lisbon.

We made Madrid our headquarters while in Spain and took excursions out to Toledo, the Escurial, Bungos and Granada. These places proved of as much interest to us as did Madrid.

In Madrid the main thoroughfares are kept surprisingly clean, while the back streets are filthy. Several nights we spent theatre-going and saw some of Spain's celebrities.

In the day time, between the hours of eleven and four, the streets are practically deserted, for the sun is so hot that work is impossible. Later in the afternoons the boulevards and squares are crowded.

The Spaniard, the most courteous of all men, is insanely fond of bull fights, cigarettes, coffee, wine and women. The drinking taverns are always crowded in the evening with customers, who sit and sip their strong black coffees and puff their cigarettes, while they chat of dancers and matadores.

A thing most peculiar to Spain is the large amount of counterfeit money which is in circulation. Whenever one purchases any thing and tenders a coin in payment, the shopkeeper invariably tests the purity of the coin on a sounding slate.

From Madrid we journeyed to San Sebastian, where we visited the King's summer palace, and saw his Majesty. We happened here on a Sunday, and we did not miss the opportunity of seeing another bull fight.

San Sebastian is the most fashionable watering-place in Spain and there all the nobles and wealthy people of Portugal and Spain spend the hot season. Here we spent several days in preparing for our journey on foot across the Pyrenees Mountains. I had always wanted to cross the Alps or Pyrenees on foot, so when the opportunity was presented, I surely was not going to let it go by.

Securing heavy walking shoes, suitable clothing, heavy walking sticks, we boarded the train at San Sebastian and alighted at the foot of the hills, where the road starts its winding way across the rugged slopes. Our only arms consisted of a couple of daggers, which we purchased at Toledo and a thirty-eight Colt's revolver.

These lofty mountains and rugged foothills are inhabited by a lawless and murderous set of treacherous Spaniards, who strike whenever they have an opportunity. Not heeding wild stories, we set out upon a journey calculated to test to the utmost the metal of your companion and one's endurance.

The first day carried us into the heart of the wilderness, where on every side one could see nothing but lofty crags covered with large boulders and shaggy grass.

We employed a guide for a day to conduct us safely to the beaten trail, and four days later we were safely settled in the little village of Blanto, on the frontier of France.

Although we had put up with a great many hardships, we enjoyed our tramp, and we only wished our journey had occupied twenty days instead of five, for we felt better each succeeding day, tramping over the rocky pathways. Two nights were spent on the ground under the shadow of the cork trees, while the other nights were spent in huts along the way.

During the tramp our food consisted, principally, of bread, goat's milk and fruit.

One night while sleeping out we were alarmed by the approach of some sort of big animal, which persisted on making our acquaintance. By firing the revolver several times we succeeded in frightening it away, after which we went back to sleep, only to be awakened in the early morning by a Spanish goat herder, who insisted that we had killed one of his dogs. The dead animal proved to be our visitor of the previous night.

At Blanto we made preparation for our railway journey to Paris.

August found us in the gay city of Paris, where we chanced to meet again two of our friends of the cattle boat, Roy Saunders and Philip McDuff.

We arrived in Paris about seven o'clock in the morning. Engaging a four-wheeler we were driven to our hotel, which was situated about a block from the Champs Elysees, the most beautiful boulevard in that wonderful city. After enjoying a good breakfast we repaired to our room, where we discussed the situation, and, I regret to say, it proved a serious one.

We found that our friends, McDuff and Saunders, had spent all the money they had, with the exception of a few francs. Hurbert Collins had about enough to carry him to New York, and I had something like seventy-five francs (fifteen dollars). Three days later Collins left Paris for London, from which place he sailed for New York.

We three other fellows remained in Paris, expecting money by every mail, but we had to content ourselves with mere expectations, for letters containing the money never came. We soon realized that our situation was becoming a desperate one, and that we must do something, for our little supply of funds was diminishing daily.

Finally we decided on advertising in the Paris edition of the New York Herald, thinking that perhaps this would bring us an opportunity for some sort of work. Our advertisement read:

We paid for the insertion of our advertisement in three editions and departed the office feeling that this would surely bring us something. Three days later we received a letter, which read,

In reading this our hearts beat with joy, for we anticipated great things. McDuff planned keeping his position for six months, so that he could learn to speak the French language. I readily decided to do the same, while Saunders expressed his desire of working only long enough to get money to pay his hotel bill and secure a ticket to London.

At the time appointed we called at the gentleman's rooms, which were in the Standard Hotel, and he proved to us a notable disappointment. He proposed to teach us a game by which we could easily break the bank at Monte Carlo and thereby win our fortunes. He said, of course we would have to begin with about a thousand francs. This gentleman, as he termed himself, proved such a disappointment to us that we decided to have some amusement, so we praised his scheme highly and advised him that we would certainly return the following evening.

Several days later we left for London, and you may be sure we did not keep our appointment with the would be prince of schemers.

Paris is pre-eminently the city of pleasures. In the gay summer season one can see hundreds of tourists strolling along the beautiful boulevards. At nights the principal ways are brilliantly lighted, and in passing by one sees scores of people in the fascinating cafÉs enjoying the refreshing night air and the merry music as they sit and sip.

The Champs Elysees at night is one great highway of pleasure. On either side are theatres and drinking gardens, and from every direction one hears the gay music of the orchestras.

One day while walking through one of the many beautifully kept parks we met a party of five young American students. They had ridden on bicycles from London to Paris and had stopped for a rest of several days, after which they intended making their way into Germany. These fellows were all members of the same class at Harvard and were touring Europe on their bicycles.

At our hotel we only secured breakfast and dinner. Lunch usually consisted of cheap French wine and a loaf of bread on one of the penny seats in the park.

We kept up our bluff remarkably well at the hotel, and, honestly, the landlady never even suspected that we were stranded. If she had known it, most probably she would have demanded pay in advance, but we talked so cleverly of how we enjoyed the theatre, how delightful the drive was, and such things that she never had a suspicion of our financial predicament.

One morning I came near getting myself into trouble for drenching a vegetable peddler with water. It seemed to me that he had been standing in the streets below for an hour, crying out his vegetables. I wanted to go to sleep but couldn't with all that racket going on below, so I filled the bowl with soapy water and dashed it all over him. When the water drenched him he yelled like an Apache Indian, and before long a policeman came up to investigate the source of such an act. Of course we were innocent! having just awakened from a sound slumber.

One of the most pleasant surprises of my stay in Paris was while waiting at the mail window of Thomas Cook and Son for the long expected coin, when whom should I see but my old comrade Goodman, vainly endeavoring to gain some information from a chesty policeman. Goodman did not see me and I had some real pleasure in watching him attempting to converse in French, when the only French he could muster to his service was, "Oui, Monsieur," and "Parlez vous FranÇais?" Stepping up to him I laid my hand on his shoulder and said, "Pardon me, sir, but are you an American?"

Never have I seen one's face so radiant with joy and happiness. We soon got together and began to arrange and plan for our future maintenance and support, Goodman being in about the same condition, financially as the rest of us.

One who has never been in a large foreign city, far from friends and home, cannot comprehend the absolute feebleness, helplessness and lonesomeness, which we four fellows experienced for days.

The last night of the miserable days which we spent in Paris came very near terminating disastrously for Goodman and myself. It was a night at one of the largest dance halls in the Latin Quarter, the most dangerous portion of all Paris. Goodman and I paid our admission fee, one franc each, and immediately began looking around, hoping that we might find some one who would be so charitable as to present us to some of the charming dancers.

For a while it seemed that our sole enjoyment would come from looking on, but presently, much to our pleasurable surprise, I saw a young Frenchman whom we had met a few days previous while visiting at the University of Paris. This young fellow with his delightful manner proved quite a help, introducing us to several captivating belles, who, to our surprise could two-step and waltz exquisitely. Here we enjoyed ourselves till the early morning hours and when we were ready to depart, much to our chagrin and disappointment, we found that we were totally lost, traffic having long since ceased.

Our first thought was to find a policeman, but we found that officers were rare in that particular quarter, which added to the horror of the situation. In the hazy distance we caught the glimmer of lights which we instinctively followed, only to find, too late, that they led in the very opposite direction from which we desired to go.

I then suggested to Goodman that we had better look for a four-wheeler, but he stubbornly insisted that we continue on foot, and in less than five minutes we found ourselves beset by thieves and murderers of that treacherous quarter.

At first we pretended not to understand what this sudden and unexpected demonstration meant, but we were not long in learning that it meant injury, robbery, outrage, and probably murder. Immediately Goodman delivered one of his right hand swings straight for the jaw of the foremost thug, and he fell as if stricken by an electric shock. In the meantime both of my arms were pinioned behind me by two husky ruffians. Goodman attempted to rescue me, and received a blow on the arm which deprived him temporarily of its use. The ruffians were dismayed at Goodman's force of arm and physique and turned their attention toward me. I called out, "Run, Max, run." Goodman was loath to leave me, but he soon took to his heels when two men of his size advanced towards him.

They dragged me into a dark alley nearby and there they cursed and swore on finding that I was penniless, with the exception of about two measley francs. The ruffians seemed fearfully disappointed in that they found such a small mite upon my person, for most foreigners have the erroneous impression that all Americans are millionaires. Foolish idea. They seemed to think that Max would return with help, and, after administering several hard kicks and knocks over my head and on my body, I was left to the mercies of Providence, bleeding, dazed and semi-conscious. I staggered to my feet and attempted to find the way to my hotel and my friends. Never again do I expect to feel as I did that morning as I sneaked into the hotel, after having spent such a miserable and perilous night wandering forlornly through the still and desolate avenues of the Latin Quarter.

Realizing that something must be done, we managed to secure enough money to pay our board bill and purchase tickets to London. That night we bade farewell to Paris, and started for London, where we arrived at an early hour, without a blooming sou in our pockets. We finally found a boarding place and spent the morning in sleeping. In the afternoon we set out and pawned what little jewelry we had with us, with which I secured food.

Goodman and I had been thinking of going to Odessa, on the Black Sea, and now that we were desperate we decided to make the trip, if there was any possible way.

After we had been in London some days, we went down on the Thames where the big ships were docked, and finding one ready to set out for Odessa, we stole aboard and stowed away in the bottom of the ship, where no one was likely to discover us.

When well at sea, we intended coming out and offering to do whatever we were ordered. Even hard work on a ship was better than starving in London, for sailors are usually given potatoes three times a day, while a penniless man in London knows not whence comes the next meal.

In the bottom of the dark, dirty, foul-smelling ship we lay for hours, thinking every moment that she would start, but to our disappointment it was another half day before she set out on her voyage. All this time we had been without a single mouthful of food or a drop of water. We became desperate and crawled out of our hiding place to the deck, where we were soon spied and despite our pleading and begging, we were ordered ashore.

The ship was now slowly wending its way down the Thames, with the pilot skilfully guiding it through the deep channels. On either side were the banks dotted with the little huts of fishermen and sailors. We were so feeble from our fast and from lying in that cramped position for hours that neither of us could barely move, and when we were told we would have to swim ashore I almost fainted. I had never had much practice in swimming and to undertake such a task at this time seemed suicidal, for I knew that I was too weak to hold out.

The sailors crowded about us, and our delay seemed to excite the anger of the officer who was ordering us around. He shouted that if we didn't make haste he would have us lowered over the side of the ship by ropes. Realizing that the only thing to do was to swim, we climbed down the rope ladder on the starboard side. Max went first and when at the end of the ladder he leaped into the river and began swimming toward the shore. I yelled at him to wait for me, but he kept on, seemingly frightened out of his wits. Now that it was up to me I climbed slowly down to the bottom of the ladder, and there I clung hesitating. What would it be, suicide or murder? I felt that if I should attempt to swim I would surely drown. Yet if I did not the sailors threatened to throw me over.

While clinging to the end of the ladder it was jerked violently out of my hold, and, losing my balance, I plunged backward into the river. As I fell I heard the wild, hideous shouts of the sailors above who were leaning over the deck rail.

It is a well known fact that one can be drawn under a ship by the suction and cut to pieces by the propeller. Naturally, this thought flashed into my mind as I sank into the water. It seemed to me that my time had come, but I was not one to give up all hope. When I came up again to the water's surface I beat desperately and frantically to keep from going under the second time. Fighting for safety, I began swimming toward the bank, some hundred yards away. Before I had gone ten yards, I realized my wet clothes were hindering my progress. I fought with the current more desperately than ever, for the sounds of "Help! Help!" were ringing in my ears.

I reached the bank safely, but so worn out that I could scarcely drag my limp body to dry land. Looking over my shoulder, I saw poor old Max lying on the opposite bank, and when I waved my drenched handkerchief to him, he saluted by a wave of the arm.

Fortunately the sun was shining, and on the grassy banks of the Thames we sprawled in the warm rays while our drenched garments were being dried. When our clothes had been sufficiently dried we proceeded up the banks opposite each other, and it was not long before we were gripping hands.

The following day while strolling along the Strand we met a couple of friends, Bob Morris and Nelson, both of Georgetown University. These fellows had just arrived in London and from them we secured a small loan, which was, at least enough to feed us for several days to come. A few days later our troubles ended, for Goodman received a letter containing a considerable sum and on the first outgoing steamer he sailed for New York.

Two days later I was steaming homeward on a cattle boat. The return trip lasted ten days and the monotony of it soon palled upon me.