"Dear Sir:—I regret to inform you that I have been run over by an omnibus, and while I was insensible my pocket was picked of all the money I had about me. You may not be aware that in this country a man who gets run over is fined for being in the way; I am at the police-station of the 12th arrondisement, and they refuse to let me go till I pay fifty francs. As I cannot draw money at my banker's at this hour of the morning, I venture to ask a favor of you. I beg that you will oblige me by sending fifty francs by the bearer, and as soon as the banks open I will go to my banker's and get the money to return to you immediately. You can expect me a few minutes past ten o'clock, and I shall hope to find you in. In case you are gone out I will leave the money with the concierge."

The appeal was so reasonable that many a stranger was taken in. The swindler endeavored to keep out of the way of his victim, but if met and interrogated he always declared that he left the money with the concierge, and the latter had doubtless pocketed it. He thrived for a while, but at length the gentle but firm hand of the police was laid upon him, and he was forced to emigrate. The Continental police are apt to interfere with schemes of this sort, and an enterprising man has little chance among them.

The only successful traveler without money is of the class usually designated as the "tramp." He has increased in numbers in the last few years till there is altogether too many of him; so much is this the case that several of the state legislatures have been compelled to pass laws for his suppression, and thus his operations have been greatly curtailed. But in the states where no laws have been made against him he flourishes in all his glory; he generally lives well by begging at kitchen doors, or at houses along the country roads, and he is satisfied with lodgings in a barn or under a haystack. In summer he traverses the country, and in winter the cold drives him to the city, where he stays till the trees bud and blossom again, and the robin sings in the orchards. Then he returns again to the country, and so he goes on from year to year, unwilling to accept honest employment, and giving no equivalent for his support. It is his evident impression that the world owes him a living, and the only duty devolving upon him is to collect the debt.

During the World's fair at Paris in 1867, one of the London papers published a scheme whereby a man could spend three days at the Exposition for 50 francs. It was something like the following:—

  fr. c.
Lodging three nights at 3 francs per night, 9 00
Breakfast three days at a Duval restaurant, at 1 fr. 50 c., 4 50
Omnibus to Exposition, at 50 c., 1 50
Admission to Exposition, 1 fr. daily, 3 00
Lunch and glass of beer, 2 fr. 50 c. daily, 7 50
Return from Exposition, same as going there, 1 50
Dinner, with wine, at Duval restaurant or Table d' Hote, 4 fr. daily, 12 00
Theatre in the evening (gallery), 3 fr., 9 00
Extras, 2 00
Total, 50 00

A Paris paper, a few days later, made an improvement on the above, and showed how a man could spend three days at the Exposition for nothing. This is the way it was done:—

Lodging three nights at police stations, 00 per night, 00
Breakfast at hydrant, three times, 00 each time, 00
Ride to Exposition by hanging on steps of omnibus, 00
Admission, make a bundle of your coat and enter as an exhibitor, 00
Lunch, similar to breakfast with addition of samples, obtained in the alimentary section of the Exposition, 00
Return same way as going, 00
Dinner at hydrant with remains of lunch, 00
Theatre in evening, beg a check from somebody leaving, 00
Total, 00

It would be difficult to find a cheaper system than this, though it is on record that once during a period of steamship opposition between San Francisco and Oregon, the Pacific Mail Steamship Company advertised a free passage and a chromo to anybody who wished to make the voyage. A hundred or more of the impecunious ones of San Francisco thought it would be a good opportunity to go to Oregon and back for nothing, and have a week's board, and so they took passage. Nothing was said about the return; the opposition company made terms with the Pacific Mail just as the steamer reached Portland, and the old rates of fare were at once established. The majority of the tourists had great difficulty in getting home again, and some of them became permanent residents of the region to which they had unintentionally emigrated.

  CHAPTER XXII.

SKELETON TOURS FOR AMERICA AND EUROPE.

It is well to have your route laid out beforehand when you start on a pleasure tour, at least in a general way, so that you can approximate the necessary time and money for the journey. To facilitate the traveler's plans a few skeleton routes will be given, together with an estimate of the time necessary for a rapid journey to cover them. It should not be understood that the routes given embrace a tenth or a twentieth of those that exist; any railway or steamship agent can give you dozens or perhaps hundreds of routes of travel, and after you think the subject is exhausted you can easily find a rival agent who can give you a selection from many more. The lines of travel that are here laid out are intended to embrace the chief cities of Europe and America, together with the principal pleasure-resorts. The traveler will pay his money and take his choice, or rather he will take his choice and then pay his money.

The American tours take New York as a starting and also as a returning point, for the obvious reason that it is the largest city of America. For the European tours London or Liverpool will be taken as the terminal points, since nine-tenths of the Americans who visit Europe land at Liverpool and proceed thence to London with more or less directness.

Any one of the American routes can be covered in from one to two months, with a sufficient amount of time for seeing enough to satisfy an ordinary tourist. This does not allow for a stay of a week or more at each of two or three points, but only for a visit of sufficient length for doing the necessary sight-seeing, and a very little more. As there are no antiquities in American cities, and comparatively few stock sights, a tour of a given number of miles or places will take less time than a similar tour in Europe. A few hundred years hence we may be able to point to ancient buildings and ruins around which cluster many historical associations, but at present, to use a Hibernianism, all our antiquities are modern.

Without further preliminary the following routes are presented:—

New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Lynchburg, Charlotte, Atlanta, Montgomery, Mobile, New Orleans. The Mississippi River, passing Baton Rouge, Port Hudson, Natchez, Vicksburg, Memphis, and Cairo to St Louis; rail via Springfield to Chicago and back to New York by Detroit and Niagara Falls.

New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Lynchburg, Danville, Charlotte, Atlanta, Montgomery, Mobile, New Orleans. The Mississippi River, passing Natchez, Vicksburg, Memphis, and Cairo; thence on the Ohio River, passing Evansville and Louisville to Cincinnati, and back to New York, by Pittsburg and Altoona.

New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Norfolk, day steamer on the James River to Richmond, Gordonsville, Goshen (for Natural Bridge), White Sulphur Springs, Kanawha Falls, Huntington, steamer on the Ohio River to Cincinnati, St. Louis, Springfield, Chicago, through the Lakes to Buffalo, Niagara Falls, Toronto, the Thousand Islands and Rapids of the St. Lawrence to Montreal, Lake Champlain, Lake George, Saratoga, Rutland, Boston, Springfield, Hartford, New Haven, and New York.

New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Springfield, Chicago, rail or steamer through the Lakes to Buffalo, Niagara Falls, Toronto, the Thousand Islands and Rapids of the St. Lawrence to Montreal, rail or boat to Quebec, Gorham, stage to Glen House, Summit of Mount Washington, Crawford House, Fabyan House, Bethlehem, Profile House, rail to Concord, Nashua, and Boston, and Sound steamboat to New York.

None of the routes thus given will carry the traveler farther west than St. Louis. The tourist who wishes to extend his journey to the Rocky Mountains, to Utah, or to the Pacific Coast will be pretty certain to make either St. Louis or Chicago his point of departure, and therefore we will make up our routes from those cities. From St. Louis we can go as follows:—

St. Louis, Kansas City, Denver, Cheyenne, Ogden, Salt Lake City, Virginia City, Sacramento, and San Francisco, where we pause to consider the sights of California. These include the wonderful Yosemite Valley, the North Pacific Coast Railway through the Redwood forests, the Geysers, and the wine-growing regions of Sonoma, and other valleys north of San Francisco Bay.

From San Francisco we can go to Oregon, either overland or by steamship; in either case we arrive at Portland, whence a journey may be made up the Columbia River and back again. As this book goes to press there is no satisfactory route for reaching the East except by returning to San Francisco, but in a few years it will be possible to ride in railway carriages from the head of navigation on the Columbia to St. Paul, in Minnesota, and thence through the states of the Northwest to Chicago.

Suppose we go back from Oregon to San Francisco and are ready to return to the East. We may go as we came as far as Cheyenne, and thence to Omaha, where we have the choice of four routes to Chicago. Or we may turn to the southward, over the Southern Pacific Railway, which will carry us to Los Angeles, and thence to Yuma, by way of the Desert, where at one point we are 266 feet below the level of the sea. From Yuma the route is eastward over the dry plains of Arizona, and among the mountains to the Rio Grande, and thence through New Mexico and along the valley of the Arkansas to Kansas City. From the latter point there is a bewildering choice of railways to St. Louis or Chicago.

The majority of tourists would doubtless prefer going by one route and returning over the other. In case you take the northern route for the westward journey Chicago would be the best point of departure, while if the southern route is chosen the start should be made from St. Louis. In either instance Denver and the mining and grazing regions of Colorado may be visited by a detour—by the northern route from Cheyenne, and by the southern from Pueblo.

Let us turn now to Europe. The voyage over the Atlantic will occupy about ten days each way, and therefore three weeks should be added to all the estimates of time in the following tours. And as before stated the time allowed for the tour itself is only what would give a hurried view of each place, and the objects of interest along the route. If the tourist wishes to go leisurely he should double the figures, and he will not be far out of the way. Or he may add 50 per cent. with the knowledge that he is just avoiding a "rush" through the country.

A tour of twenty days may be made, embracing the following cities:—

Liverpool, Glasgow or London, Antwerp, Rotterdam, The Hague, Amsterdam, Utrecht, Cologne, The Rhine, Wiesbaden, Brussels, Paris, Rouen, Dieppe, Brighton, London, Glasgow, Liverpool or London.

One of forty days will include most of the foregoing, and also Strasburg, Basle, Luzerne, Brunig Pass, Interlaken, Berne, Lausanne, Villeneuve, Martigny, Chamouny, Geneva, Macon, Dijon, Paris, and back to point of departure in England.

One of sixty-five days, embracing England, France, Italy, Austria, Germany, and Belgium, will include Liverpool, Glasgow or London, Dover, Calais, Paris, Macon, Mt. Cenis Tunnel, Turin, Genoa, Leghorn, Rome, Naples, Florence, Venice, Verona, the Austrian Tyrol, Innspruck, Munich, Salzburg, Vienna, Prague, Dresden, Berlin, Hanover, Cologne, Brussels, Antwerp, London or Liverpool.

One of about the same time, and embracing England, Belgium, the Rhine, Germany, Bavaria, Italy, Switzerland, and France, will take the tourist through Antwerp, Brussels, Cologne, the Rhine, Mayence, Heidelberg, Stuttgart, Munich, Lake Constance, Coire, the Splugen Pass, Colico, Lake Como, Bergamo, Verona, Venice, Florence, Rome, Leghorn, Pisa, Genoa, Turin, Milan, Arona, the Simplon Pass, Brieg, Martigny, Chamouny, Geneva, Lausanne, Berne, Thun, Interlaken, the Brunig Pass, Lucerne, Basle, Paris, and thence to Great Britain for the return to America.

One of sixty days will embrace England, France, Italy, and Switzerland, and will include, London, Paris, Dijon, Macon, the Mt. Cenis Tunnel, Turin, Genoa, Pisa, Rome, Naples, Florence, Venice, Verona, Milan, Como, Lugano, St. Gothard Pass, Andermatt, Lucerne, Interlaken, Berne, Neuchatel, Pontarlier, Paris, London or Liverpool.

Leaving out Italy the tour can be made in thirty days, as follows:—London, Paris, Troyes, Mulhausen, Basle, Lucerne, the Bernese Oberland, Interlaken, Berne, Freiburg, Lausanne, Geneva, Macon, Dijon, Paris, London, Glasgow or Liverpool.

The list may be extended indefinitely; enough has been given to show the possibilities of travel, so as to visit the most of the countries of Central and Southern Europe. For the probable cost the reader is referred to preceding pages of this volume, where the expense of travel is set down as nearly as it can be estimated. But, as before stated, no general rule can be made, and the cost of a journey will depend very largely upon the tastes of the traveler, and his financial ability to gratify them.

The American who visits Europe for the first time is apt to be in a hurry, and to endeavor to see too much. He will very likely return with a confused notion of his experiences, and will be obliged to refer to his note-book to know what he has done. Instances have occurred of tourists who could not tell whether St. Paul's Cathedral was in London or Rome, and who had a vague impression that the tomb of Napoleon was beneath the Arc de Triomphe. They told of the wonderful wood-carving to be seen at Venice, and thought that Michael Angelo, John Titian, and Sir Christopher Wren were among the most famous painters Switzerland had ever produced. They ascended the Volcano of Mount Blanc from Vienna, and had a delightful view of the eternal snows of Vesuvius from their hotel windows at Berlin; where they also visited Trajan's column, and the Falls of Schaffhausen. In short they came back with things decidedly mixed, and all from making their journey too quickly.

Moral—Don't be in a hurry.

  CHAPTER XXIII.

GENERAL DIRECTIONS, WITH ROUTES, DISTANCES, ETC., FOR A JOURNEY ROUND THE WORLD.

If stout old Sir Francis Drake, the first navigator to sail around the globe, could appear on earth to-day, he would be quite justifiable in standing transfixed with astonishment. The announcement that he could encircle our sphere in less than eighty days would be too much for his equanimity, when he reflected that the voyage in the Elizabeth, from Plymouth back to Plymouth again, consumed nearly two years, and compelled him to cross the Equator no less than four times. The performance of the modern steamship would be likely to bewilder him, and he could scarcely comprehend the transit of the American Continent in a single week. From New York to Omaha, without change of cars or clothes, would be beyond his understanding, and from Omaha to San Francisco in a Pullman car would appear to his old-fashioned mind like the work of the magician. There is good reason to believe he would not be thankful that he had been awakened from his sleep of three centuries. To the question, "What would Admiral Drake say if he were alive now?" the historic Irishman might respond, "He would say he's glad he's dead!"

From the two years required for the circumnavigation of the globe in the time of Sir Francis, the progress down to our day was not very rapid. For two hundred years after that eventful voyage of the Elizabeth, there was little if any reduction in the time for a similar cruise, though there was a material diminution in the profits to be derived from semi-piratical adventures along the route. The brave old Admiral made his enterprise remunerative in a high degree, both to his government and himself; the courts are said to be troubled at the present day about the rightful ownership of some dozens of millions which belonged originally to the estate of Sir Francis Drake, and have increased through the operations of time and the tables of simple and compound interest.

There was a glorious uncertainty about the voyages of Sir Francis Drake and Captain Cook that exists no longer. It was a problem if ever those navigators should return; and, in the case of Captain Cook, the solution was not to the satisfaction of that enterprising explorer and his friends. But, setting aside the ordinary uncertainty of human affairs, a voyage of circumnavigation to-day is no more problematic than a trip from New York to Chicago. A man may start for a journey around the world, and fix almost to a day the date of his return. On the third day of July, 1877, the writer sailed from San Francisco for Japan, China, India, and other Eastern countries, intending to return by way of Europe. A friend was at the dock to see him off, and, as they shook hands in farewell, the latter said:

"I am going to Paris next spring; when will you meet me there?"

The outward-bound voyager thought a moment, and then said: "I'll meet you in Paris on the 15th of April."

And so they separated, one to go west, and the other, a few months later, to go east.

On the evening of the 14th of April the first-mentioned tourist landed at Marseilles, and the next day he was at Paris; his friend, who had been notified by telegraph, was at the station to meet him, and the meeting, as we see, was exactly on the day appointed. A traveler can arrange his time with absolute certainty, if he will take the trouble to study the tables of the steamship and railway lines, and determine the period of his detention in each city and country along his route. And this is precisely what was done in the instance above mentioned.

A man in New York thinks nothing of making a business appointment for a week from to-day; he is going to Chicago in the meantime, but will be back on the date he names. It is just as feasible for him to say, "It is now the 13th of June; I must go to Hong Kong for a little business which will keep me a couple of days, and the movements of the steamers are such that I shall lose a day and a half waiting there when my business is ended. If you will call at my office at noon on the 24th of August, we will go to lunch and talk this matter over; I really haven't time to attend to it to-day. I may possibly have to go to Calcutta; if so, I'll telegraph you, and we'll make the appointment hold over till the 18th of September, as I shall arrive by the steamer of the 17th. Good-day; I leave by this evening's train."

Year by year the travel around the world increases, and doubtless it will continue to increase as people become familiar with the requirements of time and money for the journey.

A ticket around the world can be bought at a price varying from one thousand to twelve hundred dollars, according to the line of steamers chosen for certain parts of the route, and whether one passes through India or adheres to the steamer from Singapore to Suez. The time required is from three months upward, according to the abilities of the traveler to spare it, and the amount of money at his disposal. The old adage, that time is money, is nowhere more applicable than on the journey around the world. You can't have a good time unless you have the money to pay for it, and you can't have a good time with your money unless you have time enough to spend it properly.

"How much does it cost to go around the world?" is as difficult to answer as "How much does a horse cost?" One man will get along with a quarter of what another will consider absolutely necessary, and can live luxuriously on what will starve another. Tastes and ways differ in travel as in anything else, and an exact rule cannot be set for everybody. A youth who has not learned by practical experience the value of a dollar, who indulges in ways of living more or less riotous, and, above all, who occasionally whiles the weary hours at the seductive game of poker with chance travelers, will require a liberal allowance to enable him to make the circuit of the world in what he would call "style." This allowance might be anywhere from five or six thousand dollars upward, and would probably leave occasional souvenirs in the shape of unpaid bills, which are altogether too numerous at present for the reputation of our countrymen. But to the man of unwasteful habits, who knows the worth of his money, and quietly makes up his mind to have it, who uses his eyes and his brains, finds what is proper to pay in each instance, and then pays it, the journey can be made in ten months, at an expenditure of about four thousand dollars. Ten months will allow for sufficient stoppages along the route, and the sum mentioned will enable him to travel first-class on all ships, and stop at first-class hotels—if the majority of the caravansaries in the East can be called first-class. Generally the only features about them that warrant that name are their bills. The traveler can also purchase a fair allowance of inexpensive "curios," as souvenirs of his tour, without going beyond the last-named figures.

If ladies are of the party the expenses will be a trifle more than where it consists entirely of the sterner sex. Ladies need have no hesitation in attempting the tour of the world; they might even go unaccompanied by gentlemen, but it is not advisable for them to do so. Hotels are to be found everywhere on the great routes of travel, and even on some of the by-ways there is passable accommodation. In the tropics where the heat is so great as to compel passengers to sleep on deck when going from one port to another, one side of the deck is reserved for ladies and the other is allotted to the men.

It is not advisable for a traveler to buy his ticket at once for the entire journey, but to take it in sections as he goes along. From New York, or any other American city, to Yokohama is enough for the first section; beyond Yokohama the routes divide, and your movements depend upon circumstances which generally are not easy to foresee. Therefore, when you have determined to buy a ticket around the world, buy it as you go along, and not all in a lump.

The best way of going around the world from America is by going westward. The seasons can be taken more easily in their natural course in this way than by going eastward, and each country on the route can be seen in the best time for seeing it. The monsoons can be taken in a favoring direction, and the typhoons, those scourges of the Eastern waters, can be avoided. From May to July is the best time for leaving San Francisco—not earlier than the first of May, and not later than the first week of July. This will give the summer months in Japan, the autumn for China and Siam—if the latter country is included—and the winter for Java, the Straits, Ceylon, and India. By the end of February one should leave India, spend a fortnight or three weeks in Egypt, and then go on to Europe. He can land in Naples late in March or early in April, and then go north with the season till he reaches that Mecca of the wanderer—Paris. Thence, if he does not possess the ingenuity to find his way home, he has traveled to very little purpose; whether he will be anxious to find his way home from Paris at an early date depends largely upon circumstances—and upon Paris.

It is advisable for the intending traveler to have his finances so arranged that he will run no risk of being stranded penniless in some Eastern port, and compelled to wait till a remittance reaches him. A letter of credit for the whole amount needed on the journey is the best thing to have; but if this is not attainable, he should carry a credit for at least half the amount, and arrange for remittances in sterling drafts on London to meet him at points previously designated. These should be forwarded in duplicate in registered letters, and by different mails, so that a loss of one will not be likely to mean the loss of both. And in order to take these registered letters from the post-office, and for other purposes of identification, every traveler should carry a passport.

In taking out a letter of credit, be sure and have it from a house that has correspondents in the principal cities and the open ports of the East. The same precaution should be observed relative to drafts that may be forwarded to meet the traveler at any of the points he is to touch; and he should not conclude that because he is personally cognizant of the high standing of a banking-house, it will be all right wherever he goes. A draft made by a well-known house in New York, on the Barings of London, reached the writer in Singapore; when he proceeded to turn it into cash he was surprised to find that nobody in Singapore had ever heard of the makers of the draft, and if he had been without introductions, and had had no letter of credit in reserve, he would have been in a very awkward predicament. Too much precaution cannot be observed about one's means of obtaining money in the far East; and to be stranded on the other side of the world without cash is very inconvenient.

We will suppose you have equipped yourself with the necessary letter of credit; the next thing is to have a suitable frame of mind for the journey, and the next a light and properly garnished trunk. The frame of mind is an important consideration. If you are a morose, ill-tempered brute, determined to see nothing good in any country but your own, you had better stay at home; and if a friend has arranged to travel with you, it would be an act of kindness to advise him to drop you and go with some one else, or alone.

Arrange your time-table as nearly as possible before starting, and then tell your friends where letters will reach you. Have them sent to the principal post-offices—Yokohama, Hong Kong, Singapore, Calcutta, Bombay, etc.—according to the dates you expect to be in those cities, and when you are about leaving those places you can instruct the post-master as to your subsequent address. If you do so your mail matter will be forwarded, and with proper care you will be pretty certain to get all your letters. Do not have newspapers sent after you, as they are not very likely to turn up on account of the accumulating postage.

As to baggage, you don't want a large amount to start with. A couple of ordinary suits of clothing, and a dress-suit for dinners, will be the basis; remember that the dress-suit is indispensable, as its absence will sometimes deprive you of the pleasure of attending an interesting ceremonial, and that a gentlemen in the East, as well as in Europe, is expected to wear an evening garb when invited to dinner. A light overcoat should be taken, and a heavy one for rough work; the latter should be of coarse but strong material, and will often come handy at sea when storms are blowing, and on land when the owner is compelled to camp out or travel through severe weather. A rug or shawl may be taken, if one has a fancy for it, but it is not at all necessary, as the stout overcoat supplies its place, and serves the additional purposes of an overcoat. Take the same underclothing that you would take for a six weeks' trip anywhere in the States; when your stock is exhausted you can buy a fresh supply in any of the ports or inland cities of the East, particularly the former. Clothing of all kinds is as cheap in Hong Kong, Shanghai, Yokohama, Singapore, Calcutta, Bombay, or the other great ports, as in New York, and in some of the cities I have mentioned it is cheaper. It would be well to have your shirt-maker get you up a dozen shirts of a kind specially adapted to the journey, and if you are inclined to be a "swell," you might take two or three dozen. Have them made of the strongest muslin you can find; pay no attention to fineness, but a great deal to strength. The front, or "bosom," may be as fine as you please, but I wouldn't be too particular about it; as to the rest, the nearer you can come to sail-cloth or sheet-iron the better.

The laundress in the far East is invariably a man, and, to judge by the way he knocks your clothing to pieces, he must be the strongest man in the community. He is native and to the manner born, and his manner is not at all pleasing. In Yokohama, and other Japanese cities, he is, of course, a Jap; in China, he is the "wanchee-washee" man, with whom San Francisco and New York are familiar; in Java, he is a Malay, and in India he is a Bengalee. No matter which one you have first, you will think he is worse than any of the others can possibly be, and when you try the others you will find that your first love was the mildest of them all. The Bengalee is the worst of the lot for destructiveness, but he is only an infinitesimal distance ahead of the Chinese.

The Eastern way of washing is to pound the garments with a club, when clubs are handy, but as they are generally out of the way, and firewood is dear, the artist contents himself with laying your shirts and other things on a stone, and pounding them with another stone; and the rougher these two geological products are, the better for his purpose.

Three or four washings will generally make an end of handkerchiefs; shirts and other garments may survive a sixth or eighth journey to the lavatory, but the tenth or twelfth will usually send them to the rag-bag. Therefore I advise that all underlinen should be of the strongest material, and fineness a secondary consideration.

When you reach Yokohama you will probably want to buy some clothing suitable for the warm climate of the East. A sola topee, or sun-hat, is the first requisite; it is made of pith, has a white cover which can go to the wash every few days, and an internal arrangement so that the wearer's head is constantly cooled by the air which circulates around it. Then you will want some suits of white linen, about ten of them, which will cost you from five to six dollars a suit; a couple of suits of blue serge, at ten or twelve dollars each. These, with your ordinary clothing, will be sufficient for your wants, if you exercise proper care in keeping close at the heels of the washman; you will generally find that your washing will be promptly done, but it is always best to have an extra provision laid up for a rainy day. In the East everybody carries a goodly amount of baggage, and as there is always a plentiful supply of porters, and the allowance of the steamship companies is liberal, you need not mind the addition of a trunk or two.

Well, we are off from New York; we are not in a frightful hurry, and are determined to see as much as we can for our time and money.

The transcontinental trains between New York and San-Francisco are a daily affair each way, and the regular time of running through is seven days. The price of a ticket varies according to the harmony, or the lack of it, between the Eastern roads; $140 may be taken as a fair average for the through ticket, with an addition of $25 or $30 for sleeping-coaches and meals.

From San Francisco, the departures are semi-monthly for Japan and China; the steamers of the Pacific Mail and Occidental and Oriental Companies perform the service alternately, so that each line sends a ship every month. They were formerly in opposition, but are now working harmoniously; a passage-certificate bought of the one is good on the ships of the other, and there is nothing to choose between them, so far as the comfort of the voyage is concerned. The running time to Yokohama is about twenty days, and no matter what the ship or which the company that the traveler patronizes, he is pretty certain to be pleased with his fare and treatment. A ticket from San Francisco to Yokohama costs $250, and if bought in New York it entitles the passenger to an allowance of two hundred and fifty pounds of baggage overland, instead of the ordinary allowance of one hundred pounds.

After the "globe-trotter," as the tourist is called in the East, has done with Yokohama, Tokio, and the eastern part of the empire, he can take a steamer any Wednesday afternoon for Hiogo, which is the port of Osaka and Kioto. This is a voyage of a day and a half; and when the western part of the empire has been seen, another steamer may be taken to Shanghai, passing through the famous inland Sea of Japan, and halting at Simoneseki and Nagasaki. The line is weekly each way, and is known as the Mitsu Bishi (Three Diamonds); it is a Japanese organization, sustained by a government subsidy in the shape of a mail contract, and its ships are mostly of American build. Old travelers on the line between New York and San Francisco by the Isthmus route will find an acquaintance in the steamer New York, transformed to the "Tokio Maru," and the Oregonian to the "Nagoya Maru"; the Golden Age is the "Maru" something or other, and so are several of the former vessels of the Pacific Mail Company. A ticket from Yokohama to Shanghai costs $45, and it makes no difference whether you buy it through or in sections. There are chance steamers at frequent and irregular intervals, that carry passengers at a reduced rate, but they are less comfortable than the Mitsu Bishi Company's boats, and more uncertain. The crews of the Mitsu Bishi steamers are Japanese, the waiters in the cabin are Chinese, and the captains, officers, engineers, and stewards, are Americans, English, or some other Caucasian nationality. When the equipage of one of these steamers is drawn up for inspection, the affair is emphatically une revue des deux mondes.

From Shanghai one can ascend the Yang-Tse as far as Hankow, a distance of a trifle over six hundred miles, and there are boats of the China Merchants' company every three or four days. The price of a ticket varies; it was once $400 each way, but at the time of my visit to Shanghai it had fallen to $18, in consequence of an opposition by an English company. It was the intention, as soon as the opposition ended, to raise it again to $50, where it probably now is. The steamers are large and comfortable, and the table is excellent.

The China Merchants' Company has a weekly line to Tien-Tsin, whence one may go overland to Pekin, a distance of ninety miles. There is said to be a smooth way of the world and a rough one; where the smooth one may be I will not attempt to say, but there is little doubt that the rough one is the stretch of ninety miles between Tien-Tsin and Pekin. About two thousand years ago the road was built, and it has never been repaired since the contractors left it; it was made of large and irregular boulders, badly laid down, with no attempt at evenness, and has been a good deal damaged by old Tempus Edax Rerum in the twenty centuries that he has been gnawing at it.

You can make the journey to Pekin on horseback, by cart, or by a mule-litter, or you can go on foot. For a vigorous man, the saddle is recommended; for a more luxurious one, the mule-litter; for a brave and small one, the cart; and a man who has a touch of the walking mania can try pedestrianism. The mule-litter is a box like a covered chair, slung on a couple of poles; these poles are long enough, and just far enough apart, to serve as shafts for two mules—one in front and the other in the rear—and are suspended over the saddles of the beasts by stout straps. The pace is not unpleasant, and the movement would soon become monotonous were it not that the suspensory apparatus is constantly giving way, and letting the box to the ground with a general shaking up as the result. Occasionally the mules run away, indulge in kicking-matches, or otherwise disport themselves in ways more or less exciting; so that the traveler is in no danger of perishing with ennui.

The Chinese cart is a small box on a single pair of wheels; it is not long enough for an average man to lie down in, and too low for him to sit erect. The occupant is doubled up very much as if he were in a wine-cask; the cart has no springs, but the body rests directly on the axle, so that every jolt, however small, is felt by him. When all these facts are considered, in connection with the character of the road, it will be readily seen that a traveler who journeys from Tien-Tsin to Pekin in a Chinese cart, feels, on arrival, very much as though he had been passed through a patent clothes-wringer.

There is another route, via Tung-Chow. A Chinese boat is taken to the latter point, which is twelve miles from the capital; the usual way is to go to Pekin by the road, and return by Tung-Chow and the river. In this way the current favors, and the descent can be made in a couple of days, while the ascent takes four or five. Few travelers to Pekin fail to visit the Great Wall, which is about a hundred miles northwest of the city. Saddle-horses and mule-litters are the modes of conveyance, and the most of the provisions which you expect to consume on the journey must be taken along. The journey from Shanghai to Pekin and back again will require about a month in time, and $400 in money, including the visit to the Great Wall.

Brief allusion has been made to the steam lines in the far East on another page. A more detailed account will be given here.

From Shanghai to Hong Kong there is a weekly service, which is performed alternately by the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company (English), and the Compagnie Messageries Maritimes (French). These lines are usually called the "P. and O.," and the "French Mail," and it may be roundly stated that they run from England and France to China and Japan. One week there comes the P. and O. boat, and the next the French Mail, and so they go on alternately each way weekly, year after year. The fares are about the same, but the French line includes wine in the price of passage, which the English does not. As far as I could observe, the French steamers are the most comfortable, their table is better, and there is more civility on the part of the officers. It is noticeable that the majority of the passengers on the French steamers are English, and I have known Englishmen who were intensely patriotic in other matters to delay their departure a week to go on a French ship instead of an English one.

The itinerary of the P. and O. Line from Shanghai to Southampton touches the following ports:—Hong Kong, Singapore, Penang, Pointe de Galle, Aden, Suez, Port Said, Alexandria, Malta, and Gibraltar. There are branch lines between Hong Kong and Yokohama, Singapore and Batavia, (Java,) Pointe de Galle and Australia, Pointe de Galle and Calcutta, Aden and Bombay, and Alexandria and Brindisi. The French route is from Shanghai to Hong Kong, Saigon, Singapore, Pointe de Galle, Colombo, Aden, Suez, Port Said, Naples, and Marseilles, with branches between Hong Kong and Yokohama, Singapore and Batavia, Pointe de Galle and Calcutta, Aden and the Mauritius. Both lines receive a heavy subsidy from their respective governments in the form of mail contracts, and they do a great deal to maintain English and French prestige throughout the East. For several years the P. and O. had a virtual monopoly of the business, and looked with disdain upon the efforts of the French to enter the field. But not only did the French Line establish itself, but other lines have sprung up, and manage to flourish without the advantage to be gained from a contract for carrying the mails. There is one known as the "Holt Line," which performs a semimonthly service each way between England and China; and there are numerous irregular steamers in addition, so that there is no lack of communication between the Occident and the Orient.

The rates of fare in the East are decidedly high, when we compare them with the price of passage over the Atlantic and on the seaboard lines of the United States. From Yokohama or Shanghai, by the English line, to Southampton, or to Marseilles by the French one, the fare is £105, or $525 in round figures. The local fares are higher than this in proportion. It is $63 from Shanghai to Hong Kong—a run of three days; and $108 from Singapore to Pointe de Galle—a voyage of five days. To Java, by the branch line from Singapore, a voyage of exactly forty-eight hours, requires a disbursement of $46. You will save about 20 per cent. on your fare by purchasing a through ticket; but, as already hinted, the saving is accompanied by a restriction of one's movements that more than balances the advantage in the reduction.

At the agencies in the East they do not assign you to a room on the steamer when you buy your ticket, but tell you that you will get it from the steward when you go on board. They give as a reason for this the impossibility of knowing what rooms are reserved, as the tickets are generally bought before the ship arrives in port, and before there is any communication between the purser and the agent. This excuse will not hold good at the beginning point of the voyage, and so they plumply tell you that it is not their custom to assign the rooms except on board, and they can make no deviation from their rules. Generally the ships are not crowded, and so the custom works well enough; in case of a rush of passengers it also works admirably—for the company. The agent can continue to sell tickets to all applicants and assure them that there is abundance of room, although he knows that he has sold twice or three times the capacity of the steamer. The ship that performs the branch service for the French company between Singapore and Batavia has accommodations in her cabin for sixteen persons—eight rooms, with two berths in each room. The agent at Singapore blandly assured the writer that there were very few passengers engaged, and he would be certain to have a room to himself—when all the time more than forty passengers were booked, and the agent had the list in his possession. It may be impolite to say he lied, but he certainly was not mathematically exact. When the steamer sailed she had fifty-two passengers, and they were packed like negroes on a slave-ship. Of course there was much grumbling, but the officers of the steamer referred the matter to the agent—whose fault it was; and the agent was safe on shore, and out of reach of the angry travelers.

Two things are necessary to one's comfort in traveling on steamers in the tropical East—pajamas, and a bamboo chair. A pajama suit consists of a loose sack and drawers of the Chinese pattern, and nearly every foreigner in the East adopts them, in place of the night-shirt of civilization, for sleeping purposes. They may be of muslin, silk, grass-cloth, or anything else that suits the wearer's fancy—some prefer one thing and some another, and there is no way of harmonizing tastes. Any Chinese tailor can make you a pajama suit at a few hours' notice; and if you would be comfortable, you will order half a dozen suits at least.

Around the hotels and on board ship it is perfectly en règle to be in pajamas between the hours of 9 P.M. and 8 A.M.; and on the steamer it is interesting to observe how universally the passengers avail themselves of the permission. Through the tropics, it is generally too hot to sleep below; nearly everybody takes to the deck and makes it his home by day and by night. The reclining chair comes in play here, as it can serve as a bed for most persons, and at any rate it is a capital lounge. It can be bought very cheaply in all the Eastern ports, and no traveler's equipment is complete without it. And the man who neglects to provide himself with pajamas in the first port he reaches will have reason to regret his action. He might even do a more unwise thing than purchase a supply before he leaves San Francisco, provided the Chinese have not all gone thence before he reaches the Pacific coast.

The hours for meals vary somewhat on the different lines, but may be taken as resembling in general the hours on the transatlantic ships, with the exception that they are fewer. As soon as you rise you can have a preliminary coffee or tea, or you may have it before you rise, if it so please you. Then from eight to ten you have breakfast, which consists of omelets, meat of two or three kinds, and curry, the latter being universal and perennial. Somewhere between noon and 1 P.M. there is a cold lunch with fruit, and at 5 P.M. comes dinner. This is not much unlike the steamship dinner of other parts of the world, except that the curry comes up warm and smiling on every occasion, and is eaten by nearly everybody. Few people like it when they first eat it, and few people eat it half a dozen times without acquiring a taste for it that is akin to love. It is conceded that curry is necessary to keep the liver in a proper condition of activity, and the man who does not eat it is very liable to find himself out of order internally in a very short time. It is surprising that such a warm substance as curry should be the proper thing in a hot climate; but the weight of testimony is emphatically in its favor, and we should respect the verdict of time and experience.

There is no pleasanter steamship life anywhere than in the East, so far as the associations are concerned. The brainless idiots that add a pang to existence on the transatlantic voyage are rarely seen so far away from home as the coast of China; the majority of the people you meet there are the possessors of at least a fair amount of intelligence, and know how to use it. Among twenty passengers on a steamer, you will find three or four globe-trotters, like yourself; as many merchants; as many clerks and other employés of Eastern houses; two or three men who have been or still are in the consular or diplomatic service; a banker or two; two or three soldiers of fortune who have been serving one of the Oriental governments in one way or another; and the balance will be made up of nondescripts, who cannot be classed in any regular list. If there are any of the gentler sex, they will be the wives, widows, sisters, or daughters of men who have been making a home in the East; and you will occasionally encounter some of them who have made a dozen voyages back and forth, and know every wave of the sea along the route. The great majority of the passengers are sure to have had sufficient attrition against the world to wear away their rough corners; you will find them social without forwardness, and communicative without being garrulous.

If the traveler is limited in time and money, he will avoid the north of China, and also the western part of Japan; he will proceed direct from Yokohama to Hong Kong, and can take for this purpose a ship of either of the transpacific lines or of the English or French mail companies. The former are preferable, as the fare, when combined with that from San Francisco, is lower, and the steamers are larger and better than the English or French mail-packets. From Hong Kong one can go daily to Canton (ninety miles) in about eight hours; and by no means should a tourist omit seeing this most interesting of the cities of China. From Hong Kong, when Canton has been finished, the regular route leads to Singapore—the English steamers going direct, and the French ones touching at Saigon. Those who wish to leave the regular track may go to Siam by steamers that leave every week or ten days, and, though of English build and ownership, are managed by a Chinese agency, and carry their cargoes on Chinese account. They are nominally freight-steamers, but have accommodations for a few passengers; and the same is the case with the steamers that will take the tourist from Bangkok to Singapore when his visit to Siam is concluded.

From Singapore you may make a detour to Java or Manila, but eventually you will find your way back again, since all the routes of the East lead by this point, as, anciently, all roads led to Rome. If you have a month to spare when south of the equator, you may make a circular trip on a Dutch steamer that goes to all the principal ports of Java and the Spice Islands, and comes around in the end to her starting-point. When back in Singapore, and ready to go on to the westward, you have choice of two, or, rather, of three routes: you can go by mail-steamer to Ceylon, and stop at Galle, whence you proceed by land to Colombo, and Kandy; you can go to Calcutta direct; or you may go to Calcutta by a steamer that halts at Malacca, Penang, and Moulmein a day each, and two days at Rangoon. This indirect voyage consumes seventeen days, but it is full of interest. The direct voyage to Calcutta requires six days.

If you do India by way of Ceylon, you will finish the land of spicy breezes, where only man is vile, and then cross from Colombo to Tuticorin, whence you can go by rail to the uttermost parts of the great Indian peninsula; or you may take, once a week, a ship of the British India Steam Navigation Company, which makes the voyage to Calcutta in fourteen days, touching at Madras and a dozen other ports. As the ship is usually halted in the daytime and moving at night, this mode of traveling is not at all unpleasant. From Calcutta the railway will bear us to the north, and we can see Benares, Agra, Cawnpore, Lucknow, Allahabad, Delhi, Jeypoor, and other cities, arriving eventually at Bombay.

Six weeks will serve for seeing India, or, rather, that part of it in the Bengal and Bombay presidencies, and very few who have done the country will care to return.

The distance from Bombay to Calcutta, by the direct route, is 1,409 miles, and the fare (first-class) about $60. Benares and Allahabad are the only cities of importance that lie on the direct line; the others are reached by branches, and it will require another thousand miles of travel to take them in.

We will suppose we have finished with India, and are ready to leave Bombay for Egypt and Europe. The P. & O. Company sends a weekly steamer, and its departure is fixed for Saturday during the prevalence of the southwest monsoon, and for Monday when the monsoon is not blowing. There is another weekly service, formed by the Hall Line and the Anchor Line, making fortnightly departures alternately. There is an Italian line and an Austrian line, each monthly, and there are numerous irregular steamers, so that four departures a week may be fairly counted upon. The fares vary considerably; the P. & O. charges $250 to carry you to Suez, 3,000 miles: the Italian line will take you there for $160; the Anchor and Hall lines for $155, and the Austrian for $150. Patronage appears to be fairly divided among the lines; those who have plenty of money, together with a great many who have not, go by the P. & O. ships, while others who are more matter-of-fact, and do not care to keep up appearances, select the cheaper lines.

To irascible bachelors, the voyage from Bombay westward has a lively terror. From February to May the steamers are crowded with children and their nurses on their way to England, and, no matter what ship you take, you cannot avoid them. Like the poor, they are always with you, and cannot be shaken off; very often the number of juvenile passengers equals that of the adults, and on occasions painfully frequent it is greater. From rosy morn till dewy eve, and from eve till morn again, they make things the reverse of monotonous, and a passionate lover of infantile ways has all the entertainment he desires. Selfish and irreverent travelers are apt to think affectionately of King Herod, and wonder if his like will ever be seen again.

This migration of children is for the reason that they lose health, and generally their lives, if kept in India beyond the age of four or five years. The spring and early summer are considered the best time for them to arrive in Europe, and consequently the traveler at this season finds the steamers filled with them. They are mostly of the spoiled class, accustomed to have their own way, to receive the attentions of a multitude of servants, and to resent with anger the least attempt to thwart them. The companies would doubtless find it to their profit to send an occasional steamer at higher rates, from which children should be excluded, just as our transatlantic lines advertise ships carrying no steerage passengers, and charge more for places thereon.

In Egypt, one can go directly through the canal, and thence to Europe, or he may land at Suez, go by rail to Cairo (eight hours), and when he has done with Cairo he may go in four hours to Alexandria, where he will find three or four steamers a week for Brindisi, Naples, Marseilles, and England, and steamers at least once a week for Syria, Palestine, Asia Minor, Constantinople, the Black Sea, and also for Greece and the Adriatic. He may take his time in Europe, and get home the best way he can.

Following is a table of distances of a journey around the world, without taking into account the numerous detours, which will vary according to the tastes and means of each traveler, and the time he has allotted to himself for his personal gratification, either in the pursuit of pleasure, science and art, or commerce:—