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These Germans run everything as though you were the owner of the line。 The discipline is like that of the German Army or of a man…of…war； everything moves by the stroke of a bell； and they have had dances and speeches and concerts and religious services and lectures every other minute。 Into all of these I have gone with much enthusiasm。 We have at the captain's table Dr。 Field； the editor of The Evangelist； John Russell； a Boston Democrat； who was in Congress and who has been in public life for over forty years。 A Tammany sachem； who looks like and worships Tweed； and who says what I never heard an American off the stage say： 〃That's me。 That's what I do；〃 he says。 〃When I have insomnia； I don't believe in your sleeping draughts。 I get up and go round to Jake Stewart's on Fourteenth Street and eat a fry or a porterhouse steak and then I sleep good…that's me。〃 There is also a lively lady from Albany next to me and her husband； who tells anecdotes of the war just as though it had happened yesterday。 Indeed； they are all so much older than I that all their talk is about things I never understood the truth about； and it is most interesting。 I really do not know when I have enjoyed my meal time so much。 The food is very good； although queer and German； and we generally take two hours to each sitting。 Dr。 Field is my especial prey and he makes me laugh until I cry。 He is just like James Lewis in 〃A Night Off；〃 and is always rubbing his hands and smacking his lips over his own daring exploits。 I twist everything he says into meaning something dreadful； and he is instantly explaining he did not really see a bullfight； but that he walked around the outside of the building。 I have promised to show him life with a capital L； and he is afraid as death of me。 But he got back at me grandly last night when he presented a testimonial to the captain； and referred to the captain's wife and boy whom he is going to see after a two years' absence； at which the captain wept and everybody else wept。 And Field； seeing he had made a point； waved his arms and cried； 〃I have never known a man who amounted to anything who had not a good wife to care forexcept YOU〃 he shouted； pointing at me； 〃and no woman will ever save YOU。〃 At which the passengers； who fully appreciated how I had been worrying him； applauded loudly； and the Doctor in his delight at having scored on me forgot to give the captain his testimonial。
There are two nice girls on board from Chicago and a queer Southern girl who paints pictures and sings and writes poetry； and who is traveling with an odd married woman who is an invalid and who like everyone else on board has apparently spent all her life away from home。 I have spent my odd time in writing the story I told Dad the night before I sailed and I think it in some ways the best； quite the best； I have written。 I read it to the queer girl and her queer chaperon and they weep whenever they speak of it； which they do every half hour。 All the passengers apparently laid in a stock of 〃Gallegher〃 and 〃The West〃 before starting； and young women in yachting caps are constantly holding me up for autographs and favorite quotations。 Yesterday we passed the Azores near enough to see the windows in the houses； and we have seen other islands at different times； which is quite refreshing。 Tomorrow I shall post this and the trip will be over。 It has been a most happy start。 I am not going to write letters often； but am going head over ears into this new life and let the old one wait awhile。 You cannot handle Africa and keep up your fences in New York at the same time。 I am now going out to talk to the Boston couple； or to propose a lion hunt to Dr。 Field。
Since I wrote that last I have seen Portugal。 It made me seem suddenly very far away from New York。 Portugal is a high hill with a white watch tower on it flying signal flags。 It is apparently inhabited by one man who lives in a long row of yellow houses with red roofs； and populated by sheep who do grand acts of balancing on the side of the hill。 There is also a Navy of a brown boat with a leg…of…mutton sail and a crew of three men in the boatnot to speak of the dog。 It is a great thing to have a traveled son。 None of you ever saw Portugal； yah！
I am now in Gibraltar。 It is a large place and there does not seem to be room in this letter； in which to express my feelings about Moors in bare legs and six thousand Red…coats and to hear Englishmen speak again。 When I woke up Gibraltar was a black silhouette against the sky； but toward the south there was a low line of mountains with a red sky behind them； dim and mysterious and old； and that was Africa。 Then Spain turned up all amethyst and green； and the Mediterranean as blue as they tell you it is。 They wouldn't let me take my gun into Gibraltar。 They know my reputation for war。
DICK。
GIBRALTAR。
February 14th； 1893。 DEAR MOTHER：
The luck of the British Army which I am modestly fond of comparing with my own took a vacation yesterday as soon as I had set foot on land。 In the first place Egypt had settled down to her sluggish Nile like calm and cholera had quarantined the ship I wanted to take to Algiers； shutting off Algiers and what was more important Tunis。 The Governor was ill shutting off things I wanted and his adjutant was boorish and proud and haughty。 Then I determined to go to Spain but found I had arrived just one day too late for the last of the three days of the Mardi Gras and too early for bull fights。 Had I taken Saavedra's letters I should have gone to Madrid and met the Queen and other proud folks。 So on the whole I was blue。 But I have now determined to take a boat for Tangier at once where I have letters to the Duke de Tnas who is the Master of the Hounds there and a great sport and they say it is very amusing and exciting。 In a fortnight I shall go to Malta。 I called on Harry Cust's brother and told him who I was and he took me in and put me at the head of the table of young subalterns in grand uniforms and we had marmalade and cold beef and beer and I was happy to the verge of tears to hear English as she is spoke。 Then we went to a picnic and took tea in a smuggler's cave and all the foxterriers ran over the table cloth and the Captain spilt hot water over his white flannels and jumped around on one leg。 After which we played a handkerchief game sitting in a row and pelting the girls with a knotted handkerchief and then fighting for it During one of these scrimmages Mulvaney； two others and Learoyd came by and with eyes front and hands at their caps marched on with stolid countenances； but their officers were embarrassed。 It is hard to return a salute with your face in the sand and a stout American sitting on your neck and pulling your first lieutenant's leg。 I am now deeply engaged for dinners and dances and teas and rides and am feeling very cheerful again。 I am also very well thank you and have no illnesses of any sort。 You told me to be sure and put that in As you see； I have cut out half of my trip to avoid the cholera； so you need not worry about THAT。 To…day I am going over the ramparts as much as they will allow and to…morrow I go to Tangier where I expect to have some boar hunting。 I would suggest your getting The Evangelist in a week or two as Dr。 Field's letters cover all I have seen。 I do not tell you anything about the place because you will read that in the paper to the H。 W。 but I can assure you the girls are very pretty and being garrison girls are not as shy as those at home in England。 I am the first American they ever met they assure me every hour and we get on very well notwithstanding。
You can imagine what it is like when Spaniards； Moors and English Soldiers are all crowded into one long street with donkeys and geese and priests and smugglers and men in polo clothes and soldiers in football suits and sailors from the man…of…war。 Of course； the Rock is the best story of it all。 It is a fair green smiling hill not a fortress at all。 No more a fortress to look at than Fairmont Park water works； but the joke of it is that under every bush there is a gun and every gun is painted green and covered with hanging curtains of moss and every promenade is undermined and the bleakest face of the rock is tunnelled with rooms and halls。 Every night we are locked in and the soldiers carry the big iron keys clanking through the streets。 It is going to make interesting reading。 DICK。
GIBRALTAR。
DEAR MOTHER： February 23rd； 1893。
AEneas who 〃ran the round of so many chances〃 in this neighborhood was a stationary stay at home to what I have to do。 If I ever get away from the Rock I shall be a traveller of the greatest possible experience。
I came here intending to stay a week and to write my letter on Gib。 and on Tangier quietly and peacefully like a gentleman and then to go on to Malta。 I love this place and there is something to do and see every minute of the time but what happened was this： All the boats that ever left here stopped running； broke shafts； or went into quarantine or just sailed by； and unless I want to spend two weeks on the sea in order to have one at Malta； which is only a military station like this；