Penelopes Postscripts | Page 9

of their magpie chatter, but it was a proud
moment. Alone, unaided, a stranger in a strange land, I had gained the
attention of children while speaking in a foreign tongue. Oh, if I had
only left the door open that Salemina might have witnessed this
triumph! But hearing steps in the distance, I said hastily, "Asseyez-vous,
mes enfants, tout-de-suite!" My tone was so authoritative that they
obeyed instantly, and when the teacher entered it was as calm as the
millennium.
We rambled through the village for another hour, dined at a quaint little
inn, gave a last look at the monument, and left for Geneva at seven

o'clock in the pleasant September twilight. Arriving a trifle after ten,
somewhat weary in body and slightly anxious in mind, I followed
Salemina into the tiny cake-shop across the street from the station. She
returned the tumbler, and the man, who seemed to consider it an
unexpected courtesy, thanked us volubly. I held out my hand and
reminded him timidly of the one franc fifty centimes.
He inquired what I meant. I explained. He laughed scornfully. I
remonstrated. He asked me if I thought him an imbecile. I answered no,
and wished that I knew the French for several other terms nearer the
truth, but equally offensive. Then we retired, having done our part, as
good Americans, to swell the French revenues, and that was the end of
our day in Pestalozzi-town; not the end, however, of the lemonade
glass episode, which was always a favourite story in Salemina's
repertory

PENELOPE IN VENICE

This noble citie doth in a manner chalenge this at my hands, that I
should describe her also as well as the other cities I saw in my journey,
partly because she gave me most louing and kinde entertainment for the
sweetest time (I must needes confesse) that euer I spent in my life; and
partly for that she ministered vnto me more variety of remarkable and
delicious objects than mine eyes euer suruayed in any citie before, or
euer shall . . . the fairest Lady, yet the richest Paragon and Queene of
Christendome.
Coryat's Crudities: 1611
VENICE, May 12--HOTEL PAOLO ANAFESTO
I have always wished that I might have discovered Venice for myself.
In the midst of our mad acquisition and frenzied dissemination of
knowledge, these latter days, we miss how many fresh and exquisite
sensations! Had I a daughter, I should like to inform her mind on every

other possible point and keep her in absolute ignorance of Venice. Well
do I realize that it would be impracticable, although no more so, after
all, than Rousseau's plan of educating Emile, which certainly obtained a
wide hearing and considerable support in its time. No, tempting as it
would be, it would be difficult to carry out such a theory in these days
of logic and common sense, and in some moment of weakness I might
possibly succumb and tell her all about it, for fear that some stranger,
whom she might meet at a ball, would have the pleasure of doing it
first.
The next best woman-person in the world with whom to see Venice,
barring the lovely non-existent daughter, is Salemina.
It is our first visit, but, alas! we are, nevertheless, much better informed
than I could wish. Salemina's mind is particularly well furnished, but,
luckily she cannot always remember the point wished for at the precise
moment of need; so that, taking her all in all, she is nearly as agreeable
as if she were ignorant. Her knowledge never bulks heavily and
insistently in the foreground or middle- distance, like that of Miss Celia
Van Tyck, but remains as it should, in the haze of a melting and
delicious perspective. She has plenty of enthusiasms, too, and Miss
Van Tyck has none. Imagine our plight at being accidentally linked to
that encyclopaedic lady in Italy! She is an old acquaintance of
Salemina's and joined us in Florence, where she had been staying for a
month, waiting for her niece Kitty Schuyler,--Kitty Copley now,--who
is in Spain with her husband.
Miss Van Tyck would be endurable in Sheffield, Glasgow, Lyons,
Genoa, Kansas City, Pompeii, or Pittsburg, but she should never have
blighted Venice with her presence. She insisted, however, on
accompanying us, and I can only hope that the climate and associations
will have a relaxing effect on her habits of thought and speech. When
she was in Florence, she was so busy in "reading up" Verona and Padua
that she had no time for the Uffizi Gallery. In Verona and Padua she
was absorbed in Hare's "Venice," vaccinating herself, so to speak, with
information, that it might not steal upon, and infect her, unawares. If
there is anything that Miss Van abhors, it is knowing