a century to learning everything that is to be
learned about war. It's a magnificent machine, smooth, powerful,
tremendous, unconquerable, and for that very reason neither you nor I,
John, will ever see a war of the first magnitude in Europe. It would be
too destructive. The nations would shrink back, appalled. Besides, the
tide is the other way. Re member all those ministers who came over
with us on the boat to attend the peace conference at Con stance."
John accepted readily all that Mr. Anson said, and the significance of
the Prussian, due he was sure to his own imagination, passed quickly
from his mind. But he was tired of pictures. He had found that he could
assimilate only a certain quantity, and after that all the rest, even be
they Raphael, Murillo and Rubens, became a mere blur.
"Let's go out and walk on the terraces over the river," he said.
"But many other famous pictures are here. We can't afford to go back
to America, and admit that we haven't seen some of the masterpieces of
the Dresden gallery."
John laughed.
"No, we can't," he said, "because if we do ignore a single one that's the
very one all our friends will tell us we should certainly have seen. But
my eyes are growing tired, there's a congestion in the back of my head,
and these polished floors have stiffened my ankles. Besides, we've
plenty of time, and we can come back as often as we wish."
"I suppose then that we must go," said Mr. Anson, reluctantly. "But one
should make the most of the opportunities for culture, vouchsafed to
him."
John made no reply. He had heard that note so often. Mr. Anson was
tremendous on "culture," and John thought it all right for him and
others like him, but he preferred his own methods for himself. He led
the way from the gallery and the older man fol lowed reluctantly.
The sun, having gone behind the clouds, stayed there and Dresden was
still gray, but John liked it best in its sober colors. Then the homely
touch, the friendly feeling in the air were stronger. These people were
much like his own. Many of them could have passed for Americans,
and they welcomed as brethren those who came from beyond the
Atlantic.
He looked from the Bruhl Terraces over the Elbe a fine river too he
thought it the galleries, the palaces, the opera house, the hotels, and all
the good gray city, beloved of English and Americans as well as
Germans.
"What is that buzzing and whirring, John?" asked Mr. Anson suddenly.
"Look up! Always look up, when you hear that sound, and you will see
the answer to your question written in the skies! There it goes! It's
passing over the portion of the city beyond the river."
The long black shape of the Zeppelin dirigible was outlined clearly, as
it moved off swiftly toward the southwest. It did not seem to diminish
in size, as it left the city, but hung huge and somber against the sky, its
whirr and buzz still audible.
"An interesting toy," said Mr. Anson.
"If a toy, it's certainly a gigantic one," said John.
"Tremendous in size, but a toy nevertheless."
"We're going up in it you know."
"Are you still bent upon that wild flight?"
"Why there's no danger. Herr Simmering, the proprietor of our hotel,
chartered a dirigible last week, and took up all the guests who were
willing to pay and go. I've talked to some of them and they say it was a
wonderful experience. You remember that he's chartered another for
next week, and you promised me we could go."
"Yes, I promised, but I thought at the time that something would surely
happen to prevent it."
"Indian promises! I won't let you back out now!"
William Anson sighed. His was a sober mind. He liked the solid earth
for his travels, and he would fain leave the air to others. The daring of
young John Scott, for whom he felt in a measure respon sible, often
alarmed him, but John concealed under his quiet face and manner an
immense fund of reso lution.
"Suppose we go to the hotel," Mr. Anson said. "The air is rather keen
and I'm growing hungry."
"First call in the dining-car," said John, "and I come."
"I notice that you're always eager for the table, although you shirk the
pictures and statues, now and then."
"It's merely the necessity of nature, Mr. Anson. The paint and marble
will do any time."
William Anson smiled. He liked his young com rade, all the more so
perhaps because they were so different. John supplied the daring and
adventurous spirit that he lacked, and the youth had enough for two.
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