Part 9

TUESDAY, JANUARY 28.—We took a long street-car ride this morning, and paid sixteen cents for one journey which would have cost only five cents in an American city. But you can ride a short distance for two cents. The fare increases two cents per section. Whether our plan of five cents for a street-railway ride, long or short, is better or worse than this, I do not know. There are no transfers here; if you travel on three different lines, you pay three fares.... Every morning our waiter at the hotel brings us hot cakes, although we do not order them. We discovered the reason today: on the bill of fare they are called “hot cakes, American style.” It is the waiter’s way of announcing that he knows we are Americans.... When you order soft-boiled eggs here, they are brought to you in the shell, and you eat them out of egg cups. This morning I asked the waiter to break mine in a glass, which he did, but he also put in pepper and salt, and stirred them up.... This has been a very chilly day, and the Wellington people are going about wearing overcoats and straw hats. A woman on the street-car informed us that today has been as cold as the weather ever gets here, at any season. At one of the beaches we saw the surf rolling in a very boisterous and menacing way, as the wind was blowing almost a gale. But flowers are in bloom, and vegetables growing in gardens. The vegetable gardens here are in the hands of Chinese, and are wonderfully neat; almost as wonderful as the gardens about Paris, where the gardeners remove the original dirt, and make a new soil.... We hear complaints everywhere of the labor unions. On a street-car today we engaged in conversation with an elderly woman who said she was born in Wellington, and who complained bitterly of the unions, which cause constant disturbances in all branches of business. This was surprising to me, in New Zealand, where we have heard everything is so amiable. I hear the same thing every time I talk with New Zealand people. “It is too much of a good thing,” they say. Possibly it is like our tariff: originally a good thing, it has been overdone, and all of us are now compelled to pay tribute in the shape of a heavy tax.... When we began talking with the woman, she said: “I take it that you are Americans.” We always hear that.... We have discovered that among its other attractions, the Grand Hotel has a roof garden. Even the Chicago doctor is surprised at the excellence of the hotel; and the price is only $3 a day each, including meals and rooms. We have concluded that the necessities of life, on an average, are about one-quarter cheaper here than in the United States. While there are no great tracts of farming land in the vicinity of Wellington or Auckland, near Christchurch, on the other island, there are said to be plains one hundred miles long. People here say that mutton is the one meat they never tire of; and mutton is very plentiful and very cheap.... The New Zealander who sits at our table is a very bold man, to hear him talk. I told him of my experience with snoring men, on the “Maheno,” and he says that under such circumstances he would have raised a row with the disturbers. But I think that possibly he is like many others I have known: a great talker, rather than a great hero. He tells an amusing story of a friend he once invited to his home for a visit of a fortnight. The friend turned out to have the loudest and most disagreeable snore ever heard in New Zealand, and no one in the house slept during the two weeks the visitor was there.... The tipping evil is not as great in New Zealand as it is in many places; the servants here have heard of the custom, but they do not mob travelers who fail to fee them satisfactorily.... The greatest need at present, in all parts of the world, is a library of books of simple information, simply written. Today I bought a book on Africa, by Sir H. H. Johnston. The introduction is interesting, but the remaining hundreds of pages contain a lot of technical information that no one wants. My impression is that Sir H. H. Johnston wrote the introduction, and the remaining pages were taken from old books on the subject. Cyclopedias are made in the same way. Some time ago I read the confession of a cyclopedia editor. He says such books are full of errors, because of the habit of copying, and that there is too little independent investigation. He relates that as an editor he once invented a man, a “noted clergyman,” and sent a “story” about him to the printers. The “story” passed the scrutiny of all the other editors, and was about to be made up into the pages of the cyclopedia, when the joker took it out. That is the way historical books are printed; they are too long, very dull, full of errors, written in a ponderous style that repels readers, and lacking in the simplicity and terseness necessary for the understanding of the average reader. There are several “libraries” of “universal knowledge,” and not one of them is half as good, as useful or as entertaining as it could have been made. The lack in all these books is simplicity; the professors write in fear of the criticism of other professors, and not for busy people. In this book on Africa, about all I found of interest was a statement that the Australoid type of man is almost certainly the parent of the white man in Europe and Asia. The Australoid, represented at present by the indigenous population of Australia (a chocolate-colored people, rather than black) comes nearest of all living men to the basal stock of our race, and behind him lies a long vista of semi-humanity till apehood is reached. This was a new statement to me.... The human genus was evolved somewhere in Asia, most probably in India, according to the best authority. This was a long time ago; human remains at least five hundred thousand years old have been found in the Rhine basin near Heidelberg, and it is believed the race is much older in Asia. But the original man was a black man, or a yellow man; the white man originated much later, and, according to Sir H. H. Johnston, he originated in Australia. So I am visiting the home of my remote ancestors. While man is very old, he ceased only twenty-five or thirty thousand years ago—this is only a guess of scientists, but the best information we have—to live in an absolutely savage condition as a mere hunter of other animals. The present civilized man gradually developed from a start made probably thirty thousand years ago. It was the white man who made this start toward civilization, and he originated in Australia, if Sir H. H. Johnston knows what he is talking about. The white man has always been an adventurer, and, in the course of ages, spread over the earth.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 29.—The New Zealander who sits at our table, and who lived awhile at Lancaster, Pa., said at breakfast this morning:

“The people of the United States are the smartest in the world. No doubt about it. In everything worthy and desirable, they are ahead of any other people.”

This man was born in England, and lived in London many years, but is lately living in New Zealand. He believes the “Pennsylvania Dutch” he knew at Lancaster to be the best type of people he ever knew, and regrets that all the people of the United States are not more like them.... This gentleman also showed us how the English and Scotch eat oatmeal porridge. They salt it, but never use sugar. In the left hand they hold a cup of milk, and into this they dip a spoonful of porridge before eating it.... It seems there was a blizzard yesterday; the thermometer got down to fifty-six above. But we went about in our usual summer clothing, and did not know it was a blizzard until this morning’s papers appeared.... In the botanical garden, this morning, I believe I saw the finest display of flowers I have ever seen. You hear much of the famous gardens of Japan, but I have never seen a Japanese garden as beautiful as that I saw this morning. The Japanese gardens are grotesque rather than beautiful. On the way back to town we visited a big department store, and remained an hour, watching the crowds. Doctor Beeson and I followed Adelaide around among the crowds of women, and enjoyed the experience. There was a special sale on, and postal cards had been reduced to a cent each. The store was a big one, but not nearly so large as the big ones in Kansas City. All the clerks were girls, and it was about the usual thing in special sales, except that prices were in pounds, shillings and pence.... In the public places here, we see this sign very frequently: “Citizens, protect your own property.” That is, everything belongs to the people, therefore why destroy anything? Some people are natural vandals, but people of a little culture and refinement never are.... In New Zealand, a woman has no interest in her husband’s real-estate. If a man desires to transfer a piece of real property here, his wife’s signature to the deed is not necessary, as is the case in the United States. Still women have full suffrage in New Zealand.... Not only the talk is unintelligible here at times, but I see advertisements in the English newspapers I can’t understand. Here is an exact copy of an advertisement in the Wellington _Post_ of this date:

WANTED—A General. Apply Mrs. Focke, 210 The Terrace.

If you know what Mrs. Focke wants, you know more than I do. Here is another advertisement from the same newspaper:

FOR SALE—Butchery business; going concern; average weekly killing, 6 bodies and 30 small. Victor E. Smith, Box 59, Fielding.

I haven’t the remotest notion what the advertisement means.... The newspapers here, of course, have taken after the street-railway company. They demand a universal fare of two cents, instead of two cents a section. It seems impossible to run a newspaper anywhere without abusing the street-railway. One correspondent of _The Post_ says the street-car company is entitled to take in only enough to pay actual running expenses, as the increasing value of the property is profit enough.... At luncheon today, our waiter at the Grand Hotel brought me an extra dish. “American pork and beans,” he announced triumphantly. They never let me forget for a moment that I am an American, or that they have caught me at it.... The dry-goods men here are as big talkers as they are anywhere. In _The Post_ of this afternoon, James Smith, Limited, offers a special sale in summer goods. Here is one price he quotes:

“Ladies’ one-piece washing frocks, in various colors, good value at 18_s._ 6_d._; carry your choice away tomorrow at 5_s._ 11_d._”

It seems that any sane woman would know that an article now offered at 5_s._ 11_d._ (or $1.42) was never good value at 18_s._ 6_d._ (or $4.62). If James Smith ever sold an article at $4.62 and has now cut it to $1.42, he is a robber, and no woman should patronize him. Yet his store will be crowded with women tomorrow, and many of them will buy dry goods they do not need, at prices that afford James Smith, Limited, a fair profit. The manner in which smart merchants fool the women with special sales should receive attention at the next meeting of Congress.... Bob Fitzsimmons, the prizefighter, came from New Zealand, and I think he is rather more popular at home than Melba is in Australia, where she was born. Indeed, I have heard Melba “picked at” a good deal, while Fitz is generally pointed to with pride.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 30.—A hair-cut and shave at the best shop in Wellington costs twenty-four cents. If a man buys a ticket, and pays in advance, for $1.50 he can get a shave every morning for a month, and one hair-cut.... On my way to the barber’s this morning I saw this sign: “Mrs. Jew, private hotel.” Here is another sign I saw: “Jerusalem & Son, jewelers and New Zealand green-stone merchants.” While waiting in the barber shop I saw this advertisement in a newspaper: “Wanted—A Rabbiter; also a saw doctor. Apply to F. P. Welch, Masterton.”... My friend who lived for a time in Lancaster, Pa., and who so greatly admires the “Pennsylvania Dutch,” told of a funny experience this morning. When he first landed in the United States he went into a barber shop, to be shaved. The barber asked him if he wanted a shampoo. The New Zealander, thinking that this was merely a politeness, said he did. Then the barber asked him if he would have a face massage, and the New Zealander accepted that offer, as well as several others, all the while thinking of the politeness of the American barbers. Finally, when the barber presented his bill for $2.90, there was a row, and the New Zealander denounced us all as robbers.... This New Zealander, whom I shall call Mr. A., was very indignant when I told him about the snoring man on the ship, and has been telling ever since what should be done to a man who travels about to disturb his fellow-men. “A man who snores,” said Mr. A., “should remain at home.” Mr. A. is a nervous man himself, and believes that a snoring man should in some way be prohibited. I noticed that Dr. Beeson, my friend from Chicago, did not fully accept Mr. A.’s opinion, and, when we are alone, the Doctor is disposed to rake Mr. A. over the coals. This has convinced me that the Doctor is a snoring man, so at nearly every meal I induce Mr. A. to abuse the man who is so impolite as to go to bed in a room with two others and snore all night. The Doctor and Mr. A. were at first quite friendly, but lately they quarrel most of the time. “That man,” the Doctor said to me today, and referring to Mr. A., “is getting on my nerves.” The Doctor frequently comes up to my room to smoke a cigar, and sometimes I send out for a second cigar, that I may enjoy the aroma of the tobacco, but this is the only weak thing I do, so far as my resolution to quit tobacco is concerned. I no longer temporize; I do not chew toothpicks, or gum, or plug tobacco; I have quit off short, and find it easier. If you are trying to quit tobacco, quit entirely, and do not aggravate yourself with cardamon seed, cloves, no-tobac, or anything else.... I am going away tomorrow, but Mr. A. and the Doctor will remain another week, and after I am gone, and no longer able to keep them apart, I expect them to have a fight, about snoring.... The Doctor is going home by way of South America direct, and will round Cape Horn. He said last evening, while smoking in my room: “Well, I now have absolutely nothing to do for forty-eight days, except to send one cablegram at Buenos Aires.” His statement was a very good illustration of the idleness of travelers. He does not like traveling by sea, but says it does him good, although he does not observe the good effect until he has been at home some time. He will be nineteen days at sea, without sight of land; an experience I will have between Australia and South Africa.... An Englishman I met here today was laughing at Americans because they call one horse a “team.” He was also amused because Americans eat pie in the middle of a meal. That is the way many of the stories about Americans originate: they are made up. I have lived in America considerably more than half a century, and never knew anyone to refer to one horse as a “team,” or eat pie in the middle of a meal.... There is a young man staying at this hotel who doesn’t seem to know much. “I don’t believe,” said Mr. A. today, “that he is a full shilling.” Meaning, “I don’t believe he has good sense.” This young fellow is a “remittance man;” he has a rich father in England, and receives a remittance every month—he is kept in New Zealand in the hope that he will get killed, or drink himself to death.... The officers of small ships, since the big “Titanic” went down, frequently ask travelers: “Well, are you satisfied now that a big ship can sink?” Sailors, like other men, are jealous.... A traveling Englishman is never satisfied unless he shows his pajamas all over a ship or hotel. This morning, at 7:20, I left my room to go down on the street for a walk before breakfast. In the hall I found an Englishman, dressed in pajamas only, quietly drinking tea from a tray held by a maid.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 31.—At 4:20 this afternoon we left the Grand Hotel, and went on board the “Maunganui,” advertised to sail for Sydney at 5. The Chicago doctor went with us, and said he should be very lonesome after our departure. He says he intends to amuse himself by trimming up Mr. A., the gentleman who lived awhile at Lancaster, Pa. This gentleman has very positive notions about everything, particularly about Americans, and the Doctor says he intends to talk the Chicago language to him after we go. “I didn’t like to say anything rough while Miss Adelaide was at the table,” the Doctor said, “but I’ll be mad anyway, because of your going, and he’ll hear from me.” In addition to his liberal notions about punishing men who snore, Mr. A. “makes up” stories about Americans. He says, for example, that when he was in Chicago, the hotel bell-boy who guided him to his room took hold of his coat, looked at it critically, and said: “What funny clothes you Englishmen wear.” The Doctor is certain no such thing ever happened, at Chicago or elsewhere, and proposes to say so to the hero of the incident.... The “Maunganui” is a large ship, nearly new, but instead of two men in my room I found three. The ship has two parlors, very large and fine, the floors covered with Turkish rugs, but its staterooms are very small, and most of them are provided with four beds; and extra beds are made in the dining-room. There are twice as many passengers on the ship as there should be; there are almost as many at the second sitting in the dining-saloon as at the first.... Very much to our surprise, Mr. A. came down to see us off, and, on hearing that I was to occupy a room with three others, said he wouldn’t stand it; that there was a way of avoiding such disagreeable things, and that he always found it. The Doctor nudged me, and, when the row starts, this big talk will probably come up, also. Mr. A. says he has already spoken to the head waiter at the Grand, and given him notice that our places at his table must be taken by pleasant people.... Owing to an extra amount of freight, the ship did not get away until 7 o’clock; the Doctor and Mr. A. left at 6, and, the last we saw of them, they seemed to be getting along amicably.... We finished dinner in time to go on deck and see the ship leave the harbor. A heavy wind had been blowing several days, and we expected bad weather outside, but in this we were disappointed; the sea was as calm as I have ever seen it, and we walked the decks until ten o’clock. Adelaide is not so lucky this trip, and has three women in her room.... The piano-playing began within an hour after dinner, and most of the players were young men. There are more amateur musicians in this section, probably, than in any other part of the world.... Two of the passengers, young Englishmen, are wearing smoking-jackets with their initials embroidered on the left arm. It is an entirely new idea, and it does not seem improbable that other Englishmen will adopt it.... Travel between New Zealand and Australia is enormous. The boats of the Union Steamship Co. are always crowded. And, in saying your prayers at night, ask for a special curse on the Union Steamship Co., as well as on the Standard Oil Co., and the Eastman Kodak Co. It is a monopoly, and does just as it pleases; and it pleases to put four men in a room nine by ten feet, which I regard as a greater outrage than that Decoration day, or Arbor day, or Flag day, are not more generally observed.