FORTY-FOURTH DAY

"Here," said Uncle Jack, as the children came in, “here's a letter from Grandpa," and he read:

DEAR CHILDREN,

Paris, France, September 28, 1914.

I am just about to leave Paris for Nuremberg, where I rejoin Grandma.

I have much to tell you. Perhaps the best way to do it, is to begin at the beginning.

You must know that on the steamer coming over, there was a very sweet little child who reminded me much of our May, though her name is Elizabeth.

Elizabeth and I grew very fond of each other, and I used to tell her fairy stories. She was always interested, and always when I finished she would say: "You, humbug — and I, humbug, too!"

Miss Edith M. Thomas, the poetess, was on board, and she, too, used to tell fairy stories to Elizabeth with the same result. So Miss Thomas wrote this poem about Elizabeth:

MISTRESS ELIZABETH

(Respectfully offered by a friend, aboard the steamship Mesaba.)

Mistress Elizabeth, most sweet

(A wind-blown blossom far at sea!)
Stands square upon her two small feet
Looks
s up, and speaks her mind to me,

With dimpling cheek and eyes of blue
"You, humbug — and I, humbug, too!"

“You, humbug — and I, humbug, too!"

Mistress Elizabeth, most sweet!
Upon this floating isle, the ship,

This one salute to all you meet,

Though fun, upon your baby lip,

Perhaps, perhaps it is but true,

"You, humbug — and I, humbug, too!"

Mistress Elizabeth, most sweet!

You flatter in your artless art:

For, if the sum of our deceit

Were only such as fills your heart,
Small penance would we need to do -
"You, humbug - and I, humbug, too!"
- Edith M. Thomas

While in London I did all the things a good American should do: visited the Tower, the Monument, Westminster Abbey, and St. Paul's Cathedral.

I went also to a concert, where nothing but real English songs were sung, excepting one encore, and that was a Welsh song.

Get

I enclose a copy of the English song that pleased me best, as well as a copy of the Welsh one. Uncle Jack to teach them to you.

You know of course, that Leonardo da Vinci's great painting, Monna Lisa, was stolen from the Louvre some time ago, and has since been found in Florence. I have just found a very good copy of it, which I am sending for May's birthday. I hope she will like this picture, and that some day she, too, will see the original.

I know that you must be having pleasant days with Uncle Jack, and I hope you will write to your Grandmother and me, telling us all about them.

Your loving

GRANDFATHER.