Orient Express. Somewhere in Bulgaria on
the way to London.
April 14th, 1893.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
Tuesday I wrote you a letter in the club at
Constantinople telling you how glad I would be to get out of that
City on April 17th on the Orient Express which only leaves
twice a week on Thursdays and Mondays. So any one who travels
by the Orient is looked upon first as a millionaire and
second, if he does not break the journey at Vienna, as a
greater traveller than Col. Burnaby on his way to Khiva.
Imagine a Kansas City man breaking the journey to New York.
After I wrote you that letter I went in the next room and read
of the Nile Expedition in search of Gordon — this went through
three volumes of The Graphic and took some time, so that
when I had reached the picture which announced the death of
Gordon it was half past five and I had nothing more to do for
four days — It was raining and cold and muddy and so I just
made up my mind I would get up and get out and I jumped about
for one hour like a kangaroo and by seven I was on the Orient
with two Cook men to help me and had shaken my fist at the
last minaret light of that awful city. So, now it is all over
and it is done — I have learned a great deal in an imperfect
way of the juxtaposition of certain
countries and of the ease with which one can travel
without speaking any known languages and of the absolute
necessity for speaking one, French. I am still disappointed
about the articles but selfishly I have made a lot out of the
trip. You have no idea how hard it is not to tell about
strange things and yet you know people do not care half as
much for them as things they know all about — No matter, it is
done and with the exception of the last week it was F I N E.
"I'm going back to London, to `tea' and long frock coats
I'm done with Cook and seeing sights
I'm done with table d'hotes
So clear the track you signal man
From Sofia to Pless, I'm going straight for London
On the Orient Express.
I'm going straight for London
O'er Bulgaria's heavy sands
To Rotten Row and muffins, soles,
Chevalier and Brass Bands
Ho' get away you bullock man
You've heard the whistle blowed
There's a locomotive coming down the Grand Trunk Road."
This is a great country and I want to ask all the natives
if they know "Stenie" Bonsal. They are all his friends and so
are the "Balkans," and all the little Balkans. Nobody wears
European clothes here. They are all as foreign and native and
picturesque as they can be, the women with big silver Plates
over their stomachs and the men in sheepskin and tights and
the soldiers are grand. We have been passing all day between
snow covered mountains and between herds of cattle and red
roofed, mud villages
and long lakes of ice and snow — It is a beautiful day and I
am very happy. (Second day out) 15th — -We are now in Hungary
and just outside of Buda Pesth "the wickedest city in the
world," still in spite of that fact I am going on. I am very
glad I came this way — The peasants and soldiers are most
amusing and like German picture-papers with black letter
type — I shall stop a day in Paris now that I have four extra
days.
DICK.
