where the political pot boils rather more steadily than anywhere else in the world. . . . The real event of today has been the arrival of Dr. Beeson, of Chicago, with whom we traveled three weeks on the "Sonoma." I seem to have known him always; he is my dearest friend, and the meeting apparently pleased him as much as it did me. . . . In the celebration following my meeting with Dr. Beeson, we went down into the Grand barroom, where we found two bars, exactly alike, on opposite sides of a big room. An old maid known as Polly served us; a younger woman called 'Arriet presided at the bar across the room. Polly was very amiable, and talked to us about our trip; I suppose she has been a bartender ever since she was eighteen, and attractive, and that was a long time ago. It will surprise you to know that she reminded me of a school teacher; she was as well-behaved as a school teacher, and had a bossy way that is always associated in my mind with the school-room. The Doctor and I talked of going over to see the lady bartenders at the Empire, but Polly coaxed us out of the notion. Liquor is sold here almost entirely by women; the custom of barmaids is more general in New Zealand, I am told, than in England. . . . Every morning and evening I buy a newspaper. The news is mainly from London, or local; I have not seen a telegram from the United States. Which is not so surprising: you might read the American papers a long time without seeing a telegram from New Zealand. . . . Wellington has a fine street-car system; considerably better than St. Joseph, Mo., a city of about the same size. One line runs through a tunnel under a
