place in Chicago, and at once labeled me as an American. The Anthony Hordern store is very large, but not half as big as the Marshall Field store. And it isn't half as fine. The Hordern store looks old-fashioned; the ceilings are low, and the place isn't very neat—I don't know exactly what the trouble is, but I was compelled to tell the floor-walker, a very polite man, that it wasn't in the Marshall Field class. . . . At sea, I become angry, and half the time won't take my bath, or shave, or dress for dinner, but when I am on land, I am good-natured, and thoroughly enjoy going about. It is a joy for me to poke around a strange town. On our return to Sydney we employed the same boy who showed us about on our first visit; we liked the little man, although we could not understand half he said. At the Anthony Hordern store today, we wanted to go up to the art department, but the elevator man could not understand my pronunciation of the word Art. The boy had heard the floor-walker recommend that we visit the Art department, so he pronounced the word Art, and the elevator man understood him. . . . The floor-walker wanted to introduce me to young Anthony Hordern, but I asked to be excused. No doubt the son was like a sailor on the "Sonoma:" Captain Trask said he wasn't worth much except to play the part of "Neptune" when the ship crossed the line. . . . I am good-natured now, and intend to dress for dinner tonight, and drink coffee in the Winter Garden afterwards, but as soon as I go on board the "Anchises" at Adelaide, I expect to be mad again. The sea knocks me, and I can't help it. And it will knock you, if you fool with it, and have lived
