reading an English magazine. On the front cover was an advertisement of "Black and White" whisky. The magazine was about the size of our Ladies' Home Journal; imagine that fine publication with a whisky advertisement occupying two-thirds of the front cover page. . . . A passenger named Grice was telling this morning of an uncomfortable experience. He was riding after cattle on the plains of Australia, when his horse fell over an ant-hill. The horse broke its neck, and fell on the man in such a way as to pin him to the ground. After six or seven hours, help arrived. There was no surgeon in the district, and the man was carried to Melbourne, 180 miles. Here he was operated on seven times, and is just out of the hospital, where he spent eight months. He is on his way to Mombasa, in Africa, to hunt. When surgeons and hospitals are mentioned, I find that the Mayos, of Rochester, Minnesota, are known everywhere. . . . I have heard that some men, when they return from a long trip abroad, are very conceited about it, and talk too much of their experiences. In case I am so fortunate as to return from this trip, I shall be very modest, and greatly admire those who had sense enough to remain at home. How I admire Uncle Bruce, of Potato Hill farm, who has nothing to do this winter except haul manure from town for his next year's crop! What good things he has to eat down at the farm-house! And what an appetite he has! I wish I could change places with him. For dinner today we had venison and pheasant, but they tasted like leather. Game kept a long time isn't fit to eat. . . . Last night there was a dance on deck, and members of the Sports Committee were indignant
