Daniel McGinley, who lived in both Saukville and Cedarburg, was appointed as consul in Athens, Greece by President McKinley December 17, 1897. According to his obituary, he traveled for a few months each year through European countries for the benefit of his health. The following series of articles was printed in The Cedarburg News October and November, 1904 and entitled, "A Summer Jaunt".

July 2nd last we, Eddie and I left Athens, Greece, for a vacation tour of sixty days in a cooler clime. The weather was intensely hot, and I was quite ill from the effects of the heat and too much office work the ride by mail to Patras, for a voyage up the Adriatic Sea to Venice. The next morning we reached Corfu, and at daybreak on the ìGlorious Fourth:î we entered the harbor at Brindisi, Italy, where we remained in the terrible heat until 11 P.M. Of all the cities in southern Europe, Brindisi is the most uninviting, uninteresting and the worst place in which to spend a day, and as we were the only Americans on bord we passed a very dull Independence Day.

From Brindisi our voyage lay along the coast of Italy. On the 5th we were at Bari, a large town which had a very prosperous appearance for an Italian city, six hours; and the next day spent eight hours in the harbor of Ancona. This is an old, dirty city picturesquely built on the side and summit of a high, rocky bluff, the only elevation to break the monotony of the low level coast.

The Adriatic is usually a blustering erratic, treacherous sheet of water the change on its surface being frequent, and extreme at times; but on this occasion we were fortunate enough to be a day too late for a storm off Ancona, and had fair weather during the entire voyage. But we ran into the dead swell left by the storm, and many of the ladies had to remain in their state-rooms for hours.

About 4 P.M. on the 7th we sighted the spires of Venice rising from the sea, and in an hour were in the lagoon but the channel was so shallow and torturous that it was 9 o'clock when we tied up to a dock near the railroad depot. Dropping our baggage and ourselves into a gondola, we glided through he canals of the former Queen of the Adriatic to the famed Square of St. Marks, where we went to the hotel we had lodged at four years previous, and were given our old room with windows looking out on the Square and the beautiful Cathedral of St. Marks.

In our first glance over the Square we noted the vacancy made by the fall of the Campanile in July 1902. As the reading world knows, the Campanile was the square bell tower of the cathedral standing some 200 ft. from its left front and close to the corner of the Royal Palace which forms the south side of the square. The tower was 322 ft. in height; was begun in 888 and rebuilt in 1417. With the intention of rebuilding the Campanile on the old site, workmen are busy laying the foundation, but are doing the work at a snail's pace as compared with the modern manner of doing such work in progressive countries. Instead of having any of the modern pile driving machines, they are using two or three antiquated hand machines in driving the many piles up to which the great tower is expected to stand for centuries to come, a dozen or more men being required to operate each machine. They told us the hand machine was used in order to give employment to as many men as possible. If that rule is followed it will take many years to rebuild the Campanile.

The subterranean disturbance that overthrew the Campanile also shook places on the north and south sides of the square and they are now so propped and shored up by heavy timbers, awaiting new foundations, that they have the appearance of having been badly shaken by an earthquake. Happily the grand old cathedral and the beautiful Palace of the Doges show no sign of weakness in their foundations; and the great clock tower fronting the square keeps at its ceaseless work undisturbed, its dials pointing out the hours and minutes, the phases of the moon, etc. The Madonna sits in her niche further up the tower and receives the trumpeting angel and the three wise man of the East on certain feast days, while on the roof the two bronze giants thunder out the hours on the big bell which hangs between them.

That Venice is decaying, and that subterranean disturbances overthrew the Campanile and shook the foundations of some of the buildings near it is self-evident; but whether the proud Queen of t former days is gradually sinking and will eventually disappear beneath the waves of the sea, as some people claim, is still an open questions. But had I a choice in the matter, I would prefer a house on the mainland to any in this once beautiful city in the sea. I say ìonceî beautiful. there is still much beauty to admire in its old palaces and churches, and in St. Mark's square; but as a whole the city of Venice requires a serious stretch of imagination to make it appear beautiful. Its uniqueness is extreme, and is often mistaken for beauty. Time and elements have blackened the white marble and removed a great deal of the beauty as well as the magnificence of the old time gem of the seas. As a late magazine article says: ìIt is only at night, when a flood of moon-light sweeps away her grime and ugliness, whitens her marble, and transforms to trails of silver the muddy green of her canals, that the ghost of her magnificence rises form the sea and she is again Venice the pearl of the Adriatic.î

But Venice is very hot, and the next morning we were seated in a fast train sweeping across the long stone bridge of 222 arches that connects the city with the mainland, starting on all eleven hour's ride to Munich, over the Brenner Pass. It was hot in Venice, but is still hotter on the mainland, and it is with satisfaction that we note that our train makes few stops and fast time. We passed over the same route with a deviation to see Lake di Garda, in 1900, and the scenes are familiar. We pause a few minutes at old Padua and at Vicenza, and soon find ourselves at Verona, where we eat a hasty lunch and change cars, boarding the fast train for Munich. In addition to our first class tickets we had to pay 17 francs ($3.28) each for seats on this train, and were shown into a compartment for two in a sleeping car, which was the oddest, most uncomfortable little stall we had ever seen in a car; and we could not imagine how they arranged beds or slept in it.

The heat was intense in the southern foothills, and as far as the summit of the pass, in the Alps. There we met a cool, refreshing air that was a great relief, and which accompanied us during the remainder of our day's journey. At Munich we found the weather cool and pleasant, and remaining there several days I gained in strength rapidly. Munich always reminds me of Milwaukee, for besides great beer breweries it has many places and scenes similar to the Cream City. We greatly enjoyed her music and places of interest, of which the great beer halls are not the least.

We spent three days at Tegernsee, one of the resorts in the Bavarian highlands south of Munich visited by us in 1900. We found the town had grown and improved greatly in the intervening four years. It is built on the shore of a beautiful lake, and at the foot and on the lower slope of a timber-covered mountain that furnishes exhaustless supply of good spring water. The inhabitants number over 5000, and entertain more than twice that number of visitors in the warm season each year.

While there we witnessed how a fire brigade of a Bavarian village fights fires. We lodged in a two-story stone hotel, near the center of the town, which was well filled with summer boarders. One night I happened to wake about 2 A.M., and seeing a bright light shining in at one of my windows, and hearing the crackling of a fire, I rushed to the window and saw flames mounting up one side of a frame icehouse in which was stored the beer and fresh meat belonging to the hotel, and which was about 100 ft from the hotel and 50 from the stables. I looked in vain for any person outside; the night was cold and calm, and the only sound heard was the noise made by the fire. Going to the next room I called Eddie. He ran into the main hall and shouted ìfire!î and in less time than it takes to write it, the hall was filled with panic stricken boarders, most of whom were women of every size and girth, and clad only in their night robes.

On dressing and going out to the fire we found some of the servants and a few villagers on the scene and soon a half a dozen church bells were ringing the alarm, but no one offered to fight the fire or protect the other property that was in danger. They told us that the fire brigade would soon be there and attend to all that. On account of the building being well filled with ice it burned very slowly, and there was no wind to carry its sparks to the manure pile and stables near by, and it was fortunate for our landlord that such were the conditions as it was fully half an hour before the fire brigade marched up to the hotel drawing their apparatus. They had waited to don their uniforms, steel helmets, big belts, gloves and all. The chief wore a pair of white gloves, and he took care not to soil them.

The engine was a hand machine of a very heavy pattern; but they had plenty of hose. Having reached the scene of the fire, the sturdy firemen still took things cool and easy. The chief ordered four lines of hose to be laid from the engine to the engine to the fire, and they were all laid with the wrong ends towards the engine. Then the chief got angry, talked loudly and sharply, flustering the men so that in changing or reversing the four lines of hose they got them badly twisted and tangled. Then the chief yelled in disgust. Finally two streams of water were turned upon the fire, when it had completely enveloped the building; but the men who were holding the nozzles of the other two lines of hose, in very hot places, waited in vain for water, and when there was danger of scorching their uniforms they fled. Near daybreak the fire was completely extinguished, after it had melted most of the ice and roasted part of the meat. Then, after picking up their hose, the firemen helped themselves to the beer and roasted beef very liberally. There were few angrier men in Europe that morning than our landlord; but he dare not make any loud complaints. Oh! no; people cannot swear and abuse firemen in Germany as they do in Wisconsin.

We were invited to attend an annual examination in the village school, a graded one. The school building was a new one, well built and finished, but lacking the good furniture and most of the modern improvements, conveniences and helps with which towns of that size supply their schools in our portion of the globe. The furniture consisted of a plain desk or table and chair for the teacher, the old-fashioned, long wooden desks and benches for the pupils, two or three miserable and small wooden blackboards, very poor outline maps, charts and very poor cuts of animals, a small organ or piano, and perhaps some other articles. The school yard is very small and partly covered with grass showing that it is not used much by pupils. When we saw the pupils we did not wonder that they did not play much in the school yard, for nearly all showed that they had to work very hard at home, and had little time for play when out of the school-room.

The poor people of Bavaria are honest and industrious, and have to work very hard for their livelihood. They are sturdy, kindly, intelligent people, that are very pleasant to meet, and no one can be many days among them without having been bettered by the experience. No high walls or iron fences are required to prevent one neighbor from appropriating the personal property of another, as in the case in some of the countries south of them; and their hearty greetings such as their passing salute of ìGrace Gott!î (the grace of God to you), given in a genial manner to every one, including the stranger, show the simple, honest, brotherly life they lead.

The examination was closely watched by a government inspector dressed in a fine blue uniform ornamented by large silver buttons. He wore spotless white gloves, and never removed them while in the room; and the children seemed to regard him with awe and fear. The examination included all the branches taught, and occupied three or four days. From the forms and books containing reports carried away by the inspector it was evident that the examination was quite thorough, and that reports of it went to headquarters. Of course these German pupils excelled in singing and the principal proudly gave us samples of what one of his classes could do in that line. They were surprisingly excellent, some of the little soloists being especially clever and well trained. The examinations were partly oral and partly written and were conducted in a manner very similar to some I had witnessed in Wisconsin; and scenes of hard labor in these faraway schools came floating to my memory and crowded for a time the present and its interesting realities.

D. E. McGinley

From D. E. McGinley, U.S. Consul, Greece

Spending another day in Munich, we turned our faces northward and a ride by train of three hours, via Weissenberg-am-sand and Schwabach brings us to old Nuremberg (German Nuernberg), a town of 30,000 inhabitants. Nuremberg retains much of its mediaeval appearance; its old buildings with the oddest of gables; its old fortifications built in the middle ages consisting of a rampart with round and square towers, and a moat about 150 ft. wide and 30 deep, now dry; and the narrow and crooked streets make it very interesting to the traveler. But Nuremberg is now a prosperous city; it is a prominent railroad center, the many trains pausing in its large passenger station carrying thousands of tourists, many of whom stop off to view the old town and leave a goodly share of cash there; and its museums, churches and other public buildings show that money is not over scarce in the old tow.

But at Nuremberg we met the intensely hot wave that was then sweeping over Europe, and although the town is quite high above the sea level we found it too hot for us, and the next afternoon a ride of five hours through some of the richest plains in Germany, landed us at Frankfort on the Main. Frankfort has about the same population as Nuremberg, but is a more modern town in appearance. It lies in a rich plain on the right bank of the Main, and is one of the most important commercial centers in the Empire. A portion of the oldest part of the city has narrow and uninteresting streets; but the new portions have many fine new business and residence streets lined with handsome edifices, and bearing an air of wealth and importance. Here we struck a hotel with no regular prices, something very unusual in Germany, and the manager wanted to make the Americans pay an exorbitant price for rooms, but they kicked, and he came down fifty per cent. The hotel has a costly ìAmerican Bar,î the prices of which put the high prices of Milwaukee's tony bars in the shade.

It was also very warm in Frankfort and the next afternoon we ran up to Mayence (German Mainz) on the Rhine, a half hour's ride through a beautiful country, crossing the broad Rhine, which was filled with steamers and freight barges, on a grand iron bridge, and running through a tunnel under some of the massive fortifications with which the city is surrounded, before we reached the station. Mayence is a prosperous city of 85,000 inhabitants situated on the left bank of the Rhine, opposite and a little below the influx of the Main. Part of the town has an almost mediaeval appearance, the streets being narrow and winding, and most of the buildings carrying the grime of ages, but it has new parts which are quite attractive. It is one of the centers for the trade in Rhine wines, and manufactures large quantities of them. It is also the head of the pleasure steamer navigation of the Rhine, the steamers making daily trips between the city and Cologne, which is the foot or lower end of this traffic, the run down by fast steamers occupying about ten hours, and the return trip twelve hours. The river runs through level, uninteresting banks above Mayence and below Cologne.

The heat was as intense in Mayence as in either Frankfort or Nuremberg, and the next day, after riding over the town pretty thoroughly, we boarded a steamer and ran down to Bingen, hoping to find a hotel there in an elevated position where we could rest untilt he hot wave had passed. It was Sunday afternoon, and our steamer stopping at many villages along the right bank, picked up many light-hearted Sunday excursionists, carrying them to places further down stream. While the decks were crowded with the happy people, our attention was attracted to a certain group of young Germans who were singing snatches of rag-time music, and presently one of them began to sing ìA hot time in the old town,î to the amusement of the crowd, most of them who could not understand the words. We later learned that the singer was a Chicago merchants there on a visit to his relatives and friends.

We found a hotel at Bingen charmingly situated on a hill about 500 ft. above the Rhine, where the air came too late to save me from being prostrated from the effects of the heat of the last three days, and I was very ill for a few days.

The view from the town and broad terraces of our hotel, the ìRochusberg,î takes in one of the most enchanting scenes on this globe. Bingen, a town of 10,000 inhabitants, the Bingerbruck a place not less than 2000, separated by the river Nahe which flows into the Rhine there, the first named a Hessian and the last a Prussian town, lie on the left bank of the Rhine about a mile down stream. Nearly a mile up stream, on the right bank is the small town of Rudesheim famous for its well-known brands of wine. Above Rudesheim the Rhine is a large island-dotted expanse of water flowing through the rich and beautiful district of ìRheingauî which produces some of the most costly wines in the world. Between Rudesheim and Bingen the river rapidly narrows between the high hills, the slopes of whose sides become steeper until just below Bingen they drop almost precipitously to the water, and form a narrow channel through which the great river rushes around a sharp bend to the right, in foaming rapids. At the head of those rapids in the left center of the river and opposite the mouth of the Nahe is the rock on which stands the famous ìMouse Tower,î which is now, legends to the contrary notwithstanding, used for the purpose for which it was erected many years ago; a signal tower. Although the channel through the rapids has been improved from time to time from the Roman period to the present, it is still narrow and safe for the passage of but two or three boats at a time, and it is the duty of the watch in the tower to use his signals to prevent the crowding of the channel, and to bring assistance to any boat in distress there. Opposite the Mouse Tower and half way up the terrace side of the burg are ruins of the castle ìEhrenfels;î and nearly opposite our hotel, and at the summit of the berg Rudesheim, stands the magnificent monument, ìDie Wacht am Rhein,î erected by the German government to commemorate the victory over France in the last war between these two old nations that have been for ages rivals for the Rhine. Around our hotel is a natural handsome park of hard-wood trees, covering about thirty acres and extending a short distance down the slope towards the river. The remainder of the land, outside the towns mentioned, is covered with vineyards now wearing their best emerald dress the steep slopes of the bergs on both sides of the river being a succession of terraces supported by solids walls of masonry from the river to their summit; and the whole scene combines to form a picture of loveliness seldom surpassed. It is truly one of earth's beauty spots.

After looking over the beautiful scene I did not wonder that Caroline Norten had chosen this modest little Rhine town as the home of her hero, the dying ìSoldier of the Legion,î in the beautiful and most pathetic ballad entitled ìBingen on the Rhine,î a poem long familiar to and loved by the readers of English in both hemispheres. Often in camp, bivouac and field during the dark days of our Civil war, the signing of that touching ballad brought tears to the heart, if not to the eyes of every listening soldier, each seeing a different picture hanging on memory's wall a picture of his own boyhood's home of his ìlovedî but ìdistant Bingen.î And later, when the victorious boys in blue ìcame marching home again with glad and gallant tread,î and I was one of many thousands in tha blue line who bore the sad message from a dead hero to his mother, that ìher other sons shall comfort her old age,î the pathetic lines of the old ballad often recurred to my memory - came back with a new, realistic (unreadable words) . . called, and still recall scenes of the most pathetic description, I have learned to love them and appreciate their beautiful sentiments all the more as the years roll by.

And as I wandered over ìthe vine-clad hills of Bingenî in those bright July days; ìsaw the blue Rhine sweep along-heard of seemed to hear, the German songs we (the hero and his sweetheart) used to sing, in chorus sweet clear;î walked ìdown many a path beloved of yoreî by the hero; and glanced in at latticed windows of quaint old cottages, any one of which may have been the home on the wall of which he hung his sword ìwhere the bright light used to shine,î I felt that I want in a strange land, but in scenes made familiar by the immortal ballad of ìBingen on the Rhine.î

Up on the slope of the berg back of Bingen stands a splendid group of new buildings forming an industrial school. Germany may build a powerful navy; erect great fortifications all along her border, and maintain a superb army; but her greatest and best bulwarks of defense are her good schools and colleges.

On July 26th we descended the Rhine by steamer from Bingen to Cologne, going over the famed portion of the river through the rocky highlands, and I confess that I was somewhat disappointed in the natural appearance of this storied and much lauded part of the Rhine. There are many beautiful scenes and majestic curves in the steam; and there are headlands, bergs, terraced slopes, rocky cliffs and precipices to admire; but we have rivers in America that have finer scenery of the same nature, which few take the trouble to visit. Man has done more to make the ìcastled Rhineî the attraction to its many thousands of tourists and travelers annually, than has nature.

From D. E. McGinley, U.S. Consul, Greece

The old castles with their romantic histories, traditions and legends are the chief attractions on the Rhine. But remove Ehrenfels, Reinstein, Clemens-Chappelle, Falkenburg, Sooneck, Heimberg, Nolich, Furstenberg Pfalz, Gutenfels, Schonburg, Katzenelbogen, Rheinfels, Thurnberg, Brothers Marksburg, Stoltzenfels, Hammerstein, Roland's Arch, and other well-known castles or ruins of castles, and there would still remain the old towns with their remains of medieaval walls and fortifications, their grand old churches, and their romantic and interesting histories and historic associations. And then there are modern towns, hamlets, castles, churches, chateaus, hotels, and fine residences. A rail-road runs along each bank, now on wall-buttressed tracks near the water, now in cuts along precipices, now over stone arched, or iron bridges or viaducts, and again through tunnels, its passenger trains numerous and well laden with human freight; while large furnaces, foundries, factories, and work-shops show how a large portion of the dense population earns a living.

As the banks of the Rhine swarm with life, so does its bosom, on which float hundreds of passenger steamers all well filled with enthusiastic tourists from all over the civilized portion of the globe, but principally from the United States. Leviathan tugs town strings of the large freight barges; rafts of timber from the Black Forest bound of places in Germany, Holland and Great Britain, float down with the current or are towed by tugs while small craft of various descriptions are very numerous, and as our steamer sweeps on around bend after bend we are never out of sight of other craft, or of a town or hamlet on the bank. The work and art of man has, though many ages, made the Rhine one of the best known and most attractive of all streams. Every bend, every point, every berg, and every valley along the river is crowded with historic associations. Probably no other stream on earth has been given more attention by writers of history and fiction; and probably none are visited by so many strangers. The journey down the Rhine was the most interesting of all our travels. Objects of interest are so plentiful on each bank that the sightseer has to keep constantly on the alert or he will miss many of them. Nearly every name of the towns, castles, and etc. have a familiar sound to the one who reads, and when he meets a name that is not familiar he quickly makes its acquaintance through the guide books, maps and charts with which most of the Rhine tourists are plentifully supplied. Many guide books, maps, and charts, are printed and distributed free by the hotel keepers along the Rhine, as advertisements.

Our steamer touched at all the large and many small towns on either bank, and it was interesting to watch the crowds that left or boarded the steamer at each landing, and note the nationalities of the individuals. I noticed that at all the small towns the majority of the people landing or boarding the steamer were Germans; but at the large cities our countrymen predominated in the human stream that passed up and down the gangplank.

Coblenz is the first large city on the Rhine below Mayence. It is a town of 45,000 inhabitants, and a large garrison, beautifully situated on the point of land formed by the confluence of Moselle and Rhine rivers. On the extreme point, at the junction of the tow rivers, stands the massive monument to Emperor William I said to be the largest and most impressive personal monument on the earth. The equestrian figure is 45 ft. in height, is accompanied by a Genius 30 ft. high bearing the laurel (unreadable words) Ö an immense architectural base in the form of an amphitheater that gives the whole a most striking and imposing effect. The figures face the meeting of the waters of the two rivers, and viewed from a steamer ascending the Rhine the monument has a most magnificent appearance.

Two grand iron bridges, one of them a railroad structure, and a bridge of boats span the Rhine at Coblenz. The iron bridges are high enough to allow steamers to pass beneath them, and a section or two of the bridge of boats steam out of the line and leaves a wie gap when a large craft desires to pass through. Coblenz manufactures large quanitities of wine, the sparkling Moselle wines being among the brands exported. It is said that Great Britain and her colonies consume most of the wine exported from Coblenz.

The first town of importance below Coblenz is the handsome university city of Bonn, situated at the left bank of the Rhine, and containing over 50,000 people. Here many of Germany's royal family are educated, and many foreign students are enrolled in her university. Bonn is also a favorite place of residence for many wealthy German and English families, and the handsome villas and their gardens on the river bank above the city, and the attractive and shaded promenades along the water front of the town, make a very pretty picture when viewed from the river. An imposing iron bridge crosses the Rhine here.

At Bonn the Rhine debouches from the highlands and quickly widens as it enters the level plain; the railroads desert the river banks and follow straighter routes for the balance of the distance to Cologne; and the low banks grow monotonous and uninteresting. Bonn also marks the lower end of the wine country on the Rhine, the level plain below it being then yellow with ripening cereals.

Cologne, the end of our river journey is a fine old city of 380,000 inhabitants, situated on the left bank of the Rhine and in the midst of a rich plain. It has a large garrison, it is well fortified, and is connected with the town of Deutz, on the east bank, by a great iron bridge and a bridge of boats. From a distance up the river the city with its numerous towers and spires presents an imposing appearance, its grand symmetrical cathedral towering above all, a landmark easily recognized. Most of the streets in the old part of the city are narrow and crooked, but many of them are interesting old buildings showing the architecture of the 13th, 14th, 15th, and 16th centuries, in which they were erected. In 1881 a new line of fortifications were adopted far outside the old line, the old fortifications were abandoned and razed, and now a new city, containing wide and handsome boulevards, completely encircles the old town. In the suberbs are beautiful parks, zoological gardens, botanical gardens, and pleasure resorts of different kinds. Cologne is a beer town, and there are some attractive beer gardens. The streets are well paved, and the whole town has a clean appearance.

Of course the chief attraction to the stranger is the magnificent cathedral which is considered to be the most beautiful Gothic edifice in the world. Even to the eye of the layman the architectural impressiveness and beauty of the imposing structure stands out clearly, and architects and artists go into raptures over it. It is certainly the handsomest cathedral I have seen. After seeing the Cologne cathedral, that of Milan looks actually shabby. In looking the Cologne cathedral over one is at a loss to decide which the interior or the exterior are the most beautiful. it was surely an apt expression that called it a 'poem in stone.î

Besides the cathedral Cologne boasts of a number of other fine church buildings, any of which is well worth going far to see; its Rathhaus (City Hall) is a fine old structure; its newest theater building is a splendid edifice, and its museums and their contents attract many thousand and hold their attraction for days at a time. But Cologne is so well known on the other side of the Atlantic, that I may be simply threshing over old straw in saying anything about it. The product that has made this city famous, ìCologneî perfume, is for sale and is widely advertised in all parts of the town. On July 28th we ascended the Rhine from Cologne to Bingen by steamer, thus seeing the castled portion of the river twice; and on the 30th went by rail to Heidelberg. The ride up the fertile ìRheingnauî plain to Mayence; thence south and up the Rhine valley, running almost parallel with that river, through a rich farming district, dotted with small towns and villages, each with busy factories or workshops, to Mannheim, and thence to Heidelberg was a very interesting and instructive one, a great deal of rural life and agricultural methods being seen enroute.

Heidelberg, the famed old university town picturesquely situated on the river Neckar at a point where that river enters the Rhine plain from the Odenwald highlands, and about three miles from the latter river, it is so well known to my readers that there is a little to write in regard to it. Will simply say that we found the weather so hot, and the hotel charges were exorbitant in the old town that we remained a scant twenty-four hours there; but in that time saw many of its attractions. While lunching at a popular restaurant we had an opportunity to see and study many of the professors and students of the university who flocked there, although it was during the vacation period the professors wearing their ribbon decorations, and the students red or blue caps, probably club caps. Many of them bore ugly scars on their faces, indicating that they had been the victims of the disgusting barbarous methods of dueling in vogue their. This custom of slashing the face so as to leave hideous scars, is on a parallel with the custom of some of the savages on the islands of the Pacific ocean. We noted that the wearers of the red caps did not deign to salute or notice wearers of the blue caps, and vice versa.

Leaving Heidelberg we had a delightful ride yup the Rhine valley, via Burchsal, Durlach, Carlsruhe; Ettinger, Rastatt, Baden, and Appenweier, to Strassburg. For many miles we ran along the foot of a wet grassy plain which showed the need of drainage, but as far as the eye could reach it appeared to be nearly a dead level with no fall or drainage. We did not enter Baden, but passed within two miles of it, and in its vicinity skirted along the edge of the famous Black Forest. We had hardly come in sight of Strassburg's cathedral, which looms above the town a distant landmark, when we reached the new line of fortifications that encircles this old and historic town. Crossing the Rhine on a substantial iron bridge, the train runs partly around the city, through parks and pretty summer resorts, before it enters the town and its large depot.

Strassburg, the capital of Alsace and German Lorraine, said to have been founded by the Celts before the coming of Christ, has had a most eventful history, and has often been a bone of contention between warring nations, being considered a place of great strategical importance. So important was it considered in ancient times that one of Rome's great emperors called it ìthe bulwark of the Roman Empire;î and it has always been a fortified stronghold. Many now living will remember the French garrison of Strassburg when besieged in 1870 by a German army, which captured the place after a struggle lasting forty days, during which there was heroic fighting and the town suffered dreadfully from the German shells. Nearly all traces of that siege have now disappeared; the old line of fortifications has been abandoned and nearly razed; and the Germans have encircled the city with two new lines, the outer consisting of about fifteen forts four to five miles from the town, and the inner of an rampart enclosing more than twice the area of the old city. Strassburg seems to be now quite prosperous, is a manufacturing town of considerable importance, and has greatly increased in size and more than doubled its population since the Germans took possession of it in 1870. It has now a population of 150,000 and a garrison of 15,000. Some of its inhabitants think that France will try to recover what she has lost in 1870-71 before many decades of time pass. It is too bad that these two great countries cannot live in peace indefinitely.

The old portion of the city is very interesting in different ways. Many of the old buildings date from the middle ages, their odd architecture being very attractive. There are also many new structures in that portion of the town, notable among which is a beautiful and costly Jewish synagogue. Two of the public squares in the old town deserves notice, the Kleber-Platz, in which stands a bronze statue of the famous General Kleber, who was a native of Strassburg; and the Gutenberg-Platz, in which is a fine monument to Gutenberg, inventor of printing. Wild storks nest and breed on the chimneys in the old town, making a very rare and interesting attraction. The people will not allow the storks to be disturbed, and they come and go and rear their broods undisturbed by the throngs in the streets.

From D. E. McGinley, U.S. Consul, Greece

The new portion of Stassburg has many wide and beautiful avenues lined with beautiful, costly residences, schools, seminaries, and etc.; attractive parks and gardens; and fine public buildings, among which are the Imperial Palace, Hall of the Provincial Diet, University buildings, and a handsome Protestant Soldier's Church.

As at Cologne and many other European cities, the grand old cathedral is the chief attraction for visitors to Strassburg. The building is not so architecturally beautiful as many other cathedrals in Europe, its architecture having become mixed during the 700 years it has been in course of construction; and it is still far from completion. but still its exterior is quite attractive. The front of the cathedral, built in gothic style of red sandstone, would be very imposing if finished, but one of its grand twin towers still lacks the open-work spire that completes the other.

The unfinished tower rises to the base of the spire, a distance of 216 ft.; the height of the finished tower and spire is 456 ft. making it one of the loftiest spires in Europe. During the siege of 1870 the French garrison had a signal station on the platform on the top of the unfinished tower, which attracted the fire of the German artillery, and a rain of shells fell on and around the cathedral during many days of the siege, piercing the towers, walls and organ, and burning off the whole roof. The end of the siege left the cathedral almost in ruins, but the work of restoration was begun soon after the German occupation, and now few marks of the siege are visible on the building. When it will be finished cannot be conjectured.

The chief attraction of this cathedral is the large and famous astronomical clock which stands in the south transept. This clock is so well known that it may be out of place to try to describe it here; but although I have seen pictures and read descriptions of it many long years, I never realized what a marvelous machine it was until I saw it and watched its movements. It is an attraction, and every day from 11:30 A. M. until noon that part of the cathedral is jammed with people from all lands, who patiently stand and watch the movements of the clock and its numerous figures until 12 o'clock has been struck.

Besides indicating the time of day, the clock shows a complete planetarium, a perpetual calendar, all the feast days of the church, all the eclipses of the sun and moon, all phases of the moon; and shows a celestial globe with the procession of the equinoxes, solar and lunary equations for the reduction of the mean geocentric ascension and declension of the sun and moon at true times and places. Figures of angels sit one on each side of the dial; the one on the left strikes the quarters on a bell, and the one on the right holds an hourglass and reverses it at the end of each hour. In a niche lower down the symbolic deity of each day of the week appears in a chariot drawn by a figure of horses. Above the dial and the planetarium, there is a niche in which stands a skeleton representing Death, and in the order named figures representing boyhood, youth, manhood and old age walk past Death and strikes the quarters on a bell. Death strikes the hours. In the highest niche, at noon, the twelve Apostles walk past a figure of our Saviour, which lifts its hand to bless each Apostle, and each bows as he passes. While the Apostles are passing a large figure of a cock, which stands on a side tower containing the weights, and the appearance, motions, and voice of which are perfect imitations of nature, crows thrice. The most (unreadable word) feature about this clock is that it is calculated to regulate itself and adapt its motions to the revolution of the season for an almost unlimited number of years. Fortunately the clock came through the siege of 1870 unharmed. It is now 62 years old.

We liked Strassburg so well that we left it with reluctance. We would have been pleased to remain there and in that vicinity, visiting Metz and other interesting places, but our time was limited, the weather rather warm for comfort, and we started for Switzerland, hoping to find there a cool, quiet place to rest in. A ride of less than three hours by rail, up the Rhine valley, via Schlettstadt, Colmar, Mulhausen, and St. Ludwig, brought us to Bazel (also called ìBaleî), Switzerland.

Basel founded in ancient days, a flourishing city of 110,000 inhabitants, is built on both banks of the Rhine, not far south of the German border. Although a city in Switzerland, its population is principally German, the Swabian German being the language of the majority. It is a manufacturing town of much importance, and its University and seminaries are widely known and attended by young people from both sides of the Atlantic.

The part of the town on the right bank stands on low ground, while that on the left bank occupies hills reaching the height of 65 ft. above the river, the current of which is very rapid there. From a terrace on the left bank one can look over the border and into the Black Forest of German, and into a corner of France. The leading objects of interest to the stranger in Bazel are its old cathedrals; its museums, its Historical Museum ranking with the best; its attractive picturesque Rathhaus (City Hall); its market places; its monument commemorating the heroism and death of 1300 Swiss who fell opposing the invaders under the Dauphin in 1444; and the Strassburg Monument, erected by a resident of that city in memory of the assistance rendered by the Swiss to the noncombatants of Strassburg during and after the dreadful siege of 1870.

Having seen Basel, we greatly enjoyed a two hours ride by rail to Lucerne 59 miles south of Basel. About five miles from Basel the railroad leaves the Rhine valley and enters the Jura Mountains, and the remainder of the ride is through very interesting and beautiful scenes of alpine mountains and fertile valleys and a few tunnels. Twelve miles north of Lucerne we passed the Lake of Sempach, on the shore of which is the scene of the battle of July 9, 1386 in which the Swiss Arnold von Winkelried ìmade way for t Liberty and died,î earning immortal fame and gratitude of his country. A monument was erected in 1886 to commemorate the victory made possible by Winkelried's sacrifice; and a large painting of the battle, depicting the sacrifice, hangs in a museum at Lucerne.

The City of Lucerne, population 30,000 is situated at the northern or lower end of Lake Lucerne, at the efflux of the river Ruess, the outlet of the lake. Situated in the heart of Switzerland, 1437 ft. above sea level within easy reach of the grandest scenery in the alps, surrounded by loft mountains, bold headlands, precipices and cliffs, wooded hills, snow-capped peaks, and eternal glaciers, the Lake of Lucerne is a most charming summer resort. It is 23 _ miles in length, over two miles wide at its widest part and about 900 yards at its narrowest. Its outlines are not unlike three links of a great sausage, with branches on either side of the northern link. A carriage road and the great St. Gothard railroad follows its eastern shore, often through tunnels and cuts in the sides of precipices. The city of Lucerne and some sixteen villages stand on the shore of the lake, and nearly every accessible sport on its shores are occupied by hotels, pensions, villas and Swiss cottages all of which harbor guests in the summer season. Hotels on six hills and mountains bordering the lake are reached by climbing tramways, all of which are cable or funicular railways, except the two up the Rigi (one from Lake Lucerne on the west, the other from Lake Jug on the east), and that up Mt. Pilatus, all of which are steam cogwheel or rack-and-pinion systems. Pilatus is the highest mountain on the shores of lake Lucerne, the summit rising nearly 7000 ft. above sea level. The railway up its sides is three miles long, and the car occupies one hour, and twenty-five minutes in making an ascent or descent of the line. Next in height to Pilatus, and the most popular, is Rigi 4470 ft. above the lake. As stated above, railways carry passengers to and from the summit. We ascended two of the lower mountains having funicular railways, and found the experience a little trying on the nerves during the first trip up and down, but like most of things a person becomes accustomed to it after repeated trips. We wished to make the ascent of Rigi, but its summit is so often in the clouds, obstructing the view, that we waited for a clear day, missed one or two, and filed to make the ascent.

Among the many interesting sights in the city of Lucerene are its well-preserved walls and watch towers, and two covered bridges crossing the Reuss, all dating from the middle ages; its quaint old cathedral, its ìinternational Museum of Peace and Warî; its famous ìLion of Lucerneî, a huge figure of a dying lion set in the perpendicular face of a rock (unreadable words) ,,, commemorate the heroism of nearly 800 of the Swiss guard who fell defending the Tuileries, in Paris, in 1792, and the ìGlacier Gardenî, in which is shown the surface of a rocky slope as worn by some ancient glacier, one of the most unique interesting and instructive natural exhibits ever seen.

On the lake is a large fleet of passenger steamers required to handle the crowds of strangers that visit the lake every summer. Some idea of the number of visitors may be indicated by the fact that it is estimated that there are accommodations for 100,000 in the hotels and pensions on the shores of the lake, and it was difficult to find an empty room during the two weeks we remained there; and part of this crowd remained but a few days, their places being taken by others who arrived daily. And as we were told that hundreds of visitors were unable to find rooms there, and were forced to pass on to other resorts. And this large number of visitors were mostly Americans, the minority being made up principally by Germans and English, with representatives from nearly every civilized country in Europe, Asia, and Africa.

We made a trip around the lake by steamer, and enjoyed it greatly. Landing at the village of Fluelen, at the head of the lake, we went by bus, four miles to Altdorf, a little town in the market place of which, tradition says, the heroic William Tell refused to salute the cap of the tyrant Gessler, and showed his skill as an archer by shooting an apple from his own son's head. It is an ideal Swiss village lying in a fertile valley which is nearly surrounded by lofty mountains. East of the village and almost overhanging it, is an almost precipitous mountain, and heavily wooded and called ìthe sacred groveî in which the use of an axe is prohibited, as the trees prevent great boulders from rolling down into the town. In a little marketplace, on the scene of the apple shooting exploit, stands a fine bronze statue of Tell and his boy; and nearby is a theater in which representatives of ìSchiller's Tellî are given by the villagers during the summer months, when all the town is full of tourists. Scores of sightseers visited the village the day we did. A short distance from Fluelen, on the shore of the Lake, a handsome chapel, known as the ìTell Chapelî stands on the edge of a rock upon which Tell sprang from Gessler's boat; about four miles from Altdorf is the mountain village of Burglen, said to have been the birthplace and home of Tell, a site of whose house is now occupied by another ìTell chapelî. History has no record of any such a man as William Tell, we were told, but in my own life's experience I have seen events that I personally witnessed so falsified by public histories, that I have lost faith in the accuracy of history in general, and am inclined to believe with the sturdy Swiss people, that William Tell did exist at the time and places claimed by traditions.

We remained at a hotel in the city of Lucerne six days, and then ran over to Zurich, a nice one hour's ride by rail via the shores of Lake of Zug, a pretty sheet of water eight and three-fourths by two and one-half miles in extent, and the Lake of Zurich, which is twenty-five miles long and on an average nearly two miles wide. With its fertile and gently sloping shores thickly dotted with villages, villas, hotels and farm buildings, the lake of Zurich resembles the Bavarian lakes. Like Lucerne the city of Zurich is situated at the efflux of and on both banks of the lake's outlet, the river Limmat, whose swift current furnishes good water power for a number manufacturies.

Zurich, numbering 160,000 inhabitants, is the largest, most modern in construction, and most important city in Switzerland. It is a manufacturing town, silk being the staple product, but its cotton mills, machine shops, and iron foundries are also important. It has many attractions for tourists; but as it lacks the mountains and coolness of Lucerne, being considerably lower, and quite far from the snow capped mountains, it is not visited by near as many strangers. We found the hotels quite full, however, and as the weather was rather warm, there we remained in Zurich but one day, visiting its excellent ìNational Museumî and other places of interest.

From D. E. McGinley, U.S. Consul, Greece

Returning to Lucerne we fortunately secured accommodations in the ìHotel Sonnenbergî situated on a berg nearly 1000 ft. above the lake, and in the midst of a beautiful natural park, with good spring water, excellent air, and a fine view of the Lake of Lucerne, the city, the wide valley or plain on the north, and the mountains. There we remained nine days, gaining in health and strength daily.

The milk and butter of Switzerland are among the very best; and her excellent pastures, immense number of annual visitors, and the custom of drinking milk so much in vogue there make dairying a very large and important industry. In Italy the people drink wine; in Bavaria, beer, in the Rhine towns from Mayence to Bonn, wine; in Cologne, Heidelbeerg, Strassberg and Basel, beer; but at Lucerne I noticed that about one-third preferred milk to either beer, wine or tea for an afternoon drink. so much milk is used at Lucerne that it is not delivered in tin cans, as in the United States, but in barrels. Each milkman has two to four barrels of milk standing on a low platform suspended between the wheels of his wagon and about a foot from the ground; and he dips out the milk with a long-handled measure that holds about a gallon. these milk barrels have less capacity than flour barrels, are not made of staves, but of bent wood, and resemble large cheese boxes.

On August 21st we had one of the most interesting and instructive rail-road rides of our lives, over the gret St. Gothard railroad, from Lucerne to Lake Lugana in southern Switzerland. Leaveing the city of Lucerne about 9 A.M., in the fast express, a vestibuled train of only first class coaches, with dining car attached, we ran along the shore of the Lake of Zug, until we rounded Mt. Rigi; thence across to the east shore of Lake Lucerne, which we followed in a succession of tunnels and cuts along the rocky precipices to Fluelen, at the head of the lake; thence up the pass, past the villages of Altdorf and Burglen previously mentioned, with towering snow-capped peaks on either hand, and into the heart of the grandest of Alpine scenery.

The portion of the St. Gothard line traveled by us that day is one of the engineering marvels of the age, and its mountain scenery can hardly be excelled. The line climbs seemingly impossible grades, glides over bridges and viaducts and along precipices at dizzy heights, following the course of the Reuss river, a mountain torrent which is a succession of foaming rapids and waterfalls. Where the grades are too steep to climb direct routes, and the defile is too narrow to admit of loops or winding curves on the surface, the line runs aside and curves off in a ìloopî tunnels which the desired height has been reached. On the north side of the St. Gothard pass three of the loop tunnels, and on the south side four. Besides the loops there are numerous other tunnels, including the great St. Gothard and in the 124 miles between Lucerne and Lugano we transversed over 30 miles of tunnels.

The St. Gothard tunnel is nine and one-fourth miles in length, 28 ft. broad, 21 ft. high, and is so well ventilated that the smoke is not near as troublesome as in many short tunnels. It pierces the mountain 3780 ft. above sea level. At the northern end of the tunnel stands Sochenen, a small town that is quite a summer resort in sight of a big glacier, and where it was cold enough to snow that August day we halted there a (unreadable words) Ö thorough the big bore in 14 minutes; the slow trains from 20 to 25 minutes passing through. Fortifications guard the south end of the tunnel, the grade down the side of the pass is even steeper than the other, and the grand mountain scenery continues all the way to Bellizona; which is at the north end of Lake Maggiore. Lake Maggiore with Lake Como, Lugana, and Di Garda are the four largest of the group of lakes in the southern foothills of the alps known to tourists as the ìItalian Lakes,î but part of the first three are in Switzerland and the north end of De Garda is in Austria.

The city of Lugano is but a short run from Bellizona, on one of the northern arms of Lake Lugano. Although in Switzerland, Lugano is an Italian city in build and population, and like all other lake towns in that portion of the glove, is a summer resort of considerable importance. I said it was a summer resort, but the weather is a little too warm for comfort there in July and August, and its ìseasonî is in September and October, as in the case of the other resorts on the ìItalian Lakes.î

The lake of Lugano is an old shaped affair with three or four arms stretching out among the hills and mountains like the arms of an octypus. The mountains around this lake are mostly wooded, but not with such healthy looking forests as cover the northern foothills of the Alps, and no berg rises to the height of 6000 ft. And the people in the hamlets on the shores of the lake have not the vigorous, prosperous appearance of those on the shores of the Lake of Lucerne. We remained at Lugano less than 24 hours, but in that time enjoyed a carriage ride around the town and environs, and a steamboat ride around the principal of the lake. St. Gothard line crosses the lake where it is less than a mile wide, on a stone viaduct in which there are three or four arches for the passage of boats, just high enough to clear the upper decks of the steamboats, which have their smokestacks so arranged that they can sink down or pull in like the links of a telescope, while passing under the viaduct. Of course while crossing the boundary between the two countries, or when nearing such a boundary, the traveler is sure to be interviewed by custom officers. Two Italian custom officers rode down from Lucerne on our train and examined and stamped the baggage of all who were about to cross the border into Italy. As they came into our car, from the rear, one of them asked a florid-faced Englishman: ìHave you any baggage?î ìBaggage? baggage? what's that? asked the Englishman. The officer replied ìLuggage; have you any luggage?î ìOhla-ah! now I understand, when you speak proper English,î rejoined the Englishman. It was an open car-not partitioned into compartments, and a few seats ahead of the Englishman sat a young American hailing from Boston. Now I do not know whether the Bostonian had heard the remarks of the Britisher or not, but when the officer reached him and asked ìhave you any luggage?î the Bostonian: ìLuggage? luggage? I guess you mean baggage, for which luggage is an obsolete term used by those who are away behind the times. Yes I have baggage.î The Englishman's face became purple, and for a few moments he looked as if we would have an international conflict right then and there; but the Englishman said nothing more, and the incident was closed.

During our trip around the Lake of Lugano our steamer passed into Italy twice, the boundary line crossing the elbow of the lake. There was a custom officer from each country on board, and by watching them we could tell when the boat was crossing the line. If we were entering Italy the Italian officer dropped off into a seat and immediately became engrossed in a cigarette or a newspaper, while the Swiss officer threw away his cigarette and was on the alert at once, walking around the decks, scanning every comer, and examining every parcel or bag bound for his country. If we were entering Switzerland, the actions of the two officers became reversed, the Swiss throwing himself into a seat and seemingly forgetting all that was around him, while the Italian became vigilance personified.

Boarding the fast express again, a ride of fifty minutes brought us to the city of Como, which stands on the south end of the Lake of Como, in Italy. The lake of Como is the most beautiful and popular of the Italian lakes, is surrounded by lofty hills and mountains, some of the latter rising to the height of 7000 ft. Every accessible site on its shores is occupied by a town, village, hotel or villa; beautiful parks and gardens abound, and the slopes of the mountain and hill are covered with timber in which mulberry and chestnut are plentiful. The shape of the lake is not unlike a wish bone, the arms or extremities crooked and extending southward; its greatest length is 30 and its greatest width is two and one-half miles. The main or north portion and the west arm are called the Lake of Como, and the east arm of the Lake of Lecco being situated at its south end. The river Adda flows in at the north end, and out at the south end of the Lecco arm, and some of the nearby mountains are covered with perpetual snow. There is a fleet of small steamboats on the lake, and boarding one of them we went up to the lake to Bellagio, a pretty village situated on the point of land that divides the two arms of the lake. Being one of the coolest (unreadable words) . .. number of good hotels that do a thriving business and are seldom without American boarders. The village is famed for its pretty articles of olive wood beautifully ornamented with wooden mosaics. Many of the people on and near the lake are engaged in the culture and manufacture of silk.

On the 25th of August we left Como for Venice. A run of thirty miles brought us to Milan, a city of 430,000 inhabitants, and one of the most wealthiest manufacturing commercial cities in Italy. Having spent several days in Milan in 1902, we were not strangers there; but as we had to wait there three hours for a train to Venice, we passed the time visiting Leonardo Da Vinci's celebrated painting of the ìLast Supper;î the magnificent cathedral, and other objects of importance. After seeing the Cologne cathedral, the one at Milan does not appear well in comparison; but it is nevertheless a beautiful structure. A cold wave had spread over northern Italy that day, and overcoats were in demand. But there has been very hot weather there since. The distance from Milan to Venice is 165 miles, mostly over the level and fertile plain that extends along the south foot of the Alpine highlands, and a very pleasant ride in cool weather. Our train covered the distance in a little over four and one-half hours, pausing twenty minutes at Verona for lunch, and at other stations on the line. The next two days were spent in Venice,. and on the evening of the 27th we boarded an Italian steamer for the return voyage to Greece. We had pleasant weather and an uneventful voyage, via Ancona, Bari, Brindisi and Corfu; landed at Patras early on Sept. 1st; took the first train for Athens, and arrived there safe and quite well that evening.

During the sixty days jaunt we had visited more than 25 cities and places of importance, we had traveled 4300 miles, 2300 by water, the remainder by rail; had studied many strange scenes, people and customs, had acquired a large am't of information; and better still had regained both in health and strength. The 2000 miles traveled by rail had been divided into eighteen separate runs or journeys, but three of which exceeded three hours each in duration, thus avoiding the fatigue of long railroad journeys. We rode only in first class cars, but no two of the eighteen were alike in either construction or finish. The variety of passenger cars used in Europe is surprising, and their discomforts proverbial; but for short journeys they are passable.

In Europe the traveler can now secure cheap rates on both land and water by purchasing round-trip tickets. With the exception of the visit to Zurich, we had planned and bought round-trip tickets, for our two month's journey before leaving Athens, therefore saving 20 per ct. of the faire; quite an item. Without telling what the trip cost us, I will inform those who may desire to travel in Europe, that a person able to walk in seeing cities and making short excursions can make the trip we did, traveling first-class on land and water, and stopping at first-class hotels (but not in hotels that charge fancy prices because of their names), for $290 or less provided that they do not indulge in too many ìextrasî at the hotels. If it was well known in the United States how much of the old world can be seen for an outlay of $300 to $500 traveling second-class, and boarding at cheap but clean hotels or pensions, the number of American travelers would be quadrupled at least. The American teacher or student who wishes to study portions of Europe and has $300 on hand, can hardly spend it to a better advantage than by taking a vacation trip on this side of the big pond. Many thousand do so annually.

(The End)