[Ill.u.s.tration: The coffee began to boil in the church kitchen, the aroma floated through the auditorium]

All my ancestors came from England and settled in New England. New England was chiefly inhabited by Indians at the time, but, I suppose, there still lurks a trace of English in me.

That old joke about the English being slow is no joke--it's a sad fact.

If further proof than my inability to corral that ill.u.s.tration inside of fifteen minutes were necessary, I've demonstrated it coming through India this trip.

The universal way of washing clothes in India is for a native, they call him a dobe, to take his clothes to the bank of a stream, conveniently near a large stone.

The larger the stone the better. One weighing from one to three tons is an ideal size.

The dobe picks up a garment, souses it in the water, and flails the stone with it.

The dobe is a particularly vigorous man. The average Indian is of a lymphatic nature, excepting the dobe. He is animated with a strenuousness entirely lacking in all other callings.

Mark Twain, pa.s.sing through India some fifteen years ago, noting the strange sights, remarked that all over India he had seen the natives trying to break huge stones with a shirt; but, he added, he hadn't, in a single instance, seen one succeed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: That old joke about the English being slow is no joke--it's a sad fact]

[Ill.u.s.tration: And every time the Englishman has explained to me that he wasn't trying to break the stone]

Just to see whether our English cousins over here in India had caught that joke yet, when our train crossed a stream I would draw a chance English traveler's attention to the ubiquitous dobe flailing a stone, and wonderingly ask: "Why does the man try to break the stone that way?"--and every time the Englishman has explained to me that he wasn't trying to break the stone; and he would further kindly explain, "That's the way the Indians do their washing," and he would invariably add: "Beastly stupid, don't you know, isn't it?"

And every time I've sadly admitted that it was.

x.x.x

ENGLISH AS "SHE IS SPOKE" IN INDIA

Benares is located on the Ganges River and is right in the center of things for devout Hindus--Benares bearing the same relation to Hinduism that Jerusalem does to Christianity.

Benares is the Hindus' sacred city, and the sacred Ganges River is lined with temples and bathing and burning ghats.

Hindus come from afar to die at Benares, where their bodies may be burned and their ashes consigned to the sacred waters of the Ganges.

And after Benares, by easy stages, Lal and I reached Delhi, the old capital of India, until the seat of government was shifted to Calcutta, to be again brought back to Delhi three years ago. And here is some English "as she is spoke" in Delhi, handed out by an enterprising shopkeeper to both Royalty and Plebeian:

"Useful value, Save Your Money (Defy Compet.i.tion)

"We have much pleasure to inform the Ladies and Gentlemen, Officers and visitors and prince and the public in general who have always been our customers or who wished to make the shopping they must not use the Hotel and traveling guides and Hotel Carriages at the purchasing time because they always Carried the visitors to those places where they getting 25 per cent Commission, now it is a great point to think that when they will get so High Commission from the shop keepers then the visitors cannot get the things worth of a rupee only they will be extorted and will get the things 4 ans. worth in a rupee, now it is useful advice for them that the visitors should not make any purchases without having inspected our prices and charges, as we are not going to any Hotel to distribute our cards and never use to give them any Commission that is why we are ready to sell our articles at comparatively prices, our firm oldest and reliable has been established in 1860 in Chandni Chowk now we have shifted our shop from there to here near the Jama Masjid No. 1 for the convenience of our customers.

"No use to get the money from your pocket and to give these guides and Ghari-walas."

x.x.xI

A FIVE DAYS' SAIL AND A MEASLY POEM

We are nearing Aden in Arabia, en route from Bombay.

Bombay was all stirred up over the war and my itinerary is knocked into a c.o.c.ked hat.

I had planned to go through Palestine to Constantinople and cross Europe to London, but I can't get my pa.s.sport viseed--I'm no war correspondent, anyway. I'm strictly a man of peace.

When Lal and I reached Bombay war was on, and Bombay was about two-thirds of my way around the world, and home loomed large in my mind--I wanted to get home. This English P. & O. mail liner was ready to sail direct for London--and this was my ship.

For a strictly peaceful man this was not a good boat to sail on, I was advised, numerously, and from many sources.

All banks in India since war was declared had shut down paying out gold. This ship was going to carry four million pounds sterling to London, which, in round numbers, is twenty million dollars.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Home loomed large in my mind--I wanted to go home]

She would be a prize for the German gunboats in the Arabian Sea. Aden would be her first stop, a five days' sail from Bombay. The Germans knew her schedule and her route and knew she would carry Indian gold to London. She would have no chance at all to make Aden with all that gold on board. The Germans would get her.

Then, from there up through the Red Sea to Suez she wouldn't be out of danger--there were German gunboats in the Red Sea. She might get through the Suez Ca.n.a.l all right, if she ever got so far as Suez. The trip through the ca.n.a.l might possibly be a peaceful one, but, ye G.o.ds!

look out when she strikes Port Said at the other end of the ca.n.a.l, if she ever gets that far, was the word pa.s.sed out.

Port Said would be a hot point. Nothing but submarines would be safe around Port Said about her due date there, it would be such a seething hot-bed of naval engagements.

From there her course through the Mediterranean to Gibraltar would be one trying ordeal for a man of peace, not used to, looking for, nor wanting war's alarms. Italy was hanging in the balance as a neutral power. She would probably be in it before the ship could reach the Mediterranean at Port Said--if she ever reached Port Said.

To sail on this ship through the Mediterranean under present conditions would be, for a rank civilian, just like committing suicide. Of course for a soldier, whose job is war, it would be all right--all in the day's business--justifiable.

Then after she reached Gibraltar (of course this was supposing the improbable chance of her ever getting so far as Gibraltar) she would have to sail out into the Atlantic through the Bay of Biscay, and up the Thames, and the telegraph said the Germans had slipped over and mined the mouth of the Thames--for a man anxious to get home this was a bad ship to sail on. That was the encouragement held out to book for pa.s.sage on this ship.

I met a man at the Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay (I'd met this man two weeks previously at Calcutta)--an American, a machinery salesman from the United States.

He told me he was on his way home, had crossed India to Bombay to connect with this P. & O. liner, but none of this ship for him.

He had been filled as full, if not fuller, than myself of the dire disasters that would, in all probability, overtake this ship.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Just like committing suicide]

"Why, Mr. Allen," he said, "that ship will have about as much chance to get to London as a celluloid dog would have to catch an asbestos cat racing through----" "Oh, say, my friend," I said, "don't say it.

"Aside from that ill.u.s.tration having gray whiskers, it makes me nervous and discourages me, because I want to get home, and that is the ship I ought to sail on. But let's go and see our Consul; he may be able to throw a little optimism on the situation."

[Ill.u.s.tration: He had been filled as full, if not fuller, than myself]

The Consul took an even more gloomy view of it than my friend from Calcutta. Aside from the above cheerful opinions, all of which he shared, he had the air of a man who knew something worse but was not at liberty to tell.

That settled my friend from Calcutta.