"With love from

"LUCY."

Elder Malby accompanied Chester to the station to meet his friends from Ireland. The two brothers were fairly well acquainted with London, so they had no trouble in finding a hotel in a quiet part of the city.

Lucy's father seemed himself again. He walked with a cane, which, however, may have been his regular European custom. Lucy was uncommonly well, declaring that the long journey had not tired her a bit.

Plans were discussed in the hotel that evening, and it was finally decided to go to Paris by way of Rotterdam, Antwerp and Brussels. The stages would have to be easy for the sake of the "two invalids," as Uncle Gilbert put it, to which Chester heartily agreed.

Late the next morning, for the travelers needed the rest, Chester called for them, and the party of four saw a little of London from the top of a 'bus. The weather continued fair, and as the summer was well advanced, the air was warm. The sightseers had a simple luncheon at a small cafe which Uncle Gilbert knew near the British Museum, and then they continued their rambles until the close of the afternoon, when Chester put them down at the "Mormon" mission headquarters.

Elder Malby received them warmly, provided easy seats for Lucy and her father, and took hats and wraps under protestations that they were not going to stay. A number of missionaries came in and they were introduced. Lucy beamed with delight, her father unreservedly told the young men they were from America,--and western America at that; but Uncle Gilbert was not quite at his ease among the new company. He knew, of course, that these people were "Mormons," and his knowledge of "Mormons" and their ways, although somewhat vague, was not reassuring.

When the good-natured English housekeeper announced that supper was ready, it seemed impossible to do otherwise than to follow her and Elder Malby down to the large basement room. In fact, Lucy, without any ifs or ands took her father's arm and led him along. Uncle Gilbert thought he had never seen her in such a bold frame of mind.

Certainly, Chester, Elder Malby, and the housekeeper must have plotted to bring about that little supper party. The dining room was severely bare, but scrupulously clean. That evening the threadbare table cloth had been replaced by a new one. The usual menu of bread, milk, and jam was augmented by slices of cold meat, a dish of fruit, and a cake. Two small bouquets adorned the ends of the long table.

"Visitors," whispered one of the elders to another.

"Extraordinary visitors," replied the other. "Just like home when Uncle John came to see us."

The housekeeper even furnished tea for the Rev. Mr. Strong and his brother. Lucy said she liked milk better, so she filled her glass along with Chester's and the other "Mormons." She chatted freely with the young elder near her, learned that he was from Idaho, that he had been away six months, that he had not been home-sick, and that he was not married. The elders were to hold street meetings that evening after supper.

"I should like to go with you," she said; but Chester, overhearing the conversation, told her that for various reasons, such a course would not be wise.

Afterwards, there was some singing in the office-parlor, then Chester went with the party to their hotel.

"I believe papa is being favorably impressed," said Lucy to Chester before they parted. "I wish he could see as I do."

"That would indeed be something to be thankful for," agreed Chester.

The following afternoon the continental party took the train to Harwich, then boat for the Hook of Holland, where they arrived next morning. A short ride by rail brought them to Rotterdam.

Uncle Gilbert had seen the city before, but the quaint town interested the others for the first time. "Everything is clean in Holland but the canals," some one has said. In Rotterdam, the ancient windmills, with huge spreading arms, stand in the midst of modern shops, and the contrast is strange.

Uncle Gilbert directed the party to the Delftshaven church, explaining that in this ancient building the Pilgrim Fathers worshiped before they set sail for the New World. Then the sight-seers took train for The Hague, ten miles away. They visited the House of the Woods, where the Peace Congresses are held, observed Queen Wilhelmina's residence from without, looked at some of the famous paintings in the art gallery, then shuddered over the instruments of torture on exhibition in the "Torture Chamber" found in the old prison. There were some gruesome articles here.

"All in the name of religion," remarked the minister, shaking his head.

"It seems to me that in those days men taxed their ingenuity to find new and more terrible means of inflicting pain. And men suffered in those days because of religious belief."

Someone had expressed himself on the subject in these lines, which they read from a card:

"By my soul's hope of rest, I'd rather have been born, ere man was blessed With the pure dawn of revelation's light; Yea; rather plunge me back into pagan night And take my chances with Socrates for bliss, Than be a Christian of a faith like this."

Out from the depressing gloom of the prison, they took the electric car to Scheveningen, the famous sea-side resort. The season was hardly begun yet, so there were but few visitors. However, the sands dotted with their peculiar wicker shelters and the beautiful blue North Sea were there. Out on the water could be seen the little "pinken"--the fishing boats, their sails red and taut or white and wing-like, speeding before the wind. The waves swept in long straight lines, and broke on the sands in muffled sound. The scene was restful, so the party was served with something to eat and drink on a table within sound and sight of the open sea.

That evening, back in Rotterdam, Chester and Lucy, while the two brothers took their ease "at home," found the Mission headquarters, introduced themselves to the elders, and spent a few hours very pleasantly with them. They learned from the missionaries that the Dutch were for the most part, an honest, God-fearing people, quite susceptible to the gospel. There were no meetings that evening, but in lieu thereof, the presiding elder took them out and introduced them to some of the Saints. Then, when they came back to the office, the housekeeper served them with cool milk, white bread, sweet butter, and whiter cheese.

The next day the tourists went on to Brussels, stopping a few hours only at Antwerp, which city was a surprise. As Chester said, "I remember seeing such a place on the map, but I had no idea it was such a fine, large city.

They saw many wide streets lined with the most unique houses, many of them having "terraced gables" facing the street.

"This is certainly the town for fancy 'gingerbread' decorations,"

commented Chester, as they observed the net-work of cornices and forest of pinnacles. There was even a full-sized mounted charger on the topmost point of a seven-story building. The Cathedral, with its tall sculptured tower, was no doubt an architectural marvel. A brief visit was made to the art gallery, "full of Ruben's fat women," as Uncle Gilbert expressed it.

"'Anvers,'" read the minister from a post-card. "I thought this was Antwerp?"

"Antwerp is the English of it," explained Uncle Gilbert.

"Well, I think names--names of cities and countries, at least, should be the same in all languages. At any rate, they could be spelled alike. If this town is Anvers, why not call it that?"

Sunday evening brought the party to Brussels, or Bruxelles, in the original. The life and gaity of the city were in full swing, and most of the shops were doing their usual business. Uncle Gilbert did not want to remain long, but Lucy said she wished to visit the battle-field of Waterloo, and one or two points of interest in the city. So the evening and the next day were consumed. The battle-field is reached by train from the city. From the Waterloo station, there is a mile or two of walking or riding in carriages to the immediate field of battle. A great pyramid of earth covered with grass to its summit marks the spot where the conflict raged the fiercest. From the top of this monument a fine view is had. What was once a bloody battle-field was that day decked with growing fields, dotted with feeding kine. Lucy had again to be denied the pleasure of the view from the top. She sat in the wagon below and got what she could from the man who had been left with the horses.

It was all very interesting, but Lucy was so tired when they got back to the hotel that she could not see more of Brussels.

Next morning they went on to Paris. All but Chester had been in this gay city before. The weather was getting quite warm, so the two brothers did not care to follow the strenuous pace set by Chester in his sight seeing. During the heat of the day they kept quietly within their rooms or strolled leisurely along the shaded boulevards. Chester, by promising to take the utmost care of Lucy, was permitted to take her with him to visit some of the sights. She knew enough French to make herself fairly well understood, and that was a great help.

So these two rode and rambled about Paris for nearly a week, sometimes with the father, sometimes with Uncle Gilbert, but more often by themselves. The days were fine. The parks and boulevards were gay with people. They made purchases in the shops along Rue de Rivoli and at the Bon Marche, the great department store which Lucy declared they could equal in Kansas City. They gazed for hours in the Louvre Art Gallery, coming back time and again to look once more at some picture. The Venus de Milo had a fascination about it which drew them into the long gallery, where at the extreme end, the classic marble figure stands alone.

They rode on the Seine, wondering at its clear waters. They walked about the open squares and gardens all of them of historic significance. They promenaded, very quietly, it is true, along the Champs Elysees. They lingered about the Petit Palais, one of the most beautiful of Paris buildings because of its newness, its clean, chaste finish, and the artistic combination of marble, pictures, and flowers. Was it any wonder that amid all this interesting beauty Chester's and Lucy's eyes and hands frequently met to express what words failed to do?

The four sight-seers were at Napoleon's Tomb, admiring the wonderful light effect.

"Every time I visit this place," said Uncle Gilbert, "I like to read a summary of Napoleon's career which I found and clipped. Would you like to hear it?"

The others said they would, so Uncle Gilbert read:

"Egyptian sands and Russian snows alike invaded; a revolution quelled, an empire created; his own brethren seated on thrones of vassal kingdoms; a complete code of jurisprudence formed for France from the wrecks of mediaeval misrule; the most profound strategist of the ages; denounced by nations as the 'disturber of the peace of the world;'

violating the marriage law of God and man; himself a dwarf in height, and lowering the physical stature of a generation of his countrymen through the frightful carnage of wars undertaken largely for his personal aggrandizement; succumbing in the moment of final victory to insidious disease; twice expatriated, dying in exile across the seas, after twenty years; in life, the idol of a race and the detestation of the rest of the continent; and now, a handful of dust, his spirit in the presence of its Maker.'"

This reading furnished a text for the minister, who talked rather more freely than he had recently done. Notre Dame lay in their route that afternoon, so naturally enough, they went in, Uncle Gilbert remarking that this was a fit place for the minister to conclude his sermon.

"What a dark, musty place," said Lucy.

"It fits in very well with their religion," suggested Chester. "A lot of outward show, but within, dark and dead."

Uncle Gilbert, though living in Ireland, was not a Catholic, so he took no offense at this remark.

Then while they were "doing" churches, they visited that of St. Sulpice, a very large edifice, in the floor of which is a brass line which marks the Meridian of Paris. At the left of the entrance sits St. Peter in life-sized bronze, in possession of the Keys. The naked big toe of this figure is easily reached by the worshipers.

"I have heard of people kissing images of the Saints," said Chester, "but I have never seen anything of the kind. Let us rest here a while, to see if anything happens."

Lucy was glad of the suggestion as she was more tired than she wished to acknowledge. The big church was cool and quiet. Worshipers singly and in twos were coming and going. Presently, a woman, and presumably her daughter, came in, and as they passed St. Peter they leaned forward and kissed the shining, metal toe. They passed on to a confessional where the priest could be seen and faintly heard behind the latticed window.

All this was exceedingly interesting to the young people. The two brothers were absorbed more in the building itself than what was going on within; even to what their two young people were doing. Chester, surely was prompted by a spirit of sacriledge when he took from an inner pocket a picture post-card he had bought in Ireland.

"The kissing of the toe reminded me of it," said he, as he handed the card to Lucy, who looked at the picture of an Irishman in the act of kissing his sweetheart, Blarney Castle being shown in the distance.

Underneath was the following:

"With quare sinsashuns and palpitashuns, A kiss I'll venture here, Mavrone; 'Tis swater Blarney, good Father Mahoney, Kissin' the girls than that dirty stone."