Everywhere I had friends; everywhere they came crowding to shake me
by the hand with a "How are you the day, Harry?"
It was a long trip, but it was a happy one. How long ago it seems
now, as I write, in this new day of war! How far away are all the
common, kindly things that then I did not notice, and that now I
would give the world and a' to have back again!
Then, everywhere I went, they pressed their dainties upon me whenever
I sat down for a sup and a bite. The board groaned with plenty. I was
in a rich country, a country where there was enough for all, and to
spare. And now, as I am writing I am travelling again across America.
And there is not enough. When I sit down at table there is a card of
Herbert Hoover's, bidding me be careful how I eat and what I choose.
Ay, but he has no need to warn me! Well I know the truth, and how
America is helping to feed her allies over there, and so must be
sparing herself.
To think of it! In yon far day the world was all at peace. And now
that great America, that gave so little thought to armies and to
cannon, is fighting with my ain British against the Hun!
It was in March of 1914 that we sailed from San Francisco, on the
tenth of the month. It was a glorious day as we stood on the deck of
the old Pacific liner _Sonoma_. I was eager and glad to be off. To be
sure, America had been kinder to me than ever, and I was loath, in a
way, to be leaving her and all the friends of mine she held--old
friends of years, and new ones made on that trip.
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