In spite of the fact that we were steaming along the beaten paths of navigation it was not until our fifth day that we encountered another ship, and then it was about eleven o'clock at night, and after the majority of the passengers had "sought the seclusion that a cabin grants," to again quote from Pinafore. Suddenly, as we plowed the waters, the scene was brilliantly illuminated by a powerful calcium light on top of the wheel-house, and by its glare we saw not far distant a steamer that we afterward ascertained to be the one bound from Honolulu to San Francisco. She had left San Francisco for the islands before the Presidential election had taken place, and as the Hawaiian Islands were not connected by cable with the United States, its passengers were ignorant of the result. It had been arranged, however, that a single rocket was to be sent up from the Alameda in case of Harrison's election, and two in case of, his defeat. As Harrison had been elected only a single rocket from our steamer cleft the blue, leaving behind it a trail of fiery sparks, and this was answered by a shower of rockets from the "Australia," that being the name of the sister ship that we had met, after which her lights grew dimmer and dimmer until they were finally lost to sight below the horizon.

With music, cards and games of chance of every kind and variety the days and nights passed pleasantly enough on board ship, and if there was anything that we had not bet upon before the ship arrived at Honolulu it was simply because it had been overlooked in some careless manner by the tourists. When it came to making up a poker party the old gentleman was greatly missed, as "Pa Anson" had never been found wanting when there was a card party on hand and a chance to wager his chips.

Before leaving San Francisco Mr. Spalding had met the Liverpool, England, agent of the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad, a Mr. S. A. Perry, and as a result of a long conversation it was agreed upon that the latter should visit such European cities as the tourists might desire to play ball in, and cable the result of his investigations to Australia. III case he found the indications were favorable to our doing a good business in Great Britain, where we were again desirous of giving exhibitions, it had been about decided by Mr. Spalding and myself that we should continue on around the world instead of returning directly home from Australia, as we had first intended. The possibility of a change in our plans we had, however, kept to ourselves, the newspaper correspondents only being taken into our confidence. The matter was allowed to leak out, however, during the voyage to Honolulu and the proposed trip was greeted with great enthusiasm by the ball players, who looked forward to it with the most pleasant anticipations, and who talked of but little else until the details were finally agreed upon at Melbourne and the proposed trip became a reality instead of a mere "castle in the air."

The details of this trip had already been made public in the United States the week after our departure from San Francisco, so that the people at home were aware of what might occur even before the ball players themselves had had a chance to realize that they were to become globetrotters.

Owing to the fact that we had left San Francisco a day late we were a day late in arriving at the capital of the Hawaiian Islands, where we had been scheduled to play a game on Saturday, November 24th, but where, owing to an unfortunate combination of circumstances, we were fated not to play at all in spite of the fact that every preparation for our doing so had been made and that King and court were more than anxious to see the American athletes in action. The nightfall of Saturday found us still plowing the blue waters of the Pacific 150 miles from the islands, and as we sat on deck in the moonlight we could picture in fancy the despair of our advance agent, Mr. Simpson, who had gone on ahead of us from San Francisco and who was still in ignorance of the cause of our detention.

It was just as the day began to break on the morning of Sunday, November 25th, that the cry of "Land ho!" from the lookout on the bridge echoed over the steamer's decks, and it was but a few minutes afterward when the members of our party had assembled next the rail to gaze at what was then but a faint blur upon the distant horizon. An hour later the green verdure of the islands and the rugged peaks of the mountains that loomed up against the rosy tint of the changing sky were plainly discernible, as were the white buildings of the city of Honolulu and the little fleet of shipping that was anchored in its bays. The sight was a beautiful one, and one upon which we gazed with delight as the steamer sailed in past Diamond Head and slowed down in the still waters of the bay upon whose shores Honolulu is located.

Nearing the shore we were met by a ship's boat containing Mr. Geoffrey, the steamship company's resident agent; Harry Simpson, our advance guard; Mr. F. M. Whitney and Mr. Geo. N. Smith, the latter a cousin of Mr. Spalding, then residing in Honolulu, together with a party of natives bearing baskets that were filled with wreaths of flowers called "Leis," with which they proceeded to decorate each member of our party as a token of welcome and good will. As the steamer cables were made fast and we were drawn slowly to our berth at the dock we looked down from our perch on the rail at a crowd of fully 2,000 people that assembled there to bid us welcome, the King's band, "The Royal Hawaiian," with dark complexions and uniforms of white duck, occupying a conspicuous place and playing for our benefit such familiar tunes as "The Star Spangled Banner," "Yankee-.Doodle," and "The Girl I Left Behind Me," each and every one of them bringing out an answering cheer from the Alameda's passengers.

The morning was a bright and beautiful one and the mountains touched with the gold: of the sunrise, the plantations lying green and quiet along the shores, and the rapidly-growing crowd upon the dock, all combined to make the picture beautiful, and one that will never be forgotten.

The officers of the U. S. Cruiser "Alert," which lay not far distant, had given us a hearty cheer as we passed, while the cheers that greeted us from the dock were almost incessant and told us in an unmistakable manner that we were indeed welcome to the "Paradise of the Pacific."

Looking down from the steamer deck one saw people of almost every clime, the dark complexioned, straight-haired and intelligent-looking natives being in the majority, their white suits and dark faces adding greatly to the color of the scene. Pretty girls, too, were very much in evidence, and the eyes of many of our party strayed in their direction, especially those of the unmarried men, which variety composed the majority of our party.

Business in Honolulu the day before had been entirely suspended in expectation of our arrival, and great was the disappointment when the day passed without the steamer being sighted. It was then thought that we would not put in an appearance before Monday, and so, when the word went around on Sunday morning that the "Alameda" was coming in, the entire city was taken by surprise and everything was bustle and confusion.

King Kalakuau had set up a great portion of the night awaiting our coming, and so disappointed was he when we failed to put in an appearance that he accumulated an uncomfortable load, and this he was engaged in sleeping off when he was awakened by his courtiers and informed of our arrival.

Shortly after we had shaken hands with the members of the reception committee and the steamer had been made fast to the dock we entered the carriages that had been provided for us and were driven to the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, passing by the palace of King Kalakuau on the way. The streets were in themselves a novelty, being lined by stately palms, cocoanuts and bananas, laden with fruits and nuts, while there were flowers everywhere. The hotel, which stood in the center of beautifully laid out grounds, seemed like some palatial residence, and we were no sooner seated in the spacious dining-room, with its open windows extending from floor to ceiling, than the Royal Band began a concert in the music-stand beneath the windows.

This band was certainly a magnificent one, and one that has but few equals in the world, or had at that time, it being then under the leadership of Bandmaster Berger, a musician of the first class.

At breakfast that morning we were served for the first time with the native dish of "Poi," a pink-colored mush that, to be appreciated, must be eaten in the native manner, the people to the manner born plunging a forefinger into the dish, giving it a peculiar twist that causes it to cling, and then depositing it between the lips, where the "Poi" remains and the finger is again ready to seek the dish. In eating in such a fashion Frank Flint would have had away the best of it, and, as it was, I noticed both then and afterward that men like Williamson, Ward and others, who boasted of a base-ball finger, managed to get away with something more than their share of the delicacy.

On the balconies after breakfast we again listened to the sweet strains of the "Aloha Oe," the welcome song of the native Islanders, with which we had been greeted on our arrival at the docks.

As we stood on the balconies taking in the beautiful sights by which we were surrounded, we were informed that his majesty, "the King of the Cannibal Islands," as some members of the party irreverently referred to him, would be pleased to receive us at eleven o'clock at the palace. An invitation from a King is equivalent to a command, and so we at once made ready for the reception. When the appointed hour arrived Clarence Duval, clad in the full regalia of a drum major, took his place at the head of the Royal Band, which had formed in front of the hotel, and behind the music, headed by United States Minister Morrill and Mr. Spalding, were the members of the two teams in double file, the ladies following in carriages. In this order the procession marched to the palace, where the King and his cabinet were awaiting our arrival.

The grounds surrounding the palace were beautiful, indeed, and as we reached the massive portico at the entrance the band formed on one side as, with hats off, we filed up the steps, being met on the landing by members of the King's Cabinet, and by attendants, who directed us to the blue room, where we deposited our hats and canes. We were then requested to follow Minister Morrill, who took Mr. Spalding's arm and led the way across a great hall hung with pictures of the Island's dead-and-gone rulers, and into the throne room, the latter an imposing apartment large enough for several hundred couples to dance in, where the King, arrayed in citizen's clothes, stood before his throne with a Gentleman of Honor in court costume on either side. Minister Morrill introduced Mr. Spalding to the King, and he in turn introduced the other members of our party as they filed in by him, be bowing to each of the party as the name was mentioned. After the reception was over we wrote our names on the court register, and then, after being shown through the palace, were escorted back to the hotel by the band.

King Kalakuau was by no means a bad-looking fellow, being tall and somewhat portly, with the usual dark complexion, dark eyes and white teeth, which were plainly visible when he smiled, that distinguished all of the Kanaka race. Somehow, and for no apparent reason, there came to my mind as I looked at him the lines of that old song:

"Hokey, pokey, winky wum, How do you like your murphys done? Sometimes hot and sometimes cold, King of the Cannibal Islands,"

and I tried hard to fancy what might have happened had we landed on those same islands several centuries before.

Sunday amusements of all kinds being prohibited by an old Hawaiian law, a relic of the old missionary days, made an exhibition by the members of the two teams an impossibility, although the members of the Reception Committee, backed by many of the native Islanders, petitioned that we should do so, offering to bear any and all of the expenses incurred by us should any trouble be forthcoming. Couriers bearing petitions to the same effect were also sent around the city, and soon over a thousand names to these had been obtained. The risk was too great a one to be taken, however, as in case anything did happen we were almost certain to miss our boat and be detained in Honolulu for a longer period of time than we could afford to spend there. Our refusal to defy the law and play ball anyhow was a great disappointment both to the American contingent and to the natives, they having been looking forward to the game for weeks with most pleasant anticipations. They took their disappointment good-naturedly, however, and proceeded to make our stay among them as pleasant as possible. The most of our time was devoted to sight-seeing, some of the party going in one direction and some in the other.

In company with several others, Mrs. Anson and myself drove out to the Pali, viewing the magnificent scenery to be found there from the plateau, where, according to the tales of the natives, it rains every day in the year between certain hours. I was not there long enough to swear to the truth of the story, but as it rained the one day that we were on hand I am willing to assume that it rained the other three hundred and sixty-four, and let it go at that. We then drove through many of the city's most beautiful avenues, past the Royal mausoleum, where sleep the former Kings and Queens of Hawaii, from Kamehameha to the Princess Like Like, who was the last of those that had been interred there at the time of our visit. The parks and roadways of Honolulu are of rare beauty, and many of the principal residences and public buildings of a kind that would do credit to any country in the world. At the residence of the Hon. A. S. Claghorn, where we stopped for a few minutes, we were introduced to the Princess Kaiulani, a really beautiful Hawaiian girl, and one who was the possessor of rare accomplishments and of a most winning manner. We also paid a visit to the residence of one Hon. John H. Cummins, one of the Hawaiian sugar kings, where we were entertained in a most handsome manner. The time spent in driving around passed all too quickly, and, reaching the hotel, we began to prepare for the grand Luau, or native feast, that was to be given in our honor by King Kalakuau and Messrs. Samuel Parker, John Ena and George Beckley, and which proved to be one of the most novel and delightful features of our trip.

This feast was given in the Queen's grounds, in the center of which was placed her private residence. As we drove past the King's palace and through an avenue lined by towering palms and came unexpectedly upon the brilliantly illuminated-grounds, with their magnificent groves of banana, date, cocoanut, royal palms and other trees and plants of a tropical nature, the scene was a never to be forgotten one. The spacious enclosure was literally ablaze with light. Japanese lanterns of all colors, flaming torches of oil gleaming close together among the foliage.

As the uniformed officers at the gates made way for us we entered the grounds. Minister Morrill, Mr. Spalding, Capt. Morse of the "Alameda," and the ladies leading the way and walking toward a great tree near the center of the grounds, beneath which stood the King, the Hon. John Cummins, and the members of the King's Cabinet. At the birth of each member of the Royal family, according to custom, a tree was planted upon royal ground, and as this tree flourishes or decays it is supposed to foreshadow the future of the child for whom it was planted. King Kalakuau on this occasion stood beneath his own birth-tree, planted some, fifty years before, which at that time gave no indication of the fate that a few years later was to overtake him in a strange land. Greeting each of his guests cordially he bade all make ourselves thoroughly at home, a thing that we proceeded at once to do without further ceremony, wandering about the grounds and seeing whatever was to be seen.

An hour after our arrival the King, offering his arm to Mrs. Spalding, led the way toward the grove where the banquet was to be served, he being followed by H. R. H. Lilino Kalani, the King's sister, Prince Kawanonakoa, Mr. Spalding, Capt. Morse and the rest of the party. The tables were laid upon blocks elevated not more than six inches from the ground, in the shape of a letter U, and upon each side lay long strips of matting, upon which we sat cross-legged, like Turks, while shapely Kanaka girls in flowing robes of white stood over us moving fans of gorgeous colors. Poi was given to us in huge calabashes, while upon the big platters that were set before us and incased in the long, coarse-fibred leaves in which they had been baked, were portions of beef, pork, veal, fish, chickens and other viands usual to a banquet in our own land. Bands of native boys with stringed instruments played continuously' during the feast, making music of a peculiar character, that rose and fell as the busy hum of conversation and mingled with the joyous laughter of the men and maidens that were gathered about the table.

At last silence was requested, and as the noise died away the King's Attorney General, speaking for his majesty, expressed the pleasure that the Hawaiian ruler felt in entertaining such a representative body of Americans in his own islands. To this speech President Spalding responded in well-chosen words, thanking both the King and the residents of Honolulu for the hospitality shown us, after which, at the King's request, Lincoln entertained the guests with his satire on after-dinner speeches, his "A B C" orations, and his mixing of a soda cocktail, all of which provoked roars of laughter. After the banquet the King and the members of his court and family held a levee beneath his birth-tree, where, just before nine o'clock, we all filed by to bid him farewell, Clarence Duval having danced for him in the meantime to the patting of hands by Burns, Pfeffer, Ryan and Williamson, a performance that amused his majesty greatly, a tea-dollar gold piece being the reward that he gave to the little coon for his performance.

At the outskirts of the grounds we paused to give three cheers for King Kalakuau, three more for our Honolulu friends, and three more for the ladies, after which we were driven to the hotel and thence to-the steamer, which was to sail at ten o'clock. At the dock another great crowd had assembled to see us off, and as we swung out to sea there came to our ears the sweet strains of the "Aloha" song, from the members of the Royal Band, growing fainter and fainter as the distance between the steamer and the shore increased, until at last it died away altogether as we rounded the headlands, and it was heard no more.



CHAPTER XXII. FROM HONOLULU TO AUSTRALIA.

The majority of our party, and among them Mrs. Anson and myself, remained upon the deck that evening chatting of the many beautiful things that we had seen and gazing in the direction of the fast-vanishing islands until they were at last lost to sight behind the mystic veil of the moonlight, and then we sought our stateroom to dream of the wonderful sights that were yet to come. There was now an ocean trip of 3,900 miles before us, before we should set foot on shore at New Zealand, and with never a stop between save a brief wait for the mail at the Samoan Islands. We were all pretty fair sailors by this time, having become used to the motion of the vessel, and so the long voyage had for us no terror, though we could not help but hope that the sea would remain as smooth as it had been up to that time, and that we should encounter no storms before reaching our destination.

How to keep the members of the two teams in anything like good condition for playing had been a problem with me for several days and one that I had spent some time in studying over during the first week of our voyage. The boys were all getting restless for lack of active exercise, and it was plain to me that something would have tot, be done or they would be in no condition when Australia was reached to do themselves or the country that, they represented justice.

"See here, George," I said to Wright the afternoon after we had left Honolulu, as we were sitting beside the steamer rail and looking across the blue expanse of waters, "this sort of a life will never do for American ballplayers who expect to exploit the beauties of the game in foreign lands. We shall be as stiff as old women and as fat as a lot of aldermen by the time we reach Australia unless we take exercise of some kind during the voyage. Can't we manage to get some cricket practice in some way?"

George thought we could do so, and a little later we held an interview with Capt. Morse, who was one of the best fellows that I ever sailed with. The result was on the following morning half a dozen sailors were set to work to roof over and wall in with canvas the rear end of the quarter deck promenade, upon the larboard side of the ship, which being done prevented the balls from going into the sea. This, when completed, gave us an enclosed cricket alley of about forty feet long, eight feet wide and ten feet high. The wickets were set in the extreme edge of this alley, the bowler facing the opening of the tent, twenty feet beyond it, so he had plenty of room to swing his arm and ample distance in which to break the ball in spite of the smooth decks and the rolling of the ship. A fifty-foot stretch of cocoa matting that Mr. Wright had thoughtfully provided gave a surface upon which to bowl almost as goad as genuine turf, and each day from that time on until the voyage was over several hours were put in by the boys at practice, the exercise proving to be just what was needed, the members of both teams, thanks to this, reaching Australia in good playing condition. After our cricket alley had been built the time did not hang as heavily on our hands as before, and between practice at the English national game, cards, music, conversation and reading, the days glided by both swiftly and pleasantly. The weather became very warm soon after we left Honolulu and many of the boys preferred sleeping, in the steamer chairs upon the deck rather than in the close staterooms that had been allotted to them. The decks at this time presented some queer sights, and the practical jokers in the party managed to extract a lot of fun at the expense of the sleepers. At 5:30 in the morning the slumberers were awakened by the sailors who started in to wash down the decks, when they would retire to their staterooms, doff their pajamas and return en natural to the vicinity to the smoker, where there were two perforated nozzles, and get their salt water baths. A sponge-off in fresh water followed and then a cup of black coffee and a soda cracker that was provided by the steward, and that stayed their stomachs until the welcome sound of the gong called us to breakfast.

We crossed the Equator some time between 1 and 2 o'clock on the morning of December 1st, and the occasion was celebrated by a musicale in the cabin under the supervision of Frank Lincoln, during the progress of which everybody who could help entertain in the least was pressed into service. A thrilling account of his own experiences during the Sepoy mutiny in India and his adventures during the celebrated siege of Lucknow, told by Gen. Strange, proved most interesting. Later on at the bow of the ship the whole party assembled and whiled the time away with song and story until Capt. Morse came himself to inform us that we had crossed the line and were now safe on the Southern Seas. I did not see the line nor did I even feel the bottom of the steamer scrape it as she went over, but it may be that owing to the darkness and the music I noticed neither of these things.

Early in the morning of December 2d it began blowing hard and by the time the noon hour had arrived the steamer was rolling about like a bass-wood log in a mountain torrent. There were some familiar faces missing from the tables at meal time that day and the stewards who waited upon those whose stomachs were still in eating order worked under difficulties, it being always a question of where they would bring up when they entered the cabin door. All that day:

It was rough, mighty rough, But the boys they stood by, And they ran on a bluff On the grub on the sly,

while the sick ones that lay in their staterooms were hoping and praying they'd die.

That night there was no comfort to be had on deck, which was wet and slippery, so a mock trial was held in the cabin that afforded considerable amusement, General Strange acting as the presiding judge and Sir James Willoughby as the prisoner at the bar. Charges had been preferred to the effect that Sir James was not a peer of the realm as he had represented himself, and that he was carrying concealed weapons in violation of the ship's law. John Ward acted as counsel for the defendant, Col. House as prosecuting attorney, and Jimmy Forgarty as court crier. The witnesses were all sworn not to tell the truth, and anything but the truth, and as a result there were such whoppers told as would have made the original Annanias turn green with envy. Thanks to the eloquence of John Ward, however, Sir James was acquitted with all honor, but that trial was one of the most amusing incidents of the voyage.

The spell of heavy weather lasted but a few hours, after which time the wind died away, the waves calmed down and the sun shone as brilliantly as ever. On the night of December 30th and while the weather still left much to be desired, we sighted the Northernmost Island of the Samoan group, which are famous by reason of the destruction of a fleet of United States cruisers anchored in one of the harbors by a tornado, a native insurrection that threatened to bring about war between the United States and Germany, and as the home and burial place of Robert Louis Stevenson, the famous writer. Ed Crane and several others of the party and myself were sitting on deck and under the shelter of an awning watching for a glimpse of the land that we all knew was not far away, when a little after 11 o'clock we ran suddenly under the lee of a mountainous ridge of land that loomed up like a huge shadow in the uncertain light, and almost immediately found ourselves in smooth water.

Walking toward the bow of the boat we reached there just as a green signal light was flashed from the bridge. Before us lay the land, and as we watched, a light twinkled on the shore nearly five miles away in answer to our signal. Slowly we steamed toward it, the signal lights flashing their messages at short intervals through the darkness until we reached the harbor, where we lay about half a mile from the land until a sloop and a dory reached us with the mail and passengers for Auckland. Of both the land and the natives we had but a glimpse, one of the latter, a red-headed and stalwart specimen of his race, clambering to the steamer's deck in order to get a receipt for the mail and a glassful of gin, both of which were given him by the purser. The former he stowed away somewhere in his scanty clothing and the latter he gulped down as though it were water, after which he swung himself over the rail and disappeared from sight in the darkness. A few moments later we had left Samoan Islands behind us and were again tossing on the foam-topped waves. Samoa was left not far behind, however, when the weather turned colder and before many hours had passed we were all glad to change our clothing of a tropical weight for garments that were much heavier, and to seek comfortable places in the cabin at night rather than the open deck. Even the cricket practice had begun to get monotonous, and we were all looking forward with pleasure to the time when we might once more feel the solid land beneath our feet.

It was with feelings of delight therefore that we heard early on the morning of December 9th that we were within sight of our destination and that we should be on shore, barring accident, by the noon hour. Standing on deck long before it was time for breakfast, we feasted our eyes on the green hills that were in plain sight, and then fell to wondering what sort of a welcome awaited us in the New Zealand seaport that we were rapidly nearing.

While at the breakfast table that morning Capt. Morse was presented by Gen. Strange, on behalf of the passengers, with a purse of $200 as a testimonial to his skill, kindness and uniform courtesy. The big Captain was taken by surprise, but he acknowledged the gift in a brief and manly speech that brought out a round of applause from the listeners.

The harbor at Auckland is reached by means of a winding passage walled in by hills of volcanic origin, and the bay itself is second only to that of Sydney in beauty, the sides of the high hills that wall it in being dotted here and there by pretty residences of white stone, surrounded by broad porticos and handsomely arranged grounds. The town was as quiet as a country funeral and this we marveled at until we were informed that we had lost a day from our calendar and that instead of being Saturday as we had thought, it was Sunday. Leigh Lynch, who had been detained at Sydney, had sent his cousin, Will Lynch, to meet us and as the steamer was made fast to the dock he came on board with a bouquet of flowers for the different members of the party. Several newspaper men, who followed him shortly afterward, expressed their regret that we had not arrived the day before, as then we could have played to some eight or ten thousand people. We had expected to remain in Auckland but a few hours and were therefore agreeably surprised when Capt. Morse informed us that the Alameda would remain there to coal until 5 o'clock the next afternoon.

After a good dinner at the Imperial Hotel, Mrs. Anson and myself, accompanied by others of the party, drove about Auckland and its environs and though a drizzling rain was falling we found much to admire and to wonder at in the vicinity of that New Zealand seaport. Soon after sundown the skies cleared and that evening we enjoyed ourselves in strolling about the streets, being determined to make the most of the short time on shore that was allotted to us.

The next day dawned bright and beautiful, and, after paying a visit to the City Hall, where we received a warm welcome from Mayor Devore, we proceeded to get into our base-ball uniforms and prepare for the game that was to take place that afternoon.

During the noon hour the local band came marching down the principal street to the dock, and shortly afterward it started at the head of a procession of carriages containing the ball players and two tally-hos containing the passengers of the Alameda, who attended the game as our guests. The enclosure in which we played that day was as handsome as any that we saw in New Zealand, the grounds being as level as a billiard table and the turf as smooth and soft as velvet. The game was one that was remarkable on both sides for its heavy batting, the ball rolling away over the smooth surface of the outfield in a way that almost broke the hearts of the fielders and at the same time gave them more exercise than they had had for weeks. The 4,500 people that witnessed the contest waxed enthusiastic over the heavy batting of the visitors from the "States" and also over the splendid fielding. Baldwin was in the box for us in this game and pitched great ball, Crane doing the twirling for the All-Americas. The Chicago: proved to be the winners and the score, 22 to 13, shows the cannonading done on both sides. This was a good game for both teams to play when the fact is taken into consideration that the players still had their sea legs on and simply shows the good condition that the cricket practice on board the ship had kept them in.

When the "Alameda" left the dock at Auckland that afternoon, a crowd of at least 2,000 people had assembled to see us off. With Sydney 1,243 miles distant we still had quite a voyage before us. That night we skirted the coast until after the darkness had fallen and watched the green hills that seemed to rise abruptly from the water's edge. When the morning came and we once more sought the deck there was no land in sight and nothing to be seen save the watery waste of the ocean that stretched away to the horizon on every side. We had a rough voyage from Auckland and were glad enough when, on the afternoon of December 14th, we sighted the Australian coast. At five o'clock that evening, after a hearty dinner, we again assembled on the deck to watch the headlands that grew each moment more and more distinct, and' soon afterward a tugboat came to meet us, bringing the pilot and Manager Leigh Lynch, the latter notifying us as soon as he could gain the deck of the great reception that was awaiting us at Sydney.

The harbor at Syndey is a delight to the eye, and as we steamed through the Heads with the white-winged gulls circling around our masts and the dolphins playing about our bow, we drank in the beautiful sight with greedy eyes. Several steamers laden with gentlemen and ladies, and with bands of music playing our national airs, steamed down the harbor to meet us, and long ere we reached the quay we were surrounded by a fleet of small craft gaily decked in colors and carrying crowds of cheering and kerchief-waving people. Our national colors were to be seen everywhere, even the lighthouse on the point being draped from top to bottom in clouds of red, white and blue bunting. The Stars and Stripes greeted the eye on every hand, and, let me say right here, that there is no place where the flag of our country appears so handsome to the eyes of an American as when it greets him in some foreign harbor. The storm of cheers that greeted us from the throats of the enthusiastic Sydneyites we answered as best we could, and the strain upon our vocal organs was something terrific. Viewed from the steamer's deck the city of Sydney and the beautiful harbor, surrounded by the high hills and bold headlands, presented a most entrancing picture. Clear down to the water's edge extend beautifully-kept private grounds and public parks, and these, with grandly built residences of white stone, with tower-capped walls and turrets that stand among the trees upon the hillside, glistening in the sunshine, made the whole picture seem like a scene from fairyland. At the quay there was another crowd of cheering people, and it was with difficulty that we made our way to the four-horse tally-ho coaches and to the Oxford Hotel, where quarters had been arranged for us.

The entrance to the Oxford Hotel, as well as the dining-room, was handsomely decorated in red, white and blue, evergreens and colored lanterns, and, after receiving a brief greeting from U. S. Consul Griffin, we retired to our rooms to prepare for the formal welcome to Australia that was to be given to us that night at the Royal Theater.

We were to spend some little time in Australia, and that we had fallen among friends was evident at once from the reception that had been accorded us. It was a relief to know that our voyage was at least over for a time and to feel the solid land once more beneath our feet, though we parted with Capt. Morse with regret, he having endeared himself to us all by the uniform kindness and courtesy that he had shown our party on the long ocean trip.



CHAPTER XXIII. WITH OUR FRIENDS IN THE ANTIPODES.

That night after the gentlemen of the party had donned their dress suits and the ladies their best bibs and tuckers, we repaired in a body to the Royal Theater, where a large and fashionable audience had assembled to bid us welcome. The theater, presided over at that time by Jimmy Williamson, an American, was handsomely decorated for the occasion with American flags, and as we took our places in the private boxes and in the section of the dress circle reserved for us, we were greeted with round after round of applause.

After the closing act of "Struck Oil," in which both Mr. Williamson and his wife appeared, our entire party passed through the box circle to the stage, upon, which we were arranged in a semi-circle facing the audience, which cheered us heartily as the curtain rose.

Just as the curtain went up a kid in the gallery, who must have been an American, who at some time in his career had seen me play, and to whom my face and form were familiar, cocked his head over the rail and shouted in tones that could be heard all over the theater, "'Rah for Baby Anson," a salutation that came so unexpectedly that it almost took my breath away and that caused both audience and players to laugh heartily. Mr. Daniel O'Connor, a member of the Australian Parliament, then introduced us to the audience in a brief address that was full of kind allusions to the country that we came from and eulogistic of our fame as ball players, he referring particularly to our pluck in coming so far without any guarantee against financial loss or artistic failure except our own confidence in the beauties of our National Game and in the sport-loving spirit of the Australian people. He tendered us a hearty welcome on behalf of the Colonies, and bespoke for us a generous patronage on behalf of the lovers of square sports, both in Sydney and elsewhere.

To this address Mr. Spalding responded for the American ball players in happy fashion, his remarks being greeted with generous applause on the part of the audience, after which we returned to our seats to witness an after-piece illustrating in farcical style the evils of Chinese immigration, and then, returning to the hotel, we were introduced to many of the leading business men of the city, remaining up until a late hour.

At eleven o'clock the next morning we again assembled in the office of the Oxford for the purpose of making a formal call upon Mayor Harris at the City Hall, and as we drove through the principal streets to our destination we were greeted all along the line by cheering and enthusiastic crowds. We were received in the Council Chamber of the City Hall by the Mayor, who was dressed in his official robe of purple and ermine, and who escorted us across the hall to his chamber, where an elaborate lunch awaited us, and the champagne corks were soon popping in lively fashion. The Mayor's speech of welcome was what we Americans call a "dandy," and I wish right now that I had a copy of it in order that I might reproduce it for the benefit of my readers. He stated among other things that, while he did not understand the game of baseball thoroughly himself, yet he thought well enough of it to predict that in time Australia would have a league of her own, the professionals of which would be able to hold their own with the professionals of the United States. He then tendered us the freedom of the city during our stay, and bade us make ourselves at home. This address was responded to in our behalf by U. S. Consul Griffin, after which his Honor again arose to remark that so long as America treated Australia with the kindness and consideration that they had in the past, the Australians would do their best to make it pleasant for their American cousins while they were on Australian soil.

"My reason for believing that our athletes will emulate your ball players," concluded the Mayor, "are manifold. In the first place, we have adopted your American ideas of trading, and we have managed to scrape up material enough to beat you! best oarsman," here his Honor turned toward Ned Hanlan, the ex-champion sculler, who had quietly entered the room and taken a seat near Mr. Spalding, the reference securing a cheer for the modest little athlete from the members of our party, "and," continued the Mayor, after the applause had subsided, "if all Americans will yield the palm with as good grace as Mr. Hanlan has done, we will entertain as high an opinion of them as we now do of Mr. Hanlan." After responses to the Mayor's address had been made by Messrs. Spalding and Lynch, and a dozen or more toasts proposed and drunk, we gave the Mayor of Sydney three cheers and a tiger and returned to our hotel, feeling certain that if all Australians were like the ones we had met thus far, a good time in Australia was assured to us.

We played our first game in Australia that afternoon upon the grounds of the Sydney Cricket Association, and it is but fair to say that we had nothing in the United States at that time, nor have we now, that will compare with them either for beauty or convenience. The playing field, with its covering of green turf, was as level as a floor and was surrounded by sloping lawns that were bright with flowering shrubs, while the club houses were models of their kind. The great annual foot-races at Botany that afternoon, and the horse-races elsewhere proved to be strong rival attractions, but in spite of them, and of the threatening weather, 5,500 people had assembled to see how the American National Game was played. Fortunately the members of bath teams were on their mettle, and the result was a game full of exciting features from start to finish, the pitching of Teller for the Chicagos and Healy for the All-Americas being of the gilt-edged order, while the fielding and base-running of both teams was up to the mark. At the end of the first inning the game was a tie, each team having scored four runs, and it so remained until the ninth inning, when the All-Americas sent a man across the plate and scored the winning run in what proved to be one of the hardest fought games of the entire trip. At the end of the sixth inning there was an interval of fifteen minutes, and during that time we were received at the Association Club House by Lord Carrington, who was at that time Governor of New South Wales, and who gave, us a warm welcome to the Colonies and wished us every success in introducing the game in Australia. After Mr. Spalding had thanked Lord Carrington for his good wishes on behalf of the players, and we had cheered everybody from Lord and Lady Carrington to Queen Victoria, we returned to finish the game, being heartily cheered by the crowds as we again took up our positions on the diamond. That exhibition gave the game quite an impetus in Australia, where it is now quite popular, thanks, I believe, to the visit of the American ball players.

The ride back from the grounds was an enjoyable one and after dinner there was a general exodus from the hotel on the part of the tourists, who were determined to see everything that there was to be seen and to let no opportunity in that line escape them. Just how Mrs. Anson and myself passed the evening I have forgotten, but that we passed it pleasantly I am certain, for how could it be otherwise in a place where everyone had combined apparently to make our visit a pleasant one, and where nothing was left undone that could add to our comfort and pleasure.

The following day, Sunday, was bright and beautiful, and in parties we drove over the city and its suburbs, going, among other places, to Coogee Bay, the fashionable watering resort of the Sydney people, and a beautiful place, too, it is. Sydney Bay was in itself a sight well worth seeing, when viewed from the surrounding hills, and the "Point," from which a magnificent view is to be obtained, impressed one with its rugged grandeur. Many of the residences of Sydney are extremely handsome and picturesque, and Mrs. Anson and I picked out more than one during the day's outing that we should like to have owned, that is, providing that we could have moved both the house and its surroundings back to Chicago.

The next morning the Chicago and All-America teams played their first game of cricket on the Sydney grounds, Messrs. Spalding, Wright, Earl and George Wade doing the greater part of the bowling, and this game resulted in a victory for the All-Americas by a score of 67 to 33. I had been bragging considerably during the trip in regard to my abilities as a cricketer, and was therefore greatly chagrined when I struck at the first ball that was bowled to me and went out on a little pop-up fly to Fogarty. This caused the boys to guy me unmercifully, but I consoled myself with the reflection that they had to guy somebody, and if it were not me then somebody else would have to be the sufferer.

That second afternoon we played our second game of ball in Sydney, in the presence of some 3,000 people, the batteries being Baldwin and myself for the Chicagos and Healy and Earl for the All-Americas. It was another pretty exhibition on the part of both teams, the All-Americas finally winning by a score of 7 to 5.

We played our first game with the Australian Cricketers the next day, and, though we played seventeen men against their eleven, we were ignominiously beaten, the Americans making 87 runs while the Australians ran their score up to 115, for only six wickets, the game, which had begun at eleven o'clock in the morning, being called at four p.m., to allow of another game of base-ball, which resulted at the end of five innings in another victory for the All-Americas by a score of 6 to 2, both teams being too tired to do themselves justice. The cricket game was the last of its kind that we played in Australia, and I am confident now that had we been as strong in bowling as in fielding we would have beaten the Australians at their own game, though our batting on this occasion was also decidedly on the weak side.

That night we attended a banquet tendered us by the citizens of Sydney, at the Town Hall. Two hundred plates were laid in the reception hall of the big building, the columns, dome, and windows of which were almost hidden by the English and American flags with which they were draped. The marble floor was covered with soft carpets and great banks of cut flowers and rare plants were arranged on every side, while at the end of the hall a raised platform had been built upon which a musical and literary entertainment was given after the banquet. That banquet at Sydney was certainly a memorable affair, and one that overshadowed in magnificence all that had gone before. The toasts, which included "The Queen," "The President," "The Governor," "Our Guests," "The Ladies," "The Press," and "The Chairman," were responded to by U. S. Consul Griffin, Daniel O'Connor, M. P., John M. Ward, Leigh Lynch, Newton McMillan, E. G. Allen of the Sydney Star, and others, after which followed a musicale in which some of the best amateur and professional talent in Sydney took part, the cornet solos of Mrs. Leigh Lynch being the bright particular feature of the entertainment. Mrs. Lynch, who was formerly a member of the Berger Family of Bell Ringers, is a most accomplished musician, and one that afterwards helped us to while away many an hour when time would otherwise have hung heavily on our hands.

The next afternoon we were to depart for Melbourne, and as we had nothing else to do we spent the greater part of the time in strolling about the streets and in bidding farewell to the many friends that we had made in Sydney. With button-hole badges of the Stars and Stripes and red, white and blue bands on the soft straw hats that we wore, it was an easy matter for the Australians to distinguish us wherever we went. At the Grosvenor Hotel we all assembled about an hour before departure, at the invitation of the Hon. Daniel O'Connor, to bid farewell to himself and to other prominent representatives of New South Wales. Here we were handsomely entertained, and when we left to take our seats in the special train that had been prepared, it was with cheers that fairly shook the rafters. My memories of Sydney are all pleasant ones, and it was with sincere feelings of regret that I left the many friends that I had made while there.

The coaches in which we journeyed to Melbourne were built in the English style, with compartments, and are not nearly so comfortable as the sleeping and drawing-room cars to be found in America, and had the old gentleman been with us I am afraid he would have kicked loud and long over the poker playing facilities that they afforded. The road itself is excellently built, however, and the country through which it runs rich, fertile and well wooded. It was a little after nightfall when we got supper at a small way station, after which we proceeded to rest as best we could. At 5:30 in the morning we were routed out on the borders of the Colony to have our baggage examined by the custom house authorities, which caused Mrs. Anson and myself but little annoyance, as we had left all our dynamite at home on the piano. At 6 o'clock we were again on the way and at eleven o'clock that morning we pulled into the station on Spencer street in Melbourne, where quite a crowd was waiting to greet us.

The Reception Committee, made up of American residents of Melbourne and members of the Victorian Cricket Association, met us with four-in-hand drags appropriately trimmed with the American colors, and as we entered them and drove up Collins street we felt that we were the observed of all observers. At the Town Hall we were received by Mayor Benjamin and the members of the City Council, and here a crowd of several thousand people had assembled to bid us welcome, which they did in the hearty fashion of the Australian people, who are as warm-hearted and as hospitable a class as any people that I ever met. In the audience hall up stairs, was a great pipe organ, and there we were treated to some beautiful music by the town organist, Mr. David Lee. The rendering of "Home, Sweet Home," carried us back again to the land that we had left, and as the strains of "God Save the Queen" rang through the hall we stood with uncovered heads until the music died away along the lofty corridors. In the Mayor's private room a generous lunch was awaiting us, and among those present to receive us were the Hon. Mr. Choppin, Consul General of the United States at the Melbourne Exposition; Mr. Smyth, Acting Consul; the Hon. J. B. Patterson, D. Gaunson, and Messrs. Smith and Pierce, together with a large delegation of the lovers of outdoor sports, including cricketers and base-ball players. The Mayor's speech of welcome was a plain and hearty one, and was followed by addresses of welcome by the Hon. Mr. Smith, of the Victoria Cricket Association; Acting United States Consul Smyth and Mr. S. P. Lord, the latter being introduced as "an old Colonist, who came from America in 1853," and a "base-bailer." Mr. Spalding followed in a brief speech, expressing our appreciation of the cordial welcome that had been accorded us and hoping that the Victorians would take as kindly to the game itself as they had to its exponents, after which Captain Ward and myself were called upon to say something, which we did to the best of our ability, though I somehow have never managed to acquire fame in the speech-making line, and would rather play ball at any time than make even a few remarks, that is, unless I could talk to an umpire.

Brief addresses by Mayor Wardell, Town Clerk Fitzgibbon and Mr. David Scott followed, after which we were driven to the Grand Hotel, where we found most comfortable quarters and a good dinner awaiting us.

This hotel was in close proximity to the exposition buildings, the Treasury building, the Parliament building and the Fitzroy Gardens, and was convenient to a great many of the objects and places of interest with which Melbourne abounds. One feature of the hotel, and one that greatly pleased the majority of our tourists, was the fact that a number of pretty colonial girls were employed in nearly every department, they waiting on the table and taking the place of the bellboys, in fact, doing everything except to fill the positions of porter and baggage-smasher.

That evening, at the invitation of Manager Musgrove, a partner of Mr. Williamson of the Royal Theater, in Sydney, we occupied a full section of the dress circle in the Princess Theater, where we witnessed a splendid production of "The Princess Ida," by an English company. At the end of the third act we were called out to drink the health of Mr. Musgrove, who informed us that the door of his theater were open to us at all times.

It was after midnight when we returned to the hotel, and so tired were we that we were glad to go at once to our rooms without stopping for the customary chat in the office or corridors, knowing that we had yet to make our first appearance as ball players before a Melbourne crowd, and must rest up if we wished to make even a creditable showing.



CHAPTER XXIV. BASEBALL PLAYING AND SIGHTSEEING IN AUSTRALIA.

We played our first game at Melbourne on Saturday, December 22d, the second day after our arrival from Sydney, and in the presence of one of the largest crowds that ever assembled at the Melbourne Oval, the handsomest of their kind in Australia. The surroundings were of the most beautiful character and the day itself as perfect as any one could have desired for base-ball purposes. The lawn in front of the Club House was thronged with ladies in light attire, and the many-hued sunshades that they carried gave to it the appearance of an animated flower garden. The Club House balconies were crowded and even the roof had been pre-empted by the ladies and their escorts as a coign of vantage from which to view the game. The grand stand was filled to overflowing and the crowd that overflowed from it encircled the field, extending from the grand stand clear around to the Club House grounds. The scene was indeed an inspiring one, and it is not to be wondered that a good exhibition of the beauties of the game were given under such circumstances. The base-running was of the most daring character, the fielding sharp on the part of both teams, and the batting heavy. Baldwin and Crane were both at their best and pitched in superb style, while the exhibition of base-running that was given by some of the boys brought the onlookers fairly to their feet and they cheered themselves hoarse in their excitement.

Up to the seventh inning the score was a tie, but we managed to get a man across the plate in the seventh inning, as a result of Burns' three-bagger, and Baldwin' single, and another in the eighth, the result of a single by Sullivan and a long right-field hit for three bases by myself, and that I foolishly tried to make a home run on, being put out at the plate by Brown's magnificent throw from the field. The game finally resulted in a victory for Chicago by a score of 5 to 3, and leaving the field we congratulated ourselves on the fact that both at Sydney and Melbourne we had played first-class ball.

Supper parties and banquets were now becoming every-day occurrences with us, and that night we were handsomely entertained by an English actor of note, Mr. Charles Warner, who was at that time touring the colonies, the place selected for the entertainment being the Maison Dore, the swell restaurant of Melbourne. Here we spent a very pleasant evening until it was again time to retire.

The next morning, in the big reading room of the hotel, the boys were given some information by Mr. Spalding that I was already acquainted with, viz., that we should continue our trip around the world, returning home by the way of Egypt, the Mediterranean and Continental Europe. In spite of the fact that it was Sunday morning, this announcement was greeted with a burst of applause by the players, many of whom, even in their wildest dreamings, had never thought that such a trip would be possible for them.

After giving the players some good advice regarding their habits and physical health, Mr. Spalding stated that he wished to land every member of the party in New York sound and well and with only pleasant recollections of the tour, and that he hoped that all would, co-operate with him to that end. That morning the proposed trip was about the only subject of conversation among the members of the party, and pleasant indeed were the anticipations of one and all concerning it.

There was scarcely a spot of interest in or about Melbourne that we did not visit, the weather being delightful, while so constantly were we being entertained that there was scarcely an evening that our dress suits were given a chance to rest. It was the day before Christmas—not the night before—that we played our second game of base-ball in Melbourne, and the crowd, while not so large as that which witnessed the first game, was still of goodly proportions, some 6,000 people passing through the gates. Ryan pitched for the Chicagos and Healy and Crane for the All-Americas on this occasion, and all three of them were pounded in a lively fashion, there being a perfect fusillade of base hits on both sides, and the hard hitting seemed to the liking of the spectators, who cheered every drive to the outfield frantically. In spite of the hard hitting the game was closely contested, the All-Americas finally bearing off the honors by a score of 15 to 13. Following the game Prof. Bartholomew gave his first balloon ascension and parachute drop in Australia, a performance that was new to the Australians, and that they watched with almost breathless interest.

Christmas day in Melbourne the weather was terrifically hot and the lightest sort of summer attire even was uncomfortable. It seemed strange to us to think that at home on that same day there was probably snow on the ground and an icy wind blowing. Christmas in a hot country somehow does not seem like Christmas at all, an opinion that was shared by both Mrs. Anson and myself. That afternoon at three o'clock we departed for Adelaide, where we were scheduled to play three games, and this time we were delighted to find that "Mann boudoir cars" had been provided for us instead of English compartment coaches.

We missed the ladies on the trip, they having been left at Melbourne because of the heat, as had Ed Crane, with whom the hot weather did not seem to agree. At Ballarat, about four hours' distance from Melbourne, where we were scheduled to play a game on our return, we found 'a reception committee at the depot to meet us, together with a number of ladies. The country through which we journeyed that afternoon was fairly attractive, but thinly settled and literally overrun with that pest of the Australian farmer, the rabbits, which, like good race-horses, seemed to come in all shapes, color and size. The country swarmed with them and for the first time we began to realize what an immense damage they were capable of doing to the growing crops in that section.

It was about half-past ten o'clock the next morning when we reached Adelaide, and so hot that a Fourth of July day in St. Louis would have seemed like Arctic weather by comparison. At the depot we found United States Consul Murphy and a committee of citizens in waiting, and were at once driven to the City Hall, where Mayor Shaw made us welcome to the city. The usual spread and speeches followed, after which we were driven to the hotel. That afternoon we played our first game on the Adelaide Oval, which was the equal of either the Sydney or Melbourne grounds, so far as the actual playing grounds were concerned, though far inferior to them in buildings and natural surroundings. Owing to the intense heat and the fact that it was the opening day of the great race meeting at Melbourne there were only about 2,000 people present, and they witnessed a game remarkable for its heavy batting, both Teller and Healy being severely punished. The game went to the credit of the All-Americas by a score of 19 to 14.

That night our party occupied the Governor's box in the Royal Theater, where we attracted far more attention than did the play, the house being a crowded one.

The next morning we were the guests of Mayor Shaw, who took us for a drive in a big four-horse drag, and this proved a delightful experience to us all, the Sea Beach road, over which we drove, being cool and comfortable. Ten miles out we stopped at the wine yard of Thomas Hardy & Sons, who were at that time the most extensive grape and fruit raisers in Australia. Here we were shown over the immense wine yards and wine cellar, after which we drove to Henley Beach, returning in time for the game that afternoon.

At this second game the attendance was somewhat better than the first, and with Baldwin pitching for Chicago and Healy and Ward for All-America, we managed to turn the tables on our conquerors of the day before and win by a score of 12 to 9.

The next day was a holiday, and of these the Australians have many, it being the fifty-second anniversary of South Australia's existence as a colony, and as we were to leave in the afternoon we played our farewell game in the morning, play being called at ten o'clock. With Ryan in the box for Chicago and Simpson for All-America we won the easiest sort of a game by a score of II to 4, having Sir William Robinson, Governor of the Colony, for a spectator during the last four innings. After the game he came out on the grounds and shook hands with us all, complimenting us in a nice little speech on the skill that we had shown and expressing his own liking for the game that he had that morning seen for the first time.

That afternoon we left for Ballarat, the great gold-mining center of Australia, and at one time famous as the home of the bushrangers who for years terrorized that section of the country.

It was six o'clock in the morning when we arrived there, and we were just climbing into the drag that was awaiting us when some one missed Tom Daly. After a search he was found fast asleep in one of the compartments of the car, and being awakened was released by an obliging guard, looking a bit the worse for wear. In the early gray of the dawning we reached Craig's Hotel, where lunch had been arranged for us, after partaking which we were driven to the Botanical Gardens, the roadway winding along the shores of a beautiful lake. The gardens were well worth a visit, and after spending a brief half hour in admiring the flowers and statuary, we were driven back to the hotel for breakfast, stopping on the way for a plunge in the great Ballarat Swimming Aquarium. After breakfast we were driven to the Barton Gold Mines, situated on the edge of the town, going down to a depth of ii,000 feet after we had attired ourselves in overalls, slouch hats and other nondescript disguises. From the mine we were driven to the Town Hall, of West Ballarat, Ballarat being divided into two municipalities, West and East, where we met with the usual Australian welcome at the hands of Mayor Macdonald, thence to East Ballarat, where Mayor Ellsworth did the honors, the latter afterwards accompanying us on a visit to the Ballarat Orphan Asylum, where an invitation was given to the youngsters to the number of 200 to witness the game that afternoon, and that they were all on hand is a certainty.

The crowd that attended the game was 4,500 strong, and they saw the All-Americas win a rather easy game by a score of 11 to 7, the boys being too nearly tired out to play good ball. The ascent and fall of Professor Bartholomew was, however, the sensation of the day, the parachute failing to sustain his weight in that high altitude, and as a result he came down with great speed, and, striking a cornice of a building in the business district, was laid up for a month, it being a lucky thing for him that he was not killed outright. At seven o'clock that night we left for Melbourne, arriving there some four hours later in an all but used up condition.

The next day, Sunday, our whole party started for a drive of twenty-five miles over the mountains in a big four-horse drag, we being the guests for that day of Mr. J. K. Downer, a wealthy citizen of Melbourne. Through a rolling and well-settled country we bowled along until we reached the foot-hills, that were green and well-wooded, the clear notes of Mrs. Leigh Lynch's cornet every now and then waking the echoes. After three hours' ride we reached Fern Glen, the residence of a Mr. Bruce, a friend of the gentleman whose guests we were, and to whose broad veranda we were soon made welcome. The scenery here was beautiful, the house itself being situated in a rift of the mountains and surrounded by giant trees on every side, the grounds about being possessed of great natural beauty. After enjoying a splendid lunch provided for the occasion at Melbourne, and sent out ahead by wagon, we strolled through the beautiful glen, with its great ferns that arched the pathway, and the roots of which were watered by a little mountain stream.

After an extempore entertainment we again climbed to our seats in the drag and were driven back to Melbourne, stopping en route at the stock farm of J. H. Miller, who had gone into the business of breeding American trotters, and who again persisted in wining and dining us before he would let us go. "The Travelers' Rest," "The Golden Swan," "The Bull's Head Inn," and other resorts of a like kind were stopped at on our way back, and it was eleven o'clock at night when we were finally set down at the doors of the Grand Hotel, having spent one of the most enjoyable days since our arrival in Melbourne.

A great day's program of sport had been prepared for Monday, the last day of the year, in which cricket, baseball and foot-ball were all to have had an inning. The weather, however, interfered with the base-ball and cricket part of the program. The foot-ball game between the Carleton and St. Kilda foot-ball teams proved to be a most interesting contest, however, and one that we were glad to have the opportunity of witnessing, a heavy shower driving us back to the hotel before we could indulge in either base-ball or cricket.

Two games were scheduled for New Year's day, but only one of these was played and that in the morning, the attendance being 2,500, and the Chicagos winning by a score of 14 to 7, Tener pitching for us and Healy for the All-Americas. That same day there were 4,000 people at the races and probably as many more at the various cricket matches and athletic games going on in the city and vicinity, so it can readily be seen that Melbourne was a decidedly sporty place and that we had pretty hard competition to go up against, even for New Year's day. After luncheon at the cricket grounds we were treated to an exhibition of rope-skipping and boomerang throwing by a lot of aborigines that was little short of wonderful, and that must be seen to be appreciated. The natives could make these curved pieces of wood do all kinds of seemingly impossible things, while for us they would simply do nothing, but I expect that with a set of billiard balls several of our party could have made them look as much like monkeys as they did us with their boomerangs.

We were booked to sail from Port Melbourne for Ceylon on Monday, June 7th, and Saturday afternoon we played our farewell game in the Victoria capital before a crowd that tested the capacity of the grounds, the gate count showing that 11,000 people had paid their way into the enclosure. The program for the afternoon was a varied one, a two-inning game between the Australian Cricketers and the All-America team being the starter, and in this the American players easily demonstrated their superiority. Next came a game of foot-ball between the Port Melbourne and Carleton teams that was played under a modification of the old Rugby rules, and that proved close and exciting. A four-inning game between Chicago and All-America followed, Baldwin and Daly and Crane and Earle being the batteries, and it is safe to assert that a prettier exhibition of base-running and fielding was never witnessed in Australia than the one given on that occasion. With not a fielding error on either side my boys won by a score of 5 to 0, Pettit finally ending the game with a splendid running catch of Earle's long fly to right field, a performance that the spectators cheered again and again.

An exhibition of long distance throwing followed, Crane, Williamson and Pfeffer attempting to beat the Australian record of 126 yards 3 inches, for throwing a five and one-half ounce cricket ball, and this feat Crane accomplished, he sending the ball 128 yards 10 1/2 inches, a performance that the crowd appreciated.

At three o'clock on Monday afternoon, having said farewell to all of our friends in Melbourne, we took the train for Port Melbourne, seven miles distant, and were soon assigned to our staterooms on board of the "Salier," which was to begin her voyage the next morning.

The scene about the dock where the "Salier" lay that afternoon was an impressive one, the Turks and Hindoos, with their dark skins, red turbans and bright costumes, the circling seabirds with their peculiar cries, and the many craft of various kinds that moved hither and thither over the blue waters, all combining to make a picture that once seen can never be forgotten.

We left Australia with many genuine regrets. In the matter of hospitality that country easily stands at the head of the list of all of those that we visited, and if we could have shot a kangaroo or two before our departure and run up against a party of bushrangers, black-bearded and daring, even though they had managed to relieve us of a few of our valuables, we should have been made happy, but alas! the bushrangers, like the bad men of our own glorious West, had been wiped out by the march of civilization, and even the kangaroo had taken to the woods when he heard that we were coming, so we bore our disappointment as best we could, trusting for better luck in case we should ever be so fortunate as to again visit Her Majesty's Australian Colonies.



CHAPTER XXV. AFLOAT ON THE INDIAN SEA.

The "Salier," which was one of the German Lloyd line of steamers, sailed from Port Melbourne at daybreak on the morning of January 8th, 1889, and before many of us had put in our appearance on deck, although we were awakened long before by the cries of the sailors and the usual noise and bustle that precedes the departure of a steamer from her dock in all parts of the world. Long before we had left Port Melbourne out of sight, however, we had assembled at the rail to wave our last adieus to the many friends who had come down from Melbourne to see us off. The "Salier" was a delightful vessel and one that was most comfortably equipped, as are all of the vessels of this line, and the quarter deck, with its open-windowed smoking and card-rooms, soon became the chosen lounging place of the boys by day and the sleeping place of many of them by night, they preferring to don pajamas anti sleep in the easy steamer chairs rather than to seek the seclusion of the staterooms, which, as a rule, were hot and sultry. Captain Tallenhorst, who commanded the "Salier," was a fine fellow, and both he and his officers were inclined to do pleasant one, and a pleasant one indeed it proved.

In the steerage we carried a mixed lot of emigrants from all sections of the world, among them being Chinamen, Hindoos, Turks, Cingalese, Italians and Germans, and to walk through their quarters and listen to the strange languages that they spoke was to get a very good idea of the confusion that must have reigned when the building of the tower of Babel was in progress, and gave us at the same time a chance to study some of the manners and customs of a people that were strange to us.

The meals that were served on board the "Salier" were an improvement on those of the "Alameda," though we had found no fault with those given us on the latter, but there was one drawback to our enjoyment of them, however, and that was that the waiters spoke nothing but German, and consequently those of us who were unfamiliar with the language had some difficulty in making ourselves understood, our efforts to make known our wants by the sign language often resulting in ludicrous blunders. Fred Pfeffer was right at home, however, and as a result he managed to get the best there was going, the waiters evidently mistaking him for nothing less than a German Count, judging from the alacrity with which they flew about to execute his orders. We had been out but a few short hours before we began to miss Frank Lincoln, whose never-failing fund of humor had helped to while away many an hour and who had bid us farewell at Melbourne, having decided to remain for some little time in Australia. Among our fellow-passengers in the cabin were a couple of civil engineers from England, who had been making a tour of Australia, and very pleasant companions they proved to be; a Melbourne lady who was taking her two little daughters to Germany to be educated; and last but not least in his own estimation, if not in that of others, a Mr. Theophilus Green, a loud-mouthed, bald-headed, red-faced and portly gentleman of middle age, who, according to his own story, was possessed of unlimited funds, a desire to travel, and an inclination to pass himself off wherever he might happen to be as a representative American, God save the mark! Mr. Green journeyed with our party as far as Suez, and when he left us the long-drawn sigh of relief that went up from all hands was like unto the rushing sound that is caused by the passage of a hurricane over the surface of the waters.

Among the second cabin passengers were two stalwart Australians who were bound for Zanzibar, Africa, and who meant to penetrate into the interior of that wild country in search of big game. They were well equipped with firearms, of the most improved designs, and unlimited quantities of ammunition, and had the appearance of men who were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves in any country, no odds how wild and uncivilized it might be. They accompanied us as far as Aden, where they left us, taking with them our best wishes for their success and safe return.

The second night after leaving Port Melbourne we stopped at Port Adelaide, a little seaport seven miles distant from Adelaide, where we remained until two o'clock the next afternoon to take on a cargo of Australian wool. This was a hot town, at least to look at, the streets being dusty and devoid of shade trees of any kind, and the buildings of a low and inferior description. We had considerable sport while laying there fishing from the rail of the steamer and watching a big shark that came nosing around the stern of the boat in search of food. After he swam away for some distance some of the boys amused themselves by shooting at him with their revolvers, but if they succeeded in hitting him, of which I have my doubts, his sharkship gave no sign of being in trouble and pursued the even tenor of his way until he was lost to sight.

For days after we left Port Adelaide the weather was of the most disagreeable variety, the sky being overcast by clouds of a leaden hue while the huge waves were lashed into foam by the wind, and this, together with a heavy ground swell, gave to the steamer a most uncomfortable motion. This sort of affair was too much for my wife, and also for the other ladies in the party, with the exception of Mrs. Williamson, who proved to be a good sailor, and they remained in their staterooms. I had thought that I, too, was an immune, not having been sick since we left San Francisco, but the motion of the boat proved to be too much even for me, and I was forced to pay common tribute to Neptune that the King of the Seas is wont to exact from most land-lubbers. Tener and Fred Pfeffer were about the only ball players that escaped, and that Pfeffer did so I shall always insist was due to the fact that he could speak German and so got all the good things to eat that he wanted, while the rest of us, not being so fortunate, were obliged to put up with what we could get. Even Daly and Fogarty were obliged to keep quiet for a time, and this was something of a relief to the more sober members of the party. One afternoon after the last-named gentleman had begun to feel a little better he called to a passing waiter and asked for a cheese sandwich. The Dutchman, doubtless thinking that he was doing that irrepressible a favor, brought up a big plate of sauerkraut and steamed bolognas, and the effect of this on the weak stomachs of those who happened to be in that vicinity can be better imagined than described. If John Tener had not happened along and grabbed that waiter by the scruff of the neck and the slack of his pants, hustling him out of sight, there is no telling what might have happened, but I am inclined to think that murder might have been done.

After we had left the Australian Bight behind us and entered the Indian Ocean the seas calmed down and, the weather, which prior to that time had been cool and uncomfortable, became warm and pleasant. The ladies were again enabled to join us on deck and with music, cards, books and conversation the time passed pleasantly enough.

The steerage passengers were to us a never-ending source of amusement and interest, as we watched them working in their various ways and listened to their strange and incomprehensible gibberish. An old Hindoo one day raffled off a richly-embroidered silk pillow at a shilling a chance, and this, with my usual good luck I won and turned over to Mrs. Anson for safe keeping.

The Hindoos and Mohammedans on board would eat nothing that they did not cook themselves, even killed a sheep every few days, when it became necessary, and carrying their own supply of saucepans and other cooking utensils. One of the Hindoos, a merchant of Calcutta, who had been ill from the time that the steamer left Port Adelaide, died when our voyage was about half over. His body was sewn up in a piece of canvas with a bar of lead at the foot and laid away in his bunk. It was in vain that we asked when he was to be buried, as we could get no satisfactory answer to our queries, but the next night, when the starlight lay like a silver mantle on the face of the waters, the steamer stopped for a moment, a splash followed, and the body of the Hindoo sank down into the dark waters, and in a few days the episode had been forgotten. Such is life.

Clarence Duval, our colored mascot, had been appreciated on the "Alameda" at his true value, but on the "Salier" for a time the waiters seemed to regard him as an Indian Prince, even going so far as to quarrel as to whom should wait on him. A word from Mr. Spalding whispered in the ear of the captain worked a change in his standing, however, and he was set to work during the meal hours pulling the punka rope which kept the big fans in motion, an occupation that he seemed to regard as being beneath his dignity, though his protests fell on deaf ears.

One hot afternoon a mock trial was held in the smoking-room, with Fogarty as the presiding Judge, and then and there a decree was passed to the effect that, "in view of the excessively warm weather and through consideration for the comfort and peace of our entire party, Clarence Duval, our chocolate-colored mascot, must take a bath."

Now, if there was any one thing more than another that our mascot detested it was a bath, and the moment that the court's decree was pronounced he fled to the darkest depths of the steerage in hopes of escaping the ordeal, but in vain, for he was dragged out of his hiding place by Pettit, Baldwin and Daly, who, in spite of his cries for mercy, thrust him beneath a salt water shower and held him there until the tank was emptied. A madder little coon than he was when released it would be difficult to find, and arming himself with a base-ball bat he swore that he would kill his tormentors, and might have done so had not a close watch been kept over him until his temper had burned itself out and he had become amenable to reason.

The afternoon of January 22d, as we were lounging about the deck, John Ward, glancing up from the pages of a book that he was engaged in reading, happened to catch a glimpse of a sail ahead, and announcing the fact, there was a rush made by all hands to the steamer's rail in order to get a good view of the welcome sight, for a strange sail at sea is always a welcome sight to the voyager. She was under a cloud of canvas and, as we drew near, with the aid of a glass, we made out her name, "San Scofield, Brunswick, Me." A moment later the Stars and Stripes were thrown to the breeze from her masthead and the cheers that went up from our decks could have been heard two miles away. If there were tears in the eyes of some of the members of our party as they saw the old flag gleaming in the sunlight and thought of God's country at that time so far away, the display of emotion did them no discredit.

We were all astonished one morning by a performance on the part of our mascot that was not down on the bills, and that might have resulted in his becoming food for the sharks with which the Indian Ocean abounds had he not played in the very best of luck.

The performance of Professor Bartholomew had fired the "coon" with a desire to emulate his example, and he had made a wager with one of the boys that, using an umbrella for a parachute, he could jump from the rigging some thirty feet above the deck and land safely on the awning. It was late one afternoon when half a dozen of the party were sitting beneath its shade that a dark shadow passed over them followed by a dull thud on the canvas that made it sag for a foot or more, and a wild scream of terror followed. Climbing up the rope ladder to where they could overlook the awning, the boys found the mascot crawling on his hands and knees toward the rigging and dragging behind him an umbrella in a badly damaged condition. When Fogarty asked him what he was doing, he replied, after a long interval of silence, "Just been a practicin'," after which he informed them that had he landed all right he should have attempted to win his bet the next morning. One experience of this kind was enough for him, however, and though the boys begged him to give them another exhibition of his skill in making the parachute leap, nothing could induce him to do so.

"Craps," a game introduced by the mascot, soon became more popular in the card-room than even poker, and the rattle of the bones and the cries of "Come, seben, come eleben, what's de mattah wid you dice," and other kindred remarks natural to the game coming from the lips of the chocolate-colored coon were to be heard at all hours.

The nights during this portion of our trip were especially fine, and we enjoyed them immensely sitting on deck until the "wee sma' hours" watching the starlight that turned the surface of the water into a great field of glistening diamonds, and the silvery wake of the ship, that stretched away out into the ocean like a track of moonbeams, growing dimmer and dimmer until it was lost in the darkness that lay beyond.

It was just as the sun peeped above the distant horizon on the morning of January 25th that we first caught a glimpse of the shores of Elephant Island, lying just off the coast of Ceylon, and at ten o'clock the shores of the island of Ceylon itself were full in sight. As we drew nearer the narrow-bodied proas, the boats of the natives, paddled by dark-skinned boatmen innocent of clothing came crowding about the steamer in great numbers, while the white-winged gulls hung above the vessel in clouds, darting so near to us at times that we could almost touch them with our hands. Past Point de Galle, with its crumbling walls of white cement, that made them appear as if they had but recently been whitewashed, we steamed until we came in sight of Colombo, and stopped at the entrance of the breakwater to await the arrival of the harbor master. That gentleman was apparently in no very great hurry and the hour and a half that we laid there awaiting his pleasure we spent in looking at the great stone breakwater and the city that lies upon the open coast, the harbor being an artificial and not a natural one. It was after four o'clock when the harbor master's boat, manned by half-clad Cingalese, came alongside, and a short time afterwards we steamed to a place inside the breakwater and dropped our anchors.

In an incredibly short space of time the steamer was surrounded by boats of all shapes, sizes and colors, manned by Malays, Cingalese and Hindoos, clad in all the colors of the rainbow, and all talking and yelling at the same time. Four little Cingalese boys, the oldest of which could not have been more than twelve of age, and who paddled a bamboo canoe around with barrel staves, attracted the most of our attention. They could swim and dive like otters, and shillings and sixpences cast into the water they brought up from the bottom, catching it in many instances before it had found a resting place on the sands. "Frow it," they would shout, and scarcely had the shining piece of silver struck the water before they were after it, disappearing from sight and then coming up with the coveted coin secure in their possession. The decks were soon swarming with hotel runners, moneychangers, and tradesmen of various sorts. As yet we were uncertain as to our destination, and depending upon word that was to have been left here by our advance agent, Will Lynch.

A drenching rain was falling when Messrs. Spalding and Leigh Lynch went ashore in search of news, and when Mr. Spalding came back an hour later he had heard nothing but had arranged for the accommodation of the party at the Grand Oriental Hotel, and we were soon on our way to the landing place in steam launches provided for the purpose, still uncertain, however, as to whether we were to go on in the "Salier" or not.



CHAPTER XXVI. FROM CEYLON TO EGYPT.

We landed in Colombo on the steps of a pagoda-like structure containing the Custom House, and passing through found ourselves on a broad avenue that led direct to the Grand Oriental Hotel, said by travelers to be the finest south of the Mediterranean, and in their opinion I can certainly concur, as we found it to be everything that could be desired so far as our limited experience went. The rooms were large and carpetless, with latticed windows and high ceilings and the immense dining-rooms opened on broad stone porticos with massive columns and surrounding galleries, on which were Turkish divans for the comfort of the guests. The dark-skinned native servants, with their picturesque, flowing garments and tortoise-shell combs, gave to the whole an oriental air that up to that time we had read about but never seen. We were fanned by great swinging punkas during the dinner hour, the meal being an excellent one, after which we went out to see the town, the Indian shops under the hotel coming in that night for the largest share of our attention. First, because they were easy to reach, and, second, because of the really handsome stock of articles of Indian manufacture that they contained. Carvings in ebony and ivory, in the most beautiful designs, inlaid work of all descriptions, shawls that a queen might envy, together with embroidered articles of rare beauty, delicate tapestry and quaint and curious figures of all kinds, were for sale there and at prices that were not more than one-third or one-fourth what the same articles could be purchased for at home, though the price that was at first asked for them by these shopkeepers would be at least three or four times what they expected to get.

The jinricksha, which answers the same purpose as the hansom cab in Chicago or New York, and which is a much lighter and smaller vehicle, being drawn by a Cingalese who trots along between the shafts as though it were a pleasure instead of a business, is about the only sort of a vehicle known to the natives of Colombo, and a ride in one of them is by no means an unpleasant experience, as you are certain of one thing, and that is that your horse will not shy with you and run away, no matter what strange objects he may encounter. They are so gentle, too, that a lady can drive them and will stand anywhere without hitching. These are great advantages, and yet, after all, I think that I should prefer to hold the ribbons over a good horse, and I am sure that Mrs. Anson is of the same opinion. The jinriksha, with its human motor, must, it struck me the first time that I saw them, be a decided obstacle to courtship, for what young fellow would care to take his best girl out riding behind a horse that could understand everything that was said and done, and tell the groom all about it when he returned to the barn. I shouldn't have liked to do so, when I was courting my wife, and I don't believe that she would have cared to ride after that kind of a horse.

Visiting the American Consul that evening Mr. Spalding was informed that on account of the steamship and railroad connections, and also because of the unhealthy condition of Calcutta, it would be impossible for our party to make a tour of India, and therefore that part of the trip was given up, greatly to our regret, as we had looked forward to it with the most pleasant anticipations. This disappointment was general among the members of the party, but as it could not be helped we determined to make the best of it.

Arrangements were made that evening, however, to hold the "Salier," which was to have left at daybreak the next morning, until five o'clock in the afternoon, in order that we might play a game of base-ball before our departure.

The sun was up but a trifle earlier that we were the next morning, as we, wished to see all of Ceylon and the Cingalese that was possible in the limited time at our disposal. The Hotel balconies in the early morning were fairly given over to the crows, great big birds of a leaden color that circle around you in the most impudent manner and are as hard to get rid of as the beggars, which follow you about the streets in swarms and annoy you with their cries of "bachsheesh, bachsheesh," until you long even for the sight of a policeman to whom you might confide your troubles. Colombo is not a prepossessing city to the eye of the traveler, the buildings being of an ancient style of architecture and built more for comfort than for show, but the market places and bazaars are well worth a visit.