those little India rubber balls in the jet of a fountain
being turned and twisted and not allowed to rest. Today I have been to
hear Yvette Guilbert rehearse and thought her all Chas thinks her only
her songs this season are beneath the morals of a medical student. It
is very hot and it is getting hotter. I had an amusing time at the
Grand Prix where Tina won a lot of money on a tip I gave her which I
did not back myself. In the evening Newton took me to dinner and to
the Jardin de Paris where they had 10 franc admittance and where every
thing went that wasn't nailed. The dudes put candles on their high
hats and the girls snuffed them out with kicks and at one time the
crowd mobbed the band stand and then the stage and played on all the
instruments. The men were all swells in evening dress and the women in
beautiful ball dresses and it was a wonderful sight. It only happens
once a year like the Yale-Princeton night at Koster and Bials except
that the women are all very fine indeed. They rode pig-a-back races
and sang all the songs. I had dinner with John Drew last night. I
occasionally sleep and if Nora doesn't come on time I shall be a
skeleton and have no money left. As a matter of fact I am fatter than
ever and can eat all sorts of impossible things here that I could never
eat at home. I lunch every day with the Eustises and we dine out
almost every night. I consort entirely with the poorest of art
students or the noblest of princesses and so far have kept out of
mischief, but you can never tell for this is a wicked city they say, or
it strikes me as most amusing at present only I cannot see what Harper
and Bros. are going to get out of it. I said that of London so I
suppose it will all straighten out by the time I get back.

DICK.

CHAPTER VII

FIRST PLAYS

When the season in Paris had reached its end, Richard returned to
London and later on to Marion, where he spent the late summer and early
fall, working on his Mediterranean and Paris articles, and completing
his novel "Soldiers of Fortune." In October he returned to New York
and once more assumed his editorial duties and took his usual active
interest in the winter's gayeties.

The first of these letters refers to a dinner of welcome given to Sir
Henry Irving. The last two to books by my mother and Richard, and
which were published simultaneously.

NEW YORK, November 27, 1893.

DEAR MOTHER:

The dinner was very fine. I was very