he associates who
had received no such individual attention.

In Venice we attended the great fete celebrating the first visit of
King Humbert and Queen Margherita. It was also the first time Venice had
entertained a queen since the Italian union, and the sea-queen of
the Adriatic outdid herself in the gorgeousness and the beauty of her
preparations. The Grand Canal was like a flowing rainbow, reflecting
the brilliant decorations on every side, and at night the moonlight, the
music, the chiming church-bells, the colored lanterns, the gay voices,
the lapping waters against the sides of countless gondolas made the
experience seem like a dream of a new and unbelievably beautiful world.
Forty thousand persons were gathered in the Square of St. Mark and
in front of the Palace, and I recall a pretty incident in which the
gracious Queen and a little street urchin figured. The small, ragged
boy had crept as close to the royal balcony as he dared, and then,
unobserved, had climbed up one of its pillars. At the moment when a
sudden hush had fallen on the crowd this infant, overcome by patriotism
and a glimpse of the royal lady on the balcony above him, suddenly piped
up shrilly in the silence. "Long live the Queen!" he cried. "Long live
the Queen!"

The gracious Margherita heard the childish voice, and, amused and
interested, leaned over the balcony to see where it came from. What she
saw doubtless touched the mother-heart in her. She caught the eye of
the tattered urchin clinging to the pillar, and radiantly smiled on him.
Then, probably thinking that the King was absorbing the attention of
the great assemblage, she indulged in a little diversion. Leaning
far forward, she kissed the tip of her lace handkerchief and swept
it caressingly across the boy's brown cheek, smiling down at him as
unconsciously as if she and the enraptured youngster were alone together
in the world. The next instant she had straightened up and flushed, for
the watchful crowd had seen the episode and was wild with enthusiasm.
For ten minutes the people cheered the Queen without ceasing, and for
the next few days they talked of little but the spontaneous, girlish
action which had delighted them all.

One more sentimental record, and I shall have reached another
mile-stone. As I have said, my friend Mrs. Addy left me in her will
fifteen hundred dollars for my visit to Europe, and before I sailed
her father, who was one of the best friends I have ever had,