“We got into Liverpool and loafed around town for a couple of hours and saw nothing that would cause any excitement.  The natives look just the same and dress just the same as they do in America but you have to go some to understand what they say.

“Gee, you should pipe the herdics they use for railroad cars in this man England’s country.  Instead of making the grand entrance from the end you sneak in at the side and sit in a kind of a pew thing, making faces at some one across the aisle.  Wilbur got sore ’cause he blew himself for a couple of tickets and the conductor, I mean, the guard, didn’t come around to collect them until we go nearly into London.  He wanted to bet an Englishman, on the other side of the hall, $5—­Bly me, I mean a pound, that he could make the same trip for nothing and hand the guard a group of chatter that would get him all the way into town.

“When we crawled out of the caboose in London we thought it was midnight, but on asking a cop—­my word, I mean Bobby—­he said it was nothing but a fog.  Wilbur told him that if he wanted him to see much of his blooming city he would have to bring around a dark lantern.

“We called a cab and started for the Savoy.  All true Americans when they go to London stop at the Savoy.  We drove for about an hour, the horse gumshoeing his way through the dark until we came to the hotel.  Wilbur asked the cab driver how much it was and he named the sum that if you even suggested it to a New York cabby he would have you pinched.

“After registering Wilbur called Marcus Mayer up on the telephone.  He grabbed down the receiver and after waiting for about half an hour some dame said, ‘Are you there?’ Wilbur’s Nanny took the hurdle and he answered, ’Where did you think I was?  Playing pinochle with the King?’ After a sharp struggle he managed to get Marcus’ hangout, but he wasn’t in, so Wilbur started out to hunt the American bar alone.  In about fifteen minutes he came back on the run with a couple of Bobbys about two jumps behind him.  It seems that Wilbur had found the American bar and walked up to it and asked for a Manhattan cocktail, because he was getting homesick and the bartender said, ‘Will you have it made with Scotch or Irish, sir?’

“Naturally Wilbur hit him with the first thing that came handy, which happened to be a heavy beer mug.  The bartender was a short sport, and instead of trimming him with a bung-starter, turns loose a yell for the law.  So Wilbur lopes on, carelessly knocking over a couple of cops on his way out.

“The two officers that followed him to the room were strong for sending him to the booby hatch, but I had the presence of mind to slip them each a piece of change and they exit laughing.  That’s all that has happened so far, though we just got in town last night and I am writing