Penelope's English Experiences Being Extracts From The Commonplace Book Of Penelope Hamilton By Kate Douglas Wiggin







































































































 - Penelope's English Experiences
being extracts from the commonplace book of Penelope Hamilton


by Kate Douglas Wiggin.



To my Boston friend - Page 1
Penelope's English Experiences Being Extracts From The Commonplace Book Of Penelope Hamilton By Kate Douglas Wiggin - Page 1 of 31 - First - Home

Enter page number    Next

Number of Words to Display Per Page: 250 500 1000

Save Money On Flights

Penelope's English Experiences Being Extracts From The Commonplace Book Of Penelope Hamilton

By Kate Douglas Wiggin.

To my Boston friend Salemina.

No Anglomaniac, but a true Briton.

Contents.

Part First - In Town.

I. The weekly bill. II. The powdered footman smiles. III. Eggs a la coque. IV. The English sense of humour. V. A Hyde Park Sunday. VI. The English Park Lover. VII. A ducal tea-party. VIII. Tuppenny travels in London. IX. A Table of Kindred and Affinity. X. Apropos of advertisements. XI. The ball on the opposite side. XII. Patricia makes her debut. XIII. A Penelope secret. XIV. Love and lavender.

Part Second - In the Country.

XV. Penelope dreams. XVI. The decay of Romance. XVII. Short stops and long bills. XVIII. I meet Mrs. Bobby. XIX. The heart of the artist. XX. A canticle to Jane. XXI. I remember, I remember. XXII. Comfort Cottage. XXIII. Tea served here. XXIV. An unlicensed victualler. XXV. Et ego in Arcadia vixit.

Part First - In Town.

Chapter I. The weekly bill.

Smith's Hotel, 10 Dovermarle Street.

Here we are in London again, - Francesca, Salemina, and I. Salemina is a philanthropist of the Boston philanthropists limited. I am an artist. Francesca is- It is very difficult to label Francesca. She is, at her present stage of development, just a nice girl; that is about all: the sense of humanity hasn't dawned upon her yet; she is even unaware that personal responsibility for the universe has come into vogue, and so she is happy.

Francesca is short of twenty years old, Salemina short of forty, I short of thirty. Francesca is in love, Salemina never has been in love, I never shall be in love. Francesca is rich, Salemina is well-to-do, I am poor. There we are in a nutshell.

We are not only in London again, but we are again in Smith's private hotel; one of those deliciously comfortable and ensnaring hostelries in Mayfair which one enters as a solvent human being, and which one leaves as a bankrupt, no matter what may be the number of ciphers on one's letter of credit; since the greater one's apparent supply of wealth, the greater the demand made upon it. I never stop long in London without determining to give up my art for a private hotel. There must be millions in it, but I fear I lack some of the essential qualifications for success. I never could have the heart, for example, to charge a struggling young genius eight shillings a week for two candles, and then eight shillings the next week for the same two candles, which the struggling young genius, by dint of vigorous economy, had managed to preserve to a decent height. No, I could never do it, not even if I were certain that she would squander the sixteen shillings in Bond Street fripperies instead of laying them up against the rainy day.

It is Salemina who always unsnarls the weekly bill. Francesca spends an evening or two with it, first of all, because, since she is so young, we think it good mental-training for her, and not that she ever accomplishes any results worth mentioning. She begins by making three columns headed respectively F., S., and P. These initials stand for Francesca, Salemina, and Penelope, but they resemble the signs for pounds, shillings, and pence so perilously that they introduce an added distraction.

She then places in each column the items in which we are all equal, such as rooms, attendance, fires, and lights. Then come the extras, which are different for each person: more ale for one, more hot baths for another; more carriages for one, more lemon squashes for another. Francesca's column is principally filled with carriages and lemon squashes. You would fancy her whole time was spent in driving and drinking, if you judged her merely by this weekly statement at the hotel.

When she has reached the point of dividing the whole bill into three parts, so that each person may know what is her share, she adds the three together, expecting, not unnaturally, to get the total amount of the bill. Not at all. She never comes within thirty shillings of the desired amount, and she is often three or four guineas to the good or to the bad. One of her difficulties lies in her inability to remember that in English money it makes a difference where you place a figure, whether, in the pound, shilling, or pence column. Having been educated on the theory that a six is a six the world over, she charged me with sixty shillings' worth of Apollinaris in one week. I pounced on the error, and found that she had jotted down each pint in the shilling instead of in the pence column.

After Francesca had broken ground on the bill in this way, Salemina, on the next leisure evening, draws a large armchair under the lamp and puts on her eye-glasses. We perch on either arm, and, after identifying our own extras, we summon the butler to identify his. There are a good many that belong to him or to the landlady; of that fact we are always convinced before he proves to the contrary. We can never see (until he makes us see) why the breakfasts on the 8th should be four shillings each because we had strawberries, if on the 8th we find strawberries charged in the luncheon column and also in the column of desserts and ices. And then there are the peripatetic lemon squashes. Dawson calls them 'still' lemon squashes because they are made with water, not with soda or seltzer or vichy, but they are particularly badly named. 'Still' forsooth! when one of them will leap from place to place, appearing now in the column of mineral waters and now in the spirits, now in the suppers, and again in the sundries. We might as well drink Chablis or Pommery by the time one of these still squashes has ceased wandering, and charging itself at each station.

Enter page number   Next
Page 1 of 31
Words from 1 to 1010 of 31509


1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Next

More links: First 10 20 30 Last

Display Words Per Page: 250 500 1000

 
Africa (29)
Asia (27)
Europe (59)
North America (58)
Oceania (24)
South America (8)
 

List of Travel Books RSS Feeds

Africa Travel Books RSS Feed

Asia Travel Books RSS Feed

Europe Travel Books RSS Feed

North America Travel Books RSS Feed

Oceania Travel Books RSS Feed

South America Travel Books RSS Feed

Copyright © 2005 - 2012 Travel Guides