We took some all-day trips out into the country, and
saw not only the famous places, like Versailles and Fontainebleau, but
lots of big, beautiful private estates with farms attached. There's none
of the spotless shininess of Holland or the beautiful cattle there; but
agriculture is developed to the _n_th degree for all that. Those French
farmers wring more out of one acre than we do out of ten; but we're
going to do some wringing in Hamstead, Vermont, in the future, I can tell
you! The last night in Paris, I never went to bed at all. Twenty of us
had dinner at the Cafe de la Paix--went to the theatre--saw the girls and
fathers and mothers home--then went off with the other fellows to another
show which lasted until three A.M. I had barely time to rush back to the
hotel, collect my belongings, and catch my early train--for I'd made up
my mind to do that so that I could stop off for two hours at Rouen on my
way to Calais, and I was glad I did, though I must confess I yawned a
good deal, even while I was looking at the Cathedral and the relics of
Joan of Arc.
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