THIS IS the beginning of the “Chronicles of an African Trip.” It may be that I shall not keep them up very long but I am starting out with good intentions in response to the request of many friends, so please pass them on as long as they last. There won’t be any attempt at “fine writin”—only a few notes as we go our way.
My dinner guests Wednesday evening left just before half-past eleven, after we had enjoyed listening for the last time to the quartet (trio because Tinlot was laid up with the grippe), Landow and Gleason, followed by some chorus singing by the guests. Frank Macomber was the only one I would let go to the station and there we found Audley and his wife and a couple of his friends. Jane Stewart is certainly a good sport.