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A Minstrel in France by Sir Harry Lauder
page 7 of 277 (02%)
It was in March of 1914 that we sailed from San Francisco, on the
tenth of the month. It was a glorious day as we stood on the deck of
the old Pacific liner _Sonoma_. I was eager and glad to be off. To be
sure, America had been kinder to me than ever, and I was loath, in a
way, to be leaving her and all the friends of mine she held--old
friends of years, and new ones made on that trip. But I was coming
back. And then there was one great reason for my eagerness that few
folk knew--that my son John was coming to meet me in Australia. I was
missing him sore already.

They came aboard the old tubby liner to see us off, friends by the
score. They kept me busy shaking hands.

"Good-by, Harry," they said. And "Good luck, Harry," they cried. And
just before the bugles sounded all ashore I heard a few of them
crooning an old Scots song:

"Will ye no come back again?"

"Aye, I'll come back again!" I told them when I heard them.

"Good, Harry, good!" they cried back to me. "It's a promise! We'll be
waiting for you--waiting to welcome you!"

And so we sailed from San Francisco and from America, out through the
Golden Gate, toward the sunset. Here was beauty for me, who loved it
new beauty, such as I had not seen before. They were quiet days,
happy days, peaceful days. I was tired after my long tour, and the
days at sea rested me, with good talk when I craved it, and time to
sleep, and no need to give thought to trains, or to think, when I
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