For the purpose of convenience the writer of these souvenirs will refer
to himself as "I" and "me." I was all done up in health and was
advised by doctors to clear out at once. So I bought a steamship
ticket, packed a kit bag, crossed the water and took a couple of
strolls about that island over there; when, feeling fitter, I turned up
in London for a look about.

It sort of came over me that in my haste of departure I had neglected
to bring any of my friends along, or to equip myself with the means of
making others here. I was unarmed, so to say--a "Yank" in an obviously
hostile country. This, you see, was before the war, before we and
Britain had got so genuinely sweet on one another.

At that time I had two acquaintances resident in London. One, a
Bostonian, whose attention was quite occupied with a new addition to
his family; the other was the errand man stationed before my place of
abode. He was an amiable soul, whose companionable nature, worldly
wisdom and topographical knowledge I much appreciated. He instructed
me in the culinary subject of "bubble and squeak" and many other
learned matters; but unfortunately his social connections were limited
to one class.

One time not a great while back I happened to review in succession for
a New York paper several books by Hilaire Belloc. Mr. Belloc had
written me a note thanking me for these reviews. I decided to write
Mr. Belloc that I was in London and to ask if he could spare a moment
for me to look at him, Mr. Belloc being one of my literary passions.

Then an ambitious idea popped into my head. I determined to write the