ANDY AND I. 



(Published in "The Horseman," December 13, 1894.) 



"Carrying coals to Newcastle," the proverbially use- 

 less labor, would scarcely be considered a more foolish 

 venture, from a business standpoint, than for a pair of 

 Americans to journey to France for the purpose of learn- 

 ing how to conduct a trotting meeting. We — Andy and 

 I — landed in Paris early one bright sunny morning in 

 March, 1894, and after a series of signs, gibberish and 

 contortions — in which Andy was the chief contortionist 

 and star acrobat — in the office of the Grand Terminal 

 Hotel, intended as an explanation that we weary trav- 

 elers, were Americans, and wished rooms and other ac- 

 commodations incident to the business of hotel-keeping, 

 the good-looking clerk, with a demure twinkle of his 

 eve and the best of English, said "Certainly, gentlemen ; 

 glad to see you. Will you have rooms on the first floor 

 with baths?" The blank, utterly imbecile expression of 

 amazement on Andy's countenance was a subject that 

 should have been perpetuated to future generations by the 

 kodak. As the ship had landed its passengers in Calais 

 about midnight and we had been on the short "bob-bitty" 

 French steam cars the remainder of the night, the luxury 

 of the rooms assigned us, after ten nights' experience in 

 the state rooms of an ocean steamer, was fully appre- 

 ciated. The carpets were like stepping on a soft, mossy 

 bank; the beds, with three mattresses, all bedecked with 

 delicate trimmings, laces and other finery; everything so 

 sweet, clean and cozy, made our two-hour nap most in- 

 vigorating. 



