BACK TO CIVILIZATION 
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tion I matched with promptness. She spoke Eng¬ 
lish quite well and seemed prosperous and—yes, 
motherly. There’s no other word for it, although 
she is now hardly thirty. 
It was a terrible disappointment, a collapse of 
delightful memories, and as I walked away from 
her little silk shop with a vague promise to call 
again I knew perfectly well that I should never go 
back. 
I left Manila after less than two days and rolled 
and plunged and tumbled back across the China Sea 
to Hongkong. I bought a little chow dog puppy 
from the Chinese steward on board, but I suppose 
it will grow up and get fat one of these days, too. 
Allison Armour and his nephew, Norman Armour, 
were with us and in Hongkong the latter bought 
two chow dog puppies to send home. They looked 
exactly like teddy bears. Later he resolved that 
the trouble and risk were too great, inasmuch as he 
was not returning by the Pacific, so he gave them 
to me. And with three chow dogs and my friend 
Stephenson I embarked on the Asia for the twenty- 
eight day trip to Frisco. 
The ship was jammed and we found a little fat 
man consigned to the sofa in our state-room. He 
was pleasant looking, but we little realized what 
hours of nocturnal horror were in store for us. He 
was the champion snorist of the five continents. He 
could snore in all keys, all languages, all directions, 
and it was like trying to sleep in the same room with 
a fog-horn. Nothing could waken him and he went 
