"Sincerely yours,
"E. A. S——."
There have been other letters I would like to quote, but for fear of boring my readers I will end with the following, written from Chicago,
"To Margot Asquith,
"I read your volume a year ago and at once decided if it was a girl I would call her 'Margot.'
"Tuesday night at Orchestra Hall I heard and saw you. Your enthusiasm, your zest for life, the airy grace of your movements, and the charm of your smile will live in my memory always.
"Here's hoping that some of the wealth of your qualities will go with the name 'Margot' to my little one.
"May you live long, Margot Asquith, is the wish of,
"M. M. F.——."
On the 16th we arrived at Buffalo, where, after seeing the usual army of photographers and reporters, we motored twenty-five miles out to Niagara.
I had always imagined the drive to the Falls would have been long, slow, dangerous, and steep; that this amazing spectacle must be situated in a wild and lonely place, with possibly one romantic hotel encircled by balconies for the convenience of tourists who had travelled from great distances to see it; whereas it is approached by a straight, flat, and crowded road, with tram-cars pursuing their steady course the whole way from Buffalo City. The Niagara Falls, so far from being in a lonely spot, are surrounded by gasometers, steel factories, and chimney pots. Of their beauty and magnificence it would be as ridiculous as it would be presumptuous for me to write, but when my maid said she had expected them to be more "outlandish," I did not contradict her.