When I left I promised to write to my hostess and Mr. Moore.
* * * * * * *
We changed at St. Louis, on our way to Indianapolis, and were met there at 7 a.m. the next morning by Mr. Paul Anderson; we all had breakfast at the station together, and I was sorry to say good-bye to him.
I read quoted from a London paper that Mr. Balfour—the greatest living Commoner—had been made a Knight of the Garter.
We were met upon our arrival in the afternoon at Indianapolis by Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, and accompanied to their house by a reporter, I was surprised to see in the papers next day that I had said among other things that in Scotland we were not only highly educated, but able to study in our schools both the French and Spanish languages, and were I the Queen of America I would restore drink.
I began to fear that, though uncrowned, I must have in a fit of absence usurped some of the powers I had indicated ought to be restored to the United States.
After travelling all day on the 26th, we arrived in sousing rain at night to hear there were no porters at the station. On enquiring if they were on strike, I was told that there never had been any porters at Kalamazoo.
Loaded with luggage, we paddled like ducks in the mud to an inferior hotel.
As we had lunched at midday and there was no dining car on the train, we were annoyed to hear that no one could get any food after 8.30 p.m., but luckily for us there were still ten minutes before the restaurant closed, so we devoured what we could. On the next day I was told by reporters and other people that an eminent divine had said in a sermon that, thanks to my belief in intemperance, I was not a fit and proper person to give a lecture, and in consequence, my audience of the evening was not all that I could have desired. I had something to say about bearing false witness against your neighbour, but the few that were there were more than enthusiastic, and I was embraced by a woman from Peebleshire.
I was grateful to have the following cutting posted to me: