I am writing one to all of you folks over there.
DICK.
TAKE ME BACK TO BROADWAY, WHERE THE ORCHIDS GROW WITH APOLOGIES TO THE WESTERN DIALECT POETS "I have wandered up and down somewhat in many different lands I have been to Fort Worth, Texas, and I've tramped through Jersey sands, I have seen Pike's Peak by Moonlight, and I've visited the Fair And to save enumeration I've been nearly everywhere.
But no matter where I rested and no matter where I'd go, I have longed to be on Broadway Where the Orchids Grow.
Some people love the lilies fair that hide in mossy dells Some folks are fond of new mown hay, before the rainy spells But give to me the orchids rare that hang in Thorley's store, And in Fleischman's at the Hoffman, and in half a dozen more And when I see them far from home they make my heart's blood glow For they take me back to Broadway Where the Orchids Grow.
Let Paris boast of boulevards where one can sit and drink There is no such chance on Broadway, at the Brower House, 'I don't think.' And where else are there fair soubrettes in pipe clayed tennis shoes, And boys in silken sashes promenading by in twos Oh you can boast of any street of which you're proud to know But give me sleepy Broadway Where the Orchids Grow.
Let poets sing of chiming bells and gently lowing kine I like the clanging cable cars like fire engines in line And I never miss the sunset and for moonlight never sigh When 'Swept by Ocean Breezes.' flashes out against the sky.
And when the Tenderloin awakes, and open theatres glow I want to be on Broadway Where the Orchids Grow." A VOUS, JOHN DREW "John Drew, I am your debtor For a very pleasant letter And a lot of cabinet photos Of the 'Butterflies' and you And I think it very kind That you kept me so in mind And pitied me in exile So I do, John Drew.
2 John Drew, 'twixt you and me Precious little I can see Of that good there is in Solitude That poets say they view.
For _I_ hate to be in bed With a candle at my head Sitting vis a vis with Conscience.
So would you, John Drew.
3 John Drew, then promise me That as soon as I am free I may sit in the first entrance As Lamb always lets me do.
And watch you fume and fret While the innocent soubrette Takes the centre of the stage a-- Way from you, John Drew." R.H.D.
In the summer of 1894 Richard went to London for a purely social visit, but while he was there President Carnot was assassinated, and he went to Paris to write the "story" of the funeral and of the election of the new President.
VERSAILLES, June 24, 1894.
I am out here to see the election of the new President.

I jumped on the mail coach and came off in a hurry without any breakfast, but I had a pretty drive out, and the guard and I talked of London.

The palace is closed and no one is admitted except by card, so I have seen only the outside of it.

It is most interesting.

There is not a ribbon or a badge; not a banner or a band.