Though it was December and the weather freezing, the embankment for a mile was lined with great freight-carriers, while tugboats towing long lines of wheat barges that had come from Hungary snorted down the aisle of dignified ocean carriers, whose funnels towered fifty feet above the waters. The _France_, with the “stars and stripes” snapping in the crisp morning breeze, steamed up the busy lane, and after passing the quarantine officer, was assigned to a berth on the outskirts of the town. A cup of coffee in the galley served for breakfast, and then with Spero, Stomati and Morris in the boat, I was pulled across the river to the side where the cable office was reported to be. It was half past seven, and the town was just beginning to stir itself as my boat came alongside the stone steps of one of the many landing places. With Stomati as a pilot, I found the cable office where a sleepy individual in uniform was lounging over a table on which a dozen instruments were merrily clicking. We looked in through a little grated window and Stomati (in what I suspect was very inferior Roumanian) stated that we were not looking through the grating out of curiosity, but because we had a message to send. The operator stretched and shuffled forward, and I handed in my three pages of typewritten cable blanks. He glanced at it and shoved it back with the observation that the post-office was across the hall, and started back to his desk. When he finally heard it was a cable for London, he scuttled out of the room, and in a few minutes came back with two more operators, and a fierce argument ensued. At last the one who seemed to be the head, came over with a pitying smile and handed back the cable with the comment that I better mail it, as it would cost 75 cents a word to cable it, and he turned to go back to his breakfast. When I insisted he stared in amazement, but took the message. I produced my five £5 notes, which were declined as not being legal tender, and my message was handed back. Stomati argued and swore, and I offered my watch as security, but no; “pay in Roumanian bills or there shall be no cable sent.” The banks did not open till ten, which would delay my wire two hours, and perhaps lose the afternoon edition. Stomati turned his pockets inside out and unearthed 20 Roumanian gold pieces, which I confiscated and sent a short wire to London: “Hold space for thousand words Russia. Filing in hour.” This to prepare the office so that if my wire arrived at the eleventh hour, there would be a place in the forms all ready to slip it in. Having got this off, I started out with my five English notes to get a quick action change to Roumanian coin of the realm.