My friends looked at me with surprise. They had heard only the lyrical chorus of their countrymen accompanied by the jingle of francs. “You're right,” said the lumber king. “I thought that I'd try to live here a few years because I can't find enough playmates in America; every one is busy there. So I thought I'd come over here and study and fool around. It's done me good.” “Fooling around is better than nothing if done with energy and vigor,” I suggested. “A capable fool-arounder isn't worth much, but he can keep his liver busy. Here they have professional fool-arounders with gold letters on their caps to set the pace. It's all right for a while, but you'll want to get back to the lumber business.” “Maybe you're right, but Europe has done me a lot o' good,” said Mr. Pike. “The cure up at Kissingen fixed my stomach trouble. Cost like Sam Hill, but it knocked it out.” “What was the cure?” I asked. “Made me walk _ten_ miles a day, and take baths and give up pastry, and go to bed at nine.” “And you had to travel four thousand miles and give up a lot of good American money to learn that?” I asked. “Old Doctor Common Sense, assisted by a little will-power, would have done that for you without charge right in your own home. Is it possible that the old doctor has gone out of business in Prairie du Chien?” “He died long ago,” said the lumber king. “We have to be led to water like a horse these days.” “We follow Cook in the trails of Baedeker instead of following the hired man, and we value everything according to its cost,” I answered. “But it's good for the Yankee to travel in a pieless world.” “Travel is such a wonderful thing!” exclaimed Mrs. Fraley, who preferred to paddle in the heavenly gush-ways. “Don't you _love_ Italy?” I took off my mental shoes and stockings and began to paddle with her. “Grand country!” I splashed. Then she lay down in the stream and got wet all over as follows: “It's so wonderful! I love the churches and their music, and mosaics and statues, and the palaces and the nobility,” Mrs. Fraley chanted. “These well-bred Italians look so aristocratic!” “And they act so aristocratic--nothing to do but eat and drink and sleep and dance and get married!” was my answer. “We're rather careless about those things in America. A real aristocrat always gets married very carefully and so rescues himself from the curse of toil if need be. We don't take any pains with our marrying. We marry in the most offhand, reckless fashion just to gratify our emotions.” “We forget that a dollar married is better than two dollars earned,” said Betsey. “And isn't soiled by perspiration,” I said. “In this room are some of the shrewdest marryers in the world--men who by careful attention to the business have amassed fortunes. Here, too, are some of the most promising young marryers in Italy. They are sure to make their mark.” “Indeed! You must tell me of them,” said the good soul.