Seven Seas Magazine - December 1932

Front Cover, December 1932 Issue of The Seven Seas, Published by the North German Lloyd.

Front Cover, December 1932 Issue of The Seven Seas, Published by the North German Lloyd. Cover Drawing "The Tyrol" by Frank Lieberman. GGA Image ID # 128edd9d9c

The Seven Seas, Vol. 10, No. 4 for December 1932. Photographs include: The Sphinx at Memphis Egypt; Boats on the Canal in Venice; Women in Costume in a Horse-Drawn Wagon in Bavaria; Paris Night Scene from Sacre Coeur; Midnight Supper in Paris; Trumpeter of the Guards in London; The Horses of St. Mark's in Venice; Young couple enjoying a Ski Luncheon in Tyrol; Young Woman skiing Under the Midnight Sun in Sweden; Cross-Country Skier in Voralberg; Cross-Country Skiers - Dreiländerspitz; Wine Pedler in Werder (Woman inside a large keg); View of the Crows Nest on the SS Bremen; Dejeuner in a Paris Café; J. P. Morgan on the S. S. Europa; Captain Ziegenbein with Miss Wera Engels on the SS Bremen.

Travelogue

I COULD LOOK through the windows of the lounge and see the people in clusters of cards and coffee and liqueurs; colors interspersed with spots of black, all interwoven with stewards in white; and the men of the orchestra immersed in the music from "Aida."

The lights of the lounge and the sounds of voices and violins poured prettily out upon the promenade where I sat waiting for the beacon of Damietta to appear; and a soft, warm evening sat upon the sea, leaning in its raven wrap right against the liner's rail.

. . And I remembered the morning when I had peered out of the train from Paris, suddenly to see across the Normandy meadows those two tall towers of Chartres. And the Christmas Eve at twilight on the winding railway from Grenoble to Aixles-Bains when for the first time I had seen the Alps: the Alps which that evening was white, then rose, then blue; and then, before we came to Aix-les-Bains were silver in the moonlight, making many of us on the train forgetful of our homesickness and our uniforms.

Then I remembered once having happened to look through my porthole, for no particular reason, to find myself face to face with the Rock of Gibraltar, and a few days later having looked up from some sort of a game to see, quite by accident, Vesuvius.

And I could recall, as 1 sat here now in the semi-darkness of the deck, the night I first set foot on England, at some side-door on the Irish Channel — Holyhead perhaps; landing half-awake from the Dublin boat and waiting for the train to start until everyone had had his tea.

And this reminded me of my first amazement at the vegetation that covered everything in Ireland, and of the tender rain that would suddenly fill the sunlight with rainbows.

And I remembered arriving at Oxford, stepping olf the London train at the same platform onto which Zuleika Dobson had descended, hearing the same innumerable bells at noon, and being hypnotized by the identical immaculate antiquity.

I remembered that first tremulous taxi ride from the Gare du 1'Oucst to the Deux Maggots, trembling with excitement. And waking up one morning on the Oriental Express at Ulm, and our progress past painted villages and cities of incredible neatness to Munich; then the first deep quenching of my thirst with Augustinerbräu.

And all the while these first impressions of places were passing through my mind, I was carefully watching for the light of Damietta. This I knew had no particular sense.

I wouldn't see Egypt until the next morning in Port Said, and I wouldn't sec the pyramids until after I had had luncheon at the Continental in Cairo, and I wouldn't see the shadows of the pyramids creeping slowly across the racecourse until late in the afternoon, and the last camel race was over.

Then suddenly a tiny sparkle like an undecided star appeared in the dark distance. That was all that I could see. And this I say to the last few measures of the music from "Aida."

People were passing along the promenade, but none gave any sign of having seen the light of Egypt, or of being aware that Egypt was hovering off there in the blackness.

Then the orchestra swept into the waltzes from "Die Fledermaus," and when I stood up and looked through the windows of the lounge, I could see people pausing to sip their wine, and a nice old gentleman over in the comer was having a stein of light beer.

R. P.

Women in Costume in a Horse-Drawn Wagon in Bavaria