Chile is a narrow strip of country, 2,600 miles long and about 250 miles across at its widest, between the lofty Andes and the blue, blue Pacific.

In many ways Uncle Willie and I were just like all the other tourists in Argentina. Always in a hurry, we saw too much, digested some of it, but left the real national mystery, the full flavor of Argentina, untouched by our swift passing....

“One cannot see a country,” Uncle Willie said, “by staying in its largest and most popular city. We must move on. Travel is broadening.”

Argentina rolls South along the long, lean east coast of South America, right down to the butter-horn A shape of the Tierra del Fuego, blue with fury and wind and ice.

We got to Dover, Delaware, at midnight, and what we saw of the town in 1920, when Gramp and Mama and myself were touring in our old car, is most likely what the town looks like today.

For me, there are only two cities in America that have special grace and flavor that rise above the flat level of living in this wonderful country. They arc San Francisco and New Orleans.

Gramp always had an idea, in 1920, when he and I and Mama crossed and recrossed America, why the covered wagons went West and didn'r come back.

I never see San Francisco without getting a bang out of the hills wrapped in mist, the houses clinging to their steep sides, the gray-silver skies, the sweep of sea on the Golden Gate.

Going west from Denver in 1919, even in our new Studebaker, wasn't easy. The roads were a mockery of the word road.