^ , v N -•••>- O. Si' ^ v v ^6* _ \^WK • V A SUMMER IN EUROPE. BY / MARY H. WILLS. ■ NtHCST PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 1876. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by MARY H. WILLS, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS WASHINGTON PREFACE. In the accompanying letters I have endeavored to give an honest and unprejudiced description of sights and scenes abroad, avoiding in a measure the stereotyped praise heaped upon everything foreign. My observations have mostly been con- fined to the people, their habits and modes of living. The four months spent in the Old World were rich in instruction and full of enjoyment, but I feel that a hasty glance was too often given where there should have been careful study. A most fortunate train of circumstances com- bined to render the trip a success. My compan- ion and myself were blessed with the traveler's best capital, — good health, good weather, and good spirits. England, all dewy and fragrant with the hawthorn-bloom, welcomed us in June; in July 3 4 PREFACE. we plucked the Alpenrose in Switzerland ; and when the heather purpled hill and dale we saw the land " Where Scotia's kings of other years, Famed heroes! had their royal homes." M. H. W. Norristown, Pa., 1S75. CONTENTS. I.—ON THE- OCEAN. page Sea-sickness— Miss Borg, the Translator— Motives for Travel —Off Queenstown— Sunday Morning Service on Ship- board ....•••••• 7 II.— CORK— KILLARNEY— DUBLIN. Beauties of the Emerald Isle— Blarney Castle— The Jaunt- ing-Car— The Lakes of Killarney— Gap of Dunloe— Beggars — Irish Eccentricities . . . • • I 7 III.— LONDON. Madame Tussaud's Wax-work Show — Guildhall — St. Paul's The Tower — Kensington Museum — English Character and Customs— The London " Times"— The House of Commons— A Day at Twickenham 33 IV.— A DAY AT ASCOT. The Annual " Meeting"— The Royal Family— The Races and their Admirers, etc S 2 V.— LONDON. The Metropolitan Tabernacle— Mr. Spurgeon— Gadshill . 59 VL— LONDON EXPERIENCE. The English at Home— Covent Garden Market— The Royal Mews — Bank of England — Underground Railroad — The Art Galleries— Brighton— Isle of Wight— London Places of Amusement ....•••• "9 5 6 CONTENTS. VII.— A WEEK IN HOLLAND. PAGE Rotterdam — Dutch Babies — Amsterdam — Character of the Country of Holland — Broek — Zaandam — The ''Bible House" at Amsterdam ....... 86 VIIL— BELGIUM— GERMANY— SWITZERLAND. Woman's " Rights" — Traveling in Europe contrasted with Traveling in America — A Glance at Antwerp, Brussels, Cologne, the Rhine, Frankfort, Homburg, Wiesbaden — The Mountains of Switzerland — A Furious Hail-storm . 97 IX.— PARIS. Life in the City— The Palais Royal— Versailles— Art Attrac- tions — The Champ de Mars — Dress and Shopping — Pere la Chaise — The Morgue — Louis Napoleon's Work, etc. . 113 X.— PARIS. The Catacombs — Industrial Exhibition — Theatre-Accommo- dations . . . . . . . . .128 XL— PARIS. Postal System — Ravages of the Commune — The Louvre — Column Vendome — Paris Streets . . . . -135 XII.— PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. A Visit to Worth's — Places and Objects of Interest . . 142 XIII.— THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. Return to London — Windsor — Warwick Castle — Kenil worth — Stratford-upon-Avon — The Shakspeare Inn — Chatsworth — Feeling of the English towards America . . .156 XIV.— SCOTLAND. Edinburgh — The People — Intemperance — The Trossachs — Lochs Lomond and Katrine — Lake Windermere . .165 A SUMMER IN EUROPE, i. ON THE OCEAN. Sea-sickness— Miss Borg, the Translator— Motives for Travel- Off Queenstown — Sunday Morning Service on Shipboard. Despite the monotony of life on board a steam- ship, there are some diversions. Sea-sickness, in the first place, is a capital promoter of sociability, and after the ice of formality is once broken you become more like a pleasant company of friends than a party of strangers. It is all very well when on land to sing " out on the ocean so boundless and free," but once there your buoyancy decreases, and the hardest, sharpest pangs come when you think of those at home ; and the remembrance of the tearful faces which from the wharf wave a long good-by has any other than an exhilarating effect. From their despairing words you might 7 3 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. think all on land immortal, and that only those who " go down to the sea in ships" encounter danger. The cabin was gay and redolent with beautiful bouquets and baskets of flowers, soon carelessly cast aside and faded. Our state-room revived home recollections for many days, although the modest bunch which there shed fragrance was not a model of the florist's art, but we knew it had been gathered and arranged by one whose heart was very tender and whose eyes were dewy with unshed tears. In the inevitable sea-sickness which comes, all sense of danger is forgotten, and as there are some scenes which must be seen to be appreciated, this peculiar disease must be felt to be understood. It comes without any symptoms, is sharp and ter- rific, and departs without any convalescence. I heard a story once of a young man who said, after taking a young lady out sailing, that " he had no idea there was so much in her." I thought it a very clever joke at the time, but I never fully saw the moral of the tale until now. This state of semi-invalidism is an excuse for the most absolute laziness I ever saw. You have ON THE OCEAN. g no duties, and all day long when it is fair you sit on deck and watch the clouds and waves ; but at night, when you remember your helpless condi- tion, the frailness of your bark, and the treacherous water which dashes so tempestuously around, — ah, who could be careless and thoughtless at that solemn hour? The vessel rolls and pitches in obedience to the billows, the machinery creaks and groans, and above all is heard the shrill voice of the sentinel as he proclaims, " All is well." Among our passengers is Mons. Caubert, the French Commissioner to the Centennial Exhibi- tion, who is returning home after a stay of but eight days in our country; but during that limited period he has visited our principal cities, and returns to report to his government the impres- sions he has received. The most notable woman we have aboard is Miss Selma Borg, well known as the translator of Swedish and Finnish novels. She goes for the summer to her home in Finland. We find her a talented, warm-hearted woman, full of enthusiasm in regard to America and her institutions, yet always mindful of her people and her native land. IO A SUMMER IN EUROPE. She goes to labor for the Centennial cause, to arouse her countrymen to the importance of their having a proper representation at that time. Despite the apathy of the Russians on the sub- ject, she is determined that Finland shall send specimens of her arts and manufactures. " How shall I go to my family," she said, in her beautiful patois, "how satisfy them about your great land? They will ask me of your government, your public schools, woman's suffrage, social science, and all the great topics of the times; and although I have been among you fifteen years, they have been so crowded with work, that I feel I know nothing thoroughly." Miss Borg is a strong, vigorous thinker, a woman of large heart and intellect. She is an ardent reformer and searcher after the truth. In connection with Miss Marie A. Brown, she has translated the novels of Madame Schwartz and Gnstav Adolph, and has lately made a collection of the lays of Sweden and Finland, which are full of feeling and replete with melodic sweetness and beauty. The weird character of the songs of the Norsemen as interpreted by the Swedish Nightin- gales, Jenny Lihd and Christine Nilsson, has ON THE OCEAN. ! j created in our continent a desire for their transla- tion, and Miss Borg has given them to us in all their wild, quaint, plaintive beauty. She tells us much that is new, interesting, and instructive concerning Finland: of the days which commence at two o'clock in the morning and last until ten at night, of the fierce cold of the winter, and the warm, beautiful summer, when in three months they sow the seed, have the blossom, the fruit, and the harvest. She describes her people, so primitive in their habits, simple in their tastes, and noble, honest, and loving. But she expresses her determination to spend the remainder of her days in the land of her adoption. Her lines have fallen in pleasant places, for she has made friends with the Quakers of Philadelphia. But no lan- guage of mine can express her enthusiasm of words and manner when she speaks of the " dear people among whom I passed my time." Her compaguon de voyage is a countryman, Mr. Fager- strom, a genuine specimen of the men of the Norseland. He has spent seven years in America in the study of machinery, and goes home to put in practice the knowledge he has gained. But I think there lurks in his heart a fear that he will I2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. not be content, after the hurry and enterprise in which he has so long mingled. The Americans are described as a wandering people ; and really traveling instead of satisfying them seems to create an insatiate desire. Nearly all of our passengers have crossed the ocean be- fore. One gentleman is making his forty-first trip. The various objects they have in view are freely discussed-. The majority are bent on pleasure. One lady, inclined to obesity, announces that she is going abroad because they walk so much more there than in America; although why her limbs could not be used for that purpose in her own land she does not explain. Another, because her daughter is never well excepting on the Continent. And still another, the mother of a beautiful girl, tells us, with an air of solemnity, that she is taking the dear girl away to prevent an engagement. A dignified-looking matron, whose life seems given to wandering, gravely announces that after living in Europe a person is never content anywhere else; to which our hearts respond, in the solemn language of the Litany, " Deliver us." When you receive this letter from sea, you may know we are on land, and, that land being Ireland, ON THE OCEAN. l ^ a " bull" is the first thing in order. We expect to learn but little new or surprising concerning the people of Erin. Opportunities at home have not been lacking to enable us to gain a thorough knowledge of their characteristics. But we want to see the Irishman on his native heath, in "the beautifulest counthry in the wurruld, ma'am," to study the surroundings which fit him to despise all but the best after he lands on our shores, and to hear genuine Milesian wit and humor exercised at other expense than pur own. What our im- pressions are you shall know, with naught set down in malice. Our hearts grow very full when we think of the miles of tempestuous water between us. We have left our treasures among you, and where they are there are our fondest thoughts. We can only be hopeful that the months before us may be marred by no untoward circumstance, but be rich in inci- dent and instruction, the fruition of years of desire. And until we see you all, dear friends, let us say, in the language of Tiny Tim, " God bless us every one!" Our watches mark seven o'clock Philadelphia I4 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. time, but the bell sounds the hour for morning service, and we assemble quickly and quietly in the saloon. The tables are spread with prayer- books, and, there being no clergyman on board, the captain conducts the service. Free to all, the steerage passengers come troop- ing in, a motley crew indeed. Men worn out with disease and labor, who are going home to England to die; women whose only success in the States has been the raising of three or four children ; girls, dirty and unkempt, and the attendants of the ship, are all gathered in. Israelites we have among us, who sit beside the Gentiles, and Catho- lics who reverently bow to the service of the Established Church. And is it not fitting that we all mingle to-day on common ground? Our perils have been shared alike', and not only this port to which we are now destined, but our eternal haven is the one desired by all wayfarers, and the words of the gospel break upon our ears with a clearness and conviction hitherto unfelt : " And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity!' Then comes the familiar hymn, melodious, yet a blending of untaught voices. Men unused to the outward form of worship first ON THE OCEAN. jr hum softly, then join with heartiness. A tear seems trembling in some lines, yet the strain goes on, and each one feels " Nearer, my God, to Thee." One poor woman, whose face tells a tale of sorrow and it may be privation, but whom nature has gifted with a powerful soprano voice, lifts it rever- ently up and sings from memory each hymn. O ye who safely sit in church and hear your rector send up the petition to the " Eternal God who rulest the raging of the sea," however heartily you may join and fervently respond to it, you will never know its full significance until you are on the restless ocean, without a thing to gladden the eye, the tempestuous billows tossing around you, and the sky calm, beautiful, yet afar off over all. When your hearts are attuned to the solemn mur- mur of the waves, then, and then alone, will you understand the petition for " safe conduct to the haven where you would be." The sea is rich in gems and ores which she has engulfed in her treacherous bosom, the lofty and the lowly are on one plane when she is lashed into fury, and the living freight which to-day she bears upon her breast carry with them a wealth of love and hopes, the measure of which is untold. j6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. Captain Clark tells us that his practiced olfac- tories already discover the land-breeze. We take his word therefor, but, Yankee-like, " guess" his log has quickened his sensibilities. At Queens- town we expect to leave the " Indiana," and, while we cannot profess regret, we will waft her gay " good-byes" as she goes on her way, and " praise the bridge which carried us safely over." IT. CORK — KILLARNEY DUBLIN. Beauties of the Emerald Isle — Blarney Castle — The Jaunting- Car — The Lakes of Killarney — Gap of Dunloe — Beggars — Irish Eccentricities. Dr. Johnson has defined a ship as a prison in * which there is a chance of drowning. This seems an exaggerated comparison ; but really no one ever feels the sense of freedom more fully than when the feet once more press the land after an ocean passage. To do once more as you will, and in comparative security, — oh, it fills you with a strange delight. We had little to complain 'of. Our voyage had been calm and pleasant, without the least sign of danger from outside causes. We had formed new and pleasant acquaintances. Yet on Monday morning, May 31, when we awoke to the glad tidings "land in sight," all hearts were light and faces bright. 17 jg A SUMMER IN EUROPE. Our companions gayly waved us adieu from the steamer as we took the tug for Queenstown, which soon reached, our feet for the first time pressed Irish soil. We sailed up the river Lee for Cork ; and my pen almost falters when I attempt to convey to you some idea of the beauty of its shores. The " Emerald Isle" is rightly named, and as far as the eye reaches is a gem of purest ray and a scene of quiet bewildering loveliness. The foliage is of a bright peculiar shining green, not a leaf stirring, no underbrush or stunted trees, and the hedges, the only dividing line, gay with bloom and sweet with perfume. You cannot imagine the delicacy and beauty of the hawthorn, completely covered as it is with white, pink, and mottled blossoms, nor describe the yellow fringe of the graceful laburnum and stout furze, which give such infinite variety to the landscape. Every house, however humble, is overgrown with ivy and rose-embow- ered ; -every lawn is smoothly shaven and as fresh as though the rain had just ceased. The roses here grow to a height and size unknown with us, and the gardens are at least a month earlier than our own. Fuchsias, geraniums, lobelias, nastur- CORK—KIL LAKNE 3 r — D UDL ZA r . T g tions, wall-flowers, and several quite new to me, are most generally cultivated. What most strikes a stranger is the desolation of the country so far as inhabitants are concerned. There appears to be no middle class in life, or if there is they have no homes, for the land is divided into immense estates, owned by noblemen, who spend their time in London, and whatever labor is performed is by tenantry who live in the most abject poverty. Their houses are but one story high and straw-thatched, with pigs, chickens, goats, and the ever-faithful donkey in close prox- imity. In case of fire a pool of water which is near the door would be found very convenient. But the cities are filled to overflowing, and you will fail to form an adequate idea of the vast con- glomeration of vice, rags, poverty, and riches they contain, until you visit Ireland. It impressed us as a world deserted by all save a few left to beg and show the country to strangers. And yet there is a sort of justice in the matter when you come to consider how many foreigners annually flock to our shores to attend to our domestic and industrial interests, while we traverse so many weary miles to see the land they have quitted. Croakers are 20 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. wont to prophesy that the time is coming when we will be overrun with aliens. Should this prove true and their rule become unbearable, I know of no better refuge than the sea-side counties of Ireland, for they are absolutely depopulated. The people tell you that Pat in his own home, and the same individual after he returns from Amcriky, are won- derfully different individuals. Here he is civil, obliging, polite, and deferential. Need I photo- graph him when transplanted ? The truth is, he has been a subject so long he deports himself most royally when he comes to be a sovereign. Cork, one of the principal cities, is just such a place as you would think an Irishman would build when left to his own taste and devices. It claims to belong to no school or mediaeval age of archi- tecture. Poverty and riches are side by side everywhere. The streets are so narrow and crooked that it must have been design, and the houses of all styles are dirty and smoky. Beggars barefooted and ill-looking ply their vocation in the principal business streets ; fish-women expose their commodities on the sidewalks; donkey-carts jostle cabs ; old women appeal to your sympathy and attempt to delude you to purchase trinkets, CORK—KIL LARNE Y-D UB L IN. 21 and knots of great able-bodied men stand idly around. In attendance on almost every donkey- cart are at least three stalwart fellows, and there is such a strange incongruity between their size and that of the poor little beast who pulls them, beside his load, that you feel strongly inclined to advise them to change places with him for a while. One thought struck me : in this country, which is justly celebrated for the production of such good and beautiful stockings, fully three-fourths of the peo- ple wear none; but no matter how ragged or dirty they may be, their clothing often consisting of but a single garment, they all this June weather wrap themselves in a stout blanket shawl or cloth cloak. But few of the poorer class of women even in the cities wear bonnets, and boys and girls alike pre- sent a marvelous combination of rags, dirt, and unkempt hair. This peculiar unsuitableness of dress is not confined to people of low degree. As there is but little variation of climate, the seasons bring about but little change of clothing, and many a lady have I seen this pleasant summer weather attired in lawn or linen who has increased her comfort by the addition of a sealskin sacque. They seem always to be expecting it to get cold. 3 22 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. Velvet skirts with percale over-dresses are quite common, and merinoes are worn with white lace capes. Some day when not so hurried I intend to describe some of the unique toilettes which I am now seeing. I take pride in saying that the most genteelly- dressed women I have seen are my own countrywomen. In a word, the choicest produc- tions of the Old World seem to be made on pur- pose for the luxurious people of America, who, as an Irish lady told me, " are all rich." I sighed plaintively and wished it true. After having seen Cork, the most approved thing is an excursion to Blarney Castle, a tumble- down ruin, five miles distant. At home a man likes to improve his house, takes pride therein ; here, the more miserable and dilapidated, the greater boast and fortune. You start out to secure your conveyance, satisfied that you are going to be cheated, when you find the prices collapse and expand according to your endurance. You parley and turn away, thankful at having escaped, but Pat turns up at the corner you least expect him, and wheedles and flatters you until you make a bargain. Mis rapacity is boundless. Give him his price, and he will still beg you for an extra CORK—KILLARNE Y—D UBLIN. 2 3 sixpence. Now, your initial ride in a jaunting- car is rather a serious matter, and requires careful consideration. It is embraced under two heads : first, how to get in ; and next, will you, when once in, be able to stay there? A little practice on a wood-horse before leaving home would most likely give you ease, grace, and confidence ; but, as she who deliberates is lost, you mount up in a sort of rectangular way, brace your feet firmly, and, grasp- ing the seat with one hand, keep the other disen- gaged to ward off danger. Part with any extra piece of raiment ere you relinquish your hold, for once lost it is never regained, as this style of riding is the most positive kind of exercise you can un- dergo. The driver jumps on and off regardless of speed, and whistles and chirps to his poor tired beast in a manner comical and entertaining. But the scene around you is so new and beautiful that you soon lose all sense of personal discomfort and enjoy yourself heartily. Pat does his best to ex- plain, but so rich is his brogue that scarce one word in twenty can you understand. The infinite variety of the flowers astonishes you ; they grow in such beauty and luxuriance, even by the road- side ; they are under your feet; you can pluck 24 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. them on every side ; and as far as the eye can reach, nothing but starry blossoms. You inquire the name of some plant not familiar to you, and instantly the horse is checked, and, with a look of wonderful intelligence and head thrust inquiringly to one side, Pat proclaims, " Indade, ma'am, I can't just make out." You make a suggestion, and whether right or wrong he seizes upon it, and, with as much assurance as though a descendant of Linnaeus, proclaims you. are right. But we are not getting to Blarney Castle, which was built in the fifteenth century, and but little now remains except the massive donjon and walls. Here is said to be the famous Blarney Stone, which endows whoever kisses it with the sweet, persuasive, wheedling eloquence so perceptible in the language of the people of Cork. I am like Washington Irving, who was always of easy faith in such matters and ever willing to be deceived where the deceit is pleasant and costs nothing, so I gave an attentive ear to the recital of the virtues of this marvelous stone. Our next stopping-place was by the famous Lakes of Killarney, and I will describe their beauty by comparison alone, for after nature has CORK—KILLARNE Y—D UBLIN. 2 5 arrived at a certain state of grandeur and romantic loveliness there can nothing surpass the scene. So when I say these far-famed lakes equal our own Lake George I can bestow no higher praise. The banks are thickly wooded, the waters clear as a mirror and almost undisturbed by a ripple, and the bosom dotted with such innumerable islands as to form a most enchanting scene. The boat- man gives you the names and history, legendary and romantic and imaginary, of ruined castle and abbey; points out the spots remarkable for deeds of prowess and renown, and makes a narrative rich with characteristic brogue and enthusiasm. The most notable excursion in the neighbor- hood is that to the Gap of Dunloe, a wild, mount- ainous pass, remarkable for the magnificence of its scenery, height and peculiar appearance of the mountains, clearness and beauty of the echoes, and importunities of the beggars. This entertain- ment is a tripartite agreement (how handy the word !) between guides, ponies, and boatmen to render life as uncomfortable as possible for several hours. You ride for five miles in a jaunting-car and are met by what the natives out of compli- ment call ponies, which you are instructed to 3* 2 6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. mount. It was evidently the editor's initial per- formance in the equestrian line, but the erectness of his carriage and dignified manner in which he handled the reins fully justified my expectations, and had he not so completely won my heart a score of years ago this day's achievements would have completed the conquest, — not that I take special pride in my portion of the day's proceed- ings, for my position was one of masterly in- activity, and the gray mare which I rode, instead of justifying the proverb and being the better horse, was both obstinate and lazy, but with one before to lead and another behind to goad, the journey was accomplished with an unexpected degree of comfort. My squire was a character, — almost every Irishman is, — and told me he was saving his money to go to America, and had all but fifteen shillings, but the ladies of my country were so good he hoped soon to have enough. This unexpected information was accompanied by a be- seeching glance, but I was deaf and blind. " Do you not find some very timid riders ?" I queried. "Yes, ma'am; but then the boys takes pertickeler good care of them," uttered with an air of sim- plicity worth about another extra sixpence. CORK—KIL L A RNE Y—D UBL IN. 27 But the beggars of that route beggar all descrip- tion. They creep from under the hedges, start from the corners, rush out of the houses, and beset and irritate you at every turn. All sorts of wares and relics are offered for your inspection; but the only purchase I felt inclined to make was a "shillelah," that I might instantly test its merits. Women, bareheaded and shoeless, despite the sharp stones, follow you for a half-mile, the everlasting blanket shawl gayly floating in the wind. At one time I counted six children in pursuit, screaming vocifer- ously for " money to buy a book." There is evi- dent complicity on the part of the driver, who generally slackens the speed of his beast when these vagrants appear, and who in obedience to our command struck wickedly at them, but man- aged to hit none. When about half-way, you approach a small cottage, and " Oh have ye not heard of Kate Kearney, Who lived on the banks of Killarney ?" But I am sorry to say the descendant who now occupies the place has not inherited her charms, nor her witching manners, but is a very common- 2 8 .A SUMMER IN EUROPE. place-looking old Irishwoman in petticoat and short gown, who importunes you, for the memory of her ancestor, to taste goat's milk, which, it is scarce necessary to tell you, we declined. Your credulity must be still further stretched when you come to Black Lough, for this is the identical spot where St. Patrick of blessed mem- ory banished the last snake from Ireland. "Ah," said a "rale ould Irish gintleman" to me, "had he destroyed the serpent which is eating the bone and sinew of our land, how much greater his work !" You know the old saying, — " Black Jacks at gentle buttry bars, Whose liquors oftentimes breed household wars." From the lower classes I find many inquiries concerning America, for all have brother, son, or sister there, who are supposed to be amassing great fortunes out of the wonderful wages they receive in that El Dorado. A servant-girl here and in England receives not quite a dollar a week, and as we sailed up the Lee I noticed laborers at work, though it was but six a.m. Another thing I have noticed. They have a most peculiar way of planting vegetables. Be- CORK—KILLARNE Y— DUBLIN. 29 tween every four rows they dig a trench, to allow " the air to reach the roots," as they say. So when next an Irishman digs your garden tell him to pattern after the " ould country," and see if there will not be an improvement in the produc- tion. The bread and butter are delightful, the former light and sweet, the latter fresh and en- tirely without salt ; and the table-linen such as to make a housewife envious. Nearly all the hotels in Ireland are kept by women, dames of mature years, severe in counte- nance and stiff in rustling black silk, with '* cap and feather high," who receive you with becoming dignity and issue their commands for your com- fort in imperious tones to a small army of clerks who utter the impudence which their mistress's looks imply. The Americans are the natural prey * of this class, who impose upon them without mercy. They unblushingly tell you they have one price for strangers and another for them- selves. A lady from New York said that her party were riding along in a jaunting-car, congratu- lating themselves on what we would call "cutting a fine figure," but in English parlance " looking 3 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. particularly smart," when a couple of ragged urchins crawled out from the hedge to inspect them, and, having scanned them from top to toe, the one nodded his head and uttered the signifi- cant remark, "American all through." Yet in the face of these impositions, which are known and commented upon, there are persons so lost to every feeling patriotic and true that they cannot be contented at home and think nothing so desirable as life abroad. Plow any one can travel here as economically as set forth in the guide-books I am at a loss to imagine, without they take the plan proposed by a wag of sleeping all day to save your board and walking all night to save lodging. In Dublin we found dry-goods fully as expen- sive as at home, and no desirable variety to select from, and the squares, about the only attraction in the city, are kept locked, a privileged few hav- ing keys. Facts are stubborn things ; and when we know some things to be true which we have heretofore considered idle rumors, we must almost acknowl- edge the justice of Kate Field's pungent remark, that "either all Americans are fools, or all the C0RK—K1L LARNE Y—D UBLIN. 3 t fools go to Europe," a fact which gives us special comfort just now. We meet so many parties composed of ladies, mature and young, dressed in mourning, that the thought will intrude itself, Have they come abroad to assuage grief, or has the death of substantial stay-at-home paterfamilias furnished them with the means for enjoyment? What we desire in this brief holiday tour is the experience of travel, that knowledge which can never be acquired except by actual contact with people, and a careful study of their manners and customs, together with an insight into the institu- tions of the country. We know the sun shines upon no land so great as our own, that our people are as refined and cultivated as you meet elsewhere, with every convenience at home and in traveling to make life infinitely more comfortable than you find here; and while we mean to search for and enjoy the works of art which it has taken years and thou- sands of lives and treasure to produce, yet each day we are filled anew with thankfulness that we claim the protection and privileges of the best country the world now knows. We have made a slight change in our pro- 32 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. gramme of travel as first laid down. The ini- tiated tell us that Scotland is quite deserted by the nobility, and as it may be our only chance of contact with them we shall hie to London, where it is now the height of the season, with all the great exhibitions and show-places at their best. So, leaving the country with its sweets of bud and blossom, we shall go to take a peep at the wonders of the metropolis of the world. III. LONDON. Madame Tussaud's Wax-work Show — Guildhall — St. Paul's — The Tower — Kensington Museum — English Character and Customs — The London "Times" — The House of Commons — A Day at Twickenham. Sight-seeing is hard work, but it is an immense satisfaction to realize the reading of a life-time, to come in contact with men, women, and places whose names are household words with us, and to enjoy the hospitality of the people who have a far more highly organized system of domestic service than we, greater wealth, and a regular graduated system of society. We have not yet become accustomed to the finish and perfection of everything here, mellowed down and beautified by father Time. We can never have the green turf or lovely flowers of England ; our torrid summers and frigid winters forbid it; we must get our beauty in other things, 4 33 34 A SUMMER JN EUROPE. and leave to them the peerless enamel of green grass, brilliant flowers, gray ruins, and graceful twining ivy. To say how London opens to us would be to write a history. First, the city itself, — the great- ness, the magnificence, the gay courtly life, the historical points, and the seemingly inexhaustible stores of museum, picture-gallery, library, church, abbey, and tower. But I am done generalizing; I mean to tell you how we inaugurated our campaign of sight- seeing by going to Madame Tussaud's great wax- work show, where we involuntarily stumbled over the old gentleman who sits so deliberately in the way and almost begged his pardon before we found he was wax, and gazed upon the sleeping beauty who breathes so mechanically, uncon- scious that the matron who stands curiously at our side is also a base presentment. In this unique collection America is well represented, and, while the figures are good, personal recollection and candor force us to admit that some of the like- nesses are lamentable failures. Next we went to Guildhall, where the Lord Mayor sits in his chair of state, entered the va- LONDON. nc rious rooms designed to hold minor courts, and crept into the cellar, for there was nothing too low or too lofty for our omnivorous appetites, and saw the great ovens where are cooked the mon- strous rounds of beef for the annual dinner; then turned to St. Paul's, the stately pile, with its me- morials to soldiers, sailors, philosophers, lawyers, painters, poets, and but one philanthropist, until we stopped before the tomb of its great architect, Sir Christopher Wren, and pondered over the in- scription to one who planned this mighty work and lived over ninety years, not for himself alone but for the public good. We then wended our way to the Tower, the saddest of all places in London, for to us it is not the monument of great but of cruel deeds, and has been the abode of those who suffered not only for liberty but for truth's sake. We stepped into the dreary, damp, unwholesome cell where Raleigh spent many sad moments, and paused to look at the spot once red with the blood of the unfortu- nate Dudley, whose crime consisted in being the husband of a noble lady. Here too closed the earthly career of beautiful Anne Boleyn, who united with " the innocence of childhood the so- 36 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. lidity of middle, the gravity of old age, and the life of a saint;" who heard her dire sentence with- out a murmur save that addressed to her God, " Thou knowest I have not deserved this death." In the cells you may read the inscriptions wrung out from grief-stricken hearts, yet in their sadness the solace of long weary hours. Oh, England is a great and powerful nation, the mother of a long line of kings and heroes, and in this treasure-house she gathers her trophies, but surely the blood which she has caused to be shed in ministering to her might will one day be required at her hands. Here are the records of her most warlike age, — knights cap-a-pie, and horses in armor, spears, swords, and shields, and all the paraphernalia of war, burnished and arranged with taste and care (could we forget their use !), arms left on many a field which was conquered and subject to the might of her royal will ; specimens of arms from India, Australia, Japan, but none from Yorktown. Everything to tell the tale of victory and sadness is here preserved. Next we attempted the Kensington Museum, and that in itself is a liberal education, for what- ever of curious china, gems, antiquities, pictures, LONDON: 27 or object of art any collector possesses, naturally gravitates there. No human strength can compass it in less than a week, for it is a square full of treasures, which, like the hairs of your head, are all numbered, but who can count them ? The value of this collection cannot be estimated, for once lost or destroyed they could never be re- placed. We loitered and gazed until, eyes worn out and feet weary, we strayed into the refresh- ment-room, unique in its kind, where they cook your steak before your eyes. Shall I tell what a merry party we were suddenly metamorphosed into, and how one bent on deception determined to appear thoroughly English by calling for cheese and mustard which she washed down with a mug of " 'alf and 'alf" ? Or how nearly a beefsteak came to separating man and wife, for the editor stubbornly clung to roast beef, while I preferred "grill," which fact necessitated a total dissolution for the time being; but having heard while on the steamer one who combined the wisdom and sa- gacity of an owl demonstrate to the entire com- pany that it was ordained by God and man that woman should be subservient to the male persua- sion, I succumbed, and took beef, bread, and Bath 38 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. bun, carefully counting- the cost, for economy is the rule and not the exception here ; but one and all registered a vow that if ever again they had the infinite variety of an American hotel fare to choose from, they would eat the whole bill through, beginning with soup and ending with toothpicks. The Britons deem themselves most excellent economists, and are wont to declare everything "frightfully dear." At their meals they neither have nor desire any quantity of vegetables or fruits. Beef, mutton, salad which they eat with salt alone, bread, and beer first, last, and always. No matter how scant the rest may be, men, women, and children have beer; so that I, who from principle and inclination drink nothing of the kind, am a sort of curiosity to them. But, I tell it with pride, they declare the women of our nation to be models of abstemiousness. The ignorance and curiosity of the people con- cerning America and her customs are, when you consider the constant intercourse, a most incom- prehensible thing. Fancy our landlady buying pork because she thought it would be a rarity to us ! Of a truth they seem rather loth to believe LONIWN. 39 any stories of the improvements, conveniences, and greatness of our land. Crossing Wales, a gentleman pointed out the Menai Suspension Bridge as a great curiosity to us foreigners, dwelling upon its wonders and merits, and advised a study of the structure, which has a stretch between the piers of five hundred and fifty feet. I let him tell his story in the hesitating English way, admired its beauty and strength, then incidentally described the size and cost of the bridges across the Mississippi at Quincy and St. Louis; but, as Dogberry says, "compari- sons were odorous." I expect in our constant walks and drives to parks, fetes, and places of amusement, we see many of the peers of the realm, but as our republican education has taught us only to distinguish na- ture's noblemen, we allow these golden opportuni- ties to pass unimproved. At Madame Nilsson's concert, at the Albert Memorial Hall, we saw gathered together the flower and beauty of the day. It was a thoroughly English scene. First the massive and magnificent carriage with coro- neted panels, and well-groomed, high-bred horses. " Jeems" and the lacquey upon the box, their hair 40 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. powdered or curled, and their well-developed calves nicely done up in silk stockings and knee- breeches, are wonderfully agile considering their dignity. They jump down and you see " my lady." But every one must be disappointed in their beauty, for the very conformation which makes the men so handsome renders the women to our eyes heavy and coarse. And then their horrid style of dress- ing would disfigure Venus herself. But this I suppose is treason, for the feeling of reverence for royalty and nobility is genuine, and any place consecrated by their touch is sacred. In the churches on Sunday go up the most fervent and repeated prayers for the preservation of the Queen and her family, while the people, who have all the temptations and most of the transgressions, are dismissed with a mere mention. Surely, said a very clever lady to me, you do not compare your distinguished men with the successors of a long line of kings and nobles ? Ah, no, my heart re- sponded; with us a man's education, actions and efforts fit him for any station and deservedly gain him fame; it would be great injustice to compare him to the weak and effeminate successor of a line of wicked and dissolute kings. I notice in West- LONDON. Ai 4 1 minster Abbey that they who glance hastily at the marble effigies of royalty linger longest and most lovingly in the poets' corner, and surely those names were what they made them. We have presented the letters so kindly given us by friends at home, and have in every case received courtesy and attention. We have no mission, political, religious, or literary ; we repre- sent nobody but ourselves ; yet in every case they are unexpectedly so kind and cordial that we no longer feel like " strangers in a strange land." The introduction of the valued Philadelphia cor- respondent of the London Times opened that great establishment for our inspection, and Mr. Mac- donald, the manager, left the business by which we knew he was surrounded to personally conduct us through the building, and explained the various labor-saving machines employed in getting out an edition of the paper. There are about one hundred and fifty persons at work in the mechanical preparation of the Times. There are two daily editions issued, the second going to press at one o'clock p.m. Its im- mense circulation consumes forty reels of paper, each reel containing four miles, or a total of one 42 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. hundred and sixty miles of paper each day. The paper is " set up" with types made in the office, the forms or pages being stereotyped for the presses. The latter are seven in number, of the Walter pattern, or invention, and are capable of printing twelve thousand papers per hour. It was one o'clock when we were there, and we witnessed a press in operation at this speed. Mr. Macdonald informed us that he was the inventor of this supe- rior machine, the first of which was in use in 1866, a whole year before any one not connected with the office knew of its existence. He has since made valuable improvements in it. They are manufactured under his personal supervision in the machine-shop connected with the Times build- ing. Mr. Macdonald says these presses perform the work of those previously in use with a saving of fifty thousand dollars annually. They have manufactured twenty-seven of these machines. About six pages of the Times are nightly set by five type-setting machines, but the most of this kind of work is done by hand. The wooden stands containing the type-cases had been in use one hundred and three years y and when we say that the galleys, imposing-stones, and other imple- LONDON. 43 ments, more familiar to printer readers, had the appearance of like age, they can easily form a cor- rect idea of the internal (I had almost said eternal) condition of the office. We were informed, how- ever, that new furniture would be placed in the new building, soon to be completed. There are to be seen the telegraph instruments usually found in first-class daily newspaper offices, but the reader of the Times , notwithstanding one number will sometimes give twenty pages of reading-matter (including advertisements) as large as the New York Tribune, will seldom see in it anything like the quantity of telegraphic news given in Ameri- can papers. Like the London papers generally the Times contains no large display-type adver- tisements, thus putting all its patrons on an equal- ity in this particular. The custom is a very wise one, and will eventually be generally adopted by newspaper publishers. We observed a person writing an index, or table of contents, and were told by Mr. Macdonald that this had been done with every issue of the paper since the year 1833, advertisements alone being excepted. The edition is nearly all sold to agents, who dispose of it to carriers and other retailers in every direction. 44 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. The paper is sold for threepence, — six cents, — and one number frequently is read by several cus- tomers, who pay a certain amount to an agent for the use of it for a prescribed time. But Mr. Mac- donald's kindness did not stop here ; for he intro- duced us to Mr. Walter, the principal shareholder in the largest — if not the greatest — newspaper in the world, who kindly gave us an order admitting to the House of Commons on the following day. The apartments assigned to visitors here are quite limited, and no one is admitted without first obtaining a permit from a member, or diplomatic minister. The gentlemen visitors occupy seats in the gallery at the extreme end of the hall, facing the Speaker's seat. There is seating-room here, however, for not more than sixty persons, on members' passes, but a like number of benches are in front of you, separated by iron railing, for the accommodation of persons admitted on card from the Speaker. Three rows of seats form the gallery opposite, almost immediately over the Speaker's chair, and these are used exclu- sively by the reporters, the Times having two. The seats on either side are for members, and are usually without occupants. Ladies are not LONDON 7 . 4 c admitted to seats at all within the House, but are placed in stalls or boxes immediately outside, with a screen, or open-work partition, before them,', through which they are permitted to hear and see what little they can. Their " gallery" in the Com- mons is immediately back of the reporters, but by special favor about six can be accommodated with seats in what is called the Sergeant-at-Arms Ladies' Gallery, in the rear of the seats for gentle- men. Feeling like a prisoner, I went behind the bars, and, although but about three feet from my companions, recognition from within was impossi- ble. Indeed, obtaining admittance to Parliament, especially for a lady, or, more properly speaking, with one, is quite a formal proceeding. Mr. Mac- donald remarked, " Had there not been a lady in the case, I could have managed the matter at once; but the British Parliament is not gallant." And his comment is literally correct. To an American the way of conducting business and the habits of members of Parliament are both interesting and in a degree ridiculous. Upon en- tering the House they remove their hats and after saluting the Speaker replace them. Upon long, upholstered, bench-like seats, on either side of the 5 46 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. room, the Government and the Opposition facing each other, they arise and quickly taking hat off, frequently half a dozen or a dozen at once, at- tempt to get recognition by the presiding officer. The unsuccessful ones are immediately reseated, and with hats readjusted give the same attention to the honorable member speaking as usually ob- served in our own National representative body, with this exception, that at frequent intervals the members are crying "hear, hear," to whatever of particular interest the speaker may say. This is frequently done in so loud a tone that persons in the gallery are unable to hear the member hav- ing the floor. This manner of applauding would certainly be very annoying to a speaker unused to it, but the dozen or more short speeches we listened to were not of that oratorical character or excellence to be marred by such interruptions. The question or clause in the bill under discus- sion was in reference to the pay of sailors' wages, and most of the speakers were, or at one time had been, ship-owners or merchants. Considerable personal altercation frequently occurs, and in this instance one member charged another with being ignorant upon some point, when the latter re- LONDON. 47 torted, " I see by this book that the gentleman was born in the year 183 1. In 1832 I was in business in Calcutta." This "brought down" the House with laughter, and was no doubt a "settler" for the young and ardent honorable member. There are three clerks, who are kept busy and whom we recognized by the white wig. The Speaker puts the question, and the clause in the bill, if unimportant, is adopted quickly and with simply " Those in favor say Aye — contrary, No. I think the Ayes have it." When a division is called, two tellers are appointed, and the mem- bers leave the hall, when walking through a narrow passage in an adjoining room their votes or num- bers are taken. Returning to the House the result is announced. The Commons usually meets at four p.m., but sometimes has a "morning session," com- mencing at two p.m. and adjourning at seven p.m., but when this occurs it again convenes at nine. The night preceding our visit this body was in session until after three o'clock in the morning. On Wednesdays the Commons is in session from twelve to six p.m., the House of Lords not at all ; while neither body sits on Saturdays. My next chapter I intend to devote to West- 4 8 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. minster Abbey, or the Ascot Races, two widely diverse subjects, but equally objects of interest here. Not that I can convey to you a tithe of the grandeur and solemnity of the venerable Abbey, so rich and full of associations and memories, or make you realize the solemnity of the service, but I can tell you how we were awed and hushed by the marble companionship of Shakspeare, rare Ben Jonson, Sheridan, Handel, and Gray, — that the place seemed peopled with memories which subdued and saddened us, for we remembered that even genius was but mortal. Amid so much generalizing I am almost for- getting the curious, and have only time to glance at the British Museum, with its hosts of attrac- tions for scientists and people of every degree of intelligence. I really think there are exhibited there specimens of every known thing on the earth, and preserved the remnants of all things gone. In my verdancy I expected to see relics from the garden of Eden, and searched for a plas- ter cast of Adam's face. But how better close this hastily written letter than by a sketch of a day as near perfect in en- joyment and surroundings as ever falls to the lot LONDON. 40 of mortals, for the time was June, the place Twick- enham, at the beautiful residence of Mr. Beale, of the firm of James Carter, Dunnett & Beale, seed- men, London. With minds filled with Pope's villa, Strawberry- Hill, and the dilettante Horace Walpole and Lady Mary Wortley Montague, we started on our jour- ney and were received so cordially by our new- found friends that contentment was mingled with our most pleasurable anticipations. How shall I describe the house, picturesque and beautiful, filled with choice furniture, old china and bric-a-brac, or the lawn, smooth and turfy as only an English lawn can be, where we lunched and dined, — the garden blooming with roses, so fine that I fear you will think I romance when I tell you they measured fifteen inches in circumference, — the charming summer-house overlooking the Thames, which was alive with wherries, sculls, and steam- boats, and upon which we went boating in the soft, delicious twilight. And after all this was seen and enjoyed, we drove past the little church where Peg Woffington lies in silence, but not for- gotten so long as the almshouses she founded testify to her worth, until we reached Hampton 5* 5o A SUMMER IN EUROPE. Court Palace, the home which Wolsey in the height of his power and prosperity built for his use. But royalty brooked no rival, and that which was intended for the monument of his fame caused his fall. Over the archway are Wolsey's arms and motto, "Dominvs Mild Adivtor" while around are the busts of the Roman Emperors. Amid all this splendor, however, we can remember naught but his despairing cry, " Had I served God as faith- fully as I did my King, he would not have de- serted me now." We saw yards, I had almost said acres, of the finest needlework hangings, crumbling with age, hundreds of pictures, some of them almost beyond valuation, — saw the royal couches, satin-covered and embroidered, — then strolled through the gardens, as complete in their fashionings as when laid out to please the taste of royal William and Mary. The trunks of the ma- jestic trees tell the story of their great age, and in the grapery the gardener shows with pride the Black Hamburg vine, one hundred and ten feet long, the two thousand pounds of fruit of which are for royal palates. Said our host, and his opin- ion was one of undoubted authority, " I have great respect for the taste and judgment of the man who LONDON. ci planted these trees more than two hundred years ago, for he did it with an eye single to their future greatness ; and time has realized his expectations, for what was then unsightly has year by year become a thing of beauty which will be a joy for- ever." The evening came all too soon, and we turned our steps Londonward ; and just let me whisper it across the Atlantic, we took seats on the top of the omnibus, that we might see the great city with its myriads of gas-lights, rich shops, gay throngs of people, and brilliant places of amusement. How we bowled along seemingly over the heads of the people, in and out the crooked streets, killing none and wounding but few, until I exclaimed, "It takes almost as much talent to drive a London omnibus as to marshal an army." IV. A DAY AT ASCOT. The Annual " Meeting" — The Royal Family — The Races and their Admirers, etc. Good old England completely unbends from her dignity on Ascot week, and thoroughly goes for a " lark" on Cup-Day. It is a sort of national holiday, when every one's thoughts run in the same direction ; people don their best clothes, and every one goes not only to show himself but to see his neighbor. The railways leading to Ascot, — which place cannot be dignified by the name of a village, since the annual races give it all the importance it ever possesses, — in anticipation of a rich harvest, double their rate of fare, and the price of every article in the vicinity increases in a direct ratio. A drink of water costs two cents, but there is little demand for that article. It is the only place we have met the traditional John Bull. He was there in all his glory, in attendance 52 A DAY AT ASCOT. * « on the partner of his joys, and woe to any one who encroached upon him on platform or grounds, for he was quick to resent and mighty in wrath. At this monstrous gathering were all the monde, and I suspect some of the demi-monde. Rather than look odd, I meditated an English toilette, but could not accomplish it without a commingling of my entire wardrobe, so I was content to represent " Our American Cousin," and was completely en- grossed and bewildered by what seemed the bizarre appearance and total unsuitableness of many of the costumes. Remember, the grounds are in no way better adapted to this unique display of dress than our own agricultural fairs. There is grass, but it is dusty; seats, but they are rude and un- cushioned, the choicest ones without a covering; yet in the face of these facts the entire space within the enclosure was used as a promenade- ground by ladies in white silk en train, tarlatans elaborately trimmed and ruffled, the most delicate pink, blue, and buff silks, huge breastknots of flowers, opera bonnets, I have almost said, not matching their costumes, upon their heads, feet encased in satin or kid slippers, and protecting themselves from the sun by means of a Honiton 54 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. or point-lace parasol. The most costly thread and Mechlin lace trailed upon the floor, and garnet, purple, and black velvet swept the dirt from the ground. It was an elegant out-door fete, save when above the murmur of voices rose the noise of the gamblers and betting men, who made a second Babel with their cries. The grand stand is a most substantial affair. It is in reality the side of a hotel built to slope on one half from the roof down, which side is fitted with seats to which you gain admittance by means of a handsomely carpeted stairway. To this choice spot the modest admittance fee of one pound (five dollars) apiece is charged, and you may judge of Britons' zeal when I tell you that fifteen thousand tickets were sold at that gate alone. The police, of whom there were over three hun- dred on duty, managed the multitude with won- derful skill and ease. They formed into a solid phalanx and cleared the course with great dis- patch. The track, unlike those we have, is cov- ered with grass, so that there is but little danger of the horses falling. One of the finest features of the day was the A DAY AT A SCO T. 55 gathering of the carriages with their lordly occu- pants. You first heard the post horn "tally-ho," then saw the noble horses, richly caparisoned, generally four-in-hand, with the postilions gay in blue and scarlet, and the footmen in the drag, while inside and on top were perched these daintily dressed damsels. These carriages were formed into line along the course, the inmates occupying them the entire time. But this splendor of dress was not confined to the ladies. The gentlemen were in full ball costume. One provident party of three brought a change of hats in as many boxes. Think of that, ye damsels who are wont to be reviled for vanity, — a change of hat ! As though plaid trousers, coat tightly buttoned, buff kids, and an eye-glass, were not sufficiently irresistible ! It rained at intervals, but it was the clothes and not the enthusiasm which would have been damped had it poured all day. During shower-time lace and tarlatan were not by any means water-proof. Some of the dowagers had the most fantastically looped lace shawls, others were magnificent in black or gray satin and diamonds. At one-thirty it was evident the police intended to open the ball, from the excited manner in which 56 ^ SUMMER IN EUROPE. they urged, gesticulated, and pushed the people; and lo the cry was " hats off," for we were in the presence of royalty. The barouche drove slowly along the course, and the Prince and Princess of Wales, Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, and other members of the royal family bowed a smil- ing response to the greetings of their subjects. They took their places on the private stand de- signed for their use alone, and the business of the day commenced. In my opinion the racing part of the programme was a comparative failure. About one-fifth of the horses advertised appeared, the owners having the right to nominate from the list a limited number. There was but one heat each race, the distance from one to about two miles. The jockeys were most fancifully dressed, and from their colors you recognized the horse and bet accordingly. For instance, Doncaster, who won the gold cup valued at five hundred sovereigns, was ridden by a jockey in yellow satin shirt, white pants, and black cap; and Gunner, who took the second prize, was known by the orange shirt, purple sleeves, and white cap of his rider. They whipped and lashed the poor beasts, all striving to win the goal. Peo- A DAY AT A SCO T. 57 pie seemed wild, entirely forgetting decorum, bets were freely made and large sums of money changed hands. During the intervals the lunch on the lawn formed a novel feature. The butler spread the cloth on the ground and produced from hampers a most enjoyable feast. Mutton-pie, lobster, boned chicken, cold ham, salad, jellies, fruit, and dishes new to us, were open to view, and on the ground sat the high-bred dames enjoying this feast in true picnic style. The presence of the royal family of course added to the scene and increased the enthusiasm. The Princess Alexandra is deservedly popular, and her gentle, winning manners the theme of praise. The queen's persistent withdrawal from society pro- duces murmurs loud and deep from tradesmen, and her love of Scotland and free mingling there with the people, while she denies herself to her English subjects, produces unpleasant comment in' higher circles. Be that as it may, even those who blame her for not participating in the showy pageants of the realm bear testimony that on the whole she must be regarded as the most popular as well as most 53 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. sensible and best of all the women who have sat upon the throne of Great Britain. A late writer says, " Her speckless morality is the brightest jewel in her crown ; her undoubted love for Eng- land, her devotion to her husband living and dead, her love for her children, and her faithful devotion to her kindred and old friends, will remain to praise Queen Victoria even when the glories of her Indian empire, and the splendid pageants which she summons at Windsor when she enter- tains an emperor, or in London when she drives to her famous old church of St. Paul's — nay, even when the last grand pageant of all takes her to Westminster Abbey to lay .her beside her royal sisters Mary and Elizabeth : yes, when all these glories shall have faded from the pages of history and the minds of men, it will be remembered that she was a good woman, who passed through the terrible ordeal of her court, through the deprecia- ting influence of flattery and eye-service, and bore the temptations of enormous power without losing the respect of herself or her subjects." By five o'clock the last race is over, and then ensues the scramble for the cars and loading of carriages, for the great day at Ascot is ended. V. LONDON. The Metropolitan Tabernacle — Mr. Spurgeon — Gadshill. On Sunday morning we were attracted to the Metropolitan Tabernacle to hear Rev. C. H. Spur- geon. . This edifice, which looks like a Grecian temple, was opened in 1861. It was built by subscriptions obtained by Mr. Spurgeon. It has^' a six-column portico, and is one hundred and forty-five feet long, eighty-one broad, and sixty- two high. It is lighted by a lantern from above as well as from the side windows. Two deep gal- leries run around the interior, which is somewhat in the style of a concert-room. A semicircular platform, on a level with the first gallery, is used as a pulpit. About sixty-five hundred persons were present at the service, Messrs. Moody and/ Sankey among the number, they taking no part/ however, in the exercises. The congregation 59 g A SUMMER IN EUROPE. appeared to be from the working classes, with a liberal sprinkling of strangers. Although Mr. Spurgeon is well known in America, a pen-picture of him may not be unin- teresting. He is a short, thick-set man, of sallow complexion, with keen black eyes, iron-gray hair, and a full beard. His teeth protrude, which ren- ders the expression of his mouth unpleasant. His delivery is quick, but clear and impressive. Earn- estness is the key-note of his sermons, and his style is rather that of a religious exhorter than a logical thinker who delivers a carefully-prepared sermon. He deals largely iiv figures of speech, often adapting his ideas to the rhapsodical lan- guage of Isaiah. His reading is very clear, but the congregation follow him, Testament and Bible in hand, for he keeps up such a running commen- tary that unless you do so you are almost unable to determine where the inspired writer ends, or where his own remarks begin. It is a style pecu- liarly his own, any imitation of which would fall far short of the original in impressiveness. The hymns are selected from a collection by the pastor, known as " Our Own Hymn-Book." The singing is without any instrumental accom- LONDON. 6 r paniment, being led by a man standing next to Mr. Spurgeon. The words are adapted to old- fashioned tunes, in which the whole congregation join heartily. Let me instance the style. It was the well- known song of Dr. Watts : "• Plunged in a gulf of deep despair, We wretched sinners lay, Without one cheering beam of hope Or spark of glimmering day." " Restrain yourselves, dear friends," interrupted Mr. Spurgeon. " You will want more fire near the end. Now, softly, sing — " " With pitying eye the Prince of peace Beheld our helpless grief; He saw, and, oh, amazing love, He came to our relief." " Now, friends, the full burst of your music, and sing the last three verses right straight through," — which was done with a will, to the accompaniment of the pastor beating time with his hands and calling out to sing faster. The text was from Isaiah xliv. 23 : " Sing, O ye 6* 5 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. heavens, for the Lord hath done it," and the ser- mon therefrom might be called the expression of a grateful heart for the exceeding goodness of the Lord, who, as Samson, has taken our sins, a bur- den heavier than the gates of Gaza, and borne them on his shoulders. " Get a grip of that, my brethren, and you will have the mastery. Unless I was a Milton whose tongue was touched with a live coal from off the altar, I could never suffi- ciently sing the glories of Redemption. If I were a slave, I should think that word a sweet morsel to roll under my tongue ; but thank God who has made me free to sing 'the Lord hath done it.' If ever you are saved it will be by a salvation which Christ has done for you upon the tree. For you may wash in the Atlantic until every wave is reddened, it will avail you nothing; but 'Sing, O ye heavens, for the Lord hath done it,' for you and me, — for you and me." There was an indescribable pathos in the last sentence, repeating his words in most persuasive tones, which excited many of his hearers to tears' and amens. I can understand the great love and reverence Mr. Spurgeon's congregation have for him ; he is LONDON. 63 not only pastor but friend to all. There are now forty-nine hundred members! There is no con- cern of mind which they may not bring to him, sure of his interest and advice. For these labors he receives about four hundred pounds, two thousand dollars of our money, absolutely re- fusing to take more. Yesterday being Hospital Sunday, he merely announced the fact, adding, in his pungent way, " I never plead for hospitals, for I take for granted that my congregation, if they are not all Christians, have all some humanity, and the object is so good it commends itself." Mr. Spurgeon is not a scholarly man. His ser- mon from which I have quoted did not express learning, or elegance of style, but he is wonderful in his enthusiasm, and most persuasive in telling, after his manner of thinking, the story of the cross. He electrifies his hearers, and in his manner forms a striking contrast to the monotonous reading of the English church service. His language is bold and concise, conveying his exact meaning. Every available place in the church was full, aisle, galleries, steps, and over and under the desk were persons who could not see the speaker, yet were listening intently to catch every word. Knowing 64 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. we were strangers a man connected with the church approached us after service, kindly wel- comed us, and gave cordial invitation to come to the afternoon meeting, and even urged us to pass into the ante-room, that we might be greeted by the pastor, "who welcomes all." We declined, for naught but curiosity could prompt our visit, for a man with a parish of five thousand souls has no time to give to strangers. I cannot more appropriately close a religious sketch than by an account of a visit paid to Gads- hill. No pilgrims ever started for Paray-le-Monial with hearts more reverently attuned than ours when we went to the home of Charles Dickens. Now, I warn all readers who do not share my en- thusiasm on this subject not to condemn it. I am writing for that large class who loved the man and appreciated the genius which shows in every line of his works, — works destined to be known and admired wherever the English tongue is spoken, read, and studied by coming generations. I find now what suggested the characters which he so truthfully depicted. Any of the fraternity could recognize them. I have met Dombey, haughty and pompous, riding to the great city house which was LONDON. 65 his pride and boast. I knew Edith, unhappy and beautiful, when I saw her in the Park ; Carker was on horseback, bowing and showing all his white teeth ; and Mrs. Skewton's face, wrinkled but re- juvenated, nodded frightfully under a wreath of poppies; I recognize Copperfield's slight figure, when he waves adieu to Dora ; and Pip and Trabb's odious boy are perfect " conceits." On my way to the sea-side I passed Barkis and Peg- gotty, jogging in the cart, at least I was "willin"' it was them, and I found the street where Sairey Gamp lives, although it was not in the directory. At one of the grand homes I saw Susan Nipper's black eyes peering out, and each day the streets and by-ways which that pen taught me, and the trades and characters with which it familiarized the world, are so plainly before me that even in a city of four millions of souls I can know and enjoy them. You leave London by train for Rochester, the Cloisterham of Edwin Drood. Three miles dis- tant and up a long succession of hills stands the house; hence the name. The wall is so high that from the road little can be seen, but we held in our hands a letter, the signature of which was 66 A SUMMER IX EUROPE. open sesame at the gate, and we were admitted to Gadshill. The house is brick, two stories high, with no attempt at style, but comfortable and home-like. Windows and doors were invitingly open, and we stepped into the hall, broad and pleasant. The walls are covered with engravings and water-colors. On a table stands an exquisite Swiss clock, the gift, we think, of an admirer. In a frame, hung that it might attract every eye, we read, " THIS HOUSE GADSHILL PLACE STANDS ON THE SUMMIT OF shakspeare's gadshill Ever memorable in its association In his noble fancy with Sir John Fa I staff. But my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning early at Gadshill. There are pilgrims going to Canterbury , with rich offerings, and tradespeople riding to London ioith fat purses. I have visors for all. You have horses for yourselves . ' ' The study was on our right, a small octagonal room, lighted by a single bay window. From floor to ceiling it was all books. Even the door was shelved and filled, the keyhole being made LONDON. 6 - through a Quarterly Review. We read the fa- miliar names of ancient and modern authors, be- side a handsomely bound edition of the works of Charles Dickens. The servant showed us the drawing-room, but it was the study we came to see, and there we lingered, looked, and turned, with tender hearts. That there might be one spot where he would be entirely free from intrusion, Mr. Dickens caused to be constructed under the road a tunnel through which he could pass to a beautiful grove and flower-garden on the other side, and here was erected the curious Swiss chalet, so well known to his admirers. Here in this secluded spot, the world forgetting, he wrote, mused, and doubtless passed both sad and happy hours. We wandered round the garden, saw his familiar haunts, looked upon the scenes he so cherished, — they were all familiar to us, — and our love grew afresh and stronger for the heart which had prompted, the mind which had fashioned, and the pen which produced so many characters to teach, please, and delight us. We knew he was forever stilled, that the nation which so cherished him would have given him its highest honors had he 68 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. not forbidden it. In the old Abbey, surrounded by the monuments of Chaucer, Shakspeare, and Dryden, he sleeps his last sleep. Garrick and Richard Cumberland look down upon him, and, strewn with flowers from unknown hands, " this spot," in the language of Dean Stanley, " will thenceforward be a sacred one with both the New World and the Old, as that of the representative of the literature, not of this island only, but of all who speak our English tongue." " For mother Earth she gathers all Into her bosom, great and small ; Ah ! could we look into her face, We should not shrink from her embrace." 'Tis but a plain blue slab which covers him, there is no word to tell of his life and greatness ; his works are his best and most enduring monu- ment, and with eyes blinded with tears we read the simple inscription, — " Charles Dickens, Born Feb. 7, 1812. Died June 9, 1870." VI. LONDON EXPERIENCE. The English at Home — Covent Garden Market — The Royal Mews — Bank of England — Underground Railroad — The Art Galleries — Brighton — Isle of Wight — London Places of Amuse- ment. The average Englishman is abundantly content with himself and his country. When he feels par- ticularly hilarious he crosses the Channel, sees Paris, and returns devoutly thankful that he is an Englishman. They are not jealous of us, simply because they do not think we have either things or places worthy to compete with their time-honored^ institutions. Excepting in the way of profit, they are supremely indifferent to us. They call us a race of shopkeepers, but admit that the best and most expensive of their productions are reserved for our use. A prominent merchant told me that he had two good customers, Uncle Sam and the Prince of Wales ; the former paid his . bills 7 69 7o A SUMMER IN EUROPE. % promptly, but the latter did not. Said a very- jovial man, whom' we fell in with in a railroad- carriage, — and it is impossible in these odd little p compartment-cars not to make a companion of every traveler, — "The exultation of you Ameri- cans over your Declaration of Independence, and the subsequent results, always reminds me of the boasting of a child who had whipped his parent * and was glad of it." I find among American authors there is no name so highly honored as Washington Irving, because they say he had such a true appreciation of English life and character, and such genial humor in portraying it, that he has won an en- during place in their hearts. I met recently a very cultivated man, an amateur artist, who had made a number of etchings suggested by scenes in Irving's works. He forwarded a copy to Sunny- side, and had the pleasure of receiving an auto- graph letter acknowledging it and expressing pleasure thereat, which, when the date was exam- ined, showed it to have been written but four days before "Geoffrey Crayon" passed away to the bet- ter land, proving that, although so near death, he was still alive to the amenities of life. They praise L ONDON EXPERIENCE. y { the poems of Longfellow, announcing that he would prefer to live in Cambridge, England, to his own beautiful vine-embowered home in its namesake in Massachusetts. We are frequently interrogated concerning the religious condition of our country, so we stretch conscience and laughingly tell them we are all converted and sending missionaries to them; which really you might think to be the fact, from the number of exhorters from the States who, it is no exaggeration to say, are now attracting the attention of the English people. Moody and Sankey rank first, and no hall in all London can be found large enough to hold the crowds who flock to hear them. A friend who went to Brighton was attracted to the pavilion, and there reading the Bible and expounding its truths was Hannah Whitall Smith. We have been attending evening service at Westminster Abbey, and must bear testimony, after the manner of Friends, to the good doctrine, finished style, and simplicity of the sermons to which we listened. Neither the Lord Archbishop of York nor the Lord Bishop of Manchester searched the Scriptures for old-time sinners on whom to base their remarks and vent j 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. their wrath; they scourged the drawing-room in- fidelity of the present day, and took for texts the sublime sayings of the Man of Sorrows. What most surprised and delighted us was the absence of many of the forms and ceremonies which so frequently mar and distract the atten- tion in our modern church service. Here in the very " holy of holies" there was but little bow- ing, no posturings, and neither processional nor recessional hymns and banners. The hymns are printed en slips and handed round, that all may sing. Free as we boast ourselves, England is consid- erably in advance of us as regards the employ- m ent of women in the various branches of busi- n ess. But there should be fair play for women in a country governed by one. In Ireland, every h otel clerk' we saw was of the feminine gender. In theatres and places of amusement here the u shers and attendants are women. They also act as sextons. This seems to shock no one here, and I notice that no woman has lost one jot or tittle of her femininity by striving to gain an honest living. It seems really necessary that she should fill these places, for the entire working population LONDON EXPERIENCE. y <, of mankind is employed in driving omnibuses, tramways, underground roads, or waiting for some amiable stranger, for whom they have done nothing, to recompense them with a shilling. This morning about six o'clock we visited the Covent Garden Market, known to generations as the great mart for the sale of fruit, vegetables, and flowers. Most of the business is wholesale/ which causes to congregate a whole army of women and children in search of produce, which they distrib- ute over the whole city. Everything is brought to the market in baskets, and with an eye to beauty and freshness is packed in a kind of fine grass, which in course of time becomes strewn around and adds neither to the attractiveness nor cleanli- ness of the place. I can report the asparagus as large but hard and white, peas a small variety, rhubarb mammoth in size but coarse, and goose- berries the size of plums. The cauliflower is su- perior to any I ever saw, and the lettuce different from our own. The leaf is elongated and slightly curled, and even the stalk is entirely free from bitter taste. Potatoes of the Early Rose variety are sold at eighteen shillings per hundred pounds. Fruits are abundant but high in price. Strawber- 7* 74 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. ries at present bring from two to five shillings per pound. A variety labeled "President" seemed a favorite and the finest. They as well as cherries are most deceptively arranged in baskets, the best on top, the foundation blotting-paper, — to carry them without bruising, the dealer explains. Peaches ripened under glass bring a dollar a dozen. Apricots look delicious, but are hard, sour, and tasteless. But the dealers in flowers are certainly artists in their line, for they arrange their floral treasures so attractively that they not only please but de- mand attention. They mass the colors after the style of ribbon-beds, which is well calculated to display their beauty and vigor. Their roses are all choice varieties grafted upon hardy stems. This of course makes the top a mass of flowers. These form a background, and against them hang great bell-shaped fuchsias. Next a row of spirea, a fine, fringy flower, new to me. The leaf resem- bles a fern. Now come pelargoniums in their gaudy and infinite variety; next blue myosotis ; then a row of great scarlet geraniums and mig- nonette, the whole edged by a border of delicate lycopodium. I do not know that I have con- LONDON EXPERIENCE. 75 veyed the idea clearly, but indeed the effect is charming. The Royal Mews (we would call them stables in America) is thought to be one of the great attractions for London visitors. A card of admis- sion was obtained at Minister Schenck's office, and our company proceeded to inspect the stud at Buckingham Palace. Presenting ourselves at the main entrance, we were directed to write our names in the register kept for that purpose, which done we were given into the care of one of the several liveried persons whose business it is to show strangers through the building. At the time there were about one hundred horses in the stables, including thirteen for riding, splendid- looking animals, and the balance the numerous\ pairs of blacks, bays, and other colored animals driven on various occasions. The eight cream- colored stallions, used by the Queen when open- ing Parliament, presented in their stalls anything but a gay appearance. It had been fourteen years since Her Majesty performed this duty, or since the commencement of her widowhood. The mass- ive fire-gilt harness, like trie animals, was also dull and heavy. Hanging around was harness of all ;6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. descriptions, in the assortment a set heavily gilt- mounted, said by the guide to have been in the service of King George the Third. The various attendants also have their accoutrements, making the quantity as well as quality an object of surprise to the stranger. You are taken from the stables to the apartments containing the eleven or more state carriages, and the chariot built in 1 76 1, twenty-four feet long and with wheels six feet in diameter (the latter used only on great occasions, such as a coronation or opening of Parliament), to- gether with the numerous smaller family vehicles. Attached to the Mews is an enclosure in which the animals are exercised when necessary, and where also the younger fry of the family are taught to ride. At one end is a large chair where the Queen sometimes sits to view the perform- ance. Neither the stables nor the apartments for harness and vehicles were in as. good order as we have seen them elsewhere. Not being a judge of horseflesh, we supposed the one hundred head of stock were of the best. The vehicles numbered fifty-two, and some sixty men were employed at or connected with the Mews. Altogether the establishment is well worth seeing. You are po- - LONDON EXPERIENCE. 77 li'tely shown through it, and as your card contains notice not to offer a fee to the attendant, you leave without the inspection having cost you anything but the half-hour spent at it. The Bank of England is another of the institu- tions of London usually visited; but there is little of interest here. However, we had been given an order, on request, by our bankers to see it, and thus armed we presented ourselves at the entrance. Being handed over to an officer, after registering our names we were walked hastily through the several rooms. First is the apartment where the sovereigns and half-sovereigns are weighed, some half-dozen persons being engaged at this business. From here we were taken to the room where are canceled the notes paid in at the bank. A large force is continually employed in doing this, as a note once returned is never paid out the second time, but instead has a corner torn from it and after remaining on file seven years is destroyed. Fifty thousand dollars are sometimes thus can- celed in one day. Another room is devoted to printing the notes and also the blank forms, books, and stationery used. The note itself is about twice the size of our greenback, and of extremely 78 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. fine white paper, with very little and very plain printing upon it. But there is only the one mill in the country where the paper is made, and it is difficult to imitate and quite impossible to counter- feit the note without discovery. There is a special room for transacting government business, an- other for doing general banking, depositing, etc. There are also a stock side and a cash side of the house, the former where interest is paid, which is open from nine a.m. to three p.m., the cash side being closed to the public an hour later. There are fifty guards about the establishment, and hun- dreds of other employes. The principal officers are Governor, Deputy Governor, Secretary and Deputy Secretary, B. B. Greene, Esq., being the present Governor, an office the term of which ex- pires every two years and is filled in turn by the deputy. The underground railroad is one of the greatest accommodations in London. Persons living at a distance from their business take the car (or coach), and, as the speed is about thirty miles an hour, can reach it in ample time for the day's operations. In no other way can this be so readily done. The " tram" is found only here and there, as England LONDON EXPERIENCE. yg is slow to adopt any public improvement. The streets are filled with omnibuses, which, in the ab- sence of cars, are of course a great convenience, especially to strangers, who have an excellent opportunity to become acquainted with the city from a top seat, the 'bus being constructed to hold fourteen outside and but twelve inside. The " Hansom" is also a very popular mode of con- veyance, and thousands of them are to be seen. It is a one-seated vehicle on two wheels, with driver behind, who is obliged to convey either one or two passengers, when requested, in any direc- tion, at the rate of one shilling a mile or two shillings an hour. While Englishmen may be slow in many par- ticulars, in London they have not been behind in establishing societies and associations of a charit- able character, which have proved a great blessing to the people. Their hospitals, maintained prin- cipally by voluntary subscriptions, are numerous and most complete. Many of the poor find em- ployment as members of a society for cleaning front steps ; the bootblack is licensed and stationed constantly at particular localities ; an insurance company, one of the most successful, is entirely g A SUMMER IN EUROPE. officered by women. We might enumerate many similar commendable institutions. We spent a day at Alexandra Palace. We have no mission, but are giving considerable time and study to this class of buildings, that we may be able to compare our Centennial Halls with them. Within seven miles of London there could be few spots selected more celebrated for rustic beauty than Muswell Hill. Here have they erected what is justly called a palace. Every spot is alive with historic interest. They still show you a group of trees bearing the name of Johnson's Walk. The view to the north is unequaled. You see South- gate, of which Leigh Hunt wrote so charmingly "that it was a pleasure to be born in so sweet a village." To the left is Enfield, where Keats grew to be a poet and the gentle author of Elia died. Farther on they point you to Colney Hatch Asy- lum, and I wondered if that was where poor Mary Lamb spent so many sad days, and if those were the hills over which, strait-jacket in hand, she passed to voluntary bondage. Far off is all that remains of Epping Forest, and the memories of Coleridge, Lord Bacon, Wilkes, and Hogarth people the place with the dead of many years, LONDON EXPERIENCE. gj and we turn away full of sad thoughts, yet feeling that the scene has been one of unusual enjoyment and satisfaction. The last few days of our stay in England we have devoted to excursions in the vicinity of Lon- don. Not that we have exhausted the sights of the city, for one might study for years and each day unfold a new page of wonders. The galleries containing treasures from the brushes of Rubens, Angelo, Holbein, Landseer, Turner, and Dore, — think you they can be glanced over? Hyde Park, with its wondrous assembly of royalty, nobility, and commoners, magnificent carriages and thorough-bred horses; Rotten Row, with its troops of equestrians, male and female ; the end- less pageant of shops, with goods temptingly dis- played, and "so cheap;" the multiplicity of statues and monuments; the endless variety of parks and gardens, — can all these be seen in a few days ? On Sunday we drove to Kew Gardens, and saw the gigantic Victoria Regia lily, and a perfect series of palms, orchidae, in fact the flora of every land and clime, all thriving as in their native soil. The fuchsias are trained like grape-vines, and 8 g 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. equal them as climbers. But I will not attempt to describe : only say a garden covering seventy-five acres is worth a visit. You remember in "The Newcomes," Thackeray says, "It is the fashion to run down George IV., but what myriads of Londoners ought to thank him for inventing Brighton ! One of the best physicians our city has ever known is kind, cheer- ful, merry Doctor Brighton." It is indeed a place to forget the cares and turmoil of city life, a spot where you may wander for miles along the beach, looking out into the ocean, or walk on the far- reaching piers into the sea and watch the ships, yachts, and steamers which lie idly there. Just now England is as near wild as that deliberate place allows on the subject of aquariums, and the finest in the world is at Brighton. When I re- membered the cost, time, tanks, hard work by day and night, anxiety and debate, number of men and boys, which were necessary (?) to introduce one variety of fish into the Schuylkill, then I appre- ciated the magnitude of undertaking to collect and domesticate so many members of the finny kingdom as they have here. The fish are quite tame, and approach the glass, dive, swim, or rest LONDON EXPERIENCE. 83 with the same ease as though in subterranean kingdoms. But for a place of quiet, lazy comfort I know no better spot than the Isle of Wight, where, if so disposed, a week might be spent in tramping from village to village at one's leisure, and living at the country inns. The grass and shrubbery are green and fresh, the towns clean and picturesque, and the effect at Alum Bay, where the wonderfully colored cliffs contrast with the glittering mass of snowy needles, is very curious. At Ryde the pier and es- planade are wonderful in their way, and the harbor at Portsmouth is large enough to float the largest vessel in the world. Let me give you a specimen of cheap travel. You desire to cross from Ports- mouth to Ryde, a distance about twice as great as from New York to Brooklyn. You pay two cents to cross the pier, eighteen cents across, and four cents to land. Total, twenty-four cents. We would do all for two cents. London is literally full of places of amusement, in nearly all of which you are sure to be well entertained. Yet, notwithstanding the enormous prices, the demand for seats far exceeds the sup- ply. At the opera the nobility own all the eligible 8 4 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. boxes, so commoners must take what they can get. The theatres are small but beautifully fitted up, and every one, from the hero to "boots" and the chambermaid, a first-class artist. You may judge of the size of the stage when I say that in the play of "Nicholas Nickleby" they have in full view a hotel, mail-coach, four horses, post-boys, dogs, maids, and porters. But think of the prices: parquet two dollars and fifty cents per seat, first gallery one dollar and twenty-five cents, which, with twelve cents for keeping your bonnet (which they force you to leave) and twelve more for the programme, makes rather an expensive entertain- ment. The stage appointments are much finer than we have, — rich curtains, pictures, bronzes, statuary, India cabinets, and elegant Turkish rugs. Cab-hire, compared to our own, is cheap, — twenty-five cents a mile, or fifty cents per hour; and the streets are literally full of these vehicles. Would you go out? Make all preparations ex- cepting to the manner, open the door, and in two minutes "Cabby" has espied you, and, no matter how intricate the way, will drive you to your destination. LONDON EXPERIENCE. 3. The newspapers employ odd terms. They ad- vertise "Juvenile Outfitters," " Fruiterers," " Haber- dashers," " Poulterers," " Second-class Funerals," "Genuine Furniture," "Cash advances made to Gentlemen," "Sleeping Partners," "Dirty Law- yers," and a host of like terms. 8* VII. A WEEK IN HOLLAND. Rotterdam — Dutch Babies — Amsterdam — Character of the Coun- try of Holland — Broek — Zaandam — The " Bible House" at Amsterdam. The three weeks we spent in London were full of enjoyment and instruction, but " the best of friends must part," and on June 25 we turned our faces towards Holland, the land of dikes, ditches, and flowers. We could not have selected a more appropriate time to see a Dutch institution in all its glory, for Saturday, soap, sand, scrubbing, and scouring are indissolubly connected. Rotterdam, our first halting-place, is a queer, old, irregularly-built city. The houses are built on spiles, which in time settle, causing the fronts to lean forward as though about to topple over. The canals run all through the city. Bridges are used for crossings. There are but few pavements for foot-passers, the middle of the street being 86 A WEEK IN HOLLAND. 87 shared by horses and human beings. Labor is performed principally by women and dogs, and it is surprising what great loads of vegetables these two noble animals can draw. An American dame carefully dusts the front of her dwelling with gloves on, circumspectly closes the window and retires to the inner recesses where no eye can penetrate to perform the mysteries of her house- hold. But mark the difference. Here every branch of labor is in full operation in the street. Stout women were shaking carpets, rugs were being cleaned, washing done, knitting, fruit-pick- ing, peddling, washing and dressing children, women laughing and jesting, with heads heavily laden, while the thoroughfare was crowded with cabs and drays. Women and men wear clumsy wooden shoes, or else cloth slippers. The former were armed with long poles to which were at- tached tin buckets, and the water dipped from the canal for the grand window- and pavement-wash- ing which was in full play. It really seemed as though a second deluge was in progress, such splashing and dashing of water as you saw on every side ; and the vigor with which they used brush-handle and mop was refreshing, but incon- gg A SUMMER IN EUROPE. venient — down on their knees scrubbing the flag- stones, or else using a sort of pop-gun in lieu of a hose: it was indeed "water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink." Every one, from old women to babies, wears a cap, frilled and goffered in a style worthy of imitation. The women of North Holland have on each side of the head what resembles a spiral bedspring, miniature of course, which causes a ferocious ap- pearance without adding to their beauty. The Dutch baby is the epitome of everything chubby, stolid, and sleek. Their name is legion, and surely never baby presented such a bizarre appearance. Faces so round and fat that you can scarcely see they have eyes, little bald heads cov- ered with white cotton caps, ears ornamented with rings, dress of calico, gay and stiffly starched, shoes red or yellow, and mantle the hues of the rainbow, — imagine all this, and you have the baby of the period. We visited the market-place, and saw the great baskets of delicious strawberries, the finest cher- ries in the world, great, firm heads of broccoli, crisp lettuce, peas, beans, carrots, herbs in their variety and abundance. Everything which would A WEEK IN HOLLAND. So suggest thrift and productiveness was there dis- played. Rotterdam was the birthplace of Erasmus. We remembered the fact, gave a sigh to his memory, looked at the monument, read the inscription, and quickly turned to the living panorama so new and strange which was moving before our eyes. In Amsterdam, as in a great part of Holland, a large proportion of the population are Jews. Con- sequently Saturday is a day of rest, and Sunday a holiday. Business of all kinds is in full operation. Music is common in the street, yet there is but little disorder or confusion. The people are civil and orderly. An intoxicated man is rarely or never seen. Everything is new and strange. There are naturally inconveniences in traveling in foreign lands, but they are in a measure over- balanced by the fact that you have the advantage of a free and full expression of opinion, confident that your remarks, although overheard, are not understood by any but the one to whom they are addressed. Many of the people can speak a little English, which they never fail to use, and in every case we have less difficulty with their Dutch- English than they have with the pure tongue as Q A SUMMER IN EUROPE. spoken by us. Around the hotels you find num- bers of interpreters. We attended service on Sunday in the Nieuwe Kerk ; but do not ask us for text or sermon. It might as well have been Greek to us. But we attuned our hearts reverently, and for once wor- shiped by faith alone. The singing was a sort of chant. They took up three collections in direct succession, to which almost all contributed, and we were locked in the pew. The evening was spent in a very different but agreeable manner. The park is situated on the outskirts of the town, and there we and a few thousand others repaired to a concert. My friends know me too well to suppose I am going to advocate beer-drinking, but I must say a more agreeable fete I never attended. The grounds are highly ornamental, myriads of gas-lights sparkle among the trees, fountains play in the distance, the music is of the finest character, and young men and maidens, fathers and their families, friends and acquaintances, meet and chat, smoke and take a glass of beer, tea, and coffee, in the most harmless and thoroughly social manner. Every one seemed happy. There was not a loud word or the least confusion in this large gather- A WEEK IN HOLLAND. q X ing. It was a social entertainment, with nothing to mar or disgust. We were surprised and de- lighted to see some familiar faces among this vast gathering, and greeted with warmth our friend Mason Hirsh, of Philadelphia, who with his family was sojourning in Holland. Twenty-seven years ago, when a mere lad, Mr. Hirsh left Germany and came to our country. Fortune smiled upon him, and he is now one of our most substantial mer- chants. He had returned with his wife and a por- tion of his family to see his aged father, relatives, and friends. At ten o'clock the music ceased, and the people dispersed, happier for the innocent en- joyment in which they had participated. The character of much of the country in Hol- land is but little understood by us. It was origin- ally Water, but is now so filled in and interspersed with ditches and canals, which are kept in naviga- ble order by means of thousands of windmills which line the banks, that a soil valuable and pro- ductive is obtained. It is probably the lowest country in the world, the greater part lying many feet below the sea-level. The safety of the king- dom therefore depends upon the dikes or embank- ments by which the encroachment of the sea is 02 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. prevented. The first care of the constructor of dikes is to lay a secure and massive foundation, as a preliminary to which the ground is stamped or compressed in order to increase its solidity. The dikes themselves are composed of earth, sand, and mud, which when thoroughly consolidated are entirely impervious to water. The surface is then covered with twigs of willow interwoven with elaborate care, the interstices of which are filled with clay, so as to bind the whole into a solid mass. The willows, which are extensively culti- vated for the purpose, are renewed every three years. Many of the dikes are planted with trees, the roots of which contribute materially to the consolidation of the structure. Others are pro- vided with bulwarks of masonry or protected with stakes against the violence of the waves, while the surface is covered with turf. In order to prevent the sands of the downs from covering the soil, they annually sow with seed grass, the roots of which spread and become entwined and form a substantial soil. We saw the process of reclaim- ing, and would judge it required much time and great labor. Much of the land thus obtained is devoted to ^razina- and vast numbers of fine cattle A WEEK LK HOLLA XD. 93 are seen on every side. The hay is pitched and dried in the old-time style, but gathered and stored by means of boats. The haymakers, with their full red trousers, blue shirts, and broad straw hats, add considerably to the effectiveness of a scene which is to be found in no other country in the world. We devoted one day to an excursion to the northern part of Holland. We took a steamboat on the Amstel, and, passing into the canal, stopped at Broek, said to be the cleanest town known. I am personally acquainted with some people not a thousand miles from my home who scrub kindling- wood before using, and wash shoe-strings before wearing them, and I was anxious to see if there was any custom in this famous village to exceed the two which I have mentioned. These were the only extreme points I was able to discover : the matrons of Broek require those who enter the house to leave their shoes at the door, and they scrub the bristly hides of the pigs ! The former statement I can vouch for, as I saw dozens of shoes meekly waiting outside for the owners' ap- pearance, but the latter is hearsay. The houses are built of wood and most gor- geously painted. The variegated tiles of the roofs 9 g^ A SUMMER IN EUROPE. glitter in the sunshine and impart a cheerful ap- pearance to the place. The gable end of the house is turned towards the street and contains the principal entrance, which is reached by a flight of three steps, which are movable and only used on occasions of festivals and funerals. From Broek we walked to Monnikendam, a distance of over two miles, and then drove to Zaandam, which is chiefly remarkable for having four hundred windmills in its immediate vicinity, and being the town where Czar Peter learned the humble trade of ship-building. We went to his house, which is a rude wooden structure in a tot- tering condition, but now encased in another house built by Anna, late Queen of Holland. We saw the rude bed on which he slept, sat in the straight- backed uncomfortable chairs, read the inscriptions left by numerous monarchs, then embarked for return to Amsterdam. The hotel at which we are stopping has a pecu- liar name and history. It is the house where, in 1542, Jacob Van Liesveldt published the first Protr estant Bible, a copy of which is now in possession of the present proprietor, Mr. Hardenburg. In 1620, D. D. Cottermolen, a Scotchman, purchased A WEEK IN HOLLAND. g$ the house and altered it into a hotel, calling it the " Bible House." But, fearful lest it might be mis- taken for a temperance hotel, he placed above the door a Bible open at Paul's First Epistle to Tim- othy, fifth chapter, 23d verse, with the text which still serves for anti-temperance sermons, printed in full : " Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake and for thine often infirmities." And to this day that unique sign remains to be read and commented upon by the stranger. A better and more home-like spot it has never been my good fortune to sojourn in, — clean in every part, the food wholesome and well cooked, and all connected with the establishment attentive and kind. Let me subjoin a bill of fare : Soup. Patties. Roast Beef, Potatoes, Peas. Stewed Chicken and Olives. Sausage, Gravy, and Potatoes. Veal, Stewed Cherries. Pudding with Fruit and Sauce. Salad, and Fish. Strawberries. Maccaroons and Sponge Cake. Cheese and English Walnuts. Lighted Candles and Cigars. 9 6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. Now, you will please remember that the articles (except the candles and cigars) are eaten in the order in which I have named them, on different plates each time, and with an entire change of knives, forks, and spoons, and you can judge of the length and solemnity of the process. VIII. BELGIUM GERMANY SWITZERLAND. Woman's " Rights" — Traveling in Europe contrasted with Trav- eling in America — A Glance at Antwerp, Brussels, Cologne, the Rhine, Frankfurt, Homburg, Wiesbaden — The Mountains of Switzerland — A Furious Hail-storm. The ride through Belgium and Germany is so varied and interesting that we felt no weariness, although the distances are long: for Continental traveling. There is literally no spot unfruitful, no foot of ground encumbered by a fence, all covered with grain now ready for the sickle. The very ex- cellent regulation they have of compelling every man who cuts down one tree to plant two prevents their country from presenting the bare appearance which is becoming so painfully apparent in many sections of our own. In every field we see num- bers of women raking and loading hay. In fact, as we have before observed, her condition is one of servitude. There seems to be no labor too menial 9* 97 9 8 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. for the weaker sex. I have seen her yoked to a cart, dragging the plow, digging with spade and hoe, carrying great cans of milk, waving the sig- nal-flag at railway-stations, handling trunks, and at other employments of a " light" character. In Italy men fill the hods which the girls carry to the tops of the buildings. In Holland I saw matrons making stationary wash-tubs of the canal and minding two or three babies on the bank at the same time. No talk of " woman's rights" here, that nature has unfitted her to compete with man in his labors, or that she is neglecting home duties by her continued absence. Her sphere is hard, unremitting tpil, and too often an absence of the courtesies which naturally form part of a true man's treatment of a woman. You meet them returning from work, the woman carrying a load on her back or head, and the man smoking with hands in his blouse-pockets. I heard of one stout dame who gently drew the cart in which her liege lord reposed. It must rouse the indignation of every American to see hosts of stalwart fellows drilling or on parade while their mothers and sisters are toiling like beasts. I have frequently heard it said that a woman could travel with BEL Gl I'M— GERMANY— S W1TZERLAND. gg much more ease and meet with more civility in Europe than in our own country. This is not true. In the first place, they have not the conve- niences we have. Next, a fee to the railway offi- cials is required to insure civility. I doubt not that if persons of unlimited means would consign themselves to the tender mercies of hotel-keepers and waiters the way would be comparatively easy, but I have seen parties of ladies who never met with the slightest attention, who have been jostled away from ticket-offices, crowded out of cars, and rudely treated by those in authority. " Do Amer- ican ladies travel alone?" superciliously inquired . a titled lady, who considered herself entitled to the whole compartment of a railway-carriage into which a friend of mine entered. " When they wish to," was the caustic rejoinder. " It depends upon the character of those they meet whether it is agreeable for them to do so." This lack of courtesy is particularly noticeable in Germany. Let me give you a specimen of the behavior of the men as I have seen it many times during the past two weeks. By main force our gentleman generally reaches the car first. If he does not appropriate two seats, he monopolizes most of the 100 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. rack intended for baggage purposes. He then takes the seat next the door, and, notwithstanding a printed prohibition, smokes either pipe or cigar, which pleasant occupation he varies by spitting out of the window. At the station he thrusts his head out of the door and calls for beer. Should he meet a friend, they talk loudly and boister- ously, to the serious annoyance of every one else. Worst of all, when wearied he stretches himself out to sleep and snores. But language fails me. Imagination must complete the picture. At the table you see another phase of character, as with elbows outstretched he manages with the aid of his knife to destroy a great quantity of food in a very little time. Then ensues a most vigorous tooth-picking, followed by the call for cigars or pipe, and if you have been so unfortunate as to be late you have the pleasure of eating your meal in an atmosphere which can be likened to nothing but a smoke-house. I may be deemed severe, but really I have heard everything European so lauded that I feel like crying aloud when I find things so different from that represented. How many young men with us ignore our excellent colleges, dilate on the superior advantages of a BEL GIUM— GERMANY— S WITZERLAND. j 1 foreign education, and point to Heidelberg as the place where it is most likely to be obtained! We have been there and met many of the students of that famous University. Two were pointed out whose faces were disfigured by immense scars, the result of duels, which I was told are among the highest honors of the institution. Let us shift the scene, and I will narrate a little incident which came under my own observation. Two years ago, when traveling West, I met at Quincy, Illinois, a girl apparently about sixteen years old. She was alone, unable to walk a step, but endeavoring to make her way from Ohio to Kansas, where there is a hospital for the treatment of spinal complaints. She sat in a small rocking- chair, and at every change of cars it required two men to lift her. Now, remember, this child was not prepossessing, but deformed, dirty, and almost without money. Yet, I tell you, I journeyed with her many hundred miles, and never once by day or night did I see her wanting in kindness and attention, and those who served her did it for the sake of humanity, and without the hope of reward. I was surprised when the conductor of the train at Antwerp opened the door and lifted I0 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. my shawl-strap out, but that feeling merged into indignation when his outstretched hand told me he demanded a fee for this unusual piece of polite- ness. We find but few persons here who speak Eng- lish, and a scant knowledge of German or French avails but little amid this Babel of tongues. Let none flatter themselves that a few boarding-school phrases will make them masters of the situation. I have seen it tried repeatedly, and it always re- sulted in unmistakable failure. "My daughter speaks French," explains mamma, with evident pride in the dear child's accomplishment; but with the train thundering along the guard puts his head in, and then ensues a laughable scene of explanation, misunderstanding, and no satisfac- tion. You may set this down as a rule: wherever there is anything for sale to eat, drink, or wear, you will find an English translation, but for a proper route or time table, where it should be, that " he who runs may read," it will be in an incomprehensible language, which you may get translated as best you can. At Antwerp there is but little to attract, except the Cathedral, with its fine paintings by Rubens, BEL GIUM— GERMANY— S IVITZERLAXD. lo ^ and wonderful spire, so symmetrical and exquisite in its workmanship that Charles V. justly said it deserved to be kept in a case, and Napoleon com- pared its minutely carved work to delicate Mech- lin lace. During the morning the Cathedral is free to visitors, but at noon the famous pictures are un- veiled, when a fee of a franc is demanded. Can any one who has once looked ever forget the startling reality of the face of the Master? It is the fa'ce of a God, yet burdened by human sor- rows and suffering. Half hidden behind a pillar is the famous head painted on marble by Da Vinci. It is the face of a man, handsome and sad, but scarcely divine. At Brussels we saw the most delicate and costly lace, so fine and filmy that we could scarce be- lieve it the production of the coarse hands em- ployed in its manufacture. At Cologne, known everywhere for its associa- tion with sweet scents, we found another Cathedral, which is destined to be the grandest Gothic struc- ture in the world. Begun in the thirteenth cen- tury, it still engages hundreds of workmen and has cost millions of money for the statuary and 104 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. materials which it contains. I know I am laying myself open to censure by not sending home closely-written pages of raptures over these mon- uments of art, but, my friends, when I go through the country and see the people toiling like slaves, many of them scantily clad, with boards lashed to their feet instead of shoes, look into their homes destitute of every comfort, then see in the cities these costly, senseless pillars of granite, which must be paid for by taxes wrung from the scanty pittance of these poor souls, — then is my soul stirred within me, for I feel that a God of justice is better pleased by the simple prayer of his humble servants than by the empty offering of a magnifi- cent pile, every stone of which is cemented by the tears of his sorrowful creatures. We sailed up the Rhine on a glorious summer day. A shower the previous night had brightened and freshened each tree and shrub along these banks so often named in song and story. High above us towered the mountains. On their side and down by the river-bank were the clean, neat towns. Ehrenbreitstein looked proudly from its lofty summit, and a hundred legends of days gone by came fresh before us. The vineyards were a BEL GIUM— GERMANY— S WITZERLAND. 105 disappointment, not in their number, but appear- ance. You all know how they are described, — graceful and clinging in their luxuriance, forming an emerald covering for the hill-side. Dismiss that idea. The vines are short and straight, sup- ported by poles, to which they are tied by bands of straw, and present such an utterly unpoetical and lank appearance that for a long time I was undecided whether they were that very valuable but vulgar root known as the potato, or the whole- some vegetable commonly called pole-beans. The ruins of castles are so suspiciously numer- ous that we are inclined to credit a well-authenti- cated story to the effect that the enterprising and industrious German, finding that the present gen- eration have an increasing reverence for the relics of feudal times, spends the winter in erecting them, placing them in the most eligible and pic- turesque positions to attract the eye of the tourist, who gazes enraptured and bursts into applause. " Look, look, Marie," exclaimed one of these gushing creatures, " is it not grand and soul- satisfying? Let me quaff this delicious air. How can I take in all the beauties in these brief mo- ments? Let us look and never forget." I learned io 6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. upon inquiry that this romantic young woman had just recovered from an attack of brain-fever, and ventured the prediction that she would have another if she did not moderate her raptures. Frankfort-on-the-Main is one of the finest cities we have seen. It is the home of men of immense fortunes, who have done much to beautify and improve it. The Palm-Garden is one of the finest in Europe, and attracts many visitors. We drove through the old Jew quarters, now nearly a heap of ruins, saw the humble house which was the birthplace of the elder Rothschild, visited Lu- ther's home, still adorned with his portrait, and, stopped at the unpretending dwelling where Goethe lived and wrote. The little window with its iron casement is still there, before which he sat and gazed across the way at Margaret who was spinning. I dare say that sensible and prosaic female wished the fellow would cease staring at her, not dreaming that time would so mellow and soften the picture and his passion render her name immortal. In the Museum we saw Danneker's statue of Ariadne, and a more perfect piece of sculpture never came from the chisel. Every limb is rounded in perfect symmetry, the features BEL GIUM— GERMANY— SWITZERLAND. i Q y life-like and beautiful. In the face is shadowed forth the story of a woman scorned yet triumph- ant. We recall and believe the story of an artist, who, day by day, grew so enamored with the creation of his brain, fashioned by his chisel, that his soul went out in adoration to a thing of stone. This statue and a picture by K. du Jardin in the Museum at Amsterdam have impressed me more than any of the hundreds of painted faces and landscapes at which I have gazed. In company with friends we visited Homburg, once celebrated as a great gambling resort, now happily purified of that stain. The halls, up- holstered, frescoed, and gilded, lighted by a thou- sand jets of gas, are extremely gorgeous. We saw where fortunes had been won, then swept away in a single night; heard stories of desperate men and women, having staked their all and lost, who had cursed their madness and folly, then rushed out to dishonor and death. Happily for the people, the Prussian government, upon the annexation of the province, prohibited this terrible curse, and con- verted these buildings into reading and concert saloons. We spent the " glorious Fourth" at Wiesbaden, 108 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. which, like Homburg, was once the resort of gam- blers, but is now less frequented, though a most charming place. Here was displayed the Ameri- can flag. The Sabbath is not a continental insti- tution, so we loitered amid shops, parks, music, and a multiplicity of people, thinking often of the noise, fun, and smoke in our home on the nation's holiday. The leader of the excellent orchestra at the Park had arranged a programme for an " Amerikanisches National -Fest- Concert," with fireworks in honor of the occasion. Our wandering steps were next turned towards Switzerland. And now let me give full vent to genuine enthusiasm, for a country more grand and romantic, and a people more simple in tastes and habits, the world never saw. Now I under- stand how this race, imbibing the free mountain air, threw off the yoke of the oppressor, and, fleeing to the Alpine fastnesses, there defied his power. From Zurich, calm and peaceful, we went to Lucerne, and there climbed the Rigi to spend the night six thousand feet above the level of the sea. Slowly we ascended the mountain-side, each mo- ment the car bringing us nearer the clouds. Men, BEL GIUM— GERMANY— S WITZERLAND. 109 beasts, and houses gradually became as specks, eleven lakes lay at our feet, and the panorama of a world seemed unfolding before us. Titlis, with his snowy head, untouched by the foot of man, was serene and awful ; Pilatus, many-peaked and hoary, towered above his fellows, and southward we could see the wonderful pass of St. Gotthard, which yearly attracts its crowd of pilgrims. There was something terribly grand and oppressive in the sight of these sentinels as they one by one were revealed to us, and I think I shall never look heavenward again without fancying they are frowning solemnly upon me. We picked the Alpenrose which needs no fostering care to cause it to bud and bloom amid the snows of its lofty home, and saw the delicate blossoms high above our reach with which God has beautified these waste places of creation. Gradually the sun sank in his bed of crimson and gold, but, true to the promise, the next morning, while the dwellers be- low were dreaming, the eastern horizon was insen- sibly changed to a band of light, then each lofty snow-clad peak was tinged with a roseate blush, the shadows melted away, and forests, lakes, hills, and towns revealed themselves, until the sun sud- 10* H(5 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. denly burst from behind the mountains in all his majesty, never more truly the god of day than when he floods the whole of this superb landscape with light and warmth. No wonder that the dis- ciples of Zoroaster were ready with one accord to do reverence to the "great light which rules the day" and worship it as a power supreme. The morning brought us down to the realities of earth, and the day was given to a " post-chaise and four" through the famous Briinig Pass. The road, although in many places precipitous, is as hard as though made of concrete ; and the view it affords of Alpine scenery is one never to be for- gotten. High on the mountain-side are perched the houses of those who till these lofty tracts ; the cows are sure-footed as chamois, and the tinkle of their bells adds music to the scene. Do not im- agine that these Swiss cottages are modeled and carved like the well-known chalets with which gentlemen of fortune adorn their lawns. These are very different affairs. They are shared alike by man and beast, the cow frequently having the best accommodation. The roofs are covered with large stones, to keep them from blowing off. There is but one window, and neither plastering nor floor. BEL GIUM— GERMANY—SWITZERLAND. l j x Neither are those pretty Swiss maidens who add so much to the attractiveness of Centennial Ba- zaars to be found in this section. Here the gowns are of linsey, short and very stiff, the bodice of calico, and the sleeves of check, while an old silk red handkerchief or coarse straw hat serves to cover the head. The heat was oppressive when we started on our ride, and towards noon a slight haze hovered around Pilatus. Soon the clouds thickened and the distant roll of thunder was heard. The light- ning, fierce and jagged, lit up the mountain-peaks, and we witnessed a scene of unparalleled grandeur and fury. An awful blackness seemed to settle like a pall over the earth ; the mountains became giants in size and in strength, threatening to over- whelm us. Then came great drops of rain splash- ing down, followed by a torrent of hail. Many of the hailstones were the size of eggs, and came down with such fury that they were dashed to pieces. Others were round as balls, while some were sharp, triangular pieces of ice which stung and cut the flesh. The horses were so terrified that we were forced to take refuge at an inn dur- ing the half-hour the storm lasted. And then II2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. what a change had come over the scene ! The streams were swollen and rushing with redoubled fury; miniature cascades sprang from the moun- tain-sides, and with their yellow foam leaped madly and wildly above our heads ; great piles of hailstones had been swept together, and mon- strous trees bowed their heads ; but far on we could see, all sunshine and calm, the valleys which the tempest had not yet reached, and through the clouds which still rested against the mountain- side we drove with thankful hearts to our destined haven. IX. PARIS. Life in the City— The Palais Royal— Versailles— Art Attractions — The Champ de Mars — Dress and Shopping — Pere la Chaise — The Morgue — Louis Napoleon's Work, etc. Paris is unquestionably the city of the world, and first to attract, then amuse, is the motto of her people. To do this they gather together every device of beauty, grace, and gay, bewildering bril- liancy, and lo ! thousands flock thereunto. Every taste can here be gratified. Are you fond of his- tory? France has a past and a present to be care- fully studied and its lessons reflected upon. Do you love art? Her galleries contain the treasures of every clime and age. Have you a taste for merchandise ? Her looms and artisans produce fabrics of unrivaled fineness and coloring. Are you musical ? The grandest opera-house in the world opens its doors and bids you enter. Or are your tastes less expensive? The Champs "3 II4 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. Elysees will furnish you with a cafe chantant or dansaiit, where, for a couple of francs, your ear will be charmed, your eye delighted, and the inner man refreshed. By nature the French are gay, mercurial, and vivacious. When they cease to bow and compliment they cease to breathe. They may sneer, but they veil it with a smile; they may deceive, but they do it with a courtly grace. In the very heart of the city, where land is so valu- able that the population of a block will number thousands, you come upon gardens and parks where rest and companionship are provided for, and upon the seats find the artisan in his blue blouse, the humble flower-maker whose stained fingers tell the story of her employment, and the industrious sempstress, chatting as merrily as though she had not a care in the world. The steady business man or woman of our country can form no idea of the life of the majority of the people here. They have no word to express what we call the dearest spot; home is a thing un- known ; chez vous and chez nous is their abiding- place. They lodge, breakfast, and dine most likely each time at a different spot, and after busi- ness hours sit outside the cafe-door and smoke, PARIS. j ! 5 sip wine, read the papers, and chat with their friends. This is Parisian life. It is the perfect freedom of this wandering out-door existence which renders it so charming to foreigners. You may dress, eat, drink, and go where you like, without exciting comment. You have no neigh- bors, consequently on dit is a thing unknown. I heard a story of a man who sojourned here for some months in order to be treated for an affec- tion of the brain. The operation necessitated a discoloration of the forehead, and, although he was daily in the streets, his strange appearance excited not even an inquiring glance ; but once landed in New York he had not crossed the ferry ere some one kindly inquired what made his head " such a queer color." In the older portions of the city many of the streets are not more than eight feet wide, and the houses, seven stories high, literally swarm with human beings. A walk through the ou vrier quar- ter is a most interesting sight. Every trade is in full operation under your eye, for the workman brings bench and tools close to the window and door, that he may catch each morsel of light and air. You see shops where dinners already cooked IT 6 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. can be bought by the plateful, dark cellars where charcoal and wood are sold by the bucketful, rooms where the finest artificial flowers are produced and the most exquisite needlework wrought. Millin- ery, dressmaking, wood-carving, ironing, shoe- making, baking, printing, and dollmaking, — in a word, almost every branch of industry known to the world seems to be in full operation in Paris. But the law regulates that these narrow streets shall soon become a thing of the past. Each new building is forced to stand back a certain number of feet, and the thoroughfares are rapidly becom- ing wide, well paved, and clean. In the time of Louis Philippe, when revolutions were imminent, it was but the work of a few moments for the easily-aroused mechanic to leave his bench and assist in building the barricade across the narrow way. Louis Napoleon learned a lesson from the fact, and hence the law, which is strictly enforced. To-day the ruins and blackened walls of palaces, works of art, and columns tell the sad story of the insane fury of the Communist. The history of France seems to be marked by kings and revolutions, and if we judge by the past she slumbers each hour on the verge of a political PARIS. j j j volcano. The idler of to-day may to-morrow man the barricade, and the industrious workman, who is repairing the Louvre, to-morrow assist at its destruction. I heard of a Frenchman who, possessed with an idea of the unstability of the government, went to New York and took lodging at a Broadway hotel. In the night there was an alarm of fire, and instantly the whole city seemed alive with howling, hurrying men. " Mon Dieu !" exclaimed the excited man, as he threw open his window, " the revolution has commenced." Our present quarters are adjoining the Palais Royal, a place most attractive to strangers. This superb palace was built in 1620 by Richelieu, who gave it to Louis XIII. Since that time it has played an important part in history, having been devastated by the mob, afterwards rebuilt, then set fire to by the Communists in 1871, until now only the part which escaped destruction is occupied. The court is inclosed by a Doric colonnade, which forms a hall paved with marble and roofed with glass, and where once royalty strolled is now ranged the most tempting and bewildering array of shops the eye ever looked upon. Diamonds, whose brilliancy is caught up, reflected, and re- H3 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. peated by plate glass, sparkle in their chaste and unique settings; great strings of pearls and opals festoon the sides ; curiously-carved coral tempts in its abundance; and bronzes, vases, glass, bijou- terie, and everything which can please the heart, is there in its most attractive form. Internally these shops are equally beautiful. The sides are formed of mirrors, the floors are tiled and spread with Turkish rugs, while the dark woodwork forms a striking contrast to the highly-polished show-cases. This is the secret of the attractive- ness of Paris. You may loiter and linger from morn until night, and each hour find something new and pleasing. If there is anything unsightly, it is hidden. In the centre of this brilliant array is a garden with fountains and flowers, and each day from five to six the band plays to the crowds of people who flock thither. Yesterday an air they played was familiar, and instantly a hundred voices joined in the chorus and sang as only Frenchmen can. It rains frequently, but nothing seems to interfere with out-door life. They seek refuge during the hardest of the shower, but a gleam of sunshine, and the streets are again dry, and the busy, bustling throng, all in commotion, PARIS. II9 seem never to seek their homes until the small hours of the morning-. In every city we find more humane" and better regulated public conveyances than we have at home. Omnibuses here are built to hold so many persons, and once full the word " cOmplet" is dis- played, and no more are allowed to enter. And this leads me to another story of a young Ameri- can, who boasted of his proficiency in French, and who determined to see the city from the top of an omnibus. To do this successfully he fol- lowed every route excepting that which led to " Complet," and there, he says, he never could reach. As in England, we are sharing, or rather wit- nessing, the hospitalities extended to his sable majesty the Sultan of Zanzibar. On Sunday, at Versailles, the great fountains de Neptune and du Dragon played for his gratification, and we, of the people, shared in the pleasure. Of all the grand and beautiful places we have visited, the palace there is the most superb in its adornments and magnificent in proportions. Designed and built so regardless of cost that it impoverished a nation and caused a revolution, to-day it presents an in- 20 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. terior not marred by time, and grounds so culti- vated and blooming that they are a never-failing pleasure and resort for the people. For sixty miles in circumference the country was purchased, and hills leveled or elevated, valleys excavated or filled up, to make this earthly Paradise. The studios of the world were ransacked for art- treasures to decorate the walls, and the most emi- nent talent of the time employed on busts and statues of those who asked no prouder epitaph than " killed in battling for France." Here for the first time we found recognition of American states- men and generals. In the Attique du Midi we saw portraits of Clay, Webster, and others, and upon the walls of the Galerie des Batailles a fine his- torical picture of Yorktown, with Washington and Rochambeau as principal figures. The Champ de Mars, historically one of the most interesting spots in France, is aside from that noteworthy as the place where the great exposi- tion of 1867 was held. The field, one thousand yards long by seven hundred yards wide, was in the short space of fifteen months the scene of much labor and success. A building gigantic in proportions was erected, huge trees transplanted, PARIS. 121 gardens arranged and in full bloom, the industries of nations gathered together, and the world sum- moned to witness the sight. The exhibition over, every vestige of this grand spectacle was removed, and to-day, without a tree or shrub for shelter, the immense space totally uncultivated, it serves as a drilling-ground for the pupils of L'Ecole Militaire. During the fierce and bitter struggles of the Com- mune it was used as a burying-ground, in which victims were hastily deposited in ditches, covered with quicklime and earth, and left unknown and uncared for. In costumes the Frenchwomen do not imitate the gorgeous fabrics and fashion-plates they send us as the latest styles. They are neat, plain, and tasty, wearing good gloves, genteel bonnets, and sensible broad-soled shoes. They generally wear black or dark colors for street-dresses. The sim- ple yet stylish arrangement of a Frenchwoman's collar and neck-tie is an art which will never reach our side of the Atlantic, for there is an air and grace about it perfectly inimitable. Let me tell my young friends, and some of my old ones at the same time, that ladies here do not wear their clothes pinned or fastened around them in the I2 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. outrageous style now in vogue with us. If a Parisian correspondent is not authority on this subject, where will you look for reliable informa- tion ? From dress to shopping the transition is easy, and that occupation so congenial to the female taste is here a fine but bewildering art. Each dealer seems to have been notified of your coming, and studied what your needs would be, so that you have but to select. They certainly have the greatest aggregation of goods, chosen with taste, judgment, and care, and arranged to induce you to admire, then buy. Every article which could please the heart of womankind and open the mas- culine purse-strings appears to shoot into notice as you pass along the gay Boulevards ; every little household convenience which you just need is already labeled, awaiting you. Velvets, silks, laces, ribbons, handkerchiefs, bonnets, caps, dresses, mantles, pearls, diamonds and jewelry, everything dazzling and beautiful, go to form this radiant maze. Never before was I so thankful for being " strong-minded," for thus and thus alone, aided by a sense of poverty, can you turn aside from these attractions. PARIS. I2 3 From life to death we must all go, and yester- day was devoted to a visit to Pere La Chaise, a cemetery known and famed throughout the land. The street leading thereto is a most lugubrious thoroughfare, being entirely devoted to shops containing mortuary designs, many of which, unique in character, are neither expensive, ex- pressive, nor attractive. The figures are generally made of plaster of Paris, and the innumerable wreaths, crosses, chains, and designs, of black and white beads. Situated on a hill commanding a view of the city, this vast assemblage of the dead is an object of interest and attracts crowds of vis- itors. Here you realize the number of those of whom it is truly said they have "gone over to the majority." Here is the resting-place of men of letters, of those who won fame upon the battle- field, and of princes and titled ones. A grassy spot inclosed by a railing, yet containing neither monument nor name, shows the visitor where lies the body of Marshal Ney, o'er whom Napoleon wept, and was once wont to declare the "bravest of the brave." La Fontaine, a name dear to every lover of fables, his tomb surmounted by a fox, sleeps side by side with Moliere. Cherubini and 124 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. Bellini, known and worshiped in the world of music, lie on a sunny slope, and upon the hill- side we pause and reverently bow, for the word Talma brings back the story of the greatest tra- gedian of the world. Higher up are the beautiful monuments to Sidney Smith and Volney, and in the quarter devoted to Jews the tomb of Rachel. Sueur, the author of Paul and Virginia, Gay-Lus- sac, Massena, and a host of names bright and shining in their record, are here. We retraced our steps and made a pious pilgrimage to the tomb of the most noted lovers of antiquity, Abelard and Helo'ise. In youth cruel fate separated them, in middle life they were fettered by religious vows, but in death they are not divided. The inclosure is filled with scaffolding, for the monument is undergoing repairs, so that our view was not quite satisfactory. Here is the shrine at which the maidens of Paris worship, and they come hither at all seasons, bearing wreaths and em- blems of white flowers, to show their sympathy for this unhappy pair. Age has doubtless mel- lowed the story of their sufferings into its present romantic form, and thrown around it the halo and charm which in all time is associated with un- PARIS. 12$ happy love. In some sections of the cemetery the decorations almost provoke a smile by their absurdity. Small figures, candles, half-worn toys, immortelles, tablets, pathetic inscriptions, and thousands of bouquets, wreaths, crosses, and long strings of black and white beads, are supposed to express and be emblematic of the grief and affec- tion of the survivor. I copied from one tomb- stone the following, which is thoroughly original and tells the whole story : " John P. Simon, Regretted by his widow, Regretted by his mother, Regretted by his brothers, Regretted by his sister-in-law, and by all his family and friends." Strolling through what was the original Paris, we came to a low building on the banks of the Seine, which curiosity, mingled with a strange fear, impelled us to enter. The rear entrance to the Morgue admits none but ghastly, ghostly occupants. Through the front door the train of humanity, who pass in with frightened, half- expectant glances, seems never to cease. This day no "one more unfortunate" had "gone to her 126 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. death," and the narrow iron beds were empty. The clothes, the shoes, and any little trinkets hang around the walls to assist and quicken the memo- ries of those who with white, anxious faces rush in, glance through the glass, and go away sorrow- ful. Ah, these inner walls could tell many stories of griefs hidden, and brain crazed, ere the quick- flowing Seine swallowed its burden ; but it could tell other and sadder tales of living hearts which broke outside the bars, yet " brokenly lived on." Suicides are, alas ! too common among the people of Paris. Their unfortunate matrimonial relations and the loose state of morality sanctioned by law naturally lead to much unhappiness. Wives and husbands not only are content, but happier, apart; children are brought up ignorant of pa- rental love and home ties; a domestic revolution ensues, suicide follows, and the whole matter is forgotten. Everything attractive naturally gravitates to- wards Paris, and to the French it is the world. Frivolous and volatile, here they eat, drink, and are merry, and to-morrow, if trouble comes, they die. Their newspapers contain but little news out- PARIS. Y 2 j side of their own country, and the children are educated with regard to France, her history and achievements, but in woeful ignorance of the world beyond. Louis Napoleon thoroughly understood the na- ture of the people. They must be amused, and their national pride encouraged, so he went to work to beautify and build up Paris in a style of magnificence which no other city can show. It is truly said he created the Bois de Boulogne, with its lovely, winding, shady walks, smooth, exten- sive drives, lakes, grottoes, and cascades ; and while yesterday the populace praised and wor- shiped the genius which devised that they might have employment in the execution and gratifica- tion therefrom, to-day the broken, battered statues, half-burnt palaces, trees with branches shot away, tell the story of the Commune, and every avenue or street, every building or cafe, which bore a name suggestive of royalty, has been changed ; for when the last cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" died away, he was not only to be dead but forgotten. X. PARIS. The Catacombs — Industrial Exhibition — Theatre-Accommoda- tions. Having inspected almost everything above ground usually attractive to the visitor, at the suggestion of a friend we obtained permission from the Prefect of the Seine to carry our obser- vations beneath the surface, — to the receptacles for the bones of the dead of Paris, — where lie in state, as it were, all that is left of probably not less than three millions of human beings. We had written to his honor the Prefect more than a week be- fore receiving our ticket admitting seven persons. Arriving at the entrance, the old Barriere d'Enfer (gate of hell), we found to our surprise not less than five hundred people, each one, like ourselves, with candle in hand, eagerly waiting to descend into this vast charnel-house. It was fully an hour before the last of the ghostly procession arrived at 128 PARIS. 129 the bottom of the winding stone steps, hundreds of feet beneath the city's surface. Then began a march of half a mile through a damp, narrow passage, substantially walled, with now and then a little more water mixed with the sandy foot-path than was agreeable, at the termination of which we met the first compact layer of bones. These were piled as closely together as sardines in a box, the various parts of the human frame being made to fit thus by placing all similar bones together. The skulls are in the centre of the arrangement, and present a wonderfully neat finish. The streets in which they are piled are about four feet wide and ten feet high " in the clear," as the carpenters say. We followed one another, single file, in and out the different avenues, with "dry bones" to the right and left of us in endless and nameless variety. The streets correspond exactly with the principal streets on the surface, and have the same names. Occasionally we saw a monument erected to the memory of some particular person, and' again a gallery devoted to the contents of a par- ticular cemetery, with suitable inscriptions. In many places persons have carved their names and time of visit. A dark line on the ceiling is in- 130 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. tended to prevent people wandering from the street leading out, but in addition to this large chains are fastened across the avenues not open to the public. For many years, owing to the dangerous condition of the ceilings, visitors were refused admittance to any part. The walk con- sumes about an hour, and is probably performed but once by even the most inveterate sight-seer. At least I heard no one say they cared to' repeat the experience, — not even the young man walking in front of me, who succeeded in extracting; a tooth as a memento. These catacombs were first devoted to their present purpose in 1784, when a decree was is- sued ordering the clearing of the Cemetery of the Innocents, together with other old burial-places. They had existed from a remote period as quar- ries, from which building -stone was obtained. The Luxembourg, the Pantheon, and other noted buildings, have their foundations above them. The ceremony of consecrating them occurred April 7, 1786, on the evening of which the work of remov- ing the dead began. This work was all performed at night, the bones, which were conveyed in fu- neral cars, being followed by priests chanting the PARIS. 31 service. The remains were at first shot down a shaft, in confusion, each cemetery being kept separate. It was not until 18 10 that the present regular system of arranging them was com- menced. Among the present attractions in Paris is the exhibition of manufactured articles at the Palais de l'lndustrie. The building is admirably adapted for the purpose, resembling somewhat the old London Crystal Palace, after which it was erected by a company in 1852-55. It is now owned by the government. The display is much larger and more varied than the similar exhibition in 1874 in Philadelphia by the Franklin Institute. For utility and workmanship, however, in such articles as vehicles, household furniture, machinery, and the larger and more valuable manufactures, a similar display in America would be anything but creditable to our modern genius. Even the Ameri- can sewing-machines, manufactured in France, are clumsy and lacking that finish we see in our own country. In machinery the French appear to ac- complish very little. The printing-presses on ex- hibition are very complicated, and, whilst capable no doubt of good work, would not recommend 132 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. themselves to practical printers, who find the simplest piece of machinery usually the best. A display of electrical button call-bells, now greatly used in European hotels, attracted my attention. They are cheap, easily applied, and will no doubt come into general use. At the International Exhibition of Geographical Science, which has also been in progress for some time, there is a fine display of American Coast- Survey Maps. The latter exhibition attracts the attention of scientists generally, and is visited by thousands. A resident of Paris, speaking to me upon the subject, remarked that there was no branch of science concerning which the average Frenchman knew less than that of geography. The map of France is hung up on the wall, and beyond that little is generally known. The schools teach nothing else in the way of geography, and not much of that. My friend told me that indeed it was not until the Prussians gave the French army officers a few well-known practical lessons that even some of the oldest of them became familiar with the locality of towns in their own country. It is said that a certain publisher got hold of a map of France made by the Germans PARIS. ,33 during the war, and, adding a few towns omitted as not important, has issued it as the latest and most accurate. Whether or not it was among the collection on exhibition I did not ascertain. For beautiful specimens of architecture Paris is unexcelled ; yet nowhere will you find so poor accommodations for an audience, whether it be in the church or in the theatre. The old, unpainted, rush-bottom c/iairs, everywhere to be seen in Notre Dame, are continually being pushed and made to disturb the religious exercises. Every cathedral in Europe has the same old article of seating furniture. But, unlike the theatres, the churches have ample ventilation. The boxes in the Grand Opera-House, unquestionably not only the most costly but the finest building of the kind in exist- ence, are so constructed that it is almost impossi- ble for about one-third of the audience to see the stage when seated. The heat from the gas-lights is so great that persons in the upper boxes are compelled frequently to leave the building; whilst others, disgusted with having paid two dollars for a seat from which the stage is not visible, inspect the magnificent interior, its foyer of rarest marble, etc., and go away satisfied or dissatisfied at having 12* j 24 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. at least seen the edifice. The ill-ventilated, pent- up theatres are reached through very small en- trances, and the audience, to be able.to endure the entire performance, are generally given from fifteen minutes to half an hour intermission between acts to recuperate as best they can. But the plays, as in London, are better put upon the stage than they are in America. The French here again, however, demonstrate their disposition for ex- tremes, for where thousands of them are enjoying themselves in this way tens of thousands are found at the garden concert. XL PARIS. Postal System — Ravages of the Commune — The Louvre— Column Venddme — Paris Streets. In Paris there are six postal deliveries each day. The system appears to be very complete. The carriers are sent out in omnibuses to their respective districts, and, after going their rounds, at stated hours again take the 'bus for the general "office. In this way only could the city be thus well accommodated. The government is forced, however, to keep a strict surveillance over corre- spondence, and may inspect anything passing through the hands of officials. The weather this summer has been extremely pleasant, the thermometer seldom marking higher than seventy-five degrees. To-day it indicates sixty-eight, with the second day of- light, continu- ous rain. The atmospheric condition has rendered a visit less irksome to the traveler, and caused 135 136 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. really an unlooked-for number of strangers on the streets. The first half of July was a constant suc- cession of showers in France. This did not prom- ise well for the wheat crop, and Americans were congratulating themselves that their exporters this year would be liberal purchasers. The next two weeks, however, were more favorable. The warm- est weather I experienced was in Switzerland, where, unless you ascend the mountains, the "heated term" exists to perfection. The streets and gardens of Paris, at the same time, are com- paratively cool, — the streets, most of them, ren- dered so by their narrow, devious course, and tall houses; the gardens by the grand and beautiful mingling of tree and fountain. We have been for- tunate in our selection of time to view the city and its environs, and this we have done to an extent quite forbidding anything like a faithful descrip- tion. To be appreciated Paris must be visited, for no pen-picture, however carefully drawn, can do justice to the subject. I have walked over the principal portions of the city, and seen what Paris was before the time of Napoleon III. The very narrow streets, and side- walks accommodating but two persons abreast, PARIS. j 07 contin.ually crowded with man and beast, are any- thing but agreeable to the American stranger. The Frenchman will point to those latterly made wider, and tell you that Napoleon caused the alteration to prevent the turbulent populace erecting barri- cades ; but "the truth is, the Emperor, wiser than his predecessors (and I fear his successors too), had in view more particularly the modernizing the city, and putting into practice his excellent judgment we see now as a result the chief attrac- tions of Paris. The city suffered much in 1870 and 1 87 1, and it will be many years before the evidences of the atrocious deeds of the Commune are obliterated ; but the advance France has made in repairing some of the more elaborate and ex- pensive buildings, the progress towards regaining' her former prestige, her ascendency in art and lit- erature, are truly surprising. The palace of the Louvre retains its wonderful store of curiosities in the shape of rare paintings, exquisite sculpture, and antiquated specimens of various articles from all parts of the world. The building was commenced in 1528, but in 1802 it was fast falling into ruin. Napoleon I., however, resumed work upon and finished the building, which was subsequently fur- 138 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. ther extended by Napoleon III. The Commune of course could not allow so fine an opportunity for Vandalism to pass, and accordingly set fire to and entirely destroyed that portion of the new Louvre or Tuileries facing the garden. The wings are being repaired, and eventually the centre building, from the windows of which Louis Philippe and Napoleon III. so often admiringly gazed, will also be restored, the partially destroyed walls being sufficiently well preserved for the new building. The Column Vendome, erected by Napoleon I., one hundred and thirty-five feet high, also destroyed by the Commune, has been almost restored. It will be remembered that this splendid monument was demolished by the Communists sawing away a portion of the base, and then with ropes attached to the top pulling it over. The entire column was covered with slightly raised figures representing important events in the history of France. These were broken in being dashed to the ground, but were subsequently recovered from the populace, who had gathered them as mementos, and are now in the column. The splendid statuary in the Place de la Concorde, decidedly the most attractr ive square (if square I may be allowed to call it) PARIS. I39 in Paris, also shows the execution of the bullets in the last unfortunate war. The figures are repaired in many parts, a finger, portion of an arm, or other limb, shot away, having been replaced. The new marble and sandstone, however, contrast badly with the older portions of the statuary. Looking from the same stand-point up the broad and beau- tiful Champs Elysees, and to the right and left, showing a view of the Madeleine on the one hand and the Legislative Palace and dome of the Inva- lides on the other, you see also the result of the ravages of war in the numerous young trees that have taken the place of those shot away, and the broken limbs of the old storm-tried ones still re- maining. Immediately upon the restoration of peace an edict was issued requiring citizens to obliterate as far as possible all evidences of conflict, and many of the newly-plastered walls in portions of the city otherwise presenting a decidedly musty appear- ance are the result of the effort to cover the scars made by the bullets of the Commune. The ruins of the once magnificent Hotel de Ville are only just now giving place to a new structure. As in the case of other buildings destroyed, the plans of 140 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. this one were preserved, and it will no doubt some day again loom up in all its original grandeur. In traveling through the cities of Holland, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, and France, one sees the same narrow streets, compelling pedestrians and the brute creation to use alike the same thorough- fare. In Rotterdam and Amsterdam this is par- ticularly noticeable. These old Dutch cities are almost entirely without foot-pavements, and will be no better until, as in Paris, the law shall com- pel all new buildings to front a certain distance from the line of the old, thus affording additional and much-needed street-room. In no instance was this kind of public improvement more praise- worthy than when Napoleon III. caused the form- ing of the Boulevard Richard Lenoir, which was originally a canal lined on both sides for more than a mile with miserable old buildings, the refuge of rats and the human scum of Paris. The houses were destroyed and an arch thrown over the canal. It presents now a beautiful, wide street, with here and there fountains and basins of water, in which are air-shafts, protected by railings en- circling ornamental shrubs and flowers. The large boats still ascend and descend the canal, but the PARIS. 141 stranger would never know of the existence of the subterranean passage were his attention not called to it. But, though Paris streets have been greatly improved and many of them made to compare favorably with, whilst a very few excel, those in our own cities, the great majority of them are narrow and entirely inadequate for business and travel ; yet with all this they are kept remarkably clean. Those not showing the Belgian blocks (almost universally used in Europe) have a surface of asphaltum. An army of sweepers is constantly at work, and the gutters are relieved of the night's accumulation very early in the morning. XII. PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. A Visit to Worth's — Places and Objects of Interest. When Miss Leslie, the authoress, was asked from which of her works she derived the most popularity and profit, she replied, " From the one written upon a subject about which I know the least, namely, my ' Cook Book.' " So, my dear female friends, knowing my deficiencies in regard to dress and its thousand details, but feeling that you are struggling along in the Egyptian darkness of America, I have endeavored to glean for your benefit some of the jargon known as fashion intel- ligence, that I might waft it to comfort, cheer, and lighten your labors for the coming winter. With feet weary I have gone to see " styles," listened to dissertations on jupes, double jupes, tabliers^ gar- niture, dentelles, fabriques et boutons, admired the grace and adroitness with which several hundred French girls displayed a similar amount of drapery, 142 PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 143 which no powers of persuasion could induce me to believe would have an equally fine effect upon me; yea, in pursuit of knowledge on this all-im- portant subject I have penetrated into the estab- lishment of Worth, and what higher authority could any one desire? Alas that I should have to confess it, but the great Mogul of the world of fashion was out of town, meditating, I presume, on coming combinations, toilettes, and victories. But as it was works, not Worth, I went to see, I found his satellites polite and obliging relative to the momentous question of the fashions of the autumn and winter. Black silk still continues the favorite fabric for costumes, although a new material, called Sici- lienne, promises to be more popular for cold weather. It is similar in appearance, and said to be serviceable. The days of the polonaise are numbered. Basques are universal. They are short, round, and but little trimmed. Very small buttons are used, and sleeves are made tight, frequently orna- mented with a bow at the hand. If fringe is used for trimming it is knotted in the silk, and is thick and rich. * Overskirts are looped high at the sides, 144 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. and are so bouffant that crinoline or a tournure is unnecessary. The underskirts are narrow, but most elaborately trimmed, with flounces, plissees, and box pleats. I saw some handsome traveling- and street-suits of gray, drab, and blue cloth, the underskirts finished by a pleat alternated with wide braid, the overskirt trimmed with a single row of the same military braid, and the waist a sort of combination of vest and half-tight jacket. A ribbon-bow was placed at the back of the neck and at the waist. For parties and evening wear delicate shades of blue, pink, pearl, and mauve are used. The dresses are made high in the neck, with long sleeves, over which is worn a tablier overskirt and sleeveless jacket of Valenciennes lace and muslin. At the opera the majority of young ladies wore dresses exceedingly " decollete," while matrons heightened their charms by indulging in the heart-shaped style, decorously trimmed with lace or illusion and ornamented with a brooch or neat bouquet. Gold and silver braid will be extensively used on dresses, cloaks, and wraps. It is expensive and showy. PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 145 The newest wraps are simply small round capes, reaching only to the waist, but entirely covered with lace, braid, and fringe. The dolman is much used. All the cloaks are very short behind, but long and elaborate in front. The slope seems to commence at the hips. Most of these garments are embroidered and finished with feather trim- ming : not the stiff, ungraceful, unserviceable article in vogue with us, but soft, variegated, and made entirely of genuine tips. It is of course pro- portionately expensive. Passementerie and lace are but little used, but jet still retains its sway. At Worth's we saw a velvet coat just completed, the rolling collar of which was entirely formed of beads. Street-dresses are cut much lower in the neck than with us. This permits the wearing of a wide, flaring, white collar not used by us. Long scarfs of guipure lace are fastened to the front of the corsage by a bow, then caught on the shoulder, tied at the waist and allowed to hang gracefully as. a sash. • You meet very few ladies who are not enveloped in some sort of outside wrap. Suits without them are not considered full dress. 146 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. The milliners' windows are beginning to be gay with new styles, which at this early date do not differ materially from the old ones. Those curi- ously contrived structures which cost so much money and are disfiguring to the wearer, but to which we cling so fondly because they are im- ported, are unknown here. The neatest, jauntiest " chapeaux" are certainly the most fashionable in Paris. The most I have seen are simply trimmed with a wreath of flowers, without an atom of lace, ribbon, or illusion. Flowers are not to be used for face-trimming during the autumn, as the brim fits rather close, is turned up at the back and the trimming placed there. Nasturtions, wall-flowers, and berries are coming into bloom, and poppies have gone to seed. The coiffure a la Grecque is either a trans- Atlantic invention or else passe here, for the hair is still arranged with a wonderful multiplicity of puffs, braids, curls, and even the coronet is worn. Gloves must still match the costume and have at least three buttons, but fashion decrees they shall no longer be stitched at the back. The pur- chase of this very important addition to every lady's toilette is a much more complicated business PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. I ^y than with us. You first select the color from a book of kid samples, then are measured with the same accuracy and detail as you would be for shoes. A day is appointed, and you go and try a pair on and make any suggestions and altera- tions ere your order is filled. When completed, each pair is fitted on, and Mademoiselle tells you, with sparkling eyes, "They are marvelous, but Madame's hand is so neat!" The best quality of gloves cost per dozen about eighteen dollars in gold. Trying on goods is part of the Parisian code. No matter what the quality or style of garment may be, you are invited to practically test the fit. The shopkeepers learn your address, and you are overwhelmed with circulars. Persons are sent to the hotels with boxes of ready-made clothing, and samples are freely and generously given. In some cases they endeavor to make you think you have ordered goods. I have seen men with goods wait for hours for the return of a party to whom they wished to exhibit some rare article, evidently thinking a sale would be secured if they could be examined, and verily in most cases they have their reward. 4 8 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. The amount of shopping done by strangers who visit this city is something marvelous. As every joke must be at some one's expense, I might as well tell one of which I was an eye-witness and in a manner " assisted." The editor has been made miserable ever since he landed in this world of arts, sciences, and manufactures, by his inability to procure an American style of paper collar, which he considers indispensable to his appearance and happiness. Having exhausted his small stock of French, and vainly brought into play every avail- able gesture and grimace in his attempt to find the article, he one morning invited a female friend and myself to accompany him in one more search. We finally found a shop in attendance upon which was a sparkling brunette, who did talking enough for the whole party, and who smiled, showing a set of faultless white teeth, and assured us she could " suit Monsieur if he would remove his collar." The new one was produced, and my hero essayed to put it on. But the button-hole was intractable, and in vain he pulled and tugged, cheered on by the maiden, who mixed a little French, a little German, and a good bit of laugh- ter. Finally, warm, red, and dismayed, he was PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 149 about to abandon the attempt, when in a trice Mademoiselle approached, and, both arms around his neck, the situation seemed complete. But their united efforts could not make that collar fit, and with rueful countenance, a shrug of her shoulders, and eyebrows raised, she pronounced it the fault of Mon- sieur's chemise, which was " too low in the neck." Hand-made underclothing is abundant and cheap. Embroideries ditto. White skirts are most elaborately trimmed and flounced. They are made but a trifle shorter than the dress, which adds to their untidiness, but makes the outer garment hang better. Colored stockings and slippers are invariably worn this season, but for winter highly- ornamented kid boots made very high are ex- hibited. Silk handkerchiefs for gentlemen; linen, embroidered with a single initial, are the correct thing for ladies. Plain net veils are rigorously adhered to, and are in most cases wonderful beautifiers. Valenciennes and Duchesse lace are the newest and most expensive things in neck- ties. The latter are more showy than the former. Parasols with feather trimmings are handsome and costly, but many good, substantial sun umbrellas are seen on the boulevard. i5o A SUMMER IN EUROPE. Worth expects to begin in about two weeks to fill his orders for America, and having completed them he will proceed to concoct those marvelous toilettes which are so faultlessly superb that they are never sent to us. His rooms are spacious and well furnished, the attendants elegantly dressed and with the manners of Sultanas. He furnishes material, style, trimmings ; takes no suggestions, leaving nothing to perplex his customer's mind but the bill, which is said sometimes to cause anxious thought both before and after its present- ation. Persons in America have very erroneous ideas about the cost of articles here. Buy what is good in quality and desirable in style, and the price is but little less than with us. Those staple com- modities, velvet, silk, lace, jewelry, and bronzes, are of course less expensive; but they are luxuries of which we should only buy out of our abund- ance. Provisions, fruit, and the necessaries of life are about the same prices as with us. Paris has been truly called a Paradise for shop- ping. You might walk every day in the year through the streets, and always find something new to examine, admire, and buy. The French- PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. x t\ man is too diplomatic ever to acknowledge he has not the article you desire. To get you in the shop and seated is his first object; then he either pre- sumes upon your ignorance or his powers of per- suasion to induce you to take something else. The varied amusement which the study of charac- ter of these people has afforded us has been worth all it costs to come abroad, for they are so entirely different from any other. They have their own aims and objects ; neither know nor care for any- thing out of that circle. They are no travelers, — very few of them speak any language but the mother-tongue; have but few newspapers, and those contain little news except of France. In a word, they are abundantly content with their country, her customs and manners. This city is the very centre and home of art. Concerts of the first order are daily and nightly given in parks and gardens. In the Louvre the amateur could find enough to delight for days, and the artist be afforded an opportunity to copy the finest works of the ancient and modern schools of paintings. There is probably no place more thronged with strangers than the tomb of Napoleon, which in l c 2 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. many respects is most impressive and solemn, — a monument of the victories of the hero who rests there, and a fitting gift of the people from whom his heart never swerved. At the entrance to the crypt are two Corinthian columns, dedicated to his two Marshals who were his friends in adversity, and over the door the words which he dictated with dying breath : " I desire that my ashes may repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I have ever loved." All these and tenfold more places of interest have we visited ; but it would be vain for me to attempt to convey a tithe of their grandeur and beauty. They are studies to the student, savant, or casual observer. The Opera-House, truly said to be the finest in the world, is open three nights in the week, and, despite the heat, is generally crowded. Like everything else in Europe, out of twenty rows of seats in the parquet, the best in the house, about fourteen are reserved for the exclusive use of man- kind. Ladies are compelled to occupy the boxes, which despite their handsome upholstering are close and uncomfortable. The promenade hall, to PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 153 which every one repairs between the acts, glitters like an Eastern palace. No tale of the Arabian Nights was ever more resplendent with lights, gilding, and frescoes. Mirrors multiply the mag- nificence, tall columns support the richly-painted ceilings, polished floors re-echo with the footsteps of the gay throng, and fountains, marble stairways, statues, and carvings, make it seem more like a dream than reality. Paris is not by any means the cosmopolitan city I expected to find, but it is comfortable, light, bright, bewitching, and cheery, and, above all> so cheap that it annually attracts multitudes of strangers who tarry but a while, spend their money freely, haunt the ever-lively parks and gardens, listen to the sirens of the concert saloons, are deluded into buying a lot of French garments, and then go home to remember the pleasant dream of the out-door life of their Parisian sum- mer. We dined with a couple of Scotch people who afforded us considerable amusement. The husband was a sturdy, middle-aged man, who, by virtue of a previous trip, thought himself able to resist the " world, the flesh, and the devil," but it was evidently Ma's first excursion abroad, and H 154 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. there had been considerable preparation therefor. Her head was surmounted by an almost indescrib- able yet marvelous structure of lace, tinsel, and feathers, a most substantial chain encircled her neck, and her whole costume manifested time, thought, and expense. The poor woman, whose physique was robust, was struggling frightfully with the 'eat, and in her efforts to sustain herself in a fashionable manner grew 'otter and 'otter. We had been out on the usual Sabbath afternoon promenade, the Champs Elysees, where on the first day of the week the attractions are doubled. The circus and various cafes give matinees, and in an- ticipation of the rich harvest various temporary saloons, flying horses, Punch and Judy shows, swings, and targets are erected. So we endeav- ored to persuade her that she would be gratified by going thither. Never shall I forget the look of holy horror she cast upon me as she replied, " At home I spend my Sundays at the kirk. Do ye think I would go to the likes of that on the Lord's own day? Paris may be 'andsome, but it is a most ungodly place, where they seem to have forgotten the fourth commandment." My con- science told me it was indeed a true commentary PARIS PRICES AND FASHIONS. 155 on the whole proceeding, and, finding her to be rigid in her Sabbatarian principles, I suggested that she visit the "Siege of Paris," explaining, its nature and assuring her that there at least she would find nothing objectionable. " Well," she replied, in her honest, guileless way, " I wouldn't mind going the length of that ; but nothing shall induce me to encourage them singin' and dancin' women." I have thought of her many times since, so simple-minded and sincere in her faith, but I could tell her that in two days' tarry in " Edin- boro' town" I saw more drunkenness and rowdy- ism than I did during my entire stay in ungodly Paris. XIII. THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. Return to London — Windsor — Warwick Castle — Kenilworth — Stratford-upon-Avon — The Shakspeare Inn — Chatsworth — Feeling of the English towards America. To return to London after a two months' so- journ on the Continent seems almost like coming home ; it is such an inexpressible comfort to eat, drink, shop, talk, and travel in the English language. Pleasant as had been our summer, the greater part had been passed in cities, and we felt that we wanted to see something of the country homes of England, to peep in where it was allowable, and to pass once' more through a land more productive and beautiful than even our fondest expectations had pictured. We had first seen it in the early summer, when the delicacy and beauty of hedge and sward seemed incomparable, but within a few days we have again traversed it, and, although 156 THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. jty autumn's glories are tinting forest and vine, the turf is still like velvet, the grain, yellow and wav- ing, adds variety, and the lawns and gardens, all glowing with the hues of many flowers, make a scene even more pleasing than that which first greeted us. Windsor is indeed a royal home, fit for the good motherly woman who sometimes sojourns there, and whose life even in its domestic details is open to the inspection of her people. Neither in archi- tectural design nor in adornment do the parts to which the public have access equal the stately homes of some of her subjects; but the far-reach- ing park, grand old trees, magnificent drives, walks, and views, with the historical associations of the neighborhood, make it a place of interest and attention. Eton with its famous college is but a step away, and from the turret you can see the home of the poet Gray, and from the harmony of the landscape almost imagine what suggested his world-renowned Elegy. "The curfew toll'd the knell of parting day" as we neared Warwick. Our first view of what Scott calls "the fairest monument of ancient and chival- rous splendor which yet remains uninjured by '4* 4-,v^e" 53 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. time," was more like a revelation than a thing of earthly creation and beauty, for the night was cloudless, and the full harvest moon threw her silver rays o'er castle, towns, and wood, while the peaceful Avon caught up and reflected the scene with a strange and mellowed effect. Do you wonder we forgot the ravages of time and fire, for it seemed so impregnable that we almost believed the legend of the founder, the first Guy, a giant nine feet high, who feasted thirty thousand men at his board, and was victorious in conflict, and a true knight sans penr et sans reproche among his followers. I never realized before how memories would cling to and people a place. We walk mechanically through these stately piles, while thoughts go centuries back, listen to the oft-told story which falls monotonously on our ears, but before us is a strange pageant seen to the mind alone, for the forms which were once of life and beauty have crumbled to dust ages ago. How truthfully Fuller says that " a man travel- ing many miles cannot meet so much astonishing variety as this furlong doth afford !" for we were in the neighborhood of Kenilworth, around which Scott has thrown the glamour of romance in con- THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. l $g nection with England's proud Earl and the sad fate of lovely, trusting Amy Robsart. It is a more complete ruin than we expected to find. Many of the walls have fallen within the past few years, and others are marked " dangerous." The stately en- trance which Leicester decked so gayly to receive the queen whose throne, despite his own marital vows, he hoped to share, is a heap of stones, and the lofty banqueting-hall the abode of owls and bats. The holly and ivy alone are untouched by time and decay. Even the massive stairways, which re-echoed to the trooping of armed hosts, are crumbling away, and the whole is a scene of ruin and desolation. But we had tarried sufficiently long in places renowned for deeds of prowess and ofttimes cruelty: so in the gloaming we turned our steps towards a spot cherished by the nation, revered by the world, and marked by a monument more enduring than stone or battlement ; for the fame of Shakspeare will grow brighter while years roll on, and as men and women become truly educated and thoroughly cultivated will they appreciate more and more the genius which glows in every line of his works. Stratford-upon-Avon is a simple x 6o A SUMMER IN EUROPE. country village of neither architectural beauty nor pretension. Half hidden away from the world's busy cares, it is known only as the spot where the poet of all time lived, loved, and died. It is the haunt of sage and scholar, and guarded as jeal- ously as the richest jewel in the monarch's crown. To be consistent, we lodged in Shakspeare Inn, in a chamber called by poetic license "All's well that ends well," with " Romeo and Juliet" for next neighbors, and the " Merchant of Venice" across the way. We forgot to do things in a Pickwickian sense, — here all was so unmistakably Shaksperian. Over the stairway hung a fine portrait of the boyish Will, underneath which we read the well- known lines : " Take him for all in all, We shall not look upon his like again." Even the china from which we took our break- fast was ornamented with views of the birthplace. You never saw any place more carefully pre- served than the house in Henley Street. The custodian says they do not like a grain of plaster to fall off and be lost. We noted the old fire-place where he sat and watched the glowing embers, THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. I 6 I with brain teeming with the poetic creations of his fancy, examined the desk where he first conned lessons and then wrote, and saw the ring believed to have been his own seal and signet. In the museum is an odd, courteous letter, addressed to him, and a fine portrait, the gift of Mr. Hunt, which none dare copy. A handsome library of the various editions of his works lines one side of the wall, and on the other is a book-case filled with two hundred and thirteen volumes of com- mentaries on the plays. They are in manuscript from the pen of J. O. Halliwell, who brought and placed them there with the restriction that no use is to be made of them until after his death. There are many interesting mementos which various dis- tinguished men have contributed, autograph let- ters of Garrick, Jonson, and our own Washington Irving. In a word, any and every memento which can possibly throw light on the early life of the poet is sacredly treasured. Across the field about a mile distant is Shottery, where in a pretty cottage embosomed in "trees and surrounded by pleasant pastures he went to woo Anne Hatha- way. I wonder if he did it after the impassioned manner of Romeo, or showed at some fancied j62 a SUMMER IN EUROPE. slight the fierce jealousy of Othello ? Tradition tells us that she had neither the beauty of Juliet nor the grace of Rosalind, but in after-years de- veloped somewhat the traits of Katharine. Be that as it may, would any but a love-sick swain sing, " Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love" ? We have nothing reliable in regard to the trials and discomforts of his domestic life ; his works tell no tale of suffering, and he sleeps peacefully in the picturesque church upon Avon, with his kindred about him, and the world doing homage at the shrine. No one dare raise the stone for " fear of the curse," says the story, and with the sweetly solemn strains of the organ filling our ears, we sat us down there and mused how much more immortal than life was genius. From Stratford we made rather a circuitous journey through Derbyshire, that we might see Chatsworth, poetically termed the Palace on the Peak, said to be, and deservedly so, the hand- somest place in England. The owner, the Duke THE BIRTHPLACE OF SHAKSPEARE. 163 of Devonshire, is a man of immense fortune, and possesses, it is said, ninety thousand acres. He has been a widower thirty-five years, and has three sons and a daughter. The heir, the Marquis of Hartington, is unmarried, and quite prominent in political circles. On the estate is Edensor, a model village, if we may judge from external ap- pearance. The church, the school-house, and the green first strike your eye. The houses, neatly built, picturesquely situated, and each surrounded by a garden well filled with fruit and flowers, show the true picture of English cottage life. We can scarcely convey a tithe of the magnificence of the palatial private home of the family. The apart- ments are hung with velvet, satin, tapestry, and embossed leather, the doorways and chapel are of Derbyshire marble, with exquisite wood carv- ings by Gibbon. There are pictures by Landseer and statues by Canova. Vases of Sevres, tables of malachite and Labrador spar, gifts of china and silver from the different crowned heads of Europe, coronation chairs, ormolu clocks, Louis Quatorze furniture, rare old musical instruments, each in itself a fortune, yet an inconsiderable part of the great wealth of this one man. The grounds arc 164 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. handsomely decorated, and in the immense park herds of deer, hares, rabbits, and pheasants are found. The houses of the tenantry betoken thrift and good management, for the duke is said to be a model land-owner as well as benevolent man. After seeing the compactness and finish of Eng- land's rural homes, I will never blame her people for not being more enthusiastic over the great straggling grandeur of the scenery of the New World. Too late, I fear, will we realize how ruthlessly in our love of gain we are sacrificing great tracts of timber and neglecting to plant by the wayside. We may never equal them in the culture of grass and flowers, but, considering our years, we have indeed made giant strides in the arts and manufactures. They are beginning to <* realize our greatness, to feel proud of our attain- ments, to long to know the fascination which our republican government has for its subjects, and in the many weeks in which I have traveled from coast to coast I have been struck not only by the intelligence of the people, but by the great kindli- ness of feeling they manifest towards their way- ward child, America. XIV. SCOTLAND. Edinburgh — The People — Intemperance — The Trossachs — Lochs Lomond and Katrine — Lake Windermere. Scotland is indissolubly connected with the valor of Wallace and Bruce, and the efforts of the people to shake off the rule of England form an important historical chapter. The pens of Scott and Burns have made the world familiar with the beauty of the mountain and lake scenery, and the sad story of their lovely and hapless Queen Mary has been dramatized and wept over by many gen- erations. It would be impossible to imagine a city more picturesquely situated than Edinburgh. She crowns the hill and fills the valley, and consists of heights and hollows, acclivities and ravines. Each house, so far as appearance goes, might be a castle, and the various statues and monuments tend to beautify the city as well as perpetuate the names 15 i 6 5 !66 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. which they bear. The Highlanders of stalwart frame, bare-legged, and each in the dress of his clan, the old men with bagpipes, and the windows gay with tartans and plaids, all tell you the story of Scotchland. The people are social and agreeable, delight in making you acquainted with their na- tional characteristics, and warmly welcome you in their earnest old-time manner. Intemperance is the bane of the country, acknowledged so on every side, and many remedies except the right one pro- posed to stop the evil. In the House of Commons Mr. Disraeli stands up and regrets the sad increase of drink among working-people, and in the neigh- boring town of Wigan a clergyman is applying for license to sell liquor. I sat down to a lunch which consisted of bread, cheese, Scotch whisky, brandy, and wine, and the gray-haired man who presided reverently asked God to bless what was spread before us, and then proceeded to mix "toddy" for his daughters. At another time a man who was denouncing the want of religion among the French, and their disregard of the Sabbath, emptied two bottles of wine, explaining as he did so that " we Glasgow men are very thirsty fellows," apparently forgetful that it was God's own day he was de- SCOTLAND. 167 bauching. We live in what is comparatively a temperance country, a fact which I believe mainly due to the persistent efforts of the women of our land. Here they prescribe liquor when you are sick and when you are well, for cold and for heat, for fatigue or lack of spirits, on account of the damp climate, to cure nervousness and to induce sleep, which excuses may all be summed up in one phrase, they use it freely because they like it. The wine bottle or mug is given to the child scarce able to walk, the wife hands the steaming kettle to the husband that he may brew a "jorum" of punch for both, and brothers and sisters sit and sip convivially together. The absence of " some- thing to drink" is a lack of hospitality. In Glas- gow, which an Englishman of note described to me as the most " drunken city" in Great Britain, and which one of their orators the other day char- acterized as " running a hard race with Liverpool and Birmingham for brutality #nd degradation in this particular," the people are so God-fearing that they allow no public travel on Sunday. In reply to any remonstrance they tell you that moderation is the only thing to be observed, that you might as well legislate or prescribe what a man shall eat 15* 1 68 A SUMMER IN EUROPE. as what he shall drink, but the flashing eye, the thick half-maudlin accents, and the odd snatches of songs which come floating up the hotel corri- dors tell the story of some who o'erstep the bounds of prudence. The streets of the manu- facturing towns are full of sad, sorrowful sights, men and boys fighting and reeling, and women half clothed, surrounded by their children, yet filling the air with foul cries. It is desecration of a country grandly beautiful, easy of culture, and rich in productions and manu- factures. The people of the Highlands are proud of their descent and achievements, and rather affect to despise their neighbors of the low and coast counties. It is said that they think the Queen should be a proud woman, since the Princess Louise made so fine a match as the Marquis of Lome. "Are you a mechanic?" queried some one. " No, sir," was the indignant reply : " I am a Macgregor." We crossed the Trossachs, a wild, wooded, craggy gorge, where Fitz James lost his " gallant grey," and sailed down Lochs Katrine and Lo- mond. You remember i6g SCOTLAND. The boat had touched this silver strand Just as the hunter left his stand, And stood concealed amid the brake, To view this Lady of the Lake." Ben Lomond spreads northward and overhangs the lake most of the -way. We did not climb its side, although the way was temptingly spread with heather, but we thoroughly enjoyed the deli- cious loveliness of the scene, and thought, with the poet, — " Here Nature's works alone are seen, No cultivation by the hand of man." We have chosen Windermere, the gem of Eng- lish lakes, as our last resting-place. Here in this charming pastoral district lived Wordsworth, Cole- ridge, and DeQuincey. The neighboring country is full of delightful excursions by water, coach, or on foot. We will tarry a few days, but when we turn to take a parting look at the landscape we will not say, with Gray, " We had almost a mind to go back again," for the beacon which lures us is home, and the ocean looks neither so wide nor so deep as to affright us. We have traveled over many miles, seen and iy Q A SUMMER IN EUROPE. studied much that was famous and grand in art and architecture. Human nature has afforded us thought, admiration, and amusement. Each nation has its peculiar characteristics, some of which are worthy of imitation, others to be avoided and denounced. The name American is in many sec- tions a synonym for foolish boasting and reckless extravagance. We have endeavored to correct erroneous impressions which such conduct has created, and in reply to many inquiries to tell the true story of our national greatness, not deny our faults, admire wherein they excel us, acknowledge that we are young in literature and the arts, prove to them that our late war was a battle for the right, speak a good word for the Centennial, and answer a hundred questions which show how little they understand the magnitude and extent of our country. THE END. H 61- 79 * \-?mrs ^ V //v-Wy v? fc ^ c° %i^ °o ^ *. — .% -w ■ t • L * * ft. •**•-/ \ JAN 79 N. MANCHESTER, INDIANA 46962