0' y 1 • .^' 0- .'^•^iA'^ %/ /^fe'-. ^^.*^ A;c^%f^ f.° ^'^'•^-^^ \ r-'-':?'m^imm. »J Ptf M ^ h ;?' BY THE WAY Travel Letters Written During Several Journeys Abroad Describing Sojourns in England, Scotland, Ireland France, Germany, Austria-Hungary Italy, Greece, and European AND Asiatic Turkey BY AGNESS GREENE FOSTER Author of **You & Some Others" "A Royal Road" ** Blessings" Etc. Illustrated PAUL ELDER & COMPANY PUBLISHERS . . . SAN FRANCISCO > J- > a > > K r* n -^ t-> k-. d ZO ^ z s SCOTLAND There is a long, hard climb up the hill leading to the fortifications, for Stirling is still a garrisoned town, and the castle stands on the edge of a steep, isolated rock over- hanging the Forth. Here are the steps where Mary, Queen of Scots, stood to sur- vey her possessions, the window out of which the body of Douglas was thrown, and the raised dais, on the battlements, from which Queen Vidtoria reviewed her troops. From the battlements there is a fine view of the country for miles around, with the statue of Wallace to be seen in the far distance. Just before crossing the drawbridge at the entrance to the castle stands a bronze Robert Bruce, whose feat- ures, even in iron, bring back the foremost of Scottish chiefs. w W W 7P W W When a Scotchman tells you to do or see anything, he invariably adds, " If the day be fine," and true enough much de- pends on the "fineness** of the day in a country where it rains a little every day. The good wishes had been so many and so fervent that we might have a fine day for the coach drive through the Trossachs that nature put on her brightest smile and never shed a tear until we were under shelter. 31 BY THE WAY The name Trossachs signifies " bristly country," and Scott, in his " Lady of the Lake," tells how it "bristles" with beauty and romance. That old story is, after all, the best guide to the lake region of Scot- land. The big red coach, with its four white horses and red-coated driver, meets the passengers as they alight from the travel- ing carriages, and dashes away almost be- fore they are seated. Then follows in quick succession pidlures of white roads bordered with purple heather, with a back- ground of the dark green of the mountain; of a stone bridge spanning the blue waters of a salmon stream ; of a wild bit of moun- tain scenery, with a road seemingly straight up its rugged sides; and last comes the view of the calm waters of Loch Katrine. The boat Rob Roy receives the party from the coach and rounds Ellen's Isle, sailing almost the entire length of the beautiful loch. When it finally lands, there is another coach waiting to carry us across the mountains, and on to Inversnaid, where, after visiting the waterfall, the train is taken for Glasgow. Glasgow is not a piduresque town — in fa(5t, the Clyde is the prettiest thing about 32 DRYBURGH ABBEY WHERE SIR WALTER SCOTT IS BURIED SCOTLAND it — but it is modern and progressive, and it has two attractive public buildings, the cathedral and university. AYR : T>URNs's land lies between Glasgow and ^ the sea, and from the moment that one alights from the train, at each step is found some haunt of the much-loved poet. It takes but a short time to peep through the window into the room where Burns was born, and to compare the humble cot where he lived his life with the magnificent place he occupies in death. His tomb is set high up on a hill in the midst of a park whose sides slope down to the bonnie Doon, 33 IRELAND When the glass is up to thirty ^ Be sure the tueather ivill be dirty. When the glass is high, O "very ! Therein be rain in Cork or Kerry. When the glass is loiv, Lork ! There'' II be rain in Kerry and Cork. * -X- * -X- ^- -Jfr And ivhen the glass has climbed its best. The sky *ll be iveeping in the ivest. Kate Douglas Wiggin. 'TpHE shortest sea voyage between Scot- "*' land and Ireland is from Stranraer to Larne. Stranraer is a short ride from Ayr, but the S. S, Princess Vi5foria was five hours crossing the channel. It was cold and rough, and many of the passengers were ill. One of the most fascinating of trips is that to the Giant's Causeway. From Larne the road takes its way through a number of thriving towns, and the country looks neat and has an air of the well-to-do. At Portrush the scene changes, and be- comes, almost at once, one of wild rugged- ness. The cliffs rise high on one side, and the steep precipice at the edge of the tramway goes down to the sea on the other. 34 IRELAND This is an extraordinary coast. The adion of the waves and the tides on the lime- stone has made the rocks take on fantastic shapes. The ocean is always tempestuous. It must be beautiful from the water, but nothing save small boats can venture here, so the view is almost unknown. This sort of scene continues until we reach Dunluce Castle. Perched on the summit of an isolated rock, not far from the shore, is this pidur- esque fortress, separated from the main- land by a deep chasm. The castle is reached by a drawbridge, while beneath, the waves beat madly against the sides of the rock, black with the age of centuries. The word"causeway" means paving, and these Irish giants paved well. Basaltic rock is plentiful along the north coast, but this particular distridl alone embraces these odd varieties of form. The caves along the coast can be seen only by means of row- boats. These are manned by strong and trustworthy sailors. The sea is very rough, and the boatmen delight in making the trip seem even more hazardous than per- haps it really is. After the caves have been explored the boat is rowed to the extreme end of the Causeway, and it is during the 35 BY THE WAY walk back that we get the best idea of these wonderful formations, and have a hair-raising experience on a narrow path three hundred and twenty feet in air. At first it was delightful — high, of course, but with a broad path. On turning a sharp corner, suddenly we came to a narrowing of the way, with nothing but rocks and sky above, and rocks and sea below. We dared not turn back, and we walked that terrible pass until we came to a widening in the path — it seemed hours — and then Ruth and I sat down and cried from sheer exhaustion. It cost us ten shillings to enter by the sea and six to make our exit by land. How is that for the downtrodden Irish ? KILLARNEY: T WISH I were a poet! But even the poet -■- laureate, who recently visited here, says, "Words cannot do justice to this sweet, sad scene." His word "sad" pleased me, for I said yesterday to Ruth that the scenery of Ireland has a tenderness about it that makes one be quiet and think things. We started at nine-thirty in a four- horse coach with a bugler. The road lies 36 > c en ^ IRELAND along the north side of the lower lake, and it wasn't long before the exquisite mountain scenery came into view. The Purple Mountains grew more interesting at every step. Presently we came to Kate Kearney's cottage, and our Irish guide turned and asked, in the richest of brogues: **Oh ! have you ever heard of Kate Kearney? She lived at the Lakes of Killarney ; One glance of her eye would make a man die ; And have you never heard of Kate Kearney?'* Further on we struck the mountain pass, where the coach could not go. We dis- mounted and were placed on ponies. I thought at first I could not ride one, but I soon got used to the saddle, and I would not have missed the wild, weird pass over the mountain for anything. There was nothing " sad " or " tender " about that. It was fearful, awesome and mysterious. We left the ponies at the foot of the mountains and paid toll into Lord Bran- don's estate in order to reach the boats. Lunch was served on the banks of the upper lake. These lakes have to be explored in row- boats, on account of the narrows, a pass between the rocks not more than ten feet BY THE WAY apart. Such varied beauty I have seen nowhere else. The tender grace of the heather-strewn valley against the back- ground of hills, the frequent change from the gentle to the stern, the calm-flowing waters, the smiling cascades turning into dashing catarads over dangerous piles, are a never-ending source of surprises. The upper lake is more placid and less changeable, but the lower has every change, from smooth, glass-like waters to the rapids, which we "shoot" in no fearless manner. Finally we alight on Innisfallen Island to see the ruins of the abbey ; then we cross to Ross Castle. Here another coach and four was in waiting to carry us home. After ten miles by coach, five on horse- back and thirteen by boat, I adually dress for dinner. w TT W w w w We were up with the larks this morn- ing, packed everything very carefully, sent the basket off by carted luggage, and nearly came to blows with the stupid paddy at the station over the settlement. After breakfast the coach came dashing up, and away we flew again, over the purple hills, through shady lanes, past the wee farms and the hovels, catching glimpses 38 IRELAND of castles, churches and rufns. The most beautiful of all is Muckross Abbey. I had no idea we could possibly repeat the pleasures of yesterday, but in some respedls we exceeded them. Our road today wound up and around Eagle Nest Mountain, in the dark recesses of which the eagle builds its nest. Here, too, is the home of the famous Killarney echo. The efFed: pro- duced by the notes of a bugle is almost supernatural. The coachmen have a clever manner of talking to the echoes. For instance, ours called out, "Pat, were you drunk last night?" and the confession came back from a thousand hills, " Drunk last night, drunk last night, drunk last night." The literary Killarnian claims for this beautiful region that it was the ruins of the old castle on the shores of the Middle Lake which called forth Tennyson's mas- terpiece, " The Bugle Song." The Purple Mountains take their name from the purple of the heather. One can see every shade, from the light pink-lav- ender to the dark, almost red, purple. We arrived at GlengarifFjust as the sun was sinking. The valley, the lakes, the mountains, the red coach, with its four big 39 BY THE WAY horses darting**in and out of the winding road, and finally galloping up to the ex- quisite little inn at Glengariff, high on a knoll overlooking the blue waters of the Bay of Bantry, are among the delightful details of today's pi6ture. The shore line of this attradlive bay can be appreciated only when one is taken in a small boat, threading one's way through the numberless private yachts that dot its waters. One of the gentlemen of our party, thinking to have some sport with the boatman, said that only one lady could go in each boat, and that he must choose the one he wished to go with him. After a critical survey the answer came, " Divil a step will I go without the both of yez ! " and he handed us both into the boat, and left the gentlemen to seek a boat by them- selves. CORK: TT7E LEFT the coach at Bantry and took ^ ^ an observation car to Cork. After a rest of a few hours and a dainty luncheon a jaunting-car "shook" us over the road to Blarney Castle. The road lies through a beautifully cultivated country. There is a charm about the sweet old castle that is 40 IRELAND indescribable. The view from the top is su- perb, taking in the valley of the Lee, with the old Roman bridge in the far distance. When any one tells you that he kissed the Blarney stone, take it with several grains of salt. It is a physical impossibility for one who wears petticoats. Cork is, to my mind, the prettiest town in all Ireland. It lies in the midst of lime- stone quarries, and is white to a degree. I had not read Thackeray's " Sketch Book " before I came here, and I wondered why some one had not raved over this magnifi- cent part of the world. I have since been delighted to find that he did rave — I use the word advisedly — as no one but Thack- eray can. Cork has more well-known landmarks than any other place in Ireland. In a little three-storied bell-tower in the center of the tow^n hangs the chime of bells made famous by Francis Mahony in his — **With deep afFedlion and recolleftion I often think of the Shandon bells." One of the pleasant drives from Cork takes one to Sir Walter Raleigh's home at Youghal. For more than four hundred years it has stood with but little change. 41 BY THE WAY Attached to the grounds is the garden where Raleigh experimented with the po- tato, which here was first grown in Ireland. We were a rather solemn lot on the drive to Queenstown, for all but Ruth and me were to sail from there for home. This seeing people off isn't what "it's cracked up" to be, especially when they are off for the land where "some one loves you and thinks of you far away," but we wished them bon voyage^ and Ruth and I turned our hard-set faces northward. * "SS- ^ •»• * * DUBLIN — Great Denmark Street: **No wind can drive my bark astray. Nor change the tide of destiny. ' ' A ND SO this all too happy summer must -^^ come to a close. I remain here to study, and Ruth goes to Iceland. We shall meet in the spring, when I shall have taken my degree (?), and go to sunny Italy together. It is said that to travel through Europe with one and still remain friends, stamps both as remarkably amiable persons. Without wishing to seem egotistical, Fd like you to know that before bidding Ruth 42 IRELAND good-bye she invited me to join her later in this jaunt through Italy. I was sitting on the deck of the ship that was to carry Ruth away from me, looking at the lights out over Dublin Bay, when some one touched me on the shoulder, and, on turning around, there stood dear Miss B., who was with us for a time at Killarney. I met her father on the street the other day, and told him of Ruth's intended departure. They were very good to come to us that night, and I shall never forget their kindness in help- ing me over these first days without my blessed Ruth. Through them I have made some charming friends who occupy the time before I start in to study. w 7r w w w W I have had a delightful outing, one which enabled me to see, and in an un- common manner, certain out-of-the-way places where the casual tourists rarely go, and it has all been due to the friends of Miss B. These Irish know how to do things well. We started away, a regular cavalcade, with most of the women in the coach and a few on horseback. The servants went ahead with the wagons carrying the viands 43 BY THE WAY and rugs, and, oh, a hundred things we Americans would never think of. Dublin has more pleasure resorts at her door than any other city in the world. We drove out through Phoenix Park, pass- ing the summer home of the Lord Lieu- tenant of Ireland. We made our first stop at Killiney Castle to get the fine view of Dublin Bay. It was from this spot that the poet wrote : " O Bay of Dublin ! My heart you're troublin'. Your beauty haunts me ' Like a fever dream.'* Then we dashed away to Bray and Bray's Head, along the Esplanade, through the Scalp, a wild bit of country in the county of Wicklow, and the Dargle, which is a romantic glen. We never go slowly — the horses are either galloped, or stopped altogether. Then on we flew through Enniskerry, a lovely little village, where everybody stopped or ran to the door to watch us go by, with a wave of the hand, and always a " God bless ye ! " I could not believe such magnificence was possible in Ireland as was found at Powers Court had I not seen it with my 44 IRELAND own eyes. It is the finest private mansion I have seen in all my travels. The Vale of Avoca, which called from Moore these lines, *« There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As the vale on whose bosom these bright waters meet,'* did not appeal to me so much as did Killarney. The city of Kilkenny, called the " Marble City," impressed itself on me. The streets are paved with marble of their own quarry- ing, and what is better, the inhabitants have fire without smoke, from a peculiar coal found in that distrid:. They also claim to have water without mud, and earth without bog, and however true these boasts may be, it is a wonderfully clean city. The coach was sent back from this place by the servants, and we returned by train. It all seems very tame in this telling of mine, but the trip, every moment of it, was delightful. Sometimes we would all get out and walk; sometimes the ladies would exchange with the men and ride horseback; or when it would rain for a few moments the men would crowd into 45 BY THE WAY the coach. Then there would be good fun, and I could get an idea of their thoughts. They are great story-tellers, these Irish, and have such warm hearts. And the songs they sang, when shall I ever hear such again ? And yet there was not a young person, that is, one under thirty, in the party. Other things besides wine, my dear, "improve with age.** There is a pathos about the love of an Irishman for his country that is most touching, and each county vies with the others in patriotic loyalty ; and let me whis- per in your ear, that the Irish gentry are far and away ahead of "what the world thinks" they are. In fad:, they are "deloitful." I suppose you have noticed the number of" Kills" which form some part of many of the names I have referred to. "Kir 'is the Gaelic for "church." One of my Irish friends told the story of an Englishman who went over to Ire- land and fell upon the following conver- sation between two tough-looking natives : "I'm afther being over to Kilpatrick," said the first. "An' I," replied the other, "am afther being over to Kilmary." 46 IRELAND "And where are you going now?*' asked number one. "To Kilmore," was the answer. The frightened Enghshman concluded not to tarry in such a bloodthirsty country, and stood not upon the order of his going. W w % % W ^ Since writing that last letter I have been very busy getting in trim for work, and at last Vm "fit." I have been taking my afternoons to see this wonderful city. I told you, did I not, that because I am in these blessed petticoats, I am obliged to recite "apart" — not apart from the petticoats, but apart from the unpetticoated sort. My home is in quite a good-looking house, and it is well furnished, but the landlady is away, and the maidens do it up when and how they please. I have a large room " front," and as I study here every morning, and write much of the remainder of the time, my room is "tidied" only when I ask for it, and then, of course, it is an extra. Will you believe me when I tell you that nowhere in Europe have I seen more lovely or better dressed women than right here on Sackville Street ? I have accounted 47 BY THE WAY for it, in some degree, by the fa6l that our Irish cousins follow the American styles more closely than do any of their immedi- ate sisters. The Irish woman is always in good form. One never sees her wearing any sort of jewelry before luncheon. She is usually found in the morning in a short, tailored skirt, a chic blouse and hat; some dainty confedion of lace and muslin in the afternoon ; and, almost without excep- tion, the middle class, as well as the gentry, *Mress" for dinner; then it is one sees the beautiful jewels handed down by their forebears. The college buildings are delightfully quaint, with multitudes of old-fashioned wee window-panes which stud their faces. Statues of two of Ireland's beloved sons, Burke and Goldsmith, are on either side of the entrance. Opposite is the famous Bank of Ireland, beautiful in design, and the general post-office. Statues of "Hiber- nia,'* "Mercury" and "Fidelity" adorn the latter. For some reason an Irishman, in his native country, will not admit ignorance on any subjed:. He would rather tell you wrongly than to say, " I don't know." Some one asked a "jarvey" what those 48 O O H C! O ?3 t^ f^ < ^ M !^ IRELAND statues I have just mentioned were. Pat hadn't their names handy in his mind, so he drew on his imagination, and replied: "Thim's the twelve apostles, sur." "Twelve apostles," shouted the in- quirer; "why, man, there are only three of them ! " To which Pat, not to be caught by such a trifle, said : "Sure, an' yer honor wouldn't have thim all out in this dom rain, would ye ? The rest of 'em are inside sortin' o' the letters." The first day I was shown over Dublin my guide, in pointing out the college, said : " This is the Library, and an institute for learning." I asked, " How far does the Library extend ? " meaning, which was the Library and which the Institute. The honest, but thick-headed, paddy replied, "To the roof, mum." 4fr w W W w w The comparative negled: by tourists of a country like Ireland, where nature has lavished her charms with such wonderful profusion, can only be explained by its hitherto unsettled condition, and its long- a-dying notoriety for inferior accommoda- tions and modes of transportation. But whatever difficulties and discomforts may 49 BY THE WAY have existed to deter the traveler in former days, it seems to me that httle now is wanting to render a tour through Ireland all that the rational traveler can desire. It is well nigh impossible to tell of the exquisite scenery of the beautiful island without seeming fulsome. Almost every county so teems with prehistoric remains, and the island is so begirt with varied at- tractiveness, that it is as alluring to the student and artist as it is to the pleasure seeker. 5° ITALY For Italy ^ my Italy, mere tvords are faint ! No ivriter'' s pencil can con'vey thy heo'ven^s blue^ Thy languorous bay. Thou art thine oiun interpreter. I dream and ivake and Jin d no ruords for her — For Italy 'j soft-storied charms I throiv the English ivords aivay. Her gondolas drip through the night — / stretch my arms toivard Napolij And ^^ Monte BelW'' softly say. Harriet Axtell Johnstone. SORRENTO : TTow Splendid it seems to be free agairx ! ■*■ '■' And yet I do believe it does one good — having been out of the habit of studying — to take a few months every year or so and to give close application to some subjedl. I was glad w^hen the time came to end traveling and to begin study; and now I am glad that I can cease my studies and again begin sight-seeing. Ruth, as you know, found it necessary to return to America before rejoining me. She sailed from New York the i8th and I met her at Ponta Delgada. Ponta Del- gada is the chief city of the island of San 51 BY THE WAY Miguel, which, in turn, is the principal island of the Azores, and it is prominent for having the most beautiful gardens in the world. Among the passengers who boarded the ship with me at Ponta Delgada was a de- lightful Portuguese family — the mother, son and his wife — who came with us to Italy. They are cultured people, and speak Enghsh perfedlly, though the mother and wife had never before been oiF the island. We left the Azores on the 27th of April, passing Gibraltar on May Day. Gibraltar is not so frowning as I had im- agined, for the graceful rock smiled down on us as if in greeting. W 7v w vT w w All that has been written about the blue Mediterranean is true. It is blue as noth- ing else is. The sky, those days, was greenish pink, and you know what a de- light to the eye is the blending of these colors. But the one bright memory that stands out clearest when I think of the Mediterranean is the sunset. I remember one night in particular. The good captain told me to hasten from dinner. I drew my chair close to the rail, and out beyond the horizon I saw a city of fire. The beau- 52 ITALY tiful mansions, and cathedrals, and castles, with turrets and towers, were all ablaze. Through the streets people in fiery red draperies were flying from the flames. Sometimes an old man with flowing beard appeared in the midst of them, and with outstretched hands, would seem to call aloud. The flames turned to a greenish gold, the smoke rolled away, and far be- yond appeared a Moorish village, the temples carved of alabaster. Suddenly, through the lace-like pillars, came the faintest tint of pink, growing dimmer and dimmer, until only the outlines could be discerned. A great billowy sea of foam rolled over the village, and divided on either side of a world of golden fire, and, as I gazed, it dropped into the black water. A voice said, " Come, dear, the captain wants you to see the moon come up out of the sea." It was my blessed Ruth. " Did you see that burning city and Moorish village?" I asked, as soon as I had returned to earth. "Yes, dear,'* she replied, and there were tears in her eyes, too. 45" ^ 46" 45" 4fr % This morning we were called at five o'clock to see the sun rise over Vesuvius. The same ball of golden fire which went 53 BY THE WAY down into the sea that night crowned for a brief moment the wonderful Mount. The Bay of Naples is unlike anything else on earth. On one side are the castles, or villas, or pleasure resorts, whichever it be that comes to your gaze as you glide past; on the other, the turquoise-blue water; and far in the distance, like a camel with two humps, rising out of the sea, is Capri. The air is filled with music, and the scene is one of the wildest confusion. Every sort of craft that sails the seas, every sort of flag, every sort of sound, causes you to wonder if you will ever get through that throng. The ship is stopped, the steps are let down the side, and the dodlor and the purser with the mail come on board. While we were busy with our letters from home, one of the party with whom we were to go through the Blue Grotto had bargained with a boatman to take us to the ship that goes to Capri. The mode of going ashore here at Naples is different from that of any other port where I have landed. Hundreds of stout row-boats come from the various hotels, just as the omnibuses meet the trains in the smaller cities at home. 54 OLD STEPS AND SEA WALL, CAPRI ITALY The Blue Grotto must be visited on a clear, calm day, and some old travelers advised us, if the day was fine, to go diredly from the ship before landing. The captain allowed us to leave our luggage on board, as the ship will stay in Naples for several days to unload freight. There were six of us, then, transferred to the German Lloyd S. S, Nixe, As we sailed away, Vesuvius and Sor- rento were to the left, the city of Naples behind us, and the outlines of Capri ahead. We went directly to the Grotto, or rather as near as the large boat goes. Here, again, we took to the row-boats, two in each. The Grotto itself is a cavern in the side of the huge rocks of Capri. It is necessary to lie flat in the boat to get through the tiny opening. I could readily see why the authorities do not permit visitors on stormy days, for the sea was rough even on this quiet morning. The interior of the cave is high, and the effed of the refledion of the sun on the blue waters is indescribable. Everything under water takes on a silvery hue, and the echo is weird. On board the ship once more, we sailed away from this real fairies' abode to the town of Capri, arriving at high noon, and 55 BY THE WAY as the town is on the side of a mountain, we climbed up a good part of its side to get a lunch. It was my first Italian meal, and it was delicious. Of course there was macaroni in the Italian style, with beef-stock and tomatoes, and fried fresh sardines. The dessert was a fruit, something like our California plum, which I tasted for the first time at the Azores, — the nespera. After the repast we hired a carriage for Anacapri. The road, hewn out of solid rock, lies along the mountainside, giving us a magnificent view of the bay, with Vesuvius always in sight. We caught the Nixe on her return trip to Sorrento. Here, again, the little boats meet us, each bearing the name of its hotel on a silken banner. The boatman shouts out the name of the one he represents until a passenger calls, in turn, his choice. We were going to the Cocumella, and I wish you might have heard the boatman call, in his soft, musical voice, "Co — ceh — m-e-1-l-a! Co — ceh — m-e-1-l-a!" The steward helped us into the boat, and we were rowed to an opening in the cliff. The town lies on the top of perpendicular rocks, and we struggled up five hundred steps 56 I^^n 11^ H ■t ' %. ITALY cut in a tunnel through the mountain, coming out at the top into the lovely garden of this hotel. The Cocumella was once a monastery, and its situation is ideal. Here is a place where I should be willing to spend the remainder of my days. NAPLES : Ty UTH is such a brick ! She is not afraid -■-^ of her shadow, and she likes to be alone some time each day. That remark was called forth by the number of tourists one meets who are worn to the bone by companions who are afraid to room alone or to look out of the window alone — to eat, sleep, walk, talk, or pray alone- — and who must have some one close by them every moment of the time. Last night, on our walk about Sorrento, we called at the house of Mr. Marion Crawford. This morning in two carriages, for there were eight of us, we went for the drive from Sorrento to Amalfi. The road, cut out of the rock, with a balustrade of stone to protedt the traveler from the precipice, is regarded as one of the finest pieces of engineering in existence. Sometimes a 57 BY THE WAY viadu(5t, perhaps Rvc hundred feet high, will span a chasm. The road winds up and around the mountain, and the view, with the Bay of Naples at its feet, is sublimely picturesque. The almost per- pendicular sides of the mountain, on the different levels, are terraced and planted with olive, lemon, or other fruit trees. The drive was ended at Vietri about five, and we returned to Naples by train, having our first glimpse of Pompeii and our first ride on an Italian railway. w W W w W W It rained in torrents all day, but, nothing daunted, we started for the Customs. That sounds very commonplace and innocent, but it spells a mad, wild sort of a time. In the first place, we had to beg, borrow, and finally to steal 2Lfacchino (porter), and induce him to get a boatman to fetch our luggage from the ship, fully a mile out in the bay. We paid him first to show there were no hard feelings, again to get a tar- paulin to cover the luggage, and again and again for — I know not what. Then we sat down and waited — stood up and waited — purchased all the post- cards in the little cafe and wrote to every one we knew — waited some more, and, 58 ITALY finally — yes, they came. There was an- other transferring of coins — always from my hand into that of the facchino — then the Customs with its fees, and the cabman with his, and all the time I had to take their word for the change, for I had not mastered the lira, ^ w W tT W W Before leaving Naples we visited Pom- peii. I was disappointed at first with these wonderful ruins. There is much that one must imagine. One must take the word of the guides for everything, and they have a little way of "space-filling" which has lost its charm for me. But Pompeii grew on me each moment of my stay. We were taken in a sedan chair carried on the shoulders of two strong peasants. The general appearance is that of a town which has been swept by a tornado, unroofing the houses and leaving only the walls standing. It is on these walls that one finds the exquisite bits of coloring which has given us the Pompeian tints. ^ ^ ^ ¥t ^ ^ The charm of Naples lies in the won- derful scenery surrounding it, and in its street scenes, with the noise and clatter of its street vendors. Life in the poorer 59 BY THE WAY quarters is like that in no other city, being free and open to public gaze. All the duties of the household are performed in the street. ROME: 'TpHE first thing to learn in Rome is the "■- pronunciation of the name of the street and the number of your pension^ in order that you may be able to get home. Our pronunciation is set-tahn-tah dew-ey vee-ah sis-teen-ah, and the manner with which we hop into a cab and say it to the cocchiere stamps us as old Italians. Our home here is at the top of the Scala di Spagna (Spanish steps), right in the heart of the new town. We walk down the steps every morning as we start out to the American Express office to get our letters, but we come up the "lift" — for t&n centimes. w w w 4r w ^ It is absolutely necessary to be driven about Rome accompanied by a guide, whether one's stay is to be of long or short duration. In no other manner can one comprehensively grasp this vast array of ancient and modern art, nor the colossal expanse of architecture, both standing and 60 ^ ' "»i^ ^ ^gW^4»j^^j!«i ! g^iWW^^a ■^ STREET SCENE, NAPLES ITALY in ruins. After having been shown the important places, it is well to return alone, and at leisure ponder over those things which most appeal to the heart as well as to the senses. 45- * -X- * * * I have had a careful explanation of the significance of that much-used word — "basilica." Originally it was a portico separated from some public building, not unlike the peristyle at our Columbian Ex- position, save that it need not, of necessity, be near any body of water; in fad:, it rarely was in the old Roman days. The basilicas of the old forums were really walks under cover. In later days these porticos were inclosed and made into churches. The name "basilica" still clung to them, and now the oblong space forming the main body between the pillars in any church edifice, without regard to the style of architedure, is so called. * * * * * * I have read somewhere, in the reveries of a bachelor (not Ik Marvel's), that "style is born IN a woman and ON a man." I wonder how he knew — perhaps he had been in Rome. The style of the greater number of 6i BY THE WAY foreign tourists of the female persuasion must be "in," as there is little visible to the naked eye. But the style of these Italian soldiers is " on," indeed, and they are on dress parade the livelong day. I have used all my superlatives, but really in no city on earth does one see such glori- ously, exquisitely dressed little men as are the soldiers of Italy, and especially of Rome. The Bersaglieri form the elite corps, and wear a large round hat, with a multitude of cock's plumes, tipped far on one side of the head. This tribute to the swagger appearance of the soldiers is also applicable to the young priests, monks and students, and even to the butlers and footmen. w w w WW. "W On a fete day we went to St. Peter's, and were repaid by meeting our Portu- guese friends, who took us to drive through the beautiful parks and grounds of the Villa Borghese, returning to luncheon with us at OMY pension. This home of ours is a very attractive place, but it tries my patience to be forced to go through a ten-course dinner each night, when I am anxious to get out. The words "change" and "haste" are unknown here, and it is only endurable 62 ITALY because the dinner is so exquisitely pre- pared and served. We have some interesting and clever people at our table — a family from Bos- ton, two girls from Washington, a brother and sister from Philadelphia, who have lived here for years, and a beautiful Cana- dian. The last named sits next me, and our sotto voce conversations have brought out the fa6l that her heart is full of love for all things. She is Canadian only by birth, and among the array of smartly dressed Americans in t\iQ pension, she leads. I do not wish to be put on record as one who judges a woman solely by her clothes; but oh, the American woman here is incomparable. I agree with Lillian Bell, that the women of no other race can compare with her in dress, or taste, or carriage. She is bewitching! She is a type 1 I believe I once told you that we had no type. I take it back. We have, and so glorious a one that I am proud to claim kinship with her. •H- -X- * ^ 45- * You will be shocked, I am sure, when I tell you that I do not agree with Mr. Howells, nor yet with my beloved Haw- thorne, for I love modern Rome. To be 63 BY THE WAY sure, Hawthorne wrote of Rome in 1858, and Mr. Howells in 1864, and it may be the shops were not so altogether enticing in those early days, or it may be because they were not women that the shops had no charm for them ; but if they had known Castellani, the goldsmith on the Piazzi di Trevi, who executes designs from the old Grecian, Etruscan and Byzantine models, or Roccheggiani's exquisite mosaics and cameo carvings, it is probable their opin- ions would be modified. W w w W W w Michelangelo's "Moses'' is not in the big St. Peter's of the Vatican, but in St. Peter's of Vincoli. This was a surprise to me, for I had supposed to the contrary. I had asked many times, to no avail, why Michelangelo put horns on his " Moses," until a learned monk told me that, in an early translation of the Scriptures, the word "horns" was incorredtly given for "skin." Notwithstanding the dispropor- tion of its outlines, the gigantic statue is, to me, the most wonderful thing ever cut from a block of marble. w W W w 4t ^ We have an ascensor in our pension. The big concierge puts me in, locks the 64 ITALY door, unlocks the catch, and lets it go. When it gets to my floor it is supposed to stop, and in the same breath to have its door unfastened, and all I have to do is to walk out. Sometimes, however, it stops midway between floors, and then I wish I had walked up, I find Roman and Span- ish steps just as fatiguing to climb as any others, and patronize the ascensors with vigor. * * * * * * We went by appointment one day to the Rospigliosi Palazzo to return the visit of our Portuguese friends, Signor and Signora A., and were taken into another part of the palace to see Guido Reni's "Aurora." The pidure is painted on the ceiling, and there is an arrangement of mirrors by which one can view it without having to tire the neck with looking up so constantly. It is the greatest painting that has been done in the last two hundred years. In the evening we all went to hear "Gioconda" at the Teatro Adriano, The Italian audience seemed, by the uproarious applause that greeted each aria, to appre- ciate the music, but talked continually through it all. W 4t TV vT w w 65 BY THE WAY We have revisited many of the places which most interested us during our three days' drive with the cicerone^ and have whiled away many delightful mornings in the shops. We rest a little in the early part of each afternoon, and then, almost invariably, we drive on the Corso and to the Pincian Gardens, where the band plays from iiYQ until an hour after Ave Maria, Here one sees the smart Romans, and in fad: people of nearly every race on earth, in their best attire, on pleasure bent. It is needless to tell you that we take a carriage sans numero^ for the private parks of the best palazzos allow only carriages without numbers to enter. The scene on the Pincio is just what it was in Hawthorne's day. Read his descrip- tion of it in the " Italian Note Book," and you will see it more clearly than I can make you understand. It is a continual fete champetre. One day, while we were obliged to stop on account of a jam in the ring of carriages that move slowly round and round the circle where the band plays, Ruth stepped from the vehicle to get nearer the beautiful fountain of Moses to make a little sketch of it. I sat alone listening to the glorious 66 ITALY Italian band. And while my thoughts were thousands of miles away, and very near the one to whom this message goes first, some one spoke to me in French, and asked if I would have the goodness to go to his madame. It was the serving-man of our fellow-voyager, she of the same initials as my own. I looked in the direc- tion he indicated, and there, not ten car- riages back, she was, so hemmed in that it was impossible to drive alongside. As I left my seat and walked over to her, she met me with the radiant face and smiling greeting of an old friend. She is beautiful, with that inimitable something about her that attrad:s one, and I won- dered if I should ever know what her given name is. I knew for a certainty that I should never ask. She is not old, but gives one the impression that she has lived long enough to have "gathered the fruits of experience where once blossomed the flowers of youthful enthusiasm." * ^ * -Sfr "JS- * The bells foryfi;^' Maria had rung. The musicians were picking up their music. The Pincian Hill was deserted. Ruth sat alone in her carriage as this woman's hand grasped mine in reludant parting. 67 BY THE WAY " Good nightj" I said. "Goodnight!" You recall my telling you of Mrs. F. on the ship — she whom I met on the Pincian Hill — and her invalid son ? Well, he was not her son. He is her — husband. It will be no breach of confidence to tell you the story, for I have her permission — withholding her name, of course. It seems that the husband, in his youth, was rather "rapid*'; and, in a most idiotic will, the father left him a large fortune, provided that before his twenty-fifth year he had been married to a woman at least ten years his senior. It was stipulated that the woman was not to know the con- ditions of the will until after the mar- riage, so that she might be some one of worth and character, capable of caring for the money. No wonder it sobered the poor young man. He swore that he would never marry, and that those who were ready to grasp the fortune, should he fail to " keep the bond," might have it, and be — happy. One vacation time found him at the home of a classmate in one of the eastern college towns, where he met and fell in love with this woman whom I have described 68 ITALY to you. He had no idea she was older than himself until he had made her a pro- posal of marriage. She, of course, refused what she conceived to be a foolish boy's fancy. He sent for his mother, and to- gether they set themselves to win the lady of his choice, after the mother had " looked her up" — and down — as mothers of pre- cious boys are wont to do. In the meantime the young man was taken very ill, in his delirium calling for his love, who finally, at the physician's urgent request, went to him, and, with his mother, cared for him. It was the day before his twenty-fifth birthday. The mother was frantic at the thought that her son was to lose his for- tune. He cared little for the money, save that it would enable him to shower favors upon this love of his. He begged her to marry him that night to save him from some great trouble — if she ever regretted it for one moment she should be free — that he could not in honor tell her why it was so necessary that the marriage be sol- emnized at once. She had grown fond of him, yet naturally hesitated to do either him or herself injustice. Finally his help- lessness and his mother's agony proved 69 BY THE WAY too much for her, and just before the mid- night they were married at his bedside. Who can account for the vagaries of a woman's fancy ? The foolish conditions which she made a part by this contra6l were : that they should live abroad where they were not known, and that she should be known as his mother. His own mother, otherwise a strong, sensible woman, agreed to everything, so great was her anxiety about her son. In another week they had started for Europe, and I have accounted to you the strange manner in which their names ap- peared on the ship's register. It served as a safeguard against inquisitive people, and every one took it for granted that they were mother and son — and she a widow. Immediately they landed they met an old friend of hers, and thus began a series of explanations, for her friend knew she had no son. Fortunately this woman was a brave, true friend, and her advice was so heroic that the bride was speechless before such fearlessness. She said to her: "You must stop all this foolishness at once. There is absolutely no excuse for such deceit. One falsehood 70 ITALY paves the way for hundreds of others. It has already cost you the loss of your peace of mind and it is the cause of your hus- band's continued illness. How can you expert him to be strong, while living a lie?" This last statement was pretty hard to accept, but it proved that her liking for her young husband had grown into love," for her one desire was to see him well and strong. Her pride, however, stood in her way and she must have advice. Everything else the friend said was true, for already her day had become a hideous nightmare with this constant fear of meeting some one whom she knew. And this is why she sent her footman for me the day of the concert in the Pincian Gardens. She explained that she had heard Ruth and me discussing points in ontology on the ship, and wanted to ask me if what her friend said was true. She told me the story just as I have told it to you, not naming herself. I divined at once it was her own, but did not let her feel that I had perceived it, and for answer I said : " How I should love to meet that friend ! Most assuredly she is right. Falsehood 71 BY THE WAY and deceit bring nothing but suffering. Send word to that poor foolish woman at once that you too are opposed to her living a lie any longer." It was listening to this tale that made me forget the crowd, the perfume of the flowers, and even the exquisite music of the King's band. ^ ^ ¥r ^ ^ ¥f How glad I am that I saw dear old England first, for it seems very young when compared to Rome. Everything here is twenty centuries or more old, therefore you may imagine that, by comparison, things only a few hundred years old are yet in their infancy. Apropos of age, while at Oxford a stu- dent told us, with much solemnity, that Magdalen College "was built in 1490, be- fore you were discovered." The do6lor said, " Well, what of it ? " I was shocked at the good doctor, and was much im- pressed by the great age; but I understand the do6tor's sarcasm now, for he had re- cently returned from Rome. The "oldest church in Rome," how- ever, reminds one of "the favorite pupil of Liszt." I am meeting with them still. The most magnificent place in Rome, 72 ITALY after the Vatican, is the Villa Borghese ( bor-gay-zay ), not only on account of the beautiful park which contains numerous ornamental strudlures, little temples, ruins, fountains and statues, but also on account of the collection of antiques in its casino, or gallery. It is here that Canova's marble statue of Pauline Borghese is exhibited — to me the most beautiful marble in Rome. Here, too, is Titian's first great work, "Sacred and Profane Love." I fancy that Titian saw life from many view-points. ^ ^ 45" ^ "JS" ^ Imagine one going from the sublime to the ridiculous — from the gorgeous Bor- ghese Villa to a Rag Fair. A Rag Fair is an open-air sale of everything that can be thought of, from a garter clasp to a diadem. We went for old brass candlesticks of the seven-pronged, sacred variety, afterwards continuing on to St. Peter's, where we were repaid for mounting an incline of 1,332 feet up through the dome by the view of all Rome, the Vatican gardens and the tops of the " seven hills." * ^ * 45- * * Mrs. F. joins us often now. She went with us again Thursday to the church San Paola alle Tre Fontane ( St. Paul of 73 BY THE WAY the Three Fountains). It is kept by Trap- pist monks, a silent order. They never speak to each other, but make up for it when visitors come. We had a dear "brother" show us the objeds of interest, and he presented each with a wee drinking glass to measure out the Eucalyptus wine which they make there. The three fountains are flowing clear as crystal, and whether or not the head of St. Paul jumped three times on these spots, as tradition has it, it matters little; but the simple faith of the sweet-faced sisters who knelt and drank from each spring and arose freed from some claim was touching, and far from provoking the mirth that some people feel toward these devout pilgrims. En route home we stopped at the Eng- lish cemetery and plucked a flower from the graye of Keats and of Shelley and of Constance Fenimore Woolson. We saw Hilda's Tower, too, that day. I had occasion to thank Hawthorne for "The Marble Faun" and "Italian Note Book," otherwise I should not have been able to relate the story of Hilda and her tower. In truth, all Italy would have re- mained as a closed book to me had it not 74 PO -TJ << M O »» O > > 2 m H Sf i_j '•' I- > ^> 2 z t- :^ '^nn > > N w > H > > ITALY been for my three " H's," as Ruth calls them — Hawthorne, Howells and Hutton. The latter says, in his " Literary Land- marks of Rome," that the " Italian Note Book" is still the best guide to Rome that has ever been written, and that one should read it before coming, again while here, and yet once more after returning home. I shall say the same about the Land- marks, for without them much of the charm I have found here would have been lost. w W W W w W Yesterday we bade St. Peter's good-bye on our way to Sant' Onofrio. Here, again, a bright young fr^re showed us over the church made most interesting from its association with Tasso. There are some excellent paintings in the lunettes under the colonnade of the cloisters. It is a great pleasure to show Mrs. F. anything, as her appreciation is keen. She knew little of the literary landmarks which she passed each day, and I pointed out to her the house where Keats lived, on the left as one goes down the Spanish steps, the house of Shelley on the right, with the lodgings occupied by Byron almost diredtly opposite. IS BY THE WAY On our return from Sant* Onofrlo, she inquired of the coachman if the horses were fit, and upon his answering that they were good for several hours, she turned and in a low voice asked me to remain with her as long as possible. I understood. From a list of streets and numbers which I had with me, we selected such as we wished to visit. On the Via di Bocca di Leona we found the home of the Brownings ; close by, the house that sheltered Thackeray in Rome ; and not far away, the place where Adelaide Sartoris lived. In rapid succession, then, we made "little journeys" to the Italian homes of Louisa Alcott, Helen Hunt Jackson, George Eliot, and the house where Mrs. Jameson held Sunday soirees in a wee two-by-four room. Mr. Hutton and I did good work, for after all other sights had failed to interest, our (?) liter- ary landmarks succeeded in saving the day. ORVIETO : A FTER the rather strenuous day, the ac- -^^ count of which closed my last letter, we settled up our affairs in Rome, heard for the last time the Pope's angel choir, sent off our luggage, purchased our tickets, 76 ITALY with innumerable stop-overs, and, hardest of all, bade good-bye to our friends. Just before we were leaving, Mrs. F.'s footman brought to the door of our com- partment in the traveling-carriage an arm- ful of roses and a letter. The flowers brightened all the hot dusty day, but the letter — oh, that letter will brighten all the years that may come to me, and I have tucked the precious words away in the warmest corner of my heart, to be taken out on the rainy days of life, and fondled like some of childhood's memories. I did not see her again after she left me at the door that evening, nor had she spoken one word to indicate that she knew that I knew. She paid me the high- est tribute of friendship — silence. Among other things in the letter, she said : "The Catholic Church has not a mo- nopoly of 'ears that hear yet hear not, eyes that see and are blind,' for I find in you one who is built fine-grained enough not to mistake silence for stupidity, nor to consider the absence of an interrogation mark as lack of sympathy. The very evi- dent fad: that your beautiful companion knows nothing of my sorrow stamps you 77 BY THE WAY as a splendid friend, and I want you for such. * * * Your going has taken away my strongest staff. You have been bravely permitting me to lean on you, too hard I fear, these last days, but you understand, and, understanding, forget. " I should come to you in person to bid you good-speed, but I should break down and perhaps not be able to let you go, so I am sending instead this message. I have determined to be brave, to end this deceit, to go away from Rome; to begin aright in some other place; to live the truth.** I left the eternal city with a light and happy heart, for my new hearths sister (new if we count by that false estimate — time) is free. I still do not know what her given name is, as all her notes have been signed with her initials, and her sur- name does not resemble mine in the least. No wonder Mrs. Ward sent her weak- est heroine here to hide. If you ever lose me, and suspedt that I am in hiding, hunt for me in Orvieto. I had heard nothing of the place until I read "Eleanor," but now, if I were a guide-book, I'd put five asterisks before it and six in front of its cathedral. You will understand how I feel 78 ITALY about it when I tell you that most of the guide-books never use more than two stars to indicate the superlative. Loomis, in his wildest flights, sometimes uses three, so I think five would about fit my estima- tion of the Orvieto of today. The town is on the top of a mountain, up the almost perpendicular sides of which it is reached by a funicolare, SIENA, ITALIE — Signora Elvina Saccaro's, Pen- sion TOGNAZZI, VIA SaLLUTIO BaNDINI 1 9. T WISH I might live here, on this street -*- and in this pension, and have it all on my visiting-cards, and write it in my best style at the top of my letters. If it were engraved on my visiting-cards, and you should wish to come to see me, you would simply have to say to the cabman, ^^ See- nyee-o-rah — Al-vee-nyee-ah — Sah-chah- ro — Pen-see-yo — Tog-natz-zee — Vee-ah — Sal-lut-chio — Bahn-dee-nee — Dee-chee-ah- no-vay^^ but the entire address doesn't include the beautiful cloisters into which my windows open, for the place is an old monastery. The first I ever knew of Siena was from one of Lilian Whiting's books. She spoke of Symonds' history and Mrs. Butler's 79 BY THE WAY " Biography of Katherine of Siena/* and straightway I devoured them both. How little I thought then that I should walk the same streets and kneel at the same altar at which that saint knelt. I like her the best of all the saints " I have met/' for she loved to be alone and build castles. Siena is a rival of Rome and Florence in medieval art and archited:ure. The churches are wonderfully beautiful, and filled with the choicest works of ancient and modern artists. The marble pave- ment and the carved white marble pulpit in the cathedral cannot be equaled. FLORENCE: ^T^HREE weeks in the art center of the -^ world and not one letter written ! The note-book, however, is getting so fat that it begs to be put on paper and sent away to you. My bank account is correspond- ingly lean, made so partly by the purchase of pretty carte-postales which carry the telegraphic messages across the sea, just to show that Fm thinking and that a letter is coming some fine day. \^ mj porte-monnaieYJ^TQ, not so tr'es mai- grCy Fd buy many copies of Howell's "Tus- can Cities," Hutton's "Literary Land- 80 ITALY marks of Florence," Ruskin's " Mornings in Florence/* Mrs. 01iphant*s " Makers of Florence," and Mrs. Browning^s " The Casa Guidi Windows," and send to each of you with this inscription : " These are my sentiments." It was with a sense of lazy delight that we wandered about Siena, watching the peasant women in their picturesque head coverings, inhaling the atmosphere of me- diaeval art and the restfulness that comes with it. In the same leisurely manner, armed with numerous Leghorn straws, we turned our faces northward, and found pleasant rooms awaiting us here. Our windows look out on the Arno, and to the right I see the Ponte Vecchio; to the left, a bella vista which ends at Fiesole. The new Florence is broad and white and glistening; the old is narrow, dark and massively rich. The Arno, like the Tiber, is a yellowish green. Its eight bridges are unique, ancient and historic. The Lungarno, down which we walk each morning, is odd and fascinating. It has on the Arno side a marble balustrade ; on the other, little shops displaying jewels 8i BY THE WAY and precious stones which would tempt the soul of a female angel Gabriel. The display of turquoise, of which stone Flor- ence is the home, is ravishing, yet some- times — once, I think — we really went by without entering. The day we did not go in, however, we went by appointment to one of the shops on the Tornabuoni, where were arrayed some gorgeous ancient chains and rings of scarabs, the cartouch of which proved them to belong to some Egyptian potentate. The Piazza della Signoria forms the center of Florence. It is surrounded by the Palazzo Vecchio, the Uffizi, and the Loggia dei Lanzi. In the center is the fountain of Neptune. It was in this piazza that Savonarola was burned. In the buildings just named, each a mas- terpiece of architectural beauty, are found many of the chefs-d^ceuvre of the world. Florence overflows with so much that is ornate, it was difficult to make seled:ions. Like poor Helen — ** Were the whole world mine, Florence being bated, I'd give it all to be to her translated.'* Sometimes I think if I could have but one of these gems of architecture, I*d 82 ITALY choose the Duomo, with its graceful fa9ade and its campanile; but when I cross the street to the Baptistery of San Giovanni, and gaze at its bronze doors, I change my mind, and give it first place. Now it is Santa Croce, with its wondrous wealth of marbles, where Ruskin — and I — spent many happy hours; but soon Santa Maria Novella has outshone them all, until the loveliness of the Medicean Chapel wins my heart anew. Alas, so weak am I, that all the cathe- drals sink into obscurity when the Uffizi Palazzo, with its Tribune, is seen. It holds the one perfe6t woman — the Uffizi Venus. The Pitti Palace and the Boboli Gardens ; the Bargello, with its unique staircase and court; the Riccardi — in truth, all the wealth of incomparable grandeur of artistic Florence have their places in my affedtions. The wealth, beauty and royalty of Flor- ence are seen on the fashionable driveway. The Cascine is to Florence what the Pincio is to Rome. There, in the late afternoon, society drives back and forth along the bank of the Arno, listening to the music of a military band. W w W W W* ^ It is of little consequence how the artist 83 BY THE WAY gives expression to his dream — whether by pencil, pen, brush, chisel or voice, in marble, painting, song or story — Florence is the home of them all. And Fiesole, ah, Fiesole by moonlight 1 I have walked up the Fiesolian Hill, and taken the little eledric tram, but last night I took you with me in a carriage. The others did not know you were there, so you and I "cuddled down" on the back seat. You held my hand and said never a word, but by that same blessed silence I knew you were drinking in the beauty of it all. As the strong horses pulled up the mountainside, you and I looked back at Florence. She lay off in the distant shad- ows, with the Arno at her feet — the Arno, no longer a yellow, muddy stream, but a glistening, silvery ribbon, with the moon- beams dancing merrily on its phantom- like bridges. The towers and turrets were transformed into marble lace; the statues to golden cupids; the chimney-tops formed bas-reliefs ; and the whole, a misty shadow- pidture. Even Florence was improved by the witchery of " that old man in the moon." The silvery unrealness of it cast a spell over us, making — 84 STAIRWAY BARGEI.LO PALACE, FLORENCE. ITALY * * * The longing heart yearn for Some one to love, and to be Beloved of some one. That's why I took you with me. When the top was reached we looked only at the fairyland in the distance. It is difficult to ideaUze an ordinary little vil- lage, even if it be Tuscan, and this one has nothing to recommend it but a cathe- dral and some pidluresque beggars. Returning another way, we passed Boc- caccio's villa, and in fancy saw his merry party of lords and ladies seated in the arbors looking out toward La Bella Fi- renza over the now golden River Arno. Thus it was I left you in Florence. I could not find you when Ruth called out, " Are you going back with the cab, honey ? " VENICE: Tf Florence was left behind in a memory -*- of purple mist, the highroad between it and Bologna would awaken the most poetic. The word "highroad" is a little creation of my own in this connexion, but I feel sure you will believe it to be " high " when I tell you that Florence lies at the foot of the Apennines and Bologna at the summit ; and that the railway is, by some 85 BY THE WAY miracle of engineering, built up through and around these mountains. We threaded forty-five tunnels, swung around number- less viadudls, crawled over heart-stilling trestleworks connecting one peak with an- other, and finally came out on top, much dirty and more tired. We arrived in Venice at I2 o'clock, midnight, at the full of the moon. It can- not be compared with my Florentine dream, for while they are both exquisitely lovely, they are different. There is nothing on earth quite like Venice by moonlight. All things lose perspective at close range, or in the glare of the sun's rays, and Ven- ice shares this disenchantment. It matters little what or how much one has read of Venice — to realize its charm, its color scheme and its uniqueness it must be ex- perienced. For Venice is not a thing, it is an experience. We owned a gondola, — for a week. We lived in it, and I, sometimes, slept in it while we were being wafted from one place to another. There is the usual — oh, no! there is nothing usual in Venice — cathedral, as in all cities, but St. Mark's stands out first and forever as The Church of all churches. 86 < O H w > a > o ITALY My first glimpse of this pile of precious stones was unexpedled and most dramatic to me. There were no letters that morning, and I was just walking — I did not care where or on what. What's beauty and loveliness compared to One letter ? An arcade blocked the way, and not knowing — not caring — where it led, I passed in and through it. Chancing to look up, I found myself in the light of day, and straight before me, ablaze with the sunlight full on its fa9ade, was a strud:ure of lavish Oriental magnifi- cence. "What is that?" I cried aloud. "San Marco!" answered a number of soft, musical voices in unison; and there stood by my side a little crowd of Italians, their dark eyes sparkling and white teeth showing, evidently pleased at my adoration. " San M-ahr-co, San M-ahr-co ! " they drawled in delight. For once their pleas- ure was real ; they did not break the spell upon me by holding out the hand for a pourboire, St. Mark's is Moorish in design, and has a coloring both gorgeous and subdued. The richness of jewels and costly stones does not seem out of place here as in many 87 BY THE WAY Roman churches. Nothing could be too precious, too sumptuous, too rare, for this temple magnificent. The piazza of St. Mark's is a square paved with trachyte and marble. It has the church on one side, and on the other sides, old white marble palaces, in the arcades of which are now found shops of world-wide renown. The piazzetta leads one, between the Doge's palace and Li- breria Vecchia, to the Grand Canal. Every evening a military band plays in the square, and it is like a vast, open-air drawing-room with a huge masquerade ball in full tilt. We climbed the Campanile and saw, be- sides a beautiful sunset, the Alps, the Adriatic, and in the dim distance the Is- trian Mountain rising out of the sea. With but a day to give to Venice, or with a year at your disposal, there is only one thing to do — dream! Whether you rest in a gondola on the Lagune, drifting past the Bridge of Sighs, the Rialto, the Ghetto, or the Lido, listening to the gon- dolier calling out the names of the palaces as the boat glides by, or whether you stroll idly through the miles of churches and galleries containing the paintings, or sit in 88 ITALY wondering awe before the vast area of mosaics in St. Mark's — it matters little — dream ! In truth, one cannot well avoid it, amid the " subtle, variable, inexpressible color- ing of transparent alabaster, of polished Oriental marbles and of lusterless gold," as Ruskin puts it. AU BORD DU LAC COMO: TTEAVENS ! Just think of me writing -^ -^ " Como '* at the top of my letters ! I have pinched myself to see if I am really here. The unreality of it all recalls what Mr. Howells said after reading Ruskin: " Just after reading his description of St. Mark's, I, who had seen it every day for three years, began to doubt its existence." So I am beginning to doubt my own existence. The morning we left Venice I was nearly arrested by a man in a cocked hat, all on account of two other men in sailor hats. In short, I overstepped the etiquette of the gondolier most woefully. Our train left at the fetching hour of six, so I made an appointment with our trustworthy Pie- tro to come for us in time. I think I have told you that the word *^ haste" is an un- 89 BY THE WAY known quantity here, and when Pietro was not at the door ten minutes before the time to start, I had the clerk call another gondola. As we were about to step into the boat, Pietro was seen drifting idly toward our hotel. He wasn't very indolent when he saw what was going on, and those two "sun- sets " ( I think that is my own, for in a sunset, do you not see the day-go ? ) danced several kinds of jigs up and down and sidewise before me. Several others came to their assistance, among them the afore- said cocked-hatted individual. I told the clerk to tell them that I wished to conform to the rules, and to settle it their way. A summer breeze could not have been calmer than all became in the twinkling of an eye, but the cause of the calm was apparent when I settled the bill. Their understanding of "settling it their own way'* was to pay each of them, including the cocked-hat, but that was better than languishing in a dungeon for ever so little a time, nest-ce-pas, mon cher? Since then Milan has been visited- — Milan, with its mammoth marble cathe- dral, done in Irish-point pattern and with a papier-macM interior — but beautiful 90 ITALY withal. Several days were spent at Me- naggio on this lovely lake; another at Villa Carlotta, where Canova's original and divinely beautiful marble, " Cupid and Psyche/' stands in all its purity; many more, sailing up and down these enchant- ing waters, made green by the refledion of the forest on the mountains surrounding, and by the grounds of the wealthy Milan- ese, whose summer villas line its banks. Vineyards are scattered along the moun- tainside in terraces, and the brilliant green of the chestnut and walnut trees is blended with the dull grayish green of the olive and laurel. •St * * * * * Lake Lugano and Lake Maggiore are beautiful sheets of water, but they lack the romantic atmosphere of Como. I can re- call no other description so pleasing to the heart as well as to the fancy as the eulogy to these lakes in Mrs. Ward's " Lady Rose's Daughter." DOMODOSSOLA: RURAL Italy, to be appreciated, must be seen by tram, by boat, by steam, by old-fashioned diligence, and on foot. Its lakes and mountains, its valleys and vine- 91 BY THE WAY yards, have been a source of continual sur- prise to me, and it is with a feeling of keenest regret that our last place in Italy is reached. I feel with Browning as I say farewell to — "Italy, my Italy ! * * * * * Open my heart and you will icc Graven inside of it, 'Italy'.'* 92 SWITZERLAND Fair S'witzerlandy thou art my themcy Thy praise by day^ by night my dream. My sivelling heart ivith rapture speah; I lo've thy lakes and snoiv-capped peaks. Thy ivooded glens my thought recalls^ Thy mountain paths and luaterfalls. With praises I my -verse adorn Of Jungfrau and the Matter horn. Thy moon-lit nights and sun-lit days. For thee in songj my voice I raise. Thy name for right and freedom stand — / love thee^ dear old Sivitzerland. Roland Phelps Marks. A- LUCERNE: H, Kate ! dear old friend of my child- hood! How little I thought that night in June, when you stood up and told the audience, " Beyond the Alps lies Italy," that some day those same Alps would lie between us. We have not only been " be- yond," but over them. •H- 45- 45- -X- ^S- * The soft pink glow of the early dawn hung over the village of Domodossola as the start was made for Switzerland. Our caravan consisted of four diligences, two luggage vans, and a mounted guide, 93 BY THE WAY who knew every inch of the pass. He galloped from coach to coach, hurling his instrudions to occupants and drivers. Above the blowing of horns, the ringing of bells, and the answering shouts from the coaches, this guide's last command rang out loud and clear: " Keep close together! Follow me ! Come ! " It was all as uncertain as life itself. How blindly and with what enthusiasm we enter the race, knowing nothing of what the day may bring! The creaking diligences started away with their freight of human souls, to fol- low — follow to what? God only knows. Again, as in life — up and up, on and on, higher and higher — until the summit is reached at noon-day, and as the shadows lengthened in the waning of the day, we began the descent. That morning as the purple village was left behind, the road grew narrow and clung close to the mountainside. So close it was, did we but stretch the hand ever so little, we would touch its ruggedness. Sometimes the road widened into a moun- tain village, but ever and always on the other side was the deep, dark abyss. It varied in depth and blackness, or was 94 SWITZERLAND filled with some mountain torrent, but the gloorri was always there. The mountains themselves often smiled down on us, or laughed outright, as some sparkling, bubbling cascade could no longer keep within the channel time had worn for it in the rocky slope; yet the same rippling waterfall that had danced right merrily down from its snowy source, be- came stern and cruel after it had crossed the road under us and joined the somber- ness of the cavern. If the glare of the sun partially dispelled the glamour the moon had cast over Ven- ice, how vastly more does close proximity to the Alpine village of song and story dissipate its charm. As every gleam of sunshine must cast a shadow somewhere, so the splendor of the Alps must needs be balanced by the materiality of its in- habitants. Of the forty miles from Domodossola, Italy, to Brigue, Switzerland, the first ten perhaps are inhabited. These people live on the road, their huts snuggling close to the mountain. The little patches of ground that are tilled lie straight up the moun- tainside, and upon these sides, too, their sheep graze. One of the witcheries of the 95 BY THE WAY region is the tinkling of the tiny bells tied around the necks of the sheep. Before reaching Iselle, where the Cus- toms are paid, the longest of the Simplon tunnels is passed through, and a block of granite marks the boundary line between the two countries. Along the route the drivers had often to call out, that the women and children might make way for the coaches. The chil- dren, offering fruit or flowers, would run along with the vehicles and call out the little English that had been picked up: "Good-a-byel" "Kiss-a-mel" "Hur-rah- up 1 '* But the smiles soon turned to tears if no pennies were thrown to them. Sometimes in the distance there seemed to be a mammoth pile of rock or debris obstru(5ling the roadway, which, on being approached, was found to be part of an avalanche tunneled out for the passageway. These are termed "galleries" to distinguish them from the usual tunnels. Away up on a high point is an old hospice which can be reached only by pe- destrians, — a refuge for the mountain climbers. Far up among the clouds is a bridge resembling a tiny toy. Long hours after- 96 SWITZERLAND wards, when the summit of the peak is reached, and when the road seems to end abruptly, the bridge comes into view again spanning some yawning gulf. Once while crossing from one peak to another, the gorge below seemed filled with white smoke. It was the clouds. Some thousands of feet below, these same clouds had been above us — we were now above them. The sensation was awful. *' Look ! Look!" cried the guide, pointing down into the moraine. The clouds had sepa- rated, and the rain could be seen pouring on a little village far below, while the sun shone bright on us. The sunshine is not warm among these snow-clad peaks. It was bitterly cold. The crunching of the snow under the iron hoofs of the horses was the only sound to be heard. At the village of Simplon where lunch- eon was served, and where the horses were changed, the luggage vans were raided for warm wraps and rugs. Half a mile from the village of Simplon the remains of a big avalanche were en- countered. Men were at work clearing the roadway, and the guide ordered every 97 BY THE WAY one to dismount and walk across, the drivers leading the horses. When " the road grew wider," it should not make a mental pidlure of a broad roadway. It is wide only in comparison with the narrow mountain pass, cut out of the side of the cliff, making a sort of ridge of sufficient width to permit but one vehi- cle at a time. There are places cut deeper into the rock so that two may pass. A stone parapet runs along the ledge next to the precipice to prevent accidents should the wheels come too near the edge. At the highest point this parapet was broken. The workmen who were repair- ing the wall had been called to assist in clearing the lower road of the avalanche over which we had been obliged to walk. It was at this point that one of our horses balked. The road, so narrow that it scarcely permitted the passage of the diligence, — the parapet entirely gone for a distance of many feet — the gorge, deep and black, with a roaring torrent, too far down to be seen — the very heavens weep- ing at our misery, — here it was the horse chose to become unmanageable. The two in the box seat behind the driver did not realize what was happening 98 SWITZERLAND until a shriek from some one in the body of the coach caused the entire party to turn. The driver yelled, " Jump ! Jump toward the mountainside!" God grant that rarely on human sight may dawn such a scene, horrible only to those who had occupied the coach a second before. The back wheels were over that fearful ledge, the diligence just tottering. One moment more, made heavy by its human load, one quiver of the now terri- fied beasts, and the whole would have been engulfed in the depths of that seething torrent. We had jumped at the first word of command — jumped as one body. One second and it would have been too late. And the old coach, relieved of its burden, had balanced itself in an almost human manner, as if it, too, clung to life. We stood crouching away from the gorge against the wet side of the rock, the driver unnerved, one horse unruly and the leader balky. The entire cavalcade had begun the descent, and there was no stop- ping when once under way until a valley was reached some seven miles below. There was nothing to do but wait, and pray that the guide would miss us and send help. 99 BY THE WAY The awesomeness of that scene had time to imprint itself on my very soul, for the hours spent on that Alpine peak I count as the most stirring years of my life. Help came, or I should not be writing this. But, grateful and overjoyed as we were to see a fresh horse and two men on its back coming to our aid, the result was even more terrifying than the past experi- ence. The guide had missed us when, as was his wont, at the first stop, he galloped back from coach to coach. Fortunately it was near a hospice, where he procured two men and a powerful horse, and sent them after us. Surely God had — '* One arm 'round thee. And one 'round me. To keep us near." The driver and his helper had hardly dismounted from the back of the new horse when the wild creature reared around, and started on a mad gallop down the slope. He tripped, thank heavens, on a strap that had become loosened from his trap- pings, and was caught. That the new driver was a fiend was apparent from the cruel manner in which I oo SWITZERLAND he treated the runaway. I am still uncer- tain what his excuse was for living. He was so hideous he was unique. After he had pounded the horses he turned his attention to the passengers. Ruth and I were ordered out of the box seat into the coach. It was impossible to crowd us all inside, and he was obliged to submit to our remaining above. The hood was closed, the boot drawn up, and we were strapped securely to our seats. The doors were locked on those inside. These were his instructions from the guide. The three drivers mounted in front of us, and, while we were thankful to be in the open air and to be able to view the wonderful scenery around us, we were also compelled to witness the inhuman treat- ment of the animals. In this manner we began the descent. The fiend had the reins and the long whip, the others had prods, and used them on the horses. The fresh horse took the lead, dragging the others after him. On, and on, and on we flew, now under wild- roaring cataradls, whose waters thundered down on the rocky roof of the tunnels under them — now over frail bridges, which trembled with our speed — now down slip- lOI BY THE WAY pery, ice-covered stretches. They did not stop at the first plateau, fearing, I suppose, they would never get the horses started again. The fiendish shouts of the drivers, the cries of the occupants locked inside the coach, the swaying and groaning of the old diligence, and the almost human moans of the horses blended with the warning cries of the natives, who stood aside, aghast at our mad speed. Down, down, down ! The white peaks grow fainter and fainter, until they are lost in the blue mist. The incline becomes less steep. The little farms look like window- panes set up in air, and the sun sinks be- hind the purple mountains. The beautiful valley of the Rhone spreads out below, like a celestial vision. Suddenly, after a long curve has been rounded, the Rhone, bathed in a flood of golden fire, comes into view. Across the yawning gulf the mountains, on the other side, take on the same glorious hue. It is the Alpine glow! Yet on and down we go, never stopping the wild pace until the horses dash into the courtyard of the inn at Brigue ! We had crossed the Alps ! I02 SWITZERLAND We were in Switzerland ! W w w tVT vP w Switzerland is one of the places whose charm is enhanced by the glare of the sun. But Switzerland does not have many op- portunities to endure glare of anything, for it rains almost continually. The "weeping skies of Ireland" cannot compare with it. Lake Geneva, as it winds around Lau- sanne, is extremely pretty, and Lake Lu- cerne has quite the most pid:uresque surroundings possible. It nestles down among the Alps, with Rigi on one side and the beautiful town on the other. And Lucerne is a beautiful town, built in a curve in the Alps, with towers and battle- ments on its walls. Sailing away from it, it presents a pidlure altogether different from anything else I have seen. It took some days for me to recover from that mad ride down the mountains. After the effedis of it had passed, I could but think how very near the ludicrous is the sublime. Death by climbing up or falling down these Alpine heights would be, perhaps, romantic; but to be backed over a preci- pice by a common balky horse could not be otherwise than ignominious. 103 BY THE WAY Now, too, I recall some of those sense- less questions women ask. One woman cried, " Oh, where will we go if that har- ness breaks ? " " We will go right on from the heights to which our thoughts have risen," an- swered a beautiful voice from within the diligence. It was Mrs. F.'s friend, she who had first told her how foolish it was to live a lie. Now I know why the old coach had kept up. 104 HOLLAND AND BELGIUM Holland and Belgium Are countries quite funny ^ Their Art is a joy, But a bete noire their money. AMSTERDAM : T HAVE acSlually found some places that I -*■ do not like, and it is well, for I have used up all my adjedlives and exclama- tions. I did not care for Zurich, and many of the Rhine towns found no favor in my eyes. I saw most of them only from the river about which we have heard so much that, naturally, it failed in the realization of my anticipations, — besides, it rained much of the time. I overheard a conversation between two American girls on the boat up- — or down — the Rhine. Every time I say "up" the other person says, " Down, was n't it?" and when I change it to " down," I am asked, " Up, was n*t it ? " The first girl was saying, in a strenuous manner, "I saw EVERYchurch in Rome! " BY THE WAY Ah, indeed ! How long a time did you spend in Rome ? You know, do you not, that there are over four hundred churches there ? " sarcastically asked the other. " Four hundred ! " shouted the first girl, never noticing the sarcasm, " four hundred ! ril bet I tramped through a thousand!'* I can sympathize with that first girl. The cathedral at Cologne is very fine. It is built in two distind: styles of archi- tecture. The legend runs that the first archited: sold his soul to the devil for plans unlike any other church in the world. When he had it half finished he disap- peared, and the plans with him. I suppose he and the devil became too well acquainted with each other, and per- haps he ran in to see him every day — which is enough to tire even the devil him- self — so he put the architedt out of the way. Be that the case or not, the church was commenced in 1248, and finished only recently in a modern fashion. ^ ^ 45" % w w What a difference it makes to have a friend residing in a foreign city ! I posted a letter to Marie from Cologne, and as I was breakfasting the morning of my ar- rival here her visiting-card was brought to 106 HOLLAND AND BELGIUM me. She has made our stay in this quaint city a bright green spot in the oasis of hotel life and hustling for oneself. She has driven us over this picturesque old town and taken us to the palaces, and to the Royal Rijks Museum. We have walked with her through her favorite haunts in the parks. She has made a mar- tyr of herself and shown us through the shops, — and have you ever heard of the lovely shops of Amsterdam ? But, best of all, we have had a bit of home life, and Marie, bless her heart! has given us the first cup of real coffee we have had since we left home. w w w W w w I cannot tell you much in detail about the splendid school of art here, for — let me whisper it to you — I did not get a guide-book of Holland. Marie and her good husband left little for us to glean. But this I do know, that, in all our travels, no more comprehensive and beautiful col- lediion of art treasures have we found. The building itself is magnificent, and the masterpieces are all Flemish. Rubens' "Helena Fourment,*' Rembrandt's "The Night Watch," and a portrait by Van Dyke are among those which I recall. 107 BY THE WAY Holland is a quaintly pi(5hiresque coun- try. Everything that Mr. F. Hopkinson Smith, that exquisite word-etcher as well as painter, has said of it is true. But the language ! And the money ! Oh, the money is impossible. Now, I call Ruth a brilliant woman, and one vastly above the average intelled- ually; and you know that, while I'm not an expert accountant, I can do " sums " once in a while. Well, neither of us has learned to pronounce, nor do we yet know, the value of the thing which takes the place oi th.Q franc. It is spelled g-u-l-d~e-n — most Americans call it gilder^ but it is no more like that than it is like "horse." In fad:, it is not unlike the last word, when a native gets his tongue around it. As to its value ! I have taken goods for it to the value of a penny and of a half- dollar. I simply take the change given me and go. The other, like Thoreau's friend, has both the first word and the last. How awful ! A woman can never talk back in this language. BRUSSELS : T7LBERT Hubbard tells, in one of his '■-' " Little Journeys,'' how, when his ship io8 HOLLAND AND BELGIUM landed in Antwerp at eleven o'clock in the morning, he walked to the hotel and awak- ened the landlord from his early morning nap in order to get some breakfast. I can- not speak from experience as to what hour they arise, but I do know, from very close association with the people, that they do not know what sort of money they use. At the door of the cathedral, where we went to see Rubens* chef-d'ceuvre, "The Descent from the Cross," the woman at the door refused to take one of those coins of which I do not know the value; but when I tried a Httle dramatic adion, and turned to go, she took it very readily, and permitted us to enter. The same scene was enac5led at the door of the really ex- quisite museum; but it did not work at the station. We were using all our Belgian coins be- fore going into France, and had saved enough for the porters at the station where we had left our hand luggage. The porter who brought our luggage from the train into the station had accepted the coin we gave him. The one we secured to carry them out to the train had reached our compartment, and demanded his money. I counted out the coins. He refused 109 BY THE WAY them. We had no other money. I ten- dered him a book, and finally my watch. He still refused, and would not permit us to put the things in the compartment. There was no woman in sight, and foreign men are so different from our countrymen that we could not bring ourselves to ask aid from them ; besides, we did not speak Flemish. It was absolutely necessary for us to reach Brussels that night, and had we gone back to get the money changed, it would have necessitated our remaining over Sun- day in Antwerp, where we had exhausted everything of interest. We were becoming desperate, when good fortune smiled on us in the form of a pair of girlish black eyes. I asked her if she spoke English. She shook her head. ^^ Parlez vous FrarK^aisV^ and, oh, joy, ^^Mais un peu,'' she replied. I made known our dilemma, and she very sweetly settled with the fa^leur for about half the amount he had demanded of me. Who shall say there is not a free ma- sonry among women ? There, in a strange country, with not a cent of that country's coinage in my pocket, knowing no word I lo HOLLAND AND BELGIUM of its language, came to my assistance a woman of yet another country, speaking nor understanding no word of my mother tongue, and, in yet another language, which we both spoke indifferently, I asked and she gave aid with that same grave polite- ness which marks the noblesse oblige every- where. The next morning, dressed in our brav- est, we had the concierge call the shiniest cab he could find, with the tallest-hatted cocher, and with the loveliest basket of roses that could be procured, we drove in state to the address she had given us. We had a cordial greeting, but somehow I fancy she had been in doubt as to whether or not she would ever see those ^t^ francs again. You may rest assured that we have had sufficient money changed here, and that we have found numerous ways in which to spend it. Next to Venice, the lace shops are the finest in the world. Ill Part II. The sea ! the sea ! the open sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ever-free ! Without a marky without a bound. It runneth the earth 'j- wide regions round ; It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies. Or like a cradled creature lies. I never was on the dull, tame shore. But I loved the great sea more and more ; And backward few to her billowy breast. Like a bird that seeketh its mother"* s nest. Barry Cornwall. GREECE ComCf come ivith me to the Isles of Greece^ And on o'er the seas to its golden shore ^ Pause not till you reach Athenians croivn^ Then mount to its heaven-domed Parthenon. Its glories ivill feed your musing hourSy When fame has dioindled to cheap renown. Tt is a far cry from the Bowery to the -■' Bosporus, but only a few obstacles, such as the Atlantic, the Mediterranean, the Adriatic and the Sea of Marmora, inter- vene. We had overcome two of these so that it was from Brindisi, Italy, the end of the Appian Way, that we embarked for Greece. I expeded to find tall, willowy maidens in Grecian draperies standing on the banks of Corfu waving golden lyres to welcome me to these fair Ionian Islands, with mighty warriors back of them proclaiming of their ancestors; instead, I found a pretty little island covered with blossoms, in the midst of which is the magnificent Villa Achilleion ereded for Empress Elizabeth of Austria. One would never dream that the lazy sailors found along the shores of this hilly "5 BY THE WAY isle were descendants of those old Greeks who fought the first naval battle 2600 years ago, off its coast. One must be a good pedestrianj for even with the excellent roads it is necessary to climb on foot to the lookout if one would have a survey of the island and its sur- roundings. I reached it just in time to see the sun sink, all gold and orange, into the green liquid of the Adriatic. If Corfu gives one a flowery welcome to the Isles of Greece, the mainland keeps up the cordiality. Patras, its first port, a dig- nified, progressive little city, was not be- hind its island sister in greeting us. Its historic neighbor, Olympia, is reached by a bridle path, and the two days* journey will give one a better insight into the man- ners and customs of the ancient Greeks than months spent in a modern city. Many of the inhabitants along this path have never visited their nearest village. The road between Patras and Athens — my heart throbs now at the mere writing of the name "Athens," just as it did when I first took my seat in the train for that classic city — is different from any- thing else on earth, for almost all the way to the ship canal which crosses the Isth- 116 tr' m ^ fd '^ (^ m >^ 'i ^gSoscS O O 13 GREECE mus of Corinth the mountainsides are strewn with currants, drying in the sun on beds of white pebbles. All the dried cur- rants, originally called "grape of Corinth/' come from this part of the Levant. ATHENS : Full many a bard of thy strong walls has sung. Full many a hand has sketched thy fair outline; But none can sing nor paint all that thou art. To earnest, loving, simple hearts like mine. T FEEL now as though the scratching of -*• my pen were sacrilege, just as I first tread softly on this sacred soil and would start when I heard some one laugh aloud. I cannot tell you of the deep impression Athens has^made upon me. If you were here where I could touch your hand and, without one word being spoken, we could stand and drink in all its grandeur, or sit in silence by moonlight watching the shadows come and go, you would understand — but to put Athens in cold black and white, ah, never ask me to try. The new Athens, like Florence, is broad and white, but not glistening. The old Athens — my Athens — lies yonder on the hill, a mass of monstrous rocks, gigantic 117 BY THE WAY pillars and huge squares of stone which some mighty tempest or some avalanche seems to have scattered hither and yon. It was by the light of the moon that the vastness of the Acropolis impressed itself upon me, though the immensity of purpose — the Herculean obstacles sur- mounted — rather than its ponderous pro- portions, creates its magnitude. But it was just as the day was dawning that its love- liness appeared to me. I have been to the Acropolis with a registered cicerone who knew every stone of it, and again with a fine young Greek who loved every atom of it, but today at dawn I stood there alone and watched the sun come up seemingly from beneath my feet. No sound broke the stillness. All nature was hushed that I might bid my beloved Athens farewell. There she lay outspread before me, bathed in the first faint glow of the early dawn. Far down is the Porte Beule and the marble staircase from it to the Propylaea, one of whose courts leads to that diminutive jewel, the Temple of Nike, with its Pentelic marble grown yellow with age. Before the sun had climbed above the mountain, I watched the purple marble of ii8 THE ACROPOLIS AS IT WAS THE ACROPOLIS AS IT IS THE TEMPLE OF THESEUS IN FOREGROUND GREECE the Erechtheion turn to gold, giving a rosy glow of youth to the Maidens of the Caryatides portico who have held up their canopy for two thousand years. Always before the eye, tall and commanding, in all its perfedlion, stands the Parthenon. Off yonder is Mars Hill, and far beyond, the Temple of Theseus, its weather-stained, golden-hued marbles, that have braved the storms of centuries, exhaling a vigorous vitality. As the sun climbed over the hilltop my heart grew heavy at the thought of part- ing with Athens. In a few hours I would be leaving her, perhaps forever. But Ath- ens — Athens over whom I wept — slept on. * * 45- * * * I came back to earth and went to Pi- raeus in a very " earthy " eledlric tram — think of desecrating Athens with a trolley 1 119 TURKEY The cloud-capp' d toivers^ The gorgeous palaces^ The solemn temples. Shaksperje^ The Tempest^ Act IV, Scene I, Line 153. CONSTANTINOPLE: DURING the early hours of yesterday morning we reached Smyrna, one of the seven cities spoken of in the Book of Revelation, and we spent the day in its odd, underground bazaars. Wildness, mad- ness and fiendishness have lost their ter- rors for me since landing at Smyrna. Imagine all the wild animals of the zoo put together in one cage and all roaring at the same time and you will have some idea of the sound that greeted my ears as our ship dropped anchor. Then look over the rail and, as far as the eye can see, pic- ture rowboats by the hundreds, so thickly crammed together that scarcely a bit of the water can be seen. Watch the oars- man pushing another boat or beating his brother boatman over the head with his oar, each of them yelling at the top of his 120 on ' ^ 2 i « 5 2 TURKEY voice, and you will have a dim outline of what really happened. All had the same obje6t in view — that of getting as many passengers as they could carry, and as soon as possible. Our dragoman turned us over to a Turkish guide who proved to be a scholar and a Christian. The bazaars are filthy, but the filth simply serves to make prominent by con- trast the beautiful embroideries and laces displayed there. If one dares to give more than a passing glance at any of these, the old Turks will follow trying to force a purchase. To think that Homer should have chosen Smyrna for his birthplace ! Yet it was and still is the most important city of Asia Minor, and is pidhiresquely situated on the iEgean Sea. When we finally reached the ship, after the oarsmen's battles en route during which I had sat still with my eyes closed think- ing hard, our Christian Turk came up to me, and, to my surprise and delight, whis- pered: "We know why we are safe, do we not?" I wonder if he understood that the tears in my eyes were not from fear? 121 BY THE WAY The same scene of the boatman was ena6led at the Dardenelles. Later, how^ ever, all the harsh things were forgotten, as over a foreground of blue sea the dim outline of a city was seen through the mist of the morning. No one can call Constantinople beauti- ful, but all must admit that it is the most interesting city in Europe. Unique in be- ing situated in both Europe and Asia, the city is divided, like Gaul, into three parts -^ Stamboul and Galata-Pera, separated from each other by the Golden Horn, in Europe, and Skutari across the Bosporus, in Asia. Galata is the modern business sedlion containing the banks, steamship offices, commission houses and the like, while Pera is on the heights above it with the hotels, the embassies and the homes of the foreigners. Stamboul, or Constantinople proper, is situated on seven hills, on one of which stood the ancient city of Byzantium. Here are the old seraglio and Santa Sophia, — Santa Sophia, with its altars of gold, mo- saics of precious stones, pillars of rare marble, its wonderful history and its an- tiquity. Between the mountain and the sea, in 122 TURKEY Skutari, nestles the cluster of buildings occupied by the American College for girls, the only college for women in the western Levant, When you learn through what vicissitudes I achieved my entree to this cosmopolitan hole^ you will wonder that I write of it with any degree of composure, or that I am here to write of it at all. Everything seemed so perfectly planned for a comfortable and safe little journey from the hotel in Pera to Skutari, that I followed the attendant without question. He placed me in a caique ( ki-eek) putting me in charge of the caiquejee (ki-eek-gee), saying that in a few moments this man would land me at the place where my American friend was in waiting on the other side. A caique is a long narrow skiff with cushions in the bottom upon which one must sit quietly else the boat will tip. My caiquejee and his assistant seemed very mild sort of Turks, for they would nod and smile when I waved my hand at something odd or interesting. I was not versed then in the etiquette of the caiquejee, nor yet in the mysteries of their thousand and one superstitions, but I found, to my sorrow, that to touch 123 BY THE WAY even the hem of another caiquejee's oar was the signal for ordering guns or any other explosive at hand, including vocal fireworks. It was bright and sunny when I left the hotel, but a storm cloud soon appeared and it grew darker and darker. In their haste to reach the other shore, my caique- jee happened to run into another caique, which in any other place on earth would have been overlooked with a bow of excuse. Not so on the Bosporus! My mild- mannered Turks and the three in the other caique were at battle in a second. Had I been able to speak their language, and offer them money, they could not have heard me, so horrible were their cries. There was nothing to do but to sit still and pray and try to balance the shell-like caique. Suddenly my caiquejee raised his heavy oar to fling it at the other, lost his balance, and we were all dashed into the cold water of the Bosporus. Instantly the clatter ceased. Some one held me up in the water, and guided the upturned boat toward my hands. After the longest moments of my life, the other heavier caique was caught and balanced 124 TURKEY while I was dragged into it. It was then I noticed there were but four of us where there had been six. I did not cry then^ but tried to know I was being cared for. I afterwards learned that it was my silence that saved me. Had I cried or screamed they would have thrown me overboard again and gone away without me, for there is a superstition about tears in a storm, and where a woman is con- cerned all signs are of an adverse nature. Suddenly one of the Turks gave a blood-curdling yell to attrad the attention of the pilot on the little steamer that plies between Skutari and the Galata Bridge. I was helped on board and cared for. No woman could have been more kind, more respedful, or more solicitous for my comfort than were these young Turks. They formed a ring around me sheltering me from the gaze of the rougher, older ones. They put their capes about me while they dried my coat, hat and shoes, and shielded my face as I stood by the engine door to dry my skirt. The young Turk who had held me up in the water could speak a little French, and made me understand that I was per- fectly safe and that he would see me to my 125 BY THE WAY carriage. He told me that he was a pas- senger in the caique which collided with the one I was in, and that a caiquejee from each boat went down in the battle. When you read some dramatic account of the varied fancies that are supposed to pass through the thoughts of one who is drowning, take it cum grano salis. Believe me, the one and only thought that takes possession of a poor mortal at such a time is to grasp something with his hands, and if this is accomplished, his next desire is to feel something solid beneath his feet. His past is nothing, his future less. The present is all there is of human existence. Oh, how well I know this to be true ! I tried to show my gallant Turk the gratitude I felt for his efforts in my behalf. He informed me that I could repay him by speaking a word for his countrymen, if the occasion arose. I can see his dark face now light up with pleasure at my promise as he touched his forehead with his hand, for he had lost his fez in the waters. We parted neither of us knowing the other's name, but no word against the ris- ing generation of Turks can ever be said in my presence since that night. 126 THE GALATA BRIDGE, CONSTANTINOPLE BY PERMISSION OF DR, LEEPER COPYRIGHT BY DR. LEEPER TURKEY I did not rest long undisturbed among the cushions of the carriage he found for me, for my driver who had gone on at a good speed suddenly stopped in the steep- est, darkest part of the almost perpendicu- lar incline that leads up to Pera from Galata, and, turning, showed me a coin, demanding something at the same time. I divined that he was asking if I would pay him that much, and I, with my cheeri- est smile, nodded. But as he turned to gather up the reins again, I caught sight of his face and only the presence of my guardian angel, who had held my hand all that awful day, kept me from shrieking or from fainting. Finally we turned into the lighted street in which was my hotel, and I was out of the vi6toria, through the door and into the lift before the carriage had stopped. I called to the clerk to pay the tariff from \ the Galata Bridge and to give the driver his backsheesh. Their angry voices ascended with the elevator. When I reached my room and had turned the key in the lock, I sobbed out all my pent-up emotion and thankfulness. Will you credit it when I tell you that I started again? This time, however, I 127 BY THE WAY went on the steamboat accompanied by one of the American teachers from the college. * % * * * * In spite of the night spent on — and in — the black waters of the Bosporus, when I think of Constantinople, it is not of this — not of its filthy streets nor its thousands of pariah dogs, not of their howls nor the well nigh unbearable din of bells and yells — but of my first view of a phantom-like city, seated on seven hills, the sides covered with many-colored roofs which slope down to a long white kiosk, of minarets, of mosques with slender spires, and of one tall sentinel cypress tree in the foreground, all seen through the haze of dawn over Marmora's blue waters. 128 HUNGARY The 'world^s best garden. Shakspere, Henry ^., Epilogue. BUDAPEST : 'T^HE Oriental Express was thundering -■■ around the Balkan Mountains in Bul- garia on its long run between Constanti- nople and Budapest, when suddenly, with a succession of sharp jerks, the train came to a stop. Before we could reach the windows, above the babel was heard : "An avalanche ! An avalanche ! The torrent's burst ! '* And with the throng of people at the foot of the mountain, it was enough to strike ter- ror to the stoutest heart. Immediately came a guard to explain that the long tunnel had caved in and that it would be necessary for us to walk across the mountain through which the tunnel was cut that we might take the train on the other side. The people from that train had walked over the pass to take our places, and the peasants who had carried their luggage were waiting to take ours back. 129 BY THE WAY One of the mountaineers adfcing as guide led the way up the narrow trail and down to the waiting train on the other side — perhaps two miles. Instead of a cross, fussy crowd of tired travelers grumbling at the climb, the guide found us a happy lot of overgrown chil- dren, stopping to listen to the wonderful singing of the birds or to pluck the wild flowers, whom he had often to remind with his shrill ^^AvanceT^ that time was passing. Among the first to descend, I looked back up the trail and wondered if the old mountain would ever again witness such a picture. Travelers from every nation, with their different costumes, mingling with the gaily attired peasants, who carried on their heads the much-labeled luggage, all laugh- ing, shouting or singing, made a happy medley both of color and of sound. w ^ ^ 45" w w Budapest is the most beautiful city of the world, except, perhaps, Barcelona. You need not look in your "Noted Places" book to verify this statement, for you will not find it there. Au contraire^ this opinion is my own. Go to Budapest, seled: a room with win- 130 HUNGARY dows giving on the Danube, and see if you do not agree with me. Throw the guide- books aside and wander down the superb Franz Joseph Quai. Note the battlements, the colossal statues of bronze, the Moor- ish archite(5hire united with that of the Romanesque. You will not find all the sumptuousness of Budapest on this street, however, for it is scattered everywhere. The beauty of the architecture can be seen by daylight, but the glory of Buda- pest can only be felt as you sail away, "Some night in June, Upon the Danube River.*' 131 w AUSTRIA jill places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a ivise man ports and happy havens. Shakspere, Richard II., Act I, Scene 3, Line 475. VIENNA : 'E ARRIVED in Vienna with the Em- peror. In fad:, we adted as his advance guard for some time, his train following ours. The Emperor himself was but a small part of the show, for the officers of his suite outshone all else, and were swagger to a degree. German and Austrian army officers are imposing anywhere, but especially so on horseback. Vienna is a city within a city, for the fortifications which surrounded the old town have been torn down and replaced by a broad boulevard which separates the ancient from the modern portion. Within this Ring-Strasse the streets are narrow and the houses mediaeval ; without, you will find one of the most inviting cities of Europe. Vienna is gay, sparkling and fascinating. Its opera and its shops are world renowned, 132 AUSTRIA and it is a close rival of Paris in setting the modes. Nowhere in all Europe can so much beauty and grandeur of mountain, forest and stream be crowded into one day as during a sail on the Danube from Linz to Vienna. 133 M- GERMANY For tioiv I am in a holiday humour. Shakspere, jis You Like It, Act IV, Scene i. Line 68. MUNICH : ^ INTRODUCTION to BavaHa was through Salzburg. It was a happy presentation, as few towns can compare with it in situation. Salzburg is surrounded by mountains with castles on every peak. It was the home of Mozart, and is overflowing with interesting memoirs of that great musician. Munich is a city of wealth. It is the Mecca for students of art and music and the starting-point for the three wondrous castles built by the Mad King of Bavaria, as well as for Oberammergau. Nestling at the foot of the Austrian Alps, a long chain of mountains may be seen on a clear day, in all its splendor, from the statue of Bavaria. Munich possesses a lion's share of public buildings architecflurally notable. 134 w GERMANY NURNBERG: HiLE in Munich we were entertained in the home of Baroness von H., giving us a glimpse into German intimate life, and here I have had the privilege again of being in the home of an American girl who married a German officer. I find their life ideal. I love Germany and the Germans. They move quicker than any of our for- eign cousins, notwithstanding the slowness ascribed to them in story, and there is al- ways something doing. This fancy of mine about rapidity is, I presume, accentuated by a hurried glimpse of the Empire which these German friends have given me. And right here let me say that foreigners need no longer poke fun at us for the "lightning condu6tor" manner with which some of us see the world. The itinerary took us first to Berlin; and dancing through my head are pictures of Brandenburg Gates, Sieges- Allees and Thiergartens ; of Charlottenburg with its mausoleum of the much-loved Queen Louise of pidlured fame ; of Potsdam with its Sans Souci; of Frankfort-on-Main with the renowned Palmen Garten; of Dres- 135 BY THE WAY den and its Academy of Arts ; of Wies- baden, its tourists and springs ; of Metz, with its Conservatory and its high-bred women. W w w w w W Niirnberg is unlike any other place in the world. I never have seen such odd bridges, fountains and oriel windows. It is the home of the Faber pencil, and leads the world in the manufadlure of wonderful toys ; and yet this busy little city has pre- served to a larger extent than any other in Germany the appearance of the Middle Ages. Its quiet quaintness makes it a gem. If you can see but one place in Ger- many, let it be Niirnberg. 136 MODERN NURNBERG OLD NURNBERG FRANCE Je voudrais n etre pas Francais pour pouvoir dire, — ^«< je te cAoisiSy France^ et que Je te.proclame Ma patrie et ma gloire et man unique amour I Victor Hugo, A La France. Ohy to have been born eheioherey that I might choose thee J France^ and proclaim thee my country ^ my glory and my oivn ! Translation by Eleanor Everest Freer. PARIS: ^T^HE captain advised us to remain on ■^ deck while the ship was entering the harbor at Havre, and we were repaid for the midnight vigil by the brilliancy of the scene. The port itself is narrow, but the effe6t of space is given by the numerous basins and the canal, filled with craft and sails of every description. The splendid masonry stands out strong and beautiful under the multitude of eledric lights which line the shore on either side. I was surprised to find Havre so large and fine a city. Neither Baedeker nor Hare tell about its beauties nor its harbor. We had more time there than we had counted on because we missed the early BY THE WAY morning train to Rouen, but we passed it very pleasantly in this bright Norman city. It is the rural part that has made Nor- mandy famous, and that part which lies between Havre and Rouen is beautiful. It lies low and is checkered with little silver streams that flow this way and that through every se6tion. Rouen, too, keeps up the Normandy record for quaintness. Suzanne and I would have been willing to settle right down there and stay, but we stopped only long enough to see St. Ouen, one of the most beautiful Gothic churches in existence, and the Palais de Justice, which is a splendid copy of Belgian archite6ture. * % 45- * 4fr * I must tell you what a joy you are ! You have contented yourself with the daily post-card and the by-weekly billet-doux, which have been plus doux que long, I fear, but without the usual weekly budget. We have been going so fast that I think it wise to wait a bit and endeavor to digest the knowledge gained in travel before writing of it. As I look back over what I have seen in the last few months, both in art and nature, I realize the truth of a little thing I once read, taken from a letter by 138 FRANCE a well-known writer of short stones to William Dean Howells. She said that we must have some atmos- phere, some distance, between ourselves and our theme in order to get perspe6tive, whether one be painter or writer. So I feel sure that this budget will lose nothing by the waiting when I tell you what I have picked up by the way in la belle Paris, If you can come but once, do not come in July or August, the tourist season. Paris is a dream of beauty at all seasons, but the charm of any city is obscured when it is crowded as Paris is during those months. Come in May. Do you not remember what Vidor Hugo said in " Le Proscrit" ? **Le mois de mai sans la France, Ce n'est pas le mois de mai.'* We did a wise thing in choosing from among our numerous addresses a pension 'Mowntown." It saves us time, strength and money. It is not one of those pensions Longfellow used to tell about, which had inscribed on its front: **Ici on donne a boire et a manger; On loge a pied et a cheval ! ' ' Literally, " Here we give to drink and to eat; we lodge on foot and on horseback." BY THE WAY Our pension only gives to eat and to lodge " on foot." I do not mention the drinking, for seldom, I find, can one get a good cup of coffee anywhere. The chocolate and tea are perfed:, however, and the little crescent- shaped rolls and the fresh, unsalted butter are delicious. We are on the Rue de la Bienfaisance, just off the Boulevard Haussman, not far from the beautiful ^glise Saint Augustin, where many of the weddings of the Paris four hundred are celebrated, and only a few minutes' walk from the Gare Saint Lazare. We call each morning for our English friends, who live in the Rue des Pyramides, near the Rue de Rivoli, at the place where stands the bronze statue of Jeanne d'Arc. The Louvre Palais, which contains the Musee, and the Tuileries are just across the Rue de Rivoli, with the Place de la Concorde a little farther up. The Grand Opera is but a few squares away, with the American Express office near it, and the Church of the Madeleine hard by. The Place de la Concorde is an immense square with mammoth pieces of sculpture at each corner, representing the provinces taken from the Germans. One of these 140 FRANCE provinces was recaptured by the Germans, but instead of marring the Place by re- moving the statue, it is kept draped with crepe and wreaths of flowers. In the cen- ter of the square is the obelisk, with foun- tains playing about it. The roads are as white as snow, both through and around the Place. It is framed in green by the Tuileries, the Champs Elysees, and the banks of the Seine. There is a view one gets right here which cannot, perhaps, be excelled in all the world. If you stand at the court of the Louvre in the space where the Arc de Car- rousal meets the Louvre Palais, and look through the arch, the eye catches at once the green of the Tuileries garden and its trees, the dazzling brightness of its mar- bles, the sparkling of its fountains, the obelisk, and far on through the Champs Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe, which makes a fitting finish for this most glori- ous vista. I am at loss to tell you just what to do with only a week in this little world, but let nothing deter you from coming. I would rather have come for one day than never to have seen it at all. With a week on your hands, and an inclination in your 141 BY THE WAY heart, you can do wonders in this the most fascinating city on the globe. Were one to be here but a short time, a drive over the city should occupy the first day. Parties are sent out every day, with guides who know the best routes, and it is not a bad idea to join one of them. Do not, however, go with a party to see interiors or the works of art, for one is so hurried that one scarcely knows what has been seen. As an illustration: Two young girls stopping at our pension joined one of these parties going to Versailles the same day that Suzanne and I went. We had seats on top of the steam tram which leaves every hour from the foot of the Place de la Concorde Bridge. We spent the entire day at Versailles, and came away after dark feeling that we had had the merest peep at the parks and gardens, vast with miles of marble terraces, miles of lime-tree bowers, fountains of gold, of silver and of bronze, green of all shades, flowers of all colors, staircases of onyx, paintings, sculptures and relics of untold value. We walked miles and had been driven tens of miles through the parks and gardens of the Grand and Petit Tria- 142 FRANCE non. We had stood by the most stupen- dous series of fountains the world has ever known. And we crawled home weary, but happy at heart for all this beauty, to find that our poor little friends had been there but two hours,— that they had galloped from place to place, catching but little, if anything, of the foreign names pronounced so differently from the way we are taught. Versailles is one of the places where there are ofHcial guides, and it pays to hire one by the hour. Of the museums, see the Luxembourg first, because, while the gardens are beauti- ful, they are not so well kept nor to be compared with those of the Louvre or Versailles. The works of art are placed in the Luxembourg gallery during the life- time of an artist, if his works merit that honor; if his fame lives for ten years after his death, they are transferred to the Louvre. Hence it is in the Luxembourg one will find the best works of living artists. The Louvre Musee is a vast collection of classified art, and occupies the palace of that name, any room of which will repay one's effort to see it. Just wander about alone until some work of art compels you to stop before it. 143 BY THE WAY Then look at your Baedeker and see if it is something noted. It tickles one's vanity to find one has sele6ted a masterpiece with- out having it pointed out. Speaking of guide-books, Baedeker is by far the best, and rarely fails one excepting in galleries, where it is impossible to keep an accurate list of the works of art, as they are fre- quently moved from room to room, or are loaned to some world's exposition. In the Louvre are many of the pi(5lures which every boy or girl knows. Well- known masterpieces of Titian, Raphael, Van Dyke, Rembrandt, Rubens, Murillo and Fra Angelico make one agree with Marie Corelli, that the old masters took their secret of colors away with them. I astonished my English friends by an- nouncing that I did not like Dickens, and now ril shock my Holland friends by not liking Rubens. One should get catalogues of both the Louvre and Luxembourg galleries. If you can make time see Cluny, Gui- met, the Musee des Religions, the Musee Gustave Moreau, the Musee Cernuski — almost wholly oriental, — the Musee Brig- noli-Galliera, the magnificent display of stained glass in the Sainte-Chapelle — this 144 FRANCE on a bright, sunshiny day, — and that most wonderful of modern paintings on the wall of the large amphitheatre of the Sor- bonne University done by Puvis de Cha- vannes. The best manner to see the Bois de Boulogne is to take a boat on the Seine at the Pont Royal, stopping at St. Cloud and Sevres, and, after an hour of exquisite rest amid the dreamland on either side, disembark at Suresnes, cross the bridge, and walk back to Paris through the forest. We took the earliest morning boat. As it chanced to be the day of the Bataille des Fleurs, we spent some time viewing this beautiful scene. We stopped frequently at little cafes for tea or rest, and six o'clock found us at the Arc de Triomphe hailing a cab to take us home. It was fatiguing, but in no other way could we have seen so well the splendid woods and the glimpses of family life among the bon bourgeois. The day you go to Notre Dame, cross the Pont d'Arcole, and that brings you right into the gardens of the Hotel de Ville, which is beyond doubt the most magnificent palace of justice in the world. Its decorations rival those of the Louvre. The entrance, the galleries, the ballroom 145 BY THE WAY and the banquet hall are splendid beyond description. The ceiling decorations are all by noted artists, and represent some type of Plenty, Music, or Love. It is marvelous, the art these French have put into their architedlure. The crowning delight, that of a visit to the tomb of Napoleon, awaits your week's end. The tomb is in the crypt under the Dome des Invalides, a home for old sol- diers, and is reached by walking through the gardens and long, cloister-like passages of the Invalides. As I entered, my eyes fell on an immense altar, through the amber window of which a flood of golden light poured on a colossal cross, lighting the face of the bronze figure of Christ nailed to it, making a most dramatic pidture. This figure was cast from one of Napoleon's cannons. The tomb itself is a large marble basin, over the edge of which you look down onto the sarcophagus cut out of a huge block of reddish-brown granite. It stands on a mosaic pavement, in the form of a laurel wreath, and around the walls are twelve colossal statues representing the twelve vidories. ^ ^ ^ ^ ¥r ¥: 146 FRANCE " I wish I had been born either rich or a hod-carrier ! *' The very idea of a woman of my parts counting centimes I Instead of telling my friends how to come on the least money, I'd rather say. Wait — until you have millions to buy the dainty con- fedlions with which Paris abounds. It gives me heartaches "to look and smile and reach for, then stop and sigh and count the aforesaid centimes T From this you have, perhaps, surmised that we have been going over the pros and cons of shopping — prin- cipally the cons, «■ * * * * «3S- How foolish of me to tell any one not to come to dear, mad, wild, glorious Paris ! Why, rd come, if only to remain a day, and though I had nothing to eat for a year thereafter. Last night when I wrote, I was "way back at the end of the procession," but this morning I am " right up behind the band." And the reason ? Never ask a woman so- journing on foreign shores for a motif. There is but one that, far from those she loves, makes or mars the pleasure of be- ing, brings the sunshine or the cloud, reg- ulates the pulse-beats of her very existence, and that is — A LETTER! H7 BY THE WAY I have not told you. For some days I have had no word, hence my lowly posi- tion of yesterday. But on this bright, beautiful morning I found on my break- fast tray a packet of many-stamped, much- crossed and often-forwarded letters. And now, although it is raining in torrents, and the coffee is — not coffee, — I can see only golden words, and those through rose- tinted glasses. **Ah, what care I how bad the weather!" ****** Mademoiselle D. is here, the guest of friends at their country house at Fontaine- bleau. The day she was our hostess she met us at the station, and we were driven through a long lane, flanked on either side by immense trees, to the Chateau of Fontainebleau. No other palace has aroused so keen an interest as has the interior of this noble old mediaeval fortress, which Francis I. converted into the present chateau. In this palace are tapestries of rare worth and weave, jardinieres in cloisonne, bas-reliefs in jasper, masterpieces of marquetry, and priceless bric-a-brac, found nowhere else in such lavish profusion. 148 FRANCE Mademoiselle's hostess sent her ser- vants with a dainty luncheon, which they served for us on the marble steps leading from VEtang des Carpes to the water's edge. The afternoon and early hours of the evening were spent in driving through the forest and at Barbizon. Oh, the air of artistic Bohemia, the at- mosphere of achievement which dominates this world-renowned Barbizon ! It does not seem possible that the Barbizon of which Will Low gives a description in his "A Chronicle of Friendships" could have remained unaltered since the early seven- ties, but it has. Both his brush and pen pidures are so vividly accurate, that I pointed out many of his old and beloved haunts before Mademoiselle had time to tell me. Often she would say, "You have been here h^^ovQ, n\st-ce-pas?^^ I always assured her to the contrary, but always added, " I shall surely come again." At the very word "Barbizon" the thoughts fly back, involuntarily, to those painters whose names stand for all that is highest and best in Art. Their early life songs ran in minor chords, to be sure, but the vibrations have lost the pathos, and we hear only of the beauty and joy they 149 BY THE WAY have left behind them for their fellow men. Every child knows "The Angelus," and every lover of the truth in pidlure, song or story pauses a moment before the bronze face of Millet, set into a rock that lies on the edge of this wee village. The forest of Fontainebleau embraces over fifty square miles, and its magnificent timber and pidluresque splendor are not surpassed in all France. W W w W w W We were guests at the American Am- bassador's reception yesterday. His house, just off the Champs Elysees, is furnished with elegance and taste. The gowns worn by both the French and American women were most of them airy creations of lace, many of them gorgeous, all of them grace- ful and fetching. Lace is the prominent fa6tor in gowns here. Refreshments were served from a huffet set in one of the drawing-rooms, and gen- tlemen, instead of ladies, assisted the host- ess about the rooms. w w W w W W The Bois of Vincennes is a park cover- ing some two thousand acres laid out with drives, walks, lakes and islands, and while 150 BOIS DK VINCENNES CHATEAU D'AMBOISE FRANCE less frequented than the Bois de Boulogne, it is fully as attradive. Louis IX. hunted in this forest in 1 270, but Louis XV. trans- formed it into a park in 1731. Fontenay-sous-Bois, an odd little vil- lage, is charmingly situated on the edge of these woods. We had taken a great fancy to the petit gateaux of France, and, happily for us, we found them at Fonte- nay as good as in Paris. We would stop at the old patisserie to get them, on our way to the Bois, where we went every af- ternoon to write or to study and to hear the band. Not far from Fontenay is the antique al fresco theatre of Champigny where the leading adtors of France can be seen dur- ing the summer months. I BOULOGNE-SUR-MER : STARTED to Spend a few days at Paris- Plage, one of the fascinating seasides of France, where is found that rare combina- tion, an excellent beach with shade trees; but, instead, I stopped two months at St- aples, a little fishing village, about a mile from the Plage, with a shady path through the woods between the two places. Etaples is the old sketching-ground of 151 BY THE WAY Millais and Whistler, near Boulogne-sur- Mer, and is crowded with artists. It is on an arm of the sea, when the tide is /*«, but when that incomprehensibly weird thing is outy it is on a waste of dry sand. Etaples is but a short distance from the village of Montreuil, with its outdoor summer school for sketching. Because of the old Roman ramparts which are still standing and be- cause of its quaintness and its antiquity, Montreuil also attradls a large colony of painters. ¥f ¥f ¥f ¥f ¥f ^ I am often asked what foreign language I would suggest as most useful for travel- ers. I answer unhesitatingly, " French ! " French is taught in the schools of every nation save our own, and it is spoken by every educated foreigner. Whenever I could not ask for what I wanted in the language of the country, invariably I was asked by host, "boots,** or with whom- ever I was gesticulating, — ^^ Parlez vous Fran^ais? " The study of French is a subjedl to which every parent should give serious consideration. No nation is so under- languaged as ours ; and no language is so necessary to a traveler as French. It helps 152 FRANCE one with his own language and adds an interest and enjoyment to intercourse with our foreign cousins ; while without it, we stand mute and helpless and ofttimes be- wildered, and advantage is taken of our seeming stupidity. Study English first and always, and polish it by the study of French. * * * ^fr * * In spite of the fa6t that Boulogne-sur- Mer is full of English pleasure-seekers, we spent restful, happy days there in a pension which occupies an old monastery. BLOIS: Do YOU recall how Athos of "The Three Musketeers" fame was con- tinually reminding D*Artagnan that the "purest French in all France is spoken in Blois" ? And it was because of my inter- est in Dumas's heroes that, when the time came for me to visit the chateau country I made Blois my home. I am unable to pass upon the "purest French," but I can assure you that I watch in vain for the polished Athos, or the reck- less, dashing D'Artagnan of former days. I did^nd the youthful Aramis — but not at Blois. This one was en route to Waterloo 153 BY THE WAY The only time I feel inclined to forgive Henry James for the unkind things he has said of my countrywomen, is when I read his French sojourns and recall his advice that the best economy is to stop at Blois first when on a visit to this fascinat- ing region. If you desire a unique experience and would have entree as a parlor boarder to the fashionable school for demoiselles^ go to Blois armed with letters from the president, the king or emperor of your fatherland. Fortunately, the day I arrived with my credentials, two English girls had been called home, and when at last I was per- mitted to matriculate, I had their room alone, with windows giving on the terrace and the Loire. I fell into line with the rules of the in- stitution, and studied, recited, walked out each evening chaperoned by one of the mistresses, and took my holiday every Thursday with the other students. Sometimes I asked and was given per- mission to add Friday and Saturday to my holiday when I wished to stop longer than one day at some of the old chateaux. I always returned, however, proud that my Chateau of Blois was the finest of them all* FRANCE The Chateau of Blois was eredled on a colossal foundation, both strong and high^ but the castle itself is light and graceful, with its wonderful staircase and court of Fran9ois I. I used often to take my book to the little park in front of the chateau and sit for hours — not reading, but gazing at the old castle and dreaming of Brage- lonne and Louise. * * 45- * * * The Chateau of Chambord is counted as one of the finest specimens of the Renais- sance in existence. Here is found that wonderful double spiral staircase so ar- ranged that one can go up and another down at the same time without each seeing the other. If your time is limited, make up a motor party and visit the Chateaux of Cheverny and Beauregard on the same day you go to Chambord, returning by the Valley of Cesson. In the same man- ner — that is, from Blois and by motor — visit Amboise and Chaumont. Both can be explored in one day. Both overhang the Loire, and both teem with history and beauty. Make Tours your headquarters from which to visit the chateaux of Touraine. 155 BY THE WAY Some one has said: "Normandy is Nor- mandy, Burgundy is Burgundy, but Tou- raine is France." It is the home of Balzac, Rabelais, Descartes, chateaux, books, beau- tiful women and romance. We lived in an old chateau on Rue de Cygne. You may have a suite of rooms and keep house, if you wish, and Madame will find you an excellent bonne; or, you may simply have lodgings and dine where you will. Tours is a good place in which to spend an entire summer. From there should be visited the chateaux and towns of Chinon, Azay-le-Rideau, Montbazon, Loches, and, last, the exquisite Chateau of Chenonceaux with its lemon color. It recalls Venice, for it is built on piles in the River Cher. MARSEILLES : FROM Tours to Paris, from Paris to Geneva, to Aix-les-Bains, to Turin, to Genoa and the French Riviera — such was our somewhat roundabout route to Mar- seilles. It would be difficult to imagine a journey filled with more magnificent and varied scenery and with more of romantic interest. We have climbed up and around and 156 FRANCE over the Alps, following the gorge of the upper Rhone. For nearly a day we threaded the mountains, their tops veiled by the clouds. Scarcely ever were we out of sight of a leaping cascade or a pictur- esque village perched high above, or far below us, except when rushing in and out of the countless short tunnels. Of only less interest was the crossing of the Apen- nines from Turin to Genoa. From Genoa, we have traversed the Riviera by train, tram, carriage and on foot — from the Promenade d' Anglais at Nice to the famous Corniche road between Nice and Monaco. On a Sunday afternoon at Monte Carlo we had our tea on the terrace of the Casino to the accompaniment of a sacred concert by an exquisite orchestra on the one side, and the sharp click of the croupier s rake in the gambling salle on the other. Amidst such bewitching surroundings — the balmy air, the profusion of flowers, the towering Maritime Alps, and the blue Mediterranean at the feet — one can easily fancy oneself in an earthly paradise. You have, of course, read much of the principality of Monaco embracing its eight ^S7 BY THE WAY square miles of territory, with its op^ra bouffe government, and how, surrounded by French territory, its independence has been recognized for several centuries. It is needless to tell you, too, of the gambling carried on in its Casino, hedged in by every external element of alluring culture and refinement. But, I dare affirm that, apart from its gambling, Monaco is one of the enchanted spots of earth. The Cote d^AzuTy as this coast is afifedtionately named, haunts me still. Have I mentioned the masonry of this region ? All through the Alps, the Apen- nines and along the Riviera are massive walls of masonry, supporting a mountain road, forming the graceful arches of some viadud: or holding back the mighty waves of the sea. Much of this work was com- pleted by Napoleon I. Coming, as I do, from a younger civilization, its magnitude appears marvelous to me. ^ w w w ^ 45" Marseilles is a place about which the casual traveler knows but little, and yet it is one of the oldest and most important seaports in the world. So long ago as 600 years before Christ, the Greeks sailed into this natural harbor and made it " master 158 VALLEY OF THE RHONE CORNICHE ROAD BETWEEN NICE AND MONACO FRANCE of the seas." Marseilles carries on a large oriental trade, which accounts for the fancy- dress-ball appearance of its quay and streets. Then there is the Cannebiere. Do you know what the Cannebiere is? Well, it*s a street, or, rather, three streets in one, each with a double row of trees meeting in an arch overhead, and each of these rows of trees flanked by broad walks which are formed into open-air cafes, served from the hotels and restaurants which face them. Here the multitude gathered from all nations may be found — quite the most cosmopolitan of my experi- ence — and here we have our tea each afternoon. All European cities have open-air cafes, but none of them can duplicate the Canne- biere. The Marseillaise are very proud of it, and have a song which runs : ** Si Paris avait une Cannebiere, Paris serait une petite Marseilles." (If Paris had a Cannebiere, it would be a little Marseilles.) Those who named the streets in Mar- seilles must have had their share of senti- ment and romance. One of them is named ^^Rue ParadiSy^ and its principal shop is BY THE WAY called ^^Paradis de Dames T Another rue is named ^^Pav^ d* Amour y* which doesn't quite harmonize with the odor of the favor- ite dish, bouillabaisse y of which Thackeray- wrote. The Chateau d'lf, made famous by Dumas's " Monte Cristo," is on a barren rock which rises out of the sea within sight of the harbor of Marseilles. The chateau was, until recently, a po- litical prison, and many notable men have been confined within its dungeon cells. It is now kept for the inspedlion of tourists, and one is shown the inscriptions carved on its begrimed walls by Edmond Dante and the learned Abbe Faria during their fourteen years* imprisonment in cells where daylight never penetrated. "Sfr W TS" w w w If time should hang heavily on your hands at Marseilles, go to Aix-en-Prov- ence — not that there is anything especial to see at Aix except the quaintly rural landscape, nor yet anything especial to do except to taste the calisson^ an almond cake of which Aix holds the secret recipe. But, go! It is in the going that your time will be ^;;hung. The tram leaves from the Vieux Port, 1 60 CHATEAU D'lF ALMERIAf SPAIN FRANCE and if you go down at the hour advertised, just place a book or your top-coat on a seat to reserve it, and then go to get your grand dejeuner^ to take a nap, or to shop, 'returning at your leisure, and you'll have ample time. . Local freight is carried on a little trailer car, and the car is moved alongside the freight that has been dumped in the middle of the street near the track. This looks so easy that before the car is loaded, it is moved a half block or so, and the freight is carried to the new location of the car and again dumped on the ground. After this operation has been repeated several times, the ludicrousness of it all dawns on one, and turns the tears of anger caused by the delay, to laughter. It really seems as though some of these foreign cousins of ours endeavored to do things in the most difficult way. i6i w ISCHIA So ivatted I until it came — God"*! daily miracle^ — oh^ shame That I had seen so many days Unthankful J ivithout ivondering praise. Lowell, "At Sea," Fireside Travels. CASAMICCIOLA: 'HAT slaves of sentiment we mortals are! Here I am at Ischia again — Ischia that has been enshrined in our hearts for years! And yet it is not the enchanted island of our younger dreams. Will the memory of that first visit ever be effaced? Can you not recall, as though it were yesterday, how our hearts beat when we found the invitation to dine at the old castello on a promontory of Ischia? How we donned our spotlessest white, and boarded one of the smaller craft that plies between the island towns! How we threaded our way through the myriad of boats which crowded the Bay of Naples ! How fascinated we were with everything, from the fairyland of islands to the old captain who would lean far over the rail and scold at people coming to meet the 162 ISCHIA boat, if they were late, and yet who would stop his boat anywhere to take them on board ! How even the rain that threatened to undo our spotlessness seemed part of the scheme, and how, when the wind arose and the waves ran high, you declared we would not go ashore like the common herd! How, when we arrived at our desti- nation, the young officer got the biggest, whitest and cleanest of the rowboats around to the sea-side of our ship, avoiding the crowd which was filling the boats on the other side. Will you ever forget the great wave that drenched the officer as he stood at the bottom of the ladder trying to steady the smaller boat that I might leap in, and, after we were pushed off, the feeling of helplessness at tossing on that mighty sea so far from shore? How the old oarsman stopped in the roughest part, demanding his fare, and after you had paid him, in- sisted, like Oliver Twist, on more ! How you shook your fist at him, balancing your- self in that frail craft, and cried, "v^Z/^z/" and how he alleged before that fist ! How the handsome young Ischian had sele6ted me as his signorind s guest! How his frank eye inspired confidence, and I let 163 BY THE WAY him hand me into the wee phaeton; and how we started up the mountain, wonder- ing all the while! How he seemed to remember something, stopped the pony- bedecked with ribbons and feathers, and gave me a note which proved my confi- dence was not misplaced and that he was our hostess's coachman! How he showed us the old castle from each vantage point, proud to be serving the beautiful signorinay and bubbling over with joy at our evident admiration ! All this is changed. The old castle still stands out, white and clear cut, with the blue Mediterranean beating on three of its sides, but the sunshine has flown. No smiling mistress in silken robes, no Roman servants, no coachman of polished bronze were here to welcome me now. The great hall with its wealth of marble re- mains, but the objets d^arts brought from every corner of the globe are gone, and all the warmth of heart that comes from loving hospitality is missing. My hostess of former years has been wooed away. •56- * * * % * Let not my musing, however, deter any one from coming to Ischia. Situated at the northern extremity of the Bay of 164 ISCHIA Naples, as Capri is at its southern ex- tremity, it is at once unique and romantic. W ON SHIPBOARD : E SET sail from Marseilles one eve- ning as the autumn sun was sinking behind the distant Alps. Cruising along the Riviera and the rugged coast of Cor- sica, on the second morning we were close to Italy's shore with the environs of Naples in the misty background. We remained in port three days, living on the ship the while. A drive to Posilipo, the never-ending panorama of Neapolitan life, and the day at Ischia, about which I told you in my last letter, filled the time, and at midnight of the third day we weighed anchor for home. I ALMERIA: T IS to be regretted that the big packet of letters which awaited me here, full to overflowing with questions, could not have been received earlier. The twelve hours of unexpedled waiting caused by the de- layed sailing of the ship will give me, however, an opportunity to answer a lim- ited number. You will receive this letter — one of you at least — -before that happy 165 BY THE WAY day when I shall set foot again upon my native land. Does it pay to come abroad for a short time? It pays to come for a day. The ocean voyage is compensation in itself. Nothing broadens one's life like touching the lives of others. And did request me to importune you. To let him spend his time no more at home. Which would be great impeachment to his age In having known no travel in his youth. Shakspere, Tivo Gentlemen of Verona^ Act I, Scene 3, Line 13, Is it worth while, before coming, to read about the places one intends to visit ? It is more than worth while! It is necessary! That which one will compre- hensively absorb during any journey de- pends largely upon what one has read. This is especially true of foreign travel. The books I have named in my letters will be of assistance to you.* .V. «, AIL il^ •(, H, 7? W TT w W W And now you ask me to sum up my foreign experiences. Your request reminds me of the schoolmaster who gave out as * See index of authors and books. 166 ISCHIA the subje(5t of a prize composition, " The World and Its Inhabitants." In all seriousness, this has been the most delightful and at the same time the most miserable year of my life. Comprenez-vous? They said the stars shone with a softer gleam ; It seemed not so to me ! In vain a scene of beauty beamed around — My thoughts were o'er the sea. Longfellow, Outre Mer^ Chapter on Pilgritn s Salutation. I am not unmindful of all the oppor- tunities I have had to see God's beautiful world, and I think little has escaped me that has been in my line of vision. Of all countries, I like England best — yes, England! dear, green, blossoming England; of all cities, Paris and Florence; of all churches, St. Mark's in Venice; of pidluresque places, Killarney's lakes and the Lake of Lucerne; of awesome grandeur in nature, the Giant's Causeway and on the heights of Switzerland; of man's work in art and architedure combined, Fontaine- bleau, Versailles, the Bargello in Florence and Raphael's Stanza and Loggie in the Vatican ; of colleded art in sculpture, that found in Rome ; of colledted art in paint- 167 BY THE WAY ing, that found in the galleries of Florence; of the sublime in nature, the sunsets on the Mediterranean, moonlight on the Arno, the Alpine glow on the Rigi, and sunrise over the Acropolis; of all peoples, the upper class of Irish and English. And the happiest moments spent among this array- were those when reading my letters from home. I have been treated with charming cor- diality everywhere and have met clever, cultured people, both foreign and Ameri- can. I have seen — and heard — a few Americans, the sort whose bragging brings the blood to the face, but I am happy to tell you they have been few. I should advise any one to come here with the intention of enjoying and not of criticising. If things are desired as they are in America, stay there. One comes to a foreign country to see things as they are, and, most of all, to see things which we have not. The science of comprehensive observa- tion should be taught in every school, for few know how to observe understandingly. Culture comes high, at the easiest, and in no way can one absorb so much or so well as by observation while traveling. i68 ISCHIA GIBRALTAR: QooN after the last letter was posted, a •^ note and a cable were handed me by the purser. The cable was from Ruth announcing her marriage and removal to Porto Rico. The letter, from Mrs. F. telling of her husband*s complete recovery and that his business interests were taking them to Japan, where they would make for them- selves a home. Her hurried notes to me have borne only her initials. This letter she signed, for the first time, with her Christian name — the same as my own. The spelling is identical. Odd, is it not ? 169 INDEX OF PLACES WITH NAME OF HOTEL OR PENSION / rather 'would entreat thy company To see the ivonders of the tvorid abroad. Shakspere, Two Gentlemtn •/ Verona^ Act I, Scene I, Line 5. Bring us tohere ive may rest ourselves and feed. Shakspere, As Tou Like It, Act II, Scene 4, Line 74. Abbotsford : from Melrose, 28. Aix-les-Bains : Terminus Hotel, 156. Aix-en-Provence : from Marseilles, 160. Almeria, 165. Amalfi : St. Catherine Hotel, 57. Ambleside : Grange Private Hotel, 26. Amsterdam : Hotel Viftoria, 105. Amboise : Hotel du Lion d'Or, Anacapri : Hotel Vittoria, 56. Antwerp : New Hotel London, 109. Athens : Hotel d'Angleterre, 117. Ayr: King's Arms, 33, 34. Azay-le-Rideau : from Tours, 1 56. Azores : see Ponta Delgada, 52. Bantry : from Cork, 40. Barbizon : Siron, 149. Barcelona : Mme. de Bergue, 79 Rambla Cataluna, 130. Belfast : Waverly, 34. Berlin : Hotel Bristol, 135. 171 INDEX OF PLACES Blarney : from Cork, 41. Blue Grotto : from Naples, 55. Blois : Hotel d'Angleterre, 153- Bonchurch : Bonchurch Hotel, 22. Boulogne-sur-Mer : Christol et Bristol, 151. Bourne End : from London, 1 5. Bray : from Dublin, 44. Brigue : Hotel des Couronnes et Poste, 102. Brindisi : International, 115. Brussels : Bellevue et Flandre, 108. Budapest : Hungaria, i 29. Callander : Mrs. Linklater, Kinlock Cottage — coach for Trossachs, 32. Capri : Grotte Bleue, 54, 55, 56, 165. Carisbrooke Castle : Eight Bells Inn, 22. 172 Carlisle : Miss Woodrow, 4 Al- fred Street, 27. Casamicciola : Pension Pithecusa, 162. Chambord : from Blois, 155. Champigny : from Paris, 151. Charlottenberg : from Berlin, 135. Chateau d'lf : from Marseilles, 1 60. Chaumont : from Blois, 155. Chelsea : from London, 12. Chenonceaux : from Tours, 156. Chester : The Blossoms, 5. Chesterfield : Angel, 24. Chinon : Hotel de France, 156. Cologne : St. Paul, 106. Como, Lake : Grande Bretagne, Bel- lagio, 89. Constantinople : Pera Palace, 120. Corfu : St. George, 115. INDEX OF PLACES Cork: Temperance, 40. Corinth : Hotel des Etrange, 117. Corsica, 165. Cowes : Royal Medina, 23. Dardanelles, 122. Dargle (Dark Glen) : from Dublin, 44. Domodossola ; Hotel de la Ville et Poste, 91, 93. Dublin : Metropole, 42, 50. Dresden : Savoy, 136. Edinburgh : Waverly, 29. Ellen's Isle, 27. Etaples : Fontenay-sous-Bois : from Paris, 151. Frankfort-on-the-Main : Hotel Schwan, 135. Freshwater : Stark's Inn, 21. Geneva : Hotel des Families, 156. Genoa : Nazionale, 157. Giant's Causeway : Causeway Hotel, 34. Gibraltar : Grand, 52. Glasgow : Bath Hotel, 29, 32. GlengarifF : Eccles, 39. Grasmere : Temperance, 26. Hampton Court : from London, 12. Mme. Geneau, Rue du Havre : Rivage, 151. Frascati, 137. Fiesole : from Florence, 84. Florence : Pension Jennings-Ric- cioli, 37 Corso dei Tintori, 80. Fontainebleau : Pension Viftoria, 148. Hawarden : from Chester, 5. Henley : Red Lion, 16. Innisfallen : from Killarney, 38. Inversnaid : Inversnaid Hotel, 32. 173 INDEX OF PLACES London : Ischia : see Casamicciola, 162. Isle of Wight : see Ryde, Cowes, Ventnor, Freshwater, 20. Keswick : Queens, 27. Kew : from London, 12. Kilkenny : Club House, 45. Killarney : Great Southern, 36. Kenilworth : from Leamington, 8. Lake Distrift : English, 25. Lame : Olderfleet, 34. Lausanne : Beau-Sejour, 103. Leamington : Manor House, 6. Leeds : Queens, 25. Lido : from Venice, 88. Liverpool : Adelphi, 3. Loches : Hotel de la Promenade, 156. 174 Russell Square Hotel, Whitehall Hotels, 1 1 , 17- Lucerne : Beau-Rivage, 93, 103. Lugano : Splendide, 91. Maggiore, Lake, 91. Marseilles : Hotel de Geneve, 158, 165. Melrose : Waverly, 27. Menaggio : Menaggio, 91. Metz; Grand Hotel de Metz, 136. Milan : Roma, 90. Monaco : from Nice, 157. Montbazon : from Tours, 156. Monte Carlo : Hotel des Anglais, 157. Montreuil : Mme. Crutel, 152. Munich : Bellevue, 134. Naples : Bertolini's Palace, 54, 55> 57» 165. INDEX OF PLACES Nice : Terminus, 157. Norwood : from London, 14. Niirnberg : Goldener Adler, 135. Oberammergau : Frau Christus Lang, Main Street, 134. Olympia, 116. Orvieto ; Belle Arti, 'jd, 78. Oxford : Micklem Hall, 9, 1 6. Portsmouth : Beach Mansions, 21. Posilipo : from Naples, 165. Potsdam : ' Einsiedler, 135. Queenstown : Queens, xiii, 42. Richmond : from London, i 2. Rome : Pension Michel, via Torino 98, 60. Rouen : Hotel de la Poste, 138. Paris : Pension, 30 Rue de la Ryde : Bienfaisance: Hotel de Esplanade, 21. Calais, 137. Patras : Hotel d'Angleterre, 116. Penrith : Waverly Temperance, 27. Piraeus : Continental, 119. Pompeii : from Naples, 59. Ponta Delgada : The Inn, 51. Portrush : Landsdown Crescent, 34- St. Cloud : Belvedere, 145. Salzburg : Pension Kaiserin Elisa- beth, 134. Sans Souci : from Potsdam, 135. Sevres : from Paris, 145. Shanklin : Royal Spa, 23. Siena : Pension Tognazzi, via Sallutio Bandini 19, 79- ^7S INDEX OF PLACES Simplon : Pension Fletschhorn, 97. Skipton : Devonshire Arms, 25. Skutari : from Constantinople, 123. Slough : Crown, 24. Smyrna, 120. Sorrento : CoGumella, 56. Stirling : Waverly Temperance, 30. Stoke Poges : from Slough, 24. Stranraer : King's Arms, 34. Stratford-on-Avon : Red Horse, 9. Suresnes : from Paris, 145. Tours : Mme. Francois, 27 Rue de Cygne, 156. Trossachs : Glasgow or Edinburgh, 31- Turin : Suisse, 157. Venice : Pension Beau-Rivage, 85. Ventnor : New Queens, 22. Versailles : Hotel des Reservoirs, 142. Vienna : Pension Monopole, IX 3 Garelligasse, 132. Vietri : Trattoria Rosa, 58. Vincennes : from Paris, i 50. Warwick : . Globe Inn, 8. Wicklow : from Dublin, 44. Wiesbaden : Villa Rupprecht, 1 2 Sonnenbergerstrasse, 136. Windermere : Mrs. Kellett, Mount View, New Road, 24. Windsor : White Hart Inn, 10, Youghal : Imperial, 41. Zurich : Pension Neptun, See- feldstrasse, 105. 176 INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS MENTIONED Knoiving that I loved my books y he furnish' d me . . . ivith volumes that I prize above my dukedom. Shakspere, The Temfesty Act I, Scene 2, Line i66. Alcott, Louise : home of, 76. Austin, Alfred : reference to, 36. -A Summer in England : issued by Woman's Rest TourAssociation of Bos- ton, 166. Baedeker : a guide-book issued for each country and principal city, 144, 166. IBell, Lilian : reference to, 63. Besant, Walter : London, 166. Black, William : Hand- some Humes ; Strange Adventure series, 16, 166. Blossom, Henry : quota- tions from Documents in Evidence, 147. Boswell, James: Haunts of. Browning, Elizabeth B. : Casa Guidi Windows ; The Dance, 80, 166. Browning, Robert : De Gustibus ; Old Piftures ; Andrea del Sarto ; The Statue and the Bust ; The Ring and the Book, 3, 92, 166. Bunyan : Pilgrim's Prog- ress, The Author' s Apol- ogy, iii. Burke, Edmund : statue of, 48. Burns, Robert : home of, 33 ; haunts of, 30. 177 INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS Burroughs, John : Waiting, quotations from, 42, 100. Burton, Richard : Dumb in June, reference to, 9. Butler, Mrs. : Biography of Katherine of Siena, 79- Byron : home of, in Rome, 75- Carlyle, Thomas : home of, 12. Clement, C. E. : Naples, the city of Parthenope, 166. Coleridge, Samuel T. : home of, 27. Coufopoulos, Demetrius : Constantinople, guide- book in English, 166. Crawford, F. Marion : Greifenstein, 166; home of, 57. Dayot, Armand : Beauti- ful Women in Art, 166, DeForest, Katherine: Paris as it is, 166. Dickens : reference to, 1 44. Dumas : reference to, 153, 160. Eliot, George : home of, 76. 178 Emerson : English Traits, 166. Freeman, E. A. : English Tours & Districts, 1 66. Goldsmith, Oliver : statue of, 48. Gray, Thomas : Elegy, quotation from, 24. Green, John Richard : Short History of the English People, 166. Grifi, E. : Saunterings in Florence, 166. Hare, Augustus J. C: Walks, in principal cities, 166. Hawthorne, Nathaniel : English, French and Italian Note Books ; Marble Faun, 63, 74, 166. Homer: birthplace of, 1 2 1 . Horton, George : In Argolis ; Modern Athens, 166. Howard, Blanche Willis : One Year Abroad, 166. Howells : Tuscan Cities ; Italian Journeys ; Venetian Life ; Silver Wedding Journey, 63, 75, 80, 89, 139, 166. INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS Hubbard, Elbert : Little Journeys, io8. Hugo, Viftor : quotations from, 137, 139- Hutton, Laurence : Liter- ary Landmarks, II, 75, 76, 80, 166. Hutton, William Holden : Mediasval Constantino- ple, 166. Irving, Washington : Sketch Book, 166. Jackson, Helen Hunt : home of, in Rome, 76. James, Henry : Little Tours in France ; Portraits of Places ; Transatlantic sketches, 154, 166. Jameson, Mrs.: Early Italian Painters ; Art Legends ; home of, in Rome, ']6, 166. Jonson, Ben : haunts of, 30- Keats, John : home of, in Rome, 74, 75. Kingsley, Charles : Westward Ho, 166. Knight : Through the Wordsworth Country, 166. Knox, John : haunts of, 30. Loomis, L. C: The Index Guide, 166. Longfellow : Outre Mer, quotations from The Norman Diligence and Pilgrim's Salutation, II, 139, 166. Low, Will H.: A Chron- icle of Friendship, 149. Lowell, James Russell : Legends of Brittany ; My Study Window ; Fireside Travels, 11, 162, 166. Lytton, Edward Bulwer : Last Days of Pompeii, 166. Macquoid, K, S. : Through Normandy ; Through Brittany, 166. Mahoney, Francis: quota- tion from, 41. Martineau, Harriet : Guide to English Lake District, 27. Matthews, Brander : Americanisms and Briticisms, 166. Meredith, George: Vittoria, 166. 179 INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS Meredith, Owen : Venice, 1 66. Moore, Thomas : Vale of Avoca, quotation from, 45. Oliphant, Mrs. : Makers of Florence ; Royal Edinburgh, 80, 166. Ouida : A Dog of Flanders; Niirnberg Stove, 166. Parker, John H. : A. B. C. of Gothic Architefture, 166. Porter, Jane: Scottish Chiefs, 31. Raleigh, Sir Walter : home of, 41. Ruskin: Stones of Venice; Mornings in Florence; Seven Lamps, notes on Turner and notes on Pre-Raphaelitism ; Hortus Inclusus, notes on piftures in the Royal Academy, and guide to piftures in the Acad- emy of Fine Arts at Venice, 80, 83, 89, 166. Sartoris, Adelaide : home of, 76. 180 Scott; home of, 28 ; haunts of, 26, 29, 30, 32. Shakspere : home of, 9 ; quotations from, I, 82, 120, 129, 132, 134, 166. Shelley : haunts of, 26, . 74» 75- Singleton, Esther: Turrets, Towers and Temples ; Great Pidlures ; Historic Buildings, 166. Smith, F. Berkeley : The Real Latin Quarter, 1 66. Smith, F. Hopkinson : Well-worn Roads, 108. Southey : home of, 26. Stevenson, Robert Louis : Travels of a Donkey, 166. Stockton, Frank R. : reference to, 28. Stowe, Harriet B.: Agnes of Sorrento, 166. Symonds, John A. : The Renaissance in Italy, 79, 166. Tennyson : home and haunts of, 21, 39. Thackeray: Irish Sketch Book ; Paris Sketch Book : Cornhill to Cairo, 9, 41, ']6y 160, 166. INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS Thoreau : reference to, lo8. Trollope : Homes and Haunts, 1 66. Ward, Mrs. Humphrey : Eleanor, reference to, 78, 91- Warner, Charles Dudley : A Roundabout Journey ; In the Levant, 166. Whitmg, Richard : Life of Paris, 1 66. Whiting, Lilian : Spiritual Significance, chapter on Siena, 79. Wiggins, Kate Douglas : Cathedral Courtship ; English, Scotch and Irish Experiences, 166. Woolson, Constance Fenimore: reference to, 74- Wordsworth : Excursion, guide to English lakes, 26, 166. 181 HERE ENDS BY THE WAY, BEING A SERIES OF TRAVEL LETTERS WRITTEN DURING SEVERAL JOURNEYS ABROAD BY AGNESS GREENE FOSTER. PUBLISHED BY PAUL ELDER ©" COMPANY AND PRINTED FOR THEM BY THE TOMOYE PRESS, IN THE CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO, UNDER THE DIRECTION OF J. H. NASH IN THE MONTH OF APRIL AND YEAR NINETEEN HUNDRED & TEN. H^x. ^^-^^^ .^ G * .^ ^^ "hi. u.-^ - "> - v * O - "* V" "VZ^^^ '<^^ aO ^o^ JAN 79 N MANCHESTER. ^^ ^^,