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/(>/(,, 
 
 AN 
 
 American Girl Abroad. 
 
 BY 
 
 ADELINE TRAFTON 
 
 *y/£J>. 
 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 BY MISS L. B. HUMPHREY. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 New York : 
 
 lee, shepard and dillingham. 
 
 1872. 
 
Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1872, 
 
 By LEE AND SHEPAKD, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 Of CONGRESS 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 
 Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, 
 No. 19 Spring Lane. 
 
I DEDICATE 
 
 ris gUtorfc of peasant jlap 
 
 TO MY FATHER, 
 
 REV. MARK TRAFTON. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 i. 
 
 " At night we descended into the depths of the steamer to wor- 
 ship with the steerage passengers." Frontispiece. 
 
 II. 
 
 " A dozen umbrellas were tipped up ; the rain fell fast upon a 
 dozen upturned, expectant faces." 57 
 
 III. 
 
 " At the word of command they struck the most extraordinary- 
 attitudes." 157 
 
 IV. 
 
 "Frowsy, sleepy, cross, and caring nothing whatever for the 
 sun, moon, or stars, we stood like a company of Bedlamites, 
 ankle deep in the wet grass upon the summit." . . . 176 
 
 V. 
 
 " Evidently the little old woman is going a journey." . . 196 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Together we stared at him with rigid and severe counte- 
 nances." . . . . , 240 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ABOARD THE STEAMER. 
 
 We two alone.— "Good by." — "Are you the captain of this 
 ship ? " — Wretchedness. — The jolly Englishman and the 
 Yankee. — A sail ! — The Cattle-man. — The Jersey-man whose 
 bark was on the sea. — Church services under difficulties.— 
 The sweet young English face. — Down into the depths to 
 worship. — " Beware ! I stand by the parson." — Singing 
 to the fishes. — Green Erin. — One long cheer. — Farewell, 
 Ireland 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FIRST DAYS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Up the harbor of Liverpool. — We all emerge as butterflies. — 
 The Mersey tender. — Lot's wife. — " Any tobacco ? " — 
 "Names, please." — St. George's Hall. — The fashionable 
 promenade. — The coffee-room. — The military man who 
 showed the purple tide of war in his face. — The railway 
 carriage. — The young man with hair all aflame. — English 
 villages. — London. — No place for us. — The H. house.— 
 The Babes in the Wood. — The party from the country. — We 
 are taken in charge by the Good Man. — The Golden Cross. — 
 Solitary confinement. — Mrs. B.'s at last. . . . .27 
 
 7 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 
 
 Strange ways. — " The bears that went over to Charlestown." — 
 The delights of a runaway without its dangers. — Flower 
 show at the Crystal Palace. — Whit-Monday at Hampton 
 Court. — A queen baby. — "But the carpets?" — Poor Nell 
 Gwynne. — Vandyck faces. — Royal beds. — Lunch at the 
 King's Arms. — O Music, how many murders have been com- 
 mitted in thy name ! — Queen Victoria's home at Windsor. — 
 A new "house that Jack built." — The Pound Tower. — Stoke 
 Pogis. — Frogmore. — The Knights of the Garter. — The 
 queen's gallery. — The queen's plate. — The royal mews. — 
 The wicker baby- wagons. — The state equipages. . . . 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 
 
 The Tower. — The tall Yankee of inquiring mind. — Our guide 
 in gorgeous array. — War trophies. — Knights in armor. — 
 A professional joke. — The crown jewels — The room where 
 the little princes were smothered. — The "Traitor's Gate." — 
 The Houses of Parliament. — What a throne is like. — The 
 " woolsack." — The Peeping Gallery for ladies. — Westminster 
 Hall and the law courts. — The three drowsy old women. — 
 The Great Panjandrum himself. — Johnson and the pump. — 
 St. Paul's. — Wellington's funeral car. — The Whispering 
 Gallery.— The bell 55 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AWAY TO PARIS. 
 
 The wedding party. — The canals. — New Haven. — Around the 
 tea-table. — Separating the sheep from the goats. — " Will it 
 
CONTENTS. 9 
 
 be a rough passage ? " — Gymnastic feats of the little steamer. 
 
 — 0, what were officers to us? — "Who ever invented ear- 
 rings ?" — Dieppe. — Fish- wives. — Train for Paris. — Fellow- 
 passengers. — Rouen. — Babel. — Deliverance. . .68 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PARIS OF 1869. 
 
 The devil. — Cathedrals and churches. — The Louvre. — Mod- 
 ern French art. — The Beauvais clock, with its droll, little 
 puppets. — Virtue in a red gown. — The Luxembourg Palace. 
 
 — The yawning statue of Marshal Ney. — Gay life by gas- 
 light. — The Imperial Circus. — The Opera — How the em- 
 peror and empress rode through the streets after the riots. — 
 The beautiful Spanish woman whose face was her fortune. — 
 Napoleon's tomb 76 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITY. 
 
 The Gobelin tapestry. — How and where it is made. — Pere La- 
 Chaise. — Poor Rachel ! — The baby establishment. — " Now 
 I lay me." — The little mother. — The old woman who lived 
 in a shoe. — The American chapel. — Beautiful women and 
 children. — The last conference meeting. — "I'm a proof- 
 reader, I am." 90 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SHOW PLACES IN THE SUBURBS OF PARIS. 
 
 The river omnibuses. — Sevres and its porcelain. — St. Cloud as 
 it was. — The crooked little town. — Versailles. — Eugenie's 
 " spare bedroom." — The queen who played she was a farmer's 
 w jf e . _ Seven miles of paintings. —The portraits of the presi- 
 dents 100 
 
10 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 
 
 To Brussels. — The old and new city. — The paradise and purga- 
 tory of dogs. — The Hotel de Ville and Grand Place. — St. 
 Gudule. — The picture galleries. — Wiertz and his odd paint- 
 ings. — Brussels lace and an hour with the lace-makers. — 
 How the girls found Charlotte Bronte's school. — The scene 
 of " Villette." 109 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 
 
 To Waterloo. — Beggars and guides. — The Mound. — Chateau 
 Hougomont. — Victor Hugo's " sunken road." — Antwerp. — 
 A visit to the cathedral. — A drive about the city. — An ex- 
 cursion to Ghent. — The funeral services in the cathedral. — 
 " Poisoned ? Ah, poor man ! " — The watch-tower. — The 
 Friday-market square. — The nunnery. — Longfellow's pil- 
 grims to " the belfry of Bruges." 122 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 
 
 Up the Meuse to Rotterdam. — Dutch sights and ways. — The 
 pretty milk-carriers. — The tea-gardens. — Preparations for 
 the Sabbath. —An English chapel. — " The Lord's barn." — 
 From Rotterdam to the Hague. — The queen's " House in the 
 Wood." — Pictures in private drawing-rooms. — The bazaar. 
 — An evening in a Dutch tea-garden. — Amsterdam to a 
 stranger. — The " sights." — The Jews' quarter. — The family 
 whose home was upon the canals. — Out of the city. — The 
 pilgrims 134 
 
CONTENTS. 11 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 
 
 First glimpse of the Rhine. — Cologne and the Cathedral. — 
 "Shosef in ter red coat." — St. Ursula and the eleven thou- 
 sand virgins. — Up the Rhine to Bonn. — The German stu- 
 dents. — Rolandseck. — A search for a resting-place. — Our 
 Dutch friend and his Malays. — The story of Hildegund. — 
 A quiet Sabbath. — Our Dutch friend's reply. — Coblentz. — 
 The bridge of boats. — Ehrenbreitstein, over the river. — A 
 scorching day upon the Rhine. — Romance under difficulties. 
 
 — Mayence. — Frankfort. — Heidelberg. — The ruined castle. 
 
 — Baden-Baden. — A glimpse at the gambling. — The new 
 and the old " Schloss." — The Black Forest. — Strasbourg. — 
 The mountains. 147 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DAYS IN SWITZERLAND. 
 
 The Lake of Lucerne. — Days of rest in the city. — An excur- 
 sion up the Righi. — The crowd at the summit. — Dinner at 
 midnight. — Rising before "the early worm." — The "sun- 
 rise " according to Murray. — Animated scarecrows. — Off for 
 a tour through Switzerland. — The lake for the last time. — 
 Griitlii. — William Tell's chapel. — Fluellen. — Altorf. — Swiss 
 haymakers. — An hour at Amsteg. — The rocks close in.— 
 The Devil's Bridge. —The dangerous road. — " A carriage has 
 gone over the precipice! " — Andermatt. — Desolate rocks. — 
 Exquisite wild flowers. — The summit of the Furka. — A de- 
 scent to the Rhone glacier. — Into the ice. — Swiss villages. — 
 Brieg. — The convent inn. — The bare little chapel on the hill. 
 — To Martigny 168 
 
12 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 
 
 The quaint inn. — The Falls of the Sallenches, and the Gorge 
 de Trient. — Shopping in a Swiss village. — A mule ride to 
 Chamouni. — Peculiarities of the animals. — Entrance to the 
 village. — Egyptian mummies lifted from the mules. — Rainy 
 days. — Chamois. — The Mer de Glace. — " Look out of your 
 window." — Mont Blanc. — Sallenches. — A diligence ride to 
 Geneva. — Our little old woman. — The clownish peasant.— 
 The fork in the road. — " Adieu." 189 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LAST DAYS IN SWITZERLAND. 
 
 Geneva. — Calvin and jewelry. — Up Lake Leman. — Ouchy and 
 Lausanne. — " Sweet Clarens." — Chillon. — Freyburg. — Sight- 
 seers. — The Last Judgment. — Berne and its bears. — The 
 town like a story. — The Lake of Thun. — Interlaken. — Over 
 the "VVengern Alp. — The Falls of Giessbach. — The Brunig 
 Pass. — Lucerne again 201 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 
 
 Coming home. — The breaking up of the party. — "We start 
 for Paris alone. — Basle, and a search for a hotel. — The 
 twilight ride. — The shopkeeper whose wits had gone " a 
 wool-gathering." — "Two tickets for Paris." — What can be 
 the matter now ? — Michel Angelo's Moses. — Paris at mid- 
 night. — The kind commissionaire. — The good French gentle- 
 man and his fussy little wife. — A search for Miss H.'s. — 
 " Come up, come up." — " Can women travel through Europe 
 alone ? " A word about a woman's outfit 220 
 
AN 
 
 AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ABOARD THE STEAMER. 
 
 We two alone. — " Good by." — " Are you the captain of this 
 ship?" — Wretchedness. — The jolly Englishman and the 
 Yankee. — A sail ! — The cattle-man. — The Jersey-man whose 
 bark was on the sea. — Church services under difficulties. — 
 The sweet young English face. — Down into the depths to 
 worship. — "Beware! I stand by the Parson." — Singing 
 to the fishes. — Green Erin. — One long cheer. — Farewell 
 Ireland. 
 
 E were going to Europe, Mrs. K. and I — 
 alone, with the exception of the ship's com- 
 pany-- unprotected, save by Him who watches over 
 the least of his creatures. We packed our one trunk, 
 upon which both name and nationality were conspicu- 
 ously blazoned, with the necessaries, not luxuries, of a 
 woman's toilet, and made our simple preparations for 
 departure without a shadow of anxiety. " They who 
 know nothing, fear nothing," said the paterfamilias, 
 but added his consent and blessing. The rain poured 
 in torrents as we drove down to the wharf. But 
 
 13 
 
14 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 floods could not have dampened our enthusiasm. A 
 wild Irishman, with a suggestion of spirituous things in 
 his air and general appearance, received us at the foot 
 of the plank, one end of which touched earth, the other 
 that unexplored region, the steamer. We followed the 
 direction of his dirty finger, and there fell from our 
 eyes, as it Avere, scales. In our ignorance, we had ex- 
 pected to find vast space, elegant surroundings, glass, 
 glare, and glitter. We peered into the contracted quar- 
 ters of the ladies' cabin. One side was filled with 
 boxes and bundles ; the other, with the prostrate form 
 of an old lady, her head enveloped in a mammoth ruf- 
 fle. We explored the saloon. The purser, with a wen 
 and a gilt-banded cap on his head, was flying about like 
 one distracted. An old gentleman similarly attired, 
 with the exception of the wen, — the surgeon as we af- 
 terwards learned, — read a large book complacently in 
 one corner, murmuring gently to himself. His upper 
 teeth lacked fixity, so to speak ; and as they fell with 
 every word, he had the appearance of gnashing them 
 continually at the invisible author. There was a hurry- 
 ing to and fro of round, fresh-faced stewards in short 
 jackets, a pushing and pulling of trunks and boxes, the 
 sudden appearance and disappearance of nondescript 
 individuals in slouched hats and water-proofs, the stir- 
 ring about of heavy feet upon the deck above, the rat- 
 tling of chains, the 'yo-ing' of hoarse voices, as the 
 sailors pulled at the ropes, and, with it all, that sicken- 
 ing odor of oil, of dead dinners — of everything, so in- 
 describable, so never-to-be-forgotten. Somewhat sad- 
 dened, and considerably enlightened upon the subject 
 of ocean steamers, we sought our state-room. It 
 
ABOARD THE STEAMER. 15 
 
 boasted two berths (the upper conveniently gained by 
 mounting the stationary wash-stand), and a velvet-cov- 
 ered sofa beneath the large, square window, which last 
 we learned, months later, when reduced to a port-hole 
 for light and air, to appreciate. A rack and half a 
 dozen hooks against the wall completed its furniture. 
 
 The time of departure arrived. We said the two 
 little words that bring so many tears and heartaches, 
 and ran up on the deck with the rain in our faces, and 
 something that was not all rain in our eyes, for one 
 last look at our friends ; but they were hidden from 
 sight. There comes to me a dim recollection of at- 
 tempting to mount to an inaccessible place: of 
 clinging to wet ropes with the intention of seeing the 
 last of the land; of thinking it, after a time, a senseless 
 proceeding, and of resigning ourselves finally to our 
 berths and inevitable circumstances. Eight bells and 
 the dinner bell; some one darkened our doorway. 
 
 " What's this ? Don't give it up so. D'ye hear the 
 dinner bell ? " 
 
 " Are — are you the captain of this ship ? " gasped 
 Mrs. K., feebly, from the sofa. 
 
 " To be sure, madam. Don't give it up so." 
 
 Mrs. K. groaned. There came to me one last gleam 
 of hope. What if it were possible to brave it out ! In 
 a moment my feet were on the floor, but whether my 
 name were McGregor, or not, I could not tell. I made 
 an abortive attempt after the pretty hood, prepared 
 with such pleasant anticipations, and had a dim con- 
 sciousness that somebody's hands tied it about my 
 head. Then we started. We climbed heights, we de- 
 scended depths indescribable, in that short walk to the 
 
16 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 saloon, and there was a queer feeling of having a wind- 
 mill, instead of a head, upon my shoulders. A number 
 of sympathizing faces were nodding in the most re- 
 markable manner, as we reached the door, and the 
 tables performed antic evolutions. 
 
 " Take me back ! " and the berth and the little round 
 stewardess received me. There followed a night of 
 misery. One can form no idea, save from experience, 
 of the horrors of the first night upon an ocean steamer. 
 There are the whir, and buzz, and jar, and rattle, and 
 bang of the screw and engine; the pitching and rolling 
 of the ship, with the sensation of standing upright for 
 a moment, and then of being made to rest comfortably 
 upon the top of your head; the sense of undergoing in- 
 ternal somersaults, to say nothing of describing every 
 known curve externally. You study physiology invol- 
 untarily, and doubt if your heart, your lungs, or indeed 
 any of your internal organs, are firmly attached, after 
 all; if you shall not lose them at the next lurch of 
 the ship. Your head is burning with fever, your hands 
 and feet like ice, and you feel dimly, but wretchedly, 
 that this is but the beginning of sorrows ; that there are 
 a dozen more days to come. You are conscious of a 
 vague wonder (as the night lengthens out intermina- 
 bly) what eternity can be, since time is so long. The 
 bells strike the half hours, tormenting you with calcula- 
 tions which amount to nothing. Everything within 
 the room, as well as without, swings, and rolls, and 
 rattles. You are confident your bottles in the rack 
 will go next, and don't much care if they do, though 
 you lie and dread the crash. You are tormented 
 with thirst, and the ice-water is in that same 
 
ABOARD THE STEAMER. 17 
 
 rack, just beyond your reach. The candle in its silver 
 case, hinged against the wall, swings back and forth 
 with dizzy motion, throwing moving distorted shad- 
 ows over everything, and making the night like a 
 sickly day. You long for darkness, and, when at last 
 the light grows dim, until only a red spark remains 
 and the smoke that adds its mite to your misery, 
 long for its return. At regular intervals you hear the 
 tramp, tramp, overhead, of the relieving watch ; and, 
 in the midst of fitful slumbers, the hoarse voices of 
 the sailors, as the wind freshens and they hoist the 
 sails, wake you from frightful dreams. At the first gray 
 dawn of light come the swash of water and the tric- 
 kling down of the stream against your window, with the 
 sound of the holy-stones pushed back and forth upon 
 the deck. And with the light — O, blessed light! — 
 came to us a dawn of better things. 
 
 There followed days when we lay contented upon the 
 narrow sofa, or within the contracted berths, but when 
 to lift our heads was woe. A kind of negative blessed- 
 ness — absence from misery. We felt as if we had lost 
 our heart, our conscience, and almost our immortal r 
 soul, to quote Mark Tw r ain. There remained to us 
 only those principles and prejudices most firmly 
 rooted and grounded. Even our personal vanity left 
 us at last, and nothing could be more forsaken and ap- 
 propriate than the plain green gown with its one row of 
 military buttons, attired in which, day after day, I idly 
 watched 'the faces that passed our door. "That's like 
 you Americans," said our handsome young Irish doc- 
 tor, pointing to these same buttons. " You can't leave 
 your country without taking the spread-eagle with you!" 
 2 
 
18 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Our officers, with this one exception, were English. 
 Our captain, a living representative of the traditional 
 English sailor. Not young, save in heart; simple, 
 unaffected, and frank in manner, but with a natural 
 dignity that prevented undue familiarity, he sang about 
 the ship from morning till night, with a voice that 
 could carry no air correctly, but with an enjoyment de- 
 lightful to witness — always a song suggested by exist- 
 ing circumstances, but with 
 
 " Cheer, boys, cheer; my mother's sold her mangle," 
 
 when everything else failed. He was forward among 
 the men on the deck with an eye to the wind, down 
 below bringing fruit and comfort to the sick in the 
 steerage, dealing out apples and oranges to the chil- 
 dren, with an encouraging word and the first line of a 
 song for everybody. 
 
 The life of the ship was an Englishman, with the 
 fresh complexion almost invariably seen upon Eng- 
 lishmen, and forty years upon a head that looked 
 twenty-five. He was going home after a short tour 
 through the United States, with his mind as full of 
 prejudices as his memorandum-book was of notes. He 
 chanced, oddly enough, to room with the genuine 
 Yankee of the company — a long, lean, good-natured in- 
 dividual from one of the eastern states, " close on ter 
 Varmont," who had a way of rolling his eyes fearfully, 
 especially when he glared at his food. He represented 
 a mowing machine company, and we called him " the 
 Mowing Machine Man." He accosted us one day, si- 
 dling up to our door, with, " How d'ye do to-day ? " 
 
 " Better, thank you," I replied from the sofa. 
 
ABOARD THE STEAMER. 19 
 
 " That's real nice. Tell ye what, we'll be glad to see 
 the ladies out. How's yer mar?" nodding towards 
 the berth from which twinkled Mrs. K.'s eyes. I 
 laughed, and explained that our relations were of affec- 
 tion rather than consanguinity. His interest increased 
 when he found we were travelling alone. He gave us 
 his London address, evidently considering us in the light 
 of Daniels about to enter the lions' den. "Ef ye have 
 any trouble," said he, as he wrote down the street and 
 number, " there's one Yankee'll "stand up for ye." He 
 amused the Englishman by calling out, " Hullo. D'ye 
 feel good this morning ? " " No," would be the reply, 
 with a burst of laughter ; " I feel awful wicked ; think 
 I'll go right out and kill somebody." 
 
 There was a shout one morning, "A sail! Seethe 
 stars and stripes ! " I had not raised my head for 
 days, but staggered across the floor at that, and cling- 
 ing to the frame, thrust my head out of the window. 
 Yes, there was a ship close by, with the stars and 
 stripes floating from the mast-head, I found, when the 
 roll of the steamer carried my window to its level. 
 " Seems good ter see the old rag ! " I looked up to find 
 the Mowing Machine Man gazing upon it with eyes all 
 afloat. " I'd been a thinking," said he, " all them fel- 
 lers have got somebody waiting for 'em over there," — 
 our passengers were mostly English, — "but there 
 wasn't nobody a waiting for me. Tell ye what," — and 
 he shook out the folds of a red and yellow handker- 
 chief, — " it does my heart good ter see the old flag." 
 There was a bond of sympathy between us from that 
 moment. 
 
 We had another and less agreeable specimen of 
 
20 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 this free people — a tall, tough western cattle dealer, 
 who quarrelled if he could find an antagonist, swore 
 occasionally, drank liquor, and chewed tobacco perpet- 
 ually, wore his trousers tucked into his long boots, his 
 hands tucked into his pockets, and, to crown these 
 attributes, believed in Andrew Johnson! — a middle- 
 aged man, with soft, curling brown hair above a 
 face that could be cruelly cold and hard. His hair 
 should have been wire ; his blue eyes were steel. But 
 hard as was his face, it softened and smoothed itself a 
 little at sight of the sick women. He paused beside 
 us one day with a rough attempt to interest and 
 amuse by displaying a knife case containing a dozen 
 different articles. " This is ter take a stun out of a 
 hoss's hufj and this, d'ye see, is a tooth-pick ; " putting 
 it to immediate use by way of explanation. At the 
 table he talked long and loud uppn the rinderpest, and 
 other kindred and ajjpetizing topics. "I've been a 
 butcher myself," he would say. "I've cut up hundreds 
 o' critters. What part of an ox, now, d'ye think that 
 was taken from?" pointing to the joint before him, 
 and addressing a refined, delicate-faced old gentleman 
 across the table, who only stared in silent horror. 
 
 But even the " Cattle Man " was less marked in 
 his peculiarities than the " Jersey Man," a melancholy- 
 eyed, curly-wigged individual from the Jersey shore, 
 who wore his slouched hat upon one side of his head, 
 and looked as though he were doing the rakish lover 
 in some fifth-rate theatre; who was "in the musical 
 line myself; Smith and Jones's organs, you know; 
 that's me ; " and who, being neither Smith nor Jones, we 
 naturally concluded must be the organ. He recited 
 
ABOARD THE STEAMER, 21 
 
 poetry in a loud tone at daybreak, and discussed politics 
 for hours together, arguing in the most satisfactory 
 manner with the principles, and standing most will- 
 ingly upon the platform, of everybody. He assumed a 
 patronizing air towards the Mowing Machine Man. 
 " Well, you are a green Yankee," he would say ; " lucky 
 for you that you fell in with me ; " to which the latter 
 only chuckled, " That's so." He had much to tell of 
 himself, of his grandmother, and of his friends generally, 
 who came to see him off; "felt awfully, too," which we 
 could hardly credit; rolled out snatches of sentimental 
 songs, iterating and reiterating that his bark was on 
 the sea, — and a most disagreeable one we found it; 
 wished we had a piano on board, to which we mur- 
 mured, " The Lord forbid ; " and hoped we should soon 
 be well enough to join him in the " White Squall." He 
 was constantly reminding us that w r e were a very 
 happy family party, so " congenial," and evidently 
 agreed with the Mowing Machine Man, who said, 
 " They're the best set of fellows I ever see. They'll 
 tell ye anything." 
 
 We numbered a clergyman among us, of course. 
 " Always a head wind when there's a parson aboard," 
 say the sailors. So this poor dyspeptic little man 
 bore the blame of our constant adverse winds. Noth- 
 ing more bigoted, more fanatical than his religious be- 
 lief could be imagined. You read the terrors of the 
 Lord in his eye ; and yet he won respect, and some- 
 thing more, by his consistency and zeal. Earnestness 
 will tell. " The parson will have great influence over 
 the Cattle Man," the captain said, Sabbath morning, 
 as we were walking the deck. "The Cattle Man?" 
 
22 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 "Yes, the parson will get a good hold of him." Just 
 then, as if to prove the old proverb true, that his 
 satanic majesty is always in the immediate neighbor- 
 hood when his character is under discussion, the Cat- 
 tle Man and Jersey came up the companion-way. " If 
 you please, captain," said the former, " we are a com- 
 mittee to ask if the parson may preach to the steerage 
 people to-night." " Certainly," was the reply ; " I will 
 attend myself." They thanked him, and went below, 
 leaving me utterly amazed. They were the last men 
 upon the ship whom one would have selected as a 
 committee upon spiritual things ! 
 
 The church service for the cabin passengers was held 
 in the saloon. A velvet cushion upon one end of the 
 long table constituted the pulpit, before which the min- 
 ister stood, holding fast to the rack on either side, and 
 bracing himself against the captain's chair in the rear. 
 Even then he made, involuntarily, more bows than any 
 ritualist, and the scripture, " What went ye out for to 
 see ? A reed shaken by the wind ? " would present itself. 
 The sailors in their neat dress filed in and ranged 
 themselves in one corner. The stewards gathered 
 about the door, one, with face like an owl, most 
 conspicuous. The passengers filled their usual seats, 
 and a delegation from the steerage crept shyly into 
 the unoccupied space — women with shawls over 
 their heads and babies in their arms, shock-headed 
 men and toddling children, but all with an evident at- 
 tempt at appropriate dress and manner. Among them 
 was one sweet young English face beneath an old 
 crape bonnet. A pair of shapely hands, which the 
 shabby black gloves could not disguise, held fast a lit- 
 
ABOARD THE STEAMER. 23 
 
 tie child. Widowhood and want in the new world ; 
 what was waiting her in the old? The captain read 
 the service, and all the people responded. The 
 women's eyes grew wet at the sound of the familiar 
 words. The little English widow bent her face over 
 the head of the child in her lap, and something glis- 
 tened in its hair. Our sympathies grew wide, and we 
 joined in the prayer for the queen, that she might have 
 victory over her enemies, and even murmured a re- 
 sponse to the petition for Albert Edward and the no- 
 bility, dimly conscious that they needed prayers. The 
 good captain added a petition for the president of the 
 United States, to which the Mowing Machine Man and 
 I said, "Amen." Then the minister, having poised 
 himself carefully, read a discourse, sulphurous but sin- 
 cere; the Mowing Machine Man thrusting his elbow 
 into my side in a most startling manner at every par- 
 ticularly blue point. We, were evidently in sympathy; 
 but I could have dispensed with the expression of it. 
 We closed with the doxology, standing upon our 
 feet and swaying back and forth as though it had been 
 a Shaker chant, led by an improvised choir and the 
 Jersey Man. 
 
 At night we descended into the depths of the steam- 
 er to worship with the steerage passengers. It was 
 like one of Rembrandt's pictures — the darkness, the 
 wild, strangely-attired people, the weird light from the 
 lanterns piercing the gloom, and bringing out group 
 after group with fearful distinctness ; the pale, earnest 
 face of the preacher, made almost unearthly by the glare 
 of the yellow light — a face with its thin-drawn lips, its 
 eyes like coals of fire such as the flames of martyrdom lit 
 
24 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 once, I imagine. Close beside him stood the Cattle 
 Man, towering like Saul above the people, and with an 
 air that plainly said, " Beware — I stand by the parson." 
 
 " There is a land of pure delight," 
 
 repeated the minister; and in a moment the words rolled 
 out of the Cattle Man's mouth while he beckoned with 
 his long arm for the people to rise. Throwing back 
 his head, he sang with an unction undescribable, verse 
 after verse, caught doubtless at some western camp- 
 meeting, where he had tormented the saints. One after 
 another took up the strain. Clear and strong came the 
 tones from every dark corner, until, like one mighty 
 voice, while the steamer rolled and the waves dashed 
 against its sides, rose the words 
 
 " Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, 
 Shall fright us from that shore." 
 
 A great stillness fell upon the people as the minister 
 gave out his text, and began his discourse. He had 
 lacked freedom in the saloon, but here he forgot every- 
 thing save the words given him; hard words they 
 seemed to me, containing little of the love of God. I 
 glanced at the Mowing Machine Man, who had made a 
 seat of half a barrel under the stairs. He winked in a 
 fearful manner, as though he would say, "Just see how 
 he's a goin' on ! " But the people received it gladly. 
 One after another of the sailors crept down the stairs 
 and stood in the shadow. I watched them curiously. 
 It may be that this stern, hard doctrine suited these 
 stern, hard men. It made me shudder. 
 
 But the record of all these days would have no end. 
 How can I tell of the long, happy hours, when more 
 
ABOARD THE STEAMER. 25 
 
 than strength, when perfect exhilaration, came to us ; 
 when existence alone was a delight? To sit upon the low 
 wheel-house, with wraps and ribbons and hair flying in 
 the wind, while we sang, — 
 
 " O, a life on the ocean wave ! " 
 
 to admiring fishes ; to watch the long, lazy swell of the 
 sea, or the spray breaking from the tops of the white 
 caps into tiny rainbows ; to walk the rolling deck for 
 hours with never a shadow of weariness ; to cling to the 
 flag-staff when the stern of the ship rose in the air then 
 dropped like a heavy stone into the sea, sending the 
 sju'ay far over and above us ; to count the stars at night, 
 watching the other gleaming phosphorescent stars that 
 seemed to have fallen from heaven upon the long wake 
 of the steamer, — all this was a delight unspeakable. 
 
 One morning, when the land seemed a forgotten 
 dream, we awoke to find green Erin close beside us. 
 All the day before the sea-gulls had been ' hovering 
 over us — beautiful creatures, gray above and white 
 beneath, clouds with a silver lining. Tiny land birds, 
 too, flew about us, resting wearily upon the rigging. 
 The sea all at once became like glass. It seemed like 
 the book of Revelation when the sun shone on it, — 
 the sea of class mingled with fire. For a time the land 
 was but a line of rock, with martello towers perched 
 upon the points. On the right, Fastnet Rock rose out 
 of the sea, crowned with a light-house ; then the gray 
 barren shore of Cape Clear Island, and soon the sharp- 
 pointed Stag Rocks. It is a treacherous coast. "I've 
 been here many a night," said the captain, as he 
 gave us his glass, "when I never expected to see 
 
26 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 morning." And all the while he was speaking, the sea 
 smiled and smiled, as though it could never be cruel. 
 
 We drew nearer and nearer, until we could see 
 the green fields bounded by stone walls, the white, 
 winding roads, and little villages nestling among the 
 hills. Towards noon the lovely harbor of Queens- 
 town opened before us, surrounded and almost shut 
 in by rocky islands. Through the glass we could 
 see the city, with its feet in the bay. We were no 
 longer alone. The horizon was dotted with sails. 
 Sometimes a steamer crossed our wake, or a ship bore 
 down upon us. We hoisted our signals. We dipped 
 our flag. The sailors were busy painting the boats, 
 and polishing the brass till it shone again. Now the 
 tender steams out from Queenstown. The steerage 
 passengers in unwonted finery, tall hats and unearthly 
 bonnets, and one in a black silk gown, are running 
 about forward, shaking hands, gathering up boxes 
 and bundles, and pressing towards the side which the 
 tender has reached. There are the shouting of orders, 
 the throwing of a rope, and in a moment they are 
 crowding the plank. One long cheer, echoed from 
 the stern of our steamer, and they are off. 
 
 All day we walked the deck ; even the sick crawled up 
 at last to see the panorama. We still lingered when 
 night fell, and we had turned away from the land to strike 
 across the channel, and the picture rests with me now ; 
 the purple sky with one long stretch of purple, hazy 
 cloud, behind which the sun went down ; the long, low 
 line of purple rock, our last glimpse of Ireland, and 
 the shining, purple sea, with not a ripple upon its sur- 
 face. 
 
FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 27 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FIRST DAYS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Up the harbor of Liverpool. — We all emerge as butterflies. — 
 The Mersey tender. — Lot's wife. — " Any tobacco ? " — 
 "Names, please." — St. George's Hall. — The fashionable 
 promenade. — The coffee-room. — The military man who 
 showed the purple tide of war in his face. — The railway 
 carriage. — The young man with hair all aflame — English 
 villages. — London. — No place for us. — The H. house. — 
 The Babes in the Wood. — The party from the country. — 
 We are taken in charge by the Good Man. — The Goldon 
 Cross. — Solitary confinement. — Mrs. B.'s at last. 
 
 E steamed up the harbor of Liverpool the next 
 morning. New Brighton, with its green ter- 
 races, its Chinese-pagoda villas, spread out upon one 
 side, upon the other that solid wall of docks, the barri- 
 cade that breaks the constant charges of the sea, with 
 the masts of ships from every land for an abattis. The 
 wraps and shapeless garments worn so long were laid 
 aside; the pretty hood which had, like charity, covered 
 so many sins of omission, hidden, itself, at last, the 
 soft wool stiffened with the sea spray, the bright colors 
 dimmed by smoke, and soot, and burning sun. We crept 
 shyly upon the deck in our unaccustomed finery, as 
 though called at a moment's notice to play another 
 
28 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 woman's part, half-learned. Not in us alone was the 
 transformation. The girl in blue had blossomed into a 
 a bell — a blue bell. The Cattle Man, his hands re- 
 leased at last from the thraldom of his pockets, stalked 
 about, funereal, in wrinkled black. A solferino neck-tie 
 and tall hat of a pre-Adamite formation transmogrified 
 our Mowing Machine friend. Nondescripts, that had 
 lain about the deck wrapped in cocoons of rugs and 
 shawls, emerged suddenly — butterflies! A painful 
 courtesy seized us all. We had doffed the old familiar 
 intercourse with our sea-gnrments. We gathered in 
 knots, or stood apart singly, mindful at last of our 
 dignity. 
 
 The Mersey tender (a tender mercy to some) puffed 
 out to meet us, and we descended the plank as those 
 who turn away from home, leaving much of our 
 thoughts, and something of our hearts, within the 
 ship. It had been such a place of rest, of blessed 
 idleness ! Only when our feet touched the wharf did 
 we take up the burden of life again. There were the 
 meeting of friends, in which we had no part; the mael- 
 strom of horses, and carts, and struggling humanity, in 
 which we found a most unwilling place; and then we 
 followed fast in the footsteps of the Mowing Machine 
 Man, who in his turn followed a hair-covered trunk 
 upon the shoulders of a stout porter, our destination the 
 custom-house shed close by. For a moment, as we 
 were tossed hither and thither by the swaying mass, 
 our desires followed our thoughts to a certain sheltered 
 nook, upon a still, white deck, with the sunbeams 
 slanting down through the furled sails above, with the 
 lazy, lapping sea below, and only our own idle thoughts 
 for company. Then we remembered Lot's wife. 
 
FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 29 
 
 There was a little meek-faced custom-house officer 
 in waiting, with a voice so out of proportion to his 
 size, that he seemed to have hired it for the occasion, 
 or come into it with his uniform by virtue of his office. 
 " Any tobacco ? " he asked, severely, as we lifted the 
 lid of our one trunk. We gave a virtuous and indig- 
 nant negative. That was all. We might go our sev- 
 eral ways now unmolested. One fervent expression of 
 good wishes among our little company, while we make 
 for a moment a network of clasped hands, and then we 
 pass out of the great gates into our new world, and into 
 the clutches of the waiting cabmen. By what stroke 
 of good fortune we and our belongings were consigned 
 to one and the same cab, in the confusion and terror 
 of the moment, we did not know at the time. It was 
 clearly through the intervention of a kind fellow-pas- 
 senger, who, seeing that amazement enveloped us like 
 a garment, kindly took us in charge. The dazed, as 
 well as the lame and lazy, are cared for, it seems. By 
 what stroke of o-ood fortune we ever reached our desti- 
 nation, we knew still less. Our cab was a triumph of 
 impossibilities, uncertainties, and discomfort. Our at- 
 tenuated beast, like an animated hoop skirt, whose 
 bones were only prevented, by the encasing skin, 
 from flying off as we turned the corners, experienced 
 hardly less difficulty in drawing his breath than in 
 drawing his load. We descended at the entrance to 
 the hotel as those who have escaped from imminent 
 peril. We mounted the steps — two lone, but by no 
 means lorn, damsels, two anxious, but by no means 
 aimless females, knowing little of the world, less of 
 travelling, and nothing whatever of foreign ways. Our 
 
30 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 very air, as we entered the door, was an apology for 
 the intrusion. 
 
 " Names, please," said the smiling man in waiting, 
 opening what appeared to be the book of fate. We 
 added ours to the long list of pilgrims and strangers 
 who had sojourned here, dotting our i's and crossing 
 our t's in the most elegant manner imaginable. If any 
 one has a doubt as to our early advantages, let him ex- 
 amine the record of the Washington Hotel, Liverpool. 
 The heading, "Remarks," upon the page, puzzled us. 
 Were they to be of a sacred or profane nature? Of an 
 autobiographical character? Were they to refer to the 
 dear land we had just left? Through some political 
 throes she had just brought forth a ruler. Should we 
 add to the IT. S. against our names, " As well as could 
 be expected"? We hesitated, — and wrote nothing. 
 Up the wide stairs, past the transparency of Washing- 
 ton — in the bluest of blue coats, the yellowest of top 
 boots, and an air of making the best of an unsought 
 and rather ridiculous position — we followed the doily 
 upon the head of the pretty chambermaid to our wide, 
 comfortable room, with its formidable, high-curtained 
 beds. The satchels and parcels innumerable were 
 propped carefully into rectitude upon the dressing 
 table, under the impression that the ship would give 
 a lurch ; and then, gazing out through the great plate 
 glass windows upon the busy square below, we endeav- 
 ered to compose our perturbed minds and gather our 
 scattered wits. 
 
 It is not beautiful, this great city of Liverpool, creep- 
 ing up from the sea. It has little to interest a stranger 
 aside from its magnificent docks and warehouses. 
 
FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 31 
 
 There are mammoth truck horses from Suffolk, with 
 feet like cart wheels ; there is St. George's Hall, the 
 pride of the people, standing in the busy square of the 
 same name, with a statue of the saint himself — a ter- 
 ror to all dragons — just before it. It is gray, many col- 
 umned, wide stepped, vast in its proportions. Do you 
 care for its measurement? Having seen that, you are 
 ready to depart ; and, indeed, there is nothing to detain 
 one here beyond a day of rest, a moment to regain 
 composure after the tossing of the sea. There are some 
 substantial dwellings, — for commerce has its kings, — 
 and some fine shops, — for commerce also has its 
 queens, — and one fine drive, of which we learned too 
 late. The air of endurance, which pervades the whole 
 city, as it does all cities in the old world, impresses one 
 greatly, as though they were built for eternity, not 
 time ; the founders having forgotten that here we are 
 to have no continuing city. In the new world, man 
 tears down and builds up. Every generation moulds 
 and fashions its towns and cities after its own desires, 
 or to suit its own means. Man is master. In the old 
 world, one generation after another surges in and out 
 of these grim, gray walls, leaving not so much as the 
 mark the waves leave upon the rocks. Unchanged, 
 unchanging, they stand age after age, time only soften- 
 ing the hard outlines, deepening the shadows it has 
 cast upon them, and so bringing them into a likeness 
 of each other that they seem to have been the design 
 of one mind, the work of one pair of hands, and hardly 
 of mortal mind or hands at that. They seem to say to 
 man, "We have stood here ages before you were born. 
 We shall stand here ages after you are forgotten." 
 
32' AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 They must be filled with echoes, with ghosts, and 
 haunting memories. 
 
 Bold Street, a tolerably narrow and winding way, in 
 which many are found to walk, — contrary to all prece- 
 dent, — boasts the finest shops. Here the Lancashire 
 witches, as the beauties of the county are called, walk, 
 and talk, and buy gewgaws of an afternoon. It was 
 something strange to us to see long silken skirts en- 
 tirely destitute of crinoline, ruffle, or flounce, trailed 
 here through mud and mire, or raised displaying 
 low Congress gaiters, destitute of heels. For our- 
 selves, if we had been the king of the Cannibal Islands, 
 we could hardly have attracted more attention than 
 we did in our plain, short travelling suits and high- 
 heeled boots. It grew embarrassing, especially when 
 our expression of unqualified benevolence drew alter 
 us a train of beggars. They crossed the street to meet 
 us. They emerged from every side street and alley, 
 thrusting dirty hands into our faces, and repeating 
 twice-told tales in our ears, until we were thankful 
 when oblivion and the shadow of the hotel fell 
 upon us. 
 
 We dined in the coffee-room, — that comfortable and 
 often delightfully cosy apartment fitted with little 
 tables, and with its corner devoted to books, to papers 
 and conversation, — that combination of dining, tea and 
 reading-room unknown to an American hotel, — sacred 
 to the sterner sex from all time, and only opened to us 
 within a few years, — the gates being forced then, I 
 imagine, by American women, who will not consent to 
 hide their light under a bushel, or keep to some far- 
 away corner, unseeing and unseen. English women, 
 
FIRST DAI'S IN ENGLAND. 33 
 
 as a rule, take their meals in their own private parlors. 
 Perhaps because English men generally desire the flow- 
 ers intrusted to their fostering care to blush unseen. 
 It may be better for the gardeners ; it may be better for 
 the flowers — I cannot tell ; but we dined in the coffee- 
 room, as Americans usually do. One of the clergymen, 
 who attend at such places, received our order. It was 
 not so very formidable an affair, after all, this going 
 down by ourselves ; or would not have been, if the big- 
 eyed waiter, who watched our every movement, would 
 have left us, and the military man at the next table, 
 who showed "the purple tide of war," or something 
 else, in his face, and blew his nose like a trombone, 
 ceased to stare. As it was, we aired our most elegant 
 table manners. We turned in our elbows and turned 
 out our toes, — so to speak, — and ate our mutton with a 
 grace that destroyed all appetite. We tried to appear 
 as though we had frequently dined in the presence of 
 a whole battalion of soldiery, under the scrutiny of in- 
 numerable waiters, — and failed, I am sure. " With 
 verdure clad " was written upon every line of our 
 faces. The occasion of this cross fire we do not know 
 to this day. Was it unbounded admiration ? Was it 
 spoons ? 
 
 Having brushed off the spray of the sea, having 
 balanced ourselves upon the solid earth, having seen 
 St. George's Hall, there was nothing to detain us 
 longer, and the next morning we were on our way to 
 London. We had scrutinized our bill, — which might 
 have been reckoned in pounds, ounces, and penny- 
 weights, for aught we knew to the contrary, — and in- 
 formed the big-eyed waiter that it was correct. We 
 3 
 
34 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 had also offered him imploringly our largest piece of 
 silver, which he condescended to accept; and having 
 been presented with a ticket and a handful of silver 
 and copper by the porter who accompanied us to the 
 station across the way, in return for two or three gold 
 pieces, we shook off the dust of Liverpool from our 
 feet, turned our eyes from the splendors of St. George's 
 Hall, and set our faces steadfastly towards our destina- 
 tion. There was a kind of luxury, notwithstanding our 
 prejudices, in this English railway carriage, with its 
 cushions all about us, even beneath our elbows ; a rest- 
 fulness unknown in past experience of travel, in the 
 ability to turn our eyes away from the flying landscape 
 without, to the peaceful quiet, never intruded upon, 
 within. We did not miss the woman who will insist 
 upon closing the window behind you, or opening it, as 
 the case may be. Not one regret had we for the 
 "B-o-s-t-o-n papers ! " nor for the last periodical or novel. 
 The latest fashion gazette was not thrown into our lap 
 only to be snatched away, as we became interest- 
 ed in a plan for rejuvenating our wardrobe; nor were 
 we assailed by venders of pop corn, apples, or gift 
 packages of candy. Even the blind man, with his 
 offering of execrable poetry, was unknown, and the 
 conductor examined our tickets from outside the win- 
 dow. Settling back among our cushions, while we 
 mentally enumerated these blessings of omission, there 
 came a thought of the perils incurred by solitary fe- 
 males locked into these same comfortable carriages 
 with madmen. If the danger had been so great for 
 one solitary female, what must it be for two, we 
 thought with horror. We gave a quick glance at our 
 
FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 35 
 
 fellow-passenger, a young man with hair all aflame. 
 Certainly his eyes did roll at that moment, but it was 
 only in search of a newsboy; and when he exclaimed, 
 like any American gentleman, "Hang the boy!" we 
 became perfectly reassured. He proved a most agree- 
 able travelling companion. We exchanged questions 
 and opinions upon every subject of mutual interest, 
 from the geological formation of the earth to the 
 Alabama claims. I can hardly tell which astonished 
 us most, his profound erudition or our own. Now, I 
 have not the least idea as to whether Lord John Rus- 
 sell sailed the Alabama, or the Alabama sailed of itself, 
 spontaneously ; but, whichever way it was, I am con- 
 vinced it was a most iniquitious proceeding, and so 
 thought it safe to take high moral ground, and assure 
 him that as a nation we could not allow it to go un- 
 punished. You have no idea what an assistance it is, 
 when one is somewhat ignorant and a good deal at 
 a loss for arguments, to take high moral ground. 
 
 When we were weary of discussion, when knowl- 
 edge palled upon our taste, we pulled aside the little 
 blue curtain, and gave ourselves up to gazing upon the 
 picture from the window. I doubt if any part of Eng- 
 land is looked upon with more curious eyes than that 
 lying between Liverpool and London. It is to so many 
 Americans the first glimpse of strange lands. Spread 
 out in almost imperceptible furrows were the velvet 
 turfed meadows, the undipped hedges, a mass of 
 tangled greenness between. For miles and miles they 
 stretched away, with seldom a road, never a solitary 
 house. The banks on either side were tufted with 
 broom and yellow with gorse; the hill-sides in the 
 
36 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 distance, white with chalk, or black with the heather 
 that would blossom into purple beauty with the sum- 
 mer. We rushed beneath arches festooned, as for a 
 gala-day, with hanging vines. Tiny gardens bloomed 
 beside the track at every station, and all along the 
 walls, the arched bridges, and every bit of stone upon 
 the wayside, was a mass of clinging, glistening ivy. 
 Not the half-dead, straggling thing we tend and shield 
 so carefully at home, with here and there a leaf put 
 forth for very shame. These, bright, clear-cut, deep- 
 tinted, crowded and overlapped each other, and ran 
 riot over the land, transforming the dingy, mildewy 
 cottages, bits of imperishable ugliness, into things of 
 beauty, if not eternal joys. Not in the least picturesque 
 or pleasing to the eye were these English villages ; 
 straggling rows of dull red brick houses set amidst 
 the fields — dirty city children upon a picnic — with a 
 foot square garden before each door, cared for possibly, 
 possibly neglected. A row of flower-pots upon the 
 stone ledge of every little window, a row of chimney- 
 pots upon the slate roof of every dwelling. Sometimes 
 a narrow road twisted and writhed itself from one to 
 another, edged by high brick walls, hidden beneath a 
 weight of ivy; sometimes romantic lanes, shaded by 
 old elms, and green beyond all telling. The towns 
 were much the same, — outgrown villages. And the 
 glimpse we caught, as we flew by, so far above the 
 roofs often that we could almost peep down upon the 
 hearths through the chimney tops, was by no means 
 inviting. 
 
 Dusk fell upon us with the smoke, and mist, and driz- 
 zling rain of London, bringing no anxiety ; for was there 
 
FIRST DAI'S IN ENGLAND. 37 
 
 not, through the though tfulness of friends, a place 
 prepared for us ? Our pleasant acquaintance of the 
 golden locks forsook his own boxes, and bundles, and 
 innumerable belongings to look for our baggage, and 
 saw us safely consigned to one of the dingy cabs in 
 waiting. I trust the people of our own country repay 
 to wanderers there something of the kindness which 
 American women, travelling alone, receive at the hands 
 of strangers abroad. It was neither the first nor the 
 last courtesy proffered most respectfully, and received 
 in the spirit in Which it was offered. There is a deal 
 of nonsense in the touch-me-not air with which many 
 go out to see the world, as there is a deal of folly in 
 the opposite extreme. But these acquaintances of a 
 day, the opportunity of coming face to face with the 
 people in whose country you chance to be, of hearing 
 and answering their strange questions in regard to 
 our government, our manners and customs, as well as in 
 displaying our own ignorance in regard to their insti- 
 tutions, in giving information and assistance when it is 
 in our power, and in gratefully receiving the same 
 from others, — all this constitutes one of the greatest 
 pleasures of journeying. 
 
 Our peace of mind received a rude shock, when, 
 after rattling over the pavings around the little park 
 in Queen's Square, and pulling the bell at Mr. B.'s 
 boarding-house, we found that we were indeed ex- 
 pected, but indefinitely, and no place awaited us. We 
 had forgotten to telegraph. It was May, the Lon- 
 don season, and the hotels full. "X. told us you 
 were coming," said the most lady-like landlady, lead- 
 ing us into the drawing-room from the dank darkness 
 
38 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 of the street. There was a glow of red-hot coals in 
 the grate, a suggestion of warmth and comfort in the 
 bright colors and cosy appointments of the room — 
 but no place for us. " I'm very sorry ; if you had tele- 
 graphed — but we can take you by Monday certainly," 
 she said. I counted my fingers. Two days. Ah! 
 but we might perish in the streets before that. Every- 
 thing began to grow dark and doleful in contemplation. 
 Some one entered the room. The landlady turned to 
 him : " O, here is the good man to whose care you were 
 consigned by X." We gave a sigh of relief, as we 
 greeted the Good Man, for all our courage, like the 
 immortal Bob Acres's, had been oozing from our finger 
 ends. And if we possess one gift above another, it 
 is an ability to be taken care of. "Do you know 
 X. ? " asked another gentleman, glancing up from his 
 writing at the long, red-covered table. "We trav- 
 elled with him," nodding towards his daughter, whose 
 feet touched the fender, "through Italy, last winter." 
 "Indeed—" 
 
 " I'll just send out to a hotel near by," interrupted 
 kind Mrs. B., " and see if you can be accommodated a 
 day or two." How very bright the room became ! The 
 world was not hollow, after all, nor our dolls stuffed 
 with sawdust. Even the cabman's rattle at the 
 knocker, and demand of an extra sixpence for waiting, 
 could not disturb our serenity. The messenger re- 
 turned. Yes ; we could be taken in (?) at the H. house ; 
 and accepting Mrs. B.'s invitation to return and spend 
 the evening, we mounted to our places in the little 
 cab, as though it had been a triumphal car, and were 
 whizzed around the corner at an alarming pace by the 
 impatient cabman. 
 
FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 39 
 
 I should be sorry to prejudice any one against the 
 H. house — which I might perhaps say is not the H. 
 house at all ; I hardly like to compare it to a whited 
 sepulchre, though that simile did occur to my mind. 
 Very fair in its exterior it was, with much plate glass, 
 and ground glass, and gilding of letters, and shining 
 of brass. It had been two dwelling-houses; it was 
 now one select family hotel. But the two dwelling- 
 houses had never been completely merged into one ; 
 never married, but joined, like the Siamese twins. 
 There was a confusing double stairway ; having as- 
 cended the right one, you were morally certain to de- 
 scend the wrong. There was a confusing double hall, 
 with doors in every direction opening everywhere but 
 upon the way you desired to go. We mounted to the 
 top of the house, followed by two porters with our lug- 
 gage, one chambermaid with the key, another to ask 
 if we would dine, and two more bearing large tin cans 
 of hot water. We grew confused, and gasped, "We 
 — we believe we don't care for any more at present, 
 thank you," and so dismissed them all. The furniture 
 was so out of proportion to the room that I think it 
 must have been introduced in an infant state, and grown 
 to its present proportions there. The one window 
 was so high that we were obliged to jump up to look 
 out over the mirror upon the bureau — a gymnastic feat 
 we did not care to repeat. The bed curtains were 
 gray; indeed there was a gray chill through the whole 
 place. We sat down to hold a council of war. We 
 resolved ourselves into a committee of ways and 
 means, our feet upon the cans of hot water. " Pleas- 
 ant," I said, as a leading remark, my heart beginning 
 
40 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 to warm under the influence of the hot water. " Pleas- 
 ant?" repeated Mrs. K.; "it's enough to make one 
 homesick. We can't stay here." " But," I interposed, 
 "suppose we leave here, and can't get in anywhere 
 else ? " A vision of the Babes in the Wood rose be- 
 fore me. There was a rap at the door; the fourth 
 chambermaid, to announce dinner. We finished our 
 consultation hurriedly, and descended to the parlor, 
 where we were to dine. It was a small room, already 
 occupied by a large table and a party from the country; 
 an old lady to play propriety, a middle-aged person of 
 severe countenance to act it, and a pair of incipient 
 and insipid lovers. He was a spectacled prig in a 
 white necktie, a clergyman, I suppose, though he looked 
 amazingly like a waiter, and she a little round combi- 
 nation of dimples and giggle. 
 
 He. " Have you been out for a walk this morn- 
 ing ? " 
 
 She. "No; te-he-he-he." 
 
 He. " You ought to, you know." 
 
 She. " Te-he-he-he — yes." 
 
 He. " You should always exercise before dinner." 
 
 She. "Te-he-he-he." 
 
 Here the words gave out entirely, and, it being re- 
 markably droll, all joined in the chorus. " We must 
 go somewhere else, if possible," we explained to Mrs. 
 B., when, a little later, we found our way to her door. 
 " At least we shall be better contented if we make the 
 attempt." The Good Man offered his protection; we 
 found a cab, and proceeded to explore the city, asking 
 admittance in vain at one hotel after another, until at 
 last the Golden Cross upon the Strand, more charitable 
 
FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 41 
 
 than its neighbor, or less full, opened its doors, and the 
 good landlady, of unbounded proportions, made us both 
 welcome and comfortable. Quite palatial did our neat 
 bed-room, draped in white, appear. We were the proud 
 possessors, also, of a parlor, with a round mirror over 
 the mantel, a round table in the centre, a sofa, of which 
 Pharaoh's heart is no comparison as regards hardness, 
 a row of stiff, proper arm-chairs, and any amount of or- 
 namentation in the way of works of art upon the walls, 
 and shining snuffers and candlesticks upon the mantel. 
 Our bargain completed, there remained nothing to be 
 done but to remove our baggage from the other house, 
 which I am sure we could never have attempted 
 alone. Think of walking in and addressing the land- 
 lady, while the chambermaids and waiters peeped from 
 behind the doors, with, "We don't like your house, 
 madam. Your rooms are tucked up, your beds uninvit- 
 ing, your chambermaids frowsy, your waiters stupid, 
 and your little parlor an abomination." How could 
 we have done it? The Good Man volunteered. " But 
 do you not mind?" "Not in the least." Is it not 
 wonderful ? How can we believe in the equality of 
 the sexes ? In less than an hour we were temporarily 
 settled in our new quarters, our rescued trunks con- 
 signed to the little bed-room, our heart-felt gratitude 
 in the possession of the Good Man. 
 
 We took our meals now in our own parlor, trying 
 the solitary confinement system of the English during 
 our two days' stay. It seemed a month. Not a sign of 
 life was there, save the landlady's pleasant face behind 
 the bar and the waiter who answered our bell, with the 
 exception of a pair of mammoth shoes before the next 
 
42 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 door, mornings, and the bearded face of a man that star- 
 tled us, once, upon the stairs. And yet the house was 
 full. It was a relief when our two days of banishment 
 were over, when in Mrs. B.'s pretty drawing-room, and 
 around her table, we could again meet friends, and real- 
 ize that we were still in the world. 
 
EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 EXCURSIONS FBOM LONDON". 
 
 Strange ways. — " The bears that went over to Charlestown." — 
 The delights of a runaway without its dangers. — Flower 
 show at the Crystal Palace. — Whit-Monday at Hampton 
 Court. — A queen baby. — " But the carpets ? " — Poor Nell 
 Gwynne. — Vandyck faces. — Royal beds. — Lunch at the 
 King's Arms. — O Music, how many murders have been com- 
 mitted in thy name ! — Queen Victoria's home at Windsor. — 
 A new " house that Jack built." — The Round Tower. — Stoke 
 Pogis. — Frogmore. — The Knights of the Garter. — The 
 queen's gallery. — The queen's plate. — The royal mews. — 
 The wicker baby-wagons. — The state equipages. 
 
 E bought an umbrella, — everyone buys an 
 umbrella who goes to London, — and this, in 
 its alpaca glory, became our constant companion. We 
 purchased a guide-book to complete our equipments ; 
 but so disreputable, so yellow-covered, was its outward 
 appearance, so suggestive of everything but facts, that 
 we consigned it to oblivion, and put ourselves under 
 the guidance of our Boston friends, the Good Man and 
 his family. 
 
 For two busy weeks we rattled over the flat pavings 
 of the city in the low, one-horse cabs. We climbed 
 towers, we descended into crypts, we examined tomb- 
 
44 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 stones, we gazed upon mummies. Everything was 
 new, strange, and wonderful, even to the little boys in 
 the street, who, as well as the omnibus drivers, were 
 decked out in tall silk hats — a piece of absurdity in 
 one case, and extravagance in the other, to our minds. 
 The one-horse carriages rolled about upon two wheels ; 
 the occupants, like cross children, facing in every direc- 
 tion but the one they were going, and everybody, con- 
 trary to all our preconceived ideas of law and order, 
 turned to the left, instead of to the right, — to say 
 nothing of other strange and perplexing ways that 
 came under our observation. We had come abroad 
 upon the same errand as the bears who " went over to 
 Charlestown to see what they could see," and so stared 
 into every window, into every passing face, as though 
 we were seeking the lost. We became known as the 
 women who wanted a cab ; our appearance within the 
 iron posts that guard the entrance to Queen's Square 
 from Southampton Row being the signal for a per- 
 fect Babel of unintelligible shouts and gesticulations 
 down the long line of waiting vehicles, with the char- 
 ging down upon us of the first half dozen in a highly 
 dangerous manner. Wisdom is sometimes the growth 
 of days ; and we soon learned to dart out in an un- 
 expected moment, utterly deaf and blind to everything 
 and everybody but the first man and the first- horse, 
 and thus to go off in triumph. 
 
 But if our exit was triumphant, what was our entry 
 to the square, when weary, faint with seeing, hearing, 
 and trying in vain to fix everything seen and heard in 
 our minds, we returned in a hansom ! English ladies 
 do not much affect this mode of conveyance, but Amer- 
 
EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 45 
 
 ican women abroad have, or take, a wide margin in 
 matters of mere conventionality, — and so ride in han- 
 som cabs at will. They are grown-up baby perambu- 
 lators upon two wheels ; the driver sitting up behind, 
 where the handle would be, and drawing the reins of 
 interminable length over the top of the vehicle. Pic- 
 ture it in your mind, and then wonder, as I did, what 
 power of attraction keeps the horse upon the ground ; 
 what prevents his flying into the air when the driver 
 settles down into his seat. A pair of low, folding 
 doors take the place of a lap robe ; you dash through 
 the street at an alarming rate without any visible 
 guide, experiencing all the delights of a runaway 
 without any of its dangers. 
 
 FLOWER SHOW AT THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 
 
 A ride by rail of half an hour takes one to Syden- 
 ham. It is a charming walk from the station through 
 the tastefully arranged grounds, with their shrubberies, 
 roseries, and fountains, along the pebble-strewn paths, 
 crowded this clay with visitors. The palace itself is so 
 like its familiar pictures as to need no description. 
 Much of the grandeur of its vast proportions within is 
 Most by its divisions and subdivisions. There are 
 courts representing the various nations of the earth, — 
 America, as usual, felicitously and truthfully shown up 
 by a pair of scantily attired savages under a palm 
 tree; there are the courts of the Alhambra, of Nin- 
 eveh, and of Pompeii ; there are fountains, and statues, 
 and bazaars innumerable, where one may purchase al- 
 most anything as a souvenir; there are cafes where 
 one may refresh the body, and an immense concert 
 
46 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 hall where one may delight the soul, — and how much 
 more I cannot tell, for the crowd was almost beyond 
 belief and a much more interesting study than Egyp- 
 tian remains, or even the exquisite mass of perfumed 
 bloom, that made the air like summer, and the whole 
 place a garden. They were of the English middle 
 class, the upper middle class, bordering upon the no- 
 bility, — these rotund, fine-looking gentlemen in white 
 vests and irreproachable broadcloth, these stout, red- 
 faced, richly-attired ladies, with their soft-eyed, angular 
 daughters following in their train, or clinging to their 
 arms. We listened for an hour to the queen's own 
 band in scarlet and gold, and then came back to town, 
 meeting train after train filled to overflowing with ex- 
 pensively arrayed humanity in white kids, going out 
 for the evening. 
 
 A DAY AT HAMPTON COURT. 
 
 It was Whit-Monday, — the workingman's holiday, 
 
 — a day of sun and shower; but we took our turn 
 upon the outside of the private omnibus chartered for 
 the occasion, unmindful of the drops ; our propelling 
 power, six gray horses. By virtue of this private es- 
 tablishment we were free to pass through Hyde Park, 
 
 — that breathing-place of aristocracy, where no public 
 vehicle, no servant without livery, is tolerated. It was 
 early, and only the countless hoof- prints upon Rotten 
 Row suggested the crowd of wealth and fashion that 
 would throng here later in the day. One solitary 
 equestrian there was ; perched upon a guarded saddle, 
 held in her place by some concealed band, serenely 
 content, rode a queen baby in long, white robes. A 
 
EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 47 
 
 groom led the little pony. She looked at us in grave 
 wonder as we dashed by, — born to the purple ! I can- 
 not begin to describe to you the rising up of London 
 for this day of pleasure ; the decking of itself out in 
 holiday attire ; the garnishing of itself with paper flow- 
 ers ; the smooth, hard roads leading into the country, 
 all alive; the drinking, noisy crowd about the door 
 of every pot-house along the way. It was a delightful 
 drive of a dozen or more miles, through the most 
 charming suburbs imaginable, — past lawns, and gar- 
 dens, and green old trees shading miniature parka ; 
 past " detached " villas that had blossomed into win- 
 dows; indeed, the plate glass upon houses of most 
 modest pretension was almost reckless extravagance 
 in our eyes, forgetting, as we did, the slight duty to 
 be paid here upon what is, with us, an expensive 
 luxury. No wonder the English are a healthful 
 people, — the sun shines upon them. I like their man- 
 ner of house-building, of home-making. They set up 
 first a great bay-window, with a room behind it, which 
 is of secondary importance, with wide steps leading up 
 to a door at the side. They fill this window with the 
 rarest, rosiest, most rollicksome flowers. Then, if there 
 remain time, and space, and means, other rooms are 
 added, the bay-windows increasing in direct propor- 
 tion ; while shades, drawn shades, are a thing un- 
 known. " But the carpets ? " They are so foolish as 
 to value health above carpets. 
 
 It was high noon when we rolled up the wide ave- 
 nue of Bushey Park, with its double border of gigantic 
 chestnuts and limes, through Richmond Park, with its 
 vast sweep of greensward flecked with the sunbeams, 
 
48 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 dripping like the rain through the royal oaks, past 
 Richmond terrace, with its fine residences looking out 
 upon the Thames, the translucent stream, pure and beau- 
 tiful here, before going down to the city to be denied — 
 like many a life. We dismounted at the gates to the 
 palace, in the rambling old village that clings to its 
 skirts, and joined the crowd passing through its wide 
 portals. 
 
 It is an old palace thrown aside, given over to poor 
 relatives, by royalty, — as'we throw aside an old gown ; 
 a vast pile of dingy, red brick that has straggled over 
 acres of Hampton parish, and is kept within bounds by 
 a high wall of the same ugly material. It has pushed 
 itself up into towers and turrets, with pinnacles and 
 spires rising from its battlemented walls. It has thrust 
 itself out into oriel and queer little latticed windows that 
 peep into the gardens and overhang the three quad- 
 rangles, and is with its vast gardens and park, with its 
 wide canal and avenues of green old trees, the most 
 delightfully ugly, old place imaginable. Here kings 
 and queens have lived and loved, suffered and died, 
 from Cardinal Wolsey's time down to the days of 
 Queen Anne. It is now one of England's show places ; 
 one portion of its vast extent, with the grounds, being 
 thrown open to the public, the remainder given to de- 
 cayed nobility, or wandering, homeless representatives 
 of royalty, — a kind of royal almshouse, in fact. A 
 curtained window, the nutter of a white hand, were to 
 us the only signs of inhabitation. 
 
 Through thirty or more narrow, dark, bare rooms, — 
 bare but for the pictures that crowded the walls, — we 
 wandered. There were two or three halls of stately 
 
EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 49 
 
 proportions finely decorated with frescoes by Verrio, 
 and one or two royal stairways, up and down which 
 slippered feet have passed, silken skirts trailed, and 
 heavy hearts been carried, in days gone by. The 
 pictures are mostly portraits of brave men and lovely 
 women, of kings and queens and royal favorites, — 
 poor Nell Gwynne among them, who began life by 
 selling oranges in a theatre, and ended it by selling vir- 
 tue in a palace. The Vandyck faces are wonderfully 
 beautiful. They gaze upon you through a mist, a gold- 
 en haze, — like that which hangs over the hills in the 
 Indian summer, — from out deep, spiritual eyes ; a 
 dream of fair women they are. 
 
 There were one or two royal beds, where uneasy 
 have lain the heads that wore a crown, and half a 
 dozen chairs worked in tapestry by royal fingers, — 
 whether preserved for their questionable beauty, or be- 
 cause of the rarity of royal industry, I do not know. 
 We wandered through the shrubberies, paid a penny to 
 see the largest grape vine in the world, — and washed 
 we had given it to the heathen, so like its less distin- 
 guished sisters did the vine appear, — and at last lunched 
 at the King's Arms, a queer little inn just outside the 
 gates, edging our way with some difficulty through the 
 noisy, guzzling crowd around the door — the crowd that, 
 having reached the acme of the day's felicity, was fast 
 degenerating into a quarrel. In the long, bare room 
 at the head of the narrow, winding stairs, we found 
 comparative quiet. The tables were covered with joints 
 of beef, with loaves of bread, pitchers of ale, and the 
 ubiquitous cheese. A red-faced young man in tight 
 new clothes — like a strait-jacket — occupied one end 
 4 
 
50 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 of our table with his blushing sweetheart. A band 
 of wandering harpers harped upon their harps to the 
 crowd of wrangling men and blowsy women in the 
 open court below ; strangely out of tune were the harps, 
 out of time the measure, according well with the spirit 
 of the hour. A loud-voiced girl decked out in tawdry 
 finery, with face like solid brass, sang "Annie Laurie" 
 in hard, metallic tones, — O Music, how many murders 
 have been committed in thy name ! — then passed a 
 cup for pennies, with many a jest and rude, bold laugh. 
 We were glad when the day was done, — glad when 
 we had turned away from it all. 
 
 queen Victoria's home at Windsor. 
 
 The castle itself is a huge, battlemented structure of 
 gray stone, — a fortress as well as a palace, — with a 
 home park of five hundred acres, the private grounds 
 of Mrs. Guelph, and, beyond that, a grand park of eigh- 
 teen hundred acres. But do not imagine that she lives 
 here with only her children and servants about her, — 
 this kindly German widow, whose throne was once in 
 the hearts of her people. Royalty is a complicated 
 affair, — a wheel within a wheel, — and reminds us of 
 nothing so much as " the house that Jack built." 
 
 This is the Castle of Windsor. 
 
 This is the queen that lives in the Castle of Windsor. 
 
 These are the ladies that 'tend on the queen that 
 lives in the Castle of Windsor. 
 
 These are the pages that bow to the ladies that 'tend 
 on the queen that lives in the Castle of Windsor. 
 
 These are the lackeys that wait on the pages that 
 bow to the ladies that 'tend on the queen that lives in 
 the Castle of Windsor. 
 
EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 51 
 
 These are the soldiers, tried and sworn, that guard 
 the crown from the unicorn, that stand by the lackeys 
 that wait on the pages that bow to the ladies that 'tend 
 on the queen that lives in the Castle of Windsor. 
 
 These are the "military knights" forlorn, founded by 
 Edward before you were born, that outrank the sol- 
 diers, tried and sworn, that guard the crown from the 
 unicorn, that stand by the lackeys that wait on the 
 pages that bow to the ladies that 'tend on the queen 
 that lives in the Castle of Windsor. 
 
 These are the knights that the garter have worn, 
 with armorial banners tattered and torn, that look 
 down on the military knights forlorn, founded by Ed- 
 ward before you were born, that outrank the soldiers, 
 tried and sworn, that guard the crown from the unicorn, 
 that stand by the lackeys that wait on the pages that 
 bow to the ladies that 'tend on the queen that lives in 
 the Castle of Windsor. 
 
 This is the dean, all shaven and shorn, with the 
 canons and clerks that doze in the mom, that install 
 the knights that the garter have worn, with armorial 
 banners tattered and torn, that look down on the mili- 
 tary knights forlorn, founded by Edward before you 
 were born, that outrank the soldiers, tried and sworn, 
 that guard the crown from the unicorn, that stand by 
 the lackeys that wait on the pages that bow to the la- 
 dies that 'tend on the queen that lives in the Castle of 
 Windsor. 
 
 And so on. The train within the castle walls that 
 follows the queen is endless. 
 
 We passed through the great, grand, state apart- 
 ments, refurnished at the time of the marriage of the 
 
52 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Prince of Wales, for the use of the Danish family. 
 We mounted to the battlements of the Round Tower 
 by the hundred steps, the grim cannon gazing xlown 
 upon us from the top. Half a dozen visitors were al- 
 ready there, gathered as closely as possible about the 
 angular guide, listening to his geography lesson, and 
 looking off upon the wonderful panorama of park, and 
 wood, and winding river. Away to the right rose the 
 spire of Stoke Pogis Church, where the curfew still 
 " tolls the knell of parting day." To the left, in the 
 great park below, lay Frogmore, where sleeps Prince 
 Albert the Good. Eton College, too, peeped out from 
 among the trees, its gardens touching the Thames, and 
 in the distance, — beyond the sleeping villages tucked 
 in among the trees, — the shadowy blue hills held 
 up the sky. 
 
 St. George's Chapel is in the quadrangle below. It is 
 the chapel of the Knights of the Garter. And now, when 
 you read of the chapels, or churches, or cathedrals in the 
 old world, — and they are all in a sense alike, — pray 
 don't imagine a New England meeting-house with a 
 double row of stiff pews and a choir in the gallery sing- 
 ing " Antioeh" ! The body of the chapel was a great, 
 bare space, with tablets and elaborate monuments 
 against the walls. Opening from this were alcoves, — 
 also called chapels, — each one containing the tombs and 
 monuments of some family. As many of the inscriptions 
 are dated centuries back, you can imagine they are 
 often quaintly expressed. One old knight, who died 
 in Catholic times, desired an open Breviary to remain 
 always in the niche before his tomb, that passers 
 might read to their comfort, and say for him an orison. 
 
EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 53 
 
 Of course this would never do in the days when the 
 chapel fell into Protestant hands. A Bible was sub- 
 stituted, chained into its place; but the old inscription, 
 cut deep in the stone, still remains, beginning " Who 
 leyde thys book here ? " with a startling appropriate- 
 ness of which the author never dreamed. Over an- 
 other of these chapels is rudely cut an ox, an N", and a 
 bow, — the owner having, in an antic manner, hardly 
 befitting the place, thus written his name — Oxenbow. 
 You enter the choir, where the installations take 
 place, by steps, passing under the organ. In the 
 chancel is a fine memorial window to Prince Albert. 
 On either side are the stalls or seats for the knights, 
 with the armorial banner of each hanging over his place. 
 Projecting over the chancel, upon one side, is what ap- 
 pears to be a bay-window. This is the queen's gallery, 
 a little room with blue silk hangings, — for blue is the 
 color worn by Knights of the Garter, — where she sits 
 during the service. Through these curtains she looked 
 down upon the marriage of the Prince of Wales. Think 
 of being thus put away from everybody, as though one 
 were plague-stricken. A private station awaits her 
 when she steps from the train at the castle gates. A 
 private room is attached to the green-houses, to the 
 riding-school in the park, and even to the private 
 chapel. A private photograph-room, for the taking of 
 the royal pictures, adjoins her apartments. It must be 
 a fine thing to be a queen, — and so tiresome! Even 
 the gold spoon in one's mouth could not offset the wea- 
 riness of it all, and of gold spoons she has an unbound- 
 ed supply ; from ten to fifteen millions of dollars 
 worth of gold pfate for her majesty's table being guard- 
 ed within the castle ! Think of it, little women who 
 
54 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 set up house-keeping with half a dozen silver tea- 
 spoons and a salt-spoon ! 
 
 We waited before a great gate until the striking of 
 some forgotten hour, to visit the royal mews. You 
 may walk through all these stables in slippers and in 
 your daintiest gown, without fear. A stiff young man 
 in black — a cross between an undertaker and an in- 
 cipient clergyman in manner — acted as guide. Other 
 parties, led by other stiff young men, followed or 
 crossed our path. There were stalls and stalls, upon 
 either side, in room after room, — for one could not 
 think of calling them stables, — filled by sleek bays for 
 carriage or saddle. And the ponies! — the dear little 
 shaggy browns, with sweeping tails, and wonderful 
 eyes peeping out from beneath moppy manes, the milk- 
 white, tiny steeds, with hair like softest silk, — they 
 won our hearts. Curled up on the back of one, fast 
 asleep, lay a Maltese kitten ; the "royal mew" some 
 one called it. The carriages were all plain and dark, 
 for the ordinary use of the court. In one corner a prim 
 row of little yellow, wicker, baby-wagons attracted our 
 attention, like those used by the poorest mother in the 
 land. In these the royal babies have taken their first 
 airings. 
 
 The state equipages we saw another day at Bucking- 
 ham Palace, — the cream-colored horses, the carriages 
 and harnesses all crimson and gold. There they stand, 
 weeks and months together, waiting for an occasion. 
 The effect upon a fine day, under favoring auspices, — 
 the sun shining, the bands playing, the crowd of gazers, 
 the prancing horses, the gilded chariots, — must almost 
 equal the triumphal entry of a first class circus into a 
 New England town ! 
 
SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON 55 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 
 
 The Tower. — The tall Yankee of inquiring mind. — Our guide 
 in gorgeous array. — War trophies. — Knights in armor. — 
 A professional joke. — The crown jewels. — The house where 
 the little princes were smothered. — The " Traitor's Gate." — 
 The Houses of Parliament. — What a throne is like. — The 
 "woolsack." — The Peeping Gallery for ladies. — Westminster 
 Hall and the law courts. — The three drowsy old women. — 
 The Great Panjandrum himself. — Johnson and the pump. — 
 St. Paul's. — Wellington's funeral car. — The Whispering 
 Gallery. — The bell. 
 
 THE TOWER. 
 
 IT is not a tower at all, as we reckon towers, you 
 must know, but a walled town upon the banks of 
 the Thames, in the very heart of London. Hundreds 
 of years ago, when what is now this great city was only 
 moor and marsh, the Romans built here — a castle, 
 perhaps. Only a bit of crumbling wall, of mouldering 
 pavement, remains to tell the story. When the Nor- 
 mans came in to possess the land, William the Con- 
 queror erected upon this spot a square fortress, with 
 towers rising from its four corners. Every succeeding 
 monarch added a castle, a tower, a moat, to strengthen 
 its strength and extend its limits, until, in time, it cov- 
 ered twelve acres of land, as it does to this day. Here 
 
56 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 the kings and queens of England lived in comfortless 
 state, until the time of Queen Elizabeth, haA'ing need 
 to be hedged about with something more than royalty 
 to insure safety. Times have changed; swords have 
 been beaten into ploughshares ; and where the moat 
 once encircled the tower wall, flowers blossom now. 
 The dungeons that for centuries held prisoners of state 
 confine only criminals to-day; and the strongholds 
 that guarded the person of England's sovereign keep 
 in safety now, the jewels and the crown. There are 
 round towers, and square towers, and, for anything I 
 know, three-cornered towers, each with its own history 
 of horrors. There are windows from which people 
 were thrown, bridges over which they were dragged, 
 and dark holes in which they were incarcerated. 
 
 To appreciate all this, you should see it — as we did 
 one chilly May morning. We huddled about the stove 
 in the waiting-room upon the site of the old royal 
 menagerie, our companions a round man, with a limp 
 gingham cravat and shabby coat, a little old woman 
 in a poke bonnet, and half a dozen or more school- 
 boys from the country. A tall Yankee of inquiring 
 mind joined us as we sallied from the door, led by a 
 guide gorgeous in ruff and buckles, cotton velvet and 
 gilt lace, and with all these glories surmounted by a 
 black hat, that swelled out at the top in a wonderful 
 manner. Down the narrow street within the gates, 
 over the slippery cobble-stones, under considerable 
 mental excitement, and our alpaca umbrella, we fol- 
 lowed our guide to an archway, before which he paused, 
 and struck an attitude. The long Yankee darted for- 
 ward. " Stand back, my friends, stand back," said the 
 
^WW [\V\SV5_MV<=.^\* 
 
 "A dozen umbrellas were tipped up; the ram fell fast upon a dozen 
 upturned, expectant faces." Page 57. 
 
SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 57 
 
 guide. " You will please form a circle." Immediately 
 a dozen umbrellas surrounded him. He pointed to a 
 narrow window over our heads ; li dozen umbrellas 
 were tipped up; the rain fell fast upon a dozen up- 
 turned, expectant faces. "In that room, Sir " 
 
 (I could not catch the name) " spent the night before 
 his execution, in solemn meditation and prayer." 
 There was a circular groan of sympathy and approval 
 from a dozen lips, the re-cant of a dozen dripping 
 umbrellas, and we pattered on to the next point of 
 interest, following our leader through pools of blood, 
 figuratively speaking, — literally, through pools of wa- 
 ter, — our eyes distended, our cheeks pale with horror. 
 Ah, what treasures of credulity we must have been to 
 the guides in those days ! Time brought unbelief and 
 hardness of heart. 
 
 We mounted stairs narrow and dark ; we descended 
 stairs dark and narrow ; we entered chambers gloomy 
 and grim. The half I could not tell — of the rooms 
 filled with war trophies — scalps in the belt of the na- 
 tion — from the Spanish Armada down to the Sepoy 
 rebellion ; the long hall, with its double row of lumber- 
 ing old warriors encased in steel, as though they had 
 stepped into a steel tower and walked off, tower and 
 all, some fine morning ; the armory, with its stacked 
 arms for thirty thousand men. " We may have occa- 
 sion to use them," said the guide, facetiously, making 
 some reference to the speech of Mr. Sumner, just then 
 acting the part of a stick to stir up the British lion. 
 The Yankee chuckled complacently, and we, too, re- 
 fused to quake. There was a room filled with instru- 
 ments of torture, diabolical inventions, recalling the 
 
58 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 days of the Inquisition. The Yankee expressed a de- 
 sire to " see how some o' them things worked." Open- 
 ing from this was an unlighted apartment, with walls 
 of stone, a dungeon indeed, in which we were made to 
 believe that Sir Walter Raleigh spent twelve years of 
 his life. No shadow of doubt would have fallen upon 
 our unquestioning minds, had we been told that he 
 amused himself during this time by standing upon his 
 head. " Walk in, walk in," said the smiling guide, as 
 we peered into its darkness. We obeyed. "Now," 
 said he, " that you may appreciate his situation, I will 
 step out and close the door." The little old woman 
 screamed; the Yankee made one stride to the opening; 
 the guide laughed. It was only a professional joke ; 
 there was no door. We saw the bare prison-room, 
 with its rough fireplace, the slits between the stones 
 of the wall to admit light and air, and the initials of 
 Lady Jane Grey, with a host more of forgotten names, 
 upon the walls. Just outside, within the quadrangle, 
 where the grass grew green beneath the summer rain, 
 she was beheaded, — poor little innocent, — who had 
 no desire to be a queen ! In another tower close by, 
 guarded by iron bars, were the royal jewels and the 
 crown, for which all this blood was shed — pretty bau- 
 bles of gold and precious stones, but hardly worth so 
 many lives. 
 
 You remember the story of the princes smothered 
 in the Tower by command of their cruel uncle ? There 
 was the narrow passage in the wall where the murder- 
 ers came at night ; the worn step by which they entered 
 the great, bare room where the little victims slept; 
 the winding stairs down which the bodies were 
 
SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 59 
 
 thrown. Beneath the great stone at the foot they were 
 secretly buried. Then the stairway w r as walled up, 
 lest the stones should cry out ; and no one knew 
 the story of the burial until long, long afterwards 
 — only a few years since — when the walled-up 
 stairway was discovered, the stones at the foot dis- 
 placed, and a heap of dust, of little crumbling bones, 
 revealed it. A rosy-faced, motherly woman, the wife 
 of a soldier quartered in the barracks here, answered 
 the rap of the guide upon the nail-studded door open- 
 ing from one of the courts, and told us the old story. 
 " The bed of the princes stood just there," she said, 
 pointing to one corner, where, by a curious coincidence, 
 a little bed was standing now. She answered the ques- 
 tion in our eyes with, "My boys sleep there." But do 
 you not fear that the murderers will come back some 
 night by this same winding way, and smother them ? " 
 How she laughed ! And, indeed, what had ghosts to do 
 with such a cheery body ! 
 
 Down through the " Traitors' Gate," with its spiked 
 portcullis, we could see the steps leading to the water. 
 Through this gate prisoners were brought from trial 
 at Westminster. It is said that the Princess Elizabeth 
 was dragged up here when she refused to come of her 
 own will, knowing too well that they who entered here 
 left hope behind. A little later, with music and the 
 waving of banners, and amid the shouts of the people, 
 she rode out of the great gates into the city, the Queen of 
 England. 
 
 THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 
 
 Though they have stood barely thirty years, already 
 the soft gray limestone begins to crumble away, — the 
 
60 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 elements, with a sense of the fitness of things, striving 
 to act the part of time, and bring them into a likeness 
 of the adjoining abbey. There is an exquisite beauty 
 in the thousand gilded points and pinnacles that pierce 
 the fog, or shine softly through the mist that veils the 
 city. Ethereal, shadowy, unreal they are, like the spires 
 of a celestial city, or the far away towers and turrets 
 we see sometimes at sunset in' the western sky. 
 
 Here, you know, are the chambers of the Houses of 
 Lords and Commons, with the attendant lobbies, libra- 
 ries, committee-rooms, &c, and a withdra wing-room for 
 the use of the queen when she is graciously pleased to 
 open Parliament in person. The speaker of the House of 
 Commons, as well as some other officials, reside here — a 
 novel idea to us, who could hardly imagine the speaker 
 of our House of Representatives taking up his abode 
 in the Capitol ! Parliament was not in session, and we 
 walked through the various rooms at will, even to the 
 robing-room of the noble lords, where the peg upon 
 which Lord Stanley hangs his hat was pointed out ; 
 and very like other pegs it was. At one end of the 
 chamber of the House of Lords is the throne. It is a 
 simple affair enough — ■ a gilded arm-chair on a little 
 platform reached by two or three steps, and with crim- 
 son hangings. Extending down on either side are the 
 crimson-cushioned seats without desks. In the centre 
 is a large square ottoman, — the woolsack, — which 
 might, with equal appropriateness, be called almost 
 anything else. Above, a narrow gallery offers a loun- 
 ging-place to the sons and friends of the peers ; and 
 at one end, above the throne, is a high loft, a kind of 
 uplifted amen corner, for strangers, with a space where 
 
SIGHTSEEING IN LONDON. 61 
 
 women may sit and look down through a screen of lat- 
 tice-work upon the proceedings below. It seems a rem- 
 nant of Eastern customs, strangely out of place in this 
 Western world, and akin to the shrouding of ourselves 
 in veils, like our Oriental sisters. Or can it be that the 
 noble lords are more keenly sensitive to the distracting 
 influence of bright eyes than other men ? 
 
 WESTMINSTER HALL AND THE LAW COURTS. 
 
 Adjoining the Houses of Parliament is this vast old 
 hall. For almost five hundred years has it stood, its 
 curiously carved roof unsupported by column or pillar. 
 Here royal banquets, as well as Parliaments, have been 
 held, and more than one court of justice. Here was 
 the great trial of Warren Hastings. It was empty 
 now of everything but echoes and the long line of 
 statuary on either side, except the lawyers in their 
 long, black gowns, who hastened up and down its 
 length, or darted in and out the three baize doors upon 
 one side, opening into the Courts of Chancery, Common 
 Pleas, and the Exchequer. Our national curiosity was 
 aroused, and we mounted the steps to the second, 
 which had won our sympathies from its democratic 
 name. 
 
 There were high, straight-backed pews of familiar 
 appearance, rising one above the other, into the last of 
 which we climbed, a certain Sunday solemnity stealing 
 over us, a certain awkward consciousness that we were 
 the observed of all observers, since we were the only 
 spectators — a delusion of our vanity, however. In the 
 high gallery before us, in complacent comfort, sat three 
 fat, drowsy old women (?) in white, curling wigs, and 
 
62 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 voluminous gowns, asking all manner of distracting 
 questions, and requiring to be told over and over again, 
 — after the manner of drowsy old women, — to the ut- 
 ter confusion of a poor witness in the front pew, who 
 clung to the rail and swayed about hopelessly, while 
 he tried to tell his story, as if by this rotary motion he 
 could churn his ideas into form. Not only did he lose 
 the thread of his discourse, — he became hopelessly en- 
 tangled in it. Scratch, scratch, scratch, went the pens 
 all around him. Every word, as it fell from his lips, 
 was pounced upon by the begowned, bewigged, be- 
 wildering judges, was twisted and turned by the law- 
 yers, was tossed back and forth throughout the court- 
 room, until there arose a question in our minds, as to 
 who was telling the story. All the while the lawyers 
 were glaring upon him as though he was perjuring 
 himself with every word — as who would not be, under 
 the circumstances ? And such lawyers ! They dotted 
 the pews all around us. The long, black gowns were not 
 so bad ; they hid a deal of awkwardness, I doubt not. 
 But the wigs ! the queer little curly things, perched 
 upon every head, and worn with such a perverse de- 
 light in misfits ! the small men being invariably hid- 
 den beneath the big wigs, and the large men strutting 
 about like the great Panjandrum himself with the 
 little round button at the top ! The appearance of one, 
 whose head, through some uncommon development, 
 rose to a ridge-pole behind, was surprising, to say the 
 least. It was not alone that his wig was too small, that 
 a fringe of straight, black hair fell below its entire 
 white circumference ; it was not alone that it was parted 
 upon the wrong side, or that, being mansard in form, 
 
SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 63 
 
 and his head hip-roofed, it could never, by any process, 
 have been shaped thereto ; but I doubt if the wearing 
 of it upside down, added to all these little drawbacks, 
 could conduce to the beauty or dignity of any man. 
 Unmindful of this reversed order of nature, its happy 
 possessor skipped about the court-room, nodding to his 
 brethren with a blithesome air, to the imminent peril 
 of his top-knot, which sustained about the same rela- 
 tion to his head as the sword to that of Damocles. He 
 speered down upon the poor witness. He pretended 
 to make notes of dreadful import with a screaming 
 quill, and, in fact, comported himself with an airy 
 unconsciousness delightful to see. 
 
 In regard to the proceedings of the court, I only 
 know that the point under discussion concerned one 
 Johnson, and a pump ; and Mr. Pickwick's judge sat 
 upon the bench. Whether he was originally round, 
 red-faced, with gooseberry eyes, I do not remember; 
 but all these pleasing characteristics he possessed at 
 this present time, as well as a pudgy forefinger, with 
 which to point his remarks. 
 
 "You say," he repeated, with a solemnity of which 
 my pen is incapable, and impressing every word upon 
 the poor man in the front pew with this same forefin- 
 ger, " that — Bunsen — went — to — the — pump ? " 
 
 "Johnson, my lord," the witness ventured to cor- 
 rect him, in a low tone. 
 
 "It makes no difference," responded the judge, irate, 
 "whether it is Bunsen or Jillson. The question is, 
 Did — Jillson — go — to — the — pump ? " 
 
 Whom the gods destroy they first deprive of their 
 five senses. Four, at least, of the poor man's had de- 
 
64 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 parted some time since. The fifth followed. "John- 
 son went, my lord," he replied, doggedly. Having 
 found one point upon which his mind Was clear, he 
 clung to it with the tenacity of despair. 
 
 " Johnson ! who's Johnson ? " gasped the bewildered 
 judge, over whose face a net of perplexed lines spread 
 itself upon the introduction of this new character. In 
 the confusion of denials and explanations that followed, 
 we descended from our perch, and stole away ; nor are 
 we at all sure, to this day, as to whether Johnson did 
 or did not really go to the pump. 
 
 st. Paul's. 
 
 Imagine our surprise, one day, when admiring a 
 pretty ribbon upon a friend, to be told that it came 
 from St. Paul's Churchyard. Hardly the place for rib- 
 bons, one would think ; but the narrow street which 
 encircles the cathedral in the form of a bow and its 
 string goes by this name, and contains, besides the 
 bookstores and publishing houses, some fine " silk 
 mercers'" establishments. 
 
 The gray surface of the grand edifice is streaked 
 with black, as though time had beaten it with stripes, 
 and a pall of smoke and dust covers the statues in the 
 court before it. Consecrated ground this is, indeed. 
 From the earliest times of the Christian religion, 
 through all the bigotry and fanaticism of the ages that 
 followed, down to the present time, the word of God 
 has been proclaimed here — in weakness often, in bit- 
 terness many times, that belied the spirit of its mes- 
 sage ; by a priesthood more corrupt than the people ; 
 by noble men, beyond the age in which they lived, and 
 
SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON 65 
 
 whom the flames of martyrdom could not appall. Un- 
 der Diocletian the first church was destroyed. It was 
 rebuilt, and destroyed again by the Saxons. Twice 
 has it been levelled to the ground by fire. But neither 
 sword nor flame could subdue it, and firm as a rock it 
 stands to-day, as it has stood for nearly two hundred 
 years, and as it seems likely to stand for ages to come. 
 The sacred stillness that invests the place was rudely 
 broken, the morning of our visit, by the blows from the 
 hammers of the workmen, resounding through the dome 
 like a discharge of artillery. A great stage, and seats 
 in the form of an amphitheatre, were being erected in 
 the nave for a children's festival, which prevented our 
 doing more than glance down its length. We read 
 some of the inscriptions upon the monuments, that one, 
 so often quoted, of Sir Christopher Wren, among them 
 — " Do you seek his monument ? Look around you ; " 
 glanced into the choir, with its Gothic stalls, where the 
 service is performed, and then descended into the crypt, 
 beneath all this, that labyrinth of damp darkness 
 where so many lie entombed. Here is the funeral car 
 of Wellington, with candles burning around it, cast 
 from the conquering cannon, which thundered victo- 
 ry to a nation, but sorrow and death to many a home. 
 Shrouded Avith velvet it is, as are the horses, in imi- 
 tation of those which bore him to his rest. All 
 around were marble effigies, blackened, broken, as they 
 survived the burning of the late cathedral, at the time 
 of the great fire. Tombstones formed the pavement. 
 " Whose can this be ? " I said, trying to follow with the 
 point of my umbrella the half-worn inscription beneath 
 my feet. It was that of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Strange 
 4 
 
66 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 enough it seemed to us, coming from a country so 
 new as to have been by no means prolific in great 
 men, to find them here lying about under our feet. 
 
 Having explored the crypt, we prepared to mount 
 the endless winding stairs, whose final termination is 
 the ball under the cross that surmounts the whole. 
 Our ambition aimed only at the bell beneath the 
 ball. We paid an occasional sixpence for the priv- 
 ilege of peeping into the library, — a most tidy and 
 put-to-rights room, with a floor of wood patchwork, 
 — '■ and for the right to look down upon the geo- 
 metrical staircase which winds around and clings to 
 the wall upon one side, but is without any visible sup- 
 port upon the other. The " whispering gallery " was 
 reached after a time. It is the encircling cornice with- 
 in the dome, surrounded by a railing, and forming a 
 narrow gallery. " I will remain here," said the guide, 
 " while you pass around until you are exactly opposite ; 
 wait there until I whisper." Had we possessed the 
 spirit of Casabianca, we should at this moment be sit- 
 ting upon that narrow bench against the wall, with our 
 feet upon the gas-pipes. We waited and listened, and 
 listened and waited ; but the sound of the blows from 
 the hammers below reverberated like thunder around 
 us. We could not have heard the crack of doom. Be- 
 coming conscious, after a time, that our guide had dis- 
 appeared, we came out and continued our ascent. Mrs. 
 K.'s curiosity, if not satisfied, was at least quenched, 
 and she refused to go farther. My aspirations still 
 pointed upward. There was another sixpence, another 
 dizzy mount of dark, twisting stairs, with strength, 
 ambition, and even curiosity gradually left behind, and 
 
SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 67 
 
 with only one blind instinct remaining — to go on. 
 There was a long, clingy passage, through which ghost- 
 ly forms were flitting; there were more stairs, with 
 twists and turns, forgotten now with other torments; 
 there was the mounting of half a dozen rickety wood- 
 en steps at last, for no object but to descend shakily 
 upon the other side, and then we found ourselves in a 
 little dark corner, peering over a dingy rail, with a 
 great, dusky object filling all the space below. And 
 that was the bell! "Well, and what of it?" I don't 
 know ; but we saw it ! 
 
68 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AWAY TO PARIS. 
 
 The wedding party. — The canals. — New Haven. — Around the 
 tea-table. — Separating the sheep from the goats. — " Will it 
 be a rough passage?" — Gymnastic feats of the little steamer. 
 — O, what were officers to us? — "Who ever invented ear- 
 rings ! " — Dieppe. — Fish-wives. — Train for Paris. — Fellow- 
 passengers. — Rouen. — Babel. — Deliverance. 
 
 T was the last week in May, and by no means the 
 " merry, merry month of May " had we found it. 
 Not only was the sky weighed down with clouds, but 
 they dripped upon the earth continually, the sun show- 
 ing his ghastly, white, half-drowned face for a moment 
 only to be swept from sight again by the cloud waves. 
 A friend was going to Paris. Would we shake the 
 drops from our garments, close our umbrellas, and go 
 with him ? We not only would, we did. We gath- 
 ered a lunch, packed our trunk, said our adieus, and 
 drove down to the station in the usual pouring rain, 
 the tearful accompaniment to all our movements. But 
 one party besides our own awaited the train upon the 
 platform — a young man with the insignia of bliss in 
 the gloves of startling whiteness upon his hands, and a 
 middle-aged woman of seraphic expression of counte- 
 nance, clad in robes of spotless white, her feet encased 
 
A WAT TO PARIS. 69 
 
 in capacious white slippers. In this airy costume, one 
 hand grasping a huge bouquet devoid of color, the other 
 the arm of her companion, she paced back and forth, to 
 the great amusement of the laughing porters, casting 
 upon us less fortunate ones, who shivered meekly in 
 our wraps, glances of triumphant pity indescribable. 
 
 " Weddin' party, zur," explained the guard, touching 
 his cap to our friend. "Jus' come down in fly." They 
 looked to us a good deal more as if they were just go- 
 ing up in a " fly." The train shrieked into the station, 
 and we were soon rushing over the road to New Ha- 
 ven, from which, in an evil moment, we had planned 
 to cross the Channel. There was little new or strange in 
 the picture seen from our window. The cottages were 
 now of a dull, clay color, instead of the dingy red we 
 had observed before, as though they had been erected in 
 sudden need, without waiting for the burning of the 
 bricks. There were brick-yards all along the way, an- 
 swering a vexed question in my mind as to where all 
 the bricks came from which were used so entirely in 
 town and village here, in the absence of the wood so 
 plentiful with us. The canals added much to the 
 beauty of the landscape, winding through the meadows 
 as if they were going to no particular place, and were 
 in no haste to reach their destination. They turned 
 aside for a clump of willows or a mound of daisy- 
 crowned earth ; they went quite out of their way to 
 peep into the back doors of a village, and, in fact, strolled 
 along in a lazy, serpentine manner that would have 
 crazed the proprietor of a Yankee canal boat. 
 
 It was five o'clock when we reached New Haven, 
 having dropped our fellow-passengers along the way, 
 
70 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 the blissful couple among them. Through some error 
 in calculation we had taken an earlier train than we 
 need have, and found hours of doleful leisure awaiting 
 us in this sleepy little town, lying upon an arm of the 
 sea. Its outer appearance was not inviting. Here 
 were the first and last houses of wood we saw in 
 England, — high, ugly things, that might have been 
 built of old boats or drift wood, with an economy that 
 precluded all thought of grace in architecture. The 
 train, in a gracious spirit of accommodation, instead of 
 plunging into the sea, as it might have done, paused 
 before the door of a hotel upon the wharf. There, in a 
 little parlor, we improvised a home for a time. Our 
 friend went off to explore the town. We took posses- 
 sion of the faded red arm-chairs by the wide windows. 
 Down below, beyond the wet platform, rose the well- 
 colored meerschaum of the little French steamer, whose 
 long-boats hung just above the edge of the wharf. 
 Through the closed window stole the breath of the salt 
 sea, that, only a hancl-breadth here, widened out below 
 into boundlessness, bringing visions of the ocean and a 
 thrill of remembered delight. The rain had ceased. 
 The breeze rolled the clouds into snow-balls, pure white 
 against the blue of the sky. Over the narrow stream 
 came the twitter of birds, hidden in the hawthorn 
 hedge all abloom. Everything smiled, and beamed, 
 and glistened without, though far out to sea the white 
 caps crowned the dancing waves. When night fell, 
 and the lights glimmered all through the town, we 
 drew the heavy curtains, lighted the candles in the shin- 
 ing candlesticks, whose light cast a delusive glow over 
 the dingy dustiness of the room, bringing out cheer- 
 
AWAY TO PARIS. 71 
 
 fally the little round tea-table in the centre, with its 
 bright silver and steaming urn, over which we lingered 
 a long hour, measuring and weighing our comfort, tell- 
 ing tales, seeing visions, and dreaming dreams of 
 home. 
 
 The clock struck nine as we crossed the plank to 
 the Alexandra, trying in vain to find in its toy appoint- 
 ments some likeness to our ocean steamer of delightful 
 memory. The train whizzed in from London, brineinff 
 our fellow-voyagers. The sheej) were separated from 
 the goats by the officer at the foot of the plank, who 
 asked each one descending, " First or second cabin ? " 
 — sending one to the right, the other to the left. The 
 wind swept in from the sea raw and cold. The foot- 
 square deck was cheerless and wet. Even a diagonal 
 promenade proved short and unsatisfactory, and in de- 
 spair we descended the slippery, perpendicular stairs 
 between boxes and bales, and down still another flight, 
 to the cabin. A narrow, cushioned seat clung to its four 
 sides, divided into lengths for berths. " Will it be a 
 rough night ? " we carelessly asked the young stew- 
 ardess. " O, no ! " was the stereotyped reply, though 
 all the while the wicked waves were dancing beneath 
 the white caps just outside. We divested ourselves of 
 hats, and wraps, and useless ornaments, reserving only 
 that of a meek and quiet spirit, w T hich, under a name- 
 less fear, grew every moment meeker and more quiet. 
 We undid the interminable buttons of our American 
 boots, and prepared for a comfortable rest, with an ig- 
 norance that at the time approximated bliss. There 
 was leisure for the working out of elaborate schemes. 
 Something possessed the tide. Whether it was high 
 
72 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 or low, narrow or wide, I do not know ; bnt there at 
 the wharf we were to await the working of its own 
 will, regardless of time. Accordingly we selected our 
 places with a deliberation that bore no proportion to 
 the time we were to fill them, advising with the stew- 
 ardess, who had settled herself comfortably to sleep. 
 We tried our heads to England and our feet to the foe, 
 and then reversed the order, finally compromising by 
 taking a position across the Channel. But the loading 
 of the steamer overhead, with the chattering of our fel- 
 low-passengers below, — two English girls, a pretty 
 brunette and her sister, — banished sleep. At three 
 o'clock our voyage began — the succession of quivering 
 leaps, plunges, and somersaults which miraculously 
 landed us upon the French coast. I can think of no 
 words to describe it. The first night upon the ocean 
 was paradise and the perfection of peace in comparison. 
 To this day the thought of the swashing water, beat- 
 en white against the port-hole before my eyes, is 
 sickening. A calm — to me, of utter prostration — 
 fell upon us long after the day dawned, only to be 
 broken by the stewardess, when sleep had brought par- 
 tial forgetfulness, with, "It's nine o'clock; we're at 
 Dieppe, and the officers want to come in here." We 
 tried to raise our heads. Officers ! What officers ? 
 Had we crossed the Styx? Were they of light 
 or darkness ? We sank back. O, what were officers 
 to us! 
 
 "But you must get up ! " — and she began an awk- 
 ward attempt at the buttons of those' horrible boots. 
 That recalled to life. American boots are of this world, 
 and we made a feeble attempt to don some of its van- 
 
A WAT TO PARIS. 73 
 
 ities. O, how senseless did the cuffs appear that went 
 on upside down ! — the collar which was fastened under 
 one ear! — the ribbons that were consigned to our 
 pockets! Making blind stabs at our ears, "Good 
 heavens!" we ejaculated, "who ever invented ear- 
 rings ? Relics of barbarism ! " We made hasty thrusts 
 at the hair-pins, standing out from our heads in every 
 direction like enraged porcupine quills ; being pulled, 
 and twisted, and scolded by the stewardess all the while ; 
 hearing the thump, thump, upon our door as one pair 
 of knuckles after another awoke the echoes, as one 
 strange voice after another shouted, "Why don't 
 those ladies come out ? " O the trembling fingers that 
 refused to hold the pins ! — the trembling feet that 
 staggered up the ladder-like stairs as we were thrust 
 out of the cabin — out of the cruel little steamer to 
 take refuge in one of the waiting cabs ! O the blessed- 
 ness of our thick veils and charitable wraps ! 
 
 I recall, as though it were a dream, the narrow, 
 roughly-paved street of Dieppe ; a latticed window 
 filled with flowers, and a dark-eyed maiden peeping 
 through the leaves; the fish-wives in short petticoats 
 and with high white caps, clattering over the stones in 
 their wooden sabots, wheeling barrows of fish to the 
 market near the station, where they bartered, and bar- 
 gained, and gossiped. Evidently it is a woman's right 
 in Normandy to work — to grow as withered, and hard, 
 and old before the time as she chooses, or as she has 
 need ; for to put away year after year, as do these poor 
 women, every grace and charm of womanhood, cannot 
 be of choice. 
 
 At the long table in the refreshment-room of the sta- 
 
74 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 tion we drank the tasteless tea, and ate a slice from the 
 roll four feet in length. The English-speaking girl who 
 attended*us found a place — rough enough, to be sure — 
 where in the few moments of waiting we could complete 
 our hasty toilets. Beside us at the table, our fellow- 
 voyagers, were two professors from a Connecticut col- 
 lege of familiar name, whom we had met in London. 
 They joined us in the comfortable railway carriage, and 
 added not a little to the pleasant chat that shortened 
 the long day and the weary journey to Paris. Our 
 number — for the compartment held eight — was com- 
 pleted by a young American gentleman, and a French- 
 man of evil countenance, who drank wine and made 
 love to his pretty Lizette in an unblushing manner, 
 strange, and by no means pleasing, to us, demonstrating 
 the annoyance, if nothing worse, to which one is often 
 subjected in these compartment cars. It needed but one 
 glance from the window to convince us that we were no 
 longer in England. To be sure, the sky is blue, the 
 grass green, in all lands ; but in place of the level 
 sweep of meadow through which we had passed across 
 the Channel, the land swelled here into hills on every 
 side. Long rows of stiff poplars divided the fields, 
 or stretched away in straight avenues as far as the 
 eye could reach. The English remember the beauty 
 of a curved line ; the French, with a painful rectitude, 
 describe only right angles. Scarlet poppies blushed 
 among the purple, yellow, and white wild flowers along 
 the way. The plastered cottages with their high, 
 thatched roofs, the tortuous River Seine with its green 
 islands, as we neared Paris, the neat little stations along 
 the way — like gingerbread houses ■ — made for us a new 
 
AWAT TO PARIS. 75 
 
 and charming panorama. Hanging over a gate at one 
 of these stations was an old man, white-haired, blind ; 
 his guide, an old woman, who waited, with a kind of 
 wondering awe stealing over her withered face, while 
 he played some simple air upon a little pipe — thus ask- 
 ing alms. So simple was the air, the very shadow of 
 a melody, that the scene might have been amusing, had 
 it not been so pitiful. 
 
 At noon we lunched in the comfortless waiting-room 
 at Rouen, while the professors made a hasty visit to 
 the cathedral during our stay of half an hour. We still 
 suffered from the tossing of the sea, and cathedrals pos- 
 sessed no charms in our eyes. It was almost night 
 when we reached Paris, and joined the hurrying crowd 
 descending from the train. It was a descent into Pan- 
 demonium. There was a confusion of unintelligible 
 sounds in our ears like the roll of a watchman's rattle, 
 bringing no suggestion of meaning. The calmness of 
 despair fell upon our crushed spirits, with a sense of 
 powerlessness such as we never experienced before or 
 since. A dim recollection of school-days — of Ollen- 
 dorff — rose above the chaos in our minds. "Has the 
 physician of the shoemaker the canary of the carpen- 
 ter?" we repeated mechanically; and with that our 
 minds became a blank. 
 
 Deliverance awaited us ; and when, just outside the 
 closed gates, first in the expectant crowd, we espied 
 the face of a friend, peace enveloped us like a garment. 
 Our troubles were over. 
 
76 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PARIS OF 1869. 
 
 The devil. — Cathedrals and churches. — The Louvre. — Mod- 
 ern French art. — The Beauvais clock, with its droll little 
 puppets. — Virtue in a red gown. — The Luxembourg Palace. 
 — The yawning statue of Marshal Ney. — Gay life by gas- 
 light. — The Imperial Circus. — The Opera. — How the 
 emperor and empress rode through the streets after the 
 riots. — The beautiful Spanish woman whose face was her 
 fortune. — Napoleon's tomb. 
 
 IT may be the City of Destruction, the very gate- 
 way to depths unknown ; but with its fair, white 
 dwellings, its fair, white streets, that gleamed almost 
 like gold beneath a summer sun, it seemed much more 
 a City Celestial. It may be, as some affirm, that the 
 devil here walks abroad at midday ; but we saw neither 
 the print of his hoofs upon the asphaltum, nor the 
 shadow of his horns upon the cream-like Caen stone. 
 We walked, and rode, and dwelt a time within its 
 limits ; and but for a certain reckless gayety that gave 
 to the Sabbath an air of Vanity Fair, but for the 
 mallet of the workman that disturbed our Sunday 
 worship, we should never have known that we were 
 not in the most Christian of all Christian cities. It is 
 by no means imperative to do in Rome as the Ro- 
 
THE PARIS OF 1869. 77 
 
 mans do, and one need not in Paris drink absinthe or 
 visit the Jardin Mabille. 
 
 Our first expedition was to the banker's and to the 
 shops, and having replenished our purse and ward- 
 robe, we were prepared to besiege the city. There was 
 a day or two of rest in the gilded chairs, cushioned 
 with blue satin, of our pretty salon, whence we peeped 
 down upon the street below between the yellow 
 satin curtains that draped its wide French window; 
 or rolled our eyes meditatively to the delicately tinted 
 ceiling, with its rose-colored clouds skimmed by tiny, 
 impossible birds ; or made abortive attempts to pen- 
 etrate the secrets of the buhl cabinets, and to guess 
 at the time from the pretty clocks of disordered or- 
 ganism; or admired ourselves in the mirrors which 
 gazed at each other from morning till night, for our 
 apartments in the little Hotel Friedland we found 
 most charming. 
 
 You will hardly care for a description of the dozen, 
 more or less, churches, old, new, and restored, with 
 -which we began and ended our sight-seeing in Paris, 
 where we looked upon sculptured saints without num- 
 ber, and studied ecclesiastical architecture to more 
 than our hearts' content. There was St. Germain 
 L'Auxerrois, the wicked old bell of which tolled the 
 signal for the massacre of St. Bartholomew. We 
 stood with the bonnes and babies under the trees of 
 the square before it, gazing up at the belfry with most 
 severe countenances, — and learned, afterwards, that 
 the bell had been long since removed! There was 
 the Madeleine of more recent date, built in the form of 
 a Greek temple, and interesting just now for having 
 
78 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 been the church of Father Hyacinthe, to which we 
 could for a time find no entrance. We shook the iron 
 gate; we inquired in excellent English of a French 
 shopkeeper, and found at last an open gateway, a 
 little unlocked door, beyond which we spent a time 
 of search and inquiry in darkness, and among wood, 
 and shavings, and broken chairs, and holy dust-pans, 
 before passing around and entering the great bronze 
 doors. There were the Pantheon and St. Sulpice, 
 grand and beautiful, erected piously from the proceeds 
 of lotteries. There was St. Etienne du Mont, and 
 within one of its chapels the gilded tomb of the patron 
 saint of Paris — St. Genevieve. Who she was, or 
 what she did to gain this rather unenviable position, I 
 failed to learn. Her name seems to have outlived her 
 deeds. Whether she was beautiful and beloved, and 
 put away earthly vanities for a holy life, or old and 
 ugly, and bore her lot with a patience that won saint- 
 ship, I do not know. I can only tell that tapers burn 
 always upon her tomb, and if you buy one it will burn 
 a prayer for you. So we were told. There is one old 
 church, St. Germain des Pres, most beautifully colored 
 within. Its pictures seem to have melted upon the 
 walls. But admired above all is the Sainte Chapelle, 
 in the Palais de Justice, a chapel fitted up by the fa- 
 natical St. Louis, when this palace of justice, which 
 holds now the courts of law, was a royal residence. 
 Of course all its brightness was dimmed long ago. Its 
 glories became dust, like its founder. But it has re- 
 cently been restored, and is a marvel of gilt, well- 
 blended colors, and stained glass. A graceful spire 
 surmounts it, but the old, cone-cnpped towers, rising 
 
THE PARIS OF 1S69. 79 
 
 from another part of the same building, possessed far 
 greater interest in our eyes ; for here was the Concier- 
 gerie, where were confined Marie Antoinette and so 
 many more victims of the reign of terror. 
 
 On the "isle of the city," in the Seine, where, under 
 the Roman rule, a few mud huts constituted Paris, 
 stands the church of Notre Dame, which was three hun- 
 dred years in building. With its spire and two square 
 towers, it may be seen from almost any part of the 
 city. I wish you might look upon the relics and the 
 vestments which the priests wear upon occasions of 
 ceremony, hidden within this church, and displayed 
 upon the payment of an extra fee. I did not wonder 
 that the Sisters of Charity, who went into the little 
 room with us, gazed aghast upon the gold and silver, 
 and precious stones. 
 
 Every one visits the galleries of the Louvre, of 
 course. A little, worn shoe, belonging once to Marie 
 Antoinette, and the old gray coat of the first emperor, 
 were to us the most interesting objects among the 
 relics. From out the sea of pictures rise Murillo's 
 Madonna, the lovely face with a soul behind it, shining 
 through, and the burial of the heroine of Chateau- 
 briand. Do you know it? The fair form, the sweeping 
 hair of Attila, and the dark lover with despair in his 
 face? As for the Rubens gallery,; — his fat, red, un- 
 draped women here among the clouds, surrounded by 
 puffy little cherubs, had for us no charms. Rubens in 
 Antwerp was a revelation. We wandered through room 
 after room, lighted from above, crowded with paintings. 
 To live for a time among them would be a delight; 
 to glance at them for a moment was tantalization. All 
 
80 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 around were the easels of the artists who come here 
 to sketch — sharp-featured, heavy-browed men, with 
 unkempt hair and flowing beards, and in shabby coats, 
 stood before them, pallet and brushes in hand; and 
 women by the score, — some of them young and pleas- 
 ing, with duennas patiently waiting near by ; but more 
 often they were neither young nor beautiful, and with 
 an evident renunciation of pomps and vanities. We 
 glanced at their copies curiously. Sometimes they 
 seemed the original in miniature, and sometimes, — ah 
 well, we all fail. 
 
 We looked in upon the annual exhibition of pictures 
 at the Palais de l'Industrie one day, and were particu- 
 larly impressed with the nudite of the modern school 
 of French art. Pink-tinted flesh may be very beautiful, 
 but there must be something higher ! We saw there, 
 too, another day, the clock on exhibition for a time be- 
 fore being consigned to its destined place at Beauvais. 
 It was even more wonderful than the one so famous 
 at Strasbourg. This was of the size of an ordinary 
 church organ, and of similar shape; a mass of gilt 
 and chocolate-colored wood ; a mass of dials, great and 
 small — of time tables, and, indeed, of tables for com- 
 puting everything earthly and heavenly, with dials to 
 show the time in fifty different places, and everything 
 else that could, by any possible connection with time, 
 be supposed to belong to a clock. Upon the top, 
 Christ, seated in an arm-chair, was represented as 
 judging the world, his feet upon the clouds ; on either 
 side kneeling female figures adored him. Just below, 
 a pair of scales bided their time. On every peak 
 stood little images, while fifty puppets peeped out of 
 
THE PARIS OF 1869. 81 
 
 fifty windows. Just below the image of the Saviour, 
 a figure emerged through an open door at the striking 
 of every quarter of an hour, — coming out with a slide 
 and occasional jerk by no means graceful. We had an 
 opportunity of observing all this in the three quarters 
 of an hour of waiting. We viewed the clock upon 
 every side, being especially interested in a picture at 
 one point representing a rocky coast, a light-house, and 
 a long stretch of waves upon which labored two ships 
 attached in some way to the works within. They 
 pitched back and forth without making any progress 
 whatever, in a way very suggestive to us, who had 
 lately suffered from a similar motion. A dozen priests 
 seated themselves with us upon the bench before the 
 clock as the hand approached the hour. They wore 
 the long black robes and odd little skull-caj)s, that fit 
 so like a plaster, and which are, I am sure, kept in 
 place by some law of attraction unknown to us. One, 
 of a different order, or higher grade, in a shorter robe 
 and with very thin legs, encased in black stockings 
 that added to their shadowy appearance, shuffled up 
 to his place just in time to throw back his head and 
 open his mouth as the clock struck, and the last judg- 
 ment began. The cock upon the front gave a prelim- 
 inary and weak flap of his wings, and emitted three 
 feeble, squeaky crows, that must, I am sure, have con- 
 vulsed the very puppets. Certainly they all disap- 
 peared from the windows, and something jumped into 
 their places intended to represent flames, but which 
 looked so much like reversed tin petticoats, that we 
 supposed for a moment they were all standing on 
 their heads. All the figures upon the peaks turned 
 6 
 
82 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 their backs upon us. The image of Christ began to 
 wave its hands. The kneeling women swayed back 
 and forth, clasping their own. Two angels raised to 
 their lips long, gilt trumpets, as if to blow a blast; 
 then dropped them ; then raised them a second time, 
 and even made a third abortive attempt. From one 
 of the open doors Virtue was jerked out to be judged, 
 Virtue in a red gown. The scales began to dance up 
 and down. An angel appeared playing a guitar, and 
 Virtue went triumphantly off to the right, to slow and 
 appropriate music, an invisible organ playing mean- 
 while. Then Vice appeared. I confess he excited my 
 instant and profound pity. Such a poor, naked, 
 wretched-looking object as he was ! with his hands 
 to his face, as though he were heartly ashamed to come 
 out in such a plight. I venture to say, if he had been 
 decked out like Virtue, he might have stolen off to the 
 right, and nobody been the wiser. Good clothes do a 
 great deal in Paris. As it was, the scales danced up 
 and down a moment, and then the devil appeared with 
 a sharp stick, and drove him around the corner to the 
 left, with very distant and feeble thunder for an ac- 
 companiment. That ended the show. All the little 
 puppets jumped back into all the little windows, and 
 we came away. 
 
 Speaking of picture galleries, we spent a pleasant 
 hour in the gallery of the Luxembourg — a collection 
 of paintings made up from the works of living artists, 
 and of those who have been less than a year deceased. 
 It is sufficiently small to be enjoyable. There is some- 
 thing positively oppressive in the vastness of many of 
 these galleries. You feel utterly unequal to them ; as 
 
THE PARIS OF 1869. 83 
 
 though the finite were about to attempt the compre- 
 hension of the infinite. One picture here, by Ary 
 Scheffer, was exhibited in America, a few years since. 
 It is the head and bust of a dead youth in armor — 
 a youth with a girlish face. There are others by 
 Henri Scheffer, Paulin Guerin, and a host more I 
 will not name. One, a scene in the Conciergerie, 
 "Reading the List of the Condemned to the Pris- 
 oners," by Muller, haunted me long after the doors 
 had swung together behind us. The palace of the 
 Luxembourg, small, remarkable for the beauty of its 
 architecture and charming garden, built for that srrace- 
 less regent, Marie de Medici, is now the residence of 
 the president of the Senate; and indeed the Senate 
 itself meets here. We were shown through the rooms 
 open to the public, the private apartments of Marie de 
 Medici among them, in one of which was a bust 
 of the regent. The garden, like all gardens, is filled 
 with trees and shrubs, flowers and fountains, but yet 
 with a certain charm of its own. The festooning of 
 vines from point to point was a novelty to us, as was 
 the design of one of the fountains. Approaching it from 
 the rear, we thought it a tomb, — perhaps the tomb 
 of Marshal Ney, Ave said, whose statue we were seek- 
 ing. It proved to be an artificial grotto, and within it, 
 sprinkled with the spray of the fountain, embowered 
 in a mass of glistening, green ivy, reclined a pair of 
 pretty, marble lovers; peering in upon them from 
 above, scowled a dreadful ogre — a horrible giant. 
 The whole effect, coming upon it unexpectedly, was 
 startling. 
 
 We had a tiresome search for this same statue of 
 
84 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Marshal Ney. We chased every marble nymph in the 
 garden, and walked and walked, over burning pebbles 
 and under a scorching sun, until we almost wished he 
 had never been shot. At last, away beyond the gar- 
 den, out upon a long avenue, longer and hotter if pos- 
 sible than the garden paths, we found it, — erected 
 upon the very spot where he was executed. He 
 stands with arm outstretched, and mouth opened wide, 
 as though he were yawning with the wearisomeness 
 of it all. It is a pity that he should give way to his 
 feelings so soon, since he must stand there for hun- 
 dreds of years to come. The guide-books say he is 
 represented in the act of encouraging his men* They 
 must have been easily encouraged. 
 
 Of the out-door gay life by gas-light, we saw less 
 than we had hoped to see in the French capital. The sea- 
 son was unusually cold and wet, and most of the time it 
 would have required the spirit of a martyr to sip coffee 
 upon the sidewalk. One garden concert we did attend, 
 and found it very bright and fairy-like, and all the other 
 adjectives used in this connection. We sat wrapped 
 in shawls, our feet upon the rounds of the chair before 
 us, and shivered a little, and enjoyed a great deal. 
 We went one night — in most orthodox company — 
 to the Cirque de LTmperatrice, a royal amphitheatre 
 with handsome horses, pretty equestriennes, and a 
 child balanced and tossed about on horseback, showing 
 a frightened, painful smile, which made of the man who 
 held her a Herod in our eyes. A girl very rich in 
 paint and powder, but somewhat destitute in other 
 particulars, skipped and danced upon a slack rope in 
 a most joyous and airy manner. When we came out, a 
 
THE PARIS OF 1869. 85 
 
 haggard woman, with an old, worn face, was crouching 
 in a little weary heap by the door that led into the sta- 
 bles, wrapped in an old cloak ; and that was our dancing 
 girl ! 
 
 We went to the opera, too ; it was Les Huguenots. 
 To this day I cannot tell who were the singers. I 
 never knew, or thought, or cared. And the bare shoul- 
 ders flashing with jewels in the boxes around us, the 
 claqueurs in the centre, hired to applaud, clapping their 
 hands with the regularity of clock-work, the empty 
 imperial box, were nothing to the sight of Paris 
 portrayed within itself. You know the familiar opera ; 
 do think how strange it was to see it in Paris; to 
 look upon the stage and behold the Seine and the towers 
 of Notre Dame; the excited populace rising u\> to 
 slay and to be slain, with all the while this same fickle 
 French people serenely smiling, and chatting, and look- 
 ing upon it — the people who were even then ready at a 
 word to reenact the same scenes for a different cause. 
 Just outside, only a day or two before, something of 
 the same spirit, portrayed here for our amusement, 
 had broken out again in the election riots. And we re- 
 membered that, as we drove around the corner to the 
 opera house, mounted soldiers stood upon either side, 
 while every other man upon the street was the eye, and 
 ear, and arm of the emperor, who knew that the very 
 ground beneath his fair, white city tottered and reeled. 
 
 We saw the emperor and empress one day, after 
 having looked for them long and in vain upon the 
 Champs Elysees, and in the Bois de Boulogne where 
 gay Paris disports itself. It was the morning after the 
 riot, when they drove unattended, you will remember, 
 
86 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 through the streets where the rioters had gathered. 
 We were in one of the shops upon the Rue de Rivoli. 
 Just across the way rose the Tuileries from the side- 
 walk. A crowd began to collect about the open arch- 
 way through the palace, which affords entrance and 
 egress to the great square around which the palace is 
 built. "What is it?" we asked of the voluble 
 Frenchman who was gradually persuading us that 
 brass was gold. " L'Empereur," he replied ; which sent 
 us to the sidewalk, and put from our minds all thoughts 
 of oxidized silver and copper-colored gold. Just with- 
 in the arch paced a lackey in livery of scarlet and gold, 
 wearing a powdered wig and general air of importance. 
 On either side, the sentries froze into position. The 
 gendarmes shouted and gesticulated, clearing the 
 streets. A mounted attendant emerged from the arch- 
 way ; there followed four bay horses attached to a plain, 
 dark, open carriage ; upon the front seat were two gen- 
 tlemen, u]3on the back, a gentleman with a lady by his 
 side. His hair was iron gray, almost silvery. He 
 turned his fice from us as he raised his hat gravely to 
 the crowd, displaying a very perceptible bald spot upon 
 the back of his head as lie was whizzed around the cor- 
 ner and down the street. And that was Napoleon 
 III. We saw no American lady in Paris dressed so 
 singly as the empress. Something of black lace draped 
 her shoulders ; a white straw bonnet, trimmed with black, 
 with a few pink roses resting upon her hair, crowned her 
 head. She bowed low to the right and left, with a pe- 
 culiar, graceful motion, and a smile uj^on the face a little 
 worn and pale, a little faded, — but yet the face we all 
 know so well. Beautiful Spanish woman, whose face 
 
 V 
 
THE PARIS OF 1869 87 
 
 was your fortune, though you smiled that day upon the 
 people, your cheeks were pale, your eyes were full of 
 tears. 
 
 There is nothing more wonderful in Paris than the 
 tomb prepared to receive the remains of the first Na- 
 poleon, in the chapel of the Hotel des Invalides; fitting, 
 it would seem to be, that he should rest here among his 
 old soldiers. We left the carriage at the gateway, and 
 crossed the open court, mounted the wide steps, fol- 
 lowed the half dozen other parties through the open 
 doors, and this was what we saw. At the farther end 
 of the great chapel or church, an altar, approached by 
 wide, marble steps ; gilt and candles embellished it, and 
 a large, gilt cross upon it bore an image of the crucified 
 Lord. All this was not unlike what we had seen many 
 times. But four immense twisted columns rose from 
 its four corners — columns of Egyptian marble, writh- 
 ing like spotted serpents. They supported a canopy 
 of gold, and the play of lights upon this, through the 
 stained windows above and on either side, was indescrib- 
 able. As we entered the door, darkness enveloped it, 
 save where an invisible sun seemed to touch the roof 
 of gold and rest lightly upon the pillars ; an invisible 
 sun, indeed, for, without, the sky was heavy with 
 clouds. As we advanced, this unearthly light touched 
 new points — the gilded candlesticks, the dying Saviour, 
 but above all the wri things of these monster ser- 
 pents, until the whole seemed a thing of life, a some- 
 thing which grew and expanded every moment, and was 
 almost fearful to look upon. Filling the centre *of the 
 chapel was a circular marble wall breast-high. Do you 
 remember, in going to the old Senate chamber at 
 
88 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Washington, after passing through the rotunda, the 
 great marble well-curb clown which you could look into 
 the room below ? This was like that, only more vast. 
 Over it leaned a hundred people, at least, gazing down 
 upon what? A circular, roofless room, a crypt to hold 
 a tomb ; each pillar around its circumference was the 
 colossal figure of a woman; between these hung the 
 tattered tri-colors borne in many a fierce conflict, be- 
 neath the burning suns of Egypt and over the dreary 
 snows of Russia, with seventy colors captured from the 
 enemies of France. A wreath of laurel in the mosaic 
 floor surrounded the names Austerlitz, Marengo, Fried- 
 land, Jena, Wagram, Moscow, and Pyramids, and in the 
 centre rose the sarcophagus of Finland granite, pre- 
 pared to hold the body of him whose ambition knew no 
 bounds. The letter N" upon one polished side was the 
 only inscription it bore. He who wrote his name in 
 blood needed no epitaph. The entrance to this crypt is 
 through bronze doors, behind the altar, and gained by 
 passing under it. On either side stood a colossal figure 
 in bronze ; kings they seemed to be, giant kings, in long 
 black robes and with crowns of black upon their heads. 
 One held, upon the black cushion in his hands, 
 a crown of gold and a golden sword; the other, 
 a globe crowned with a cross and a golden scej3tre. 
 They were so grand, and dark, and still, they 
 gazed upon us so fixedly from out their great, grave 
 eyes, that I felt a chill in all my bones. They guard 
 his tomb. They hold his sword and sceptre while 
 he sleeps. I almost expected the great doors to 
 swing open at the touch of his hand, and to see him 
 come forth. Over these doors were his own words: 
 
THE PARIS OF 1869. 89 
 
 " I desire that my ashes may repose upon the banks of 
 the Seine, in the ruidst of the French people I have 
 loved so well." On either side, as we came out, we read 
 upon the tombs the names of Bertrand and Duroc, — 
 faithful in death ! We wondered idly whose remains 
 were guarded in the simple tomb near the door. It was 
 surrounded by an iron railing, and bore no inscription. 
 Who can it be, we said, that is nameless here among 
 the brave? Little did we imagine at the time that 
 here rested the body of the great Napoleon, as it was 
 brought from St. Helena ; but his spirit seemed to per- 
 vade the very atmosphere, and we came out into the 
 gloom of the day as though we had, indeed, come from 
 the presence of the dead. 
 
90 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITY. 
 
 The Gobelin tapestry. — How and where it is made. — Pere la- 
 Chaise. — Poor Rachel ! — The baby establishment. — " Now 
 I lay me." — The little mother. — The old woman who lived 
 in a shoe. — The American chapel. — Beautiful women and 
 children. — The last conference-meeting. — " I'm a proof- 
 reader, I am." 
 
 iY no means least among the places of interest in 
 Paris is the manufactory of the Gobelin tapestry 
 which serves to adorn the walls of the palace salons. 
 O, these long, tiresome salons, which must be visited, 
 though your head is ready to burst with seeing, 
 your feet to drop off with sliding and slipping over 
 the polished floors. The wicked stand upon slippery 
 places, and nothing so convinced us of the demoral- 
 izing effect of foreign travel as our growing ability 
 to do the same. When you have seen one or 
 two, you have seen all. There may be degrees in 
 gorgeous splendor, but we were filled with all the 
 appropriate and now-forgotten emotions at sight of 
 the first, and one cannot be more than full. Many of 
 the old palace apartments are dull and dingy beyond 
 belief, by no means the marble halls of our dreams ; 
 but of the others let me say something once for all. 
 
SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITT. 91 
 
 Under your feet is the treacherous, bare floor of dark 
 wood, laid in diamonds, squares, &e. ; over your head, 
 exquisite frescoes of gods and goddesses, and all man- 
 ner of unearthly and impossible beings enveloped in 
 clouds by the bale, — usually an apotheosis of some 
 king or queen, or both, and, as a rule, of the most 
 wicked known at that time. The Medici were es- 
 pecially glorified and raised above the flesh, — and 
 they had need to be. On every side pictures in Gobelin 
 tapestry, framed into the walls, often so large as to 
 cover the entire space from corner to corner, from cor- 
 nice to within a few feet of the floor, and in this latter 
 space doors, formed of a panel sometimes, for the en- 
 trance and egress of servants. Imagine, with all this, 
 the gilt, and stucco, and wood-carving ; the flowers, 
 and arabesques, and entwined initials; the massive 
 chandeliers, with glittering pendants; the mantels of 
 rare marbles, of porphyry, and malachite; the cabinets, 
 and tables, and escritoires of marqueterie and mosaic; 
 the gilded chairs, stiff and stark, richly covered ; the 
 bronzes, vases, and curious clocks : and over all the 
 air of having never been used from all time, and of 
 continuing to be a bare show to all eternity, — and you 
 have a faint conception of the salons of half the 
 palaces. 
 
 As for the tapestry, pray don't confound it with the 
 worsted dogs and Rebekahs-at-the-Well with which we 
 sometimes adorn (?) our homes, since one would never 
 in any way suggest the other. In these every delicate 
 line is faithfully reproduced, and the effect exactly that 
 of an oil painting. After long years the colors fade ; 
 and we were startled sometimes, in the old palaces, to 
 
92 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 come upon one of these gray shadows of pictures, out 
 from which, perhaps, a pair of wonderful eyes alone 
 would seem to shine. In old times the rough walls 
 of the grim prison palaces were hung with tapestry 
 wrought by the fair fingers of court ladies, the designs 
 of tournament and battle being rudely sketched by gay 
 gallants. Many a bright dream was worked into the 
 canvas, I doubt not, never found upon the pattern; 
 many a sweet word said over the task that beguiled 
 the dull hours, and kept from mischief idle hands. 
 But in the reign of Louis XIV. the art of weaving 
 tapestry was brought from Flanders, and a manufac- 
 tory established on the outskirts of Paris which still 
 remains. To visit it a pass is required. Accordingly 
 we addressed a note of solicitation to some high official, 
 and in due time came a permit for Madame K. and 
 family; and an ill-assorted family we must have ap- 
 peared to the official at the gate. There were the 
 rooms, hung with specimens of the tapestry, for which 
 we did not care, and then the six devoted to the weav- 
 ing; long, low, and narrow they were, with hand-looms 
 ranged down one side. Through the threads of the 
 warp we could see the weavers sitting behind their 
 work, each with his box of worsteds and pattern be- 
 side him. The colors were wound upon quills, num- 
 bers of which hung, each by its thread, from the half- 
 completed work. Taking one of these in one hand, 
 the workman dexterously separated the threads of the 
 warp with the other, and passed the quill through, 
 pressing down the one stitch thus formed with its 
 pointed end. You can imagine how slow this work 
 must be. How tiresome a task it is to delight the eyes 
 
SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITT. 93 
 
 of princes ! The making of carpets, which has been 
 recently added, is equally tiresome. This, too, is hand 
 work, they being woven in some way over a round 
 stick, and then cut and trimmed with a ])air of shears. 
 To make one requires from five to ten years, and their 
 cost is from six to twenty thousand dollars. About six 
 hundred weavers are said to be here, though we saw 
 but a small proportion of that number. They receive 
 only from three to five hundred dollars a year, with a 
 pension of about half as much if they are disabled. 
 
 From the Gobelins we drove across the Seine again, 
 and out to Pere la-Chaise, where stood once the house of 
 the confessor of Louis XIV., from whom the cemetery 
 takes its name, the Jesuit priest through whose influ- 
 ence the edict of Nantes was revoked. A kind of 
 ghastly imitation of life it all seemed — the narrow 
 houses on either side of the paved streets, that were not 
 houses at all, hung with dead flowers and corpse-like 
 wreaths, stained an unnatural hue. We j>eered through 
 the bars of the locked gate opening into the Jews' 
 quarter, trying to distinguish the tomb where lie the 
 ashes of a life that blazed, and burned itself out. Poor 
 Rachel ! Through the solemn streets, among the quiet 
 dwellings of the noiseless city, whence comes no sound 
 of joy or grief, where they need no candle, neither 
 light of the sun, we walked a while, then plucked a 
 leaf or two, and came away. 
 
 One day, when the sun lay hot upon the white 
 streets of the beautiful city, we searched among the 
 shops of the crooked Faubourg St. Honore for a num- 
 ber forgotten now, and the Creche, where the working 
 mothers may leave their children during the day. In 
 
94 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 another and more quiet street we found it. We pulled 
 the bell before a massive gateway; the wide doors 
 opened upon a smiling portress, who led the way 
 across the paved court to the house, where she pointed 
 up some stairs, and left us to mount and turn until 
 it was no longer possible, until a confusion of doors 
 barred our way, when we rapped upon one. Another 
 was opened, and we found ourselves among the babies. 
 There were, perhaps, twenty in all, the larger children 
 being in the school-room below; but even twenty 
 toddling, rolling babies, looking so very like the same 
 image done in putty over and over again, appears an 
 alarming and unlimited number when taken in a body. 
 They rolled beneath our feet, they clung to our skirts, 
 they peeped out, finger in mouth, from behind the 
 doors, they kicked pink toes up from the swinging 
 cradles, and in fact, like the clansmen of Rhoderic Dhu, 
 appeared in a most startling manner from the most 
 unexpected places. Plump little things they were, 
 encased in shells of blue-checked aprons, from the outer 
 one of which they were surreptitiously slipped upon' 
 our entrance to disclose a fresher one beneath. How 
 long this process could have continued with a similar 
 happy result, we did not inquire. Every head was tied 
 up in a tight little night-cap, giving them the appear- 
 ance of so many little bag puddings. Every face was 
 a marvel of health and contentment, with one kicking, 
 screaming exception upon the floor. "Eengleesh," ex- 
 plained the Sister of Charity who seemed to have them 
 in charge, giving a sweeping wipe to the eyes, nose, 
 and mouth, gradually liquidizing, of this one, and trying 
 in vain to pacify a nature that seemed peaceless. Who 
 
SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITY. 95 
 
 was its mother, or how the little stranger chanced to 
 be here, we did not learn. On either side of the long, 
 narrow room hung the white-curtained cradles, each 
 with its pretty, pink quilt. At one end was an altar, 
 most modest in its appointments, consisting of hardly 
 more than a crucifix and a vase of flowers upon the 
 mantel. As we entered the room, the sister stood be- 
 fore it with a circle of white caps and blue checked 
 aprons around her, a circle of little clasped hands, of 
 upturned eyes and lisping lips, repeating what might 
 have been, " Now I lay me," for anything we knew. 
 Our entrance brought wandering eyes and thoughts. 
 
 At the opposite end of the room, a wide, long win- 
 dow swung open, revealing a pleasant garden down 
 below, all green and blossoming, with an image of the 
 Virgin half hid among the vines. Cool, and fresh, and 
 green it seemed after the glare of the hot streets, a 
 pleasant picture for the baby eyes. Out from this 
 window the little feet could trot upon the guarded roof 
 of a piazza. A little chair, a broken doll, and limbless 
 horse here were familiar objects to the eyes of the 
 mothers in our party, and w 7 hen two children seized 
 upon one block with a determination which threatened 
 a breach of the peace, we were convinced that even baby 
 nature was the same the world over. Supper time 
 came, and the children were gathered together in a 
 small room, before the drollest little table imagina- 
 ble — a kind of elongated doughnut, raised a foot 
 from the floor, with a circular seat around it. All the 
 little outer shells of blue check were slipped on, all the 
 little fat bodies lifted over and set into their places, to 
 roll off, or about, at will. A grace was said, to us, I 
 
96 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 think, since all the little eyes turned towards us, and 
 a plate of oatmeal porridge put before each one. Some 
 ate with a relish, and a painful search over the face 
 with a spoon for the open, waiting mouth ; some leaned 
 back to stare at the company ; and others persisted in 
 dipping into the dish of their next neighbor. One 
 little thing, hardly more than a year old, drew down 
 the corners of her mouth in a portentous manner, when 
 the motherly one beside her, of the advanced age of 
 three years, perhaps, rapped on the table with her 
 spoon, and patted the doleful little face, smiling all the 
 while, until she actually drew out smiles in return. 
 The dear little mother ! An attendant with a homely 
 face, creased into all manner of good-natured lines, re- 
 solved herself into the old woman who lived in a shoe, 
 holding two babies and the porridge dish in her lap, 
 balancing one upon the end of the low bench beside her, 
 while two or three more stood at her knee, clinging to 
 her apron. It was like a nest of open-mouthed birdlings. 
 Blessings on the babies, and those, whether of our faith 
 or not, who teach and care for them, we thought, as we 
 came away. " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of 
 the least of these, ye did it unto me," said the Master. 
 Although I said nothing of our church-going in 
 London, I cannot pass over our American chapel in 
 Paris, with its carved, umbrella-like canopy, shading 
 the good Dr. R., who did so much socially, as well as 
 spiritually, for Americans there. Here came many 
 whose names are well known ; among them our min- 
 ister to France, an elderly gentleman of unpretending 
 dress and manner, with a kindly, care-worn face. And 
 here gathered also a company of beautiful women 
 
SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITT. 97 
 
 and children, proving the truth of all that has been 
 said of our countrywomen. A blending of all types 
 were they, as our people are a blending of all nation- 
 alities, each more lovely than the other, and all making 
 up a picture well worth seeing. I wish I might say as 
 much for the opposite sex. One gentleman, who wore 
 a red rose always in his button-hole, and turned his 
 back upon the minister to stare at the women, had a 
 handsome though blase face, and more than one head 
 above the pews would have been marked anywhere ; 
 but the women and children bore away the palm. The 
 delicate, sensitive faces which characterize American 
 women, whether the effect of climate, manner of life, 
 or of the nerves for which we are so celebrated, are 
 found nowhere else, I am sure. 
 
 Besides the Sabbath services a weekly prayer-meet- 
 ing was held here. They were singing some sweet 
 familiar hymn as we entered one evening and took 
 our place among the pilgrims and strangers like our- 
 selves. It was the last gathering for the winter. Some 
 were off for home, some for a summer of travel ; only a 
 few, with the pastor, were to remain. One followed 
 another in words of retrospection, and regret at' part- 
 ing, until a pall settled over the little company — until 
 even we, who had never been there before, wiped our 
 eyes because of the general dolefulness. A hush and 
 universal mistiness pervaded the air of the dimly-lighted 
 house ; the assembly seemed about to pass out of ex- 
 istence, Niobe-like. Then up rose Dr. R., the pastor. I 
 wondered what he could say to add to the gloom ; 
 something like this, perhaps: "Dear people, everybody 
 is off; let us shut up the churchj lock the door, and 
 7 
 
98 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 throw away the key. Receive the benediction." But 
 no ; I wish you might feel the thrill that went through 
 the little company as his words fell from his lips. I 
 wish I dared attempt to repeat them. " And now to 
 you who go," he said, at last, " who take with you some- 
 thing of our hearts, be sure our prayers will follow you. 
 Keep us in memory; but, above all, keep in memo- 
 ry your church vows. Make yourselves known as 
 Christians among Christians. And when you have 
 reached home — the home to which our thoughts have 
 so often turned together — let this be a lesson. When 
 summer comes and you leave the city for the country, 
 for the mountains, for the sea-side, take your religion 
 with you. Search out some struggling little church 
 with a discouraged pastor, — you'll not look far or long 
 to find such a one, — and work for that, as you have 
 worked for us. And one thing more ; send your 
 friends who are coming abroad to us. Send us the 
 Christians, for we need them, and by all means send us 
 those who are not Christians; they may need us; and 
 the Lord bless you, and keep you in all your goings, 
 and give you peace." 
 
 Then the people gathered in knots for last words — 
 for hand-clasps and good-byes. Now a spirit of peace 
 and good will having fallen upon us with the pastor's 
 benediction, we gazed wistfully upon the strangers in 
 the hope of finding one familiar face ; but there was 
 none ; so we came sorrowfully down the aisle. The door 
 was almost reached when a sharp, twanging voice be- 
 hind us began, "I'm sent out by X. & Y., book publish- 
 ers." "O," said I to the friend at my side, "I believe I 
 will speak to that man. I know Mr. X., and I do so 
 
SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITT. 99 
 
 want to speak to somebody." How he accomplished 
 the introduction I cannot tell, but in a moment my 
 hand was grasped by that of a stout little man, with 
 bushy hair and twinkling eyes. "Know Mr. X.? Mr. 
 Q. X. ? " he began. To tell the truth I had not that 
 honor, my acquaintance having been with his brother; 
 but there was no time to explain, and retreat was 
 equally impossible ; so I replied that my father knew 
 him well ; then thinking that something more was neces- 
 sary to explain the sudden and intense interest mani- 
 fested in his behalf, added, desperately, " indeed, 
 intimately." To this he paid no manner of attention, — 
 I doubt if he heard it, — but rattled on : "Fine man, 
 Mr. X., Mr. Q. X. Know Mr. Y. ? Fine man, Mr. Y. ; 
 been abroad a year; I'm goin' out to meet him, I am. 
 He's in Switzerland, Mr. Y. is ; been abroad a year. 
 I'm a proof-reader, I am. I s'pose you know what a 
 proof-reader is." "Yes," I succeeded in inserting 
 while he took breath, remembering some amateur 
 attempts of my own in that direction. He began anew : 
 " I'm sent out by X. & Y. ; expect to find Mr. Y. in 
 Switzerland; fine man — " Will he never stop, I 
 thought, beginning a backward retreat from the pew 
 down the aisle, with all the while ringing in my ears, 
 " I'm a proof-reader, I am," &c. " Don't laugh, pray 
 don't," I said to the friends waiting at the door. "It's 
 dreadful — is it not ? " What became of him we never 
 knew, but in all probability the sexton removed him — 
 still vocal — to the sidewalk that night; where, since 
 we do not know for how long a time he was wound 
 up, he may be iterating and reiterating to this day the 
 interesting fact of his occupation, with the eulogy upon 
 Messrs. X. & Y. 
 
100 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SHOW PLACES I1ST THE SUBUEBS OF PARIS. 
 
 The river omnibuses. — Sevres and its porcelain. — St. Cloud as 
 it was. — The crooked little town. — Versailles. — Eugenie's 
 " spare bedroom." — The queen who played she was a farmer's 
 wife. — Seven miles of paintings. — The portraits of the presi- 
 dents. 
 
 THERE are four ways of going to St. Cloud, from 
 Paris, says the guide-book ; we chose the fifth, and 
 took one of the little steamboats — the river omnibuses 
 — that follow the course of the Seine, stopping at the piers 
 along the city, which occur almost as often as the street 
 crossings. Very insignificant little steamers they are, 
 made up of puff, and snort, and smoke, a miniature deck, 
 and a man with a big bell. Up the river we steamed 
 through a mist that hid everything but the green 
 banks, the pretty villas whose lawns drabbled their 
 skirts in the river, and after a time the islands that 
 seemed to have dropped cool, wet, and green into the 
 middle of the stream. We plunged beneath the dark 
 arches of the stone bridges — the Pont d'Alma not to 
 be forgotten, with its colossal sentinels on either side 
 of the middle arch, calm, white, and still, leaning upon 
 their muskets, their feet almost dipping into the water, 
 
SHOW PLACES NEAR PARIS. 101 
 
 their great, stony eyes gazing away down the river. 
 What is it they seem to see beyond the bend? What 
 is it they watch and wait for, gun in hand ? We pulled 
 our wraps about us, found a sheltered place, and went 
 on far beyond our destination, through the gray vapor 
 that gathered sometimes into great, plashing drops to 
 fall upon the deck, or, hovering in mid-air, wiped out 
 the distance from the landscape as effectually as the 
 sweep of a painter's brush, while it softened and 
 spiritualized everything near, from the sharply outlined 
 eaves, and gables, and narrow windows of the village 
 
 a O 
 
 struggling up from the water, to the shadowy span of 
 the bridges that seemed to rest upon air. Then down 
 with the rain and the current we swept again, to land 
 at the forsaken pier of Sevres, from which we made our 
 way over the pavings, so inviting in these French 
 towns for missile or barricade, to the porcelain factory. 
 No fear of missing it, since it is the one object of in- 
 terest to strangers in the town ; and whatever question 
 we asked, the reply would have been the pointing of 
 the finger in that one direction. Once there, we clat- 
 tered and slipped over the tiled floor after a polite at- 
 tendant, through its many show-rooms, and among its 
 wilderness of pottery, ancient and modern. The manu- 
 factory was established by — I'm sure I don't know 
 whom — in seventeen hundred and — something, at 
 Vincennes, quite the other side of Paris; but a few 
 years later, in the reign of Louis XV., was transferred 
 to Sevres, and put under the direction of government. 
 It is almost impossible to gain permission to visit the 
 workshops, but a permit to pass through the show- 
 rooms can easily be obtained. There were queer old- 
 
102 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 
 
 fashioned attempts at glazed ware here, some of them 
 adorned with pictures like those we used to see in our 
 grandmothers' china closets, of puffy little pink gentle- 
 men and ladies ambling over a pink foreground ; a pink 
 mountain, of pyramidal form, rising from the wide- 
 rimmed hat of the roseate gentlemen ; a pink lake 
 standing on end at the feet of the lady, and a little 
 pink house, upon which they might both have sat 
 comfortably, with a few clouds of jeweller's cotton com- 
 pleting the picture. A striking contrast were these to 
 the marvels of frailty and grace of later times. The 
 rooms were hung with paintings upon porcelain, the 
 burial of Attiln, which we had seen at the Louvre, 
 among them. Every conceivable model of vase, pitcher, 
 and jar was here — quaint, beautiful conceptions of 
 form adorned by the hand of skilful artists, from mam- 
 moth vases, whirling upon stationary pedestals, to the 
 most delicate cup that ever touched red lips. 
 
 At noon we strolled over to St. Cloud, a pleasant 
 walk of a mile, beginning with a shaded avenue, rough 
 as a country road ; then on, down a street leading to 
 the gates of the park of St. Cloud — a street so vain 
 of its destination that it was actually lifted up above 
 the gardens on either side. From the wide gates we 
 passed into a labyrinth of shaded, clean-swept ways, 
 and followed one to the avenue of the fountains, where 
 we snt upon the edge of a stone basin to await the 
 opening of the palace. For do not imagine, dear 
 reader, that you can run in and out of palaces without 
 ceremony and at all hours of the day. There is an ap- 
 pointed time ; there is the gathering outside of the 
 curious ; there is the coming of a man with rattling, 
 
SHOW PLACES NEAR PARIS. 103 
 
 ringing keys; there is the throwing open of wide gates 
 and massive doors, and then — and not until then — 
 the entering in. As for the fountains, next to those at 
 Versailles they have been widely celebrated; but as 
 they only played upon Sundays and fete days, we did 
 not see them. Their Sunday gowns of mist and flow- 
 ing water were laid aside, and naked and bare enough 
 they were this day. The wide basins, the lions and 
 dolphins, were here, with the marble nymphs, and fauns 
 and satyrs, that make a shower-bath spectacle of them- 
 selves upon gala days. When the hour refused to 
 strike, and we grew hungry, — as one will among the 
 rarest and most wonderful things, — we left the park, 
 to find the crooked little town that sits in the dust al- 
 ways at the feet of palaces. Its narrow streets ran 
 close up to the gates, and would have run in had they 
 not been shut. Here in the low, smoke-stained room 
 of an inn that was only a wine-shop, we spent the time 
 of waiting, — our elbows upon the round, dark table, 
 which, with the dirt and wooden chairs, made up its 
 only furnishing, — sipping the sour wine, cutting slices 
 from the long, melancholy stick of bread, all dust and 
 ashes, and nibbling the cheese that might have vied 
 with Samson for strength. The diamond-paned win- 
 dow was flung wide open, for the air seemed soiled and 
 stained, like the floor. Just across the narrow, empty 
 street, an old house elbowed our inn. The eaves of 
 its thatched roof were tufted with moss, out from which 
 rose a mass of delicate pink blossoms — pretty inno- 
 cents, fairly blushing for shame of their surroundings. 
 Through the long passage-way came the sound of high- 
 pitched voices — of a strange jargon from the room 
 
104 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 opening upon the street, where a heavy-eyed maid, be- 
 hind a pewter bar, served the blue-bloused workmen 
 gathered about the little tables. 
 
 The white palace of St. Cloud, with its Corinthian 
 columns, stood daintily back from its gates and the 
 low-bred town ; but its long wings had run down, like 
 curious children, to peep out through the bars ; so, you 
 will see, it formed three sides of a square. It had 
 lately been refurnished for the prince imperial. The 
 grand salons need not be described ; one is especially 
 noted as having been the place where a baby was once 
 baptized, who is now ex-emperor of France. In the 
 same room the civil contract of marriage between Na- 
 poleon I. and Marie Louise was celebrated. A few 
 elegant but less spacious rooms were interesting from 
 having been the private apartments of the poor queens 
 and empresses who have shared the throne of France. 
 Gorgeous they were in tapestry and gilding, filled with 
 a gaping crowd of visitors, and echoing to the voice of 
 a voluble guide. lioyal fingers may have touched the 
 pretty trinkets lying about ; royal forms reclined upon 
 the soft couches ; royal aching hearts beat to the tick 
 of the curious gilt clock, that bore as many faces as a 
 woman, some one wickedly said; but it was impossible 
 to realize it, or to believe that high heels, and panniers, 
 and jaunty hats upon sweet-faced, shrill-voiced Ameri- 
 can girls had not ruled and reigned here always, as they 
 did this day. 
 
 Versailles lies out beyond St. Cloud, but we gave to 
 it another day. We were a merry party, led by Dr. 
 R., who left the train at the station, and filled the 
 omnibus for the palace. There was an air of having 
 
SHOW PLACES NEAR PARIS. 105 
 
 seen better days about the city, which was at one time 
 the second of importance in France ; it fed and fattened 
 upon the court, and when at last the court went away 
 not to return, it came to grief. The most vivid recol- 
 lection I have of the great court-yard, around which 
 extend three sides of the palace, is of its round paving- 
 stones — that seemed to have risen up preparatory to 
 crying out — and the grove of weather-stained statues 
 upon high pedestals, — generals, cardinals, and states- 
 men who hated and connived against each other in 
 life, doomed now in stone to stare each other out of 
 countenance. I am sure we detected a wry face here 
 and there, to say nothing of clinched fists. It is a 
 gloomy old court-yard at best. The front of the main 
 building is all that remains of the old hunting-seat of 
 Louis XIII., which his son would not suffer to be de- 
 stroyed. It is of dingy, mildewed brick, that can never 
 in any possible light appear palatial ; and so blackened 
 and purple-stained are the statues before it that they 
 might have been just brought from the Morgue. The 
 whole palace is only a show place now — a museum 
 of painting and statuary. As for the celebrated gar- 
 dens, we walked for hours, and still they stretched away 
 on every side. We explored paths wide and narrow, 
 crooked and straight, and saw clipped trees by the 
 mile, with grottoes and the skeletons of the fountains 
 that, like naughty children, play o' Sundays, and all 
 the wonderful trees, shrubs, and flowers brought from 
 the ends of the earth, and ate honey gingerbread (fla- 
 vored with extract of turpentine) before an open booth, 
 and were ready to faint with weariness; and when at last 
 a broad avenue opened before us with the Trianons, 
 
106 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 which must be seen, at the farther end, we would not 
 have taken the whole place as a gift. It must have 
 been at this point that we fortified ourselves with the 
 gingerbread. 
 
 The Grand Trianon alone were we permitted to enter. 
 It is in the form of an Italian villa, with a ground floor 
 only, and long windows opening upon delightful gar- 
 dens. Like Versailles, it is now a mere show, although 
 a suit of apartments was fitted up here some time since, 
 in anticipation of a neighborly visit from Queen Vic- 
 toria to Eugenie, making of the little palace a kind of 
 guest chamber, a spare bedroom. As we followed a 
 winding path through the park, we came suddenly 
 upon an open glade, surrounded and shaded by forest 
 trees. Over the tiny lake, in the centre, swans were 
 sailing. Half hidden among the wide-spread, sweeping 
 branches of the trees were the scattered farm-houses 
 of a deserted village — only half a dozen in all, of rude, 
 half Swiss architecture, made to imitate age and decay, 
 quaintly picturesque. Here Marie Antoinette and her 
 court played at poverty. Do you remember how, 
 w T hen she grew weary of solemn state, she came here 
 with a few favored ones to forget her crown, and dream 
 she was a farmer's wife? The dairy was empty, the 
 marble slab bare upon which she made butter for her 
 guests. Just beyond was the mill, but the wheel was 
 still. It was a pleasant dream — a dream of Arcadia. 
 Ah, but there was a fearful awakening ! " The poorest 
 peasant in the land," said the queen, " has one little 
 spot which she can call her own ; the Queen of France 
 asks no more." So she shut the gates upon the people 
 who had claimed and held the right, from all time, to 
 
SHOW PLACES NEAR PARIS. 107 
 
 wander fit will through the gardens of their kings. 
 Then they hated her, whom they had greeted with 
 shouts of welcome when she came a bride from over 
 the border. " The Austrian ! the Austrian ! " they 
 hissed through the closed gates. And one day they 
 dragged her out from a bare cell in the Conciergerie, 
 
 — no make-believe of rough walls, of coarse fare there, 
 
 — they bound the slender hands behind her, they thrust 
 into a prison cart the form that had been used to rest 
 upon down and silken cushions, and bore her over 
 the rough stones to the scaffold. Ah, it makes one 
 shudder! 
 
 To see the two hundred rooms of the palace of 
 Versailles requires a day, at least ; but we, fearful that 
 this might be our last opportunity, determined to spend 
 the remaining hour or two and our last atom of strength 
 in the attempt. A wandering cabman pounced upon 
 us as we came down the avenue from the Trianons, 
 and bore us back to the palace, where we toiled up 
 and down the grand stairway, and peeped into the 
 chapel that had echoed to the mockery of worship in 
 the time of the king who built all this — the king who 
 loved everybody's wife but his own — so faithlessly! 
 There was a dizzy hurrying through corridors lined 
 with statuary, through one salon after another hung 
 with Horace Vernet's paintings describing the glories 
 of France — the crowning of its kings, the' reception 
 of its ambassadors, the signing of its treaties, the 
 winning of its battles; but was all this bloodshed, and 
 all this agony depicted upon canvas, for the glory of 
 France? There were immense galleries, where, on 
 every side, from cornice to floor, one was conscious of 
 
108 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 nothing but smoke and cannon, wounds and gore, 
 and rolling eyes. We walked over the prescribed 
 three miles and a half of floors slippery as ice, and 
 gazed upon the seven miles of pictures, with a feeling 
 less of pleasure or gratified curiosity than of satisfaction 
 at having done Versailles. Room after room was de- 
 voted to portraits, full lengths and half lengths, side 
 faces and full fronts ; faces to be remembered, if one 
 had not been in such mortal haste, and faces that 
 would never have been missed from the ermined robes. 
 In a quiet corner we were startled to find some of our 
 good presidents staring down upon us from the wall 
 A mutual surprise it seemed to be. But if we Ameri- 
 cans must be awkward and clownish to the last degree, 
 half civilized, and but one remove from barbarism, don't 
 let us put the acme of all this upon canvas, and hang 
 it in the palace of kings. Here was President Grant 
 represented in the saloon of a steamboat, — America to 
 the last, — one leg crossed, one heel upon the opposite 
 knee, and his head about to sink into his coat collar in 
 an agony of terror at finding himself among quality. 
 His attitude might have been considered graceful and 
 dignified in a bar-room, or even in the saloon of a 
 Mississippi steamer; but it utterly failed in both par- 
 ticulars in the Palace of Versailles, among courtly men 
 and high-bred women. 
 
A VISIT TO Bltt/SSELS. 109 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 
 
 To Brussels. — The old and new city. — The paradise and 
 purgatory of dogs. — The Hotel de Ville and Grand Place. — 
 St. Gudule. — The picture galleries. — Wiertz and his odd 
 paintings. — Brussels lace and an hour with the lace-makers. 
 How the girls found Charlotte Bronte's school. — The scene 
 of "Villette." 
 
 THERE were one or two more excursions from 
 Paris, and then, when we had grasped the fat 
 hand of Monsieur, our landlord, and kissed the dark 
 cheeks of Madame, his wife, and submitted to the same 
 from Mademoiselle, their daughter, with light hearts, 
 
 serene consciences, and the family we started for 
 
 Brussels. It is a six hours' ride by rail. 
 
 Almost as soon as the line between France and Bel- 
 gium is passed, the low hills drop away, the thatch- 
 roofed cottages give place to those of whitewashed 
 brick, with bright, red-tiled roofs. All along the way 
 were the straight poplars overrun with ivy, and the 
 land was cared for, coaxed, and fairly driven to the high- 
 est point of cultivation. Women were at work in the 
 fields, and more than one Maud Muller leaned upon her 
 rake to gaze after us. Soon, when there were only 
 level fields beneath a level sky, the windmills began 
 
110 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 to appear in the distance, slowly swinging the ghostly- 
 arms that became long, narrow sails as we neared them. 
 At two o'clock we reached Brussels, after being nearly- 
 resolved into our original element — dust. Nothing but 
 a sand-hill ever equalled the appearance we presented 
 when we stepped from the train ; nor did we need any- 
 thing so much as to be thrown over a line and beaten 
 like a carpet when we finally gained our hotel. 
 
 The old city of Brussels is crooked, and dull, and 
 picturesque; but joined to it — like an old man with 
 a gay young wife — is the beautiful Paris-like upper 
 town, with its houses covered with white stucco, and a 
 little mirror outside of every window, placed at an an- 
 gle of forty-five degrees, so that Madame, sitting within, 
 can see all that passes upon the street, herself unseen. 
 Here in the new town are the palaces, the finest 
 churches, the hotels, and Marie Therese's park, where 
 young and old walk, and chat, and make eyes at each 
 other summer evenings. Scores of strings, with a 
 poodle at one extremity and a woman at the other, 
 may here be seen, with little rugs laid upon the 
 ground for the pink-eyed puff-balls to rest upon. 
 Truly Brussels is the paradise and purgatory of dogs. 
 Anywhere upon the streets you may see great, hungry- 
 eyed animals dragging little carts pushed by women ; 
 and it is difficult to determine which is the most for- 
 lorn — the dog, the cart, or the woman. "W^e never 
 understood before what it was to "work like a^ dog." 
 At one extremity of the park was the white, new Sen- 
 ate-house; opposite, the gray, barrack-like palace of 
 the king ; upon the third side, among others, our hotel. 
 Here we were happy in finding another family of 
 
A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. Ill 
 
 friends. With them we strolled down into the old 
 town, after dinner, taking to the middle of the street, 
 in continental fashion, as naturally as ducks to water ; 
 crossing back and forth to stare up at a church or into 
 a shop window, — straggling along one after another 
 in a way that would have been marked at home, but 
 was evidently neither new nor strange here, where the 
 native population attended to their own affairs with a 
 zeal worthy of reward, and other parties of sight-seers 
 were plying their vocation with a perseverance that 
 would have won eminence in any other profession. 
 Through crooked by-ways we wandered to the Grand 
 Place of the old city — a paved square shut in by high 
 Spanish-gabled houses ornamented with the designs 
 of the various guilds. From the windows of one hung 
 the red, yellow, and black Belgian flag. There was no 
 rattle of carts, no clatter of hoofs. Down upon the 
 dark paving-stones a crowd of women, old and young, 
 with handkerchiefs crossed over their bosoms, were 
 holding a flower-market. Just behind them rose the 
 grim statues of the two counts, Egmont and Van Horn, 
 — who lost their heads while striving to gain their cause 
 against Spanish tyranny and the Spanish Inquisition, — 
 and the old royal palace, blackened and battered by 
 time and the hand of forgotten sculptors, until it seemed 
 like the mummy of a palace, half eaten away. Just 
 before them was the Hotel de Ville, with its beautiful 
 tower of gray stone, its roof a mass of dormer windows. 
 It comes to me like a picture now — the gathering 
 shadows of a summer night, the time-worn houses, 
 lovely in decay, the tawdry flag, and the heads of the 
 old women nodding over their flowers. 
 
112 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Brussels has a grand church dedicated to Saints 
 Michael and Gudule. If I could only give to you, 
 who have not seen them, some idea of the vastness 
 and beauty of these cathedrals ! But descriptions are 
 tiresome, and dimensions nobody reads. If I could 
 only tell you how far extending they are, both upon 
 earth and towards heaven — how they seem not so much 
 to have been built stone upon stone, as to have stood 
 from the foundation of the world, solitary, alone, until, 
 after long ages, some strolling town came to wonder, 
 and worship, and sit at their feet in awe ! We crept in 
 through the narrow door that shut behind us with a 
 dull echo. A chill like that of a tomb pervaded the 
 air, though a summer sun beat down upon the stones 
 outside. A forest of clustered columns rose all around 
 us. Far above our heads was a gray sky, the groined 
 arches where little birds flew about. Stained windows 
 gleamed down the vast length, broken by the divisions 
 and subdivisions, — one, far above the grand entrance, 
 like the wheel of a chariot of fire. All along the walls, 
 over the altar, and filling the chapel niches, were pic- 
 tures of saints, and martyrs, and blessed virgins, that 
 seemed in the dim distance like dots upon the wall. 
 Muffled voices broke upon the stillness. Far up the 
 nave a little company of worshippers knelt before the 
 altar — workingmen who had thrown down mallet 
 and chisel for a moment, to creep within the shadows 
 of the sanctuary; market-women, a stray water-cress 
 still clinging to the folds of their gowns ; children 
 dropping upon the rush kneeling-chairs, to mutter a 
 prayer God grant they feel, with ever and anon, above 
 the murmur of the prayer, above the drone of white- 
 
A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 113 
 
 robed priests, the low, full chant from hidden singers, 
 echoing through the arches and among the pillars, fol- 
 lowing us down the aisles to where we read upon the 
 monuments the deeds of some old knight of heathen 
 times, whose image has survived his dust — whose 
 works have followed him. 
 
 After leaving the church we wandered among and 
 through the picture galleries in the old palaces of the 
 city, — galleries of modern Belgian art, with one ex- 
 ception, where were numberless flat old Flemish pic- 
 tures, and dead Christs, livid, ghastly, horrible to look 
 upon. The best of Flemish art is not in Brussels. 
 Among the galleries of modern paintings, that of the 
 odd artist, recently deceased, Wiertz, certainly deserves 
 mention. It contains materials for a fortune to an en- 
 terprising Yankee. The subjects of the pictures are 
 allegorical, parabolical, and diabolical, the scenes being 
 laid in heaven, hell, and mid-air. In one, Napoleon I. 
 is represented surrounded by the flames of hell, folding 
 his arms in the Napoleonic attitude, while his soldiers 
 crowd around him to hold up maimed limbs and ghast- 
 ly wounds with a denunciatory and angry air. Widows 
 and orphans thrust themselves before his face with 
 anathematizing countenances. In fact, the situation is 
 decidedly unpleasant for the hero, and one longs for a 
 bucket of cold water. Many of the pictures were be- 
 hind screens, and to be seen through peep-holes — one 
 of them a ghastly thing, of coffins broken open and 
 their risen occupants emerging in shrouds. Upon the 
 walls around the room were painted half-open doors 
 and windows with pretty girls peeping out ; close down 
 to the floor, a dog kennel, from which its savage occu- 
 8 
 
114 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 pant was ready to spring; just above him, from a lat- 
 ticed window, an old concierge leaned out to ask our 
 business. Even in the pictures hanging upon the walls 
 was something of this trickery. In one the foot and 
 hand of a giant were painted out upon the frame, so 
 that he seemed to be just stepping out from his place ; 
 and I am half inclined to think that many of the peo- 
 ple walking about the room were originally framed 
 upon the walls. 
 
 Brussels is always associated in one's mind with its 
 laces. We visited one of the manufactories. A dozen 
 or twenty women were busy in a sunny, cheerful room, 
 working out the pretty leaves and flowers, with needle 
 and thread, for the point lace, or twisting the bobbins 
 among the innumerable pins in the cushion before 
 them to follow the pattern for the point applique. 
 When completed, you know, the delicate designs are 
 sewed upon gossamer lace. Upon a long, crimson- 
 covered table in the room above were spread out, in 
 tempting array, the results of this tiresome labor — 
 coiffures that would almost resign one to a bald spot, 
 handkerchiefs insnaring as cobwebs, barbes that fairly 
 pierced our hearts, and shawls for which there are no 
 words. I confess that these soft, delicate things have 
 lor women a wonderful charm — that as we turned 
 over and over in our hands the frail, yellow-white cob- 
 webs, some of us more than half forgot the tenth com- 
 mandment. 
 
 Table-cVhote over, one evening, "Where shall we 
 go? What can we do ? " queried one of the four girls 
 in our party, two of whom had but just now escaped 
 from the thraldom of a French pensionnat. 
 
A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 115 
 
 "It would be so delightful if we could walk out for 
 once by ourselves. If there were only something to 
 see — somewhere to go." 
 
 " Girls ! " exclaimed Axelle, suddenly, " was not the 
 scene of Villette laid in Brussels? Is not Charlotte 
 Bronte's boarding-school here ? I am sure it is. Sup- 
 pose we seek it out — we four girls alone." 
 
 "But how, and where?" and "Wouldn't that be 
 fine? " chorused the others. There was a hasty search 
 through guide-books ; but alas ! not a clew could we 
 find, not a peg upon which to hang the suspicions that 
 were almost certainties. 
 
 " I am sure it was here," persisted Axelle. " I wish 
 we had a Villette" 
 
 " We could get one at an English library," sug- 
 gested another. 
 
 "If there is any English library here," added a third, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 Evidently that must be our first point of departure. 
 We could ask for information there. Accordingly we 
 planned our crusade, as girls do, — the elders smiling 
 unbelief, as elders will, — and sallied out at last into 
 the summer sunshine, very brave in our hopes, very 
 glad in our unwonted liberty. A commissionaire 
 gave us the address of the bookstore we sought as 
 we were leaving the hotel. " There are no obsta- 
 cles in the path of the determined," we said, step- 
 ping out upon the Rue Royale. Across the way was 
 the grand park, a maze of winding avenues, shaded by 
 lofty trees, with nymphs, and fauns, and satyrs hiding 
 among the shrubbery, and with all the tortuous paths 
 made into mosaic pavement by the shimmering sun- 
 
116 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 light. But to Axelle Villette was more real than that 
 June day. 
 
 "Do you remember," she said, "how Lucy Snow 
 reached the city alone and at night? — how a young 
 English stranger conducted her across the park, she fol- 
 lowing in his footsteps through the darkness, and hear- 
 ing only the tramp, tramp, before her, and the drip of 
 the rain as it fell from the soaked leaves ? This must 
 be the park." 
 
 When we had passed beyond its limits, we espied a 
 little square, only a kind of alcove in the street, in the 
 centre of which was the statue of some military hero. 
 Behind it a quadruple flight of broad stone steps led 
 down into a lower and more quiet street. Facing us, 
 as we looked down, was a white stuccoed house, with a 
 glimpse of a garden at one side. 
 
 " See ! " exclaimed Axelle, joyfully ; " I believe this is 
 the very place. Don't you remember when they had 
 come out from the park, and Lucy's guide left her 
 to find an inn near by, she ran, — being frightened, — 
 and losing her way, came at last to a flight of steps 
 like these, which she descended, and found, instead of 
 the inn, the pensionnat of Madame Beck ? " Only the 
 superior discretion and worldly wisdom of the others 
 prevented Axelle from following in Lucy Snow's foot- 
 steps, and settling the question of identity then and 
 there. As it was, we went on to the library, a stuffy 
 little place, with a withered old man for sole attendant, 
 who, seated before a table in the back shop, was poring 
 over an old book. We darted in, making a bewil- 
 dering flutter of wings, and pecked him with a dozen 
 questions at once, oddly inflected : Was the scene of 
 
A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 117 
 
 Villette laid in Brussels?" and "Is the school really 
 here?" and "You dorft sny so! "though we had in- 
 sisted upon it from the first, and he had just replied in 
 the affirmative; lastly, "O, do tell us how we may 
 find it." 
 
 "You must go so-and-so," he said at length, when we 
 paused. 
 
 "Yes," we replied in chorus; "we have just come 
 from there." 
 
 "And," he went on, "you will see the statue of 
 General Beliard." 
 
 We nudged each other significantly. 
 
 "Go down the steps in the rear, and the house facing 
 you — " 
 
 " We knew it. We felt it," we cried, triumphantly ; 
 and his directions ended there. We neither heeded 
 nor interpreted the expression of expectation that stole 
 over his face. We poured out only a stream of thanks 
 which should have moistened the parched sands of his 
 soul, and then hastened to retrace our steps. We 
 found the statue asfain. We descended into the nar- 
 row, noiseless street, and stood, — an awe-struck group, 
 — before the great square house, upon the door-plate 
 of which we read, — 
 
 "pensions at de demoiselles. 
 Heger — Parent." 
 
 " Now," said Axelle, when we had drawn in with a 
 deep breath, the satisfaction and content w T hich shone 
 out again from our glad eyes, " we will ring the 
 bell." " 
 
118 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 "You will not think of it," gasped the choir of 
 startled girls. 
 
 "To be sure; what have we come for?" was her 
 reply. " We will only ask permission to see the gar- 
 den, and as the portress will doubtless speak nothing 
 but French, some one of you, fresh from school, must 
 act as mouthpiece." They stared at Axelle, at each 
 other, and at the steps leading into the upper town, as 
 though they meditated flight. "I cannot," and "I 
 cannot," said each one of the shrinking group. 
 
 Axelle laid her hand upon the bell, and gave one 
 long, strong pull. " Now," she said, quietly, " some one 
 of you must speak. You are ladies : you will not run 
 away." 
 
 And they accepted the situation. 
 
 We were shown into a small salon, where presently 
 there entered to us a brisk, sharp-featured little French 
 woman, — a teacher in the establishment, — who smiled 
 a courteous welcome from out her black eyes as we 
 apologized for the intrusion, and made known our 
 wishes. 
 
 " We are a party of American girls," we said, " who, 
 having learned to know and love Charlotte Bronte 
 through her books, desire to see the garden of which 
 she wrote in Villetter 
 
 " O, certainly, certainly," was the gracious response. 
 "Americans often come to visit the school and the 
 garden." 
 
 " Then this is the school where she was for so long 
 a time ? " we burst out simultaneously, forgetting our 
 little prepared speeches. 
 
 "Yes, mesdemoiselles ; I also was a pupil at that 
 
A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. HQ 
 
 time," was the reply. We viewed the dark little wo- 
 man with sudden awe. 
 
 " But tell us," we said, crowding around her, " was 
 she like — like — " We could think of no comparison 
 that would do justice to the subject. 
 
 The reply was a shrug of the shoulders, and, "She 
 was just a quiet little thing, in no way remarkable. I 
 am sure," she added, " we did not think her a genius; 
 and indeed, though I have read her books, I can see 
 nothing in them to admire or praise so highly ! " 
 
 "But they are so wonderful!" ventured one of our 
 number, gushingly. 
 
 " They are very untrue," she replied, while something 
 like a spark shot from the dark eyes. 
 
 O, shades of departed story-tellers, is it thus ye are 
 to be judged ? 
 
 "Madame Heger," she went on, " who still has charge 
 of the school, is a most excellent lady, and not at all 
 the person described as * Madame Beck.' " 
 
 "And M. Paul Emmanuel, — Lucy Snow's teacher- 
 lover," — we ventured to suggest with some timidity. 
 
 " Is Madame Heger's husband, and was at that time," 
 she replied, with a little angry toss of the head. After 
 this terrible revelation there was nothing more to be 
 said. 
 
 She led the way through a narrow passage, and open- 
 ing a door at the end, we stepped into the garden. 
 We had passed the class-rooms on our right — where, 
 " on the last row, in the quietest corner," Charlotte 
 and Emily used to sit. We could almost see the pale 
 faces, the shy figures bending over the desk in the 
 gathering dusk. 
 
120 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 The garden is less spacious than it was in Charlotte's 
 time, new class-rooms having been added, which cut 
 off something from its length. But the whole place 
 was strangely familiar and pleasant to our eyes. Shut 
 in by surrounding houses, more than one window over- 
 looks its narrow space. Down its length upon one 
 side extends the shaded walk, the " allee defendue" 
 which Charlotte paced alone so many weary hours, 
 when Emily had returned to England. Parallel to 
 this is the row of giant pear trees, — huge, misshapen, 
 gnarled, — that bore no fruit to us but associations 
 vivid as memories. From behind these, in the sum- 
 mer twilight, the ghost of Villetle was wont to steal, 
 and buried at the foot of "Methuselah," the oldest, we 
 knew poor Lucy's love-letters were hidden to-day. A 
 seat here and there, a few scattered shrubs, evergreen, 
 laurel, and yew, scant blossoms, paths damp, green- 
 crusted — that was all. Not a cheerful place at its 
 brightest; not a sunny spot associated in one's mind 
 with summer and girlish voices. It was very still that 
 day; the pupils were off for the long vacation, and yet 
 how full the place was to us! The very leaves over- 
 head, the stones in the walls around us, whispered a 
 story, as we walked to and fro where little feet, that 
 tired even then of life's rough way, had gone long years 
 before. 
 
 " May we take one leaf — only one ? " we asked, as 
 we turned away. 
 
 " As many as you please ; " and the little French wo- 
 man grasped at the leaves growing thick and dark 
 above her head. We plucked them with our own 
 hands, tenderly, almost reverently; then, with many 
 thanks, and our adieus, we came away. 
 
A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 121 
 
 " We have found it ! " we exclaimed, when we had 
 returned to the hotel and our friends. They only 
 smiled their unbelief. 
 
 "Do you not know — can you not see — O, do 
 you not feel ? " we cried, displaying our glistening 
 trophies, " that these could have grown nowhere but 
 upon the pear trees in the old garden where Charlotte 
 Bronte used to walk and dream ? " 
 
 And our words carried conviction to their hearts. 
 
122 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 
 
 To Waterloo. — Beggars and guides. — The Mound. — Chateau 
 Hougomont. — Victor Hugo's ''sunken road." — Antwerp. 
 
 — A visit to the cathedral. — A drive about the city. — An 
 excursion to Ghent. — The funeral services in the cathedral. 
 
 — "Poisoned? Ah, poor man!" — The watch-tower. — 
 The Friday-market square. — The nunnery. — Longfellow's 
 pilgrims to " the belfry of Bruges." 
 
 E could not leave the city without driving out 
 to the battle-field of. Waterloo. It is about a 
 dozen miles to The Mound, and you may take the pub- 
 lic coach if you choose — it runs daily. • Our party be- 
 ing large, we preferred to engage a carriage. 
 
 We left the house after breakfast, and passed through 
 the wide, delightful avenues of the Foret de Soignes, — 
 the Bois de Boulogne of Brussels, — then across the 
 peaceful country which seemed never to have known 
 anything so disturbing as war. Beyond the park lies 
 the village which gave its name to the battle-field 
 though the thickest of the fight was not there. In an 
 old brick church, surmounted by a dome, lie intombed 
 many minor heroes of the conflict. But heroes soon 
 pall upon the taste, and nothing less than Wellington 
 or Napoleon himself could have awakened a spark of 
 
WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 123 
 
 interest in us by this time. Then, too, the vivid pres- 
 ent blinded us to the past. The air was sweet with 
 summer scents. Mowers were busy in the hayfields. 
 A swarm of little barefooted beggars importuned us, 
 turning dizzy somersaults until we could see only a 
 maze of flying, dusty feet on either side. One troop, 
 satisfied or despairing, gave way to another, and the 
 guides were almost as annoying as the beggars. They 
 walk for miles out of their villages to forestall each 
 other, and meet the carriages that are sure to come 
 from Brussels on pleasant days. They drive sharp bar- 
 gains. As you near the centre of interest, competition 
 is greater, and their demands proportionately less. We 
 refused the extortionate overtures of two or three, and 
 finally picked up a shrewd-faced young fellow in a blue 
 blouse, who hung upon the step of the carriage, or ran 
 beside it for the last mile or two of the distance. The 
 village of Mont St. Jean iollows that of Waterloo. It 
 is only a scant collection of whitewashed farm build- 
 ings of brick. We rolled through it without stopping, 
 and out again between the quiet, smiling fields, our 
 minds utterly refusing to grasp the idea that they 
 had swarmed once with an army; that in this little 
 village we had just left — dull, half asleep in the sun- 
 shine — dreadful slaughter had held high carnival one 
 July day, not many years before. Even when the guide, 
 clinging to the door of the carriage, rattled over the 
 story of the struggle in a patois all his own, hardly a 
 shadow of the scene was presented to us. 
 
 As our horses slackened their pace, he stepped down 
 from his perch to gather a nosegay of the flowers by 
 the road-side, making no pause in his mechanical narra- 
 
124 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 tive — of how the Anglo-Belgian army were gathered 
 upon this road and the fields back to the wood, on 
 the last day of the fight; how many of the officers had 
 been called at a moment's notice from the gayeties at 
 Brussels, and more than one was found dead upon the 
 field the next day, under the soaking rain, dressed as 
 for a ball. He pushed back his visorless cap, uttering 
 an exclamation over the heat, and adding, in the same 
 breath, that just here, about Mont St. Jean, the battle 
 waged fiercely in the afternoon, when Ney, with his 
 brave cuirassiers, tried in vain to carry the position ; 
 and all the time, the summer sounds of twittering 
 birds and hum of locusts were in our ears ; the bare- 
 footed children still turned upon their axles beside the 
 carriage wheels as we rolled along, and that other day 
 seemed so far away, that we could neither bring it 
 near nor realize it. One grim reminder of the past 
 rose in the distance, and, as we drew near, swelled and 
 grew before our eyes. It was the huge mound of earth 
 raised two hundred feet, to commemorate the victory 
 of the allies. Hills were cut down, the very face of 
 nature changed for miles around, to rear this monu- 
 ment to pride and vain-glory. Upon its summit 
 crouches the Belgian lion. 
 
 We turn from the paved road, when we have 
 reached what seems to be a mass of unsightly ruins, 
 with only a tumbling outbuilding left here and there. 
 The whole is enclosed by a wall, which skirts also .an 
 orchard, neglected, grown to weeds. The carriage 
 stops before the great gates. It is very cool and quiet 
 in the shaded angle of the battered wall as we step 
 down. It has been broken and chipped as if by pick- 
 
WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 125 
 
 axes. Ah ! the shot struck hardest here. The top of 
 the low wall is irregular ; the bricks have been knocked 
 out ; the dust has sifted down ; the mosses have 
 gathered, and a fringe of grass follows all its length. 
 Even sweet wild flowers blossom where the muskets 
 rested in those dreadful days. At intervals, half way 
 up its height, a brick is missing. Accident ? Ah, no ; 
 hastily constructed loopholes, through which the 
 English fired at first, before the horrible time when 
 they beat each other down with the butts of their 
 guns which they fought hand to hand here, like wild 
 beasts. 
 
 We enter the court-yard. Only a roughly plastered 
 room or two remain, where the greed that gloats even 
 over the field of blood offers souvenir's of the place 
 importunately. In the centre of this court-yard may 
 still be seen the well that was fille 1 with corpses. It 
 must have given out blood for many a day. Upon 
 one side are the remains of the building used for a 
 hospital in the beginning of the fight, but where the 
 wounded and dying perished in torment, Avhen the 
 French succeeded in firing the chateau ; for this is 
 Hougomont. 
 
 We came out at the gateway where we had entered ; 
 crossed the slope under the shadow of the branches 
 from the apple trees, and followed the road winding 
 through wheat-fields to The Mound. Breast-high on 
 either side rose the nodding crests ; and among them 
 wild flowers, purple, scarlet, and blue, fairly dazzled 
 our eyes, as they waved with the golden grain in the 
 sunshine. "O, smiling harvest-fields," we said, "you 
 have been sown with heroes ; you have been enriched 
 with blood ! " 
 
126 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 It was a long, dizzy climb up the £ice of The Mound 
 to the narrow foothold beside the platform where 
 rests that grim, gigantic lion. Once there, we held to 
 every possible support in the hurricane of wind that 
 seized us, while the guide gave a name to each historic 
 farm and village spread out before our eyes. Only a 
 couple of miles cover all the battle-field — the smallest 
 where grand armies ever met ; but the slaughter was 
 the more terrible. 
 
 Connected with an inn at the foot of The Mound is 
 a museum of curiosities. Here are queer old helmets 
 worn by the cuirassiers, hacked and rust-stained ; bro- 
 ken swords, and old-fashioned muskets ; buttons, and 
 bullets even — everything that could be garnered after 
 such a sowing of the earth. 
 
 In unquestioning faith we bought buttons stained 
 with mildew, and bearing upon them, in raised letters, 
 the number of a regiment. Alas ! reason told us, later, 
 that the buttons disposed of annually here would sup- 
 ply an ordinary army. And rumor added, that they 
 are buried now in quantities, to be exhumed as often 
 as the supply fails. 
 
 I remembered Victor Hugo to have said in JLes Mi- 
 ser ables something in regard to a sunken road here, 
 which proved a pitfall to the French, and helped, in 
 his judgment, to turn the fortunes of the day. But 
 we had seen no sunken road. I mentioned it to the 
 guide, who said that Victor Hugo spent a fortnight ex- 
 amining the ground before writing that description of 
 the battle. " He lodged at our house," he added. " My 
 father was his guide. What he wrote was all quite 
 true. There is now no road such as he described ; 
 
^ WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 127 
 
 that was all changed when the earth was scraped to- 
 gether to form The Mound." 
 
 We lunched at the inn, surrounded by mementos 
 and trophies, and served by an elderly woman, whose 
 father had been a sergeant in the Belgian army, then 
 late in the afternoon drove back to town. 
 
 The pleasant days at Brussels soon slipped by, and 
 then we were off to Antwerp — only an hour's ride. 
 I will tell you nothing about the former wealth and 
 commercial activity of the city — that in the sixteenth 
 century it was the wealthiest city in Europe, &c, &c. 
 For all these interesting particulars, see Murray's Hand- 
 book of Northern Germany. As soon ns we had se- 
 cured rooms at the hotel, dropped our satchels and 
 umbrellas, we followed the chimes to the cathedral. 
 The houses of the people have crept close to it, until 
 many of them, old and gray, have fairly grown to it, 
 like barnacles to a ship ; or it seemed as though they 
 had built their nests, like the rooks, under the moss- 
 grown eaves. The interior of the cathedral was sin- 
 gularly grand and open. As w r e threw our shawls 
 about us — a precaution never omitted — an old man 
 shuffled out from a dark corner to show the church, 
 take our francs, and pull aside the curtains from before 
 the principal pictures, if so dignified a name as curtain 
 can be applied to the dusty, brown cambric that ob- 
 structed our vision. Rubens's finest pictures are here, 
 and indeed the city abounds in all that is best of Flem- 
 ish art, — most justly, since it was the birthplace of its 
 master. Rubens in the flesh we had seen at the 
 Louvre ; the spiritual manifestation was reserved for 
 Antwerp ; and to recall the city is to recall a series of 
 visions of which one may not speak lightly. 
 
128 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Across from the cathedral, upon a wide wooden 
 bench in the market-place we sat a moment to con- 
 sider our ways — the signal for the immediate swoop- 
 ing down upon us of guides and carriages, and the 
 result of which was, our departure in a couple of dingy- 
 open vehicles to finish the city. We crawled about 
 the town like a diminutive funeral procession, dis- 
 mounting at the Church of St. Jacques to see the pic- 
 tures, with which it is filled. In one of the chapels 
 was a young American artist, copying Rubens's picture 
 of " A Holy Family " — the one in which his two wives 
 and others of his family enact the part of Mary, Mar- 
 tha, St. Jerome, &c. Behind the high altar is the 
 tomb of Rubens, with an inscription of sufficient length 
 to extinguish an ordinary man. There was a museum, 
 too, in the city, rich in the works of Rubens and Vandyck, 
 and the fine park in the new part of the town, as well 
 as the massive docks built by the first Napoleon, were 
 yet to be seen. The older members of the party 
 were in the first carriage, and received any amount of 
 valuable information, which was transmitted to us who 
 followed in a succession of shouts sounding as much 
 like " fire ! " as anything else, with all manner of beck- 
 oning, and pointing, and wild throwing up of arms, that 
 undoubtedly gave vent to their feelings, but brought 
 only confusion and distraction to ouf minds. Not to 
 be outdone, our driver began a series of utterly unintel- 
 ligible explanations, the only part of which we under- 
 stood in the least was, when pointing to the docks, he 
 ejaculated, "Napoleon!" At that we nodded our 
 heads frantically, which only encouraged him to go on. 
 Pausing before a low, black house, exactly like all the 
 
WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 129 
 
 others, he pointed to it with his whip. It said " Hy- 
 draulics " upon a rickety sign over the door. There 
 were old casks, and anchors, and ropes, and rotting 
 wood all around, for it was down upon the wharves. 
 We tried to look enlightened, gratified even, and suc- 
 ceeded so well that he entered upon an elaborate dis- 
 sertation in an unknown tongue. What do you sup- 
 pose it was all about ? Can it be that he was explain- 
 ing the principles of hydraulics ? 
 
 We made, one day, an excursion from Antwerp to 
 Ghent and Bruges. We left the train at Ghent to 
 walk up through the narrow streets, that have no side- 
 walks, to the cathedral. There was a funeral within. 
 The driver of the hearse profusely decorated with in- 
 verted feather dusters, was comfortably smoking his 
 pipe outside. A little hunchbacked guide, with great, 
 glassy eyes, and teeth like yellow fangs, led us up the 
 aisle to the screen beside the high altar, where we 
 looked between the tombs and the monuments, upon 
 the long procession of men circling around the coffin 
 in the choir, each with a lighted candle in hand. As 
 there were only about a dozen candles in all, and each 
 must hold one while he passed the coffin, it was a piece 
 of dexterity, at least, to manage them, which so en- 
 grossed our attention, that we caught but an occasional 
 sentence from our guide's whispered story of the 
 seventh bishop of Ghent, who donated the pulpit to the 
 cathedral, and around whose marble feet we were try- 
 ing to peep ; of the ninth, who was poisoned as he went 
 upon some mission ("Poisoned? Ah, poor man !" we 
 ejaculated, absently, our eyes anxiously fixed upon one 
 man to whom had been given no candle as yet) ; of the 
 9 
 
130 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 tall brass candlesticks, supposed to have been brought 
 from England in the time of Cromwell, and a host more 
 of fragmentary information, forgotten now. The whole 
 interior of the church is rich in decoration, black and 
 w r hite marble predominating, w T ith pictures of the early 
 Flemish school filling every available space. Once out 
 of the church, we climbed into an ark of a carriage, and 
 drove about the city, our little guide standing beside 
 the driver, back to the horses most of the time, to 
 pour out a torrent of history and romance. A most 
 edifying spectacle it would have been anywhere else. 
 Do read (Henry Taylor's " Philip von Artevelde '^be- 
 fore going to Ghent: the mingled romance ana his- 
 tory throw a charm about the place and people which 
 bare history can never give. Veritable Yankees these 
 old Flemish weavers seem to have been, with a touch 
 of the Irish in their composition — always up in arms 
 for their rights, and striking out wherever they saw a 
 head. There is a new part to the city, with a grand 
 opera-house, shaded promenades and palatial dwellings, 
 but one cares only for the narrow, dingy streets, and 
 the old market squares, in which every stone could 
 tell a story. 
 
 We saw the tall, brick watch-tower, where still hangs 
 the bell that tolled, — 
 
 " I am Roland, I am Roland! There is victory in the land," 
 
 and the old Hotel de Ville, of conglomerate architec- 
 ture, one side of which, in the loveliest flamboyant 
 Gothic imaginable, seems crumbling away from its very 
 richness. In the Friday-market square — it chancing 
 to be Friday — was a score of bustling busybodies, 
 
WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 131 
 
 swarming like bees. Here, in the old, quarrelsome times, 
 battles were fought between the different guilds. I say 
 battles, because at one time fifteen hundred were slain 
 in this very square. Such a peaceful old square as it 
 seemed to be the day of our visit ! the old gray houses, 
 that have echoed to the sound of strife, fairly smiling in 
 the sunshine, and the market women kneeling upon the 
 stones which have run with blood. At one corner rose 
 a tower, and half way up its height may still be seen 
 the iron rod, over which was hung imperfect linen, to 
 shame the weaver who had dared to offer it in the 
 market. 
 
 There is a great nunnery here in Ghent — a town 
 of itself, surrounded by a moat and a wall, where are 
 six hundred or more sisters, from families high and 
 low, who tend the sick, weave lace, and mortify the 
 flesh in black robes and white veils. When they be- 
 come weary of it, they may return to the world, the 
 flesh, and — their homes : no vows bind them. We 
 drove along the streets past the cell-like houses where 
 they dwell. Over the door of each was the name of 
 her patron saint. It seemed a quiet retreat, a noiseless 
 city, notwithstanding the six hundred women! But 
 by far the most interesting sight, because the most 
 ancient in the quaint old city, was the archway and 
 turret of the old royal castle, erected a thousand years 
 ago ; only this gateway remains. Here John o' Gaunt 
 was born. Built all round, and joined to it, are houses 
 of more recent date, themselves old and tottering, and 
 the arch beneath which kings and queens rode once, is 
 now the entrance to a cotton factory. • 
 
 We had only a few hours at Bruges — the city once 
 
132 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 more powerful than Antwerp even, but where not a 
 house has been raised for a hundred years, and where 
 nearly a third of its inhabitants are paupers. But de- 
 cay and dilapidation are strong elements of the pic- 
 turesque, and nothing seen that clay was more charm- 
 ing than a piece of wall, still standing, belonging to 
 the old Charles V.'s palace — honey-combed, black, 
 of florid Gothic architecture, rising from the quiet 
 waters of the canal. At one end it threw an arch 
 over the street, with a latticed window above it, be- 
 neath which we passed, after crossing the bridge. 
 More than one picture of Bruges rests within my 
 memory — its canals spanned by the picturesque 
 bridges, and overhung with willows that dipped 
 their long branches into the water, and the quaint old 
 houses with many-stepped gables, rising sheer from 
 the stream. 
 
 But with all its past grandeur, the old city is best 
 known to us Americans through the chimes from its 
 belfry tower, and we were some of Longfellow's pil- 
 grims. We drove into the great paved Place under 
 the shadow of the belfry tower when its shadows were 
 growing long, and watched the stragglers across the 
 square — women in queer black-hooded cloaks ; chubby 
 little blue-eyed maidens with school-books in hand ; a 
 party of tourists ; and last, but by no means least, the 
 ubiquitous American girl, with an immense bow on the 
 back of her dress, and her eye fixed steadily upon the 
 milliner's shop just visible around the corner. Almost 
 three hundred feet the dingy brick tower rose above 
 us, with low wings on either side, where were once the 
 halls of some guilds, in the days when the tower was 
 
WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 133 
 
 a lookout to warn of coming foes, — when the square 
 w r as planned for defence. In a little court-yard, gained 
 by passing under its arch, we watched and listened, 
 until at last the sweet tinkle of the silver-toned bells 
 broke the hush of waiting — so far away, so heavenly, 
 we held our breath, lest we should lose the sound 
 that fell 
 
 "Like the psalms from some old cloister when the nuns sing in 
 the choir, 
 And the great bell tolled among them like the chanting of a 
 friar." 
 
 We came back to Antwerp that night, tired, but tri- 
 umphant, feeling as though we had read a page from 
 an old book, or sung a strain from an old song. 
 
134 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A TEIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 
 
 Up the Meuse to Rotterdam. — Dutch sights and ways. — The 
 pretty milk-carriers. — The tea-gardens. — Preparations for 
 the Sabbath. — An English chapel. — "The Lord's barn." — 
 From Rotterdam to the Hague. — The queen's " House in the 
 Wood." — Pictures in private drawing-rooms. — The bazaar. — 
 An evening in a Dutch tea-garden. — Amsterdam to a stran- 
 ger. — The "sights." — Tbe Jews' quarter. — The family 
 whose home was upon the canals. — Out of the city. — The 
 pilgrims. 
 
 T nine o'clock, the next morning, we left Ant- 
 werp for Rotterdam. Two hours by rail brought 
 us to a place with an unpronounceable name, ending in 
 " djk," where we were to take a steamer. How delight- 
 ful, after the dust and heat of the railway carriage, 
 were the two hours that followed ! The day was 
 charming, the passengers numerous, but scattered 
 about the clean, white deck, picturesquely, upon the 
 little camp stools, drinking brandy and water as a pre- 
 ventive to what seemed impossible, eating fruit, read- 
 ing, chatting, or pleased, like ourselves, with the pan- 
 orama before their eyes. In and out of the intricate 
 passages to the sea we steamed, the land and water all 
 around us level as a floor ; the only sign of life the 
 
A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 13.3 
 
 slow-revolving arms of the windmills, near and far, 
 with here and there a solitary mansion shut in by tall 
 trees; or, as we wound in and out among the islands 
 fringed with green rushes, and waving grasses that fairly 
 came out into the water to meet us, and sailed up the 
 Meuse, the odd Dutch villages that had turned their 
 backs to the river, though their feet were still in the 
 water over which hung rude wooden balconies, or still 
 ruder bay-windows, filled with pots of flowers. This 
 monotonous stretch of sea and land might grow tire- 
 some after a while, but there was something peculiarly 
 restful in that sail up the wide mouth of the river, 
 beckoned on by the solemn arms of the windmills. 
 
 When we reached Rotterdam, how strange it was to 
 find, instead of a row of houses across from our hotel, 
 a wharf and a row of ships ! Such a great, comfortable 
 room as awaited us! with deep, wide arm-chairs, a 
 heavy round table suggesting endless teas, and toast 
 unlimited, and everything else after the same hearty, 
 substantial manner. There was no paper upon the 
 walls, but, in its place, paintings upon canvas. Delilah 
 sat over the mantel, with the head of the sleeping Sam- 
 son in her lap, and Rebekah and the thirsty camels 
 were behind our bed curtains. From the wide win- 
 dows we watched the loading and unloading of the 
 ships, while the song of the sailors came in on the even- 
 ing breeze, and with it, we half-fancied, the odor of 
 sandal-wood and spices from the East Indiamen an- 
 chored across the way. Our hotel was upon the 
 Boompjes, the quay that borders the river; but 
 through nearly all the streets flow the canals, deep 
 enough to float large ships. You can appreciate the 
 
136 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 advantage of sailing a ship to the very door of one's 
 warehouse, as you might drive a cart up to unload ; 
 and you can imagine, perhaps, the peculiar appearance 
 of the city, with its mingled masts and chimneys, its 
 irregular, but by no means picturesque, houses, and 
 the inhabitants equally at home upon water or land. 
 Among the women of the lower classes may still be 
 seen some national peculiarities in dress, shown princi- 
 pally in the startling ornaments — twisted gold wire 
 horns, and balls, and rings of mammoth size thrust out 
 from their caps just above their ears. Whether their 
 bare red arms would come under the head of dress, 
 might be questioned ; but a national peculiarity they 
 certainly were, and unlike anything ever seen before 
 in the way of human flesh. Was that painfully deep 
 magenta hue nature or art? We could never tell. 
 There were some very pretty faces among the girls 
 carrying milk about the city in bright brass cans, or in 
 pails suspended from a yoke over their shoulders — 
 faces of one type, round, red-cheeked, blue-eyed, with 
 the mouth called rosebud by poets, and bewitching 
 little brown noses of an upward tendency. As they all 
 wore clean purple calico gowns, and had each a small 
 white cap on their heads, the resemblance among them 
 was rather striking. These caps left the whole top of 
 the head exposed to the sun. Only an iron-clad, fire- 
 proof brain could endure it, I am sure. 
 
 ISTot a beggar did we see anywhere in Holland. 
 The people seemed thoroughly industrious and thrifty. 
 A gentleman connected with the civil service there — 
 an agreeable, cultivated man, who had been half over 
 the world, written a book or two, and parted his hair in 
 
A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 137 
 
 the middle — gave the people credit for all these, with 
 many more good qualities, and added, "They are the 
 simplest minded people in the world. Why, would you 
 believe it, one of the canal bridges was run into and 
 broken down, the other day, — a fortnight ago, — and 
 it has been town talk ever since. No two men meet 
 upon the street without, 'Have you heard about the 
 bridge?"' And sure enough, when we reached the 
 scene of the accident, in our after-dinner walk through 
 the city, quite a crowd was collected to watch the pas- 
 sage of a temporary ferry-boat, the simplest contrivance 
 imaginable, only an old barge pulled back and forth by 
 ropes. Still later we found the entrance to a narrow 
 street choked with people, though nothing more unu- 
 sual seemed to be taking place than the bringing out 
 of a table and a few chairs. 
 
 Upon the outskirts of the city are pleasant tea-gar- 
 dens, often attached to club-rooms, where concerts are 
 held Sunday evenings, attended by the upper classes. 
 We walked through one, over the pebbled paths, and 
 among the deserted tables, and then returned to see 
 more of the town. It was Saturday night. All the 
 little girls upon the street had their locks twisted up 
 in papers so tight and fast that they could shut neither 
 eyes nor mouth, but seemed to be in a continual state 
 of wonderment. All their mothers were down upon 
 their hands and knees, scrubbing the doorsteps and 
 sidewalk, in preparation for the Sabbath. The streets 
 were dirty and uninviting with a few exceptions, yet 
 hardly more so than could be expected, when you 
 remember that nearly the whole city is a line of 
 wharves ; but we felt no disposition to walk through 
 
138 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 it in our slippers, as the guide-book in praising its 
 cleanliness, says you may. What an advantage it 
 would be to the world if the compilers of guide- 
 books would only visit the places they describe so 
 graphically! We spent a quiet Sabbath here — the 
 fourth of July — with not so much as a torpedo to dis- 
 turb its serenity or mark the day, attending church at 
 the English chapel, and joining in the responses led by 
 a clear soprano voice behind us, which we had some 
 desire to locate ; but when we turned, at the con- 
 clusion of the service, there was only a row of horrible 
 chignons to be seen, to none of which, I am sure, the 
 voice belonged. 
 
 There is nothing to be seen in Rotterdam but its 
 shipping. One great, bare church we did visit — " the 
 Lord's barn ; " for these cathedrals, stripped of altar, 
 and image, and stained glass, and boarded into stiff 
 pews, without the least regard to the eternal fitness of 
 tilings, are ugly enough. There is somewhere here a 
 collection of Ary Scheffer's works, — in the city I mean, 
 t— but we did not see it. It is less than an hour's ride 
 by rail from Rotterdam to the Hague, with the same 
 delightfully monotonous scenery all along the way- — 
 meadows smooth and green, and fields white for the 
 harvest, separated by the almost invisible canals. No 
 Avonder the Spaniards held the Low Countries with a 
 grasp of iron — the whole land is a garden. The 
 Hague, being the residence of the court, is much after 
 the pattern of all continental capitals, with wide, white 
 streets, white stuccoed houses of regular and beautiful 
 appearance, and fine, large parks and pleasure-grounds 
 filled with deer, and shaded by grand old elms as large 
 
A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 139 
 
 as those in our own land, but lacking the long, sweeping 
 branches. A mile from the city is " The House in the 
 Wood," the private residence of the queen of the 
 Netherlands. The wood is heavy and of funereal air, 
 but the little palace is quite charming within, though 
 upon the exterior only a plain brick country-house. 
 The rooms are small, and hung with rice-paper, or em- 
 broidered white satin, with which also much of the 
 furniture is covered. The bare floors are of polished 
 wood, with a square of carpet in the centre, the border 
 of which was worked by hand. " Please step over it," 
 said the neat little old woman who was showing us 
 through, which we accordingly did. There was a 
 home-like air, very unpalatial, about it all, — as though 
 the lady of the house might have been entertaining call- 
 ers, or having a dress-maker in the next room. Deli- 
 cate trinkets were scattered about — pretty, rare things 
 worth a fortune, with any amount of old Dutch china 
 in the cosy dining-room. In one of the rooms hung 
 the portrait of a handsome young man, — just as there 
 hang portraits of handsome young men in our houses. 
 This was the eldest son of the queen, — heir to the 
 throne, — who, rumor says, is still engaged in that ag- 
 ricultural pursuit so fascinating to young men — the 
 sowing of wild oats. In the next room was a portrait 
 of Queen Sophie herself — r a delicate, queenly face — a 
 face of character. The walls of the ball-room are en- 
 tirely covered with paintings upon wood by Rubens 
 and his pupils. " Speak low, if you j^lease," said our 
 little old woman ; " the queen is in the next room, and 
 she has a bad headache to-day." I am sure she had a 
 dress-maker ! As we stooped to examine a rug worked 
 
140 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 by the royal fingers, an attendant passed, bearing upon 
 a silver salver the remains of her majesty's lunch. 
 
 From the palace we drove back to town to visit two 
 private collections of paintings. It seemed odd, if not 
 impertinent, to walk through the drawing-rooms of 
 strangers, criticise their pictures, and fee their servants. 
 Upon the table, in one, were thrown down carelessly 
 the bonnet and gloves of the lady of the house. I was 
 tempted to carry them off. Only a vigorous early 
 training, and the thought of a long line of j)ious an- 
 cestors, prevented. Here were pictures from most of 
 the earlier and some of the later Dutch artists — Paul 
 Potter's animals, Jan Steen's pots and pans, Vander- 
 velde's quays and luggers, and green, foaming seas, and 
 even a touch or two from the brush of the master of 
 Dutch art. We stopped on our way back to the hotel, 
 at a bazaar, — a place of beguilement, with long rooms 
 full of everything beautiful in art, everything tempting 
 to the eye, — and after dinner went out to one of the 
 adjacent tea-gardens. It was filled with family parties 
 drinking tea around little tables. The music was fine, 
 though unexpected at times, as, for instance, when a 
 trumpet blew a startling blast, and a little man in its 
 range sprang from his seat as though blowm out of his 
 place. It was amusing and interesting to watch the 
 stream of promenaders circling around the musicians' 
 stand — broad, heavily-built men, long of body, short 
 of limbs ; women " square-rigged," of easy, good- 
 natured countenance. I doubt if there was a nerve in 
 the whole assembly. 
 
 At noon the next day, we took the train for Amster- 
 dam — another two hours' ride. The land began to un- 
 
A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 141 
 
 dulate as we went towards the sea, with the shifting 
 hillocks of sand raised by wind and wave. We passed 
 Leyden, famous for its resistance to the Spaniards, as 
 well as for having been the birthplace of Rembrandt 
 and a score of lesser lights, and Haarlem, known for 
 its great organ, and still the sand-hills rose one above 
 the other, until they shut out everything beyond. It 
 was only when we made a sharp turn, and struck out 
 in a straight line for the city, that the Zuyder Zee 
 opened before us, the curving line of land along its 
 edge alive with windmills. We counted a hundred 
 and twenty in sight at one time, and still did not 
 exhaust them ; so many skipped and whirled about, and 
 refused to be counted. It hardly seems possible that 
 the city of Amsterdam is built upon piles driven into 
 the sand and mud. Certainly, when you have been 
 jolted and shaken until your teeth chatter, for a long 
 mile, in one of the hotel omnibuses from the station 
 through the narrow streets and over the rough pave- 
 ments, you will, think there must be a tolerably firm 
 foundation. Such a peaceful, sleepy, free-from-d anger 
 air, these slimy canals give to the cities! You forget 
 that just beyond the dikes the mighty, restless sea 
 lurks, and watches day and night for a chance to rush 
 in and claim its own. The canals run in a succession 
 of curves, one within the other, all through the city. 
 Upon the quays are the dwellings and warehouses. In 
 the narrow streets, crossing them by means of end- 
 less bridges, are the shops and dwellings of the lower 
 classes. Looking down a street, no two houses present 
 an unbroken line. Tluey have all settled in their places 
 until they nod, and leer, and wink at each other, in a 
 
142 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 decidedly sociable, intoxicated manner. The whole 
 city, to a stranger, is a curious sight — the arched 
 bridges over the interminable canals ; the clumsy boats 
 •(for the canals are too shallow to admit anything but 
 coasters and river boats) ; the antic and antiquated 
 houses with high gables, rising in steps, to the street ; 
 the women of the lower classes, with yokes over their 
 shoulders, and long-eared white caps on their heads, 
 surmounted by naked straw bonnets of obsolete fash- 
 ion and coal-scuttle shape, and out and from which, on 
 either side, protruded all the wonderful tinkling orna- 
 ments of which the prophet speaks ; the long quays 
 and streets utterly bare of trees ; the iron rods thrust 
 out from the houses half way up their height, upon 
 which all manner of garments, freshly washed, hang 
 over the street to dry. Down in an open Place stands 
 the dark, square palace, grand and grim, where Hor- 
 tense played queen a little time while Louis Bona- 
 parte was king of Holland. Near the palace is a 
 national monument, for the Dutch, too, remember their 
 brave. There are old and new churches also to be 
 seen, but churches bare of everything which clothes ca- 
 thedrals with beauty, having been stripped in the time 
 of the reformation. I suppose one should rejoice; but 
 we did miss the high altar, the old carved saints, and 
 the pictures in the chapels. 
 
 Some of the finest paintings of the Dutch school are 
 in the national museum here ; genre pictures, many, if 
 not most of them, but pleasant to look at, if not of the 
 highest art ; and we visited another collection of the 
 same, left by a M. Van der Hoop. There are several 
 other private collections thrown open to the public. 
 
A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 143 
 
 But after all, the most charming picture was the Jews 1 
 quarter of the city. I know it was horribly filthy, and 
 so crowded that we could hardly make our way; 
 I know it was filled with squalor and rags, and great 
 dark eyes, and breathed an odor by no means of sanc- 
 tity. The dusky, luminous-eyed people seemed to 
 move, and breathe, and hold a constant bazaar in the 
 lane-like streets filled with everything known and un- 
 known in merchandise, or leaning out from the windows 
 of the tottering houses, their arms crossed over the 
 sill, to dream away a lifetime. Still there was a fasci- 
 nation about it all, a suggestion of vagabondism, of 
 Ishmaelitish wanderings, of having " here no continu- 
 ing city," that touched the heart of a certain Methodist 
 minister's daughter in our party. 
 
 Sometimes the houses rise directly from the water, 
 as did our hotel, the entrance being gained from 
 another street in front. Our room was like a town 
 hall, with mediaeval bed furniture and sofa, high chest 
 of drawers, and great round table that might have 
 come in with the Dutch when they took Holland. The 
 deep windows looked down upon a canal. Across from 
 them, anchored to the quay as if for a lifetime, was 
 one of the river boats. Early in the morning the wife 
 of the skipper — a square woman, brown-faced, with 
 faded, braided hair — ran out bareheaded into the 
 town, coming back with her arms mysteriously full. 
 Down into the cabin she disappeared, from whence di- 
 rectly came a sound of sputtering and frying, with a 
 most savory odor. Up she would come again — frying 
 pan in hand to corroborate her statement — to call her 
 husband to breakfast. He was never ready to respond, 
 
144 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 never, though he was doing nothing to support his en- 
 ergetic family at the time, but coiling and uncoiling 
 old ropes, or rubbing at invisible spots with a handful 
 of rope-yarn. I know he only delayed to add to his 
 own dignity and the importance of his final advent. 
 Breakfast over, there followed such a commotion in the 
 little world as I cannot describe — a shaking out of 
 garments, a scraping out of plates, and throwing into 
 the canal the refuse of the feast, a flying up with pots 
 and pans for no object whatever but to clatter down 
 again with the same, and all in the face and eyes of 
 the town, with nevertheless the most absorbed and un- 
 conscious air imaginable. When it w T as over, some- 
 w T hat red in the face, but serene, the wife would appear 
 upon the deck, to sit in the shadow of a sail and mend 
 her husband's stockings, or put on a needed patch. 
 We left the boat still fast to the quay; but I know 
 that some day, when it was filled with scented oils, and 
 rouge, and borax, and all the other things exported from 
 the manufactories here, our skipper and his wife went 
 sailing out of the canals and along the edge of the sea 
 or up the Rhine, the stockings all mended, and the 
 good woman not above giving a strong pull at the 
 ropes. 
 
 To drive about the streets of Amsterdam is slow 
 torture, so rough are the pavings, so springless the car- 
 riages ; but to roll along the smooth, wide roads in the 
 suburbs is delightful. Upon one side is a canal, stag- 
 nant, lifeless, with a green weed growing upon its still 
 surface, which often for a long distance entirely hides 
 the w r ater ; beyond the canal are pleasant little gardens 
 and a row of low, comfortable-looking wooden houses 
 
A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 145 
 
 with green doors. Before each door is a narrow bridge 
 — a neatly-painted plank with hand-rails — thrown 
 over the canal, to be swung around or raised like a 
 drawbridge at night, making every man's house a 
 moated castle. We passed a fine zoological garden 
 here upon the outskirts of the city, a garden of animals 
 that ranks next to the famous one in London ; but had 
 no time to visit it, nor did we see any of the charitable 
 institutions in which Amsterdam excels. 
 
 "You know the pilgrim fathers?" said Emmie — 
 whose family had preceded us by a day or two — the 
 night after our arrival. " O, yes ; had not our whole lives 
 been straightened out after their maxims?" "Well, 
 we've found the house where it is said they held meet- 
 ings before they embarked for America. Wouldn't you 
 like to see it ? " Of course we would ; in fact, it would 
 be showing no more than proper respect to our fore- 
 fathers. So six of us — women and girls — put our- 
 selves under her guidance. We found a narrow, dirty 
 street, the dwellers in which stared after us curiously. 
 Between two old houses was an opening, hardly wide 
 enough to be called an alley, hardly narrow enough to 
 be looked upon as a gutter. Into this we crowded. 
 " There ; this is the house," said Emmie, laying her 
 slight fingers upon the old stone wall before us. It was 
 quite bare, and devoid of ornament or entrance, being 
 evidently the back or side of a house. Down from the 
 peak of the gable looked a solitary window. A rude 
 balcony, holding a few plants, was below it, with 
 freshly-washed clothes hanging from its rail. We 
 rolled our eyes, experienced a shiver that may have 
 been caused by awe or the damp chill of the spot, and 
 10 
 
146 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 came out to find the narrow street half filled with star- 
 ing men and women crowding about the point of our 
 disappearance, while from the upper end of the street, 
 and even around the corner, others hastened to join the 
 whispering, wondering crowd. How could we explain ? 
 It was utterly impossible ; so we came quickly and 
 quietly away ; but whether this house had ever been a 
 church, whether the pilgrim fathers ever saw it, or in- 
 deed whether there ever were any pilgrim fathers, are 
 questions I cannot undertake to answer. 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 147 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 
 
 First glimpse of the Rhine. — Cologne and the Cathedral. — 
 " Shosef in ter red coat." — St. Ursula and the eleven thou- 
 sand virgins. — Up the Rhine to Bonn. — The German stu- 
 dents. — Rolandseck. — A search for a resting-place. — Our 
 Dutch friend and his Malays. — The story of Hildegund. — 
 A quiet Sabbath. — Our Dutch friend's reply. — Coblentz. — 
 The bridge of boats. — Ehrenbreitstein, over the river. — A 
 scorching day upon the Rhine. — -Romance under difficulties. 
 
 — Mayence. — Frankfort. — Heidelberg. — The ruined castle. 
 
 — Baden-Baden. — A glimpse at the gambling. — The new, 
 and the old " Schloss." — The Black Forest. — Strasbourg. — 
 The mountains. 
 
 WE had made a sweep through Belgium and Hol- 
 land, intending to return by way of the Rhine 
 and Switzerland. Accordingly, in leaving Amsterdam, 
 we struck across the country to Arnhem, where we 
 found a pleasant hotel near the station, outside of the 
 town. Here we spent the night in order to break the 
 monotony of the ride to Cologne. After climbing stairs 
 to gain our room, wide, but so perpendicular that we 
 were really afraid to descend by them, we had, from a 
 rickety, upper piazza, our first glimpse of the Rhine, 
 winding through flat, green meadows, with hardly 
 more than a suggestion of hills in the distance. There 
 
148 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 is nothing of interest to detain one at Arnhem. The 
 guide-book informed us that it was the scene of Sir 
 Philip Sidney's death ; but no one in the hotel seemed 
 ever to have heard of that gentle knight — sans peur 
 et sans reproche. 
 
 We reached Cologne at noon the next day. The 
 road makes a detour through the plain, so that, for 
 some time before gaining it, we could see the city 
 nestling under the wings of the great cathedral. How 
 can I tell you anything about it ? If I say that it is 
 five times the length of any church you know, and that 
 the towers, when completed, are to be the same height 
 as the length, will my words bring to you any con- 
 ception of its size ? If I say that it was partially built 
 a couple of centuries before the discovery of America; 
 that it was worked upon for three hundred years, and 
 then suffered to remain untouched until recently ; that 
 the architect who planned it has been forgotten for 
 centuries, so that the idea embodied in its form is like 
 some beautiful old tradition, whose origin is unknown, 
 — will this give you any idea of its age ? The new 
 part, seen from our hotel, was so white and beautiful, 
 that, when we had passed around to the farther side, 
 it was like waking from a sleep of a thousand years. 
 The blackened, broken Gothic front told its own story 
 of age and decay. Ah, the interminable dusky length 
 of its interior, when we had crept within the doors ! 
 It was a very world in itself, full of voices, and echoes, 
 and shadows of its own. We followed the guide over 
 the rough stone floor, giving no heed to the tiresome 
 details that fell in broken words and monotonous tones 
 from his lips. I recall nothing now but the fact ( ! ) 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 149 
 
 that behind the choir lie buried, in all their magnifi- 
 cence, the Three Wise Men of the East. As we came 
 down one of the shadowy aisles, we paused before a 
 fine, old, stained window. Our guide immediately be- 
 came prolix again. " Dis," he said, pointing to one of 
 the figures upon the glass, " is Shosef, in ter red coat ; 
 and dis is Shon ter Baptised ; and dis, ter Holy Ghos' 
 in ter form off a duff." 
 
 When the old woman at the door offered pictures 
 of the cathedral, he assured us that they were quite 
 correct, having been taken "from nature, outzide and 
 inzide" 
 
 You must see the old Roman remains of towers 
 and crumbling walls, sniff the vile odors of the streets, 
 which have become proverbial, and be sprinkled with 
 cologne — then your duty to the city is done. But 
 almost everybody visits the Church of St. Ursula, which 
 is lined with the skulls of that unfortunate young wo- 
 man and her eleven thousand virgin followers. 
 
 The story is, that she was an English princess, who 
 lived — nobody knows at what remote period of an- 
 tiquity. For some reason equally obscure, she started 
 with her lover and eleven thousand maidens to make 
 a pilgrimage to Rome. Fancy this lover undertaking 
 a continental tour with eleven thousand and one young 
 women under his care! Even modern travel presents 
 no analogy to the case. "And they staid over night 
 at my aunt's," droned the sleepy guide, who was telling 
 the story. The girls looked at each other. " Good 
 gracious ! what unbounded hospitality ! " whispered 
 one. " At his client's ! " exclaimed a second, somewhat 
 puzzled by the anachronism. " Don't interrupt," said 
 
150 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 a third interested listener ; he means Mayence ; " and 
 he proceeded with the narrative. They accomplished 
 their pilgrimage in safety ; but, upon their return, were 
 "fetched up py ter parparians," as the guide expressed 
 it, which means, in English, that they were murdered, 
 here at Cologne. If you doubt the story, behold the 
 skulls ! We turned suddenly upon the guide. 
 
 " Do you believe this ? " 
 
 " I mus ; sinz I tells it to you," was his enigmatical 
 reply, dropping his eyes. 
 
 The scenery along the Rhine from Cologne, for 
 twenty miles, is uninteresting; just now, too, the 
 weather was uncomfortably hot, and we were glad to 
 leave the steamer for a few hours at Bonn. Upon the 
 balcony of a hotel, looking out upon the river, we found 
 a score of young men in bright-colored caps — students 
 from the university here. When dinner was announced, 
 they crowded in and filled the table, at which the ladies 
 of our party were the only ones present. Such a noisy, 
 loud-talking set as they were ! When each one had 
 dined, he coolly leaned back in his chair, and lighted his 
 pipe ! Before we had finished our almonds and raisins 
 the room was quite beclouded. Then they adjourned 
 with pipe and wine-glass to the balcony again, where 
 we left them when we went out to see the town. 
 
 The university was formerly a palace, the guide-book 
 had told us; but all our childish conceptions of palaces 
 had been rudely destroyed before now, so that we were 
 not surprised to find it without any especial beauty of 
 architecture — only a pile of brown stone, three quar- 
 ters of a mile long. I think we had left all the stu- 
 dents drinking wine upon the balcony, for we saw none 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 151 
 
 here, — though we went through the library, museum, 
 and various halls, — except one party outside, who 
 stared unblushingly at the girls remaining in the car- 
 riage. 
 
 Somewhere in the town we found a lovely old min- 
 ster, through the aisles of which we wandered for a while, 
 happy in having no guide and knowing nothing what- 
 ever about it. Outside, in a little park, was a statue 
 of Beethoven, and in a quiet street near the water the 
 musical girls of our party found the house where he 
 was born. In the cool of the day we took another 
 steamer, and went on towards the beckoning hills, at 
 nightfall reaching Rolandseck. There was no town in 
 sight, only a pier and three quiet hotels upon the bank, 
 with a narrow road between their gardens and the 
 water. We chose the one farthest away, and were 
 rowed down to it, dabbling our hands in the water, and 
 saying over and over again, "It is the Hhine/" 
 
 But the hotel was full ; so we filled our arms with 
 luggage, and walked back, up the dusty road to the 
 second. A complacent waiter stood in the doorway, 
 with nothing of that hungry, eager air about him 
 which betokens an empty house ; cool, comfortable- 
 looking tourists, in enviable, fresh toilets, stared at us 
 from the windows; a pretty German girl upon the 
 balcony overhead was sketching the river and the 
 Seven Mountains just below, uttering little womanly 
 exclamations at times, ending in " ach " and " ich." 
 After some delay, four single rooms were offered us ; 
 our party numbered twelve ; we left a portion of our 
 company here ; the others went on — to the pier where 
 we had landed, in fact, and with all meekness and hu- 
 
152 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 mility sued for accommodations of the little hotel here, 
 which we had at first looked upon with disdain. Fortu- 
 nately, we were not refused. 
 
 When we came down the next morning, the sole oc- 
 cupant of the piazza opening upon the garden — where 
 our breakfast was spread — was a stout, red-faced 
 gentleman of general sleek appearance, who smiled a 
 courteous " good morning." He proved to be a Dutch- 
 man from Rotterdam, who had in charge a couple of 
 Malay youths sent to Holland to be educated — bright- 
 faced boys, with straight, blue-black hair, olive com- 
 plexions, and eyes like velvet. They were below us, 
 walking in the garden now. 
 
 "We have but just come from Holland," we said, 
 after some conversation; and, with a desire to be soci- 
 able, added that it was a very charming, garden-like 
 little (!) country. (O dreadful American spirit ! ) 
 
 He smiled, showing his gums above his short teeth, 
 and with a kind of enraged humility replied, — 
 
 " It is nothing." 
 
 "It is indeed wonderful," we went on, trying to im- 
 prove upon our former attempt, and quoting a senti- 
 ment from the guide-book, "how your people have 
 rescued the land from the clutch of the sea ! " 
 
 But his only reply was the same smile, and the 
 "Yes?" so fatal to sentiment. 
 
 " We visited your queen's ' House in the Wood,' " 
 we ventured, presently. " Is it true that the domestic 
 relations of the royal family are so unhappy?" 
 
 " O, the king and the queen are most happy," he re- 
 plied. " You may always be sure that when he is in 
 town she will be in the country." 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 153 
 
 This was a phase of domestic bliss so new to us that 
 we were fain to consider it for a moment. Various 
 other attempts we made at gaining information, with 
 equally questionable success. Our Dutch acquaint- 
 ance, though disposed to conversation, avoided the 
 topic of his own country. Still he sought our society 
 persistently, asking at dinner that his plate might be laid 
 at the same table. Our vanity was considerably flat- 
 tered, until he chanced to remark that he embraced 
 every opportunity of conversing with English and 
 American travellers, it did so improve his English. 
 From that time we found him tiresome. Think of be- 
 ing used as an exercise-book! 
 
 It is here at Rolandseck that the romance of the 
 Rhine, as well as its world-renowned scenery, com- 
 mences. Across the river is the Drachenfels — the 
 crag upon which the remains of a castle may still be 
 seen, where, " in the most ancient time," dwelt Hilde- 
 gund, a maiden beautiful as those of all stories, and 
 beloved by Roland, a nephew of Charlemagne. When 
 he went away to the wars, she waited and watched at 
 home — as other maidens have done; but alas! in- 
 stead of her lover, came after a time only the news of 
 his death. Then Hildegund laid aside her gay attire 
 and happy heart, with her hopes, and leaving her 
 father's castle, came down to bury her young life in 
 the nunnery upon the island at its foot. But the 
 rumor was false; and in time Roland returned, only 
 to find himself too late, for Hildegund was bound by 
 vows which could not be broken. Then, upon the 
 rock called now Rolandseck, the unhappy lover built 
 a castle opposite the Drachenfels and overlooking the 
 
154 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Island of Nonnenworth. Here he could watch the 
 nuns as they walked in the convent garden, and per- 
 haps among them distinguish the form of Hildegund. 
 . On our way down from the arch, which, with a few 
 crumbling stones is all that remains now of Roland's 
 castle, we passed through one of the vineyards for 
 which the banks of this river are so noted. Do you 
 imagine them to be picturesque ? They are almost ugly. 
 The vines are planted in regular order and pruned 
 closely. They are not suffered to grow above three feet 
 in height, and each one is fastened to a stout stake until 
 the wood itself becomes self-supporting. 
 
 We spent a quiet Sabbath at Rolandseck. There 
 was no church, no church service at either of the 
 hotels. We rested and wrote letters, sitting in the 
 grape arbors of the garden; only a low hedge and 
 narrow, grass-grown road between us and the river. 
 Down below, the rocks and the island shut out the 
 world ; across, the hills rose to the sky, their slopes 
 covered with yellow grain, or dotted with red-roofed 
 farm-houses, while tiny villages had curled up and 
 gone to sleep at their feet. It was impossible to write. 
 The breeze that rippled the yellow water blew away 
 our paper and our thoughts ; and when the steamer, 
 puffing, and evidently breathless from stemming the 
 current, touched at the little pier, we left everything 
 and ran out to see the passengers disembark. A band 
 played at the railroad station just above our hotel, and 
 the park attached to it swarmed with excursionists 
 during the afternoon. At dusk, when they had all 
 gone, we wandered up the magnificent road which 
 follows the course of the river ; built originally by the 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 155 
 
 Romans, and said to extend for a long distance — five 
 hundred miles or more — into Germany, returning 
 with our hands full of wild flowers. When we went 
 on board the steamer, Monday morning, we were close- 
 ly followed by our Dutch friend and his Malays. They 
 strolled off by themselves, as they seemed always to 
 do; he joined our group under the awning spread over 
 the deck. An English tourist seized upon him im- 
 mediately, and when he had disclosed his nationality, 
 proceeded with a glance towards us, to quiz him upon 
 Dutch ways. 
 
 " Now, really," said the tourist, tilting back against 
 the rail in his camp chair, " how dreadful it must be to 
 live in a country where there are no mountains ! noth- 
 ing but a stretch of flat land, you know. I fancy it 
 would be unendurable." 
 
 "Yes?" was the Dutchman's sole response. 
 
 " You still keep up your peculiar customs, I observe 
 from Murray," the Englishman went on, loftily. " Your 
 women carry the same old foot-stoves to church, I fan- 
 cy. They hang up, you know, in every house." 
 
 " Ah ! " and the Dutchman only smiled that same in- 
 comprehensible smile that had so puzzled us. 
 
 "And you smoke constantly," continued the in- 
 quisitor, growing dogmatic ; " a pipe is seldom out of 
 your mouths. Really, you are a nation of perpetual 
 smokers." 
 
 "Yes," assented the Dutchman; "but then — " and 
 here his eyes, and indeed his whole round, rosy face 
 twinkled with irresistible humor, " you know we have 
 no mountains." 
 
 A shout went up from the listeners, and our English 
 
156 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 acquaintance became at once intensely interested in 
 the scenery. 
 
 The sail of half an hour to Coblentz was a continual 
 delight. The rocky mountains rose abruptly from the 
 water, terraced to their peaks with vineyards, or stood 
 back to give place to modest towns and villages that 
 dipped their skirts in the stream. At their wharves 
 we touched for a moment, to make an exchange of 
 passengers or baggage. Often from the lesser villages 
 a boat shot out, the oars held by a brown-armed maid- 
 en, who boarded us to take, perhaps, a single box or 
 bale, or, it might be, some bearded tourist with sketch- 
 book under his arm. The passengers walked the deck, 
 or gathered in groups to eat ices and drink the wines 
 made from the grapes grown in these vineyards, with 
 the pictured maps of the river spread out upon their 
 laps, and the ubiquitous Murray in their hands. 
 
 As we neared Coblentz the villages increased as the 
 hills vanished. Each had its point of interest, or 
 monkish legend — the palace of a duke, a bit of 
 crumbling Roman wall rising from the water — some- 
 thing to invest it with a charm. One — Neuwied — 
 is noted for holding harmoniously within its limits, 
 Jews, Moravians, Anabaptists, and Catholics. The Mil- 
 lennium will doubtless begin at Neuwied. 
 
 At Coblentz we remained a day, in order to visit 
 the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein. From our windows 
 at the hotel we could look directly across to this grim 
 giant of rock, as well as down upon the bridge of boats 
 which crosses the Rhine here. It was endless amuse- 
 ment to watch the approach of the steamers, when, as 
 if impelled by invisible boatmen, a part of the bridge 
 
"At the word of command they struck the most extraordinary attitudes." 
 
 Page 157. 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 157 
 
 would swing slowly round to make an opening, while 
 the crowd of soldiers, market-women, and towns-people, 
 waiting impatiently, furnished a constant and interest- 
 ing study. 
 
 An hour or two after noon we too crossed the 
 bridge in an open carriage, nearly overcome by the 
 stifling heat, and after passing through the village 
 of Ehrenbreitstein, ascended the winding road — 
 a steep ascent, leading under great arches of solid 
 masonry, through massive gateways, and shut in by 
 the rock which forms the fortress. At various points, 
 guards of Prussian soldiers, as immovable as the stone 
 under their feet, were stationed. Suddenly in the gloomy 
 silence, as we toiled slowly up, echoed a sharp tramp, 
 tramp, and a line of soldiers filed by in grim silence, 
 each one with a couple of loaves of bread slung by a 
 cord over his shoulder. In a moment another line fol- 
 lowed with a quantity of iron bedsteads, each borne 
 solemnly upon the shoulders of four men. The guards 
 accompanying them were armed, and wore queer, shin- 
 ing helmets. Still another company came swinging 
 down to meet us, with fixed, imperturbable counte- 
 nances, each bearing a towel in one hand, with military 
 precision. They were on their way to the bathing- 
 house upon the bridge. 
 
 Scattered about upon the broad esplanade at the 
 summit, or rather arranged in lines upon the breezy, 
 grass-grown space, were squads of recruits being drilled. 
 At the word of command, they struck the most extraor- 
 dinary attitudes. Taking a tremendous stride, they 
 endeavored to poise themselves on one foot, while they 
 threw the other leg straight out behind into the air. 
 
158 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Being of all sizes, forms, and degrees of grace in move- 
 ment, the effect, to say the least, was surprising ; es- 
 pecially as the most intense silence and seriousness 
 • prevailed. A second stride and fling followed, then a 
 third, when a pert young officer, of the bantam species, 
 seized a gun, and strutting to the front, proceeded to 
 illustrate the idea more perfectly. At this point our 
 gravity gave way. 
 
 A young sergeant, with a stupid but good-natured 
 face, attached himself to us in the capacity of guide. 
 He could speak nothing but German, of which not one 
 of us understood a word. We followed him from point 
 to point, politely attending to all his elaborate explana- 
 tions, and were surprised to find how many ideas we 
 had finally gained by means of the patient and pain- 
 ful pantomimic accompaniment to his words. 
 
 The view from the summit is wonderfully extensive. 
 All the kingdoms of the earth and the glory of them 
 seemed spread out at our feet ; and our fat little guide 
 grew fairly red in the face in his efforts to make us com- 
 prehend the names of the various points of interest. 
 
 When we returned to the carriage the animated 
 jumping-Jacks were still engaged in their remarkable 
 evolutions ; and as we came down we had a last glimpse 
 of our Dutch friend and his Malays, who were making 
 the ascent on foot. 
 
 The next day, though passed upon the beautiful 
 river, was a day of torment. The stream narrowed ; 
 the frowning rocks closed in upon us, shutting out 
 every breath of air ; the sun beat down upon the 
 water and the low awning over our heads with fiery 
 fury; in a moment of idiocy we answered the call 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 159 
 
 to table cPhote, which was served upon deck with a 
 refinement of imbecility just as the climax of the strik- 
 ing scenery approached. For one mortal hour we 
 were wedged in at that table, peering between heads 
 and under the awning which cut off every peak, making 
 frantic attempts to turn in our places, as parties across 
 the table exclaimed over the scenery behind us, and 
 consoling ourselves with reading up the legends in the 
 guide-book held open by the rim of our soup-plates, — 
 of the Seven Sisters, for instance, who were turned into 
 seven stones which stand in the stream to this day, be- 
 cause they refused to smile upon their lovers (fortu- 
 nately for navigation, maidens in these days are less 
 obdurate) ; of the bishop who shut his starving peasants 
 into his barn and set fire to it, though his granaries 
 were full, and who, in poetic justice, was afterwards 
 devoured by rats; of the Lurlei siren, who lured men 
 to destruction, and became historical from the indi- 
 viduality of the case ; of various maidens bereft of 
 lovers by cruel fathers, and of various lovers bereft of 
 maidens by cruel fate, <fcc, while storied ruins crowned 
 the crags on every hand, always half hidden under a 
 weight of ivy, and often indistinguishable from the 
 rock on which they seemed to have grown. 
 
 At Bingen, which is not especially "fair" from the 
 river, the precipices drop away, the stream spreads out 
 in nearly twice its former width, and is dotted with 
 islands. At Mayence you may leave the steamer ; the 
 beauties of the Rhine are passed. 
 
 From Mayence we made an excursion to Wiesbaden ; 
 then on to Frankfort-on-the-Maine, to rest only a few 
 hours, doing the city hastily and imperfectly ; and finally 
 
160 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 reached Heidelberg at night, in time for table d'hote. A 
 talkative young Irishman sat beside ns at the table, who 
 spoke five or six languages " with different degrees of 
 badness," he informed us ; had travelled half the world 
 over, but held in reserve the pleasure of visiting America. 
 
 "I have a friend there," he added, "though he is in 
 South America." 
 
 "Ah?" 
 
 "Yes; at Mobile" he replied. "He held some office 
 under government for a number of years, but during 
 your recent war — for some reason which I do not 
 understand — he seems to have lost it." 
 
 It did not seem so inexplicable to us. 
 
 Our conception of Heidelberg had been most im- 
 perfect. We knew simply that it held a university 
 and a ruin. The former did not especially attract us, 
 and we were sated with ruins. So, when we took pos- 
 session of our lovely room, — a charming salon, con- 
 verted temporarily into a bedroom, — it was with a 
 kind of listless indifference that we stepped out upon 
 the balcony before the window. And, behold ! down 
 below, an old, paved square, walled in by delightfully 
 dingy old houses ; a stone fountain ; a string of waiting 
 landaus (for Landau itself is near by), with scarlet 
 linings to their tops — giving a bit of color to the pic- 
 ture ; a party of German students crossing the square, 
 wearing the caps of different colors to betoken different 
 societies or clubs, and almost every one with a scarred 
 cheek or suggestive patch upon his nose; and, lastly, 
 on the right hand, and so precipitous as almost to over- 
 hang the square, a hill crowned with the castle, grand, 
 though in ruins, which nature vainly tries to conceal. 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 161 
 
 There are ruins, and ruins. Except the Alhambra, in 
 Spain, none in the world equal these. 
 
 What this castle must have been in the days of its 
 glory, when it was the residence of a court, we could 
 only faintly imagine. It is of red sandstone, and was a 
 succession of palaces, built to enclose a square, or great 
 court-yard, each of entirely different architecture and 
 design, the fagade of one being covered with statues, 
 another having pointed gables, &c; all having been 
 erected at periods fifty or a hundred years remote from 
 each other. At each corner were watch-towers to 
 apprise of coming foes. You may still ascend the 
 winding stairs of one, though the steps have been hol- 
 lowed into bowls by dripping rain and mounting feet. 
 Between these towers, upon one side, and on the verge 
 of the hill, still remains the grand stone terrace, — where 
 a hundred couples might j^romenade in solitude on 
 moonlight evenings, — with summer-houses at each end ; 
 and beautiful gardens are still connected with the ruins. 
 For all these palaces are in ruins. A few habitable 
 rooms only remain among them all. Several sieges, and 
 partial demolition at times, the castle suffered, and at 
 last, a hundred years ago, lightning completed the 
 work, since which time no efforts at restoration have 
 been made. 
 
 The whole is overgrown with ivy, and embowered 
 in shrubbery. Great trees spread their branches in 
 the midst of the walls that still remain standing, and 
 crumbling earth and drifting dust have filled many 
 parts, even up to the broken window ledges of the sec- 
 ond story. Across the broad stone steps leading to 
 one of these palaces, tangled vines disputed right of 
 11 
 
162 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 way, and a neglected cherry-tree had scattered with 
 wanton hand its over-ripe fruitage. Thrust through a 
 casement was an ivy that might have vied with many 
 of the trees around in the size of its trunk, and no artis- 
 tic hand could have trailed its creepers with the grace 
 Nature alone had displayed. 
 
 There was a grand banqueting-hall, with the blue 
 heavens for a ceiling overhead. There was a drawing- 
 room, the floor long since crumbled away, and only 
 the broken walls remaining. Standing upon the loose 
 earth, you may see the blackened fireplace far above 
 your head, before which fair faces grew rosy centuries 
 ago, and where white hands were outspread that have 
 been dust and mould for ages. There was — But 
 words cannot describe it, though I should speak of 
 the winding ways like a labyrinth beneath it all ; of 
 the queer paved court-yard, from whence the knights 
 sallied out in the olden time ; of the great tower, split 
 in twain by an explosion during the last siege ; of the 
 wine-cellars and the "Great Tun," upon which the 
 servants of the castle danced when the vintage was 
 gathered. In all attempts at word-painting there re- 
 mains something that defies description, that will not 
 be portrayed by language. And, alas ! in that the 
 charm lies. 
 
 We turned away from it with regret. One might 
 linger here for days ; but we had little time for 
 dreaming. 
 
 The road from Heidelberg to Baden-Baden led 
 through a charming country : indeed, we ceased to ex- 
 claim after a time over the cultivation of the land. So 
 far as we saw it, the whole of Europe was a market- 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 163 
 
 garden, with prize meadows interspersed. Not a foot 
 of neglected or carelessly-tilled ground did we see 
 anywhere. 
 
 We chanced to spend the Sabbath in this most un- 
 Sabbath-like city of Baden-Baden. But so far as we 
 knew to the contrary, it might have been a Puritan 
 village. There was a little English chapel out in the 
 fields beyond the city, where morning service was held, 
 and our windows, overlooking a quiet square, told noth- 
 ing of the gayeties of the town. It is an interesting 
 old city in itself, built upon a side hill, full of unexpected 
 stone steps leading from one street to another, and by 
 and crooked ways, that were my especial delight. It 
 being just now "the season," the town was full of 
 visitors. The hot springs are of course the nominal 
 attraction ; the shops, parks, and new parts of the city, 
 fine ; but, after all, the interest centres at the Kursaal, 
 or Conversation-haus. It is a great white structure, 
 with a colonnade where it fronts an open square, and 
 contains reading-rooms, cafes, a grand ball-room, and 
 the gambling salons. Government has at length inter- 
 fered, and these last, hired by companies paying a cer- 
 tain sum for the privilege of beguiling and beggaring 
 visitors, were to be closed now in two years, I think, or 
 less. In front of the Kursaal a band plays every after- 
 noon ; the colonnade and square are thronged with 
 people promenading or occupying the chairs placed 
 there, eating ices, drinking wine, and enjoying the fine 
 music, but all perfectly quiet in manner and plain of 
 dress. No one was gaudily or even strikingly attired. 
 The Hanoverian women were the most marked for their 
 queer head-dresses, consisting of an enormous bow and 
 
164 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 ends of wide, black ribbon perched upon their crowns, 
 and giving their heads a peculiar, bat-like appearance. 
 And in this connection I might say that national pecu- 
 liarities in dress are seldom met with in the ordinary 
 course of continental travel. They still exist to some 
 extent among the lower classes, and are often assumed 
 and perpetuated to attract the attention of travellers; 
 but ordinarily you will find people whom you meet 
 anywhere and everywhere to be costumed much alike. 
 Paris fashions, with modifications (and in America with 
 intensifications), have prevailed universally, until there 
 are few outward dissimilarities to be observed among 
 the people of different nationalities. .Nothing strikes 
 the attention of the traveller more than this universal 
 homogeneousness; and not in dress alone. In Bruges, 
 under the shadow of the belfry tower, little girls trot 
 off to school in water-proofs, just as they do at home 
 with us; and at the entrance to Stirling Castle, we 
 passed a sturdy little boy with his hands in his pockets, 
 whistling, " Not for Jo," exactly like other sturdy little 
 boys we know at home. 
 
 But to return to Baden-Baden. 
 
 We almost fancied a sulphurous odor hung about 
 the gambling salons. Not a footfall echoed upon the 
 softly-carpeted floors as we entered. The most breath- 
 less silence hung over everything. In the centre, a 
 crowd, three in depth at least, surrounded and hid the 
 table covered with green cloth, before which sat the 
 croupier, with a kind of little rake in his hand. In our 
 eyes he was the incarnation of evil, though to unpreju- 
 diced vision he would appear simply a well-dressed — 
 not flashily-arrayed — gentleman, of a rather intellec- 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 165 
 
 tual countenance, who might have passed upon the 
 street as a lawyer in good practice, or possibly a 
 doctor somewhat overworked. 
 
 One after another of the bystanders covered the 
 figures stamped upon the table with gold or silver. 
 The ball in the centre, spinning in its circle, fell into a 
 pocket with a " click." The croupier called the win- 
 ning number I think (though confessing that the game 
 is a hidden mystery). That quick, sharp utterance was 
 the only sound breaking the silence. At the same time, 
 with wonderful dexterity, he raked the money into a 
 pile, and pushed it towards the winner, or, more 
 frequently, added it to the pile before himself. 
 
 I looked in vain for any exhibition of excitement or 
 anxiety among the players sitting or standing around 
 the table. All were serious, silent; some few absorbed. 
 Both sexes were equally represented, and old as well 
 as young. Beside us w T as standing a woman with a 
 worn, though still fine face, unobtrusive in dress and 
 manner; a traveller and spectator, I judged, like our- 
 selves. It was something of a surprise, not to say a 
 shock, to see her suddenly stretch out her hand, and 
 lay down a handful of gold pieces, selecting the num- 
 bers with an air that proved her to be no novice. 
 " Click," fell the ball. The croupier, with a sweep of 
 the rake, gathered up her Napoleons. The bank had 
 won. Again she laid down her gold, placing each 
 piece with thoughtful deliberation. Again they were 
 swept away; and even the third time. She made no 
 exclamation. She did not so much as raise her eyes 
 from the table as she prepared to make a fourth at- 
 tempt. There w r as no change in her face, except a 
 
166 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 certain fixedness which came over it, and a faint tinge 
 of color rising in her cheeks. 
 
 We breathed more freely when we had gained the 
 open air. I am sure there was an odor of sulphur 
 about the place. 
 
 The scenery around Baden-Baden is striking and 
 wild. Gloomy valleys abound, and dark forests cover 
 many of the hills. We took a kind of wagonet one' 
 morning, and climbed the mountain behind the city, 
 passing what is known as the " New Schloss," or castle, 
 before leaving its limits. It is anything but neio, how- 
 ever, having been erected some four or five hundred 
 years. Its horrible dungeons, where all manner of 
 torments were inflicted, and tortures suffered by the 
 unfortunate wretches incarcerated here, attract scores 
 of visitors. We went on, by the zigzag road up the 
 mountain, to the Old Schloss upon its summit. This 
 was the residence of the reigning family of Baden be- 
 fore the erection of the "New Schloss. Hardly any- 
 thing remains of it now but the walls of a square tower, 
 from the battlements of which, by mounting to an 
 encircling gallery, you may obtain a view well worth 
 the effort. As far as the eye can see in one direction, 
 extends the Black Forest — the very name of which 
 brings to mind elfish legends innumerable. But, 
 though our way led along its edge, so that we were 
 shut in by the chill and gloom of the evergreens which 
 give it its name, we saw neither elves nor gnomes, nor 
 the traditional " wood-cutter, named Hans, who lived 
 upon the borders of the Black Forest," about whom we 
 used to read when we were children. 
 
 From Baden-Baden we took the railroad, following 
 
THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 167 
 
 the course of the Rhine to Strasbourg, spending only a 
 night here, in order to visit the beautiful cathedral; 
 then on to Lucerne, waiting an hour or two to break 
 the long day's ride, at Basle. Here the mountains 
 began to grow before our eyes. We shot through 
 tunnel after tunnel, cut in the solid rock, and suddenly 
 sweeping around a curve, the everlasting hills wrapped 
 in perpetual snows, greeted our astonished sight. We 
 had reached the Mecca of our hopes at last. 
 
168 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 
 
 The Lake of Lucerne. — Days of rest in the city. — An excur- 
 sion up the Righi. — The crowd at the summit. — Dinner at 
 midnight. — Rising before "the early worm." — The "sun- 
 rise " according to Murray. — Animated scarecrows. — Off 
 for a tour through Switzerland. — The lake for the last time. 
 — Griitlii. — William Tell's chapel. — Fluellen. — Altorf. — 
 Swiss haymakers. — An hour at Amsteg. — The rocks close 
 in. — The Devil's Bridge. — The dangerous road. — "A car- 
 riage has gone over the precipice ! " — Andermatt. — Desolate 
 rocks. — Exquisite wild flowers. — The summit of the Eur- 
 ka. — A descent to the Rhone glacier. — Into the ice. — 
 Swiss villages. — Brieg. — The convent inn. — The bare lit- 
 tle chapel on the bill. — To Martigny. 
 
 WHEN we forget the scene before our dazzled 
 eyes as we stepped out upon the balcony of 
 the hotel Bellevue at Lucerne, earth will have passed 
 away. There lay the fair lake, the emerald hills rising 
 from its blue depths on every side, save where the 
 queer old town sweeps around its curve, or beyond Pi- 
 latus, where the chain is broken, and a strip of level 
 land lies along the water's edge, sprinkled with red- 
 roofed farm-houses set in the midst of grain-fields, and 
 with rows of tall, straight poplars extending to the 
 water. This sight of peaceful homes among the heav- 
 
DAI'S IN SWITZERLAND. 169 
 
 enly hills is like a vision of earth in mid-heaven. Be- 
 yond, above, overlapping each other, rise these delec- 
 table hills. No earthly air envelops them. No earthly 
 feet tread their fair summits. Upon the highest, among 
 the eternal snows, rest the clouds. Truly, the heavens 
 declare the glory of God ; but Switzerland showeth 
 bis handiwork ! 
 
 Beautiful was the lake in the hazy morning, light, 
 when the hills cast purple and green shadows over its 
 bosom, when the breeze rippled its surface, and the 
 path in the w r ake of the little steamer widened into an 
 endless way ; beautiful in the glare of the noonday 
 sun, when a veil of mist half hid the far-off mountains, 
 and the water gleamed like molten gold ; but most 
 beautiful of all when the mountains wrapped them- 
 selves in the shadows of night, and stole away into the 
 darkness, while upon their white, still faces shone the 
 rays of the setting sun. Then grim Pilatus stepped 
 forth ; the moon, like a burnished globe, hung over the 
 water, across which the little steamer ploughed silver 
 furrows, or tiny boats, impelled by flashing oars, shot 
 over the still surface, now near, now far away ; but dim, 
 unreal, always. 
 
 It was a place of rest to us — this city of Lucerne ; 
 the " House Beautiful," where we tarried for a time be- 
 fore setting out again upon our pilgrimage. We wan- 
 dered about the narrow streets, visited the dingy shops 
 full of wood carvings or ornaments cut in the many- 
 hued crystals ; strayed over the low hills behind the 
 town, through fields set with painted shrines ; paused 
 before Thonvaldsen's Dying Lion, cut in the living rock 
 — the grandest monument that heroes ever won ; and 
 
170 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 once, in the stillness of a summer morning, sat in the 
 cathedral and heard the angels sing, when the old organ- 
 ist laid his hands upon the keys. Sabbath mornings 
 we sang the old versified psalms, and listened to the 
 exposition of a rigid faith from the lips of a Scotch 
 Presbyterian minister, in an old Roman Catholic church 
 
 — the walls hung with pictured saints and martyrs, 
 the high altar only partially concealed, and a company 
 of women kneeling by the door to tell their beads. 
 Not only rest, but Christian charity, had we found 
 here. 
 
 Almost every one who spends any time at Lucerne 
 ascends the Righi to see the sun rise. Accordingly, 
 five of our number prepared to follow the universal 
 custom. In one of the little shops of the town we 
 found some light, straw hats, with wide rims, for which 
 we gave the extravagant price of three cents apiece, 
 trimming them afterwards to suit individual taste, with 
 ribbons, soft white lawn, and even mountain ferns and 
 grasses. We slung our wraps over our shoulders by a 
 strap, — a most uncomfortable arrangement by the way, 
 
 — discarded crinoline, brought into use the shabbiest 
 gowns in our possession, packed hand-satchels with 
 whatever was necessary for a night upon the moun- 
 tain, and then declared ourselves ready for any disclo- 
 sures of the future or the Righi. 
 
 A little steamer bore us from Lucerne to Weggis — 
 a half hour's sail. We found Weggis to be only an 
 insignificant village, almost pushed into the lake by the 
 crowding mountain, and seeming to contain nothing 
 but guides and shabby horses. As we left the steam- 
 er, the open space between the pier and the hotel 
 
DATS IN SWITZERLAND. \~\ 
 
 facing it was crowded with tourists, waiting for or bar- 
 gaining with the guides for these sorry-looking beasts. 
 No matter of what age, sex, or condition in life you 
 may be, if you visit Switzerland, you will make, at 
 least one, equestrian attempt; but in truth, there is 
 nothing to fear for even the most inexperienced, as a 
 guide usually leads each horse. The saddles for the 
 use of ladies are provided with a rail upon one side, 
 and the nature of the paths are such, that it would be 
 impossible to go beyond a walk. The only danger is 
 from over-fatigue in descending the rocky, slippery way, 
 often like flights of stairs ; then, exhausted from try- 
 ing to hold back in the saddle, dizzy from gazing into 
 frightful depths, one might easily become unseated. 
 
 When our guides were secured, one dejected beast 
 after another was led to the wooden steps, always pro- 
 vided for mounting and dismounting; we climbed to 
 our several elevations with some inward quaking, 
 fell into line, — for single file is the invariable rule, — 
 and passed out of the village by immediately begin- 
 ning the ascent, describing, in our saddles every known 
 curve and angle, as the path became more and more 
 rough and precipitous. For guides we had a man 
 with a rakish air, and — we judged from his gait — a 
 wooden leg, who tragically wrung the perspiration 
 from his red flannel shirt at intervals ; a boy, with one 
 of those open countenances only saved from complete 
 lateral division by the merciful interposition of the 
 ears, and a wizen-faced old man of so feeble an ap- 
 pearance as to excite my constant sympathy, since his 
 place chanced to be by my side. He assured me con- 
 tinually that he was not tired, though before half of 
 
172 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 the three hours of the ascent had passed, his pale face 
 belied his words. He was quite ready to converse, 
 but I could with difficulty understand his English. 
 We had paused at a wayside shed to rest the horses, 
 and offer some refreshment to the guides, when I ad- 
 dressed him with, — 
 
 "What is that you are drinking? Is it goat's 
 milk ? " 
 
 " Noo, leddy," was his reply. " It is coo's ; " at the 
 same time, and with the utmost simplicity and good 
 will, offering me the glass from which he had been 
 drinking, that I might taste and judge for myself. 
 
 It is nearly nine miles to the summit, or Righi- 
 Kulm. The bridle-path is rocky, rough, and steep, 
 with a grassy slope upon either side, sprinkled at this 
 season with dandelions, blue-bells, and odd yellow but- 
 ter-cups. Often this slope changed to a precipice, still 
 smiling with flowers. Upon every level spot orchards 
 of pear trees and apricots had been planted, while 
 evergreens and shrubs innumerable clung to the moun- 
 tain sides, or sprang from among the rocks. 
 
 Tossed about wherever they could find a resting- 
 place, were great boulders of pudding-stone, overhang- 
 ing the path, rising in our way, or rolling in broken 
 masses under the horses' feet. Sometimes, perched 
 upon a natural terrace, was a chalet, sheltered from 
 sweep of wind or avalanche by overhanging rocks half 
 covered with ivy and dainty clematis. Occasionally a 
 beggar barred the way with outstretched hand, or 
 offered for sale some worthless trinket, as an excuse 
 for asking alms. We hugged the rocks upon one side, 
 as other lines of tourists wound down to meet us, 
 
DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 173 
 
 upon horseback or afoot with alpenstocks to aid their 
 steps. Peasants, laden like beasts of burden, passed 
 as we paused to rest, with trunks, provisions, and 
 even the red tiles for the new hotel above, strapped 
 upon their backs, or resting there on wooden frames. 
 They came and went ; but ever present were the won- 
 derful glimpses of earth, and sky, and shimmering 
 lake far down below. 
 
 At the half-way house we turn to climb a gentle 
 slope upon the mountain face. On either side the land 
 spreads out smooth and green. It had been hot below. 
 The air strikes us here with an icy chill. A party of 
 young Englishmen in knickerbockers, with blue veils 
 tied about their hais, lean over the railing of the piazza, 
 and scan us as we pass. A Spaniard, with his dark- 
 faced wife, steps out of the path — all manner of oily 
 words dropping from their lips. We reach the Righi- 
 Staffel. Suddenly, upon one side, the land falls away. 
 Among the reverberating hills echoes the jodel, and 
 from a terrace far below, where a herd of dun cows 
 are feeding, rises the tinkle of sweet-toned bells. From 
 every path — and there are many now — winds a slow 
 procession. The grassy slopes are all alive with peo- 
 ple ; the hotel piazza, as we pass, is crowded with trav- 
 ellers. Still they pour in from every side. Still the 
 mountain-peak rises above us as we go on joining 
 other trains, and leading others in turn. We pass 
 through a rough gateway, ascend the broken rocks that 
 rise like steps, follow again the narrow path, and reach 
 at last the hotel, just before which rises the Kulm. 
 
 Talk of the solitude of nature ! It is not found 
 among these mountain peaks, grand though they are. 
 
174 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 We dismounted in the midst of a noisy crowd. Ex- 
 clamations in seemingly every known tongue echoed 
 about us, as one party after another arrived to swell 
 the confusion. The hill before us swarmed with tour- 
 ists, who had come, like ourselves, to see the sun rise. 
 The hotel, and even the adjoining house into which 
 the former overflows, were more than full. Since we 
 had taken the precaution to telegraph, — for telegraphic 
 communication is held with most of these mountain 
 resorts, — some show of civility awaited us. A single 
 room was given to the four ladies of our party, where, 
 a few hours later, we disposed ourselves as best we 
 could. It was only a rough place, with bare plastered 
 walls, and unpainted wooden floor; but we were not 
 disposed to be fastidious. Dropping our satchels, we 
 hastened up the hill before the house. It fell in a preci- 
 pice upon the other side — to what frightful depth I 
 know not. Down below, the hills spread out like level 
 land, with lakes where every valley should be, and 
 villages, like white dots only, upon the universal green, 
 among which the River Reuss wound like a silver 
 thread. But above and over all, against the sky, rose 
 the mountains — the Bernese Alps, like alabaster 
 walls, the gates of which, flung back, would open 
 heavenward, v. 
 
 We wandered over the hillocks, which make up the 
 summit, until the sun was gone. Gradually the dark- 
 ness gathered — a thickening of the shadows until they 
 seemed almost tangible. There was no flame of gold 
 and crimson where the sun had disappeared ; there 
 were no clouds to reflect the warm yellow light that 
 hung about the west. But when the night wrapped 
 
DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 175 
 
 us in, the little lakes down below gleamed out like 
 stars. 
 
 The crowd that pushed and fairly wedged itself into 
 the salle a mcmger, when dinner was announced at 
 eight o'clock, was quite beyond belief or computation. 
 Everybody was tired, hungry, and impatient, after the 
 ride to the summit. For once, silver was at a dis- 
 count. One of the waiters was finally bribed to give 
 us a private room, and slyly edged our party into a 
 pantry, where he brought us, at immense intervals, a 
 spoonful of soup and a hot plate apiece, after which, 
 his resources utterly failing, he acknowledged that he 
 could do no more. The second table cVhote was served 
 between the hours of ten and eleven at night, and con- 
 sisted of numerous courses, with a similarity of flavor, 
 suggesting one universal saucepan. 
 
 It was midnight when we finally gained our rooms, 
 and threw ourselves upon the uncomfortable beds. The 
 linen was wet, rather than damp. The only covering 
 consisted of a single blanket, and the duvet or down 
 pillow, always found upon the foot of continental beds. 
 
 We imagined that the sun would appear with the 
 very earliest known worm, and at least an hour before 
 the most ambitious lark, and dared not close our eyes, 
 lest they should not open in time to greet him. At 
 last, however, sleep overpowered our fears. Katie's 
 voice roused us. 
 
 " It is three o'clock," she said, " and growing light, 
 and I believe people are hurrying up the hill." 
 
 Profane persons should avoid the Righi ; it is a place 
 of terrible temptation. " Good heavens ! " we responded, 
 " what kind of a sun can it be to rise at such an 
 hour?" 
 
176 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Our room was upon the ground floor. We pushed 
 open the shutters and peered out, facing an untimely 
 Gabriel, just raising to his lips an Alpine horn some 
 •three feet in length. Evidently the hour had arrived. 
 We thrust our feet into our boots, tied our hats under 
 our chins, and ran out to join a most ridiculous collection 
 of animated scarecrows like ourselves. Frowsy, sleepy, 
 cross, and caring nothing whatever for the sun, moon, 
 or stars, we stood like a company of Bedlamites, ankle 
 deep in the wet grass upon the summit. No sun 
 of irreproachable moral character and well-regulated 
 habits would appear at such an hour, we knew. The 
 light strengthened with our impatience. Every half- 
 closed eye was fixed upon that corner of the heaveLS 
 from which the sun would sally forth. The golden 
 gates had opened. A red banner floated out. Tiny 
 clouds on either side awaited his coming, dressed in 
 crimson and yellow livery. Every one of us stood 
 upon tiptoe — the heels of our unbuttoned boots there- 
 upon dropping down. One collarless tourist, in whose 
 outward adorning suspenders played a conspicuous 
 part, gravely opened his guide-book, found the place 
 with some difficulty, and buried his head in the pages, 
 to assure himself that everything was proceeding ac- 
 cording to Murray. Suddenly the white faces of the 
 distant mountains grew purple with a rage which we 
 all shared ; the flaming banner streamed out across the 
 east, and the king of day, with most majestic step, but 
 frightfully swollen, tell-tale countenance, rose in the 
 heavens. I am sure he had been out all night. 
 
 The light grew clearer now. The mountains rose 
 reluctantly, and shook off their wrappings of mist. 
 
" Frowsy, sleepy, cross, and caring nothing whatever for the sun, moon, or 
 stars, we stood like a company of Bedlamites, ankle deep in the wet grass 
 upon the summit." Page 176. 
 
DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 177 
 
 The little clouds doffed their crimson finery. The 
 man held together by the marvellous complication of 
 shoulder-straps, closed his guide-book with an air of 
 entire satisfaction. Evidently the programme, as laid 
 down by Murray, had been accurately carried out. 
 Everybody exclaimed, " Wonderful ! " in his or her 
 native tongue. All the knickerbockers, and woollen 
 shirts, and lank water-proofs, without any back hair to 
 speak of, trotted off down the hill to be metamorphosed 
 into human beings, and prepare for breakfast, even to 
 the individual who had been stalking about in a white 
 bed blanket, with a striped border — though printed 
 notices in every room expressly forbade the using of 
 bed blankets as morning wraps. 
 
 When breakfast was over, there was nothing to do but 
 to make the descent to Weggis, and return to Lucerne. 
 
 After a time, when weariness could no longer be 
 made an excuse for lingering, we prepared for a tour 
 through Switzerland. Engaging carriages to meet us 
 at Fluellen, we embarked for the last time upon the 
 beautiful lake, winding in and out its intricate ways, 
 shut in by the towering cliffs that closed before us, 
 only to re-open, revealing new charms as we rounded 
 some promontory, and the lake widened again. Upon 
 the bays thus formed, villages lean against the moun- 
 tain-side. Where the rocks fall abruptly to the water, 
 an occasional chalet is perched upon some natural ter- 
 race, in the midst of an orchard or scanty garden. As 
 we touched at these lake villages, brown-faced girls, in 
 scant blue petticoats and black bodices, and with faded 
 hair braided in their necks, offered us fruits — apricots 
 and cherries — in pretty, rustic baskets. 
 12 
 
178 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 One of these green spots, high among the rocks, 
 forms a sloping meadow, touching the water at last. 
 It is an oasis in the surrounding desert of barren rock. 
 Do you know why the grass is greener here than else- 
 where ? why the sun bestows its kisses more warmly ? 
 why the foliage upon the scattered walnut and chest- 
 nut trees is thicker, darker, than upon those on other 
 mountain-sides? It is because this isfGriitlii — the 
 birthplace of Swiss liberty) Here, more than five hun- 
 dred years ago, the three confederates met at night to 
 plan the throwing off of the Austrian yoke. 
 
 Not far from Griitlii, resting apparently upon the 
 water, at the base of one of these cliffs, is what appears 
 at first sight to be a pretty green and white summer- 
 house, open towards the lake. It is Tell's Chapel, 
 built upon a shelf of rock, and only approachable from 
 the water. Here — so the story runs — William Tell 
 sprang ashore, and escaped the tyrant Gessler. We 
 sweep around this promontory and gain the last bay 
 where lies Fluellen — a ragged village, swarming with 
 tourists, vetturinos, and diligences. Among the car- 
 riages we find our own. It is a roomy landau, lux- 
 uriously lined with scarlet velvet, drawn by three 
 horses which wear tinkling bells, and is capable of carry- 
 ing six- passengers. The top is thrown back, but a kind 
 of calash-shade screens from the sun the occupants of 
 what we should call the driver's seat. Our driver's 
 place is a narrow board behind the horses. One crack 
 of a long whip, and we are off at a rattling pace over 
 the hard road, smooth as a floor. 
 
 For the first day we are to follow the pass of St. 
 Gothard — that well-travelled highway which leads 
 
DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 179 
 
 through mountain defiles into Italy. We dashed by 
 Altorf, where the family of Queen Victoria's husband 
 originated, passing the open square in which William 
 Tell shot the apple from the head of his son. An old 
 man is watering a horse at the basin of the stone foun- 
 tain which marks the spot where the father stood. All 
 this valley is sacred to the memory of William Tell. 
 In a village near by he was born; in the mountain 
 stream, just beyond, he is said to have lost his life in 
 the attempt to save a drowning child. After Altorf, 
 the road winds among the meadows, though the moun- 
 tains rise on every side, with chalets perched upon 
 points which seem inaccessible, so steep are their sides. 
 It is haying time, and men and women are at work in 
 the fields and upon the mountain-sides, carefully secur- 
 ing every blade of grass. Once, when we had begun 
 to wind up the mountains, where a grass-grown preci- 
 pice fell almost sheer to the valley below, a girl clung 
 to its side, and pulled with one hand the grass from 
 between the rocks, thrusting it into a bag that hung 
 about her neck. She paused to gaze after us as we 
 dashed by, a kind of dull awe that never rose to envy 
 lighting her face for an instant. O, the hungry, pitiful 
 faces of these dwellers upon the heights ! the pinched, 
 starved faces of the little ones especially, who forgot to 
 smile — how they haunted us ! At noon Ave sweep up 
 to the post-house at Amsteg, with a jingle of bells, a 
 crack of the whip, and an annunciatory shout from the 
 driver. There is no village that we can see. The pi- 
 azza of the post-house is filled with travellers, lunching 
 before a long table ; half a dozen waiting carriages stand 
 in the open space before it ; as many hostlers, with knit 
 
180 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 caps upon their heads, from which hang long, bright- 
 colored tassels, are busy among the horses. At a short 
 distance the Reuss River rushes past the house ; upon 
 its bank is a little shop, with its store of Swiss curi- 
 osities and trinkets. A couple of girls fill a tray with 
 the dainty wares, and cross the space to tempt us. 
 One has a scarlet handkerchief knotted under her hand- 
 some, dark face. She turns her brown cheek to her 
 shoulder, tossing a word back as the young hostlers 
 contrive to stand in her way. 
 
 One by one the carriages take up their loads and 
 go on. We soon follow and overtake them, winding 
 slowly up among the rocks, which seem ready to fall 
 upon us. We form a long train, a strange procession, 
 bound by no tie but that of common humanity. The 
 meadows and soft, green mountain-slopes are left be- 
 hind as we ascend, crossing from one side to the other 
 by arched bridges thrown over the chasm, at the foot 
 of which foams the torrent. Higher and higher rise 
 the rent rocks — bare, black walls, seamed, and scarred, 
 and riven, their summits reaching to the sky. They 
 close about us, shutting out everything of earth and 
 heaven, save a narrow strip of blue far above all. Even 
 the sweet light of day departs, and a gloom and darkness 
 as of a brooding tempest falls upon us as the way nar- 
 rows. Suddenly a mad, foaming torrent, with angry 
 roar, leaps from the rocks above, to toss, and writhe, 
 and moan upon the rocks below the arch upon which 
 we stand. The water rushes over them, and dashes 
 against them. It swirls, and pants, and foams, while 
 high above it all we stand, our faces wet with the spray, 
 our ears deafened by the terrible roar. Truly, this is 
 "The Devil's Bridge." 
 
DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 181 
 
 Think of armies meeting here, as they did in the old 
 Napoleonic wars, contending for the passage of the 
 bridge below. Think of the shrieks of the wounded 
 and dying, mingling with the raging of the waters. 
 Think of the white foam surging red among the rocks ; 
 of the angry torrent beating out the ebbing life of those 
 who checked its flow. Think of the meeting of hosts 
 in mortal conflict where no eye but God's could witness 
 it, upon which not even bird or startled beast looked 
 down. It was like a dreadful dream from which we 
 passed — as through deep sleep — by a way cut in 
 the solid rock out into God's world again. Still, from 
 one side of the road rose the rocks that began to 
 show signs of scanty vegetation now ; from the other 
 fell the precipice to the torrent. We had left the car- 
 riages at the bridge, and singly or in companies toiled 
 up the road that doubled back upon itself continually. 
 Often we climbed from one of these windings to the 
 next above, by paths among the rocks, leaving the car- 
 riages to make the turn and follow more slowly. Often 
 our way was the bed of a last year's torrent, or our 
 feet touched the borders of the stream, as we pulled 
 ourselves up by the shrubs that grew among the rocks. 
 The ice-chill in the air brought strength for the time, 
 and perfect exhilaration. It seemed as if we could go 
 on forever, scaling these mountain heights. 
 
 At last the carriages overtake us, and we reluctantly 
 resume our places. The road is built out upon the 
 mountain-side. It offers no protection against the fall 
 of the precipice. It narrows here. We look down, 
 and say, " How dreadful a careless driver might make 
 this place ! " and, shuddering, draw back. Suddenly 
 
182 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 the train pauses, and down the long hill runs a shout, 
 " A carriage has gone over." We spring out, and run 
 to the front. " Is any one killed ? " " No ; thank 
 God, no one is harmed." We gather upon the edge 
 of the precipice. Upon the rocks below lies the 
 body of a horse — dead, with his fore feet raised, as 
 though pawing the air ; and mingling with the white 
 waters, and tossed about in the raging stream, are the 
 shattered remains of a carriage and its contents. 
 
 It seems that two young men from Canton Zurich 
 essayed to make a tour of the mountains with their 
 own horse and carriage — a foolhardy experiment, since 
 none but tried horses, used to these passes, are con- 
 sidered safe here. All went well, however, until they 
 reached this point, where a torrent falls down the 
 mountain-side to the road, under which it passes with 
 a fearful noise. It might, indeed, startle the strongest 
 nerves. The horse, young and high-spirited, shied to 
 the edge of the precipice, then reared high in the air. 
 They saw that he must go over when his fore feet came 
 down, and springing out, barely escaped a similar fate. 
 We all passed the spot with some trepidation, the most 
 of us preferring to walk ; but our horses, accustomed 
 to the road, were utterly unmoved by the swooping 
 torrent. At night we reached Andermatt — only an 
 untidy little village, lying in one of these upper valleys, 
 bustling and all alive around the door of its one inn ; 
 but how green and beautiful were the mountains, shut- 
 ting us in all around, after the desolation through which 
 much of our way had led ! Upon the side of the near- 
 est was a triangular patch of wood-land, — firs and 
 spruces, — said to divide and break the force of the 
 
DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 183 
 
 avalanches that sweep down here in the spring. It 
 can be nothing but a story of what had been true for- 
 merly, when the wood was more extensive. Down 
 these mountains, as night closed in, straggled a herd 
 of goats to the milking, tinkling countless little bells, 
 while the roar of the Reuss, which we had followed 
 until it was now hardly more than a mountain brook, 
 mingled with our dreams as it ran noisily through the 
 village. 
 
 On we went the next morning, wrapping ourselves 
 warmly, for the air was chill as November, though at 
 Lucerne, only twenty-four hours before, we had suffered 
 a torrid heat. Just beyond Andermatt, at Hospenthal, 
 we left the St. Gothard, to follow the Furka pass. All 
 around was barren desolation, as we went on, still as- 
 cending, leaving every sign of human life behind. 
 Rocky and black the mountains rose, bearing only lich- 
 ens and ferns. Occasional patches of snow appeared, 
 lying in the beds of the last year's torrents, or scattered 
 along beside the road. But here, where Nature had 
 bestowed little to soften and beautify, she had spread 
 upon the barren land, and tucked in among the rocks, a 
 covering of exquisitely delicate flowers. You cannot 
 realize, until you have seen them, the variety, beauty, 
 and profusion of the Alpine flowers. Looking back in 
 memory upon the bare rocks, doomed to stand here 
 through all time in solitude and in the midst of desola- 
 tion, as though in expiation of some sin, it is pleasant 
 to remember that at their feet and in their clefts these 
 little flowers nestle and bloom. 
 
 We gathered nosegays and made snowballs, and at 
 noon gained the summit of the Furka, and rested an hour 
 
184 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 or two at the inn — the only sign of house or hut we 
 had seen since morning. The rough salons, the pas- 
 sage, the doorway, even the space outside, were alive 
 with tourists. It is a continual jar upon one's sense of 
 the fitness of things, something to which you never 
 become thoroughly accustomed, until all freshness of 
 sight-seeing is passed — this coming suddenly upon the 
 world in the midst of the unutterable solitude of na- 
 ture ; this plunging into a crowd dressed in the latest 
 style, and discussing universal frivolities where the 
 very rocks and hills seem to stand in silent adoration. 
 But after the first moment you, too, form one of the 
 frivolous throng, the sight and sound of which shock 
 the sensibilities of the next comer. 
 
 From the inn a tongue of land, green and dotted 
 with flowers, falls into the valley below. On either 
 side rises a mountain, scarred by the torrents dried 
 away now, and stained this day with the last year's 
 snow, while beyond — ever beyond, like some heav- 
 enly heights we vainly strove to gain — rose the 
 Bernese Alps. 
 
 From the summit of the Fnrka we descended to the 
 Rhone glacier by one of the zigzag mountain roads. 
 Looking down over the edge, we could see below, the 
 ways we were yet to follow on the mountain face be- 
 fore accomplishing the descent. The horses dashed 
 down at a flying pace. The inclination of the road 
 was not sufficient to alarm ; but the turns are always 
 so frightfully abrupt as to make it seem as though the 
 leader must dash off. But no; he invariably swung 
 around just upon the outer edge, held, it seemed some- 
 times, by the traces, and with a crack of the driver's 
 
DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 185 
 
 whip was off again before our fears, if we had any, 
 could find words. 
 
 One of these abrupt turns fairly hangs over the 
 glacier, where the icy river has fallen into broken 
 masses from a higher point, before spreading out in 
 the narrow valley just here where it ends. Only a 
 short distance from the foot of the glacier is the inn, 
 with its scattered out-buildings, where we were to 
 spend the night. The sheer descent from the summit 
 of the Furka is only about half a mile ; but though our 
 horses had galloped the whole distance, and the inn 
 was in sight all the time, we were three hours reaching 
 it ; so many turns did the road make upon the face of 
 the mountain. 
 
 It was a gloomy valley, shut in by mountains, and 
 surrounded by lesser hills all soaked and dripping with 
 icy streams that chilled the air. We gained the foot 
 of the glacier from the inn by a rough path over and 
 among the rocks, and stones, and heaps of gravel it 
 had brought down and deposited here. From beneath 
 the solid mass of ice flowed a hundred shallow streams, 
 which, uniting, form the beginning of the River Rhone. 
 We penetrated for a short distance the gallery cut into 
 the glacier, surrounded and shut down upon by the 
 walls and ceiling, of a deep blue color, and were pre- 
 ceded by an old man, who awoke the echoes by uttering 
 a series of broken cries. What with the echoes and 
 horrible chill, the place seemed most unearthly, and 
 we were glad to retreat. 
 
 The roar of torrents, and hardly less thunderous 
 noise of departing diligences, awakened us the next 
 morning. We were soon off upon the road, skirting 
 
186 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 the mountains, rolling through the pleasant valleys, 
 and passing village after village now. They seemed 
 silent and deserted, their occupants perhaps busy in 
 the fields, or serving at the inns, or among the moun- 
 tains as guides. One was a mass of ruins, thrown 
 down in the bed of a torrent, among which a few dull- 
 faced peasants were at work, with a hopeless, aimless 
 air, that promised little. A mountain stream, swollen 
 to a flood by melting snows, had swept it away in a 
 night. 
 
 At noon we lunched at Viesch — a slipshod, un- 
 washed village, by the side of the young Rhone, which 
 so far, in its dirty, chalk-white color, was not unlike the 
 white-headed children that played upon its banks. 
 Some of the party left the horses to their noon rest, 
 and strayed out upon the road beyond the village. On 
 its outskirts was a fine new church, of stone. If only 
 something of its beauty could but come into the every- 
 day lives of the poor people here ! We sat down upon 
 the steps to wait. Across the road was an orchard, 
 roughly fenced in; beside it one of the picturesque 
 Swiss peasant houses — all steps, and queer old gal- 
 leries, from which a little tow-headed girl stared out 
 at us in open-eyed wonder, as we blew the down from 
 the dried dandelions we had pulled along the way, 
 and questioned if, in our far-off homes, our mothers 
 wanted us ! 
 
 It seemed as though we could descend no farther ; 
 and yet, after sweeping through a valley, a sudden turn 
 would disclose another, far below, to which this was as 
 a mountain. So down we sped the whole day long ; 
 once by a frightfully-narrow zigzag road, the worst by 
 
DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 187 
 
 far of any we had seen ; passing still through the vil- 
 lages so charming in the distance, but dirty, and full 
 of odors by no means of sanctity, as we drew near. 
 At night we rattled into the paved square before the 
 inn at Brieg, just as the first drops of a coming shower 
 wet its stones. 
 
 This was evidently something more than a village. 
 The houses were plastered, instead of being of wood 
 with a rich, burnt-sienna color, like those we had seen 
 along the road through the day. They were thickly 
 clustered together, and from their midst rose the four 
 turrets of a chateau. Our inn was a delightfully-dingy 
 old place. It had been an Ursuline convent, and 
 abounded in queer, dark passages, rough stone stair- 
 ways, and old wooden galleries overlooking the square. 
 One of our rooms had been a part of the convent chap- 
 el, and was still lighted by a window just beneath the 
 groined roof. Here we braided our hair, and knotted 
 our ribbons, and dreamed, in the twilight that followed 
 the rain, of the hopeless ones who had sought comfort 
 in other days within these walls, and fell asleep at 
 last, knowing full well that the fringe of many an old 
 prayer was still caught and held in the arches high 
 over our heads. We walked up through the town the 
 next morning, to the beginning of the Simplon Pass. 
 Somewhere in the narrow sreets we passed the old 
 chateau, and pressed our faces against the bars of a 
 gate, in order to gain some idea as to the domestic 
 economy of the family which had bestowed upon Brieg 
 its air of importance. But the chateau had degenerated 
 into a brewery, and the court-yard was filled with old 
 carts, clumsy and broken. 
 
188 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Farther up the hill the door of a little chapel stood 
 invitingly open, waiting for stray worshippers, or a 
 chance-burdened heart (for even so far away as Brieg, 
 hearts do grow heavy, I doubt not). Something in its 
 narrow, whitewashed poverty touched our sympathies. 
 It is rare indeed in these countries to find a chapel 
 without at least some votive offering to make it beauti- 
 ful in the eyes of the simple people : here was only a 
 crucifix, and we pleased ourselves with the fancy that 
 when the ships come in that we sent out as children — 
 laden with hopes that were to be bartered for treas- 
 ures — we would return, and hang the walls with 
 pictures, and make the whole place wonderful in the 
 eyes that had seen only its bareness. The shower the 
 night before had laid the dust, and the drive that morn- 
 ing was most enjoyable. Following the course of the 
 noisy Rhone, we reached Sierre at noon, where we left 
 the carriages with regret, and took the railway train to 
 Martigny. 
 
AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 
 
 The quaint inn. — The Falls of the Sallenehes, and the Gorge 
 de Trient. — Shopping in a Swiss village. — A mule ride to 
 Chamouni. — Peculiarities of the animals. — Entrance to the 
 village. — Egyptian mummies lifted from the mules. — Rainy- 
 days. — Chamois. — The Mer de Glace. — "Look out of 
 your window." — Mont Blanc. — Sallenehes. — A diligence 
 ride to Geneva. — Our little old woman. — The clownish 
 peasant. — The fork in the road. — "Adieu." 
 
 OUR hotel here at Martigny, was even more sug- 
 gestive of romance than the one at Brieg. It 
 had been a monastery, and was an old, yellow-washed 
 structure facing the street, with a rambling garden 
 surrounded by high walls, clinging to it in the rear. 
 Low, dark rooms, with bare, unpainted floors, like the 
 waves of the sea in smoothness, were given to some of 
 our party, while Mrs. K. and I were consigned again, 
 with singular appropriateness, to what had been the 
 chapel. Its windows overlooked the straggling, half- 
 dead trees, and bare, hard-baked earth of the open 
 space before the door, which was always being crossed 
 by strings of mules ornamented with bright saddle- 
 cloths, and still further with the ubiquitous tourist 
 arrayed in every known costume of the period. Vil- 
 
190 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 lage girls, too, passed under the trees, knitting as they 
 went, and horrible creatures afflicted with the\gotire — 
 that curse of this region ■)— which we met at every 
 turn now. 
 
 To gain the long, low refectory where we dined, or 
 to pass from one room to another, necessitated crossing 
 the brick-paved cloisters, upon which all the doors 
 of the second story opened. Here a row of columns 
 encircled a narrow, inner court-yard — so narrow as to 
 be nothing more than a slit in the walls, yet wide 
 enough to allow the shimmering sunlight to drop down 
 upon the vines twined around the columns, and light 
 the whole dingy interior into a weird, strange beauty. 
 
 We rode out to the Falls of the Sallenches, — one of 
 the mist veils left hanging from many of these Swiss 
 mountains by the water-sprites, — and penetrated the 
 Gorge de Trient upon the shaky gallery that follows 
 its windings ; wandered about and beyond the town ; 
 stole into an old church, and brought away the mem- 
 ory of a lovely virgin face; and haunted the dingy 
 shops in the vain hope of making a few necessary pur- 
 chases. These shops were not unlike our New Eng- 
 land country stores in their combined odors and con- 
 fused incapabilities. Behind the counters, or more 
 likely sitting in the doorway with the inevitable blue 
 knitting in hand, were old women, of hard, baked-apple 
 faces, whose ideas of the luxuries of a woman's ward- 
 robe were so far below what we considered its necessa- 
 ries, that we parted in mutual surprise, to say the 
 least, and without gain on either side. 
 
 Sabbath morning, English church service was held 
 in the parlor of one of the hotels ; after which a 
 
AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 191 
 
 clergyman in gown and bands discoursed from the 
 text, " And there shall be no more sea," — a peculiarly 
 comforting hope to some of us. 
 
 Monday morning, we mounted the horses and mules 
 waiting in dejected impatience before the door, and 
 started upon the long ride of twenty two miles to 
 Chamouni by the Tete Noir Pass. A wide, pleasant 
 avenue, shaded by walunt trees, led out of the town ; 
 after which we began to ascend the gently-sloping 
 mountain-sides, passing occasional villages, and be- 
 sieged by beggars and venders of fruit, as usual. In- 
 deed, these beggars are so constant in their attendance 
 and importunity that one forgets to mention them, un- 
 less recalling flies and similar swarming annoyances. 
 
 The scenery, as we went on, was often grand, always 
 interesting; the sky overcast, but at times the clouds, 
 drifting apart, disclosed peaks or "needles" so far 
 above the mountains about us as to seem a revelation of 
 heaven. The path was treacherous and rough — skirt- 
 ing precipices, descending in rocky steps or slippery 
 mire, and crossing mountain streams by narrow, inse- 
 cure bridges. Single tile is the invariable rule in all 
 these mountain excursions, and after a time the isola- 
 tions of this mode of travelling adds to its wearisome- 
 ness. Solitude is delightful ; but as some one has said, 
 " How pleasant it is to have a friend near by to whom 
 you may remark, c How delightful is solitude ! ' " 
 
 As you follow the windings of the narrow, steep path, 
 you have a choice between addressing the back of the 
 one who precedes you, and throwing a remark over your 
 shoulder to those who come after. Involuntarily you 
 fall to studying the curves of the former, and are 
 
192 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 utterly indifferent to the fact that the latter are proba- 
 bly meditating upon the intricacies of your back hair. 
 Mule-riding is conducive to grace of neither soul nor 
 body; still you know you are not making such a spec- 
 tacle of yourself as did the woman just passed — who 
 twisted about in the saddle as though worked along 
 by rotary motion. Perhaps not. 
 
 As you leave the villages to plunge into the woods, 
 the flies swarm like beggars ; and it is only when the 
 guides have cut boughs from the trees, which you 
 wave before you, wickedly suggesting palm branches, 
 that you can proceed with tolerable comfort, and with- 
 out the fear of an unexpected toss in the air, as one 
 kick after another runs down the line. 
 
 Each horse or mule has his own slight peculiarities 
 of habit and disposition. I recall one whose inordinate 
 curiosity led him to walk always upon the verge of 
 the precipices, so that the rider's feet overhung the 
 frightful depths. Murray says it is best to allow these 
 animals to choose their own paths. But to hang sus- 
 pended between heaven and earth at the mercy of 
 a strap and a mule, will shake one's faith, even in 
 Murray. 
 
 My horse this day was possessed of the dreamy, mel- 
 ancholy nature of a poet, with the attendant lack of 
 ambition. Every time we wound funereally through a 
 village, he would walk deliberately to the mounting- 
 steps, and wait most suggestively. Indeed, an air of 
 abstraction characterized all his movements; even 
 when, as we approached these villages, raising his head, 
 he would seem to sniff the odors of Araby the Blest ; 
 which was a mistake, a delusion of his fancy shared by 
 
AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 193 
 
 none of the others of the party. That he was without 
 pride I must confess. No stable did we pass so poor, 
 none so mean, that he was ashamed to pause and offer 
 to enter with meek obdurateness. 
 
 Poetic as was his temperament, his appetites were de- 
 veloped in a remarkable degree. Once upon a narrow 
 bridge we met two walking haystacks, out from which 
 peered great, blue eyes. If the size of his mouth had 
 corresponded at all to his desires, they would have 
 vanished from sight in a twinkling; as it was, they 
 barely escaped. Whether or not insatiable thirst is an 
 attribute of a poet, I do not know ; but each stream 
 which crossed the path, — and the whole country seemed 
 liquidizing, — each drinking-trough beside the way, — 
 and to my excited imagination they seemed to form an 
 unbroken line, — was an irresistible temptation. It was 
 only by shouting, " Yeep ! Yeep ! " in staccato chorus, 
 and vigorously applying the palm branches, thus en- 
 gaging his attention and diverting his thoughts into 
 less watery channels, that we succeeded in making any 
 progress whatever. Under this disciplinary process his 
 nature was at last so far subdued that he would have 
 passed the ocean itself without a sigh, I am sure. 
 
 There was a rest of an hour at the Tete Noir inn at 
 noon, shut in by the firs, and rocks, and mountains, 
 then we went on to Argentiere, where we gladly ex- 
 changed the horses and mules for some low, open carts 
 with a couple of villagers in blue blouses for drivers. 
 In these we accomplished the remaining three or four 
 miles, and made a triumphal entry into Chamouni. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when We crawled up the 
 narrow, thronged street to the Hotel Royal, from which 
 13 
 
194 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 the English, French, and American flags were flying. 
 The clouds had dropped lower and lower, until a fine 
 mist was beginning to deepen into rain, and the guides 
 and tourists detained in the village fairly jostled each 
 other at the intersection of the two principal streets, 
 which seemed to form the village Exchange. The mire 
 of the streets was thickly stamped with hoof-prints 
 and the marks from the nails that stud the shoe-soles 
 of the mountain climbers. Line after line of doleful 
 looking objects, which might prove Egyptian mum- 
 mies when unwrapped, were being lifted from still 
 more sorry looking beasts before the door of the hotel, 
 and assaying to mount the steps, with a stiffness and 
 angularity of movement in which we all sympathized. 
 
 Indeed, after dinner, when a bright fire was lighted 
 in the long salon where the various parties gathered 
 to read, write, look over stereoscopic views, or chat 
 among themselves, it was amusing, as well as pitiable 
 to observe the abortive attempts at ease and flexibility 
 as these individuals crossed the polished floor, to hear 
 the groans smothered to sighs as they resumed their 
 seats. " Mules ! " whispered the girls, nudging each 
 other, and mindful of the delight which misery is said 
 to find in company. 
 
 All the next day the rain dripped down upon the 
 village from the heavy clouds that hid the mountains. 
 Everybody improved the opportunity to write letters, 
 or yawned over the books scattered about the salon. 
 Among them was a well-thumbed copy of " Artemus 
 Ward, His Book." At the foot of each page the local 
 allusions of the jokes were explained, I remember. 
 Out in the street, umbrellas were dodging about from 
 
AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 195 
 
 one shop to another. These rainy days, though a loss 
 to the guides, are harvest times for the shopkeepers. 
 Photographs and stereoscopic views of the mountains, 
 the glaciers, and daring climbers hanging on by their 
 eyelids, abound here, with any amount of wood and 
 chamois (?) horn carving and crystal ornaments. Speak- 
 ing of chamois-horn, if you expect to see in Switzer- 
 land — as you do in geographies — chamois perched 
 upon every crag, preparatory to bounding from peak to 
 peak, you will be grievously disappointed. Not a cham- 
 ois will greet your eyes. We passed — I have forgotten 
 where — a pen in which, by paying a certain sum, we 
 might look upon a veritable live chamois ; but we had no 
 desire to see the incarnation of liberty thus degraded. 
 
 "We waited two days for the uplifting of the clouds, 
 making, in the mean time, an excursion up the Montan- 
 vert to overlook the Mer de Glace — which is not a 
 sea, but a river of ice, like all the, glaciers that have 
 worked themselves down into these valleys. We re- 
 tired one night with the cloud curtains spread low over 
 our heads ; the next morning a voice from outside of 
 our door called, " Look out of your window." We sprang 
 up, seized the cord of the shutters, and behold ! a new 
 heaven and new earth ! Every vestige of cloud was 
 gone. The mountains were bathed in sunlight, vivid 
 green were the peaks before us, which had never met 
 our gaze until now, while behind the nearest, against 
 the deep blue of the summer sky, rose the three vast 
 white steps which lead heavenward, the highest of which 
 men call Mont Blanc. All that morning, as we de- 
 scended from the valley of Chamouni to Sallenches, we 
 turned continually to look back ; and still, white and 
 
196 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 beautiful, but growing less in the distance, rose the 
 triple domes. 
 
 We had taken a carriage to Sallenches : here we find 
 places in the open diligence for Geneva. We pause in 
 the first village through which we pass, where a knot 
 of people gathers about a round little old woman. She 
 wears a wide-rimmed hat over her neat frilled cap, and 
 carries another upon her arm. Her waist is dimly de- 
 fined by the strings of a voluminous apron, and her 
 mind entirely distracted by the cares attendant upon 
 the disposal of a cotton bag, a wicker basket, an old 
 umbrella, and a box, which half a dozen men seize upon 
 with clumsy hands, in good-natured officiousness, and 
 thrust into the baggage compartment, while the women 
 and children press about her, kissing the rough, ruddy 
 cheeks, and uttering what we are sure must be bless- 
 ings — odds and ends of which float up to us. Evi- 
 dently the little, old woman is going a journey. Aided 
 by a dozen rough, helpful hands, she climbs the ladder 
 to her place beside us, with a deprecatory though cheer- 
 ful " Bon jour " to us all, subsiding into a corner, where 
 she is immediately submerged as her belongings are 
 showered down upon her ; last of all a crumpled letter 
 is tossed into her lap. 
 
 The driver mounts to his place; she leans over; a 
 perfect gust of blessings, and kisses, and adieus follow 
 us, as with a crack of the whip the horses spring away, 
 and we leave the village far behind. 
 
 Suddenly — for we have turned away our faces — the 
 little old woman's hand is plunged into the cotton bag 
 under our feet. We venture to look around. The tears 
 have gone ; her face beams like the sun, as she brings 
 
" Evidently the little old woman is going a journey." Page 196. 
 
AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 197 
 
 out of the depths a couple of eggs. Another dive, 
 and she emerges with a piece of bread. A pinch of 
 salt is added from the basket, and her breakfast is com- 
 plete. She hospitably offers a share to each of us. 
 We decline ; and as a shadow dims the brightness of 
 her face, Katie adds quickly, — 
 
 " We have had two breakfasts already." 
 
 The little old woman rolls her round, blue eyes to 
 heaven, with a pious ejaculation. Such lavish extrav- 
 agance is beyond her comprehension. 
 
 "That is like you rich people," she says. "We are 
 only too happy if the good God sends us one? And 
 she relapses into a wondering silence. 
 
 "Does madame travel far?" we venture presently. 
 
 "Ah, yes." And she shakes her head slowly. 
 Words cannot express the distance, it is so great. 
 
 " But she has been this way before ? " we go on. 
 
 " No, never before." And again the round, blue 
 eyes seek heaven, and again a deep sigh follows the 
 words. She has finished her lunch, and, diving under 
 our feet, emerges after a time with a box, which, 
 opened, discloses a small store of peppermints. This 
 she offers with some hesitation, and we each hasten to 
 accept one, her countenance beaming more and more 
 as they disappear. " Given to hospitality," the little 
 old woman has been, we know. 
 
 When the box is with difficulty replaced, the string 
 of the bag drawn, the basket arranged to her satisfac- 
 tion, the umbrella placed at a pleasing angle, she bal- 
 ances herself upon the edge of the seat, and glances 
 fearfully from side to side as we swing along the smooth 
 road. Once, when the wheel passes over a stone, she 
 seems to murmur a prayer. 
 
198 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 " Madame is not afraid ? " we say. 
 
 "0, very much. These diligences are most danger- 
 ous." And now she is glancing over her shoulder at a 
 rocky wall of mountains which follows the road at a dis- 
 tance. "They might fall." And she shudders with 
 the thought. We assure her that it is impossible ; but 
 she has heard of a rock falling upon a diligence, and 
 thinks it was upon this road. And all the horror of 
 the fearful catastrophe is depicted upon her face. 
 Gradually we learn that the little old woman has never 
 travelled in a diligence before ; that she has never be- 
 fore made any journey, in fact. For forty years she 
 has kept the house of the cure in her native village. 
 Now, she tells us with a sigh, and uplifted eyes, he has 
 " become dead," and she is obliged to seek a home 
 elsewhere among strangers. Here she turns away her 
 eyes, which grow dim as her smile, and for a moment 
 forgets her fears. 
 
 We are approaching a village. She hastily searches 
 her basket and brings out the crumpled letter which had 
 been thrown into her lap. As we dart through the 
 narrow street and across an open square, she leans out, 
 utters a word in a sharp, excited tone, and, to our 
 surprise, throws the letter far out into the dust of the 
 street. An idle lounger in the square starts at her 
 voice, runs heavily across the street, and picks it up. 
 She sinks back, all cheerful smiles again. She has 
 chanced upon the very man to whom the letter was 
 addressed. 
 
 The dust rolls up from the great wheels. She ex- 
 changes the hat upon her head for the one over her 
 arm, covering the former carefully with a corner of 
 
AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 199 
 
 her apron. This, she tells us, as she arranges the 
 second upon her head, she was accustomed to wear 
 when she picked vegetables of a morning in the garden 
 of the good cure. And the sighs return with the 
 recollection of her master. 
 
 The day wears on with heat and sifting dust. By 
 and by, at another village, a filthy, dull-fiiced peasant 
 clambers up the ladder and stumbles into a vacant 
 place. We shrink away from him in disgust. Our 
 little old woman only furtively draws aside her neat 
 petticoats. Soon she engages him in conversation. 
 We see her lean far forward with intense, questioning 
 gaze upon the distance where he points with dirt-be- 
 grimed finger. Then with a sigh which seems to come 
 from the baggage compartment beneath us, so very 
 deep and long-drawn it is, she turns to us. She, too, 
 points to a range of hills, very dark and gloomy now, 
 for they are covered with woods, and the shadow of a 
 cloud lies upon them. 
 
 " It is there, beyond the mountains, I am going ; " 
 and the shadow of the cloud has fallen upon her face. 
 All the sunshine has fiided out of it. Then, with 
 something warmer, brighter than any sunshine gleam- 
 ing in her eyes, she adds, " But the good God takes 
 care of us wherever we go." 
 
 We have reached a fork in the road. There is no 
 village, no house even, in sight. Why, then, do we 
 pause? The ladder is raised. 
 
 " It must be for me ! " gasps the little old woman, 
 casting one bewildered glance over to where the shad- 
 ows are creeping, and then calmly gathering together 
 her possessions. We grasp the hands she extends, we 
 
200 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABO AD. 
 
 pour out confused, unintelligible blessings. Is it the 
 dust which blinds our eyes ? Even the clownish peasant 
 stumbles clown the ladder, and lifts out her box. The 
 driver remounts. The whip cracks. We lean far out. 
 We wave our hands. Again the dust fills our eyes 
 so that our sight for a moment is dim, as we dash away, 
 leaving her sitting there alone upon her box, where the 
 two roads meet. But beyond the hills where the 
 shadows rested, we know that the sun still shines for 
 our little old woman whose master "became dead." 
 
LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 201 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LAST DAYS IN SWITZERLAND. 
 
 Geneva. — Calvin and jewelry. — Up Lake Leman. — Ouchy and 
 Lausanne. — " Sweet Clarens." — Chillon. — Freyburg. — 
 Sight-seers. — The Last Judgment. — Berne and its bears. — 
 
 — The town like a story. — The Lake of Thun. — Interlaken. 
 
 — Over the Wengern Alp. — The Falls of Giessbach. — The 
 Brunig Pass. — Lucerne again. 
 
 "VX^E dashed up to the hotel upon one of the fine 
 |f quays at Geneva, and descended from the 
 open diligence with all the appearance of travellers 
 who had crossed a sandy desert. There is an air of 
 experienced travel which only dust can impart. 
 
 The most charming sight in the city, to us, was our 
 own names upon the waiting letters here. In truth, 
 there are no sights in Geneva. Tourists visit the city 
 because they have been or are going elsewhere, be- 
 yond. If they pause, it is to rest or buy the jewelry 
 so far-famed. To be sure the view from almost any 
 window opening upon the blue Rhone is pleasing, 
 crossed by various bridges as it is, one of which 
 touches Rousseau's Island. But our heads by this 
 time were as full of views as that of a Boston woman. 
 Calvinists and Arminians alike visit the Cathedral, 
 and sit for a moment in the old reformer's chair, or at 
 
202 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 least look upon the canopy of carved wood from be- 
 neath which he used to preach. There are few mon- 
 uments here. The interior is bare, and boarded into 
 the stiff pews, which belong by right and the fitness 
 of things, not to these grand, Gothic cathedrals, but to 
 the Puritan meeting-houses, where we gather less to 
 breathe a prayer than to sit solemnly apart and listen 
 to a denunciation of each other's sins. 
 
 It is a little remarkable that the city where Calvin 
 made and enforced such rigid laws against luxury, and 
 the vanities of the world should, in these latter days, 
 be noted for the manufacture of jewelry. But so it is ; 
 and to walk the streets and gaze in at the shop win- 
 dows would turn the head of any but the strongest- 
 minded woman. Two or three addresses had been 
 given us of manufactories where we could be served 
 at more reasonable rates than at the grand shops. We 
 climbed flight after flight of dingy stone stairs, in 
 dingier buildings, to reach them, and found ourselves 
 at last in little dark rooms, almost filled by a counter, 
 a desk, and a safe or two. Certainly no one would 
 think of looking for beautiful things here! But we 
 had become tolerably accustomed to such places in 
 Paris, and were not at all surprised when one shallow 
 drawer after another was produced from behind the 
 counter, and a blaze of gems and bewildering show of 
 delicately executed gold work met our eyes. If you 
 care for a souvenir only, there are/ pretty little finger- 
 rings encircled by blue forget-me-nots in enamel, which 
 are a specialty of Geneva./ But if you possess the 
 means and disposition, you may gratify the most ex- 
 travagant desires, and rival Solomon in magnificence. 
 
LAST DAYS IN SWITZERLAND. 203 
 
 Twice a clay steamers leave Geneva to ascend the 
 lake. It was a bright, summer afternoon when we em- 
 barked from the pier beyond our hotel, and steamed 
 away past the villages that lie along its edge. Among 
 them is(Coppet, the home of Madame de Stael,jthe 
 towers of which rise up behind the town. The deck 
 of the steamer was alive with tourists. One party, 
 from meeting at every turn, rests even yet in memory; 
 the 1 idies stout, red-faced, and showily dressed, with 
 immense "charms" pendent from their chatelaines — 
 shovels, tongs, and pokers, life-size — the result of a 
 sojourn at Geneva, doubtless. 
 
 For some time after leaving the city, we could look 
 back upon Mont Blanc, white and beautiful, rising 
 above the dark mountains, and lying close against the 
 sky blue as the waters of the lake. The likeness of a 
 recumbent figure of Napoleon — the head and shoul- 
 ders alone, — in the garb of a grenadier was startling, 
 haunting us even after it had changed again to a snow- 
 white mountain. As though the hero slept, like those 
 in German legends, until his country called him to 
 awake and lead its hosts to battle. 
 
 At Ouchy we leave the steamer, where the gardens 
 of the grand hotel Beaurivage come down to meet us. 
 How delightful are these Swiss hotels ! with their pleas- 
 ant gardens, many balconies, wide windows, and the 
 flying flags outside ; and within, scrupulous neatness, 
 and even elegant appointments. The rooms vary in 
 size rather than in degree of comfort, there being none 
 of the sudden leaps or plunges between luxury and 
 utter discomfort, found in so many hotels — elsewhere. 
 The floors are bare, the strips of wood forming squares 
 
204 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 or diamonds, waxed, and highly polished. A rug here 
 and there invites bare feet. A couple of neatly-spread 
 beds stand foot to foot upon one side of the room, 
 * sometimes with silk or lace coverlets, but with always 
 the duvet, or large down pillow, at the foot. There is 
 no stint of toilet arrangements. A lounge and easy- 
 chairs tempt to idleness and repose ; and a round table, 
 of generous proportions, awaits the chocolate, rolls, 
 fresh butter, and amber honey, when the last curl is in 
 order, the last ribbon knotted, and you have rung for 
 your breakfast. Of course the rooms vary in degree 
 of ornamentation. The walls are often beautifully 
 tinted or frescoed, and the furniture elegant ; but the 
 neatness and comfort among these summer hotels are 
 almost universal. Sometimes, in one corner, or built 
 into the wall, stands the high, white porcelain stove, 
 so like a stray monument that has forgotten its inscrip- 
 tion, and is sacred to many memories ; and the long, 
 plate-glass windows, swinging back, open often upon a 
 balcony and a charming view. No wonder that half 
 the hotels in Switzerland are named Bellevue. 
 
 An omnibus bears you from Ouchy, which is simply 
 the port of Lausanne, back into the city, past pretty 
 country residences, walled in, over the gates of which 
 the owners have placed suggestive names : " My Rest ; " 
 "Heart's Desire;" "Good Luck;" "Beautiful Situa- 
 tion ; " anything which fancy or individual taste may dic- 
 tate. Of Lausanne I recall little but an endless mount- 
 ing and descending of stairs. The city is built upon a hill, 
 intersected by ravines, which accounts for this peculiar 
 method of gaining many streets from others above and 
 below. We made but a hurried visit. It was market 
 
LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 205 
 
 day, and ugly women, old and young, were sitting 
 upon the sidewalks in the narrow streets, knitting, 
 with the yarn held over the fore-finger of the left hand, 
 and selling fruits and vegetables between times. In 
 the honey market the air fairly buzzed and swarmed ; 
 yet still these women knit, and gossiped, and bargained 
 complacently, unmindful of the bees in their bonnets. 
 From Ouchy we made an excursion to the head of the 
 lake. It is a short voyage of two hours to Villeneuve, 
 the last town. Clouds hid the distant mountains ; but 
 those lesser and nearer, upon our right, as we went on, 
 were bare, and broken, and rocky, contrasting strange- 
 ly with the gently swelling slopes upon the other side, 
 covered with vineyards, and with quiet little villages at 
 their feet. Each of these villages has its romantic as- 
 sociation ; or, failing in that, a grand hotel to attract 
 summer visitors. Vevay boasts the largest hotel, but 
 nothing more. Just beyond Vevay is " Clarens, sweet 
 Clarens," the willows of which dip into the lake. 
 Here, if Rousseau and Byron are to be believed, Love 
 was born ; possibly in some one of the mean little 
 houses which border the narrow streets. 
 
 Soon after leaving Clarens, the gray, stained tower 
 of Chillon rises from the water, near enough to the 
 shore to be reached by a bridge. With the "little 
 isle " and its three tall trees marked by the prisoner 
 as he paced his lonely cell, ends the romance of the 
 lake. Poets have sung its beauties, but Lucerne had 
 stolen away our hearts, and we gazed upon the rocks, 
 and vineyards, and villages, with cold, critical eyes. 
 It was only later, when the summer twilight fell as we 
 lingered upon the balcony before our windows at 
 
206 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 Ouchy that we acknowledged its charm. The witch- 
 ing sound of music came up from the garden below. 
 Upon the silver lake before us, the lateen sails, like the 
 •white wings of great sea-birds, gleamed out from the 
 darkness; the tiny wavelets rippled and plashed softly 
 against the breakwater; and where the clouds had 
 parted overhead, a horned moon hung low in the sky, 
 while the mountains resolved themselves into shadows 
 or other waiting clouds. 
 
 There w r as a little church between Ouchy and Lau- 
 sanne, gained by crossing the fields, where we remem- 
 bered the Sabbath day, and joined in the church ser- 
 vice led by an English clergyman. These Sabbaths 
 are like green spots now in memory, — restful, cool, 
 refreshing, and pleasant to recall, — when the world, 
 and all haste and perplexity of strange sights, and 
 sounds, and ways, were rolled off like a heavy burden, 
 while we gathered, a little company of strangers in a 
 strange land, yet of one family, to unite in the familiar 
 prayers, and hymns, and grand old chants. 
 
 Monday morning the "American cars" bore us away 
 from Lausanne to Freyburg. But such a caricature 
 are they upon our railway carriages, that we were in- 
 clined to resent the appellation. Low, bare, box-like, 
 with only three or four seats upon each side, they 
 hardly suggested the original. 
 
 We had chosen the route through Freyburg that we 
 might visit the suspension bridge, and hear the cel- 
 ebrated organ. The city clings to the sides of a ravine 
 after the perverse manner of cities, instead of spread- 
 ing itself out comfortably upon level land. So steep 
 is the declivity that the roofs of some of the houses 
 
LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 207 
 
 form the pavement for the street above. At the foot 
 of the ravine flows a river crossed by bridges, and the 
 towns-people have for centuries descended from the 
 summit on one side to climb to that upon the other, 
 until some humane individual planned and perfected 
 this suspension bridge, — the longest in the world save 
 one, — which is thrown across the chasm. In order to 
 test its strength, when completed, the inhabitants of 
 the city, or a portion of them, gathered in a mass, with 
 artillery and horses, and stood upon it ! Then they 
 marched over it, preceded by a band of music, with all 
 the dignitaries of the town at the head of the column. 
 Since it did not bend or break beneath their weight, it 
 is deemed entirely safe. 
 
 Through the most closely-built portion of the city 
 runs the old city wall, with its high, cone-capped watch- 
 towers, and the narrow, crooked, and often steep 
 streets are very quaint. The sense of satisfaction 
 which returns with the memory of these streets is 
 perhaps partly due to the fact, that the girls of the 
 party surveyed them from above great squares of gin- 
 gerbread bought at a patisserie near the station, and 
 ate as they strolled through the town over the pavings 
 of these crooked ways. The bread of dependence is 
 said to be exceedingly bitter ; but the gingerbread of 
 Freyburg is uncommonly sweet, in memory. 
 
 When the suspension bridge has been crossed and 
 commented upon, every one strikes a bee-line to the 
 Cathedral, which rises conspicuously above its sur- 
 roundings. It would be very amusing to watch the 
 professional sight-seers at all these places, if one did 
 not belong to the fraternity, which makes of it quite 
 
208 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 another affair. There is no air of pleasuring about 
 them ; no placid expression of content and sweet-to-do- 
 nothing. They seldom are found meandering along 
 the tortuous streets, the milk of human kindness moist- 
 ening every feature, beams of satisfaction irradiating 
 every countenance. They never spend long hours 
 wandering among the cloisters of old cathedrals, or 
 dream away clays by storied shrines, as friends at home, 
 who read of these places, fondly imagine. By no 
 means. The sight-seer is a man of business. He has 
 undertaken a certain amount of work, to be done in a 
 given time. He will do or die. And since it is a seri- 
 ous matter, involving doubt, he wears an appropriately 
 solemn and preoccupied expression of countenance. 
 He darts from point to point. He climbs stairs as 
 though impatient Fame waited for him at the top. His 
 emotions of wonder, admiration, or delight, must be- 
 stir themselves. He drives to the first point of inter- 
 est, strikes a bee-line to the second, cuts every corner 
 between that and the third, and then, consulting his 
 watch, desires to know if there is anything more, and 
 experiences his only moment of satisfaction when the 
 reply is in the negative. And the most remarkable 
 part of all is, that he goes abroad to enjoy himself. 
 
 But even if one is less ambitious, if you are so for- 
 tunate as to be naturally indolent, and to delight to 
 dwell in the shadow of dreams, you will shake off dull 
 sloth here. You live and move in a bustling crowd. 
 Every storied spot is thronged with visitors. Far from 
 musing by yourself, you can at best but follow in the 
 wake of the crowd, with the drone of an endless story 
 from the lips of a stupid guide in your ears, bringing 
 only confusion and weariness. 
 
LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 209 
 
 A notice upon the door of the Cathedral informed 
 us that the organ would not be played until evening. 
 We held a council of war, and decided to go on. Just 
 over our heads, as we stood before the entrance, was a 
 representation of the Last Judgment, cut in the stone, 
 in which the good, very scantily attired, and of most 
 self-satisfied countenances, trotted off after St. Peter, 
 who carried the father of all keys, to the door of a 
 castle representing heaven, while the poor wicked were 
 borne away in a Swiss basket, strapped upon the back 
 of a pig-headed devil, to a great pot over a blazing fire, 
 which a little imp was vigorously blowing up with a 
 pair of bellows. The wicked seeming to outnumber 
 the good (this was designed many centuries ago), and 
 the pot not being large enough to hold them all, the 
 surplus were thrust into the jaws of a patient croc- 
 odile near by. Seated in an arm-chair, above all this, 
 the devil looked down with an expression of entire 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The interior of the Cathedral was in no way remark- 
 able. In the choir (which you know, perhaps, is not a 
 place where girls stand in their best bonnets to sing 
 on Sundays, but the corner of these great cathedrals 
 in which the church service is held) were some fine 
 stained glass windows ; but even here, horrible mon- 
 keys and hideous animal figures, life-size, were cut from 
 the wood, and made to stand or crouch above the stalls 
 where the priests sit. Those old ecclesiastic artists 
 must have believed in a personal devil, who assumed 
 many forms. 
 
 A threatened shower hastened our steps to the sta- 
 tion some time before the arrival of the train, which 
 14 
 
210 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 seemed to come and go without regard to the hour ap- 
 pointed. While waiting, we read the advertisements 
 framed and hanging upon the walls, of hotels, shops, &c. 
 One of the latter, in a triumph of English, ran, — 
 
 Wood Carwlngs; 
 Choose as nowhere else. 
 
 We reached Berne before night, and drove to the Ho- 
 tel . If it could by some happy chance have been 
 
 turned inside out, how comfortable we might have been ! 
 The exterior was most inviting. A German waiter of 
 Irish face, who had a polyglot manner of speech, diffi- 
 cult to be understood, showed us to our rooms ; and the 
 table d'hote, to which we descended an hour later, was 
 made up of an uncommon array of prim-visaged indi- 
 viduals. Dickens's Mr. Chadband, in a very stiff, 
 white neckcloth, was my vis-a-vis. I looked every mo- 
 ment for his lips to open, and — " Wherefore air we 
 gathered here, my friends ? " to issue forth. 
 
 The guide-book had informed us that the greatest 
 attraction of Berne to strangers was the fine view of 
 the Bernese Alps to be gained from here ; but a cur- 
 tain of cloud hung before them during all our stay. 
 Still we were interested in the queer old city, with the 
 second story of the houses, through many of the 
 streets, projecting over the sidewalk, forming gloomy 
 arcades, and bright red cushions in the window seats, 
 where pretty girls sat and sewed, and watched the 
 passers clown below. I remember it rained, and there 
 was a market held out in the square before the hotel 
 windows in the early morning, where the umbrellas 
 made every old woman to dwell in her own tent for 
 
LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 211 
 
 the time. When it was over, and the rain had ceased 
 to fall, we waited in front of the old clock-tower before 
 driving out through the pleasant suburbs, with mar- 
 ket women, baskets on their arms, stray children, idle 
 loungers, and alert tourists, for the feeble puppet-show 
 heralded by the asthmatic crow of a rheumatic cock. 
 Of course it was a procession of bears. Everything 
 in Berne is, or has to do with, a bear, since the city 
 was founded upon the spot where somebody killed a 
 bear. Bears surmount most of the stone fountains.- in 
 the streets ; they ornament the monuments erected to 
 heroes. Cut from wood, they are offered for sale 
 as souve?iirs ; stuffed, they are exhibited at the 
 zoological gardens ; and, to crown all, government sup- 
 ports in luxury a whole family of bruins. We left the 
 carriage upon the Nydeck bridge, to look down into 
 the immense circular basin where they are kept. It 
 must be a dull life, even for a bear. They are ugly 
 creatures, with reddish fur, and spend their time climb- 
 ing a leafless semblance of a tree, with no object but 
 to descend again, or in sitting up to beg for biscuits of 
 visitors. So universal has the custom of bes;o-mg; be- 
 come in Switzerland, that even the bears take to it 
 quite naturally. 
 
 The mountains obstinately refusing to appear, we 
 left Berne for Thun, passing through a lovely country. 
 Only occasionally did a road appear ; then it would 
 seem to extend for long miles, bordered by immense, 
 close-planted trees. Neither fences nor hedges were 
 there to divide the fields ; but patches of grain were 
 thrown down anywhere and at any angle. Potatoes 
 were sown like grass instead of being planted in hills, 
 
212 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 and were devoured this year by rot — the worst feature 
 in the landscape. All through the early summer we 
 had seen hemp growing everywhere. Now it was cut, 
 and lying outspread upon the ground in odd regularity, 
 an occasional head only being left to run to seed. 
 
 There was nothing to visit in Thun. But the whole 
 town is like a story. Not an elegant, high-toned story, 
 to be sure, though a picturesque old castle and church 
 lifted themselves aristocratically above the more hum- 
 ble town. The streets are narrow, and as picturesque 
 as they are dirty, with a sidewalk sometimes above the 
 first, low, projecting story of the houses. 
 
 It is a mile from the town to the lake of the same 
 name. Close by the steamer landing, where we were 
 to embark for Newhaus, is the hotel Bellevue. With- 
 in the garden enclosure were several little chalets / one 
 to serve as reading-room, another as salle a manger, 
 while a third, beyond the pond, where swan were sail- 
 ing, displayed Swiss wares for sale. Here we lunched 
 and rested for an hour, before going up the lake. It is 
 a voyage of an hour and a half to its head, past beauti- 
 full villas upon one side, and precipitous rocks upon the 
 other. Once landed at Newhaus, — where there was 
 not a new house that we could see, but only a scanty 
 collection of little huts, — we searched about, with the 
 mud ankle deep, among the crowd of waiting vehicles, 
 for the omnibus which was to bear us the two miles 
 and a half to Interlaken and the hotel Jung Frau. If 
 you recall your geography lessons, you will perhaps 
 know that the two lakes, Thun and Brienz, are sepa- 
 rated by a strip of land, upon which is this village of 
 Interlaken. It is hardly more than one long street, 
 
LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 213 
 
 with green fields and a row of trees upon one side, and 
 a line of houses standing back upon the other. In full 
 view from the windows of these summer hotels, when 
 the sky is clear, rises the Jung Frau, between two great 
 mountain j>eaks. This is the only sight in Interlaken, 
 and yet the town throngs with visitors. It must be 
 intolerably hot here at times, lying low among the 
 mountains as does this valley. In the fields, behind the 
 grand hotels, is a long, low Kursaal, a rustic affair, with 
 a wide piazza. You may lunch, and read the news- 
 papers ; but government has prohibited the gambling. 
 There are delightful excursions to be made from here, 
 which accounts, perhaps, for the crowded hotels. And 
 there are several fine shops, where you may buy all or 
 any of the curiosities for which the country is well 
 known. 
 
 A rainy day crowded these shops and the hotel par- 
 lors, and made a busy scene the length of the street, 
 which is very like a country road. But the second 
 morning after our arrival, we rose early, to prepare for 
 an excursion over the Wengern Alp. The Jung Frau, 
 hidden the day before, appeared in full view with the 
 rolling away of the clouds, and we desired to ap- 
 proach nearer to the shy maiden. All the listlessness 
 of the day before was past. As we stepped out of the 
 little chalet, in the hotel garden, where — the hotel be- 
 ing full — we had slept in a room only vacated for the 
 night, with a pair of immense red slippers behind the 
 door, and Madame's gowns hanging from pegs on the 
 wall, everybody was astir. More than one party was 
 sipping their scalding coffee as we entered the hotel 
 breakfast-room, while, under the great trees outside, 
 guides and saddled horses waited impatiently. 
 
214 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 When we had tied on our wide-rimmed hats, and 
 gathered our shawls, we found a roomy carriage, an 
 open landau, waiting for us at the side-door of the 
 hotel. We drove quickly out of the town, followed by 
 and following other carriages, until we formed a long 
 procession by the time we had reached the valley of 
 Lauterbrunnen and began the ascent. It is a deep, dark 
 valley, shut in by innumerable overhanging rocks, from 
 which thread-like waterfalls hang suspended in air, or 
 are lost in spray. Hardly does the sun seem to pene- 
 trate its depth, and an indescribable gloom, as well as 
 chill, pervades the place. From a few scattered cot- 
 tages women and children emerged to follow the car- 
 riages, begging mutely or offering fruits, while at one 
 point a man awaited our approach to awake the echoes 
 with an Alpine horn. 
 
 After an hour we reach Lauterbrunnen, and leave 
 the carriage at the door of an inn, where a crowd bar- 
 gains and waits for guides and horses. We swell the 
 number. When we are served, we mount to our places, 
 and file out of the straggling village, turning before we 
 reach the Staubach Falls — a stream of silvery spray that 
 never touches earth, but swings and waves in mid-air. 
 The ascent grows more and more steep. The recent 
 rain has added to the icy streams, which filter con- 
 stantly from snows above, and the horses sink in the 
 mire, or slide and slip in a way by no means reassuring. 
 Often the path is mounted by steps of slipj)ery logs ; 
 when added to this is a precipice upon one side, we 
 hold our breath — and pass in safety. We commend 
 each other as we perform feats of valor and intrepidity 
 which would make our fortune in the ring, we fancy. 
 
LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 215 
 
 The guides, insolent and careless, stroll on in advance, 
 leaving the most timid to their own devices. Pres- 
 ently, as we enter a perfect slough of despond, we see 
 a man before us scraping the mire with a hoe vigor- 
 ously, as we come in sight. 
 
 "You fchould give this poor man something," says 
 one of the guides. " He keeps the road in order." I 
 wish you might have seen the orderly road ! 
 
 Suddenly we gain a point where the land spreads out 
 into green knolls before us and on either side — a strip 
 of almost level verdure, with, on one hand, peak on 
 peak, rising till they touch heaven ; upon the other, the 
 Jung Frau, draped in snow. It seems so near, so very 
 near, — though the land drops between us and it into a 
 deep ravine, and the snow-clad peaks and needles are 
 a mile away, — I almost thought I might guide my horse 
 to the verge of the chasm, and reaching out, gather the 
 snow in my hand. Across the summit, the clouds, 
 white as itself, drifted constantly, hiding it completely 
 at times. It had been a tiresome climb of two hours 
 and a half, and we were glad to rest an hour before de- 
 scending. As we turned the corner of the Jung Frau 
 inn, having dismounted from our horses, we were met 
 by our ubiquitous, stout friends of Lake Leman memo- 
 ry, to whom, I presume, we seemed equally omnipresent. 
 Table d'hote was served here, one party following 
 another, until the long table was' full. Occasionally the 
 noise of an avalanche, like the sound of distant thunder, 
 aroused and startled us, and caused us to vacate every 
 seat. But though the mountain appeared to be so near, 
 these avalanches, which sweep with tremendous force, 
 carrying tons of ice and snow, seen from this distance. 
 
216 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 seemed like nothing more than tiny mountain streams 
 let loose. 
 
 From the inn, we mounted and went on half a mile, 
 before reaching the summit and beginning the un- 
 comfortable descent. We thought every bad place 
 must be the worst, as the horses slid down the slippery 
 stones, or descended the log steps with a peculiar jerky 
 motion, suggesting imminent and unpleasant possi- 
 bilities. But, after fording torrents swollen by the 
 rain, crossing narrow, treacherous bridges, sliding down 
 inclined planes, and whole flights of stairs, the guides 
 informed us that we should reach a dangerous place 
 presently ! 
 
 When, finally, we came to it, we were quite willing to 
 dismount, and make our way down over the rocks for a 
 mile, trusting to our own feet, and beset continually by 
 women and children, who appeared most unexpectedly 
 at every turn, to thrust little baskets of fruit or flowers 
 into our hands. The very youngest child toddled after 
 us with a withered field-flower, if nothing more. So 
 early do they begin to learn the trade of a lifetime. 
 
 We entered Grindelwald late in the afternoon. The 
 shadows of night, which fall earlier in these valleys 
 than elsewhere, were already gathering. The few, scat- 
 tered cottages, walled in by the everlasting hills, with 
 the snow-covered Wetterhorn in full view, and the 
 glacier behind it, wore a cheerless and gloomy air in 
 the quick-coming twilight. Train after train of tour- 
 ists, upon horses and mules, or dragging weary feet, 
 descended from among the mountains, to find carriages 
 here and hasten away. Only these arrivals and depart- 
 ures gave a momentry life to the spot. What must 
 
LAST DAl r S IN SWITZERLAND. 217 
 
 it be when the summer sun and the last visitor have 
 left it ? 
 
 We, too, sought out our waiting carriage, and rolled 
 away in the summer twilight, down the beautiful road, 
 wide and smooth enough to lead to more dreadful 
 places than the pleasant valley of Interlaken, where, 
 for a day at least, was our home. 
 
 The next afternoon, instead of spending the Sab- 
 bath here, we decided to go on to Giessbach, on the 
 Lake of Brienz, to visit the celebrated falls. We had 
 rested comfortably in the hope of a quiet day in the 
 little chalet, where more permanent arrangements had 
 been made for our disposal. But the enterprising 
 member of the party, to whom we owed not a little, in 
 a happy moment of leisure, gave herself to the study 
 of the guide-book, the result of which was — Giessbach. 
 We gathered our personal effects together, under the 
 pressure of great excitement and limited time, reached 
 the little steamer, fairly breathless, and then sat and 
 waited half an hour for it to move. It was not, how- 
 ever, a tedious time; for there occurred an incident 
 which engaged our attention. 
 
 " What do you suppose they're going to do with 
 that calf?" asked the boy of the party, who, like all 
 boys, was of an inquiring turn of mind. "They've 
 got him into the water, and are poking him with 
 sticks." 
 
 Upon this we all became immensely interested. A 
 calf had fallen into the water, between the pier and the 
 steamer ; but the fruitless efforts made by everybody, 
 interested or disinterested, were to rescue, not drown, 
 the creature, as a bystander would have inferred, Sud- 
 
218 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 denly, as his own struggles carried him away from the 
 wharf, and he was about to sink, a white, delicate hand, 
 bound with rings, and an arm daintily draped, were 
 thrust out from one of the cabin windows, seized upon 
 the head disappearing in a final bob, and held on until 
 assistance came, when the poor animal, half dead with 
 fright, was drawn from the water. 
 
 At last the steamer moved away from the wharf, and 
 in an hour or less the little pier at Giessbach received 
 us. There is a tiny valley, one hotel, and a series of 
 pretty cascades here. But all these are reached by a 
 smooth road, winding back upon itself continually, and 
 so steep that carriages do not ascend it. You must 
 walk, or rather climb it, for twenty minutes, or accept 
 the disagreeable alternative of being carried up by two 
 men in a chair, resting on poles. The day was warm ; 
 our arms were weighed down with satchels, &c. ; but 
 we pressed on, while, commenting upon our personal pe- 
 culiarities in dress, gait, and general air, as they looked 
 down upon us from the height we almost despaired of 
 gaining, were the complacent, comfortable souls, who 
 always reach these desirable places the day before any 
 one else, and, in the freshest possible toilets, sit, like 
 Mordecai, in the gates. 
 
 It may have been droll to them; it was a most seri- 
 ous matter to us. It was Saturday afternoon, and each 
 one felt and acted upon the realized necessity of 
 outstripping his neighbor, in order to secure rooms. 
 Finally the gentlemen hastened on, our ambition failing 
 with our strength, and we were happy in finding com- 
 fortable quarters awaiting us when we had gained the 
 hotel at last. 
 
LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 219 
 
 It was the most delightful little nook imaginable 
 when we were rested and' refreshed. Until then it 
 possessed no charms in our eyes. It is a little valley, 
 high above the lake, towards which it opens, but shut 
 in on three sides by precipitous hills. Down the face 
 of one the cascades fall. Back against another the 
 hotel is built, facing the lake ; its dependance, and the 
 inevitable shops for the sale of Swiss wood-carving and 
 crystals, being ranged along the third side. The whole 
 place is not larger than a flower-garden of moderate 
 size. 
 
 We were served at our meals by pretty, red-cheeked 
 girls, in charming Swiss costumes; and when we had 
 been out after dark to see the falls illuminated in dif- 
 ferent colors, while the rustic bridges, which span the 
 cascades at various heights, were crossed by these 
 picturesque figure.?, I felt as if we were all part of a 
 travelling show, for whom this dear little level spot 
 was the stage, and that a vast audience waited outside, 
 where the walls of hills opened upon the lake, for the 
 curtain to fall. It was like the Happy Valley of Ras- 
 selas, which we left with regret when the peaceful 
 Sabbath was over. 
 
 Across the lake, at Brienz, Monday morning, a car- 
 riage waited to bear us on, over the Brunig Pass, into 
 the clouds and out again; then down, down, past vil- 
 lage, and lake, and towering hills, resting again at 
 Sarnen, then on to Lucerne, into which we swept, with 
 tinkling bells and cracking whip, to find the city gay 
 with streaming flags and flowery arches, erected for 
 some singing fete, but which to us were all signs of a 
 happy welcoming. 
 
220 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 
 
 Coming home. — The breaking up of the party. — We start 
 for Paris alone. — Basle, and a search for a hotel. — The twi- 
 light ride. — The shopkeeper whose wits had gone "a 
 wool-gathering." — " Two tickets for Paris." — What can be 
 the matter now ? — Michel Angelo's Moses. — Paris at mid- 
 night. — The kind commissionaire. — The good French gen- 
 tleman, and his fussy little wife. — A search for Miss II. 's. — 
 " Come up, come up." — " Can women travel through Eu- 
 rope alone ? ". — A word about a woman's outfit. 
 
 10 dash through the town, along the quay where 
 we had walked so many times beneath the trees 
 or leaning over the low parapet fed the fishes, past 
 the two-spired cathedral, the cloisters of which had 
 become so familiar, to mount the hill and draw up be- 
 fore the door of the Bellevue again, welcomed by the 
 innkeeper, and greeted with outstretched hands by 
 " Charles," who had served our chocolate, while familiar 
 faces met us at every window or upon the stairs, to pull 
 up the shutters, throw wide open the windows, and 
 drink in the glorious beauty of the scene before our eyes 
 — all this was delightful, but fleeting, like all earthly 
 joys, and mixed with pain ; for here we were to say 
 "good by." 
 
 Our pleasant party was to break up. The friends 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 221 
 
 in whose care we had been so long, were off for 
 Germany, and Mrs. K. and I must turn our faces 
 towards home. We were to renew our early and 
 brief experience in travelling alone. It had been as 
 limited as our French, which consisted principally 
 of " Est-ce que vous avez f " followed by a panto- 
 mimic display that would have done credit to a pro- 
 fessional, and " Quel est le prix f " succeeded by the 
 blankest amazement, since we could seldom, if ever, 
 understand a reply. 
 
 " Are you afraid ? " queried our friends. 
 
 "No ; O, no." The state of our minds transcended fear. 
 
 It was a hot day when we took our last view of the 
 lake, as we rode down the hill from the hotel, past the 
 cathedral, past the shaded promenade upon the quay, 
 to the station ; but we heeded neither the heat nor the 
 Landscape when we were once in the train and on the 
 way. Our hearts were heavy with grief at parting 
 from friends, our spirits weighed down by nameless 
 fears. It was a wicked world, we suddenly remem- 
 bered. Wolves in sheep's clothing doubtless awaited 
 us at every turn, Roaring lions guarded every station. 
 We clutched our travelling-bags, umbrellas, and wraps, 
 with a grasp only attained by grim fate or lone women. 
 Gradually, however, as the uneventful hours wore 
 away, we forgot that in eternal vigilance lay our safety, 
 and relaxed our hold. 
 
 We had left Lucerne at noon; at five o'clock we 
 reached Basle. Here we were to spend the night at 
 the hotel Les Trois Hois. Every step of the way to 
 Paris had been made plain to us by our kind friends. 
 
 "Let me see; the hotel is close by the station?" 
 
222 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 queried Mrs. K., when we had left our trunks, as our 
 friends had advised, and followed the crowd to the 
 sidewalk. 
 
 "Yes," I replied with assurance, "close by, they 
 said ; I am sure." 
 
 Accordingly we turned away from the long line of 
 hotel omnibuses backed up against the curb-stone, to 
 the fine hotels on each side of the straight avenue, ex- 
 tending as far as the eye could see. Alas ! among their 
 blazing names was no " Trots Hois." We read them 
 over and over again. We even tried to pronounce 
 them. Not a king was there, to say nothing of three. 
 
 In a kind of bewilderment we strayed down the 
 avenue. Might not some one of the fair dwellings 
 gleaming out from the shrubbery prove the house we 
 sought? There was a rattle and clatter behind us; a 
 passing omnibus. Another, and still another followed. 
 Serene faces beamed out upon our perplexity. A cloud 
 of dust enveloped us as the last rolled cheerfully by, 
 upon the end of which we read, with staring eyes, 
 " Les Trois Hois." 
 
 " Ah ! " gasped Mrs. K. 
 
 " Sure enough," I replied. 
 
 " Why, suppose we take it ? " said she, slowly. 
 
 " Suppose we do," I assented, with equal deliber- 
 ation. But by this time the little red omnibus was a 
 speck in the distance. 
 
 " At least we can follow it." And we quickened our 
 steps, when, with almost human perversity, it turned a 
 distant corner, and vanished from sight. 
 
 Fixing our eyes steadily upon the point of disap- 
 pearance, we hastened on, and on, and on ! I have a 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 223 
 
 flint recollection of green trees, of stately houses, of 
 an immense fountain swaying its white arms in the 
 distance — mirage-like, for we never approached it; 
 of the sun pouring its fierce rays upon us as we toiled 
 on, with our wraps and satchels turning to lead in our 
 arms. 
 
 We readied the corner at last. There was no omni- 
 bus ; no hotel in sight ; only the meeting of half a 
 dozen narrow, crooked streets, crowded with carriages, 
 and alive with humanity. All settled purpose left us 
 then ; our wits, never very firmly attached, followed. 
 We became completely demoralized. 
 
 " Suppose you inquire," suggested Mrs. K., after a 
 period of inaction, during which we were pushed, and 
 jostled, and trampled under foot by the crowd. 
 
 If I possessed one capability above another, it w r as 
 that of asking questions, especially in a strange lan- 
 guage. Upon this corner where we were standing, 
 rose an imposing building, in the open doorway of 
 which stood a portly gentleman, with a countenance 
 like the setting sun, in glow and warmth. A heavy 
 mane flowed over his shoulders. Evidently this was 
 the first of the roaring lions ! Taking our lives in our 
 hands, we approached him. 
 
 "Do you speak English ?" I ventured. 
 
 " New" was his reply, with a shrug of the leonine 
 shoulders. 
 
 I drew a long breath and began again. 
 
 " Parlez-vous Francais f " 
 
 His reply to this was as singular as unprecedented. 
 He turned his back and disappeared up the wide stairs 
 in the rear. 
 
224 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 " This may be foreign politeness," I was beginning, 
 doubtfully, when he reappeared, accompanied by an 
 intensified counterpart of himself. The setting sun in 
 the face of this man gave promise of a scorching day. 
 
 " Parlez-vous Frangais, monsieur? " I began again, 
 when we had bowed and " bon-jour "-ed for some time. 
 
 " Oui, oui, mademoiselle." 
 
 Here was an unexpected dilemma. A terrible pause 
 ensued. Then, with an effort which in some minds 
 would have produced a poem at least, I attempted to 
 make known the object of our quest. I carMiot begin 
 to tell of the facial contortions which accompanied this 
 sentence, nor of the ineffable peace which followed its 
 conclusion. It made no manner of difference that his 
 reply was a jargon of unintelligible sounds. Virtue is 
 its own reward. One sentence alone I caught, as the 
 indistinguishable tones flew by. We were to take the 
 first street, and then turn to the right. 
 
 " What did he say ? " asked Mrs. K., when we had 
 merci-d ourselves out of their radiant presences. 
 
 I explained the direction we were to follow. 
 
 "Horrible countenance he had," she remarked, as 
 we pursued our way. 
 
 " O, dreadful," I assented. 
 
 " Nobody knows where he may send us," she con- 
 tinued. 
 
 Sure enough ! In our alarm we stopped short in the 
 street, and stared at each other with horrified counte- 
 nances. 
 
 " I have heard — " I began. 
 
 " Yes ; and so have I," she went on, shaking her 
 head, and expressing by that gesture most fearful pos- 
 sibilities. 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 225 
 
 A bright thought seized me. " He told us to turn 
 to the right; we will turn to the left ! " And with 
 that happy, womanly instinct, said to transcend all 
 judgment, we did. Strange as it may appear, though 
 we went on for a long half hour, no " Trois Hois " 
 gladdened our eyes. 
 
 Suddenly Mrs. K. struck an attitude. " A fine ap- 
 pearance we shall present," said she; " two lone women, 
 dusty and heated, our arms full of baggage, straggling 
 up to a hotel two mortal hours after the arrival of the 
 train. We'll take a carriage." 
 
 To me this inglorious advent was so distant in pros- 
 pect that it held no terrors, nothing of mortification 
 even. " Les Trois Hois " had become a myth, an idea 
 towards which we vainly struggled. 
 
 " If it were only across the street," she went on, 
 rising to the occasion and warming with the subject, 
 " we would go in a carriage." 
 
 One approached at that moment. We motioned to 
 it a la Mandarin, with our heads, our hands and arms 
 being full. The driver raised his whip and pointed 
 solemnly into the distance. We turned to gaze, see- 
 ing nothing but the heavens in that direction. When 
 we looked back, he was o;one. We should not like to 
 airirm — we hardly dare suggest — we are sure of 
 nothing but that he vanished from before our eyes. 
 
 A second appeared in the distance. We began in 
 time. We pawed the air wildly with our umbrellas. 
 The very satchels and wraps upon our arms nodded 
 and beckoned. In serene unconsciousness the driver 
 held to his course. 
 
 " Well ! " I exclaimed, indignantly. 
 
226 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 ^ I should think so," added Mrs. K., with emphasis. 
 "Is there anything peculiar, anything unusual in our 
 personal appearanee ? " I asked, glancing down upon 
 our dusty appointments. As we concentrated oar 
 energies and belongings for one final effort, a benignant 
 countenance smiled out upon us from above a cipher. 
 We were storming a private carriage ! 
 
 The third attempt was more successful. The driver 
 paused. We requested him, in English, to take us to 
 " The Three Kings." He only stared and shook his 
 head. "We tried him with " Les Trois Mois? He 
 seemed still more mystified. 
 
 "What can be done with people who do not under- 
 stand their own language! " I exclaimed in despair. 
 
 We tried it again with our purest Parisian accent. 
 An inkling of our meaning pierced his dull understand- 
 ing. He rolled heavily down from his seat, and opened 
 the door with the usual " Out, ouV We entered and 
 were driven away. 
 
 " Do you think he understood you ? " queried Mrs. K. 
 " No-o." 
 
 " Well, where do you suppose he will take us ? " 
 " I don't know, and I don't much care," I responded, 
 in desperation. 
 
 We settled back upon the cushions. The peace that 
 follows resignation possessed our souls. O, the luxury 
 of that jolting, rattling ride, as we wound in and out 
 among the tortuous streets ! A full half hour passed 
 before the dusky old hotel darkened above us, sur- 
 mounted by "The Three Kings" arrayed in Eastern 
 magnificence, and wearing gilded crowns upon their 
 heads. 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 227 
 
 Fate had been propitious. This was our destination, 
 without doubt, though we had made a grand mistake 
 as to its location. We descended at the entrance with 
 the air, I trust, of being equal to the occasion. We 
 calmly surveyed the assembled porters, who hastened 
 to seize our satchels and wraps. We demanded a room, 
 and inquired the hour of table d'hote, as though we 
 had done the same thing a thousand times before. 
 Mrs. K. was right; there was a moral support in that 
 blessed carriage. 
 
 Table d'hote over, we strayed into a pretty salon 
 opening from the salle a manger. Both were crowded 
 — over doors and windows, and within cabinets filling 
 every niche and corner — with quaint specimens of 
 pottery — pitchers, vases, and jars, ancient enough 
 in appearance to have graced the domestic establish- 
 ment of the original "Three Kings." The glass doors 
 thrown back enticed us upon a long, low balcony, al- 
 most swept by the rushing river below — the beautiful 
 Rhine hastening on to its hills and vineyards. We 
 leaned over, smitten with sudden homesickness, and 
 sent a message back to Rolandseck of happy memory. 
 
 With the faint shadows of corning twilight we 
 wandered out into the square before the hotel. A line 
 of voitures extended down one side, every one of 
 which was quickened into life at our approach. We 
 paused, with foot upon the step of the first, for the 
 carte always proffered, upon which, is the number of 
 the driver and the established rate of fares. He only 
 touched his shiny hat and prepared to gather up his 
 reins. 
 
 "O, dear! " we said ; "this will never do ; we must 
 
228 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 not go." And we stepped down. The porters upon the 
 hotel steps began to cast inquiring glances. One or two 
 stray passers added their mite of curiosity, when the 
 knight-errant, who always breaks a lance for distressed 
 womanhood, appeared upon the scene. We recognized 
 him at once, though his armor was only a suit of gray 
 tweed, and he wore a fashionable round-topped hat for 
 a casque. 
 
 Almost before we knew it, we were seated in the 
 carriage, the carte in our hands, and were slowly crawl- 
 ing out of the square — for a subdued snail-pace is 
 the highest point of speed attained by these public 
 vehicles. 
 
 The memory of Basle is as shadowy, dim, delightful, 
 as was that twilight ride. Where we were going, we 
 neither knew nor cared ; nor, later, where we had been. 
 We wound in and out the close streets of the old part 
 of the city, full of a busy life so far removed from our 
 own, that it seemed a show, a picture; below the 
 surface we could not penetrate. We rolled along wide 
 avenues where the houses on either side were white as 
 the dust under the wheels. Once in a quiet square, 
 we paused before an old Hotel de Vitle, frescoed in 
 warm, rich colors. Again upon the outskirts of the 
 city, before a monument; but whether it had been 
 erected to hero or saint I cannot now recall. And 
 somewhere, when the dusk was deepening, w T e found 
 an old church, gray as the shadows enveloping it, with 
 a horseman, spear in hand, cut in has relief upon one 
 side. What dragon he made tilt against in the dark- 
 ness we never knew. 
 
 Even our driver seemed to warm beneath the infln- 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 229 
 
 ences which subdued and dissipated our cares. He 
 nodded gently and complacently to acquaintances, 
 eliciting greetings in return, in which we, in a measure, 
 shared. He hummed a guttural, though cheerful song, 
 which found an echo in our hearts. He stood up in 
 his place to point the way to misguided strangers, in 
 whose perplexities we could so well sympathize. And 
 once, having laid down the reins, and paused in our 
 slow advance, he held a long and seemingly enjoyable 
 conversation with a passing friend. To all this we 
 made no manner of objection, rather we entered into 
 the spirit of the hour, and were filled with a com- 
 placency which was hastily banished upon our return to 
 the hotel, where, as we put into the hand of our benev- 
 olent driver his due, and the generous pour boire which 
 gave always such a twinge to our temperance principles, 
 he demanded more. 
 
 "He claims," said the porter, who was assisting our 
 descent, " that he has been driving with the carriage 
 lamps lighted. There is an extra charge for that." 
 
 " But he left his seat to light them this moment, 
 just before we turned into the square," we replied, 
 indignantly. 
 
 The porter shrugged his shoulders. That is the end 
 of an argument. There is never anything more to be 
 said. We submitted at once, though our faith in 
 benevolent humanity went to the winds. 
 
 Somewhat dispirited, we climbed the stairs to our 
 room. "One day more," we said, "and our troubles 
 will be at an end." But, alas ! one day was as a thou- 
 sand years ! 
 
 It was to be an all-day's ride to Paris, from nine 
 
230 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 o'clock in the morning until half past nine or ten at 
 night. So, while waiting for breakfast, we hastened 
 out into the town, in search of a bookstore, and some- 
 thing to while away the dull hours before us. 
 
 A young man, of preternaturally serious counte- 
 nance, was removing the shutters as we entered a 
 musty little shop. We turned over the Tauchnitz's 
 editions of English novels until we had made a choice, 
 the value of our purchases amounting to four or five 
 francs, and gave him a napoleon. With profuse 
 apologies he left us to get it changed. Returning 
 presently, he threw the silver into a drawer, and hand- 
 ed the books to us, with a "Merci." 
 
 "Yes," we said; "but — " Arithmetic had never 
 been my strength ; still something was clearly wrong 
 here. 
 
 " The change," said Mrs. K. " He has given us no 
 change." Sure enough; but still he continued to bow 
 and thank us, evidently expecting us to go. 
 
 We tried to explain; eliciting only one of the 
 blank stares that usually followed our attempts at 
 explanation. 
 
 " The man must be an idiot," Mrs. K. said, gravely. 
 
 " He certainly has an imbecile expression of counte- 
 nance," I assented. He stood still, bowing at intervals, 
 while we calmly weighed and balanced his wits before 
 his eyes. We tried signs ; having through much 
 practice developed a system to which the deaf and 
 dumb alphabet is as nothing. We attempted to con- 
 vince him that a part of the money was ours. 
 
 He smiled, and assured us, in a similar way, that the 
 books belonged to us, the money to him. 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 231 
 
 There was so much justice in this, that we should 
 doubtless have assented, had not his own wits finally 
 asserted themselves. Blushing like a bashful boy, he 
 suddenly exclaimed, counted out the change, and 
 poured it into our hands with so many apologies, that 
 we were glad to retreat. 
 
 It was a discouraging beginning for the new day. 
 Still we would not despair. We had assured our anx- 
 ious friends that we were quite able to take care of 
 ourselves. We would triumphantly prove our own 
 words. Breakfast over, and our bill settled without 
 mishap or misunderstanding, we started for the station 
 in the hotel omnibus, in company with a stout, genial 
 Frenchman, who spoke a little English, and his fussy 
 little wife. When we entered the station, the line 
 formed before the ticket-window was already formida- 
 ble. It lacked fifteen minutes of the hour when the 
 train would start, and our baggage was — where? We 
 seized a commissionaire, slipped a piece of money into 
 his hand in a very bungling, shamefaced way, and, 
 presto! in a moment our trunks appeared among the 
 other baggage, though we had looked in vain for them 
 before. Then, with a sensation of self-consciousness 
 approaching guilt, I stepped to the foot of the line 
 before the ticket-window. 
 
 "Two tickets for Paris," I gasped, finding myself, 
 after a time, brought face to face with the sharp-eyed 
 official. "What is the price?" But before I could 
 utter the words, the reply rattled through my head 
 like a discharge of grape-shot. Every finger resolved 
 itself into ten, as I essayed to open my purse and count 
 out the gold pieces. What should I do ! I had not 
 
232 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 enough into ten francs ; it might as well have been ten 
 thousand ! Mrs. K. was waiting at a little distance ; 
 but the place once lost in the line could not be re- 
 gained, and there was our baggage yet to be weighed, 
 and the hands of the clock frightfully near the hour of 
 departure. There was an impatient stamping of feet 
 behind me, as I stood for a moment dizzy, bewildered, 
 with an angry buzz of voices ringing with the din and 
 roar in my ears. Then I rushed down the room to 
 Mrs. K., and explained as hastily as possible. She 
 filled my purse, and I flew back to find the line pushed 
 forward and my place gone. One glance at the hands 
 of the clock, at the discouraging line of ticket-seekers 
 yet to be served, — how could I go to the foot again ! 
 Then I walked straight to the window with the cour- 
 age of despair. A low growl ran down the line, the 
 gendarme on guard stepped forward, expostulating 
 excitedly; but, blessings on the man at the head of 
 the line, who pushed the others back, and gave me a 
 place, and even upon the grim official behind the 
 window, who smiled encouragement, and gave me 
 the tickets, while the gendarme stormed. I stepped 
 out again, conscious only of the wish — strong as a 
 prayer — that we were safe again in Lucerne, or — some 
 other place of peaceful rest. 
 
 Wedged in among the crowd, we saw one trunk 
 after another weighed and removed, while ours re- 
 mained untouched. I pulled the sleeve of a porter. 
 My hand held my purse. The suggestion was enough. 
 In a moment our trunks were weighed, and the little 
 paper ticket corresponding to our "check" safe in our 
 possession. I turned, conscientiously, to reward the 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 233 
 
 porter; but we were jostled by a score of elbows, each 
 encased in the sleeve of' a blue blouse. Which was 
 the one I sought? I could not tell. Each answered 
 my glance of puzzled inquiry with one of expectation. 
 Diving to the depths of my purse, I found it to contain 
 one solitary centime — nothing more. I slipped it into 
 the hand nearest, and from the start of surprise and 
 delight was immediately convinced that it was the 
 wrong man. However, it did not matter. There was 
 no time to explain. The doors opening upon the plat- 
 form, which remain locked until the last moment, 
 were thrown open, and we hurried away, found places 
 upon the train, and sank back upon the cushions ex- 
 hausted, but happy. For ten hours at least, nothing 
 could happen to us. The guard passed the window, 
 examining the tickets, and slamming the doors, making 
 our safety doubly sure. A moment moie, and with a 
 noiseless motion we were off. Hardly had the train 
 started before it stopped again. One after another 
 our companions left us — for we were not alone in the 
 compartment. " Strange," we said, yet too thoroughly 
 exhausted to be curious. It was still more strange 
 when, after a short time, they each and all returned. 
 They began to whisper among themselves, pointing to 
 us. "What can be the matter now?" we queried, 
 suddenly mindful that life is a warfare, and roused to 
 interest. 
 
 Our fellow-travellers proceeded to enlighten us in 
 chorus, and in the confusion of the outburst, we caught 
 — by inspiration — at their meaning. We had crossed 
 the frontier into France, and the baggage was ex- 
 amined here. We hastened out and into the station. 
 
234 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 All the trunks but our own had been checked. With 
 his hand upon one of these, an official demanded the 
 key, upon our appearance. Remembering an episode in 
 its packing, we demurred, and proffered the key of 
 another. Already vexed by the delay, his suspicions 
 were roused now. He demanded the key of the first, 
 which we gave up with wicked delight. The by-stand- 
 ers drew near. Indeed, a crowd was the embarrassing 
 accompaniment to all our unfortunate experiences. 
 The official turned the key with the air of doing his 
 duty if he perished in the attempt, when the lid flew 
 open, and a hoop-skirt, compressed to the final degree, 
 sprang up into his startled face, like a Jack-in-the-box. 
 The spectators laughed — French though they were — 
 as, very red in the face, he vainly tried to replace it, 
 entirely forgetting to search for contraband articles. 
 
 No other incident disturbed the quiet of that long 
 day's ride to Paris. At some queer little station we 
 descended to lunch, and returned to our places, laden, 
 like the spies of Eschol, with luscious grapes. Our 
 fellow-travellers dropped out along the way, only, how- 
 ever, to be replaced by others. We had not succeeded 
 in securing places in the compartment reserved for 
 ladies alone ; but the French gentlemen who were our 
 companions proved most courteous in their polite indif- 
 ference to our movements. An old gentleman among 
 these, elicited our outspoken admiration for his grand 
 head. We were secure in our native language, we 
 knew. 
 
 u Lovely face ! " we exclaimed, unblushingly. " What 
 a head for a sculptor! Quite like Michel Angelo's 
 Moses, I declare." 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 235 
 
 Before the day was over, "Michel Angelo's Moses" 
 addressed us in excellent English. 
 
 When the darkness gathered, when the night settled 
 down, something of its gloom oppressed us. Once 
 safely housed in Paris, we should be at rest ; but there 
 were still difficulties to be overcome. Our friends had 
 telegraphed to Miss H. that we should arrive by this 
 train ; but the number of her house Ave did not know, 
 nor did they. We were only sure that her apartments 
 were over the Magasin cm Printemps. Still that 
 was tolerably exact ; we would not be uneasy. At ten 
 o'clock at night we stepped down from the train into 
 a confusion of tongues and elbows which I cannot 
 describe, and followed the crowd into the baggage- 
 room. I say followed — we were literally lifted from 
 our feet and borne along. There was no baggage in 
 sight. We waited until an hour seemed to have 
 passed, and still no trunks appeared. 
 
 " Suppose we leave them, and send a porter from 
 the house in the morning to find them;" and acting 
 upon this, we struggled out of the station into the 
 great paved square at one side. The night was dark ; 
 but the gas-lights dimly lighted up aline of carriages at 
 the farther side, towards which we hastened, and had 
 seated ourselves in one, when a" commissionaire came 
 running across the square, and putting his head in at 
 the carriage window, asked if we had any baggage. 
 
 " Yes," we replied ; but the rattling words that fol- 
 lowed brought only confusion to us. Our minds, already 
 overtaxed, gave way at once. It is pleasant to recall 
 the patience and good-nature of that official. It is 
 pleasant, when old things have so entirely passed away, 
 
236 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 to remember the Paris of 1869 as, at least, a city into 
 which women might come at midnight, alone, unpro- 
 tected, and be not only free from insult and imposition, 
 but actually cared for, and sent to their rightful 
 destination, in spite of their own ignorance and in- 
 competence. 
 
 " Stay here," said our friend in uniform ; and he dis- 
 appeared, to return in a moment with the stout French 
 gentleman who had been our companion in the hotel 
 omnibus at Basle. We met with mutual surprise, and 
 pleasure on our side at least. 
 
 " Do any one look for your baggage?" he asked. 
 
 " No," we replied. " We thought we might leave it." 
 
 " You must go " he said. 
 
 The commissionaire took possession of our check 
 and the driver's carte, and I followed the two back to 
 the station, leaving Mrs. K. to guard our satchels, &c, 
 in the carriage. 
 
 " Wait one leetle moment," said the kind French 
 gentleman ; " I bring madame." And in a moment he 
 dragged the fussy little woman from the crowd, hand- 
 ing her over w T ith the triumphant air of having now 
 settled all difficulties. 
 
 "Madame speak ze Eengleesh fine," he said. 
 
 Looking down from an immeasurable height, the little 
 madam condescended to remark that their servant was 
 looking for their baggage. 
 
 " Ah ! " I responded. " Then we are not permitted 
 to leave our trunks." 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," she replied, looking so 
 greatly bored, not to say exhausted, that I did not 
 think it best to press the matter. " Our servant is 
 attending to it," she repeated. 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 237 
 
 Her husband's face fairly glowed with satisfaction 
 while this side conversation was being carried on. 
 Evidently he believed the whole French baggage sys- 
 tem to have been elucidated for my benefit. I thanked 
 him heartily, as we exchanged cordial adieus. Even 
 the fussy Utile woman gathered, for the moment, suf- 
 ficient life to attempt to bow ; which, alas ! never got 
 beyond a stare. The commissionaire seized upon a 
 blue-bloused porter, and gave me to him with the 
 check, the carle, and a few sharply-spoken directions. 
 Clinging to that blue sleeve, I was borne through the 
 swaying, surging mass of humanity, into the bag- 
 gage-room — how, I never knew. Our trunks Mere 
 identified, lilted, not thrown, by my porter upon a 
 hand-truck, which dragged for itself and us an opening 
 in the crowd. Once out upon the platform, the porter 
 pushed doggedly on into the darkness, though I had 
 left Mrs. K. and the carriage in the square at one side. 
 I expostulated. He held persistently to his course. I 
 gave one thought to poor Mrs. K., resigned to what 
 fate I knew not, and then, woman-like, followed my 
 trunks. 
 
 It was all explained, when, dimly outlined in the 
 darkness before the station, we espied a sea of shiny 
 hats and shadowy cabs ; and when, after long shouting 
 of the number of our own, by the porter and every- 
 body else, it finally crawled up to the steps where we 
 were standing, Mrs. K.'s anxious face looking out of 
 the window. 
 
 " I began to think you were lost," she said. " You 
 can fancy my feelings when the driver gathered up 
 the reins and drove out of that square." 
 
288 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 We made a thank-offering upon the palm of e very- 
 grimy hand, suddenly outstretched ; then the driver 
 paused, whip in the air, for the address of our des- 
 tination. 
 
 "Magasin au Printemps, Boulevard Haussman." 
 He stared, as everybody had, and did, along the way. 
 If they only wouldn't ! We repeated it. He con- 
 ferred, in a low tone, with the man on the next box, 
 who got down from his place, and came around to our 
 window to look at us. One or two lounging porters 
 joined him. The Ma-gas in au Printemps is a large 
 dry and fancy goods establishment, which had been 
 closed, of course, for hours, since it was now nearly 
 midnight. It was as though we had reached New 
 York late at night, and insisted upon being driven to 
 Steumri's. The little crowd stared at us solemnly, in 
 a kind of pitiful curiosity, I fancied. I think, by this 
 time, our countenances may have expressed incipient 
 idiocy. We attempted to explain that Miss H.'s 
 apartments were over the Magasin, and the driver 
 mounted to his seat, though, I am obliged to confess, 
 with an ominous shake of his head. 
 
 As we rolled out into the wide boulevards our spirits 
 rose. The sidewalks were crowded with promena- 
 ders, the streets with carriages. The light of a 
 glorious day seemed to have burst upon our dazzled 
 eyes. Paris, gay, beautiful Paris, which never sleeps, 
 was out, disporting herself. 
 
 " We will not be anxious," we said ; nor were we in 
 the least. " Even if we cannot find Miss H.'s, some 
 hotel will take us in. Or, failing in that, we can drive 
 about until morning." 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 239 
 
 A thought of our respective and respectable families 
 diil cross our minds with this lawless suggestion. In 
 happy unconsciousness, they believed us still safe with 
 our friends. 
 
 We crawled up the Boulevard Haussman. There 
 were the closed doors and shutters of the Magasin au 
 Printemps. Two or three other doors met our gaze. 
 The driver paused before one. We descended, and 
 pulled the bell. You must know there are no door- 
 steps, in Paris, leading to front doors, as with us. The 
 first floor is, almost without exception, given up to 
 shops; and dwellings, unless pretentious enough to 
 be houses enclosing a court-yard and entered from 
 the street by passing through great gates, are simply 
 apartments in the two, three, and four stories above 
 these shops. 
 
 Some invisible mechanism swung back the great 
 double doors as we pulled the bell, disclosing a pretty, 
 paved court-yard, with a fountain in the centre, sur- 
 rounded by pots of flowers. A glass door at one side, 
 revealed wide marble stairs, down which a charming 
 little portress was tripping. 
 
 "Is this Miss H.'s?" we asked in English. She 
 only shook her head. We paraded our French. She 
 seemed lost in thought for a moment, then, with a 
 " Out, Old" ran past us to the carriage, and gave some 
 directions to the driver, emphasizing her words with a 
 pair of plump little hands. Then, with a "bo?i nuit" 
 she disappeared, and the great doors closed again. 
 Evidently we were being taken care of, we thought, 
 as we settled back again in the carriage. We stopped 
 before another door, already open, and disclosing a 
 
240 AJV AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 
 
 flight of wide, stone stairs, ascending almost from the 
 sidewalk. Immediately upon pulling the bell — as 
 though the wire had been attached to it — a long, loose- 
 jointed, grotesque, yet horrible figure appeared at the 
 head of the stairs, half-stooping to bring himself within 
 the range of my vision, swinging his arms like a Dutch 
 windmill, and grinning in a way which seemed to open 
 his whole head. 
 
 " Is — is this Miss H.'s ? " I ventured from the side- 
 walk. 
 
 He only beckoned still more wildly for me to ascend. 
 I drew back. Good Heavens! What was the matter 
 with him ? And still, while I stared fascinated, yet 
 horror-stricken, he continued, without intermission, 
 these speechless contortions and evolutions. Although 
 he uttered not a sound, he seemed to say with every 
 cracking joint, " Come up, come up," while he scooped 
 the air with his bony hands. 
 
 I remembered that it was midnight ; that we were 
 alone, and in wicked Paris ; that we had been reli- 
 giously brought up ; that Mrs. K.'s husband was the 
 superintendent of a large and flourishing Sunday 
 school ; that my father was a minister of the gospel. 
 I planted my feet firmly upon the sidewalk. I folded 
 my arms rigidly. I shook my head virtuously. Come 
 up ? Chains should not drag me. Then I turned to 
 the carriage. 
 
 " Mrs. K., do come and see this man." 
 
 She came. Together we stared at him with rigid 
 and severe countenances. 
 
 " Dreadful ! " said I, remembering the Sunday 
 school. 
 
Together we stared at him with rigid and severe countenances. 
 Page 240. 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 241 
 
 " Awful ! " said she, recalling the pious ancestors. 
 And again we shook our heads at his blandishments to 
 the point of dislocation. The driver, who had been 
 all this time tipped back against a tree, began to show 
 symptoms of impatience. Something must be done. 
 
 " Suppose you ask for some one who can speak Eng- 
 lish," suggested Mrs. K. 
 
 " Sure enough." And I did. With one last, terri- 
 ble grimace the ogre's heels disappeared up the second 
 flight of stairs. 
 
 There came down in a moment a thoroughly re- 
 spectable appearing porter, who informed us, in English, 
 that we were expected, our telegram having been re- 
 ceived ; though, through the ambiguity of its address, 
 it had been sent first to a house below. The people 
 there had promised to forward us, however, in case we 
 followed the telegram. This accounted for the move- 
 ments of the little portress. 
 
 The ogre proved to be a most good-natured conci- 
 erge, who had been instructed to keep the door open in 
 anticipation of our arrival. 
 
 So our fears had been but feathers, after all, blown 
 away by a breath ; our troubles only a dream, to be 
 laughed over in the awakening. 
 
 Here the story of our journeying may end. The 
 remaining distance, through the kindness of friends, 
 new and old, was accomplished without difficulty or 
 annoyance. We reached our own homes in due time, 
 and like the princess in the fairy tales, " lived happily 
 forever afterwards." 
 
 A few practical words suggest themselves here which 
 would pass unnoticed in a preface — where, perhaps, 
 
242 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 they belong. First, in regard to the question often 
 asked, "Can women travel alone through Europe?" 
 Recalling our own experience, — too brief to serve as 
 a criterion, — I should still say, " Tes. n We met, fre- 
 quently, parties of ladies who had made the whole 
 grand tour alone. In Switzerland we found English 
 women, constantly, without escort. The care of choos- 
 ing routes, of looking after baggage and buying tick- 
 ets, of managing the sometimes complicated affairs 
 attendant upon sight-seeing, with the vexations and 
 impositions met with and suffered on every hand, no 
 woman would voluntarily accept without great com- 
 pensation, I am sure. But if she prefers even these 
 cares to seeing nothing of the world, they can be 
 borne, and the annoyances, to a great extent overcome, 
 through patience and growing experience. 
 
 Then, if you start alone, or without being consigned 
 to friends upon the other side, — which no young wo- 
 man would think of doing, — you are almost sure to 
 join, at different times, other parties, whose way is your 
 own ; and far preferable this is to making up a large 
 company before leaving home — the members of which 
 usually disagree before reaching the continent, and 
 often part in mutual disgust. " There is nothing like 
 travelling to bring out a person's real nature," say 
 some. But this is untrue. Travelling develops, 
 rather than reveals, I think, and under conditions 
 favorable only to the worse side of one's nature. You 
 are bewildered by the multitude of strange sights and 
 ways; the very foundation of usages is broken up; 
 you are putting forth physical exertions that would 
 seem superhuman at home, and are mentally racked 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 243 
 
 until utterly exhausted, — for there is nothing so ex- 
 hausting as continued sight-seeing, — and at this point 
 people say they begin " to find each other out." 
 
 An occasional period of rest — not staying within 
 doors to study up the guide-books, but entire cessation 
 from seeing, hearing, or doing — and a scrap from the 
 mantle of charity, will save many a threatened friend- 
 ship at these times. We learned to know our strength 
 — how weak it was; and to await in some delightful 
 sjDot, chosen for the purpose, returning energy, courage, 
 and interest / for even that would be banished at times 
 by utter weariness and exhaustion. 
 
 In former times, Americans fitted themselves out for 
 Europe as though bound to a desert island. Wider 
 intelligence and experience have opened their eyes and 
 reformed their judgment; still, a word upon this sub- 
 ject will not be unwelcome, I am sure, to girls espe- 
 cially, who contemplate a trip over the ocean. 
 
 In the first place, your steamer outfit is a distinct 
 affair. You are allowed to take any baggage you wish 
 for into your state-room ; but, if wise, you will not fill 
 the narrow space, nor encumber yourself with any- 
 thing larger than a lady's hat box, which may offer a 
 tolerable seat to the stewardess, or visitors of condo*- 
 lence, in case seasickness confines you to berth or sofa. 
 Even preferable to this is a flat, English portmanteau, 
 which can be slipped under the lower berth. If you 
 sail for Liverpool, you can leave this at your hotel there 
 in charge of the head waiter until j^ou return, and thus 
 avoid the expense and care of useless baggage. 
 
 Its contents your own good sense will in a measure 
 suggest. Let me add — a double gown or woollen 
 
244 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 
 
 wrapper, in which you may sleep, flannels (even though 
 you cross the ocean in summer), merino stockings, 
 warm gloves or mittens, as pretty a hood as you please, 
 only be sure that it covers the back of your head, 
 since you will ignore all cunning craft of hair dress- 
 ing, for a few days at least, and even after you are 
 well enough to appear at the table, perhaps. Bear in 
 mind that the Northern Atlantic is a cold place, and 
 horribly open to the wind at all seasons of the year ; 
 that you will live on the deck when not in your berth 
 or at your meals, and that the deck of an ocean 
 steamer partakes of the nature of a whirlwind. Fur 
 is by no means out of place, and skirts should be suffi- 
 ciently heavy to defy the gales, which convert every- 
 thing into a sail. Take as many wraps as you choose 
 — and then you will wish you had one more. A large 
 shawl, or, better, a carriage-robe, is indispensable, as 
 you will very likely lie rolled up like a cocoon much 
 of the time. A low sea-chair, or common camp-chair, 
 is useful to older people ; but almost any girl will pre- 
 fer a seat upon the deck itself ; there are comfortable 
 crannies into which no chair can be wedged. 
 
 By all means avoid elaborate fastenings to garments. 
 A multiplicity of unmanageable " hooks and eyes " is 
 untold torment at sea ; and let these garments be few, 
 but warm. You will appreciate the wisdom of this 
 suggestion, when you have accomplished the hercu- 
 lean task of making your first state-room toilet. 
 
 If you are really going abroad for a season of travel^ 
 take almost nothing. You can never know what you 
 will need until the necessity arises. If you anticipate, 
 you misjudge. Your American outfit will render you 
 
BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 245 
 
 an oddity in England. But do not change there, or 
 you will be still more singular in Paris. 'It is as well 
 to start with but one dress besides the one you wear 
 on the steamer — anything you chance to have; a 
 black alpaca, or half-worn black silk, is very service- 
 able. When you reach Paris, circumstances and the 
 season will govern your purchases ; and this same 
 dress will be almost a necessity for constant railway 
 journeys, rainy-day sight-seeing, and mule-riding in 
 Switzerland. A little care and brushing, fresh linen, 
 and a pretty French tie, will make it presentable — if 
 not more — at any hotel dinner table. 
 
 A warm shawl or wrap of some kind you will need 
 for evenings, — even though you travel in summer, — 
 for visiting the cathedrals, which are chill as a tomb ; 
 and for weeks together among the mountains you will 
 never throw it aside. But if you can take but one, 
 dorCt provide yourself with a water-proof. They are 
 too undeniably ugly, and not sufficiently warm for con- 
 stant wear. If it rains slightly, the umbrella, which 
 you will buy from force of necessity and example in 
 England, will protect you; if in torrents, you will ride. 
 Indeed, you will always ride, time is so precious, cab- 
 hire so cheap, and distances so great in most foreign 
 cities. 
 
 Lastly, let me I>eg of you to provide yourself with 
 an abundant supply of patience and good-nature. 
 Without these, no outfit is complete. Try to laugh at 
 annoyances. Smile, at least. And do not anticipate 
 difficulties. Above all, enjoy yourself, and then every- 
 body you meet will enjoy you. And so good by, and 
 " God bless us every one." 
 
List of Books Recently Published 
 
 BY 
 
 LEE & SHEPARD, 
 
 149 Washington Street, Boston. 
 
 EUROPEAN TRAVEL. 
 
 OVER THE OCEAN, OR SIGHTS AND SCENES IN 
 
 FOREIGN LANDS. By Curtis Guild, editor Boston 
 Cotnmerctal Bulletin. I vol. Crown 8vo. Price, $2.50. 
 
 This bright and vivacious book of foreign travel has received 
 
 the most flattering encomiums from the press all over the 
 
 country. 
 
 The Nezv York Tribune says : — 
 
 " Guild's choice of topics is excellent ; the interest of his descriptions never 
 flags. No virtuous American with the hope of a Parisian heaven before his 
 eyes should fail to remember this volume while packing for the voyage." 
 
 "The New York A Ibioyi says : — 
 
 "This is certainly a collection of some of the most perfect pen-pictures of 
 Sights and Scenes in Foreign Lands we have ever read." 
 
 Rev. H. W. Bellows says, in the Liberal Christian: — 
 
 " It is one of the best books of foreign travel ever published in this 
 country." 
 
 Rev. Edward Everett Hale, says: — 
 
 "I read it with constant interest — and I read but few books of travel." 
 
 AN AMERICAN WOMAN IN EUROPE. Thejournalof two 
 
 weeks' sojourn in France, Switzerland, Italy, and Ger- 
 many. By Mrs. S. R. Urbino, author of " The Princes 
 of Art." i2mo. Cloth. $1.50. 
 
 The Providence Press says : — 
 
 " A pleasant gossip with an intelligent person who has just returned from 
 Europe, and all the little details of daily life, combined with the cost of every- 
 thing, is given with an ease and grace which is charming." 
 The Phila. Journal of Commerce says : — 
 
 "A remarkably pleasant and chatty book of travel." 
 The Chicago Commercial says : — 
 
 "A pleasant break in the monotony of stories of European trips. 
 "She tel's you the best and cheapest way to travel, the shortest and pleas- 
 antest routes, the best sights to see, the best hotels to live in, and just how 
 much it costs to travel, see, or live in the far countries she describes." 
 
Lee &* Shepard's Recent Publications. 
 
 E SCHWARTZ'S CELEBRATED NOVELS. 
 
 MARIE SOPHIE. SCHWARTZ. 
 
 TWO FAMILY MOTHERS. 8vo. Paper, $i; Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "The plot is carried forward by characters lifelike and interesting, the 
 whole leading to scenes everywhere fascinating and instructive." — Albany 
 Evening Post. 
 
 THE RIGHT ONE. 8vo. Paper, $1.00; Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " Of all the light literature of the day, that of this Swedish writer may be 
 pronounced among the most interesting and least injurious." — Phrenological 
 Journal. 
 
 GOLD AND NAME. 8vo. Paper, $1.00; Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "This is a powerful book; in plot and style it is equally good. Its morals 
 — it may be considered to have several — are unexceptionable; one thought 
 is beautiful — that neither Gold nor Name can satisfy, and both may prove 
 the curse of those who seek them." — Christian Standard, Cincinnati. 
 
 BIRTH AND EDUCATION. 8vo. Paper, $1; Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " This title would make one suppose that it was a book devoted to common 
 schools and academies. Instead of that it is a romance of the very highest 
 class ; one of the best historical novels of the age." — Alb. Eveni?ig Post. 
 
 GUILT AND INNOCENCE. 8vo. Paper, $1; Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " Madame Schwartz is a writer of much greater literary merit than Miss 
 Muhibach, whose works have been so widely circulated in this country, and 
 her productions cannot fail to meet with at least equal success." — New York 
 A tlas. 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 8vo. Paper, $1; Cloth, 
 $1.50. 
 
 "Brighter, fresher, and better worth reading than nine tenths of modern 
 novels." — Worcester Gazette. 
 
Lee &° SheparcPs Recent Publications. 
 
 THREE SPLENDID BOOKS. 
 
 CLOUD PICTURES. By F. H. Underwood. i6mo. Cloth. 
 $2.00. Comprising: 
 
 1. The Exile of Von Adelstein's Soul. 
 
 2. topankalon. 
 
 3. Herr Regenbogen's Concert. 
 
 4. A Great Organ Prelude. 
 
 Four stories drawn entirely from the author's fancy, different 
 in character, though partaking of the same peculiar style, 
 make up the " Cloud Pictures." 
 
 "The 'Exile of Von Adelstein's Soul' is a strange tale of the supernat- 
 ural, repulsive in details, distasteful in conception ; but skilfully worked out, 
 elaborate in style, and artistically finished. 
 
 " ' Topankalon ' is far pleasanter in its influence. A charming Utopian 
 life is rudely broken in upon by barbaric power, and a sweet feminine influ- 
 ence refines and conquers savage force, and produces in the union of the two 
 elements culture and strength, the highest conditions of civilized life. 
 
 "The remaining stories are specially adapted to the taste of musical en- 
 thusiasts. The book is beautiful in mechanical finish, matter and manner 
 harmonizing in refinement and tasteful elegance." — Bosto?i Transcript. 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER. By Sophie May. i6mo. 
 
 Cloth. $1.50. 
 All the tenderness, earnestness, and jollity which characterize 
 
 her writings for j'oung folks, and which causes them to 
 
 be as eagerly sought by parents as children, abound in 
 
 this story for older readers. 
 
 "Bright as a sunbeam, natural as life itself, unpretending as real goodness, 
 and sanitary as the personal effect of pure spring water." —Boston Trans. 
 
 "A Prudy Story grown up and, with all the charming grace and subtle 
 delicacy of its juvenile predecessor, possesses the added interest due to the 
 fact that it is a story of men and women instead of children." — New York 
 Citizen and Round Table. 
 
 " So charmingly told that from first to last the interest never lessens." — 
 Hearth and Home. 
 
 "A sound, healthy, interesting story. " — Prov. Press. 
 
 RU3Y DUKE. A Novel of Society. By Mrs. H. K. Pot- 
 win. i2mo. Cloth. $1.50. 
 
 "The struggles, trials, and achievements of Ruby are nothing startling, 
 grand, or sentimental, but serve to illustrate the fact that in every life there is 
 some sure possibility waiting for development, and some bud of promise that 
 shall blossom into a fragrant flower of Christian grace under proper care." 
 
 "The author has drawn a very beautiful character in the heroine of this 
 vol ume. ' ' — Episcopal. 
 
 "Naturally and gracefully told." — Concord Statesman. 
 
 "A pleasing and well written story of woman's life and development." — 
 Buffalo Courier. 
 
 "Written in a free and vigorous style." — Salem Gazette. 
 
Lee &* SheftarcPs Recent Publications. 
 
 WORTHY PARTICULAR ATTENTION. 
 
 PENS AND TYPES. Hints and Helps to all who Write, 
 Print, or Read. By Benjamin Drew. i6mo. Cloth. 
 $1.50. 
 
 '"Pens and Types' is the title of a little book by Benjamin Drew, con- 
 taining such hints and guides for people who write for the press, and printers, 
 as long experience in the work of proof reading has taught him to be essen- 
 tial. There are two classes of people who never properly prepare their man- 
 uscript for publication — those who do not know how to do it, and those who 
 do not care whether they do it or not. The former may be benefited by these 
 hints ; the latter are incorrigible." — Boston Advertiser. 
 
 BEHIND THE BARS. i 2 mo. Cloth. $2.00. 
 
 "We have read it with no little interest. It treats of a class of persons 
 who, incapable of judging for themselves, should be the more carefully and 
 tenderly looked after by their relatives, friends, and the State ; and should not 
 be confided to institutions, without continuous scrutiny and attention. We 
 have heard of some sad delinquency on the part of those to whose care such 
 sufferers have been committed." — Methodist Protestant. 
 
 " Many works upon the treatment proper for insane patients have been pub- 
 lished ; but never, we believe, until now, has one been produced so well cal- 
 culated by its details to promote the essential benefit of those whose state so 
 strongly appeals to the liveliest sympathies of mankind." 
 
 ART ; Its Laws and the Reasons for Them. Collected, con- 
 densed, and arranged for General and Educational Pur- 
 poses. By Samuel P. Long, Counsellor at Law, Student 
 of the English Royal Academy, and Pupil of the late 
 Gilbert Stuart Newton, R. A. i2mo. Cloth. With 
 Steel Engravings and Wood-Cuts. $3.00. 
 
 Hon. George B. Emerson, in a note to the author, says : — 
 
 " I believe that any person who shall carefully read it would so understand 
 the principles, and have his eyes opened to the beauties of art, that he would 
 never look upon a picture, a statue, or a noble building, without more interest 
 and a higher power of appreciating and enjoying it." 
 
 TILESTON'S HAND-BOOK OF THE ADMINISTRA- 
 TIONS OF THE UNITED STATES. i6mo. Flexible: 
 With Photographs of the Presidents from Washington 
 to Grant. $1.50. Large paper copies (limited), $2.50. 
 
 "From this excellent beginning to the conclusion, the book is replete with 
 the most interesting information. Each Administration receives its fair share 
 of outline. When there have been messages or proclamations of importance, 
 they are given either fully or in well-chosen extracts. Especial attention has 
 been given to Mr. Lincoln, and indeed, an epitome of the war is thus pre- 
 sented. Besides a history in brief of each President and his policy, we find 
 lists of the different Cabinets, and an analysis of contemporaneous history. 
 The style is clear and concise ; and the book forms an entertaining and useful 
 manual. If the reader could remember its contents, he would be well in- 
 formed as to the entire history of this country." — Philadelphia Age. 
 
Lee (Sr 9 SheparcFs Recent Publications. 
 
 IMPORTANT RELIGIOUS WORKS. 
 
 HALF TRUTHS AND THE TRUTH. Lectures on 
 the Origin and Development of prevailing forms of Un- 
 belief considered in relation to the Nature and Claims of 
 the Christian System. By Rev. J. M. Manning, D. D., 
 Pastor of the Old South Church, Boston. i2tno. Cloth. 
 
 $2.00. 
 
 " This substantial volume, of almost 400 pages, embraces Dr. Manning's 
 lectures on popular infidelity, its source, its development, and its relation to 
 what is known as the Biblical or Christian system. The topics of these nine 
 lectures are, — Spinoza and ether masters, The Nature and Grounds of Pan- 
 theism, The German Succession, Pantheistic Christology, The Culture which 
 Pantheism legitimates, Pantheism in the form of Hero-worship, in the Form 
 of Self-worship, Theism with a Pantheistic Drift, and the Strength and 
 Weakness of Pantheism." — Christian Mirror. 
 
 THE SWORD AND GARMENT, OR MINISTERIAL 
 
 CULTURE. By Rev. L. T. Townsend, D. D., Professor 
 in Boston Theological Seminary. i6mo. Cloth. $1.50. 
 
 "The layman who will study this book carefully will be able to form a more 
 correct estimate of his pastor's sermons than can be done without it, and 
 every preacher who will read it cannot fail to see how religious subjects must 
 be presented in modern times to meet modern wants." — Literary World. 
 
 "That ministerial readers will agree with the author in all respects, is not 
 to be expected. They will, all the same, find his book replete with quicken- 
 ing and with good counsel. We almost think, however, that those not minis- 
 ters need it most. The relations of Pew and Pulpit would be rendered 
 far more pleasant and profitable, mutually, if Pew understood better what 
 Pulpit really ought to be, and in what ways it may efficiently help it in be- 
 coming such." — Christian Standard. 
 
 DEAN ALFORD'S NEW TESTAMENT COMMEN- 
 TARY FOR ENGLISH READERS, containing the Author- 
 ized Version, with a revised English Version; with all 
 the new readings from the recently found Sinaitic Manu- 
 script, which was discovered by Constantine Teschen- 
 dorf, in a Convent on Mount Sinai; also, containing 
 Marginal References, and a Critical and Explanatory 
 . Commentary, with Maps of the Journeyings of Our Lord 
 and of St. Paul ; and an Introduction to each book, giving 
 an account of the authorship, authenticity, time and 
 place of writing, &c, &c, forming a compact Biblical 
 Library. 4 vols. 8vo. Cloth, $16.00; half calf, $26.00. 
 
 DEAN ALFORD'S GREEK TESTAMENT, with a 
 
 Critically Revised Text; a Digest of various Readings; 
 Marginal References to Verbal and Idiomatic Usage ; Pro- 
 legomena ; and a copious Critical and Exegetical Com- 
 mentary in English. 4 vols. 8vo. Cloth, $30.00; half 
 calf, $42.00. 
 
Lee 6° Sheftarcfs Recent Publicatioiis. 
 
 NORTHERN LANDS, or Young America in Russia and 
 Prussia. By Oliver Optic. i6mo. Illustrated. $1.50. 
 
 UP THE BALTIC, or Young America in Sweden, Nor- 
 way and Denmark. One handsome i6mo volume. Il- 
 lustrated. $1.50. 
 
 " Oliver Optic is so well known to the boys of America that he needs no 
 introduction, nor do his writings require any editorial indorsement. His 
 name on the title-page of any volume is enough to insure its immediate ac- 
 ceptance." — New York Citizen and Round Table. 
 
 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, or The Struggles of a Sol- 
 dier. By Oliver Optic. i6mo. Illustrated. $1.25. 
 
 "This volume, attractively bound uniformly with the previous numbers 
 of the series, and neatly illustrated, details the further history of the hero, 
 Phil Farringford, locating the scene of his adventures in New York, and at 
 the scene of the Italian war in 1859, and shows how, through all his struggles 
 as a Soldier, true to his motto, 'Upward and Onward,' he was ever true to 
 himself, to his friends, and to his God." — Worcester Gazette. 
 
 OLIVER OPTIC'S ALMANAC. Fully Iliust. 30 cts. 
 
 "Who does not know who Oliver Optic is, of his many juvenile books that 
 are read by Young America all over the land ? Well, his Almanac is equal to 
 half a dozen books. Be sure and get one." — Peru Herald. 
 
 "The Sest Juvenile Magazine in the World." 
 
 OLIVER OPTIC'S MAGAZINE. Published by Lee & 
 Shepard, 149 Washington St., Boston, at $2.50 a Year. 
 
 "A careful examination of this magazine shews that it fairly takes the lead 
 in juvenile periodical literature. It contains more matter and in greater va- 
 riety, is better illustrated, displays more genuine editorial work than any of its 
 rivals in the field, and its great popularity and ever increasing circulation are 
 proofs that this is the verdict of the public." 
 
 Tit© TJixi^rei^ssLl Verdict. 
 (< ' Oliver Optic' is a nom de plume that is known and loved 
 by almost every boy of intelligence in the land. We have 
 seen a highly intellectual and world-weary man, a cynic 
 whose heart was somewhat imbittered by its large experience 
 of human nature, take up one of Oliver Optic's books and 
 read it at a sitting, neglecting his work in yielding to the 
 fascination of the pages. When a mature and exceedingly 
 well-informed mind, long despoiled of all its freshness, can 
 thus find pleasure in a book for boys, no additional words of 
 recommendation are needed." — Sunday Times, iV. Y, City. 
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