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Wayside Notes 
 
 AND 
 
 Fireside Thoughts. 
 
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 EUDORA. 
 
 ST. LOUIS: 
 
 JOHN BURNS' PUBLISHING CO., 
 
 717 & 719 Olive Street. 
 
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 Copyrig^hted, 1884, 
 By E. L. SOUTH. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF CONGRESS 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 TO 
 
 MR. NICHOLAS LINDSAY. 
 
 When England's famous poet, years agone, 
 
 Those beauteous legends wrote of Arthur's time, 
 
 To Albert, Queen Victoria's noble spouse, 
 
 He dedicated every studied line. 
 
 'Twas needful thus, for one who sought for fame, 
 
 To compliment the great and win their aid ; 
 
 But I, who simply write to please myself 
 
 And those I love, may dedicate to you, 
 
 Dear Father, what I've writ. 'Tvvere little use, 
 
 In this free land, to flatter those in power, 
 
 For he who fills the presidential chair 
 
 To-day, when morrow comes is but a man ; 
 
 WhUe he who holds to-day some lowly place, 
 
 Ere mnny times the earth revolve, may stand 
 
 E'en at the nation's head. So, moved alone 
 
 By deepest reverence, purest love, do I, 
 
 My Father, dedicate to you this book. 
 
 (8.> 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 fOLOMON says, "Of making many books there 
 is no end; " while the publishers say, '* Of 
 books of travel the number is legion." From the 
 "wise man's" declaration, it would seem a piece 
 of folly to become the maker of a book of any kind ; 
 from the words of the publisher, we may suppose it 
 is especially presumptuous to write a book of travels. 
 Despite these warnings, however, I have dared to 
 present to the public another book, — a book whose 
 greater part is filled with " Wayside Notes." While 
 the words of Solomon are true, while books without 
 number are written, no one man possesses all these 
 books. Almost daily, from many sources, comes to 
 me the request, " Please send me something to read." 
 This request I now propose to answer by offering for 
 perusal the following pages. 
 
 I know that books of travel are numerous, but I am 
 sure no one contains exactly the things I have told. 
 Besides, old things told in a new way have the effect of 
 novelty. Many a writer of travels takes for granted 
 too much knowledge on the part of the reader, and 
 thus fails to make himself understood. Many of the 
 letters in this volume were written to my younger 
 sister and brothers, and so written as to be understood 
 
 (5) 
 
b PREFACE. 
 
 by them. My other private letters were addressed to 
 those who were as ignorant of Europe as I had been ; 
 so those things that were new to me I have presented 
 to them. Again, there was no part of my year abroad 
 more enjoyable than that spent in interchange of ideas 
 with persons of other nationality than my own ; hence, 
 I have aimed to associate with each place the people 
 there encountered. This, of course, gives to the 
 book more individuality than a mere description of 
 places could do. 
 
 The contents of "Fireside Thoughts" have been 
 written at various times, and called forth by various 
 circumstances. Whatever else may be said of these 
 poems and essays, I think I can safely promise that 
 no reader will be made the worse by their perusal; 
 and, it may be, the less experienced may find in them 
 some lessons of wisdom. Under many difficulties have 
 these "Wayside Notes" and "Fireside Thoughts" 
 been finally prepared for the publisher, and the author 
 sends them forth with the prayer that they may not 
 be wholly barren of good results. 
 
 E. L. South. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART FIEST. 
 
 WAYSIDE NOTES. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Atlantic Ocean — The Last Speck of Land — Reflections — New 
 Acquaintances — Sea-Sickness — Anecdotes, etc., for Pastime — 
 A Rough Day — " Land Ho ! " — The Separation ! . 17-41 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Glasgow — The Cathedral — Excursion to the Country — High- 
 land Costume — Historic Reminiscences .... 41-52 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Leith — Edinboro — West Church — Dr. McGregor — The Na- 
 tional Gallery — Holyrood Palace — The Picture Gallery — Lord 
 Darnley's Audience Chamber — The Magic Mirror — Arthur's 
 Seat 53-67 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 North Sea — Leith to Hamburg — Kind Friends — German Eti- 
 quette — Victoria Hotel — German Idea of a Full Break- 
 fast 67-76 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 Dresden — Architecture and Scenery — Strange Customs and 
 Odd Teams — Our German Professor — German Economy . 77-86 
 
 (7) 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 Dresden — German Customs — The Street Cars — A Novel 
 Courtship 87-95 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 Dresden — German Castles — The Zwinger — The Green 
 Vaults — The Bronze Room — The Ivory Room — The Chimney 
 Room — The Silver Room — An Old Clock — The Crystal 
 Room 96-104 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 Dresden — The Vogel Wiese — A Gala Day— The King Prac- 
 ticing Archery . 104-114 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 Dresden — The Exposition — Lace Making — Silk "Weaving — 
 Musical Instruments 114-121 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 Dresden — Observance of Sunday — The Churches and their 
 Services — The Albertinian Society — Grosze Garden — Custom 
 atEunerals 122-139 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 
 Dresden — Saxon Switzerland — Jungf rau — Devil's Kitchen — 
 View from the Baltic 139-150 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 Munich— i Departure from Dresden — Prague — The Old Jew- 
 ish Synagogue — Jewish Boys 160-157 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 Munich — A Misunderstanding — Isar Gate — Marien Platz — 
 The Royal Theater . . • 157-163 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 Switzerland — Zurich — Bavarian Costume — A German Friend — 
 Pere Hyacinthe 163-171 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 Geneva — Home of Jolin Calvin — View of Mont Blanc — 
 Lake Geneva — An Old Castle 171-178 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 Geneva — Mountain Passes — A Jolly Traveler — Mountain 
 Scenes — Vale of Chamounix 178-185 
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 
 Florence — Montanvert — Mer De Glace — Mauvais Pas — 
 Martigny 186-196 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 Florence — Pitti Palace — Boboli Gardens — A Sermon in Ger- 
 man 197-202 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 Florence — Waldensian School — The Work Room — Printing 
 Office 203-218 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 Florence — Pitti Palace — Santa Croce — Boboli Gardens 210-218 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 Florence — Our Neighbors — Gavazzi .... 218-225 
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 
 Florence — Fine Arts — The Old Masters — Giotto — Davinci — 
 Michael Angelo 226-235 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 Florence — The Churches — St. Aununziata — Paintings — 
 Architecture 236-239 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 Florence — The Big Book — A Strange People — "Mrs. Blar- 
 ney" 24C-247 
 
10 CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTEE XXV. 
 
 Florence — The Monastery — Chapter House — Room of the 
 Prior 247-253 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 Florence — Fra Angelico — An Old Library — Massaccio 253-260 
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 
 Florence — Etruscan Museum — National Museum — Old Rel- 
 ics — Bronze Room — Work of the Old Masters . . 261-271 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 Florence — American Union Church — Missionary Soci- 
 ety 272-276 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 Florence — Pitti Palace — Saloon of Jupiter . . . 276-283 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 Florence— Ponte Vecchio — An Incident — " The Count " 283-291 
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 Florence — A Noisy Chat — Christmas in Italy — Home of An- 
 gelo — Some Old Sketches 292-299 
 
 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 Florence — Waldensian School — A Christmas Tree — Watch 
 Night — A Superstitious Custom 299-306 
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 Florence — Forethought — A Trip to Fiesole — The Old Cathe- 
 dral—A Sunset Scene 306-316 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 Florence — "Chicago" — Christmas Games . . 316-321 
 
CONTENTS. 11 
 
 LETTEE XXXV. 
 
 Eome — Eetrospection — Arrival at Eome — French Manners — 
 Eeady to Depart . . 322-329 
 
 LETTEE XXXVI. 
 
 Eome — Sistine Chapel — Fresco Work — Designs by Angelo — 
 Designs by Eaphael 329-337 
 
 LETTEE XXXVII. 
 
 Eome — The Pope — " Holy Family " — " Blessed 
 Infant" 338-344 
 
 LETTEE XXXVIII. 
 Rome — Tarpsean Eock — The Disputed Sticks . . 344-349 
 
 LETTEE XXXIX. 
 
 Eome — Fruit From the Vatican — The Capuchins — Quirinal 
 Palace — Congratulations ...... 349-356 
 
 LETTEE XL. 
 
 Eome — Garibaldi — St. Peter's Prison — Subterranean Dun- 
 geons — American Sculptors — Miss Hosmer . . 357-368 
 
 LETTEE XLI. 
 Eome — Appian Way — Old Euins — Ancient Tombs 369-375 
 
 LETTEE XLII. 
 
 Eome — Pleasant Thoughts — Eesponsibilities — Protestant 
 Churches . 376-382 
 
 LETTEE XLIII. 
 
 Rome — First Impressions — A Street Scene — A New Arrival — 
 Gavazzi 382-388 
 
 LETTEE XLIV. 
 
 Rome — Mountain Scenery — Lava Fields — Vesuvius — The 
 Ascent — On The Brink 389-397 
 
12 CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER XLV. 
 
 Rome — A Grand Carnival — A Narrow Escape — ^ Victor 
 Emanuel 397-408 
 
 LETTER XLVI. 
 
 Rome — The Carnival — Triumph of Bacchus — The Corso — 
 The Maccoli 404-410 
 
 LETTER XLVII. 
 Florence — Pompeii — The Colosseum . . . 411-414 
 
 LETTER XLVIII. 
 
 Venice — The Bridge — Grand Canal — Works of Art — Bridge 
 of Sighs — The Bell Towers — Isola Bella . . ., 415-428 
 
 LETTER XLIX. 
 
 Paris — Ravenna — An Excursion — On the Lakes — The Su- 
 perga — Viev? From the Top — Back Again . . . 429-440 
 
 LETTER L. 
 Venetian Custom — Farewell to Venice . . . 440-446 
 
 LETTER LL 
 
 Scenes in Paris — Parisian Custom — Works of Art 446-454 
 
 LETTER LII. 
 
 The French Language — A Slight Mistake — The Exposi- 
 tion ........... 464-462 
 
 LETTER LIII. 
 
 Atlantic Ocean — Man Overboard — Burial at Sea — Home 
 Again 462-468 
 
 LETTER LIV. 
 Glencoe — Orange Blossoms . . . . . 468-471 
 
 LETTER LV. 
 Excelsior Institute 471-472 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 13 
 
 PAKT SECOI^D. 
 
 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS 
 
 ESSAYS, OKIGINAL AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 1 . Valedictory Delivered at Hocker (now Hamilton) Col- 
 
 lege, June 8, 1871 473 
 
 2. Only Waiting 486 
 
 3. Whom to Marry 486 
 
 4. Soliloquy of a Junior 491 
 
 6. Companionship in Marriage . . . . . . 492 
 
 6. " The Lord Goodness ! " ....... 496 
 
 7. Purity of Speech 497 
 
 8. Elocution 600 
 
 9. Memorable Correspondence 606 
 
 TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 10. Hope — Woman .608 
 
 11. Longing — Division of the Earth 511 
 
 12. " Stabat Mater Dolorosa " 612 
 
 13. The Virgin Mother 614 
 
 14. The Pilgrim .516 
 
 15. " Dies Irse " 617 
 
 16. The Brooklet 618 
 
 17. Sayings of Confucius 519 
 
14 CONTENTS. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS AND ORIGINAL POEMS. 
 
 18. Snowdrifts 519 
 
 19. Triumph of Faith 520 
 
 20. Sympathy 521 
 
 21. The Sacred Feast 622 
 
 22. A Prayer 622 
 
 23. Too Late 623 
 
 24. Why do I Teach School? 623 
 
 25. "Ultra Alpes Est Italia" 524 
 
 26. In Memoriam — Elijah R. Lindsay . . . • 525 
 
 27. Why is it? 527 
 
 28. In Memoriam — T.J. South 528 
 
 29. "He Loveth a Cheerful Giver" . . . . . 530 
 
 30. Let the Old Seed Die that New Fruit May Come . . 630 
 
 31. The Good Old Times 531 
 
 32. The Opening Year 533 
 
 33. What a Day May Bring 634 
 
 34. A Vision of the Night 536 
 
 35. A Confession 537 
 
 36. Living or Dead 589 
 
 37. The Fatal Dance 540 
 
 38. Who Did This Deed? 542 
 
 39. My Mission 644 
 
 40. Jumbo 647 
 
 41. Triumph of Chastity 648 
 
 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 42. A Day with Jesus 661 
 
 43. How the Stone was Rolled Away 556 
 
 44. David's Lament over Saul and Jonathan. . . . 658 
 
 45. Ruth and Naomi 660 
 
PAKT I. 
 
 WAYSIDE NOTES. 
 
 (15) 
 
LETTER I. 
 
 Atlantic Ocean, June 5, 1875. 
 Dear Brother Graham : — 
 
 "X\?S^7TE have but this instant lost sight of the last speck 
 JV^T of American soil ; but lest events get too f ar 
 ahead of my record, I begin, at once, my log-book. 
 Three o'clock this afternoon found us on board the 
 steamship Elysia, of the Anchor Lide — on the very 
 tip top, otherwise the hurricane deck, waiting for her 
 to push out towards Glasgow, Scotland. Soon a 
 slight tremor passed over the huge frame of the vessel 
 and simultaneously the wharf began to recede. A 
 moment ago the hundreds on shore had clasped hands 
 with the hundreds about departing; now the waters 
 rolled between, leaving possible no other token than 
 the mutual waving of snowy handkerchiefs. You, 
 President, with the rest of our friends, were a thou- 
 sand miles away ; we knew not one of the upturned 
 faces gazing upon us from the pier; but, nevertheless, 
 we, too, unfurled our 'kerchiefs with the rest. Mother 
 wept bitter tears when we left her ; friends clung to 
 us in parting as if we were never to meet again ; but 
 these people smilingly bade us *' God speed," as our 
 2 . (17) 
 
18 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 gallant steamer moved out to sea. There seemed no 
 shadow of a foreboding that ours was to be other than 
 a happy journey and a safe return. I must admit, 
 though, now that we are fairly at sea, there recur to 
 my mind the horrors portrayed by those who fain 
 would have frightened us out of the voyage. Can it 
 be that from those lovely threads of foam is to be 
 woven my funeral shroud ? Can this gentle motion be 
 transformed into the terrible tossing which is to drive 
 us frantic with sea-sickness ? 
 
 June 6th. — While penning the last sentence an Irish 
 Californian came along and advised me to desist, as 
 bending over my paper was apt to produce the very 
 thing I was dreading. I began to feel chilly too, so 
 first going below to don my heavy water-proof, I 
 joined my friends on the breezy top. They were 
 chatting with two gentlemen whom brother introduced 
 as his room-mates. One of them has a decidedly cler- 
 ical air, speaking always as if proclaiming an oracle; 
 the other is full of repartee, a flash of wit lighting up 
 his homely face till you forget its native lack of 
 beauty — forget the marks left upon it by small-pox — 
 forget the freckles filling the remaining space — forget, 
 too, the deformity which compels him to rest upon a 
 cane while walking. Both proved to be Presbyterian 
 preachers : the one a pompous Scotchman, the other 
 a witty son of Erin. They were both brought to 
 America while children and received an American 
 education, but it takes generations for even our atmos- 
 phere to dissipate national peculiarities. They had 
 
LETTER ONE. 19 
 
 been discussing the probability of encountering 
 storms. 
 
 *' Were you ever in a storm, Mr. C?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes, once; it was glorious! I sat flat down on 
 deck, held tight to the bulwarks, and let one wave 
 after another break over me for more than an hour," 
 he responded. 
 
 *'OhI" said I, *' how much good the immersion 
 must have done you." 
 
 "So you're a Baptist, are you?" he inquired, 
 catching up at once the word " immersion." 
 
 I promptly corrected his mistake, assuring him 
 that I wore willingly no other name than that of " Chris- 
 tian," or "Disciple." We might have gotten into a 
 debate, but were rescued from such a calamity by 
 " Adam," namesake of him who originated theologi- 
 cal disputes " and all our woes." We knew his name 
 was Adam from hearing him so called by a vivacious 
 young lady, evidently his traveling companion. He 
 came across the deck and took a seat next me, at once 
 opening a conversation. " Another Scotchman," was 
 my mental comment before he had uttered a dozen 
 words. He asked where I was from, what I had 
 seen of the world, and where I might be going now. 
 When he was through, I took my turn at playing 
 " Inquisitive Jack," and as a result, he found me to be 
 a Kentucky girl, practically ignorant of the wonders of 
 America, but bound to explore the greater ones of 
 Europe ; I found in him one who had tried all parts of 
 the globe, had settled finally in a Pennsylvania coal 
 
20 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 mine, and was now on his way to visit his aged mother 
 in Scotland. Such is the approved etiquette of an 
 introduction aboard ship. 
 
 The ringing of the tea-bell called us to the saloon, 
 where we partook of oatmeal cake and tea. Our 
 Scotch friends found in the former dish consolation for 
 the fact that we had just been passed by the City of 
 Chester. " Slow and sure," is the motto of the 
 Scotch sailor, and with oatmeal cake to cheer the way, 
 the Scotch passenger can endure the thought of coming 
 second into port. 
 
 I thought, last night, the supper rather a frugal 
 affair ; but to-day, the reason for that became appar- 
 ent. It is the fifth meal of the day. At seven a. m., 
 we can have oatmeal porridge in our berths ; and at 
 half past eight, comes a bountiful breakfast; at twelve 
 a lunch is spread; at four, are served in succession, 
 soup, fish, meats with vegetables and sauces, puddings 
 and pies, with a dessert of fruits and nuts. In fact, 
 we do little else but eat, that is, we of the cabin. Last 
 night, *'Adam " called me to see " something funny;" 
 I went, through curiosity, and found three or four 
 wretched steerage passengers rolling on their part of the 
 deck in the agony of sea-sickness. I didn't look long, 
 lest I too should catch the epidemic. We were afraid 
 to go to our bunks, so we sat out in the fresh air till 
 eleven o'clock. The gentlemen spun yarns for us; we 
 ladies joined in the chorus of laughter ; then would 
 follow an interval in which all silently listened to the 
 murmur of the sea, and thought of the dear ones left 
 
LETTER ONE. 21 
 
 behind. Brother distinguished himself by discover- 
 ing a multitude of new stars, not in the sky, but in the 
 ocean, lighting up the track over which our vessel was 
 speeding. The waters on either side were inky black, 
 but just in our wake was a broad line of light, throwing 
 off starlike scintillations upon this dark back-ground. 
 
 After all it was not so bad in our state-rooms — 
 never enjoyed a sweeter sleep, never opened my eyes 
 upon a brighter Lord's-day. Not every one has fared 
 so well, though. Just this minute two gentlerhen came 
 up, declaring they were going to take a potion of sea- 
 water " and have it all over at once " — - yes and here's 
 Miss Law, Adam's cousin, who was all vivacity last 
 night, now as pale as a ghost. She managed to dress 
 by putting on one garment at a time, then lying down 
 again — even now her shoes are not laced and her hair 
 not combed, but little she cares for that. 
 
 *' And don't you feel at all squeamish, Miss L.?" 
 inquires Mr. Conway, while the expression of some 
 inner trouble, which he fain would conceal, passes over 
 his face. He has to preach at ten, down in the saloon, 
 and sugo-ests the text: " And there shall be no more 
 sea ; " but I protest against it, as I am yet qiiite in love 
 with the playful billows. Kate has developed a sud- 
 den fondness for lemons and an aversion to other food. 
 
 June 7th. — We had preaching yesterday at ten, 
 according to appointment; Sunday-school at two; and 
 yet another service at eight p. m. This service drew 
 us nearer together by making us realize our common 
 dependence upon one Mighty Arm. Sailors, they say, 
 
22 ATLANTIC! OCEAN. 
 
 are never content unless there is at least one minister 
 of the Gospel on board. They imagine there is safety 
 in the mere presence of one whose wont it is to hold 
 constant communion with God. 
 
 There were only a straggling few at breakfast this 
 morning, but among them was a large, flabby-looking, 
 gray-haired man, who has been an object of remark 
 ever since we set out. With a young woman, whom 
 we supposed to be his daughter, he has been almost 
 constantly running the deck. 
 
 " Come, Miss, don't be so lazy," said he to me this 
 morning, " take a run with us and you will feel alive 
 again. Come, I'll help you get your sea-legs on," 
 and, taking my arm, he was off with me before I 
 could say yes or no. 
 
 " Very well done,'* he said encouragingly ; ** you'll 
 soon learn — get out of breath a little at first, to be 
 sure ! " I hadn't much use for breath just then, for 
 he talked away, leaving no room for a word from 
 me. 
 
 " My wife and I have been much on the water — 
 came from New Zealand atjross to San Francisco only 
 a month ago — we never are caught by sea-sickness, 
 because we walk too fast ! There, now; don't you feel 
 wide awake." I did, indeed, and also quite able to 
 walk alone, so I yielded his arm to a fresh recruit. 
 Made ventursome by our example, quite a number 
 joined us. Oh ! how wild is the sea, and how we inhale 
 the same spirit as we revel in the invigorating breeze. 
 From stern to bow and back again is quite a promenade, 
 
LETTER ONE. 23 
 
 but we always linger awhile at either end. What a fur- 
 row we seem to plow in the deep as the resisting waters 
 are thrown right and left by the prow into great ridges 
 of snowy froth I How tightly we clasp the iron railing 
 at the stern as that part of the vessel is one moment 
 thrown high in air, and the next let fall till our heads 
 are . on a level with the crest of the wave 1 The sail- 
 ors are teaching us now to avoid the front part of the 
 vessel. They caught several gentlemen up there 
 awhile ago, drew a chalk line around them, and re- 
 fused to let them out for less than " a treat." 
 
 June 8th. — The Elysia kept up a doleful whistling 
 last night, which greatly disturbed our slumbers. It 
 sounded like the despairing notes of a lost child, which 
 had alread}'' shouted itself into hoarseness and exhaus- 
 tion. Such pitiful tones seemed not at all consistent 
 with the majestic movements thus far characteristic of 
 our ocean queen. Captain says this whistling was a 
 necessary precaution on account of the fog, which pre- 
 vailed last night while we were crossing the banks of 
 Newfoundland. This morning, though, the sun lights 
 up the waters, and expands our view into a diameter 
 of more than a dozen miles. The fishing smacks, 
 which kept us company all day yesterday, have dis- 
 appeared, but just now we beheld a most lovely 
 vision. It was a vessel with every sail spread, skim- 
 ming along as airily as a sea gull. Her canvas glistened 
 in the sunlight with a whiteness second only to that of 
 the garments in the Transfiguration, We, too, have up 
 
24 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 our mainsail, but it is all blackened by its nearness to 
 the smoke-stack. 
 
 Miss P. and I are the only ladies who can walk 
 steadily this morning. You ought to see Kate. She 
 wouldn't wear her veil yesterday, and as consequence 
 her face has reddened and bloated into the appearance 
 of a scarlet pincushion. The skin of her forehead 
 is puffed out till not even the wonted expression of 
 intellect is left. To further enhance her charms, she 
 has to envelop her head in a scarlet nubia, the only 
 one the summer season enabled her to find in New 
 York. It hurts me to look at her, but brother stands 
 it admirably. They are sitting now on the leeward side, 
 reading together Mrs. Browning's "Aurora Leigh." 
 It is too comical to see her, as he comes upon some 
 fine sentiment, raise her swollen lids in the attempt to 
 look appreciation. If I were such a fright as Kate is, 
 I should be just coward enough to hide myself away 
 in my state-room; but, in her good-natured way, she 
 says: — 
 
 " I had no great amount of beauty to lose, not 
 enough to be worth fretting over." 
 
 But I want to tell you about Miss Pickrell. She is 
 from Illinois, and brother recognized her name on the 
 passenger list. Her brother, who is traveling with 
 her, is bound for Ireland, where he intends to invest 
 largely in cattle. Two other Illinoisans are on their 
 way to France in search of Norman horses. What a 
 variety of motives have been at work to bring together 
 
LETTER ONE. 25 
 
 US passengers of the Eylsia, and how this same divers- 
 ity of purpose will, after a few short days, scatter us 
 all over Europe I 
 
 This evening the social spirit seems to be overcom- 
 ing that misanthropic demon which presides over " mal 
 demer.^^ All the ladies are with us in the compan- 
 ion-way, some propped up with cushions to be sure, 
 but the worst one is able to smile, at least faintly. The 
 Captain has been entertaining us with amusing anec- 
 dotes. 
 
 " On one voyage," said he, *' there was an old 
 Scotch lady among my passengers. On the second 
 day out I peeped into the ladies' cabin and never did I 
 see a more disconsolate group. ' Well, my dear 
 madam, how are you by this time?' I asked in a 
 friendly way. * None the better for you, nor your 
 miserable ship,' she replied snappishly. I walked 
 away determined to pay her for being so cross. After 
 half an hour I went back to the cabin and not even 
 noticing the old lady, said to another ' Don't feel well, 
 do you?' 'No, sir.' 'That's because you're on a 
 Scotch steamer — you ought to have known better — 
 should have come on the Cunard Line. Don't you 
 know the Scotch are stupid about everything — they 
 can't build ships, they can't be half way sailors. In 
 fact, there is very little they are fit for.' The old 
 lady had been too sick to raise her head, but, at the 
 end of the first sentence, she sprang up and tried to 
 interrupt me. I paid no attention to her, but talked 
 on while she grew more and more furious. At last, 
 
26 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 she could stand it no longer, but seizing my arm, she 
 fairly shrieked out, ' Are you Scotch? Are you 
 Scotch, I say. You're a disgrace to your country — 
 you're a living disgrace to Scotland.' I laughed in he 
 face, then, and said, ' Give us your hand on that, and 
 tell me, how do you feel now?' I tell you she was 
 never sick another minute after that." 
 
 I think this will be my last entry on sea-sickness, 
 for the fifth day is apt to terminate the most aggra- 
 vated case. 
 
 June 9th. — We had a game of shuffle-bnard this 
 morning. Perhaps you are not familiar with this 
 game — don't know that it is often played on land. 
 The ship's carpenter laid off for us, on the deck, an 
 ellipse with a major axis of some four feet. This he 
 divided by cross-lines into nine spaces, in each of 
 which he inscribed some number. He next provided 
 us with four long-handled v/oodeu shovels and four cir- 
 cular pieces of two inch plank, of perhaps two pounds 
 weight. Marking off a " taw " ten or fifteen feet 
 from the ellipse, the carpenter pronouced the prepa- 
 rations complete. My partner was an Irish priest, a 
 tall handsome young man, with a well cultivated mind 
 and a dignified bearing. He sings most effectively the 
 praises of Killarney, with touching pathos the " Grave 
 of Napoleon," but he refuses to sing love songs, though 
 MissKeill, of Kansas City, has tried to decoy him into 
 this inconsistency. Father C, another of the priestly 
 fraternity, is by no means so scrupulous. He is like 
 the jolly Friar Tuck, who had rather drink wine, play 
 
LETTER ONE. 27 
 
 " Old Sam " for shillings, or pitch quoits for the sake 
 of beating, than to celebrate mass under the dome of 
 St. Peter's. But I am forgetting the game. Miss P. 
 and a low, fat, baby-faced, white-headed young En- 
 glishman were our opponents. I was first to more off, 
 and applied my shovel to my round board with great 
 vehemence. It didn't go half way to the ring, for 
 just as I gave it a push forward, the stern of the vessel 
 rose so as to almost counteract my stroke. Taking 
 better aim next time and waiting till the stern was 
 descending, my block landed entirely beyond the ring. 
 Miss P. next took her turn and was much elated as 
 her block slided along and finally rested upon number 
 ten. My partner, however, adroitly drove against her 
 block with such force as to send it to keep company 
 with mine. Last came the Englishman, and with per- 
 fect confidence he made his thrust. A burst of laugh- 
 ter from the lookers-on announced another failure, and 
 sure enough the detestable block had chosen to stop 
 upon the minus ten. Thus the first round closed with 
 twenty in our favor. By and by, we learned to cal- 
 culate the effect of the boat's movements, the friction 
 of the deck and the amount of muscular energy re- 
 quired in order to reach the best numbers. Simple as 
 this game seems, it is really a very attractive relief 
 from the monotony of eating and breathing. 
 
 June 10th. — My shoulder feels to-day the efiect of 
 yesterday's exercise at shufile board. Miss Keill 
 started a new diversion, to-day, in the shape of an 
 autograph album. Everybody who hasn't a regular 
 
28 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 album has consecrated two or three pages of his diary, 
 or two or three loose bits of writing paper, to this pur- 
 pose. I have even the Captain's name, «* Archibald 
 Campbell. " Good name, isn't it? He says he is dis- 
 tantly, related to Alexander Campbell, but he knows far 
 better the articles of the Presbyterian Confession than 
 the simple doctrine of the " Reformer. " 
 
 Portions of a wreck have been passing for the last 
 hour: mattresses, doors, broken timbers, etc. There 
 are also bales of hay, the presence of which, the sail- 
 ors say, betokens a coasting vessel. Since these bales 
 are still floating it can not have been more then twen- 
 ty four hours since the accident occurred. Captain at- 
 tributes the disaster to icebergs, which are to be 
 encountered in this region. 
 
 June 11th. — You must not complain, if you find 
 this day's record brief and hard to decipher. It is one 
 of the roughest days we have had yet. One minute, 
 my paper, ink-stand, the table itself, threaten to pre- 
 cipitate themselves into my lap, the next, I am clutch- 
 ing them desperately, to prevent their taking leave in 
 an opposite direction. Kate has made a great hole in 
 our pile of lemons, and I thought it not unwise to 
 share a small one with her. We can't walk on deck ; 
 for, every once in a while, there comes a tremendous 
 lurch, sufficient to trip a thorough-bred sailor. The 
 first mate says a captain of his acquaintance was taken 
 overboard and lost in that way. 
 
 The gentlemen in the smoking-room are unusually 
 garrulous. Above all the noise of the storm, come from 
 
LETTER ONE. 29 
 
 thence the most uproarous shouts of laughter ; and the 
 frequent clink of glasses explains the source of such 
 untimely merriment. Father C. is most boisterous of 
 the party, and, at every outburst, you may know he 
 has swept the card-table of its last sixpence. There 
 is one among them, however, whose voice never rings 
 out in open-hearted jollity ; his very smile is but a 
 supercilious curl of the lip, which chills out of the ob- 
 server every joyous impulse. Erect and motionless, 
 save the muscles which raise and depress his goggle 
 eyes, he watches with assumed indifference the cards in 
 the hand of his opponent. He doesn't care to play, 
 like Father C, with a whole circle of jolly fellows; 
 but flatters the half fledged Englishman with his un- 
 divided attention. One day the latter is chuckling 
 over his success, the next the wily gambler displays a 
 handful of English coins. He is a Louisianian, but of 
 Italian origin, and I think he has inherited the cunning 
 of that southern race. Miss P. and I have seen a great 
 deal of him, for when he grows weary of the smoking- 
 room, he comes down to the saloon for a talk with us. 
 His tones are measured always, and in quoting poetry 
 he tries to throw into them a melting sweetness, but I 
 feel through it all that there is no heart in it. He 
 has a finely cultivated mind, but his heart is barren of 
 warm, sympathetic emotions. He has traveled much 
 in Europe, speaks several languages ; in fact, has an 
 experimental knowledge of almost everything, except, 
 perhaps, how to be good. He told us yesterday how 
 he once *' played o:ff " on a young lady who made a 
 
30 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 false pretense of appreciating Italian poetry. Assum- 
 ing a sentimental air, he repeated to her a musical 
 passage from Dante. The young lady clasped her 
 hands, leaned forward in seeming ecstasy, and, at the 
 close, exclaimed, — 
 
 *' Ah ! how true that is. *' 
 
 *' Yes, " replied the Italian, *' and it is as true to- 
 day as when first written by the poet. " It was simply 
 a statement in metrical lines of the dry fact that Dante 
 was born at the mouth of the Po. 
 
 June 14th, — Just after I ceased writing Saturday, B. 
 (the Englishman) came up to me and Miss Pickrell 
 with the exclamation, — 
 
 "I've been completely skinned. When I get to 
 Moville, I shall have to telegraph to my brother-in- 
 law for money enough to take me home." 
 
 Poor fellow I I pity him ; for though he is vain and 
 self-complaisant, he is a mere youth just yielding him- 
 self to the allurements of the gaming-table. 
 
 We had, Saturday evening after tea, an impromptu 
 concert. Our walking New Zealander was unani- 
 mously called to the chair, and, in his asthmatic tones, 
 he bade us come to order. First on the programme 
 was Mrs. W., a deaf lady, who could not hear a note 
 of the Germanic strains of her overture. She is among 
 the notables. We all pitied her affliction, and at first 
 tried to entertain her; but it is so difficult to make her 
 understand, she now complains of lack of attention. 
 She has been twice married and is now a widow of five 
 and thirty. She is on her tenth visit to Scotland — 
 
LETTER ONE. 31 
 
 not that she likes Scotland, she hates it. She hates 
 America; she hates the ocean; she hates this steamer 
 with its captain, its crew, and its passengers; and 
 doubtless, she hates herself as the most unamiable 
 thing aboard. She has, however, taken a fancy to 
 "Adam." He was standing with me in the door 
 awhile ago when she began a solitary promenade back 
 and forth, turning upon us each time a spiteful glance. 
 Finally stopping, she touched Adam's arm and said in 
 a shrill undertone : — 
 
 " I'm independent — I need neither help nor escori.^' 
 This hint had so much of command in it, that 
 *'Adam" fled precipitately. So much for our first 
 performer. 
 
 Mr. Cowan, from Toronto, Canada, was next called 
 out, and filled the saloon with echos of *' Scotland 
 Yet." Next came my mite, the reading of Hood's 
 " Number One." It was received with applause and has 
 even won for me the nick-name of "Number One." 
 " Father M." rendered with penetrating pathos " The 
 Grave of Napoleon." After this, songs and instru- 
 mental music followed in succession, till Mr. C. read 
 from the programme, " My Experience in an Austra- 
 lian Stage-coach, by Adam." " Adam ! Adam ! " came 
 from all parts of the room, but no Adam answered. 
 He didn't know that his name was on the programme, 
 so Capt. C. went out to find him. He came in all 
 blushing, running his fingers through his bushy hair, 
 looking every direction at once — in fact, appearing 
 embarrassment personified. 
 
32 
 
 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 *' Well, ladies and gentlemen, I did not know I 
 was wanted, you see," he began, " It 'pears 
 you want to hear the story I was tellin' yesther- 
 day in the companion-way. It was about once 
 when I was over yonder in * Straly.' You see, 
 I would be a goin' from B. to C, so I take the 
 best seat in the coach, for I was the first to apply. 
 When we get ready to start it 'pears that a woman 
 hadn't no seat left her, but one outside by the driver. 
 I couldn't stand that, so I gives her my good place 
 and takes hers. After awhile we comes to one of 
 them muddy places in the road, and tight sticks our 
 wheels, the horses don't move another foot. Our 
 driver gets out two ropes, fastens theni to the coach 
 and makes the last man get out to help the horses. 
 We wuz pullin' away purty well, we thought, when the 
 woman raises the window with a bang, pops her head 
 out and screams at us; ' Pull away there, you 
 wretches, I want to get home:' Now, I couldn't stand 
 this, after givin' her my good seat, too. I throws 
 down the rope, and says I, ' I don't pull another lick 
 till that woman gets out here to help.' And I made 
 her get out in the mud and take the rope in front of 
 me where I made her pull, I did. So you see ladies, 
 scoldin' women sometimes gets paid for their fuss." 
 *' Adam " took his seat amidst a universal clapping of 
 hands and stamping of feet. A vote of thanks to the 
 captain and crew formaking our voyage so delightful, 
 was now proposed, and met with a hearty response 
 from all. "Auld Lang Syne," "God Save the 
 
LETTER ONE, 33 
 
 Queen,'* and " Star Spangled Banner," were partici- 
 pated in by every voice and heart. 
 
 It was very stormy all day Sunday, the waves roll- 
 ing so high as to wash the deck every few minutes. 
 As night came on it grew more and more tumultuous, 
 so that after retiring we found it impossible to lie still 
 in the berth. First you were taken up and pitched 
 against the wall on one side, next the attack would come 
 in an opposite direction, cutting the other upon the rail- 
 ing. I was afraid to go to sleep, last in- one of these 
 involuntary gymnastic performances, I should take 
 flight from my eyrie to the floor of the hall. At last, 
 Kate proposed -to take me into the lower berth beside 
 herself. We were so tightly packed in now that we 
 couldn't tumble out, but we were as far as ever from 
 sleep. We experienced no sense of fear, but the whole 
 hall was in a commotion. The stewardess was trying 
 to calm the fears of the ladies, but it was almost one 
 o'clock, and day was beginning to dawn, when the 
 noise within, in common with the fury of the waves 
 without, began to subside. The next thing of which 
 I was conscious was V. calling me to come aloft to 
 behold the grandeur of the raging waters. I begged 
 to be excused ; the experience of the night had ren- 
 dered me incapable of appreciating the sublime, left 
 me fit only to lie there stupid and overcome with fa- 
 tigue till the breakfast bell sounded upon our ears a 
 startling peal. 
 
 This afternoon Captain C. fastened to the rigging a 
 pair of balances, then attached to them a short swing 
 
 3 
 
34 ATLANTIC OCEAN". 
 
 in which we could sit while he determined our respect- 
 ive weights. Despite our frequent and hearty meals, 
 the sea air has taken from each several pounds of 
 flesh. 
 
 June 15th. — At noon to-day, while writing a letter 
 in the cabin, there reached me the shout of " Land, 
 ho!" as a dim speck in the distance had been pro- 
 nounced Ireland. I kept on though, till the letter- was 
 finished, and it is now two o'clock and we can per- 
 ceive the greenness of the shore to our right. To the 
 left, too, we just now detected a white spot, which the 
 glass enlarges into a light-house surrounded by a wall. 
 It is amusing to witness the enthusiasm of our Irish 
 friends. Every one has doffed his sea clothes, and 
 now appears in a brand new suit with a plug hat. Mr. 
 S. smilingly lets me know that he must leave us at 
 *' Derry," and hopes I will send him cards when I get 
 married. Poor man ! his trials are nearly over. In 
 his boyhood's home will come no reminder of the 
 ginger ale on which he staked his honor and lost, no 
 torturing reference to the borrowed sixpence which he 
 will not repay to Father C, no dark threats that his 
 white beaver must pay the forfeit for his littleness. 
 "California," too, may henceforth wear his mottled 
 buttons in peace, or, if he chooses, to put on his linen suit 
 and straw hat in November weather. No longer need 
 he be exasperated at the disputes of Miss Keill and the 
 old widow over the future possession of his part of the 
 Pacific slope with its orange groves. Old Mr. Kelly 
 smiles feebly from beneath his skullcap, in the vain 
 
LETTER ONE. 35 
 
 attempt to look joung again, in the presence of what, 
 fifty years ago, were scenes familiar to his eyes. He 
 has come to receive an inheritance of several thousand 
 pounds here in Ireland ; but, if he is a good man, and 
 he seeems to be, he will, ere long, enter upon a richer 
 reward for " crossing the waters. ' ' The late Mr. Dunn, 
 so called for his uniform tardiness at meals, is, for 
 once, on time, and is feasting his eyes upon this glimpse 
 of his native land. 
 
 Here we are, right upon Tory Island, which stretches 
 out into a flat, but rock-bound cape on the further ex- 
 tremity of which is the light-house. Towards the 
 center it rises into knolls on which vegetables are grow- 
 ing for the occupants of the thatch-covered cottages 
 clustered into a village below. These islanders think 
 of other than physical wants, however, for the spire 
 of a neat little church adorns the humble village. 
 We're passing now between the island and the main- 
 land, and the coast of the former has grown gradually 
 more rugged till here it rises perpendicularly from the 
 water to the height of several hundred feet. This 
 bluff is softened by a velvety covering of verdure, and 
 upon its summit the venturesome goat and sheep has 
 found an evening meal. There goes the tea-bell I 
 
 We're on deck ao;ain and Mr. Cowan is shouting; 
 
 *' Moville I and the pilot is getting on board — yes, 
 and yonder is the « tug ' to take you on to Derry, 
 Miss P." 
 
 "The rocky coast of Ireland requires care- 
 ful navigation and our pilot is to remain on board till 
 
36 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 we shall be once more beyond the reach of its breakers. 
 Ugh! what a dreary looking affair is that " tug " in 
 contrast with our ten days' home, the neat Elysia; 
 how dismal are " Ireland's tears, " as Mr. C. calls the 
 drizzling rain. The " tug " has drawn up along side 
 now, and one trunk after another slides down the gang- 
 way. We must begin the good-bys. The Englishman 
 and Italian seem determined to cling till the last to 
 Miss P. " The latter assures her he should consider 
 himself "utterly busted," if he had to ride eight- 
 een miles in that beautiful ( !) cabin. She feels blue,- 
 I know, but bravely keeps up a cheerful appearance. 
 Father M. is first to try the dreaded cabin, but here he 
 is on top again. 
 
 *' What's the matter, Father? "some one inquires. 
 
 "It's worse than the Black Hole of Calcutta," 
 was the response. 
 
 "Sing Killarney, " tauntingly shouted Brother, and 
 for the last time. Father M., standing there in the 
 rain, sang to us the strains so endeared tons all. 
 
 "This is injustice to America and Canada," 
 broke in the stentorian voice of Father C, as 
 he returned from a survey of the " tug's " accommo- 
 dations ; but, a moment after he was good-humor- 
 edly throwing his hat in air, as he joined in the 
 three times three uttered as a farewell by the whole 
 party. Miss P. threw us a kiss, and vanished be- 
 low and that's the last I know of her trip to 
 Europe ; but I wish her the pleasant time she merits. 
 
LETTER ONE. 37 
 
 June 16th. — It was nearly nine o'clock yesterday 
 evening when our friends left, and the rest of us re- 
 paired to the saloon. We had intended to have a good 
 time, but the room had such a deserted air, the music 
 was so poor without Father M., that we all settled into 
 sober silence. About ten, we went up to see the effect 
 of moonlight upon the water. We were just finding 
 our way out of Loch Foyle, and passing again the 
 light-houses, villages, ivy-mantled castles, and cross- 
 surmounted churches of this northern coast of Ireland. 
 In the imperfect light of the moon, the rugged banks 
 of earth united with the horizon clouds, thus exaggera- 
 ting hills into mountains. 
 
 Going below once more the Italian offered to enter- 
 tain us by reading to us one of his "Letters from 
 Abroad," which he had cut from a New Orleans paper 
 and brought for the purpose, It was about a visit to 
 the Paris Catacombs, and he had hardly begun when he 
 felt something pulling at the carpet under the table. 
 
 "What in the name of reason is that I " he exclaimed 
 and read a little further. 
 
 " Little boy, if you don't mind I'll put my foot 
 on your fingers in a way you won't like," was the 
 next parenthesis. 
 
 Now the steward began dismantling the table, 
 trying to pull the cloth from under DaPonte's elbows. 
 
 " What's going on down here to-night ! These fel- 
 lows'll be the death o' me yet," and on he read as if 
 he didn't know he was in the way. 
 
38 THE CLYDE. 
 
 At this the steward angrily seized the bell and rang 
 us to our rooms, thus giving him a chance to get the 
 saloon into landing order. 
 
 This morning V.'s voice was the first thing I heard. 
 
 " Get up ; we're entering the Frith of Clyde, and you 
 are missing the most beautiful scenery I ever beheld." 
 
 Yawning, rubbing my eyes, getting up, and dressing 
 leisurely, I at last went up stairs, to find that the 
 enthusiastic among us had been up since two or three 
 o'clock. I do not intend to dull the edge of my 
 appreciation by the neglect of needed rest. I had 
 merely time to learn that theverdant, but treeless, shore 
 to our left was the Isle of Bute, when we were called 
 to breakfast. While eating, anchors were cast in 
 Greenock Bay to wait for the tide to bear us up the 
 river. The city of Greenock fringes on three sides 
 the pellucid waters of the bay; we were in the mid§t 
 of anchored vessels, waiting, like ourselves, for the 
 coming tide; lively little ferry steamers plied back 
 and forth between Greenock and the opposite burgh. 
 About eight the tide was in, and the tug Hotspur, 
 after much driving around our bow, finally threw us 
 a rope and offered to tug us out to the channel ; the 
 Flying Arrow attached to our stern, aided in this 
 undertaking. In fact, they remained our faithful 
 companions all the way to Glasgow. I got a place 
 near the Captain and he pointed out for us the places 
 of interest on either side. At very short intervals we 
 came upon dock-vards, where were ships in every stage 
 of development. In one only the long, narrow, iron keel 
 
LETTER ONE. 39 
 
 was in place; the second had, fastened to this back- 
 bone, the ribs which keep together the body of the 
 ship ; a third had these ribs partially covered with the 
 flat iron slabs, so cut as to fit the form of the keel; 
 while yet a fourth lacked only the rigging to render it 
 fit for launching. Among these ship-yards was the 
 Napier, where the Alabama was built, hence where all 
 the difficulties pertaining thereto had an origin. 
 
 " There's old Dumbarton Castle," said the Captain, 
 as a steep promontory appeared on our left. "The 
 sword of Sir William Wallace is still preserved there, 
 and it is so long, they say, that no man of modern 
 times can, when it is buckled around him, draw it from 
 its sheath." 
 
 A few pieces of cannon, still frowning over the bat- 
 tlements, remind one of the warlike days of the heroic 
 Scottish chiefs ; but an omnibus and an unguarded 
 landing for boats at the base, greatly detract from the 
 romantic associations of the spot. 
 
 Beyond this castle, the river begins to grow narrow 
 and one is continually meeting the dirty little steamers 
 engaged in dredging out the channel. This is done by 
 means of a patent chain of buckets revolving over a 
 wheel. They fill themselves with mud, then ascend 
 an inclined plane, and pour their contents into a 
 huge receptacle at the top. This dissolved earth is 
 taken and converted into fields all along the banks, 
 which are tended with care and made to produce an 
 abundance of oats, peas, beans, or barley. I observed, 
 at short intervals, on either side now, in large capitals. 
 
40 TIIK CLYDE. 
 
 the sign, '* Dead Slow," observed too, that theElysia 
 was carefully heeding the injunction. 
 
 *' Why need we move so slowly, Captain? " I in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Should we put on more steam," said he, "the 
 waves would break through the walls of the quay, wash 
 off the timber for ship-building, and overflow all those 
 gardens." 
 
 We scarcely moved, and scarcely cared to move, for 
 we knew the friendships so hastily ripened must be 
 but too soon lost forever. We had dreaded to begin 
 the voyage, but it was with sincere regret we ap- 
 proached its end. 
 
 The sun had lighted us all the way up the Clyde, but 
 as the smoke of Glasgow came in view, there was pre- 
 sented every appearance of rain. 
 
 " You must clear the hurricane deck !" shouted the 
 commander, and we instantly obeyed. 
 
 It was like breaking up house-keeping, everything 
 was in such commotion. As soon as we were all down, 
 the steps connecting this with the lower deck were 
 removed, after which Mr. Cowan remembered that he 
 had left something up there. He climbed upon a piece 
 of machinery to look, when suddenly the wheel began 
 to move and it was only by a quick leap he saved 
 himself from a broken limb. This was our nearest 
 approach to an accident during the journey, except 
 when, a few hours before, the impetuous Hotspur had 
 grounded us, thus giving herself an excuse for some 
 hard work. I forgot to say we learned at Moville 
 
LETTER TWO. 41 
 
 more particulars of the wreck. It was the Vicks- 
 burg, sailing from Quebec with eighty on board, of 
 whom only five had been rescued. 
 
 Omitting details in regard to landing, final farewells 
 and custom-house trials, I will close for the present. 
 We are at the Waverly Temperance Hotel on Buchanan 
 Street, Glasgow, but have as yet seen little of the city 
 except the tile roofs which are visible from this third- 
 story window. Letters addressed in care of Heidel- 
 back, Gans & Co., Berlin, Prussia, will reach us and 
 be most welcome. Yours, 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Glasgow, June 16, 1875. 
 Dear Brother South .• 
 
 iTT HAVE just mailed my first letter to President, a 
 ^ part of which you will find published in the Apos- 
 tolic Times. We are going in a few minutes to visit 
 the Cathedral, the pride of Glasgow, but I wish to tell 
 you what occurred at the dinner-table awhile ago. A 
 Scotchman sitting near me said to another : — 
 
 ** I think of going over to America, to that Exhib- 
 tion next spring. ' ' 
 
42 GLASGOW. 
 
 *' You do? Ah I Then you'll find use for all your 
 descriptive talent," was the response. 
 
 " Oh 1 1 suppose there will be little that is new — 
 mainly copies of what we have already seen at Paris 
 and Vienna." 
 
 "Well, it's wonderful what speakers the Amer- 
 icans are. Their language is as boundless as their 
 country." 
 
 "Yes, do you know Mr. L., a member of my 
 staff ? He has been over there, and affects their 
 style of expression. A foreigner was arrested for some 
 misdemeanor, and pleaded at his trial that he was 
 a stranger ignorant of the law. This plea amounted 
 to nothing. Said the Yankeefied judge : ' You are a 
 stranger, and we'll take you in for thirty days.' 
 
 This conversation was interrupted by the entrance of 
 a gentleman, whom our hostrose to greet, and direct to 
 a room. 
 
 " He has been seven months in America," ex- 
 plained the landlord, after he was reseated. " He 
 was with his wife in the mountains for her health — in 
 Virginia — that's where the mountains are ; I believe ? " 
 said he, with a look of inquiry towards Kate. She 
 told him there are mountains in Virginia, but much 
 higher ones in other States. 
 
 June 17th — We had to buy umbrellas yesterday the 
 first thing. No matter if the sun is shining, people 
 carry umbrellas all the same, for it can cloud up and 
 rain in less than five minutes. We didn't stop for 
 
LETTER TWO. 43 
 
 showers, though, but sheltered by our freshly pur- 
 chased umbrellas, set out, about four p. m.,for the 
 Cathedral. Rather late to begin a day's work, you 
 may think, but remember daylight lasts here till nine 
 o'clock. 
 
 We entered the Cathedral at the south side, the 
 great folding doors on the west being closed. The 
 light, softened by the stained glass of the windows, 
 falls gratefully upon the eye, and renders looking 
 around a luxury. These bright windows have not 
 upon them the antiquity which has mottled the rest of 
 the structure. I see from their inscriptions that many 
 of them are memorial offerings from persons who 
 are still living. It is easy for a Bible-reader to inter- 
 pret the scenes portrayed on the glass : here are Adam 
 and Eve, driven weeping from the garden ; here is 
 Gideon with his picked men, each armed with his 
 candle and pitcher ; here is the lovely Euth gleaning 
 in the field of Boaz ; here is the triumphant David, and 
 further on the prophets in gorgeous array. Below 
 the windows are monumental tablets, and groups in 
 bronze or marble commemorating brave deeds of civic 
 or martial heroes. Their dust is beneath the pave- 
 ment on which we tread, but the inscriptions tell that 
 so long as they had life they allowed themselves 
 trampled under foot by no man. Following these 
 pictures and epitaphs, one reaches the entrance to 
 another apartment, but before ascending the steps to 
 it, one naturally turns to see how far he has come. 
 Oh ! it is a long way back to that western door, and 
 
44 GLASGOW. 
 
 wide aisles are those formed by the seven pairs of 
 clustered columns which divide the nave. More than 
 half a hundred steps would be required to reach the 
 open air. 
 
 But what is this next apartment ? Ah I here are 
 cushioned seats for the devout worshiper, here a gallery 
 right over the entrance for the choir, and yonder in 
 the center is a rostrum with a pulpit to be reached by 
 a short flight of steps. Surely, the Gospel in its 
 purity ought to be proclaimed from the desk, for, from 
 the painted window just behind, Mathew,Mark, Luke, 
 and John, large as life, are looking down upon the 
 assembly with seeming approbation. Kate and brother 
 have gone into the chapel of *' Our Lady, " so-called 
 by the worshipers of the Virgin, to whom this pile 
 belonged before it fell into the hands of the Presbyte- 
 rians. 
 
 The next door to the left admits us to the Chapter 
 House, where the cushionless seats around the walls 
 appear as stately and unyielding as I imagine the digni- 
 taries for whom they are intended. 
 
 Returning once more to the nave, we met our New 
 Zealand friend and his wife. 
 
 " Have you seen the crypts yet?" he inquired. 
 
 We answered in the negative, so the old man said : 
 
 "Susie, you go show them St. Mungo'stomb, and 
 everything. I'll wait here, for I am out of breath. " 
 
 She turned with us to a low door-way at the 
 right of the choir steps. Gradually we descend, 
 and gradually the daylight fades, till only the 
 
LETTER TWO. 45 
 
 faintest glimmer lights the path through the forest 
 of low, gray, clustered columns. Surely^ I have been 
 here before ! Ah ! yes, 'twas by the hand of Scott I 
 was led. Here, Francis Osbaldistone found the prayer- 
 ful assembly, and we understand now the awe which 
 filled him as he tried in vain to penetrate the surround- 
 ing gloom. Involuntarily we listen to catch the 
 solemn echoes of a humble prayer ; we expect behind 
 each column to find some kneeling worshiper. But no, 
 the only occupants now are the silent dead. 'Tis an 
 honor to rest in the cold, damp shades of this place, 
 but I should prefer some bright -green spot out in the 
 sunlight to mingling my dust with that which has been 
 molding here for centuries. To be sure, those old stone 
 sarcophagi, scooped out by hands whose last labor was 
 performed twelve hundred years ago, are interesting rel- 
 ics ; but who knows aught now of the human clay which 
 they enshrined? But there is no time for the tourist to 
 moralize. There is the Necropolis to be visited. The 
 yard of the Cathedral is itself a city of the dead, but 
 on the hill beyond is the modern cemetery. Forty 
 years ago this was but a rugged hill with no great 
 marks of beauty, but at the expense of the Glasgow 
 merchants, it has been cut into thickly turfed terraces, 
 reached by well graveled paths. With its numberless 
 marble shafts and slabs of reddish granite, it makes a 
 beautiful background for the Cathedral. At the gate 
 we were greeted by a long lank specimen of humanity 
 emitting with each breath the fumes of Scotch whisky, 
 and looking, in his linen clothes, as if some such inter- 
 
4G GLASGOW. 
 
 nal warmth might be needed. He invited us into his 
 office to register our names, and, merely to entertain 
 us ( !), he showed us a number of stereoscopic views 
 of the city, causually remarking that he was willing to 
 part with them for a shilling each. Released at last 
 from the old man, we crossed the bridge over the 
 romantic Molindinar Burn, and entered The Necropolis. 
 Winding around the hill, pausing now and then to 
 pluck a modest daisy, ascending by steps from one 
 terrace to the next, we stood at last on the very top, 
 just in the shadow of the tallest monument. We 
 could see from below, that it was a fluted column with a 
 square base and surmounted by a full length statute. 
 Now we could read the inscriptions on the four sides 
 of the base, and learn that in this marble offering 
 Glasgow would do honor to the stern reformer, John 
 Knox. We had thought to get a fine view from this 
 elevated site, but so enveloped was everything in the 
 smoke belched forth from various factories, that 
 house roofs could not be distinguished from hill-sides. 
 From the Necropolis we directed our steps to St. 
 George's Square. This square is near the center of 
 the city and is surrounded by some handsome build- 
 ings, among others Queen's Hotel. I looked to see if 
 I could catch a glimpse of any of our Atlantic friends, 
 and sure enough there was, shining through the win- 
 dow, the bald crown of the Italian's head, while stand- 
 ing beside him appeared the little Englishman. No 
 fear that the Italian will loose sight of B. till that 
 debt of honor is paid. St. George's Square is cut up 
 
LETTER TWO. 47 
 
 into eight grassy plots, and is ornamented by a num- 
 ber of statues; Queen Yictoria and Prince Albert on 
 horseback ; Walter Scott at the top of an eighty foot 
 column; Lord Clyde standing very erect as if mutely 
 asserting superiority ; Sir John Moore, whose sweet 
 face makes you regret he could find no belter burial 
 place than the foe-trodden battle field ; Watts, on the 
 northwest corner, looking almost philosopher enough 
 to apply a motive power to his own stony limbs. iSo 
 much for our first afternoon on European soil. 
 
 June 18th. — -I suppose now I ought to tell you of 
 our visit yesterday to the Royal Exchange, to a large 
 book store, and to Kelvin Grove Park ; but I have 
 had, to-day, such a delightful excursion to the country, 
 I do not feel like binding my spirit now within narrow 
 city limits. We decided last night that, this morning 
 at seven, we must take the cars, so, after a stout 
 breakfast of beefsteak and coffee, we repaired to the 
 station. On the road, a Scotchman, who shared with 
 us our car-box, pointed out Stirling Castle on the left 
 and a monument to William Wallace to the right. The 
 castle was too far away for us to distinguish the win- 
 dow out of which Douglas was thrown by James II., 
 but there was the precipice down which he must have 
 fallen. At Callander, fourteen miles from Glasgow, 
 we found a coach in waiting, but it seemed to me al- 
 ready full. 
 
 "Room for three more," said the coachman. 
 " Right here, Miss," and, climbing a ladder, I depos- 
 ited myself beside a strange lady, while Kate and 
 
48 TROSSACHS. 
 
 Brother were several seats in front. My neighbor 
 proved to be an English lady, who, for the present, 
 is stopping near Callander, that her invalid daughter 
 may enjoy the health-giving Scottish air. They were 
 agreeable companions, but it would have taken very 
 disagreeable ones to destroy the charm of our sur- 
 roundings. Beside our road, in a channel so even and 
 so paved with pebbles as to seem a work of art, 
 rushed the Leny River. At least they call it a river, 
 but in our country where our idea of a river is asso- 
 ciated with such streams as the Mississippi and Ohio, 
 we would call it a creek. It made many a lovely turn 
 in the valley to our left, sparkling throughout its 
 course in the June day sun. On our right rose Ben 
 Ledi (Hill of God), its summit once a place of Druid- 
 ical worship. A curious stone, very large, but joined 
 by a slender support to the mountain, crowns the 
 highest point. *' Sampson's Putting Stone," read Dr. 
 B. from his book, and surely Sampson must have 
 placed it there, for no ordinary man could do it. Ere 
 long we came upon the source of the Leny's rippling 
 tide. 
 
 . *' This is Loch Vennacher and yonder is the Inver- 
 trossachs — just over the lake there, on that rise of 
 ground half hidden by the trees. That's where her 
 Majesty spent the summer of 1869, in fact, since the 
 death of Prince Albert, she is very partial to this quiet 
 retreat. He loved Scotland, and she loves it for his 
 sake. The English dislike for her to be absent from 
 their midst, for it takes from them the gayeties of the 
 
LETTER TWO. 49 
 
 court. But it is only pleasure she neglects, not 
 duty." 
 
 Such were the remarks of my English friend, as we 
 skirted, for five miles, the transparent lake. This 
 conversation brought us to a green valley which we 
 recognized as Lannick Mead, the mustering place of 
 Clan Alpine when summoned by Rhoderic Dhu. 
 
 " I wonder if that is the last remnant of the clan?" 
 was our comment, as we caught sight of a , solitary 
 Highlander on the green. 
 
 It was the first we had seen of the Highland costume. 
 The material of his suit was a coarse brown goods in-0 
 stead of the plaid. To a loose blouse waist was fas- 
 tened a short full side-plaited skirt which left the knee 
 quite bare, for the stockings terminate below it. 
 
 " The Russians, at the battle of Sevastopol, mistook 
 the Highland regiment for the wives of the British 
 soldiers, but they soon found they were not fighting 
 with women," said Dr. Bush. 
 
 "But what says our guide of that cluster of low, 
 straw-thatched habitations yonder?" 
 
 " Duncraggan Huts, eh? The place where the mes- 
 senger of the fiery cross found them mourning over 
 the lost Duncan, whose youthful son, dashing away 
 the tears, sped forth on the mission for which his sire 
 was no longer fit." 
 
 Crossing the " Brig o' Turk " over Glenfinlas Water, 
 whose source is lost in the dim aisle of trees to our 
 right, we catch a glimpse of Loch Archray, reflecting 
 4 
 
50 TROSSACHS. 
 
 from its placid depths the little church which marks 
 the footprint of some evangelist. 
 
 Now a gothic structure of gray stone meets the eye, 
 its pointed towers standing out sharp against its back- 
 ground of heath-covered mountains. We wish now 
 that we had arranged affairs to stay over night at this 
 neat hotel and explore the vicinity ; but we are allowed 
 only two minutes' delay previous to entering the narrow 
 twilight defile leading to Loch Katrine. How inspir- 
 ing must have been that pathless wild, when first 
 traced by the lonely Fitz James. He knew not 
 whither his way was tending, and no more did we, 
 till a gleam of light far ahead was pronounced the ver- 
 itable Loch Katrine. Rob Roy was waiting to receive 
 us; so, snatching a bunch of heather and bracken 
 as souvenirs of the spot, we ran along the thatch- 
 covered avenue to the rustic pier, and trusted 
 ourselves to the mercies, not of the freebooter 
 himself, but of the little steamer which bears 
 his name. It seems strange that here, not more 
 than forty miles from the thriving Glasgow, there 
 should exist such a wilderness. But not entirely to 
 the reign of wild romance is this spot left undisturbed; 
 for, on the left bank, appears the aqueduct of the Glas- 
 gow water-works. The city treasury has thus given 
 $3,000,000 for the privilege of partaking daily sweet 
 draughts of mountaindew. But what right has prosaic 
 man to iuvade this home of the Lady of the Lake? 
 Ben A' an stands guard o'er Ellen's Isle; Ben Venne 
 
LETTER TWO. 51 
 
 watches jet the Goblin's Cave in which the Douglas 
 found refuge from James, while Ellen was shielded 
 from the unwelcome love of E-hoderic Dhu. The 
 grotto home on the aisle is gone, but white, as in the 
 days of Scott, still glistens the " silver strand." Ellen 
 herself, in her airy boat, could not have guided us 
 more gently over Katrine's unruffled breast ; but, 
 mayhap, the dip of her oars could have been sweeter 
 music than the creaking which accompanied Rob Roy's 
 movements. So imperceptible was the motion of our 
 little boat, that it scarcely broke the shadows cast by 
 Ben Venue into the lake. Thus we were borne from 
 one end to the other of Loch Katrine, and deposited 
 at Stronachlacher Pier. This pier, with its hotel, 
 marks the beginning of a new part of our journey — 
 the beginning, too, of a new scramble for first seats in 
 the coach. One man, in his haste, leaped over the side 
 of the boat, and narrowly escaped a fall into the 
 water. During this five mile stage, we saw many hills, 
 many scrub cattle, many stone-colored sheep, many 
 heaps of peat ready for winter fuel, a few thatched 
 huts, one garden, twenty feet in diameter, one little 
 Loch Arklet, and the stream which hurries its waters 
 on to Lomond, enough dirty urchins to make orna- 
 mental hangings for the back of our coach. As we 
 neared Inversnaid, we hung for some distance over the 
 edge of a precipice, at whose base the Arklet Water 
 rushes on, leaping from rock to rock and crag to crag, 
 till with one last mighty effort it plunges headlong 
 over a steep ledge into the lake. 
 
52 TROSSACHS. 
 
 The prince of Scotch outlaws had borne us over 
 Loch Katrine, and now the '' Prince of Wales " waited 
 till our dinner was eaten that he might display to us 
 the rival charms of Loch Lomond. This is called the 
 queen of Scotch lakes, but I was almost too weary to 
 appreciate it. Ben Lomond? Oh lyes; I remember 
 now; it was in my Fourth Reader, that story of the 
 Ben Lomond horse, which scaled the rugged side of 
 this mountain to find once more the mountain home 
 from which he had been sold. Well, really, I believe 
 there is, to me, more poetry in this association with 
 my childhood, than in the beautifully jingling lines of 
 Scott. Ben Voirlich rises 3,092 feet above us, adding 
 much to the grandeur of the scene; Rob Roy's Cave 
 furnishes the historic interest, as there Bruce prepared 
 himself for his battle with McDougal; the occupied 
 castles on either bank, and the neat hotels at every 
 pier, connect the lake with the realities of Scot- 
 land's present. Driven down to the cabin by the dis- 
 agreeable wind, we saw there an elegant Sevres vase, 
 presented to the captain by the Empress Eugenie, as a 
 token of her gratitude for his kind treatment of her 
 when she was making the tour of the lakes. At Bal- 
 lock, twenty miles from Inversnaid, we once more 
 exchanged boat for cars, and reached the hotel here at 
 five p. m. 
 
 Perhaps you'll think me partial to President, as I 
 have written to him at much greater length; but I am 
 thus brief that I may make sure of to-morrow's 
 steamer. Eudoka. 
 
LETTER THEEE. 53 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Leith, June 23, 1875, 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 "^S^^T^ have just come aboard the North Star bound 
 ^^V"^ for Hamburg, but as there is yet an hour before 
 time to start I shall employ the interval in giving you 
 some account of our proceedings since leaving Glasgow. 
 On Saturday, June 29th, about three p. m., our queer- 
 looking European cars whistled down brakes in front 
 of East Prince's Street Gardens, Edinboro, and in a 
 few minutes thereafter our ba2;2;ao;e was beino; trundled 
 along in front of us, by a man who had quietly and 
 politely proffered the use of his hand-cart for that 
 purpose. Before we had gone half of the three squares 
 between depot and hotel, we were greeted by a shower. 
 *' Glasgow the second ! " was the mental ejaculation 
 of each one, as we raised our now omnipresent 
 umbrellas. Happy to say, however, this judgment was 
 hasty; we have seen no rain since, and very little 
 smoke. A single glance from our front window up 
 and down Prince's Street revealed the fact that we were 
 in a city of magnificent monuments, handsome modern 
 palaces, and refreshing gardens. Overlooking the city 
 from an elevation to the right appeared old Edinboro 
 
54 . EDINBORO. 
 
 Castle. The gray stone of its walls was hidden in a mantle 
 of greenest ivy, and above this covering we saw a line 
 of scarlet, which, at a distance, we took to be poppies ; 
 but by a glass these supposed wild flowers were mag- 
 nified into the first *' Red Coats" we had seen — 
 descendants of those same fellows who, more than the 
 " Red Skins," hindered the first steps of our country's 
 progress. Strange that we could look upon them with 
 no feeling of bitterness in our hearts ; but magna- 
 nimity forbids the victor to cherish any but feelings of 
 forgiveness toward the conquered. But I know what it 
 is that makes us love the people of Great Britain — I am 
 reminded of it by the monument to Sir Walter Scott, 
 then between us and those " Red Coats " on that castle 
 wall. English literature is the literature as well, of 
 Americans, and it is this influence which binds us still 
 to the " Mother Country." 
 
 We decided to leave sight-seeing until Monday, to 
 spend that evening in writing up our journals ; to go 
 Sunday to church. Desiring to obtain some knowl- 
 edge of the Scotch Presb^^terians, we were directed to 
 West church to hear Dr. McGregor, one of their ablest 
 ministers. At the vestibule we were told to wait 
 awhile, and we should have seats. Hundreds of regu- 
 lar sitters pushed past us, and yet the usher bade 
 us wait. We grew tired, at length, and, unbidden, 
 joined the stream of persons, and without difficulty the 
 sexton found us a pew. We glanced around at the 
 congregation, but so high were the backs of the seats, 
 it seemed to consist merely of an indefinite number of 
 
LETTER THREE. 55 
 
 heads, while we ourselves felt completely penned in. 
 We were beneath the gallery, so its occupants were 
 visible. " Let us pray, " said a voice above me, and 
 there in front, in a balcony-like pulpit, up even with 
 the gallery, appeared the head, shoulders, and uplifted 
 arms undoubtedly connected with the aerial tones. 
 We all rose and for twenty- five minutes tried to follow 
 him in supplication. After the singing of a psalm, he 
 announced his text: Ps. xxix: 2. From the language: 
 "Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness," he 
 argued that when a congregation was able, it was a 
 duty to erect and consecrate splendid cathedrals to the 
 Lord. He applied the words also to the beautifying 
 the spiritual temple; but his seemingly affected, and 
 truly monotonous, delivery rendered his exhortations 
 far from impressive. After the sermon, came another 
 set of petitions and repetitions. This time he prayed, 
 individually, for every political ofBcer and every ecclesi- 
 astical body in the kingdom. How, in that illy ven- 
 tilated room, and with his two-thousandth part of the 
 small supply of oxygen, he could keep his vocal organs 
 so long in operation, is a mystery to me. I felt glad 
 to get outside and expand my lungs once more. In 
 the afternoon we sought out the Congregationalists, 
 and with better success. In plain and simple language 
 the white-haired minister read and commented upon 
 the passage, "I'm not ashamed of the gospel," etc. 
 Monday morning at ten, we made our way to the 
 National Gallery, the most convenient place of inter- 
 est to which we could have access so early. We wan- 
 
56 EDINBORO. 
 
 dered through the four or five circular rooms, filled 
 with life-size portraits, broad landscapes, plainly de- 
 picted historical, fancy or dramatic scenes ; and neatly 
 carved busts and statues. French and Italian, Scotch 
 and English names were on the list of artists. Of all 
 this medley, however, one little ellipse (its major axis 
 wasn't more than twelve inches) longest held my eye. 
 The design first struck me with its originality ; there 
 was nothing in the execution to destroy the impression. 
 The scene is a humble bare-floored room, furnished 
 with a few chairs and a rude table, on which an antique 
 lamp is burning. A young man, with handsome form, 
 waving locks, and regular profile sits near the table ; 
 on his knee is a beautiful young girl, who with one 
 hand is tracino; the outline of his shadow on the rouojh 
 wall, while with the thumb and finger of the other she 
 holds his chin so that just the right proportion will be 
 given to the features. The ^^ Origin of Painting^' is 
 what David Allen, the artist thus portrays. All other 
 pictures, even a very fine one by Landseer, I must leave 
 unnoticed ; for you must go with me now to Holyrood 
 Palace out at the southeast end of New Edinburgh 
 or Edinboro, as the people here call it. Consulting 
 our map, we found the Canongate to be the main 
 avenue to the palace. Moreover, our guide-book cer- 
 tified that this was formerly the abode of the great and 
 wealthy, and the street over which, in days agone, the 
 beauty and nobility of Scotland were wont to pass. 
 It is said that Scott loved to drive at a funeral pace 
 along this road, and, gazing upon the architectural 
 
LETTER THREE. 57 
 
 remnants of the sixteenth century, recall with delight 
 their historical associations. Had Mr. S. been with us 
 this afternoon, however, and walking, as we were, I 
 think that the present would have occupied even his great 
 Eoind. About every three steps there was a door, and 
 at every door half a dozen dirty-faced children reveled 
 in the filth of the street, while their equally tidy mam- 
 mas watched their sports with the thought: "Oh! 
 would that I were a child again. " Indeed one woman 
 was so overcome she was lying flat upon the pavement 
 surrounded by a group of sympathizing friends. A 
 little further on we overtook a man who seemed to be 
 illustrating Hogarth's line of grace. Suddenly he 
 seemed to perceive us, and as if too full for utterance, 
 attempted to fall into our arms. Failing to recognize 
 him, we stepped aside, and allowed Mother Earth to 
 receive his embrace. By the way, Scotch whisky is 
 as famous here for reducing manJcmd to a level as Old 
 Bourbon at home. 
 
 At length we found ourselves in front of that edifice 
 sacred to the memory of Scotland's past independ- 
 ence. Of course it does not come within the province 
 of these letters to give the history of every place we 
 visit. Taking it for granted that every reader knows 
 or will find out that Holyrood Palace was founded by 
 David I. in 1128, and received additions afterward at 
 the command of James V. and Charles H., I will ask 
 you to contemplate, for a moment, this west front, 
 with a tower on either side jointed by a row of two- 
 story rooms with an entrance in the middle. Going in 
 
58 EDINBORO. 
 
 we procared tickets to the whole palace for a sixpence 
 each. 
 
 " Take the jfirst door to the left of the quad- 
 rangle, go up the steps and you will come to a picture 
 gallery," was the direction given by the ticket agent. 
 
 By quadrangle he meant the court inclosed by the 
 inner walls of the palace into which all the doors 
 opened, thus making the gateway the only means of 
 exit to the street. One De Witt, 1684, painted the 
 one hundred Scottish sovereigns who looked down 
 upon us as we deliberately traversed the three hundred 
 and fifty feet which forms the circuit of the gallery. 
 These pictures are set in as panels along the walls, one 
 full-length portrait alternating with a vertical row of 
 three burets. Of all, Eobert the Bruce, the Jameses, 
 and Mary Stuart are most striking ; the first, for his 
 powerful frame and commanding eye; the second, for 
 their close resemblance in feature and expression ; the 
 last, for her marvelous beauty. Oh ! it was too sad to 
 look upon that fair head and remember that it was so 
 rudely severed from the beautiful body. At the 
 farther extremity of the hall are two double paintings 
 bearing the date of 1484. One of these represents the 
 Holy Trinity — the Father in the form of a healthful, 
 robust, and moderately intellectual-looking Scotch- 
 man; the Son, just as he was taken from the Cross, 
 pale and stiff in death, is held in the Father's arms ; 
 the Holy Spirit, as a dove, nestles between them. 
 Such abominable sacrilege shocked me and marred my 
 enjoyment of the remaining fifty kings. Before leav- 
 
LETTER THEEE. 59 
 
 ing the room, we sat down to get a comprehensive 
 view of it. Once a year it is thrown open for the 
 levees given in honor of the Lord High Commissioner 
 to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland ; 
 and then I suppose those two highly-polished grates, 
 one at each end of the east side, throw out a genial 
 warmth and glow which the forty windows on the 
 west catch up and show to the world without. Now, 
 don't imagine these windows, like those of modern 
 dwellings, extend from ceiling to floor with propor- 
 tional width, for they are high up, narrow, and com- 
 posed of small panes. The smooth, uncarpeted floor 
 must be the delight of dancers, and many a time has 
 it resounded to their merry feet. 
 
 *' Step into this room next," said our guide, *' Lord 
 Dariiley's Audience Chamber." 
 
 On the wall you see three pieces of ancient 
 tapestry, all wrought by hand. The design consists 
 of cupids gathering luscious looking grapes, making 
 soap bubbles, turning somersaults, and performing 
 other antics. The colors are very much faded 
 now, and, but for careful darning, it would not 
 hang together; yet even in its present condition you 
 may imagine how much of elegance it must have 
 given to a room. 
 
 " That," said he, pointing to a handsome portrait, 
 *« is the lady who used to take off people's heads 
 if they didn't suit her. A very nice looking face 
 she has, but she looks at you out of the corners of 
 her eyes — always a bad sign." 
 
60 EDIlSrBORO. 
 
 Sure enough it was bloody Mary, and his comments 
 were quite just. 
 
 "This fire-screen of crimson velvet, embroidered 
 with gold, was the handiwork of Henrietta, wife of 
 Charles I. She wasn't lazy, you see." 
 
 '* What is this piece of furniture?" asked Kate. 
 
 "A table presented to Mary Stuart by Elizabeth. 
 Pity they had not remained friends. Very old it is, 
 but it would bear the weight of a fine goose yet, I dare 
 say. That quaint looking cabinet over there was a 
 gift from Douglas more than three centuries ago." 
 
 Turning to the left, we enter a room built by Charles 
 n., and arrange our hat by the very mirror that once 
 reflected his powdered curls. 
 
 " They do say it makes ladies handsomer to look in 
 that glass," said our guide. 
 
 We looked long and lingeringly, hoping to see the 
 transformation begin ; but alas ! nothing came but dis- 
 appointment. More tapestry adorned these walls, 
 having for its subject Constantine's vision of the 
 Cross, and his subsequent contest with Maxentius. 
 Returning now to the audience chamber and crossing 
 to an opposite door, we enter Lord Darnley's bed- 
 room, which contains among others a portrait of him- 
 self, a tall, gawkish, homely youth, a poor match for 
 the lovely Mary. A door to the right leads to Queen 
 Mary's private stair. The stone steps, hollowed out 
 by innumerable foot-prints, are only wide enough for 
 one person at a time. Up this dark, narrow winding 
 
LETTER THREE. 61 
 
 way went the murderers of Eiccio, and it seemed well 
 fitted to encourage their design. Turning away from 
 this narrow passage, we ascended to Mary's suite by 
 the broader stair-way. The first room is the audience 
 chamber, where the stern and fearless Knox so often 
 reproved her and aroused her anger. The beds, grate, 
 sofa, and chairs are those used by the unfortunate 
 Charles I. The curtains of embossed velvet seem 
 ready to drop to pieces under their own weight ; the 
 spread, of once white silk, ornamented with patches 
 of needlework, in colors, was no doubt magnificent ; 
 but the whole is so defaced by time, it is a more suit- 
 able resting place for rats than royalty. The chairs, 
 whose cushions might have once tempted to repose, 
 are arranged in a row and inclosed by a chain, lest 
 some visitor should inadvertently seat himself upon 
 them and reduce them to atoms. The next apartment 
 is Mary's bed-room, where still remains her bed; her 
 diminutive mirror, which refuses to reflect a homelier 
 face ; her work-box, in which are some specimens of 
 her embroidery ; and a little basket which held the 
 baby-clothes of James VI. Half hidden by the tapes- 
 try is the little door through which the conspirators 
 made their way to the tiny supping-room adjoin- 
 ing, where Riccio was slain. The room which wit- 
 nessed this tragedy is not more than ten feet square; 
 but to banquet in there only her intimate friends were 
 invited. Returning now to the court, we next came 
 upon the royal chapel, the oldest part of the building, 
 
62 EDINBORO. 
 
 and so demolished by time, fire and ignorant architects, 
 that it is but a roofless, altarless ruin. 
 
 *' Beneath that window yonder at the eastern 
 extremity knelt Mary Queen of Scotts to become the 
 bride of Darnley," said the inevitable picture dealer 
 who presided in this realm. 
 
 The ornaments of this window, the massive arch 
 of the western gateway, the altar-like tomb of Vis- 
 count Belhaven, the one remaining row of clustered 
 columns, mutely attest the former magnificence of 
 this ancient place of royal devotions, marriages, and 
 burials. Passing around to the opposite side of the 
 quadrangle, we saw through the window a group tak- 
 ing tea ; for this part of the palace is yet occupied. 
 
 ''Really, I must have something to eat and a 
 moment's rest before going further," said Kate, as 
 we came out. 
 
 *' Very well, let's find a restaurant. Ah ! here's one 
 just across the street." 
 
 Surely so near the palace we ought to find a 
 queenly repast, thought we, as we ordered lunch. 
 Mary's picture hung on the wall, and we exag- 
 gerated into tapestry the plaid flannel covering of a 
 wardrobe in the waiting-room. The tray was finally 
 brought in, and we tried to imagine the stale bread, 
 the wooden egg-cups, the Esau-like butter, the coarse- 
 grained sugar quite in keeping with royal usage. 
 Every glance at the butter revealed some new element 
 of its composition, and called for renewed efibrts to 
 
LETTER THREE. - 63 
 
 repress our laughter ; for we were determined to take 
 everything good-humoredly. Eefreshed by our rest, 
 if not by our tea, we boldly started out in search of 
 new adventures. We followed the Queen's Drive, 
 which extends south of the palace and the adjoining 
 park, south of Holyrood Place, where hundreds of 
 boys assemble to play bail ; past St. Margaret's Well, 
 past St. Anthony's Chapel, then circles the whole 
 cluster of hills of which Arthur's Seat, a huge, rough, 
 barren rock, is the crowning point. We were glad to 
 see at the well a number of the Canongate children, 
 peeping through the grate at the water trickling down. 
 They seemed to enjoy the novelty of the spectacle. 
 The chapel consisted of only one wall, so we didn't go 
 in. Just here there arose a slight difference of opinion 
 between my brother and myself. 
 
 "I tell you. Sis, this road will take us to Arthur's 
 Seat," for we proposed ascending that height. 
 
 " Yes, but the guide book says to go further on to 
 that turn yonder, and I intend to follow the book.'* 
 
 " Very well, I am going this way." 
 
 So I went on alone, occasionally glancing back at 
 them until they were momentarily lost in the valley. 
 I quickened my pace and soon reached the turn, 
 where only a tiny goat-path, and that very steep, 
 led towards the hill-top. However, several persons 
 were in view running down the mountain towards this 
 point ; so I thought I must be right. Up, up, I went, 
 pausing ever and anon to pluck a daisy or a buttercup, 
 and to regain my breath as well. But how now? I've 
 
64 EDINBOEO. 
 
 lost sight of Arthur's Seat. Is it to the right-hand 
 or the left? I knew brother was within hearing dis- 
 tance; but I disdained to call. 
 
 " Please, sir, tell me how to get to Arthur's Seat," 
 I said to a youth who was loitering behind me. 
 
 " Beg pardon," said he, by which a Scotchman 
 means, "I don't understand you." 
 
 I repeated my request. 
 
 " Oh, you'll never get to it from here ; this is the 
 worst route you could have taken." 
 
 *' Yes, but I must get there." 
 
 .** Well, shall I go along and show you the way ? " 
 
 *' Why, yes, if you are going there.'* 
 
 " Oh ! I wasn't going any where in particular; but 
 was led this way by the sight of a young lady." 
 
 "Very well, proceed — I'll follow." 
 
 He obeyed, at first silently, then turningsaid: 
 
 "You be from the north of Scotland, now don't 
 you?" " 
 
 "No, sir, do I look like a Highland lassie? I'm 
 from America." 
 
 " From America ! " and he stood still with amaze- 
 ment. " Why you don't talk like a Yankee ! " 
 
 I laughed, and assured him we Western girls ac- 
 knowledge no such title. After musing awhile, he 
 said. 
 
 " I should like to go to America, but not to stay. 
 It's so dangerous to live there. If a man gets a spite 
 at you, he will slip up on you and shoot you down any 
 time and nobody says a word." 
 
LETTER THREE. 65 
 
 ** Oh, you are mistaken ; we have laws and have 
 them enforced, too." 
 
 *' Do you, now? '* said he wonderingly. "I would 
 like to see New York City, Niagara, go across to San 
 Francisco on that Pacific Eailroad, and visit Yose- 
 mite." 
 
 "You'd better go next year to the Centennial." 
 
 " Oh I my folks wouldn't let me, you know its so 
 far." 
 
 "Not so very," I answered. 
 
 Just then we came within sight of brother and Kate 
 climbing the adjacent hill. 
 
 " Yonder's brother now," I said. 
 
 "Your brother! is your brother with you?" he 
 inquired, in consternation. " Will he knock me down 
 for speaking to you? " 
 
 " No ; he will thank you for showing me the way." 
 
 " Do gentlemen in America speak to ladies they do 
 not know? " 
 
 " Only under extraordinary circumstances, such as 
 the present." 
 
 Eeassured he went a few steps further, then turned 
 upon me another incredulous look. 
 
 " Why, you are like a girl I know.*' 
 
 "A Scotch girl?" 
 
 " Yes. You're not at all like an American girl." 
 
 " What are they like? " I inquired, much amused 
 at his boyish candor. 
 
 " They are all so sallow^ so thin and delicate. 
 Hadn't I better help you up this steep place? " 
 5 
 
66 EDINBOEO. 
 
 ** No, thank you. I'll prove to you American girls 
 are not so wanting in physical strength as you imag- 
 ine." 
 
 " I think not, if you're a specimen.** 
 
 He chatted away quite freely now, telling me how 
 his near-sightedness prevented his being a soldier, and 
 he was thus compelled to study law, etc. By this 
 time brother was perched on Arthur's Seat, leveling 
 his field-glass at us, 
 
 "There! I'd better go back. Your brother is 
 studying my physiognomy and preparing to give me a 
 caning." 
 
 The little fellow was really frightened at his prox- 
 imity to one of those dreaded Americans ; but I again 
 told him there was no danger. Of course, I was very 
 much ridiculed by my friends for my easy route; 
 but I had gotten enough amusement to pay for the 
 walk. My escort was standing uneasily aloof with 
 his back toward us. 
 
 " Go, brother, and thank the gentleman for direct- 
 ing me." 
 
 I had intended to christen him Rob Roy in return 
 for calling me a Highland lass, but he and brother 
 became so well acquainted as to exchange cards and 
 thus spoil the romance. What think you, was on that 
 card? Mark Twain was never so shocked at " Bill- 
 finger" as was I at the John Cruikshank so delicately 
 inscribed on the enameled surface. 
 
 The view from Arthur's Seat is grand. All Edin- 
 burgh is spread out at your feet ; the sea and firth 
 
LETTER FOUR. 67 
 
 in the distance mingle their blue with that of the sky ; 
 Salisbury Plain, just now enlivened by a party of red- 
 coats shooting at targets, belts the mountain on the 
 steepest side. As we went down, two or three shep- 
 herds began to wind their horns, each seeming a 
 responsive echo to the other, and I felt that this was 
 indeed the Scotland of my dreams. 
 
 But our waiting at Leith is over. The North Star 
 begins to move out, and I must go up for a farewell 
 glance at Edinboro and Arthur's Seat. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 North Sea, June 25th, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother South : 
 
 LITTLE German girl has taught me to say, "I'm 
 going to write a letter to my sweetheart," and 
 now I will impress upon my mind this first German 
 lesson by a practical illustration. We have been since 
 Wednesday on board the North Star, and are now 
 within a few miles of land. We had dreaded this 
 passage, for it is proverbially stormy ; but we are 
 continually blessed. We never saw the Atlantic so 
 unruffled as this water has been ; its hue seems bor- 
 
68 NORTH SEA. 
 
 rowed from the sky, and its foam from the light fleecy 
 clouds, which on a summer's day, float so lazily in the 
 blue. During our^hole Atlantic voyage, we watched 
 vainly for one unclouded sunset, but yesterday after- 
 noon our desire to witness this spectacle was gratified. 
 As the sun reached the horizon, it seemed converted 
 into a ball of reddish, golden flame, and the instant the 
 rim of its disk touched the far-away water's edge, a 
 mermaid seemed to start from the breast of each wave- 
 let to light her evening lamp by its glow. We, a few 
 minutes before, had finished re-reading Lady of the 
 Lake, and, when the sun and the sea-nymphs had alike 
 hidden themselves in the deep, we began involuntarily 
 humming Auld Lang Syne. From this we proceeded 
 to another, and another old familiar tune, till " Sweet 
 Bye-and-by " found its turn. The first time you 
 ever came to our house you sang that song, so I never 
 hear it but I think of you. The next moment *' Home 
 Sweet Home " was ringing in my soul, and I began to 
 realize how far from that dear spot I was wandering. 
 The Scotch are so like our own people that we did not 
 feel lonely with them, but Germany, T am sure, will 
 be vastly diiferent. Indeed, we feel that now, for 
 almost all our fellow-passengers are German. The 
 gentlemen keep themselves entirely aloof from the 
 ladies, while even the latter seem little inclined to 
 sociability. Two of them, I learn, are teachers in 
 English families. One of them showed me yesterday 
 the bright gold pieces she has earned by last year's 
 labors. They amounted to twenty pounds (one hun- 
 
LETTER FOUR. 69 
 
 dred dollars) minus the fare from Leith to Hamburg. 
 We told her she could get better pay than that in 
 America. 
 
 "Yes; but I don't want to go to America," she 
 said; "I'd like to go to San Francisco, though, where 
 my brother is." 
 
 She is the German girl who taught me the 
 German sentence. She says I can soon learn the 
 language, and I hope it may prove true. I shall 
 apply myself very diligently, for I wish to make the 
 year profitable. We are told that such green foreign- 
 ers as ourselves, are likely to be robbed, and other- 
 wise maltreated at Hamburg. I'll let you know about 
 that to-morrow. 
 
 June 27th. — Yesterday morning, we awoke to find 
 ourselves in the Eiver Elbe, having left the sea in the 
 night. Before breakfast was over, the boat stopped 
 at the wharf. 'I was not sorry, nor yet especially glad to 
 leave this ship. There were no friends with whom to 
 part ; but neither was there one to greet us on the 
 land. Even my little German girl forgot to say 
 good-by, so great was her joy to be once more 
 in her fatherland. She had said to me, the evening 
 before — 
 
 "I know I shall feel like kissing the very sands at 
 Hamburg. Just to think, I shall be once more with 
 my own people to speak German, and hear it spoken 
 all the time." 
 
 I told her I was surprised at her enthusiasm, that I 
 
70 HAMBURG. 
 
 had supposed the Germans a phlegmatic, undemons- 
 trative race. 
 
 *'Ah ! that's a mistake ! We Germans say less than 
 we feel ; while the French feel less than they say." 
 
 I said there were no good-bys ; but it would be 
 unpardonable ingratitude to leave unmentioned young 
 Dr. T. P. A. Stuart, and Prof. McLuckie. By their 
 help we found our way to the Berlin and Dresden 
 Railway station. They were both from Scotland 
 bound for Braunsweig, the former to study the lan- 
 guage, the latter to meet his daughter who is there 
 engaged in study. Their train was not to start till 
 11:20; so Dr. S. declared his intention to see some- 
 thing of the city. 
 
 " Please to show me the way to the bank mentioned 
 in my letter of credit," requested brother. 
 
 *' With pleasure," and the honest Scotch face 
 attested the truth of his response. 
 
 Kate and I accompanied them, and were much 
 amused at the Doctor's, pouncing upon every 
 , fellow he met that he might practice upon him 
 his stock of German. We came at length upon 
 a beautiful shady avenue running along an artifi- 
 cial lake. Kate said she would rather rest 
 there than to proceed farther. Eeluctantly I assented 
 and was Just growing interested in the passers-by, 
 when Mr. Mc. returned to us. They had concluded to 
 hasten back to the depot by a shorter route. We went 
 to the bank where brother was still detained, and 
 waited for him at the entrance. 
 
LETTER FOUR. 71 
 
 *' I think I must go," said Mr. Mc. nervously con- 
 sulting his watch; "my daughter will be too much 
 disappointed if I miss the train." 
 
 *' Oh ! plenty of time I plenty of time !" reassur- 
 ingly declared Dr. S. "We must not leave Dr. 
 Lindsay," and he rushed back into the banking-office 
 to hurry their operations. We almost flew back to 
 the station, but it was no use. Before the custom- 
 house officers were through with their baggage, the train 
 left — left them to wait till three p. m. , while we would 
 start at one. We expressed our regret ; but the viva- 
 cious young man said he didn't care. 
 
 "But think of my poor girl," said Prof . M., and 
 his face visibly lengthened. 
 
 "Never mind, I'll send her a telegram," and in a 
 few minutes S. had prepared a bit of German composi- 
 tion which tended to brighten up the father's face. I 
 thought they would never want to see us again ; but 
 before leaving, each gave us his card, and requested us 
 to send them our address, when we become settled in 
 Dresden. 
 
 At one o'clock we were ready for our train. The 
 conductor asked us, we knew not what; but we an- 
 swered " Dresden." Upon this he pointed to one of 
 the open doors along the side of the car, and into this 
 we entered. We had for companions two of the 
 natives, who kept jabbering and smoking by turns, 
 resting our lungs at the expense of our ears. Kate 
 complained of nausea produced by the smoke, but the 
 supply of cigars seemed inexhaustible. I was asleep 
 
72 HAMBURG. 
 
 as we came up the Elbe, so did not get to see the 
 country on either bank. Turning to the open window, 
 I escaped the smoke and enjoj^ed the view. A funny 
 little village met my glance, its low, clumsy houses 
 covered with tile, or thatched with straw, while within 
 sight were half dozen wind mills of the most antique 
 pattern. How lazily these mills do turn ! It would 
 put me to sleep to watch them, and it seemed such 
 had been their effect upon the inhabitants of the vil- 
 lage : for I saw not a sign of life. Soon the village 
 was gone, and, in its stead, appeared narrow strips of 
 rye, grass, barley, and vegetables. On the grass 
 herds of sheep were feeding under the watchcare of a 
 boy and dog, lest they should wander away in the un- 
 fenced country. In a few meadows they were making 
 a sickly looking hay into very diminutive heaps — not 
 enough in any one to feed a calf. In these hayfields 
 there were chiefly women engaged. Not a solitary 
 farm-house was to be seen, and I inferred that these 
 were the villagers who leave their houses to take care 
 of themselves in the daytime. An occasional strip of 
 full blown scarlet poppies, and an occasional grove of 
 pines, were all that broke the monotony of the hilless 
 landscape. Our train halted but seldom, but at one 
 place brother, said : — 
 
 " I should like a drink, if I only knew how to as-k 
 for it." 
 
 " I'll ask for it for you," proffered one of our com- 
 panions in quite good English. 
 
 Kate winced a little at this, for under the impression 
 
LETTER FOUR. 73 
 
 that she was not understood, she had expressed herself 
 quite freely on the subject of German etiquette. As 
 our friend lighted his next cigar, he observed: — 
 
 '* I am sorry you got into the smoking-car. There 
 are some in which smoking is not allowed." 
 
 To repay us for the annoyance occasioned by his 
 smoke, he assisted us in changing cars at Leipsic. 
 He proved to be from Pennsylvania, and only on a 
 visit to his childhood's home. 
 
 Having left this old man at L., we were now en- 
 tirely upon our own resources. It was with some mis- 
 givings we neared the city of Dresden. Not one of 
 the stupid foreigners could speak a civilized word ( !), 
 and for us to reproduce their guttural sounds was alike 
 impossible. But we were rejoiced to see our baggage 
 precede us into the depot. The station-master pointed 
 to the custom-house marks on our trunks. 
 
 " He wants to examine them again," s^id brother, 
 and he opened a valise. 
 
 The man shook his head with an amused smile, and 
 made other signs. 
 
 "Your checks, Doctor; perhaps he wants your 
 checks," suggested Kate. 
 
 "Yah, yah," he said, and brother handed him the 
 slips of paper with which to identify our baggage. 
 
 He didn't know, when they were given him, just 
 what they were for — thought they might be receipts 
 for his passage money. 
 
 *' Droschkie?" now inquired the man. 
 
74. DEESDEN. 
 
 I had seen in my guide-book that word for cab, so I 
 said yes by a nod of the head. A stalwart porter 
 shouldered our trunks, one at a time, and placed them 
 on the cab, then opened the door that we might get 
 inside. He continued to hold it open till brother took 
 the hint, and put a coin in his hand. He turned the 
 coin over with a dissatisfied grunt, which was easy to 
 interpret. Brother added a second coin, with the un- 
 gracious remark : — 
 
 ** I hope that's enough now.'* 
 
 Each piece was marked ten pfennige, so we thought 
 we had been terribly swindled; but we know now 
 that the man realized only a cent apiece on each valise 
 and trunk. Fortunately *' Victoria Hotel" is the 
 same in German as in English, so our cabman in a few 
 minutes deposited us in front of its well lighted 
 entrance. They understood enough of English to 
 know that a bed would' be the thing most desired by 
 midnight travelers. Kate and I had congratulated 
 ourselves that we could once more sleep together, 
 instead of occupying separate berths, as we had 
 to do on the steamers. Imagine, then, our chagrin 
 when we found, instead of our American double 
 beds, two single ones, on the same side of the room. 
 They were white, soft, springy beds, though, and 
 soon we were oblivious to the novelties of our sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 " Dora, don't you know this is Sunday morning, 
 and there is church to go to ? " 
 
> LETTER FOUR. ' 75 
 
 It was Kate's voice, and I opened my eyes wide 
 enough to see that she was nearly dressed, and that the 
 sun was pouring in at the window. 
 
 "Well," said I, "if you want to go to hear a 
 ' Dutch ' sermon, you may go. For my part, I intend 
 to make this a literal day of rest," and I was asleep 
 again before I could hear her answer. 
 
 It was quite ten by the time I was ready for break- 
 fast. At the ring of our bell, a spruce looking 
 waiter, in a swallow-tailed coat and white neck tie, 
 came in with the coffee, rolls', and butter, which is the 
 German idea of a full breakfast. It is now near the 
 dinner hour, 4: 30 p. m., and I must suspend writing 
 for the present. 
 
 Well, we've been two hours at that table ! There 
 were seven changes of plates : first, we had a course 
 of salmon ; second, roast mutton and potatoes ; third, 
 some unknown dish upon which I did not venture; 
 fourth, boiled lobsters; fifth, stewed cherries; sixth, 
 ice-cream and cake; seventh, strawberries not larger 
 than currants. To while away the interval between 
 changing plates, most of the guests were sipping wine. 
 The grand finale came in the form of a spirit-lamp 
 passed around that the gentlemen might light their 
 cigars by its flame. The ladies seemed to enjoy the 
 cloud of smoke 'which soon filled the dining-room; 
 but, in the midst of it, we withdrew and sought the 
 front door for a bit of fresh air. Just then, a gentle- 
 man was passing with a lady on his arm, and, at the 
 
76 • DRESDEN. 
 
 same time with a lighted cigar in his mouth. Go 
 where we will, in this country, we must encounter 
 tobacco .smoke. Etiquette seems nowhere to exclude 
 it. But lest, by judging hastily, I do injustice to 
 these people, I shall defer further comment on their 
 manners. 
 
 Our coming on to Dresden instead of going to Ber- 
 lin, has hindered us in getting our mail; but I do not 
 doubt you have written, hence shall send this on. It 
 will go to-morrow to Hamburg; Wednesday will start 
 to Leith, Scotland ; and. about the following Wednes- 
 day will leave Glasgow for New York. It may be 
 shipwrecked and you may imagine I have forgotten 
 you ; but I send it with the prayer that, as I have been 
 brought safely over, so may this reach you. I dreamed 
 the other night that you were sici?: and that I was going 
 to see you; I don't know which predominated, sorrow 
 at your illness, or joy at the expected meeting.' A 
 whole year is a long, long time; but such separation 
 only draws our hearts nearer together and will thus 
 add to our future happiness. Now a good-by to you. 
 Yours, 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
LETTER FIVE. 77 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 Dresden, Saxony, July 11, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 J[r|F the days of genii were not past, I would greatly 
 ^ abbreviate my evening's task by bidding my 
 special attendant to furnish you instant transportation 
 to this place. I would have you blindfolded and entirely 
 ignorant of your destination until you were safely 
 deposited on that comfortable sofa across the room. 
 
 " Where am I? " would be your mental query, and 
 your eyes would search around for an answer. " Not 
 in America, surely, for we do not paint our floors 
 having only a rug of Brussels for the table and 
 chairs. And what is that in the corner? It looks some- 
 thing like a Dutch clock, only it is broader in front, 
 and instead of their dark color it is white. " 
 
 On nearer examination, however, you see the medal- 
 lion about half way up, which you mistook for a dial, 
 is merely an ornament matching the plaster of Paris 
 finish at the top. If you have now sufficient curiosity 
 to walk over near it, you may discover two small 
 iron doors not far from the bottom. Open these, as I 
 did, and the mystery is solved. One door opens upon 
 a grate for receiving coal, the lower one upon a pan 
 
78 DEESDEN. 
 
 for catching the cinders. This elegant piece of furni- 
 ture, built of brick and covered with porcelain, answers 
 the place of our stoves and grates. Peep now, through 
 the foldino; doors of the sittino;-room, into the little 
 bed-chambers, and be further convinced by the narrow 
 single beds that you are in a foreign country ; then, 
 draw aside the lace curtains of that south window, raise 
 the blind, open the window itself as you would a fold- 
 ing door, and get a breath of fresh air. Very pure is 
 the air, for only a few blocks separate us from the 
 fields of rye you may see in the background. But 
 what is there peculiar in the surroundings? Don't you 
 see that large square-built house on the right? Don't 
 you see it is three-story except at the four corners 
 which rise one story higher? Look up the street and 
 down and you will find many a match to this substan- 
 tial, but by no means beautiful, piece of architecture.. 
 Don't be deceived into believing them built of stone 
 though, for they are only of brick artfully covered 
 with plaster. I thought, the other morning, that I had 
 found one loooden building, but what was apparently 
 weathei'-boarding proved to be an imitation in plaster. 
 But don't you see, too, the gardens attached to every 
 house? Those maples, locusts, acanthi, cherries, and 
 eims you recognize, but you can not apj^rove the taste 
 which fills the grounds so closely with these that you 
 can not get a glimpse of the grass, if there is any below. 
 You know, from the fragrance in the air, that there 
 are roses about, and indeed, they abound on every side ; 
 but their natural grace is destroyed by the attempt to 
 
LETTER FIVE. 79 
 
 make trees of them, Of coarse the stem is too weak 
 to support itself erect, so it is bound to a stiff, upright 
 pole, after having been trimmed till there is only a 
 small crest of flowering branches left. What of beauty 
 is thus lost by the bush as a whole is, however, gained 
 by the individual blossoms, in that their fragrance is 
 increased tenfold. In fact, as you look at these roses, 
 you will be reminded of the difference between the 
 grape vine, when allowed to follow its own inclinations, 
 and the same vine when made a restrained occupant of 
 a vineyard. You will also see in every garden one or 
 more summer-houses almost concealed by the, over- 
 hanging trees and closely-clinging creepers. 
 
 I would have you thus brought over about 6 :15 a. m., 
 for at that hour we would all be out taking our morn- 
 ing walk, and you would have the pleasure of making 
 these observations, and concluding for yourself that 
 nowhere but in Germany could such uniform stiffness 
 be found in combination with attempted elegance. 
 Your meditations would likely be interrupted by the 
 entrance of Ernestina with a basin of water, a mop 
 and a little dusting broom. The round-faced lassie 
 would not stare at you impudently, neither would she 
 utter a scream at the unexpected apparition ; but hum- 
 bly getting down upon her knees, she would fulfill her 
 daily task by mopping up every particle of dust from 
 the painted floor. The little broom she uses to brush 
 the three yards square of carpet, the short handle com- 
 [)elling her to bend over almost double. This is an 
 
80 DRESDEN. 
 
 illustration of the needless expenditure of physical 
 power so common in Germany. They need a Yankee 
 genius to teach them a few labor-saving lessons. 
 Ernestina, however, knows nothing of patent long- 
 handled, self-acting brooms, so you will see her work 
 away with patient good humor until, just in the very 
 nick of time, just as we make our appearance upon the 
 scene, she is ready to spread our breakfast on the tiny 
 table in our sitting-room. After your long journey I 
 fear your keen appetite will pronounce this rather a 
 scanty meal; but let any German be the judge, and 
 he will tell you that the addition of meat or eggs to the 
 butter, rolls and coffee, is a piece of American extrava- 
 gance. As Ernestina did not know you were to 
 breakfast with us, we must send her back for three 
 more biscuits, two more eggs, another piece of meat, 
 two more lumps of sugar, another urn of coffee, and 
 another bit of cream, for with such nicety does the. 
 German housekeeper calculate the extent of our appe- 
 tites, that she sends in not a fragment beyond what is 
 accessary for us three. It is well you didn't bring your 
 pet canary, for she could never live upon the crumbs 
 which fall from our table. In the way of table con- 
 versation, I think we would entertain you with ques- 
 tions about Lexington, about Hocker College, about 
 the University, about Bro. McGarvey's last sermon, 
 etc. At eight we would have to excuse ourselves from 
 talking with you, for at nine Prof. Eudolph comes to 
 hear our German lesson, and it is not yet thoroughly 
 
LETTER FIVE. 81 
 
 prepared. What shall you do with yourself? Well, I 
 advise you to take a walk up that western avenue, 
 shaded so beautifully with linden trees. 
 
 The trees are all in bloom, and men are gather- 
 ing many of the blossoms. Our landlady says : — 
 
 '* Dey makes tea fum de blumen, vich make you 
 transpire ven you are sick, and den you gets veil." 
 
 You will fiad sufficient variety for an hour's amuse- 
 ment. Here you will pass the mansion of a prince, 
 with its grounds laid out according to the standard of 
 German taste ; there you will come upon a beer gar- 
 den with its long vine-clad arbors sheltering the con- 
 vivial tables and expectant chairs. Here you meet 
 a schoolboy whistling merrily despite the knapsack of 
 books strapped across his shoulders, there you 
 encounter a washerwoman, who, after bending all day 
 yesterday and the day before over the tub and the 
 ironing-table, is now bending under the weight of the 
 huge basket of clothes on her back. By her side trots 
 her little three-year-old, likewise stooping under the 
 burden of an infant basket, which one might mistake 
 for a deformity inherited from the mother. Poor 
 child ! each year her basket must grow larger, and she 
 will never know what it is to stand freely erect. But 
 at Hamburg I saw women more heavily laden than this 
 one. Instead of one basket they had two or three 
 suspended to each end of a kind of beam which rested 
 upon the back of the neck. 
 
 But this road is every morning frequented by milk- . 
 maids. You'll know them by their bright pink 
 6 
 
82 DRESDEN. 
 
 sacques, bright blue aprons, and short skirts, dirty 
 hose and shapeless slippers. The poets always talk 
 about the milkmaid "tripping o'er the mead;" but 
 the labored strides of this one does not accord with my 
 idea of tripping. But she must needs walk thus, for 
 she has not a single pail jauntily balanced, but she and 
 her dog in double harness are pulling a wagon, in whose 
 bed of wicker-work are a dozen heavy cans. The 
 canine half of the team is taking his task very much 
 at his ease, merely trotting along beside the woman. 
 Further on you meet a boy and a dog, and this time 
 Tray has his match. The boy makes him do all the 
 pulling, urging him along at every step. Even a 
 German boy is sharp enough to get out of work. If 
 you are as fortunate as we usually are, you'll see 
 many another novel turnout. For instance, a man 
 and a mule is a frequent combination ; a horse working 
 alone on one side of a wagon tongue is by no means 
 a rare arrangement. In fact, I infer that horses are 
 scarcer in this country than are men and women. 
 
 You will find it time to return before you think of 
 being weary; but I must have jt'ou here to see our 
 teacher enter the door and make his bow. His bow- 
 ing seems to be done by rule, for every time he calls 
 in play the self-same muscles. He places his feet 
 close together, throws back his shoulders, draws up 
 his slight form to its full height, then, having attained 
 the desired stiffness, he brings forward his head with a 
 spasmodic jerk ; first toward me, then making a pivot 
 of his heels, he confers upon each occupant of the 
 
LETTER FIVB. 83 
 
 room the same honor. We have a large easy chair 
 (just such a one as you would like) and, on the first 
 morning, placed it beside the table for his use ; but he 
 asked us to give him instead a straight-backed affair 
 which can never tempt him to relax his self-supporting 
 attitude. Now don't smile at his manners, for in so 
 doing you display ignorance of the German standard 
 of etiquette. Prof. K. is a model gentleman and if 
 you observe him through the two hours' lesson, jou. 
 will see him display a well trained intellect and a fine 
 capacity for imparting instruction. To be sure, 
 you will see a little hesitation once in a while, as he 
 searches for an English word to express his idea, but I 
 have learned to sympathize with one under such cir- 
 cumstances. He is never at a loss for criticisms on 
 our manuscripts, however, nor is he less careful in cor- 
 rectmg a false account. You may count the mistakes 
 we make by watching his shoulders; for at every one 
 he raises them as if to shield his ears from the grating 
 sound. I was rather amused at a conversation between 
 Prof. R. and a specimen of Young America who 
 boards in this same house. The latter has command 
 of every untranslatable slang phrase with which our 
 language is becoming corrupted. 
 
 ** Did you see the royal parties that were in town 
 yesterday, the Czar of Russia, the King and Queen 
 of Sweden, with their attendants?" asked the Pro- 
 fessor. 
 
 *' Oh ! yes," said Mr. P. 
 
84 DRESDEN. 
 
 " Did you notice with what dignity and grace the 
 Queen of Sweden took her seat in her carriage? All 
 the ladies friskily hopped into their carriages, and 
 plumped themselves down on the seats in a very com- 
 mon place way ; but she" — 
 
 " Oh ! she regularly ohsquatulatedf** interrupted Mr. 
 P. 
 
 " Sir; what did you say? " and the cultivated Ger- 
 man mentally ransacked his vocabulary of English 
 words, in the vain search for the elegant term. 
 
 "I saw Vic, down in Italy," boastingly said P. 
 
 "Vic? who's that?" 
 
 " Why, don't you know Vic? Vic — Victor Eman- 
 uel." 
 
 *' Oh ! yes, I know he is very partial towards Ameri- 
 cans, always pleased to converse with them; but that 
 is true of nearly all European sovereigns." 
 
 " Well, say? I want a Dutch Duchess to take home 
 with me, where can I get one? " 
 
 "You'll have to go to Holland for that, though 
 you can find many a duchess at our watering-places 
 who can not afford to keep so much as a single bugg}''. 
 In fact, we are now becoming very indifferent to such 
 titles. The time has come for Germany when ' a man 
 is a man ' and no mere prefix of ' count ' or ' prince ' can 
 purchase otherwise unmerited respect." 
 
 " Why I thought you all had plenty of money here; 
 but you stick as close to a dollar as anybody. What 
 has become of all those French napoleons?" 
 
LETTER FIVE. 85 
 
 " The people have never received a penny of that. 
 It is in the treasury to be kept ready for war pur- 
 poses." 
 
 *' Eh 1 a kind of a nest egg, is it? " 
 
 *' Mr. R. does not understand such expressions," I 
 interposed. 
 
 *' No, Miss, I do not ; but, as I said, we are poor, 
 and for that reason we are far behind America. We 
 do not so understand forming corporations as the 
 Yankees do. We tried it once, and made a perfect 
 faihire — will not try again." 
 
 " What makes you keep so many soldiers idling 
 around? You had better save the money it costs to 
 clothe and feed them." 
 
 " Oh ! you know not what you say. Break up our 
 army ? Why France would be upon us at once I As 
 it is now, in twenty-four hours, we can have one mill- 
 ion men under arms and on their way to the field of 
 action." 
 
 But I had forgotten we were reciting a lesson in 
 your hearing. Let us suppose the recitation closed, 
 and the two hours' study between that and dinner 
 likewise passed. You may rejoice that we are not at 
 a hotel, to be tormented with an infinite number of 
 courses which take away your appetite, and waste 
 your precious time. This boarding house was recom- 
 mended to us by Mr. Mil ward, of Lexington, as the 
 only place in Europe where he had found anything 
 homelike. 
 
86 DRESDEN. 
 
 Miss S.,our landlady, gives us our wonted meals at 
 our wonted hours, Kate has even taught her how to 
 make American pies. She has learned to cut them into 
 even six pieces, which are just enough to go around. 
 The other day. Miss S., who is a maiden lady of 
 uncertain age, had a beau. He came near dinner time, 
 and she soon told him he must go home, for she hadn't 
 enough pie to share with him. 
 
 "I'll give him half of my piece," was the gener- 
 ous of offer of Mr. P. 
 
 Sure enough the ardent widower remained, and when 
 the pie was passed to him he refused to take an entire 
 sixth. But Miss S.'s heart for once got the better of 
 her appetite. 
 
 «'Take it all, Mr. G.," she said, "I will eat the 
 half slice." 
 
 Of course, such close living is rather a trial to us, 
 but as our rooms are kept so tidy and we have enough 
 to eat, we are quite content. Moreover, Miss S. 
 speaks only a broken English, and will make us begin 
 as soon as possible to use our German. Address us in 
 care of Miss M. Schuster, No. 1 Wiener Strass, Dres- 
 den, Saxony. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
LETTEE SIX. 87 
 
 LETTER VL 
 
 Dresden, July 18, 1876. 
 
 Dear Brother South: 
 
 iJ^JTE. P. is in here " gassing" about what '* I did 
 ^f^J^ down in Italy ;" but I do not enjoy such con- 
 versation on Sunday, so I will write awhile to see if 
 he will not take the hint to go to his own room. 
 Perhaps you may think it strange that, as it is Sunday 
 morning, we are not at church. Well, it was our 
 intention to go, but just as I began to get ready, Kate 
 concluded she was unable to walk so far. We went, 
 yesterday afternoon out to the " Grosze Garten," a 
 full half hour's walk, and I suppose it was a little too 
 much for her. She is so full of energy that it is hard 
 for her to estimate her strength properly. The only 
 safe way is to refuse to go with her, when she pro- 
 poses too great an undertaking, and this I liave done 
 sometimes when I was really anxious to go myself. 
 Yesterday, however, I formed a new acquaintance, 
 who promises to be my companion hereafter. It was 
 the wife of our teacher. According to the German 
 custom, which requires a stranger to call first upon the 
 residents, Kate and I went up to see her one after- 
 noon last week. We have rooms at the head of the 
 
88 DRESDEN. 
 
 first flight of steps in this four-story mansion ; while 
 Mrs. Rudolph occupies those at the head of the second 
 flight. We told Prof. R., at the close of our morning 
 lesson, that Mrs. R. might expect us in the afternoon. 
 We donned a street costume, hat, gloves, and all, as if 
 we were going down town instead of simply upstairs. 
 Our landlady told us this was the proper thing to do, 
 and also to take cards as if we had not sent her word 
 we were coming. These cards we have procured since 
 coming to Dresden, and had our names printed upon 
 them ; because Prof. R. said it would be considered bad 
 taste to get them blank and write the names ourselves. 
 Mrs. R. received us with timid cordiality and con- 
 versed with us in perfect English. She was for five 
 years previous to her marriage a teacher in England, 
 and is quite intelligent. She has a warmth and ani- 
 mation in her manner which is quite congenial to me. 
 
 Well, she returned our call and then made an 
 engagement to walk with us yesterday afternoon. 
 There is a double advantage in going with her ; she can 
 tell us much about the places we visit, and besides, 
 she speaks German to me all the time. When I do 
 not understand her remarks, she patiently repeats and 
 translates for me, then makes me say it after her. I 
 can learn as much in my walks with her, as in my 
 morning recitations, so I was very grateful yesterday, 
 when she pressed my hand at parting, and said: 
 *' I will go with you anytime that you send me word.*' 
 
 Don't think now I intend to neglect Kate for this new 
 friend. A physician can better take care of an invalid, 
 
LETTER SIX. 89 
 
 and ander brother's ministrations, she neither needs 
 nor misses me. Indeed, I have, more than once, 
 experienced that peculiar loneliness consequent upon 
 being the " third party." Mrs. E,. has been married 
 but a short time, and I feared other society than that 
 of her husband might prove irksome to her; but she, 
 too, occasionally feels herself a " third party." Her 
 husband is an enthusiastic student; his books archer 
 rivals. He shuts himself up in his library with them ; 
 while she sits demurely by her work-table in her own 
 room, with his silent photograph upon a little easel 
 beside her. This being the case, you see I can confer 
 as much benefit as I receive. 
 
 She told me yesterday a little incident which shows 
 how the lower class of Germans are wont to treat a 
 lady. She was informed that her mother, who lives 
 in another part of the city, was quite ill, so she 
 ordered a *' bus " to call by to take her there. She 
 was first to enter the vehicle, and finding it very close, 
 she attempted to raise a window. Unluckily, in the 
 attempt the sash fell out, and went crashing to the 
 pavement. A crowd instantly assembled to inquire 
 into the nature of the disaster. The driver came in, 
 stared at her, shrugged his shoulders, but remained 
 silent. Shortly after the conductor entered, and in a 
 pompous tone, demanded: — 
 
 <' Who broke that window?" 
 
 " She did," said an impertinent fellow, pointing at 
 Mrs. E. 
 
90 ^ DRESDEN. 
 
 "Yes sir," said the lady in a pleading tone, "I 
 had scarcely touched it when it fell to the ground." 
 
 *' Well, no matter about that, ma'am, you must pay 
 for it all the same." 
 
 " How much? " 
 
 " Twenty-five groschen (sixty-seven and a half 
 cents"). 
 
 " I have not so much in my purse," replied Mrs. R. 
 " At what office shall I leave the amount? " 
 
 "How do I know that you would ever leave it," 
 said the man; "anybody that can't afford to carry 
 twenty-five groschen in her purse can hardly be 
 trusted." 
 
 At this insult Mrs. R. burst into tears, and in des- 
 peration drew off her precious wedding-ring and gave 
 it to the brute as a pledge. As if mollified by this, he 
 assumed a more respectful tone and said : — 
 
 " Well, never mind, madam, you needn't call at the 
 office ; I will come to your house to-morrow for the 
 money." 
 
 She was far from heeding this, however, for 
 she felt sure he intended to cheat her; and, sure 
 enough, when she went to the office she found the 
 charge was only twenty groschen. So you see there 
 are a few ruffians and extortioners who have not yet 
 emigrated to America. 
 
 We received a call yesterday from our Scotch friend, 
 to whom we caused such a disappointment at Ham- 
 burg. His daughter was with him, but in her soft 
 
LETTER SIX. 91 
 
 brown eyes was not a shadow of that disappointment. 
 Mr. McLuckie has charge of a school in Stirling, 
 Scotland, and his daughter is finishing her education in 
 Germany, that she may be prepared to assist him. She 
 is to remain here in Dresden all winter, teaching En- 
 glish, while studying German, French, painting, and 
 music. It is quite a pleasure to thus form acquaint- 
 ances ; it is such a relief to recognize one among the 
 infinite number of faces encountered on the street. 
 The first whom I recognized thus on the street, was 
 our teacher, and so eager was I to enjoy the privilege 
 of speaking to him, that I bowed before he had time 
 to lift his hat. For this breach of German etiquette, 
 he afterwards reproved me, saying, that in this coun- 
 try, none but a princess ever bows first to a gentleman. 
 This information relieved my chagrin ; for any Amer- 
 ican lady is as good as a princess. The customs here 
 are, in many respects, different from our own. Miss 
 Schuster says that no young lady ever receives calls 
 from a gentleman till after they are engaged, and then 
 only in the presence of her mother. Neither is any 
 written communication permissible. Miss S. saw the 
 address of my last letter to the President, and said : — 
 
 "Eh, little girl, writing to a gentleman? Is he your 
 bridegroom?" 
 
 Now 1 had learned that in German the terms 
 ** bride" and " bridegroom " are applied to a couple 
 who are simply betrothed, so I hastened to assure 
 Miss. S. that I am not engaged. 
 
92 DRESDEN. 
 
 '*Dea vy do you vear dat golt ring on de third 
 finger? " 
 
 I explained to her that in America, the engagement 
 ring is worn on the first finger, and that I had never 
 yet allowed one to be placed upon mine. 
 
 " Oh ! den you mus' take it off. None ob de Saxon 
 gentleman will look at you, if you wear dat." 
 
 Despite this, however, I still continue to wear the 
 ring, and shall risk making a false impression upon 
 the Saxon youths so long as good letters from Frank- 
 fort reach me promptly every week . The last one, 
 dated June 24, came Monday, and was no less wel- 
 come than the first. I believe I have written to you 
 about once a week. I keep no account ; but when the 
 desire to talk with you becomes irresistible, I bid my 
 pen to perform that duty. Since beginning this, I 
 have been several times interrupted. I stopped at the 
 end of the second page to read with brother and Kate. 
 We read together the seventy-first psalm, and fifteenth 
 of First Corinthians then I read aloud to them a chapter 
 from *' Communings in the Sanctuary," after which 
 we sang two or three hymns. That brought on the 
 dinner hour, and now I must stop to get ready for 
 church at four. 
 
 Eight o'clock p. m. Tea is just finished and Kate 
 and brother have gone out for a Avalk ; but I prefer to 
 stay at home with you. It was to the Royal Church we 
 went this afternoon. This is Catholic, though, as you 
 know, a large part of Germany is Lutheran 
 
LETTER SIX. 93 
 
 There goes that street car again I It*s off the track 
 again as usual, and there is as much excitement in the 
 street as if the same thing had not occurred every day 
 for the last six months, or more. I suppose there is 
 some defect in the construction of the track, and there 
 is no inventive genius to suggest a remedy. Of course 
 the driver ought to slacken the speed of his horses as 
 he approaches this treacherous turn ; but, instead of 
 that, he urges them on at a quick pace, and crash ! go 
 the wheels against the rough stones. He is always 
 astonished at the result, and excitedly draws in his lines, 
 while uttering the peculiar guttural sound which is the 
 German substitute for our word *'WhoaI" It is a 
 sound something like the croaking of a frog. My 
 future reminiscences of Dresden must ever be associated 
 with this street car, its driver, and the daily tugging 
 and sweating by which it was replaced on the track. 
 
 But I have a secret to tell you. It is something 
 about Miss Schuster, and I have promised her not to 
 tell Kate or brother ; but I must tell somebody. You 
 know she is an old maid, and not very attractiv^e, at 
 that. She says when she was young she had just such 
 eyes as mine, and they are really not bad-looking now; 
 but her mouth reminds one of the age of mammoths. 
 She assures us she has had plenty of opportunities to 
 marry, but never the right one yet. We were a little 
 skeptical on this head; but, this week, she actually had 
 a proposal. About the time we came here she formed 
 the acquaintance of a jolly widower, who called at the 
 suggestion of Mr. Mil ward. 
 
94 DEESDEN. 
 
 ** She is too ugly, " was his expressed conviction at 
 the end of the first interview ; but he went home to his 
 little unwashed daughters, and the fact that they were 
 motherless overcame him. He came again and again 
 till he ceased to think of the ugly mouth, which spread 
 itself in welcoming smiles. Another idea took posses- 
 sion of him. His present employment is keeping a 
 small cigar store, but he longs for business on a larger 
 scale. Fraulein Schuster's money would be the one 
 thing needful to accomplish this end. Accordingly, on 
 last Friday morning, he proposed to her in the most 
 practical style. She, in a corresponding tone of the 
 matter-of-fact, informed him that four children were 
 rather a larger investment than she desired to make — 
 in short, that he was talking nonsense. The refusal 
 neither broke his heart nor destroyed his appetite; he 
 ate his whole allowance at dinner. While eating, he 
 said : — 
 
 *« I take my children to de baker every morning to 
 get dere pie. It is hard to have a house fall of chil- 
 dren and no Frau to do for dem. " 
 
 I asked Miss S. how she could resist his appeals. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, "I am not such a fool as he tinks. 
 He vants my money, and I vill keep it myself. What 
 could I do mit dem four little tipsy {gipsy) girls? I 
 vould put dem von in each corner, and make dem stay 
 dere. If dey vas like you, little girl, I would like to 
 have dem. " 
 
 Awhile ago, when I came from church, I found her 
 in her room crying. 
 
LETTER SIX. 95 
 
 "What is the matter, Miss Schuster?" I asked, 
 ' ' has any one offended you ? ' ' 
 
 "No, no, my little girl, I have a deep problem — 
 you never did have such a von. " 
 
 Upon this I left, but at the tea-table I was surprised 
 to find her eyes sparkling, till I was rather compli- 
 mented at the thought of their resemblance to mine. 
 She slipped into my hand a little scrap of paper 
 on which was written, " A great happiness has come to 
 me within the last hour. '* I was all curiosity to learn 
 in what shape it had come, and, after the others with- 
 drew, she told me. A gentleman, to whom she is 
 devoted, and whom she had not seen since April, had 
 sent to make an engagement for some time this week_ 
 
 " Dat vas vat did make me cry, " she said, " and 
 my tears did bring him. '* 
 
 This begins to grow romantic, and I shall rather 
 impatiently await the issue. Perhaps you may have a 
 kindred feeling in regard to the termination of this 
 letter, so good-by. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
96 DKESDEN. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 Dresden, July 27, 1875. 
 Dear Brother Graham : 
 
 two weeks ago I was deploring the fact that 
 beautiful, swift- winged fairies, no longer attend 
 us niaterial creatures; but, since then, as if to teach 
 me that the age of wonders even yet exists, I have 
 been admitted to a second Aladdin Palace. Repeat- 
 edly since coming to Dresden the question has been 
 asked : — 
 
 "Have you been to the Green Vaults? " 
 
 Until last Wednesday our answer was invariably — '■ 
 
 '< Not yet." 
 
 From the name we had pictured to ourselves a suc- 
 cession of gloomy subterranean chambers with dismal 
 rows of marble sarcophagi on either hand. We had 
 imagined them full of a dampness which had probably 
 settled in a green mould upon the vaulted ceiling. 
 But some one corrected this impression. 
 
 " They are not," said our informant, *♦ vaults for 
 hiding away the dead, but, instead, eight elegant 
 rooms painted in green and gold, in which are stored 
 away the magnificent treasures collected by Saxon 
 kings. It is a part of the castle — you have seen the 
 castle? " 
 
LETTER SEVEN. 97 
 
 •* No, we have seen nothing but the Zwinger.** 
 
 " The Zwinger I Well, if you have been to the 
 gallery, you have noticed, just opposite, a very irreg- 
 ular, ungainly, misshapen cluster or semi-circle of 
 buildings, beginning and terminating with a high-tow- 
 ered church. The ugly, flat-roofed portion between 
 the churches, contains a palace for the kings, barracks 
 for the soldiers you meet every day on the street, to- 
 gether with the eight rooms of which I speak." 
 
 "What! do you mean to say the Germans build 
 their castles on the level ground? How very unroman- 
 tic." 
 
 The fact is, we had noticed this row of many-win- 
 dowed walls, and had thought it a pity for the grounds 
 around the Zwinger to be occupied by such an unseemly 
 structure. Our idea of castles we derived from Old 
 Dumbarton, Stirling and Edinboro, frowning from 
 their sublime heights upon the lower world. Elevation 
 was, in our minds, an essential characteristic of a 
 castle, hence the Castle of Dresden had escaped our 
 recognition. But we have been taught once more the 
 folly of judging from external appearances. 
 
 On Wednesday morning, July 22, we applied for 
 admission to these chambers. It was a cloudy, driz- 
 zly day, and more sombre, less attractive than ever 
 seemed the old castle. As usual here, we were dis- 
 armed of our umbrellas at the entrance, had to pay two 
 groschen for this unsought attention, then an addi- 
 tional marc admitted us to the room of the Bronzes. 
 
 We were far from being alone, for so dense a crowd 
 7 
 
98 DRESDEN. 
 
 was in advance of us that it was only by a considerable 
 strugo-le we were able to cross the threshold. Then 
 everybody had a catalogue, and everybody's catalogue 
 tells him to look first at the groups or statues on the 
 right ; but by the time everybody had turned to the 
 right, there was such a Jam, nobody had room to en- 
 joy the beauties of art. Even in presence of the 
 Sistine Madonna one can not be oblivious to the fact 
 that some awkward Yankee is treading on her toes. 
 In a few minutes, however, some saw the propriety of 
 going over to the other side, and soon we were com- 
 fortably dispersed around the four walls. Here a new 
 diversion arose; all, I said, had catalogues, but ours 
 was the only one written in English. Now you know 
 how fascinating to the mind is a half-solved mystery; 
 well, such has the colloquial German become to me ; so 
 instead of beginning at once to examine the dumb 
 designs before me, 1 became wholly intent upon catch- 
 ing as much as possible of a description which a 
 Dresden lady was reading aloud to a companion. 
 
 '* A crucifixion by John, of Bologne, the most noted 
 bronze in the room," read Mr. P., from our own cata- 
 logue. 
 
 Thus reminded of the object which had brought us 
 to the Grune Gewolbe, I saw before me the work 
 designated. I like not these images of our Saviour, 
 but as a work of art, I was forced to admire the exe- 
 cution. The whole weight of the body seemed really 
 resting upon the nail-pierced hands and feet, the 
 strained muscles of the arms and the swollen veins of 
 
LETTER SEVEN, 99 
 
 the feet and ankles, are the natural result of such a 
 position ; the great drops of blood are just ready to 
 start from the wounded side. But if we stop to de- 
 scribe every crucifixion with which we meet in Europe, 
 I am sure the crosses will be more than you can bear, 
 so you may accept this as a picture of the thousands 
 we may see hereafter. I fear to tarry longer in the 
 Bronze Koom lest my letter should acquire the dull 
 hue of the metal. 
 
 Quite convivial was our reception in the Ivory 
 apartment. On the right and on the left, were 
 arranged on tables, huge drinking-cups of ivory set in 
 silver-gilt, lip-inviting goblets, decorated with precious 
 stones; tankards of sufficient capacity to satisfy the 
 original Bacchus, whose vine-crowned image formed 
 an appropriate carving for the outside. But should 
 cups, goblets and tankards be exhausted, numbers of 
 mammoth ewers and pitchers, equally costly in design, 
 stood ready to furnish a new supply. It seems the 
 German fondness for drink is not a recent develop- 
 ment, but has been handeddownfor many generations. 
 Quite harmless and wonderfully beautiful are these 
 vessels now, as they are exhibited merely to display 
 their workmanship ; but many a time, no doubt, have 
 they furnished the stimulus for energy-stealing, soul- 
 destroying midnight revels. My thoughts were fast 
 becoming overwhelmed in the vinous ocean which my 
 imagination drew from those long-used cups, when a 
 Dutch frigate came to the rescue. Just beyond the 
 tables appropriated to the drinking vessels, and in 
 
100 DRESDEN. 
 
 « - 
 
 strong contrast with their massive structure, was the 
 delicate craft to which I refer. It is two feet in height, 
 two and a half feet long, and all of the purest iyory. 
 Even the sails were of the same material and so thinly 
 carved as to be transparent. On every yard-arm of 
 fore, main, and mizzen mast is stretched its appropri- 
 ate bit of imitation canvas, which is rounded towards 
 the bow as if filled with a mighty wind. Tiny as are 
 these sails, on them are carved in relief the arms of 
 Saxony and Brandenburg, and on the hull are the 
 names of all the Saxon electors till the time of John 
 George I. The cordage is all of gold wire, and up 
 among the rigging are nimble looking sailors about an 
 inch high adjusting mimic ropes and sail. The pedes- 
 tal upon which this rests represents Neptune in his sea- 
 shell chariot drawn by sea-horses. Nothing could be 
 more fairy-like. 
 
 Quite near this is a group of one hundred and forty- 
 one figures representing the " Fall of the Angels." 
 How in the world any man ever had the patience to 
 work away with a knife at a solid foot of ivory, until 
 it grew into the form of a confusedly precipitated 
 host of winged, shielded and helmeted creatures, is a 
 mystery to me ! It was done by a monk, though, and 
 doubtless, while he was thus engaged, many of his 
 brethren were doing such work as " Satan finds for 
 idle hands," so I am glad he achieved this marvel. 
 Space and time hurry me now, into the Chimney 
 Room, so called from a fire-place in the center. It 
 ■^as made in 1782, and is splendidly ornamented with 
 
LETTER SEVEN. 101 
 
 topazes, moss, and eye-agates, amethysts, red, green 
 and striped jaspers, cornelians, Saxon pearls, and 
 rows of diamond-like pebbles. 
 
 *'Do look at these diamonds?" exclaimed Mr. P. 
 
 *' See how they throw back the sunlight. What 
 mao;nificence I " 
 
 They were indeed, very deceptive; but I knew 
 hundreds of real diamonds each as large as a pea, 
 would represent a value too fabulous to be exhausted 
 upon a fire-place. Besides this chimney-piece were 
 tables in Florentine and Roman mosaic ; but this is a 
 kind of workmanship I do not yet understand. The 
 Florentine tables have a black background adorned 
 with figures of birds, fruits and flowers; the Eoman 
 seems entirely formed of little square bits of stone or 
 glass arranged in various patterns. On these tables, 
 and on brackets around the walls, are cabinets of. 
 amber, costly basins in enamel, fruit dishes studded 
 with precious stones, vases, cups, and boxes formed 
 of ostrich eggs, and of nautilus shells set in silver-gilt. 
 
 "Now, let us go into the Silver Room," said our 
 leader, and we followed. For a moment we stood at 
 the entrance to take a view of the glittering treasures. 
 
 " Oh ! you mean the Gold Room," said I; for every- 
 thing in view wore the hue of this precious metal. 
 
 Now was his time to retort : " All is not gold that 
 glitters;" for the material was solid silver, washed 
 with gold. 
 
 The first thing that attracted my attention was a 
 baptismal basin, which is still used at the christenings 
 
102 DRESDEN. 
 
 of the royal family. On it, in relief, are the figures 
 of John the Baptist, Christ and the Apostles, engaged 
 in sprinkling infants. One of the most finished works 
 of the Green Vaults, is one of the jewel-boxes in this 
 room. It was made by Wenceslas Jamnitzer, a Nu- 
 remberg artist of the sixteenth century. The lid has 
 reposing on it a Venus, and around the edges are ani- 
 mals and insects of various kinds. The whole thing is 
 as symmetrically finished as if it had been moulded 
 according to the modern plans. 
 
 One of the old Nuremburg clocks, is quite a curios- 
 ity. With its machinery are connected a Centaur 
 with Diana on his back, and the dogs of the huntress 
 at his side. At the stroke of each hour Centaur, 
 Diana and the dogs, all begin to move their eyes 
 about, the dogs spring forward as if suddenly wakened, 
 while the Centaur shoots an arrow from his silver 
 cross-bow. Near this were two goblets in the form of 
 a giant with his globe on his shoulders. By the means 
 of some hidden mechanism, these goblets move them- 
 selves around the table, as if inviting each in turn to 
 partake of their contents. These were once the 
 property of Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. 
 
 The fifth room is filled with valuable vessels cut out 
 of lapis-liizuli, jasper, chalcedony, agate, onyx, rock- 
 crystal, and cornelian. Most interesting to me was a 
 goblet of rock-crystal, once owned and used by Mar- 
 tin Luther. Opening from this hall is a corner- closet, 
 which contains more than two hundred and forty 
 specimens of beautiful carvings in ivory and precious 
 
LETTER SEVEN. 103 
 
 stones, and a large number of misshapen pearls. In 
 this small area you could be amused for hours in 
 studying out the quaint designs into which the stones 
 are wrought. A laroje emerald is cut into the form of 
 a bunch of grapes, which is being borne by enameled 
 golden figures of Caleb and Joshua. The largest of 
 the pearls is in the form of a heart, and is taken as 
 the chest of a representation of Sennor Pepe, the 
 court-dwarf of Charles II. It is half as large as a 
 hen's egg, and there are a number of others almost as 
 large. Each one is made to fit in that part of the 
 body which it resembles, whether it be the arm of a 
 dancing-girl, the helmet of a warrior, the stomach of a 
 Falstaff, or the breast of a diamond winged sparrow. 
 
 The seventh, or Wooden Room, contains chiefly 
 shrines in which are preserved the cases for packing 
 up these treasures in time of war. We tarried only a 
 few minutes here, for the hour for closing up was near 
 at hand, and we had not yet seen the royal jewels. 
 
 But for the gradual preparation of the mind afforded 
 in passing from bronze to ivory, from ivory to silver- 
 gilt, from silver-gilt to jasper, chalcedony, crystal, and 
 turquoise, we would have found it difllcult to believe our 
 senses as they revealed to us the glittering treasures of 
 this collection. On our right, what seems a real live 
 negro with skin of darkest dye and eyes of that startling 
 white peculiar to his race, starts up to meet us. He 
 holds out to us, as if begging our acceptance, a great 
 piece of ore covered with Peruvian emeralds in their 
 natural state. To the left, is a shrine divided into six 
 
104 DRESDEN. 
 
 compartments, and here are the jewels; the various 
 classes of precious stones, among these are some of the 
 first water; indeed, they are not to be surpassed by any 
 collection in Europe. In the first is a garniture of rose 
 diamonds, composed of thirty vest buttons, thirty coat 
 buttons, four shoe buckles, a sword in whose hilt are 
 seven hundred and eighty rosettes, and conspicuous 
 above all the rest, a large green diamond, said to be the 
 only one in the world. In fact, there are enough of 
 these glittering gems in this one case, to render half 
 the bridegrooms in America as enviably miserable as 
 Gen. Sherman's son-in-law. For the Queen, there is 
 a necklace of thirty-eight stones ; a pin for the cloak, 
 composed of fifty-one large, and six hundred small 
 brilliants; a pair of beautiful ear-rings, and other orn- 
 aments. In this same division are sixty-two rings, 
 two of which belonged to Martin Luther, and one of 
 them to Melanchthon. Next comes an equal profusion 
 of rubies, next to these, emeralds, and last, the sap- 
 phires. 
 
 But such a description as this is too much like photo- 
 graphing the sun. Turn to the Arabian Nights, and 
 read the wonders effected by the Spirit of the Lamp, 
 and perhaps you can guess the rest. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
LETTER EIGHT. 105 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 Dresden, August 6, 1875. 
 Master Eugene D. Lindsay: 
 
 mY DEAR BROTHER: As you say you are 
 scarce of reading matter, I have concluded to 
 give you a little history of my experience last Saturday 
 afternoon. All the week Mr. P. and his room-mate 
 have been talking about the fun that was going on 
 at the Vogel-Wiese. About twelve every night we 
 could hear them stumbling up stairs in the dark, upset- 
 ting the table and chairs in the hall, and finally kicking 
 their boots off, in their haste to get to bed. There is 
 only a partition between their room and ours, so when 
 morning comes we overhear their remarks as they 
 laughingly comment upon their evening's merriment 
 at the Vogel-Wiese. We asked Mr. R. whether or not 
 this was a proper place for ladies to go. 
 
 He said: — 
 
 " Oh ! everybody goes : but you had better wait till 
 Saturday, for then the King is to be there. " 
 
 I invited Mrs. R.to bear us company, and about three 
 we packed ourselves into a street car along with the 
 rest of the " Dutchy " washerwomen, cooks, chamber- 
 maids and shop-girls, who were out on a holiday excur- 
 
106 DRESDEN. 
 
 sion. There were plenty of men too on the same car; 
 but they were on top. It was show enough for me to 
 ' watch the faces and costumes of these people, and to 
 witness their glee ; so I was rather sorry when the 
 sound of hand organs, the sight of tents, and the sud- 
 den halt of the car indicated that the ride was over. 
 We pitched out along with the remaining forty-nine of 
 our car load, and found ourselves standing several 
 inches deep in the sand. A large meadow was in front 
 of us ; all alive with men and women and children. Tbe 
 first thing we came upon was a " Flying Dutchman," 
 unlike any I ever saw at home. When I first saw it, it 
 was not in motion, and it appeared an opencircular tent 
 with an elevated platform for a floor. On this platform 
 were figures of horses, swans, elephants, and other ani- 
 mals. Pillars of slender proportions rose, at intervals, 
 from this platform to support the canvas stretched 
 overhead. A central portion is inclosed with crimson 
 velvetine hangings adorned with beads, and I think this 
 must conceal the pivot-post on which the whole thing 
 turns. At any rate, while we were looking, boys and 
 girls, men and women, had mounted the various ani- 
 mals of the platform, till not one was left riderless. 
 Then, suddenly, at the beating of a drum, the whole 
 thing began to whirl so fast as to make your head swini. 
 Baskets of glass beads, alternating with lamps, are sus- 
 pended all around the movable tent, making at night a 
 most bewildering scene. As they began to move two 
 mimic Turks, sitting demurely with legs crossed, began 
 to pitch apples into their mouths, taking a whole one 
 
LETTER EIGHT. 107 
 
 at once, seeming to swallow it instantly, then smack- 
 ing their lips and opening them ready for the next. 
 These were automatons, and there is another one on 
 top, who kept up a constant ringing of bells. There 
 were dozens of these flying machines scattered over the 
 grounds, some of them two-story affairs. One of 
 them diflered from the rest. It had a fixed platform 
 on which a circle of seats was fastened together and 
 moving on wheels were made to revolve, on the veloc- 
 ipede principle. About four men, dressed like clowns 
 in striped pants, tight-fitting jacket and red dunce-cap, 
 had to keep this thing going. They would place the 
 right foot on a lever which turns all the wheels half way 
 round ; then the left foot comes to the aid, and your 
 head grows dizzy again. 
 
 From this show, we directed our steps towards the 
 three wooden birds with outspread wings, which 
 seemed to have just alighted upon three tall upright 
 posts out at one extremity of the meadow. The mid- 
 dle bird, which was up one hundred and twenty-five 
 or fifty feet in the air, looked as if it had been par- 
 tially picked. Its tail was gone, its wings were almost 
 featherless, in his bared breast were several wounds. 
 This proved that there were in the throng those who 
 knew how to handle the cross-bow with skill. It was 
 to encourage practice in this art that the annual exhibi- 
 tion at the Vogel-Wiese (Bird Meadow) was estab- 
 lished. The pieces of the bird knocked off by the 
 various marksmen are collected and weighed, and to 
 
108 DRESDEN. 
 
 him who has the greatest aggregate the prize is 
 given. 
 
 •'I wonder if the King has come yet!" was the 
 thought which led us in the direction of the shooting- 
 gallery. 
 
 No, and we learned he would not be there for an 
 hour. We tarried not long to watch the arrows fly 
 from peasant fingers. In the entrance to his Majesty's 
 tent stood two footmen, looking as if they had just 
 stepped out of a band-box, so very white were their 
 stockings, their gloves, their vests, and their shirt- 
 fronts. Their cutaway coats were of some light cloth, 
 their knee pants of dark velvet, their dainty slippers 
 of black kid. Two soldiers were standing guard, but 
 they looked as if a nap would suit them better. 
 
 *' Well, shall I show you around? " asked Mrs. E. 
 "My husband and I were out the other day, and I 
 know where the curiosities are." 
 
 We readily assented. It was like walking down the 
 street, looking at the display in the shop windows, 
 and noting the various occupations of the passers-by. 
 There were innumerable stalls at which persons 
 were raffling for imitation silver goblets, cups and 
 such like. Ever and anon, we found a group of 
 boys, or young men shooting with air-guns at a target 
 on which was written " -6ec^ ist hier.^' When one 
 would hit the black, the figure of a man would dart out 
 from behind the board, stuff his pockets full of bank- 
 notes and instantly disappear. From Mrs. E. we 
 
LETTER EIGHT, 109 
 
 learned that this Beck was a notorious scoundrel, who 
 had recently escaped with a large amount of the 
 deposits in the Dresden bank. 
 
 "A necklace of real coral and a locket, for only one 
 groschen" (two and a half cents), cried a voice beside 
 us, and turning we encountered a Jew with thousands of 
 these boasted chains around his neck, hundreds on his 
 arms, twenty in his hand. These he was rapidly dis- 
 tributing to the multitude at the marvelously low price 
 I have mentioned. 
 
 " Oh ! do see those white rats," cried Mrs. R., and 
 following the direction of her eye, we discovered a 
 man on whose head and shoulders frolicked a host of 
 these pretty little creatures, and a cage beside him was 
 literally covered with the fair nibblers. 
 
 Amid such a medley, no one thing could long com- 
 mand attention. There Avere tents all along, and in 
 front of each stood men or women crying out the 
 merits of what might be^ hidden within. On several 
 tents were the portraits of immense women — women 
 beside whom I would be a mere infant. Before one of 
 these, two men were exhibiting a belt which they 
 declared would fit her exactly. It was as large around 
 as the middle hoop of a tobacco hogshead. 
 
 *' Come in! come in!" they entreated, "she is 
 most beautiful." 
 
 We feared we might die from envy, should we see 
 so much beauty in one lump, so we did not go in. 
 On the opposite canvas was depicted the "Living 
 
110 DRESDEN. 
 
 Skeleton," a man so thin you could count every rib 
 and follow the outline of every muscle. 
 
 " If opposites attract," some one suggested, " they 
 had better keep strict guard over that pair, or there 
 may be a runaway match." 
 
 Indeed, such may have been the result; I am not 
 prepared to say. 
 
 Apes, monkeys, and bears, chasing each other up 
 and down some upright posts, formed the advertise- 
 ment of a small menagerie and circus. A little girl 
 playfully twirling a serpent around her head and neck 
 invited us to witness the wonderful feats to be per- 
 formed behind the curtain. But I must not forget to 
 mention the flea-show. These German fleas, or at 
 least one family of German fleas, have been taught 
 that hopping is ungraceful. Four of them were hitched 
 to a little carriage, two others sat upright in the seat as 
 if conversing, while a third acted as coachman. 
 
 *'Well, let's go back now and wait for the King," 
 said Mrs. E. 
 
 We returned by a new route, and thus came upon 
 new scenes. At one place a man had before him a 
 series of pictures, representing love, matrimony, bur- 
 glary, murder and other exciting events. Pointing to 
 these illustrations the owner of the scenes related a 
 narrative of which the pictured characters were the 
 heroes. 
 
 We past next the cake-sellers. These stood upon a 
 platform, and behind them, piled up like clap-boards, 
 
LETTEE EIGHT. Ill 
 
 were the delicious ( I) slabs of gingerbread. These 
 were sold on the lottery plan. " Einen groschen, 
 meine Dame!" (one groschen, my lady) squeaked a 
 wiry, sharped-faced woman, holding out a ticket as 
 far as she could reach. " Einen groschen, meine 
 Dame," echoed in guttural tones a tall portly sister 
 behind her ; and the same refrain was taken up by a 
 wheezy, broken-winded man, handed by him to another, 
 and so on the whole length of the platform. Ever and 
 anon, some one of the crowd was moved to try his 
 luck, and when a certain number of tickets were sold 
 they were put in the wheel, and the fortunate one 
 marched off with his prize under his arm. 
 
 It was now time for the King ; already a dense 
 crowd was assembled around the shooting-place, and a 
 whole company of their beautifully dressed police 
 were just in front of us. We pushed through the 
 throng, for we were determined to see the King, at all 
 events. At the command of the police the crowd fell 
 back till there was left a space of twenty-five or thirty 
 feet around the royal tent. Only one man separated 
 me from this open space ; but alas I he was smoking a 
 detestable cigar. The wind was blowing towards me, 
 so I was getting as much of the smoke as was he. I 
 turned to escape the nuisance, but found myself closed 
 in from all sides. An ugly little hunchbacked dwarf 
 just behind me, rubbing his dirty shoulders against 
 the ends of my long hat ribbons as he vainly endeavored 
 to see through my obstructing body. Poor fellow I 
 this was seeing the King under difficulties. There was 
 
112 DRESDEN. 
 
 no lack of sympathy for one who was crowded ; every 
 face wore more or less of that agony which results from 
 occupying a space whose dimensions are less than those 
 of your body. 
 
 " If you want these boots, just wait till I can take 
 them off and I'll give them to you," said one fellow 
 to another who was treading on his toes. 
 
 " To think such a fine gentlemen would push like a 
 peasant boy ! ' ' said a girl turning angrily upon some 
 one behind her. To be called a " fine gentleman " so 
 gratified his vanity, that he smiled complacently, and 
 did his best to resist the pressure from behind. 
 
 " He's coming ! He's coming I " cried rqy smoker, 
 and, for a moment, he ceased to puff the smoke into 
 my face. 
 
 Everything was now forgotten, except the looked- 
 for display of royalty. As for myself, I had eyes 
 only for the opening through which I must catch the 
 first glimpse of the first live king it had ever been my 
 fortune to meet. The two footmen at the entrance were 
 how joined by a number of elegantly clad fellows, whose 
 scarlet and gold seemed handsome enough for their 
 master. They looked the same expectancy which we 
 felt. We were just beginning to think the time long, 
 when two riders dashed gallantly forward, and drew 
 rein immediately beside us. In another instant eight 
 little boys, bearing standards, ran past us and stationed 
 themselves on each side of the broad steps which led to 
 the tented room. Following these, hke a flash, came 
 the carriage of the king. Lightly sprang the accom- 
 
LETTER EIGHT. 113 
 
 panying courtier to the ground, and quite as lightly, 
 His Majesty followed. In another moment horsemen, 
 pages, and carriages had disappeared, and there stood 
 the king in the midst of his attendants, giving to each 
 a cordial shake of the hand. As soon as these quiet 
 salutations were finished, he crossed over to the shoot- 
 ing gallery, and not till then did the people utter a sin- 
 gle cheer. I had thought they cared naught for their 
 king; but now one deafening shout arose, and I was 
 satisfied. 
 
 The arrow wa,8 fixed in the gilded bow, and the bow 
 placed in the white-gloved hands of the sovereign. 
 
 " His Eoyal Majesty is going to shoot," announced 
 a crier in stentorian tones. 
 
 This was spoken as pompously as if to shoot an 
 arrow at a wooden bird were worthy of the great 
 Saxon soldier. A few brief notes on a French horn 
 followed this announcement, and, then, all breathless 
 we watched the flight of the arrow. Plump on the 
 breast of the most distant target, struck the well aimed 
 shaft, and a band in the background burst into 
 triumphant strains. Again and again, he aimed at the 
 same spot; but each time his strong arm sent the dart 
 too high in air. Sullenly the band kept still, and we 
 wished he would take better aim, if it were only for 
 the sake of the music. Once more he tipped the 
 wing, and once more the music broke forth in high 
 glee. He tried the distant bird no more after that, 
 but aimed at the nearer one, and with better success. 
 Not once did he miss, and in a short time there re- 
 8 
 
114 DRESDEN. 
 
 mained of the gaily plumaged bird only some fifty 
 square yards of scattered fragments. These pieces 
 were picked up, and placed upon a table near which 
 brother was standing, so he slipped into his pocket 
 one on which the king had left the print of his arrow. 
 This souvenir of the occas^ion we are preserving, and 
 value it almost as highly as we would a bit of one of 
 Mr. Lincoln's rails, or as " a nail of the true Cross." 
 Butl have written till there begins to grow upon me 
 a feeling of fatigue akin to that which followed that 
 afternoon's struggling with the crowd, so good-by. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 Dresden, August 9, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother Graham : 
 
 'O rapidly, midst the pleasing routine of study, 
 recitation and sight seeing do the days go by that 
 my week for writing always surprises me at its coming. 
 What shall I tell you this time? of some of the beauti- 
 ful gardens to which my afternoon walks with Mrs. 
 Rudolph (our teacher's wife) have led me? No; for 
 the " Grosze Garten " is a magnified image of all the 
 rest. Shall I describe the Picture Gallery ? No ; 
 
LETTER NINE. 115 
 
 for SO immense is it that not even my tenth visit has 
 given me a comprehension of its treasures. Freshest 
 in my mind are the events of last Saturday, and I 
 believe they are sufficiently characteristic of Saxony 
 to be of some interest. 
 
 At eight o'clock a. m., I was pouring intently over 
 one of Lessing's dramas, when some one called me to 
 the window. 
 
 "Don't close your book so reluctantly, " said my 
 friend, " here is a more interesting lesson for you. " 
 
 A lesson in military tactics it proved to be ; for, upon 
 looking out, what should meet my view but an array 
 of several hundred soldiers. They seemed provided 
 with all the necessary equipments for a campaign. 
 Numbers of wagons, laden with boats and timbers for 
 pontoon bridges, brought up the rear. An officer was 
 just making the circuit of the ranks to see if everything 
 was in readiness to move. So quietly had all these 
 men and vehicles taken their places that we had noticed 
 no unusual commotion in the street, and now they stood 
 in front of the depot waiting for the signal to enter 
 the cars. What could it all mean? Has France pre- 
 sumptuously violated her treaty, and thus rendered it 
 incumbent upon Germany to again chastise her? Per- 
 haps Austria had thrown off her timidity, and needed 
 to be re-convinced that peace with Germany is her best 
 policy? Unable to conjecture, I sought out our hostess 
 in order to ask her opinion. I found her sitting in her 
 balcony coolly darning her stockings. ** Dear me I " 
 thought I, '* these Germans are no more affected by 
 
116 DRESDEN. 
 
 signals of war than are the Americans at the ringing 
 of the fire-bell." 
 
 "Do tell me Miss S., what do you think of this 
 movement? " 
 
 " Ob 1 it is noting; I tink dey are going out for a 
 little minerva." 
 
 I was on the eve of asking, *' What ! Minerva I Do 
 your people really worship the goddess of Wisdom? " 
 but a second thought usually furnishes mie a key to 
 Miss S.'s English. 
 
 " Ah ! they are going out into the country to have a 
 mock battle^ are they? They are tired of doing noth- 
 ing." 
 
 Her eyes sparkled with triumph at the supposed 
 mastery of such an extensive English term, so I had 
 not the heart to tell her how far was her " little mi- 
 nerva "from a well matured maneuver . 
 
 After thus finding that war was not yet so imminent 
 as to make it necessary for us to flee to the ugly old 
 Castle, I resumed study. .Nine o'clock came, and with 
 it, as usual, our teacher. 
 
 "Ah!" said he, after the usual salutations, "did 
 you see those soldiers? That is what consumes all our 
 money, and keeps us forever poor." 
 
 In fact, you can not go out on the street; you can 
 not look out at the window ; you can not enter a church 
 or a public hall, but you are encountered by German 
 uniform. On this same afternoon, accompanied by 
 Miss S., I went to an Exposition of Saxon products, 
 which is open here all summer. Prominent among 
 
LETTER NINE. 117 
 
 manufactured articles are military trappings. In 
 one case is to be seen the gold and silver cord on large 
 spools; in the next, specimens of heavy fringe made 
 from the cord; and, finally, the complete epaulets. 
 Swords are there with hilts bedecked with gems and 
 gold ; innumerable caps, with graceful, waving plumes ; 
 whole stacks of their short cavalry guns and their 
 peculiar infantry muskets ; supplies of ammunition 
 beside them — in short one might imagine herself to 
 have fallen upon an encampment and that any moment 
 the warrior chieftans might come forward to don again 
 these habiliments but momentarily thrown aside. 
 
 But I wish you to see other parts of this collection, 
 so we will leave the war question for the present. If 
 we view the exposition with the intention of compar- 
 ing it with those we have seen at home, we will pro- 
 nounce it very small and very tasteless in arrangement; 
 but we must remember that only little Saxony contrib- 
 utes everything, and that the way to make it interesting 
 s to search for novelties amidst the confused mass. 
 At the very entrance to the next building one of the 
 sought for novelties presents itself in the shape of sev- 
 eral tall monumental piles of stone coal. Clustered 
 around them, as if waiting an opportunity to prepare 
 these monuments for Cinderella, were a large number 
 of the beautiful porcelain-covered stoves, I have before 
 mentioned. 
 
 " Oh ! Miss S., where is that perfume ? " I inquired, 
 as a most delightful odor became diffused around us. 
 
 "Come; I'll show you. " 
 
118 DRESDEN. 
 
 I followed till she stepped before a structure in the 
 form of a summer-house. Its eight pillars were of 
 various colors, and the covering overhead was of some 
 transparent, wax-like substance. On the floor was 
 scattered a profusion of artificial fruits and flowers, 
 evidently of the same material. 
 
 "What is it, Miss S.?" 
 
 "What is it! why soap, of course," and now I rec- 
 ognized through all the gay attire, our every-day friend 
 of the toilet-table. At one side were piled up, higher 
 than our heads, great marble-like blocks of it, and 
 through several glass cases various fancy designs 
 appeared. If the French could only make a successful 
 raid upon this gallery, Paris hotels might become able 
 to furnish their lodgers with this indispensable article. 
 (I must admit, however, that German hotels are no 
 better than the French in this respect. ) 
 
 *' Oh ! look what lujiy sausage, " ejaculated Miss S., 
 as her eyes fell upon a lot of bolognas strung along 
 the adjacent walls. 
 
 " How nice ! " I responded; but I meant how nice 
 that the fragrant soap delivered me from an olfactory 
 perception of its presence. Please to observe that 
 word luJly (lovely), for it is characteristic of Miss S. 
 She says her coarse, ungainly washerwoman is lujiy ; 
 that her saurkraut is lujiy ; that her cooking-range is 
 lujiy; in fact, she makes everything Zwj^y. Another 
 peculiarity of hers is to suppose that stupidity is a 
 purely objective term. 
 
LETTEE NINE. 119 
 
 As we walked through the machine-room, she 
 exclaimed with impatience : 
 
 " These stoopid machines; I do know noting at all 
 about dem." 
 
 Resisting the temptation ( I) to appropriate one of 
 the aforesaid bolognas, we ascended the stairs. Said 
 my companion : — 
 
 " Dis exposish' is noting. I did cry ven I was at 
 Vienna, dere were so many lufly dings." 
 
 *' Well, Miss S., here is something worthy of your 
 tears, I am sure," I replied, as we entered the lace 
 department. 
 
 This manufacture is extensively carried on, and 
 some of the most elegant pieces were wrought 
 by girls of only six years. You may infer that it is 
 comparatively very cheap, and such is the case. Indeed, 
 Mr. R. says that out in the mountainous districts the 
 poor peasant women make it "for a mere song." 
 We passed now in succession the beautiful linens, the 
 goods of fur and plush, the floor mats, the very infe- 
 rior glassware, and finally stopped beside a man who 
 was engaged in weaving silk — weaving in the good, 
 old-fashioned way — not by machinery, but tramping 
 with his foot first one treadle, then the other, and pass- 
 ing the shuttle back and forth with his hands, lightly 
 tapping each strand of the woof into its place. When 
 one of the slender threads of the warp broke, he 
 sought patiently among the twelve sets of harness till 
 it was found and mended. He wove an inch during 
 
120 DRESDEN. 
 
 the five miuutes I stood watching, so, ray friends, if 
 any of you want me to order you a dress, you can com- 
 pute how long it would take him to prepare it. That 
 would be a very nice exercise for some member of my 
 former classes in mental arithmetic. I do not advise 
 you to buy a Dresden silk, though, if you are wanting 
 something handsome. Neither do I advise you to 
 come here for shoes, that is unless you wish to learn 
 to walk on stilts. Oh ! you can find them of every 
 color, bright blue, buff and green being the predomi- 
 nant shades — all embroidered with white, and laced 
 up to a height of twelve inches or more. Of course, 
 these must be very costly, but among the plainer ones 
 you find nothing better. One pair of boots had the 
 tops ornamented with pictures of the king and queen, 
 and one of the floor msts bad a similar central design. 
 It seems to me very much out of place to tread thus 
 upon the images of royalty. 
 
 But I am making my letter too long. The beautiful 
 Meissen china, I will describe to you, when I shall have 
 gone out to the little town and witnessed the different 
 processes by which it is made. The exposition would 
 be very defective without a miniature beer garden 
 attached ; and in spite of the mute testimony of the 
 numberless guitars and violins, accordions and flutes, 
 pianos and organs, a stranger might doubt whether 
 these instruments were for home use or solely for 
 export. But some strains of music attracted us, just 
 as we were grown weary of walking around, and led 
 
LETTER NINE. 121 
 
 by the sound, we were soon in the midst of a quietly 
 cheerful crowd, who sat grouped around the tables, 
 sipping beer or coffee, and listening to the music. 
 
 " Well, Miss L., may I treat you to a cup of coffee, 
 so dat we may get to sit down and rest ? ' ' asked 
 Miss S. 
 
 " ^o, thanks. Treat yourself to the coffee and me 
 to a glass of water, and that will effect the same end." 
 
 This was my first experience of being seated among 
 beer-drinkers — I mean in this public manner — and 
 I am glad to say everything was as orderly as in one of 
 our home restaurants. I had supposed that the music 
 was merely an excuse, and that the beer-drinking was 
 the main object, but not so. One man, whose face was 
 anything but sentimental, sat down opposite us, and 
 ordered a glass of beer. The waiter brought it, the 
 man rose, took his purse from his pocket, paid his 
 groschen, and was just putting his purse back when 
 the band began to play. His hand ceased instantly to 
 move, his attitude became that of intent listening, 
 every sense was absorbed in that of hearing ; and thus 
 he stood, forgetful of the foaming liquor, till the last 
 note died away. 
 
 EUDOBA. 
 
122 DRESDEN. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 Dresden, August 22, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 NOTHEE, Lord's Day has dawned upon us 
 from German skies ; and as the east brightens 
 at ushering in the holy day, so our hearts glow afresh 
 with newly-kindled patriotism. No other custom of 
 our native land so endears it to our memory, as the uni- 
 versal observance of this period of rest and devotion ; 
 and no peculiarity of this country strikes us more 
 harshly, than its common neglect. 
 
 What sacred ( I) sound, think you, roused me from 
 this morning's slumbers ! Had I never heard it before 
 I mio;ht have thouo-ht it the death-shriek of some 
 hideous monster of the night. Three times in succes- 
 sion the shrill piercing notes rent the air, and then came 
 the tramp of many feet on the pavement below. It was 
 not necessary for me to go to the window ;. I have learned 
 by heart this every-day scene. The startled, instantly 
 terminated cries, were those of a steam engine, which 
 is here encouraged to ply its trade without respect to 
 times or seasons. There is no tone of reverence, no 
 echo of the church bell in its defiant notes; plainly the 
 heart which moves it, has no sympathy with the many 
 
LETTER TEN. 123 
 
 wretched creatures it brings again to-day to the field 
 of their increasing toil. At the given signal, the doors 
 are thrown open, and out pour the ant-like horde, 
 diverging in many directions. Poor women I their 
 burdens are not a whit lighter than yesterday, not a 
 whit more possible is it for them to walk erect, not a 
 whit stronger or more refreshed will to-morrow find 
 them. What would you think of asking a woman to 
 help you remove your household effects, by carrying 
 tables, carpet, beds, etc., on her back? A German 
 peasant woman wouldn't be astonished at such a 
 request, and I do not know but you would find it 
 cheaper than hiring wagons for the purpose. Only 
 yesterday one of them passed our window with half a 
 dozen chairs and two large baskets firmly supported 
 upon her shoulders. She must have been a mathe- 
 matician to thus accurately determine the center of 
 gravity of such an anomalous figure. 
 
 But not only do these people, whose daily necessities 
 require it, work on Sunday ; but in every shady nook 
 you may see well-dressed women leisurely sewing and 
 chatting ; along every garden path you may meet 
 some neat looking lass mechanically plying her knit- 
 ting needles while her eyes are busy with the sur- 
 rounding scene. In going down the steps the other 
 Sunday on our way to church, we had to lift our skirts 
 to escape the fresh paint two men were applying; two 
 others were in the act of adjusting ladders to the out- 
 side wall of an opposite palace, ready to engage in 
 similar labor. 
 
124 DRESDEN. 
 
 I was quite shocked one day last week at a conversa- 
 tion with Frau Kudolph. 
 
 " That is beautiful lace you are making, Mrs. R. ; 
 but it is very tedious is it not? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh ! no, I commenced this piece on Sunday, and 
 it is now nearly finished." 
 
 I made no further comment ; for I had thought that 
 one so ladylike and intelligent would better know her 
 duty. 
 
 But you ask, are there no churches in Dresden ? no 
 teachers of the Word? no Sunday-schools? This last 
 question I put to Miss S. a few minutes ago, and with 
 a self-satisfied air she replied : — 
 
 "No, we are not so pious." 
 
 In regard to the number of buildings we climbed to- 
 da}^, the three hundred steps leading to one of the city 
 watch towers, and from that point counted ten promi- 
 nent steeples. But the piety of Rome can not be esti- 
 mated by the size of St. Peter's; neither do the tall 
 spires of this city necessarily indicate the heavenward 
 aspirations of her people. One must go within, 
 mingle with the cono-reo-ations, read their hearts in their 
 faces, and test the quality of the spiritual food appor- 
 tioned to them. This we have tried to do, and I will 
 give the result of our observations. 
 
 On the first Lord's day we attended the American 
 Episcopal service, the only representative of our 
 religious bodies in the city. We felt quite at home as 
 we looked around upon the half hundred of our 
 sojourners in this strangedand. There was not a Ger- 
 
LETTER TEN". 125 
 
 man face in the audience, so I suppose any proselyt- 
 ing efforts they may have made have proved futile. I 
 went to my oracle, Miss Schuster, and asked her in 
 regard to this matter. 
 
 " Oh !" she said, " when any of our people should 
 want to join de Episcopal Church dey just go 
 to de Roman CatJiolic, which is all de same." 
 
 But we all enjoyed the services, for the prayers were 
 read with feeling, and the sermon delivered in simple 
 and forcible style. We have been there once since 
 and found about half the congregation the same as 
 before, while the other half were new to us. From 
 this I infer that there are about twenty-five regular 
 attendants. They hold their meetings in a private 
 house of one of their most zealous members, and hope 
 by voluntary contributions to ultimately erect a 
 church. 
 
 Our next experience was with the High Church of 
 England. Here the prayers are neither read nor sung, 
 but the whole service is tortured into a succession of 
 meaningless iatnbics. The minister, in his long white 
 robe, with elapsed, uplifted hands, downcast eyes, and 
 devoutly lengthened visage, slowly and noiselessly 
 approached and knelt beside a little altar, and from 
 his lips proceeded the soulless sounds to which the 
 congregation made responses. In his inspired vocab- 
 ulary " Temptation " became *' Tempti shun;'^ 
 "Kingdom" was transformed into ^^ king dumh.^* 
 Satan never could have recognized his name, accented 
 as it was on the last syllable. I have often wondered 
 
126 DRESDEN. 
 
 where Eaphael and Michael Angelo found models for 
 their St. Sebastians, St. Sixtuses, and St. Ad infinit- 
 ums; but with this reproduction of the ancient Pharisee 
 before me, I ceased to wonder. Mayhap those wont 
 to participate in this abuse of the Enojlish language felt 
 edified thereby, but I was not sensible of any wonderful 
 spiritual development. 
 
 A hiindl'ul of Scotch Presbyterians complete the 
 number of English-speaking congregations in the city, 
 and to these we next paid our respects. Suffice it to 
 say there was more ventilation in the room, more 
 variation in the tone of the speaker, speedier termina- 
 tion to his prayers, than we found in Edinburgh. 
 
 We decided to go next to the church which is 
 patronized by Saxon royalty. I had supposed that 
 the throne which so generously protected Luther 
 would doubtless yet observe its tenets ; but not so : 
 Albert and his Queen are Roman Catholics. Augus- 
 tus the Strong, about 1750, became a convert to their 
 faith, and thereby won a crown. It was not, however, 
 the never-failing, spiritual crown which is the usually 
 promised reward of faith, but the fleeting sovereignty 
 of Poland. The oath taken by Augustus compels his 
 successors to adhere to the Romish form of worship. 
 As proof of his zeal in the new cause, he erected on 
 the south bank of the Elbe, a costly cathedral. I 
 haven't time to introduce you to the fifty-nine saints 
 who stand guard around the flat copper roof, nor to the 
 half dozen others sheltered by the niches around the 
 walls. A covered passage connects the chapel with an 
 
LETTER TEN. 127 
 
 upper story of the royal Palace so the king may not 
 be exposed to the vulgar eye as he repairs to his devo- 
 tions. 
 
 There is cold comfort in contemplating the stony 
 saints, which looked down from the roof of the royal 
 church, let us enter without delay. Some dozen stone 
 steps lead to a door through which the sound of music 
 greets the ear. What ! have we made a mistake? Is 
 this an opera house instead of a church? No organ 
 unaided could produce such strains. At any rate, 
 we'll open the door and investigate the matter. 
 What a crowd I How many Americans, too, among 
 them ! The whole aisle is filled with elegantly dressed 
 ladies and gentlemen. More handsome silks and 
 tasteful hats than we have seen this side of New York I 
 Some seem intent on displaying them, too; for they 
 keep up a constant promenade the whole length of the 
 open space. I see nothing devotional except an occa- 
 sional raising of the eyes towards heaven. These 
 upward glances are all directed towards the same point ; 
 let us follow the promenaders, till we reach a position 
 commanding a view of the whole immense nave. 
 The great square columns are too far from beautiful 
 to tempt one to even a moment's study of their archi- 
 tecture. But half these columns were passed, and you 
 have found an answer to the query, *' What brings 
 these people here? " In the gallery, some forty feet 
 above, is the grand organ, whose thousand pipes are 
 now swelling with sublimest notes. But this is not all. 
 At every new touch of the organ keys twenty-four vio- 
 
128 DRESDEN, 
 
 lin bows are swept by skillful hands across the strings 
 of as many instruments, while the well trained voices 
 of the choir rise and fall in harmony with the exultant 
 or penitential strains. The words are unintelligible; 
 the sight of a full orchestra suggests no idea of worship ; 
 those among whom we are standing, are absorbed 
 either in the music, or in displaying their new clothes. 
 More probable than ever, grows the conclusion that 
 we have stumbled upon some place of amusement. 
 But there is a change. The grand chorus is stilled, 
 and a voice from the opposite end of the nave begins 
 a solitary chant. Ah I it is a priest ; gorgeously ar- 
 rayed; and, as we let our eyes fall, we see that hitherto 
 we have been observing only spectators, leaving the 
 worshipers unnoted. Qaite a number of them are on 
 their knees, counting their beads as they mumble off 
 the Pater nosters and " Ave Marias." More than 
 one, however, allows himself disturbed in his devotions 
 by the shifting throng of curious lookers-on ; the 
 young, especially, try in vain to keep their eyes from 
 wandering. We return home without even a crumb 
 of instruction in righteousness, doubting not, that even 
 the kneeling boliovers left as hungry as they came. 
 
 But Catholicism, though professed by the throne, 
 has comparatively few representatives in Saxony. It 
 is Lutheranism which erects the tallest spires in their 
 large cities, and furnishes the only places of worship 
 for the surrounding villages. Let us, then, while the 
 impressions of the Catholic service are still fresh, 
 betake ourselves to the Frauenkirche, that we may see 
 
LETTER TEN. 129 
 
 to what extent Luther has effected a reformation. 
 Ah ! the moment we enter one of the many doors, 
 which occur at regular intervals around the walls, we 
 feel that we are indeed at church. There is a silver 
 crucifix beneath the wings of the angel hovering over 
 the altar ; but none of those entering bow or cross 
 themselves in its presence. There is no orchestra to 
 attract a worldly-minded crowd, but a magnificent 
 organ times the music of the fifteen hundred who 
 unite in a chorus of praise to the Almighty. I see no 
 one without a hymn book, and no one but is using it. 
 After two or three such songs, the congregation rises 
 while the preacher reads the passage from which he 
 intends to speak. Every one seems so solemn. Look 
 all over the room, but you will look in vain for the 
 school girls' corner with its characteristic bright 
 •ribbons, restless eyes and fluttering fans. Indeed, so 
 coquettish an act as fanning one's self is strictly for- 
 bidden. 
 
 But another song is being sung, and we shall be 
 thought heathen, if we are caught staring about. 
 Now, the preacher who read awhile ago from the front 
 of the altar, appears in the little cylindrical pulpit, 
 which looks like a beautiful chrysalis clinging to the 
 wall above. He does not have to pause in the course 
 of his sermon to request the attention of his audience ; 
 there are among them no boys exchanging winks, nods, 
 and whispers till on tho verge of laughter ; I hear no 
 old men snoring from lack of interest. But the ser- 
 mon ends, and all with bowed heads silently listen, 
 9 
 
130 DRESDEN. 
 
 while one of the three prayers at the back of the 
 hymn book is read. A concluding song is then sung, 
 and then " all whose consciences so dictate," are 
 invited to remain to partake of the memorial feast. 
 It seems as if nobody's conscience so dictates, for 
 there is a general movement towards the various 
 places of exit. We'll wait till last, any way, to see 
 what more may be done. 
 
 Ah ! about one hundred are assembled around the 
 altar, on which beneath the four lighted candles, the 
 cup and loaf are awaiting consecration. Alas ! in this 
 Luther failed to reach the truth. How could he think 
 and teach that such words as the preacher is now 
 chanting, have power to work the miracle of Transub- 
 stantiation? The invocation is over, and on the left 
 of the altar stands one minister with the wafer, while 
 on the right is another with the wine. By fives, the 
 men first, the communicants approach; the minister 
 breaks off a morsel, and puts it in the mouth of each. 
 In the same order, they pass around behind the altar 
 to the right, where they receive the wine. 
 
 So we have witnessed the entire service instituted by 
 the great Reformer; what think we of it, do you say? 
 Well, I think I'll go again. Despite the foreign 
 tongue and the foreign faces, it is more like home ~ 
 than any place we have been. True, we could dis- 
 pense with the organ ; but this one does no great 
 harm, since the people do not allow it to drown out 
 their voices. One could see very well in the day- 
 time without the caudles they keep burning ; but for 
 
LETTER TEN. 131 
 
 those who would see the **real presence** in this sa- 
 crament something more than natural light is, of course 
 needed. 
 
 Shortly after our arrival in Dresden, we came, one 
 morning, upon a queer looking building whose like we 
 had never seen before save in the artistic designs which 
 served as way-marks in the school books of our child- 
 hood. We inquired of Mr. R. the nature of the build- 
 ing, and he replied : — 
 
 *' Oh ! that is the Russian Church. Didn't you know 
 the Czar was here last Sunday to dedicate it? It is but 
 a toy compared with its prototypes, the magnificent 
 temples of Russia ; but they are all built after this 
 same model. Its minaret and five gilded domes are 
 very imposing in effect. Go there, if you would see 
 the whole Grecian service in miniature. " 
 
 In accordance with this advice, after a few weeks, 
 we presented ourselves at the entrance of the sacred 
 precincts. At the vestibule we were met by a man 
 who walked on tip-toe, and with his finger on his lip. 
 He whispered something in my ear in a tone so low that, 
 had it been English, it would have been unintelligible. 
 Thrice I made him repeat it, and, at last, found the 
 mysterious communication to be in these words : 
 ' ♦ Damen liiiks^ Herrn rech t, ' ' We then passed in , Kate 
 and I going, as directed, to the left. Brother to the 
 right. Every one was standing, for there was not a 
 seat in the room, except one or two chairs, evidently 
 the private property of some regular attendnnt. 
 Like the ancient Jewish Temple it is divided into two 
 
132 DRESDEN. 
 
 apartments, a screen of richly stained glass taking the 
 place of the embroidered veil. In the farther cham- 
 ber, corresponding to the Most Holy Place, stood a 
 priest beside the altar. Never was Aaron more gor- 
 geously arrayed than was this pretended follower of 
 the meek and lowly Jesus. A robe of green wrought 
 in gold trailed upon the floor; beneath was a rich tunic 
 of soft crimson silk. Whether he was confessing the 
 sins of the people, or what he was saying I know not ; 
 but at intervals some of the worshipers would make 
 the sign of the cross, vehemently repeating it several 
 times in succession. Others fell upon their knees and 
 bowed themselves till their foreheads touched the floor. 
 This prostrating of the body was chiefly confined to 
 our side of the house. One old lady, especially, 
 remained in this attitude till her breath and strength 
 were almost gone, then arose and sat down in her chair 
 till sufliciently recovered to repeat the process. One 
 broad-shouldered young man seemed equally devoted, 
 but his devotion was differently expressed. He stood 
 perfectly erect, and, every ten minutes, his right hand 
 would reluctantly leave off the delightful occupation 
 of stroking his sandy beard, rapidly describe upon his 
 chest the sextuple sign of the cross, then gladly resume 
 its former caressing movement. I believe he was 
 thinking more of conquering by the charm of his 
 goatee, than by the sign miraculously given to Con- 
 stantine. . 
 
 Whatever other good all these gestures, bowings, 
 and prostrations may afiect, I am sure they do not 
 
LETTER TEN. 133 
 
 entirely exorcise the evil spirit of selfishness; for Kate 
 put this to the test. One woman had been standing 
 all the time with her hand on the back of an unoccu- 
 pied chair. Kate felt as if she couldn't stand another 
 minute, so she stepped over and asked permission to 
 sit down a little. Understanding an assent to be given, 
 she, sank down with a sigh of relief and gave herself up 
 to the luxury of rest. In a moment she felt upon her 
 back the stroke of a hand ; but, thinking it accidental, 
 she continued to sit unmoved. In another moment the 
 blow was repeated, and this time with such force as to 
 leave no doubt of its meaning. Perhaps that is a Rus- 
 sian way of being polite, but, if so, their code of 
 etiquette is as peculiar as their liturgy. 
 
 Well, an hour and a half went by, its minutes marked 
 by bowings, its quarters by crossings, its halves by 
 prostrations, with here and there an episode furnished 
 by the priest. One minute he was at the altar with 
 his back to the congregation ; the next, he had turned 
 that we might perceive the mediocrity of his counten- 
 ance. Now, he withdrew into the other apartment, 
 while invisible hands closed upon him the sliding 
 screen; again, sallying forth unannounced, he was 
 rigrht among us in the aisle with his swinging censer. 
 Of course, the whole thing was pantomime to me, for 
 not a syllable did I understand. As the grand conclu- 
 sion he brought forth a golden crucifix, at sight of which 
 all the faithful pressed forward. For what purpose, 
 think you? Why, to bestow upon this idol a parting 
 kiss. Gray haired sires, lisping infants, aged mothers, 
 
134 DRESDEN. 
 
 blooming maidens, — all with equal eagerness touched 
 with their lips the sacred image. One, more zealous 
 than the rest, kissed not only the cross, but also the 
 toe of the Virgin painted on the screen, and other 
 sacred things upon the various altars. 
 
 You may think I have said enough on the Sunday 
 question ; but I have yet to tell you of the Albertinian 
 fest held last Sunday in the Grosze Garden. From an 
 inquiry, we learned that this is an institution annually 
 held for the benefit of the poor soldiers disabled during 
 the war of 1866. The Queen is protectress and presi- 
 dent of the Albertinian Society, and its members are 
 ladies of the first Saxon families. 
 
 *' But why is the fest celebrated on Sunday?** I 
 inquired of Frau Rudolph. , 
 
 " For the sake of a better attendance," she replied; 
 " and as it is for charitable purposes, it is as good as 
 going to church." 
 
 Well, we went, and a novel experience it was. As 
 soon as we were inside the gate our struggle with the 
 crowd began. 
 
 " There is the most distinguished actress of Dres- 
 den,*' said Miss S., as we came upon a group in whose 
 midst stood a tall, elegantly attired lady. 
 
 '* What are in those little white envelopes she is dis- 
 tributing," I asked. 
 
 *' Tickets. If the one that buys' is lucky, he'll 
 draw something nice with that." 
 
 "Ah I this is on the lottery plan, is it?" and just 
 then I caught upon the face of a buyer the well known 
 
LETTER TEN. 135 
 
 expression of disappointment, as his open envelope 
 displayed a blank within. But here is another more 
 fortunate; let's follow him to see what he has won. 
 He stops before a booth where three or four young 
 ladies are busily engaged in handing out to each appli- 
 cant the prize called for on his ticket. Our friend 
 receives a fancy " catch all," the handiwork of some 
 fair Albertinian. Another carries away an elegant 
 lamp as a trophy of her good luck. Portraits of the 
 King, work baskets, toys, neckties, and such other 
 articles, wait on the shelves till their respective num- 
 bers may be drawn. Seeing that there was nothing of 
 value in the collection, I inquired what might be the 
 price of the tickets. 
 
 *' Dat depends to de generosity of de von dat buy. 
 See dat vite haired man over dere mit his footman 
 behind him. He is much richer dan any udder man in 
 Dresden, I tink. He will pay five tollar for a ticket, 
 and he vill buy von dozen, for he does love dat lady 
 vat sells de tickets." 
 
 <*Whois she?" 
 
 "Pischler, who sing in de opera. She vill be mos' 
 happy, ven she get dat old Russian, and his lufly 
 palace." 
 
 By this time we were quite near the artificial lake, 
 which, with the swans floating upon its bosom, is one 
 of the most attractive features of the garden. But I 
 wondered how the mere beauty of the swans and the 
 crystal water could elicit such rapt attention on the 
 part of the thousands, who now surrounded it so 
 
136 DRESDEN. 
 
 entirely that we could not get even a glimpse. By 
 dint of much crowding, however, we drew nearer. 
 Near enough to see the swans? Yes. Near enough to 
 see the shadows in the water? Yes; but through 
 astonishment I forgot to look at them. On a platform 
 in the middle of the lake were some dozen dusky crea- 
 tures, each dressed in short white pants and blouse. 
 At first they were standing still, but suddenly a band 
 began playing, and as suddenly began these creatures 
 to perform such antics as I never saw before. 
 
 " What kind of human beings are they I " was my 
 first exclamation. 
 
 "They are Arabs," some- one responded* **Did 
 you ever see such gymnastic feats? " 
 
 Well, I never had, but I didn't wait to reply. We 
 left the spot immediately; but the only way to get to 
 the entrance was by making the circuit of the lake and 
 the motly crowd around it. While penetrating this 
 mass of humanity, we encountered a forcible reminder 
 of home, in the form of an extremely black specimen 
 of the African race. I felt like shaking hands with 
 Sambo, and inquiring about the " old folks at home," 
 but in a moment he was gone, and I saw him no more. 
 
 " I thought the King and Queen were to be here,'* 
 remarked some one. 
 
 *' Well, and so they are," was the response; ** they 
 are watching the Arabs." 
 
 Just then the music ceased, and a parting of the 
 throng with a respectful lifting of hats, enabled us to 
 distinguish the royal party. Besides the King and 
 
LETTER TEN. 13 7 
 
 Queen, there was Prince George, brother of the King, 
 his Princess, and their son, a boy of about twelve, who 
 is heir prospective of the Saxon throne. 
 
 "How shabby the Queen loolis," said Miss S, 
 *' Her dress is common, and that same hat with blue 
 ribbon I saw her wear in May." 
 
 " Oh ! she is not the Queen to-day, but one of the 
 people," said some disposed to be less critical ; and dur- 
 ing these remarks the whole party approached a booth, 
 under which an immense beer hogshead had been for 
 hours liberally pouring forth its contents for the thirsty 
 multitude. With alacrity the beer-seller filled to the 
 brim the glasses which had been in frequent use all 
 day, and presented them to his royal customers. Her 
 Majesty drank with apparent relish the whole glass of 
 foaming liquor, and the rest followed her example. 
 Next came the buying of lottery tickets, but how much 
 luck they had I do not know, for I did not follow 
 them all the way round. We were now quite near the 
 gate, and we were also quite ready to come home. 
 What more occurred after we left I know not, except 
 that at night the garden was illuminated, and a theatri- 
 cal entertainment was given. I suppose they must have 
 taken in a large sum of money, and if the end justi- 
 fies the means, the whole thing was decidedly praise- 
 worthy; but I have never been taught to consider 
 lotteries, gymnastics, or theatrical performances as 
 appropriate for Sunday. I think I could spend a life- 
 time in Germany without feeling the slightest tempta- 
 tion to attend another of the annual fests, no matter 
 
138 DRESDEN. 
 
 how many queens should take part in them or how 
 many glasses of beer each should drink. 
 
 We have but one more Sunday in Dresden, as we 
 propose leaving for Prague, Bohemia, on the last day 
 of September. Our stay here has been pleasant and 
 profitable, but I am not sorry the time has come for 
 entering upon new scenes. How I like Germany, you 
 may judge from my letters and from your previous 
 knowledge of my tastes. I am thankful I was not 
 born in this land, and hope that I may not be buried 
 here. I say this last because of the manner in which 
 the dead are treated. Several times we have seen the 
 funeral hearse slowly wending its way through the 
 streets, accompanied by one woman and ten or eleven 
 men in black uniforms. We supposed at first, that 
 they were merely taking the empty coffin to the house 
 of the deceased, but upon inquiry found that they were 
 on their way to the cemetery. 
 
 *' But, Miss S.," I asked, "don't the friends go to 
 the burial? " 
 
 " Oh ! no. If my sister should die, I would not go 
 to the grave. It is not expected of us. We hire three 
 men to attend to it, and the woman prepares the corpse 
 for the coffin." 
 
 <« How many horses were in the hearse you saw this 
 afternoon ? ' ' 
 
 " Only two, I think." 
 
 *< Oh ! that was a servant girl, then. The rich have six 
 horses ; but that is very expensive. With us one must 
 pay very dear even for dying." 
 
LETTER ELEVEN. 139 
 
 Now you understand why I would not like to die in 
 Germany. Of course the body from which the soul 
 has fled knows not whether the hands of love or cold 
 indifference are decking it for the tomb ; but I see not 
 how the living can forego the mournful pleasure of 
 strewing the flowers over what remains of the once 
 breathing clay. 
 
 Eudora. 
 
 LETTER XL 
 
 Dresden, September 26, 1875. 
 Dear Brother South : 
 
 tHIS has been such a busy week, that till now 
 I have have had no time for writing letters. 
 On to-morrow morning we recite to Prof. R. our last 
 lesson, and in anticipation of this, he has been putting 
 upon us double work for the last few days. Besides 
 that, Kate has been taking a few Italian lessons, and 
 I listened, one day, to see if I could learn enough to 
 help her any. Miss S.'s rejected widower is her 
 teacher, a German, but one who has learned Italian by a 
 residence of eighteen years in the country. He says 
 funny things enough to keep one laughing all the time. 
 For a few minutes he sticks to the Italian, then sud- 
 
140 DRESDEN. 
 
 denlv an anecdote occurs to his mind. Even if this is 
 in the middle of a sentence, he looks up instantly, 
 squints his left eye, bounces out of his chair, strikes an 
 oratorical attitude, and begins. After one of these 
 amusing preludes, he related the following: — 
 
 ** I will tell you somedings, ladies, and you moos 
 dink on me ven you come dere. It is about Naples. 
 Vonce I was very inteemate mit a Kussian countess, 
 and vile I was inteemate mit dis countess, I vas invited 
 to take dinner by her von day. She said to me ven ve 
 vas on (at) de table, ' Mr. G., I vill tell you vat I 
 dinks. Naples is a paradise of demons.' So ven you 
 come to Naples, dink on me and de Russian countess." 
 
 You see the point to the story is the intimacy with 
 the countess; but I suppose there is also truth in the 
 comment upon Naples. Three months later I can per- 
 haps judge better in regard to that matter. He is to 
 give one more lesson on Tuesday, and then we must 
 bid adieu to him along with the other curiosities of 
 Germany. Kate is merely trying to review enough 
 Italian to manage the railroad officials between Turin and 
 Florence, where my German will probably not be 
 understood. 
 
 Thus you see study and recitation occupy most of my 
 time, but on Friday afternoon, we made a little excur- 
 sion of which we have talked ever since coming to 
 Dresden. Saxon Switzerland is a strip of country on 
 the Elbe about twenty miles south-east of Dresden. 
 As its name indicates, it is a wild panorama of rocky, 
 fir-crowned promontories, dancing water-falls, and 
 
LETTER ELEVEN. 141 
 
 fern-carpeted valleys. The praises of this region, 
 together with reproaches for not visiting it, have all 
 summer been constantly sounded in our ears. But we 
 waited till we were ready, and the event has approved 
 our plan. At 12 :40 we joined the crowd of smoking 
 *' Dutchmen," stoop-shouldered washerwomen, and the 
 few genteel travelers in the waiting-room of the Bohe- 
 mian depot. We thought for so short a journey, we 
 would try the novelties of a third-class passage ; and 
 the fun we had fully repaid us for occupying cushion 
 less seats. The train moved at such a furious pace 
 there was no time to study the features of the land- 
 scape. We were scarcely conscious that a village on our 
 left was looking down upon its image in the water, that a 
 slope of scrubby trees on our right was trying to stop our 
 progress, tni village was transformed into meadow-land, 
 and the slope into a level potato patch enlivened by the 
 bright dresses of many diggers. At this rate, we were 
 soon at Eathan, and at the primitive wharf where a 
 skiff was waiting. This wharf was a mere foot-bridge 
 over that portion of the river which was too shallow to 
 support the noble craft riding at anchor in the deeper 
 water. The red-faced, blear-eyed old oarsman, who 
 formed the captain and crew of this second Elysia, 
 seemed neither glad nor sorry to seeus,but when we were 
 seated, he settled his brown cap more securely over his 
 straggling white hairs, mechanically grasped his long 
 pole and bent himself to the task of propelling us across. 
 We had scarcely parted company from the wharf on 
 one side, till our feet were upon the sands of the oppo- 
 
142 DRESDEN. 
 
 site bank, all ready and eager to ascend the frowning 
 Bastei. To scale the perpendicular heigths presented 
 to the river, would have been impossible ; but we had 
 planned an attack from the rear. A little shower threat- 
 ened to drive us back, but its force was soon exhausted, 
 and a blue sky lent its cheering countenance to the 
 enterprise. We thought it best to send the cavalry in 
 advance, so Kate mounted the steed, taken but a 
 moment before, I think, from the plow. With much 
 deliberation she obeyed the "Forward! march! " of 
 our command. My Brother and Mr. P., constituted 
 my body-guard, so I knew there would be no chance 
 for *' Crookshank" adventures. 
 
 Our road wound around along a valley on one side of 
 which a dark pine grove reared its boughs so thick and 
 dark as to conceal all but the splintered pinnacles of 
 mighty rock towers beyond. On our right rose the 
 "Jungfrau," solitary and majestic, to the height of three 
 hundred feet. I suppose it would be an insignificant 
 elevation, if compared with its Alpine prototype; but 
 accustomed as we are to the plains about Dresden, we 
 are quite impressed by its grandeur. Immediately by 
 our path flows a little brook whose waters furnish 
 food for the cresses on its surface. 
 
 " See the sheep," said the guide, speaking for the 
 first time and pointing to the cliff in front of us. 
 
 To be sure, rudely carved by the hand of nature, 
 crouching upon the very top of the cliff, was a repre- 
 sentation of this meek animal. Some just ripening 
 blackberries drew our attention as our eyes fell from 
 
LETTER ELEVEN. 143 
 
 the cliff, as if to remind us that nature is not only 
 grand but beneficent. At every step, the surroundings 
 grew wilder, and Mr. P. told us we would soon reach 
 the dark cave known as " Devil's Kitchen.'* 
 
 " Yes, there's the old lady now ! " he exclaimed the 
 next minute, as we caught sight of a female figure 
 through the trees. 
 
 A few yards brought us to the spot, and we 
 found it worthy of its name. We entered the nar- 
 row, gloomy recess, and pressed forward quite fear- 
 lessly, till Mr., P. who was in advance, started back 
 with well counterfeited terror, saying, — 
 
 " Keally the old gentleman's at home, and I think 
 we'd better not disturb him." 
 
 Coming out, we formed the acquaintance of 
 the woman whom we had seen through the 
 trees. For want of her real name, and from the 
 fact she is, every night, lulled to sleep by the mur- 
 mur of a cascade in front of her dwelling, we will 
 call her the Spirit of the Waterfall. She asked us to 
 purchase as mementoes some little trifles spread on a 
 table under a rude, bark-covered shed. Her voice 
 was pitched at a key adapted to the vicinity of 
 Niagara. After hearing these unearthly tones, and 
 taking a peep into her bed-room, kitchen, or parlor 
 (I don't know which she called it, but it was a match 
 to the one attributed to His Satanic Majesty), I felt 
 that she was a second " Witch of Vesuvius." Had I, 
 like the noble Julia, been suffering from unrequited 
 
144 A BONE MILL. 
 
 affection, I might have appealed to her for a love 
 philtre. (Have you ever read Balwer's Last Days of 
 Pompeii? If not, you can not understand this allusion. ) 
 Well, a few stone steps led us from the old witch to 
 the top of this hill ; and, then, a nice, nearly level 
 winding road brought us to a diminutive building which 
 proved to be a bone-mill. A ghastly heap of bones lay 
 in one corner, a large wheel nearly filled the opposite 
 side; a pair of scales hung near the center. We went 
 in, and Mr. P. put in motion the old wheel by which 
 the rude machinery is operated in crushing the bones. 
 From this point we had to climb again, and when we 
 reached the top, we found that the products of the old 
 mill were not as far from market as we had supposed. 
 Spread out before us was an extensive table land, and 
 right by our path were two men at work, one plough- 
 ing, the other sowing rye. Our way now widened 
 out into a beautiful drive bordered on either side by 
 pine trees. I noticed that these were smaller than 
 those on the sides of the mountain, and that they 
 were standing in resrular rows. I mentioned this to 
 Mr. P., and he informed me that the law here requires 
 a man to replace every tree he cuts down. This is a 
 wase provision to prevent the destruction of forests, 
 from which our own land must one day suffer. In the 
 woods we saw a woman who had on her back one of 
 those hideous baskets, more than full of the broken pine 
 boughs. Go where we will, we can not escape this 
 saddening spectacle. 
 
LETTEE ELEVEN. 145 
 
 Suddenly our guide turned into a by-path on the 
 left, and on following we were greeted by a most 
 wonderful view. 
 
 ** The Felsen Meer" said our guide and no more was 
 necessary. 
 
 Its name, the Sea of Eocks, tells it all. 
 Could the ocean in the moment of its fury be 
 petrified — in the moment when its mighty waves 
 are vying with each other in the attempt to 
 reach the clouds, no grander effect could be produced. 
 The overhanging rocky balcony from which we looked 
 down upon this stilled ocean, was enclosed by a strong 
 railing ; but this seemed so inconsonant with the scene 
 that I crept under the railing and stood right on the 
 edge of the precipice. Supporting myself by holding 
 to a sturdy old pine, I gazed with deepened impres- 
 sions upon the wonders of the Almighty Hand. Now, 
 my dear brother, don't render yourself uneasy by sup- 
 posing I am venturesome. True, if I had grown dizzy, 
 I might have fallen down that fearful steep; but I 
 have been accustomed from childhood to looking down 
 from great elevations. I always delighted in climbing, 
 when I was a little girl, and lived in that old home 
 which now seems to me a castle in dreamland. 
 
 But let us toss a few stones into the chasm, and pass 
 on to something new. I forgot to say, a number of 
 tourists overtook at us the Felsen Meer, and a colder 
 looking set I never saw. They were all on horseback, 
 and I pitied them for the want of energy, which pre- 
 vented them from feeling as I did, the warm blood 
 
 10 
 
146 THE SEA OF ROCKS. 
 
 coursing joyously through every artery and vein. A 
 few steps more brought us to the top, where a restau- 
 rant offered refreshments for the weary traveler. 
 But we were not weary, so we passed on. 
 
 " I want to see this woman making lace," said Kate, 
 as we came upon an old " frau " thus engaged. 
 
 You have witnessed this process, so" I need not de- 
 scribe it. We both bought something and told her we 
 were Americans, and more than five thousand miles 
 from home. She raised her hands, and exclaimed in 
 German: — 
 
 " Oh ? you will never get back. Once in my life, I 
 went twenty miles from home, and I thought I would 
 go crazy. What would I do, if I were as much as a 
 hundred miles from here?" 
 
 Time and language would fail me in the attempt to 
 describe the view from the Bastei, the point we had 
 now attained, and which rises abruptly six hundred 
 feet above the tiny Elbe. Beyond this stream, Konig- 
 stein and "Lilienstein, taller sisters of the Bastei, 
 stand as if arrayed against each other, as they have 
 been, indeed, once in their history. The former has, 
 for centuries, been the stronghold of Saxony, or 
 rather of Bohemia, and Napoleon once put its powers 
 to the test. He tried in vain to scale its perpendicu- 
 lar heights, and finally conceived the plan of attacking 
 it from Lilienstein. With much difficulty he succeeded 
 in planting upon this height three guns ; but this only 
 brought new disappointment, for the force of his guns 
 proved insufficient to send a single ball into the op- 
 
LETTER ELEVEN. 147 
 
 posite fortress. So similar is the appearance of all 
 these twisted rock masses along the Elbe, that it seems 
 as if they might once have formed one level bed. But 
 some mighty struggle has made a horrid rent in this 
 part of Nature's earthly garment, and the thread- 
 like stream seems intended to draw the raj>;o;ed edg-es 
 together. 
 
 But I am lingering too long on the Bastei. Saffice 
 it to say, we sought out every point from which a 
 view was to be had; tried the strength of our lungs 
 in awaking the echoes; gathered souvenirs from the 
 wildest spots; selected paths before untrod ; tore our 
 dresses on the bushes and mended them up with pins ; 
 and finally returned to our old friend, the boatman, 
 who took us over to Eathan time enough to wait twenty 
 minutes for our train. I was not at all tired, and 
 thought we had had fun enough for one day, but the 
 most amusing part was yet to come. Just as the train 
 was within half second of starting, an old fellow, 
 whom we had seen on the mountain, bolted through 
 the door and alighted on the only unoccupied portion 
 of our seat. So suddenly did he come, and so forci- 
 bly did he plump himself down on the hard bench, 
 that one might suppose some giant hand had hurled 
 him from the precipice; but as soon as he had recov- 
 ered breath, be told us he had been compelled to 
 run. 
 
 "And," he says, " I-am-a-a-little-fat," gasping 
 between words. 
 
 I wish I could make you see him. But for the 
 
148 VIEW FROM THE BALTIC. 
 
 slight interruption of outline occasioned by his round 
 head, short arms, and lower limbs, he would have been a 
 perfect sphere of flesh. Indeed, his head looked as if 
 it were attached by means of the yellow handkerchief, 
 which filled the space between it and the body. I can 
 not give you all the conversation which ensued between 
 him and Mr. P. ; but through the medium of a hash 
 composed of scraps of English and German tongue, 
 he told us he was a school teacher from some unheard of 
 place, and that one of his greatest delights was to col- 
 lect rocks and antiquities. To illustrate this latter, he 
 drew from his pocket a flint, which he said must be 
 five thousand years old, and that some ancient German 
 had doubtless used for a knife that long ago. A train 
 of freight cars just then passed us laden with coal, 
 and this suggested a new line of thouo;ht. 
 
 *' Me and mine friend," said he to Mr. P., " own a 
 hill two miles around, and full of the finest coal ; but we 
 are both poor and can't get it out. Now, if you are a 
 clever man and have got money, you had better go in 
 with us and get richer." 
 
 Mr. P., told him he was in Germany for only a 
 short time, and could hardly risk an investment. 
 
 *'But," said the old man, "England is not far 
 
 ofe." 
 
 Here Mr. P. told him we were all Americans, and, 
 of course, there followed a series of questions in regard 
 to our country, to which Mr. P. made such answers as 
 must have given him a singular idea of our ways. 
 Finally, they touched the woman question. 
 
LETTER ELEVEN. 149 
 
 ** Don't you think our American ladies handsome? '* 
 asked Mr. P. 
 
 "Beautiful," responded the old antiquarian, with 
 an admiring glance. 
 
 *' 1 don't like the German women, because they 
 have to work alongside the dogs," said Mr. P. " We 
 think too much of our women to let them do out-door 
 work. Their hands are too pretty and white." 
 
 Our friend shook his head with a skeptical air, 
 whereupon, Mr. P. asked me to hand him the bouquet 
 lying in my lap. I did so, not suspecting his design, 
 till he said to the skeptic: — 
 
 *' Didn't I tell you so? See the lady's hand." 
 
 Now, for the first time, he spoke to me, and what 
 do you think he said? You'll probably be as much 
 surprised, as I was. 
 
 ** Madame, your husband is a jolly fellow." 
 
 Kate and Brother laughed outright at this, while Mr. 
 P. and I joined in the merriment. We did not tell 
 him he was mistaken, but after observing us awhile 
 longer, he said; — 
 
 *' No, I don't believe she is jouv frau; she looks 
 at you too kindly, and speaks too softly. You are 
 only engaged." 
 
 This was worse than ever ; Kate and Vachel enjoyed 
 it, for every where we go, she is taken for Mrs. Lindsay. 
 We didn't tell our interlocutor whether or not he was 
 right ; but I was glad when the conductor announced, 
 "Dresden." 
 
150 MUNICH. 
 
 If a German is seen leaning on the arm of 
 any gentleman, he must be her father, brother, 
 husband, or accepted lover ; the Grerman had seen 
 Mr. P., thus helping me up the mountain, hence his 
 conclusion. 
 
 Take it all in all, it was the most enlivening day we 
 have spent since our visit to the Trossachs ; but I fear 
 I weary you with minuteness of detail. I thought of 
 you all the day, and wished you could be with us. 
 
 EUDOKA. 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 Munich, October '6, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 tHE three months allotted, on our programme, 
 to study in Dresden, have gradually trans- 
 formed themselves from uncertain future into unchang- 
 ing past; for the last time we have witnessed the stiff ; 
 mechanical, nine o'clock bow of our German professor, 
 for the last time we have feasted on Miss-S.'s " lufly 
 American pie;" for the last time we have walked 
 down Prager Strasse to be amused with the living 
 curiosities always on exhibition there; and to-day 
 
LETTER TWELVE. 151 
 
 Kate and I are in a city among whose one hundred and 
 eighty thousand inhabitants we can not claim a single 
 acquaintance. Our departure from Dresden on last 
 Thursday at 12:40 was gloomy enough, for the rain 
 was pouring down in regular American style ; but as 
 we entered upon Bohemian territory the sky grew 
 bright as if to welcome our coming. Our friend, Mr. 
 P., kindly accompanied us as far as Bodenbach, helped 
 us through the custom house ordeal, saw us comfort- 
 ably seated in a train for Prague, and a second after 
 waived us a last adieu as his car bore him rapidly back 
 towards Dresden. 
 
 The road to Prague extends along the left bank of 
 the Elbe, the tunnel-forbidding rock masses on either 
 side having constrained the engineer to follow the 
 innumerable windings of this stream. The effect of 
 these sudden and frequent curves is much like that of 
 a revolving stereoscope ; the scenes do not gradually 
 melt one into another^ but each is perfect in itself, 
 seen for a moment, then gone forever. But Kate told 
 you in her last of the rocks and glens of Saxon and 
 Bohemian Switzerland, so I will not repeat. 
 
 At a little after seven, the arrival in Prauue with its 
 accompanying necessity of speaking enough German 
 to order ourselves and baggage transferred as speedily 
 as possible to the Englisher Hof, furnished enough of 
 reality to dispel every romantic thought awakened by 
 the scenes of the day. Early the next morning we 
 started out to learn what we could of the city in one 
 day. At the very door we met something which 
 
152 DEPARTURE FROM DRESDEN. 
 
 reminded us that we were no longer in Dresden. It 
 was the uplifted beseeching hands and eyes of an old 
 shrivelled beggar woman. In Saxony, I have seen 
 many a weaker woman energetically sawing wood, 
 carrying coal, or drawing a wagon all day long, who 
 would scorn begging so much as one dinner of potato 
 pealings. I asked the old Bohemian what ailed her, 
 but she seemed to think her silent supplication more 
 effective and made no answer. How much we might 
 have given her I can not say, but a servant came to the 
 door and bade her begone, whereupon she moved off 
 quite nimbly. 
 
 *' Go first to the old Synagogue," advised our land- 
 lord, " for later than ten you can not be admitted." 
 
 We attempted to follow his directions ; but after go- 
 ing first right, then left, then round a circle, we found 
 ourselves in such a dark, narrow street that we felt 
 somewhat lost. We were here encountered by two 
 wagons laden with sacks nine feet long, which seemed 
 to brush the walls of the houses on either side. We 
 took refuge in a doorway, and waited in breathless 
 suspense till they were past. Just then we caught 
 sight of a man across the way, who looked so much 
 like you that I felt a desire to form his acquaintance. 
 
 " Please, sir, tell us where to find the old Jewish 
 Synagogue," said we. 
 
 "Well, come, and I will show you the way ; it is so 
 far you could scarcely find it alone ; " and the nice old 
 gentleman turned back on purpose to accommodate us. 
 
 " Prague is a very old city, isn't it? " I asked. 
 
LETTER TWELVE. 153 
 
 *' Yes, it was founded in the year 800, and the Syna- 
 gogue is nearly seven hundred years old." 
 
 "Are there many Jews here? " 
 
 "Ten thousand, and more of their original customs 
 are observed here than anywhere else. To-day is their 
 New Year's feast, and you will see much to interest 
 you. There ! that gray mass of stones, with an 
 ungainly tower of red brick patched on above is the 
 building for which you are seeking." 
 
 It was half underground, and as we descended to 
 the threshold, we felt as if entering a cave. To 
 increase this impression, a noise as of some wild beast 
 proceeded from within. Was it the roaring of a lion? 
 There was scarcely enough of sublimity in the sound. 
 Was it the barking of a wolf? The notes were too 
 much prolonged. Yet, as we pushed through those 
 standing at the door, we saw in the center a square, 
 cage-like arrangement, from which the confusion pro- 
 ceeded. I have often read of the Feast of Trumpets, 
 but with the dingy cellar with its crumbling walls, 
 instead of the magnificent temple of Solomon; with 
 the solitary trumpeter, instead of the representatives 
 of the twelve tribes, I failed to recognize the cere- 
 mony. The blowing soon ceased, and then we had a 
 reproduction of Babel. Every Jew (and there were 
 several hundred) was covered with a square, white 
 silken shawl bordered with black ; most of them had 
 this drawn straight across their shoulders and flowing 
 to the floor ; a few of the more devout pulled theirs 
 up over their heads, or plug hats, rather, while a few 
 
154 THE OLD SYNAGOGUE. 
 
 stylish young brethren had theirs arranged in the 
 form of a graceful scarf. Each stood beside a high, 
 narrow desk, on which his book lay spread open. As 
 the trumpet was laid aside, every man began reading 
 aloud; some read Hebrew, some read German ; a part 
 read fast, a part read slow; this man read bass, that 
 read a discordant soprano ; and every one kept time to 
 his own music by swaying himself and his desk back and 
 forth like a child learning his multiplication table. We 
 thought it would be a pity to omit the final scene to 
 the "Confusion of Tongues," but we withdrew our- 
 selves from their midst. 
 
 *' Here you ought to see the ladies before you leave,'* 
 said an officious creature who met us at the door. Open- 
 ing a side door, he told us to enter. We found our- 
 selves in a narrow hall, on each side of which a long 
 line of bright, dark eyes confronted us. Doubtless, 
 previous to the interruption, these eyes had been busy 
 with the pages of the book which lay in the lap of each. 
 Through little loop-holes of windows in the wall, they 
 could peep in upon the actions of the men, and thus 
 know what passage to read. 
 
 *' Now you must see the Friedhof " (Court of Peace), 
 said our self-appointed guide. 
 
 "You can not go in, but here is a view from this 
 window. See, so thick as the stars in heaven, so thick 
 are the time-blackened stones of this ancient burial 
 ground." 
 
 I didn't ask him for any comments, but the quota- 
 tion gives you an idea of the conversational style of 
 
LETTER TWELVE. " 155 
 
 Prague guides. He led us around till we came upon 
 the Moldau, on the opposite side of which he pointed 
 out to us the St. Veit's Dome and the Royal Palace, 
 Charles, Bridge and the Belvedere Palace. Here 
 brother offered him a few kreuzers as a reward for his 
 information, and as a hint that we needed him no 
 longer. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr., but give me three times this 
 much, because I must give a part to the church, a part 
 to the poor, and have but little left for myself," said 
 he, with a pious, self-denying look. 
 
 Of course, we believed all this, and reluctantly 
 parted with the worthy man. 
 
 I would like to tell you of the very ancient St. 
 Veit's Dome ; of the meek priest who showed us around 
 the interior, pointing out a candlestick brought from 
 Solomon's Temple (?), an altar or shrine made from 
 cannons captured during the Hussite war, of the view 
 of the hundred-towered city of Prague from the Bel- 
 vedere ; but there is another feature of the Bohemian 
 capital which will more frequently recur to my mind. 
 As we were returning to the hotel we were suddenly 
 surrounded by some half dozen boys — keen-eyed, 
 well-dressed, intelligent little fellows — who began to 
 tell us of the objects of interest. 
 
 " This is the Russian Church. The Old Synagogue 
 is open at four ! You can see the Friedhof , too I 
 Here is the Teinkirche, with the tomb of Tycho de 
 Brahe ! " came from all sides at once. 
 
 *' Well, well, we've seen them all; what of it? " 
 
156 • JEWISH BOYS. 
 
 "And the Clock of the Apostles,*' added all in a 
 breath. 
 
 " Well, yes, that's something new,*' I said, just for 
 the sake of practicing German. " How many apostles 
 are there ? ' ' 
 
 *' Twelve," cried one, darting in front of me, feel- 
 ing sure that he had earned a kreuzer by this bit of 
 intelligence; *' twelve," echoed one at the right hand ; 
 "twelve," came from the rear, where about that 
 number were almost treading upon our heels. 
 
 " What have the apostles to do with the clock? " I 
 asked of the urchin in front. 
 
 " Oh ! when the skeleton strikes with the hammer, 
 they go all around that tower." 
 
 " So ! Do they ride around or walk? '* 
 
 *' They are not alive at all, they are wax figures." 
 
 *' Well, we'll stop and wait till it strikes; but tell 
 me this, is every boy in Prague a guide? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! these others don't know enough to be 
 guides ; but / can show you anything you want to 
 see." 
 
 I told him we did not need him ; but he still accom- 
 panied us. 
 
 "Do all the boys get rich by showing foreigners 
 around?" I asked. 
 
 "That depends upon how much the foreigner 
 gives," responded he, while his face took that expres- 
 sion of miserly expectation so uniformly characteristic 
 of the mature Jew. 
 
 Zurich, October 6. — Well, President, this was com- 
 
LETTER THIRTEEN. 157 
 
 menced in Munich, and now we find ourselves, at the 
 end of a day's journey, in Zurich, Switzerland, too 
 tired and sleepy for writing. The only way we could 
 get rid of the Prague boys was to leave them abruptly 
 when we became weary of them, and I can think of no 
 better way to treat their story. Kate and I have no 
 difficulty in traveling alone, and feel that our time and 
 money are being well spent. Friends may address us 
 in care of the American Consul, Florence, instead of 
 the banker. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 Munich, October 3, 1875. 
 Dear Mother and Father; 
 
 ^ ATE and I have had a lunch of grapes and a bak- 
 er's roll, and I feel so refreshed that I think I can 
 write you a good, long letter before bedtime. This is 
 my regular time for a letter to you, and I have no 
 doubt you would be unusually anxious should I fail 
 now to inform you of our whereabouts. We bade 
 good-by to Vachel, at Prague, on Friday night, and, 
 with some misgivings, set forth alone. We asked for 
 a car in which no smoking should be allowed, and thus 
 
158 MUNICH. 
 
 found a comfortable resting-place. There were three 
 ladies in the car with us, but two of them soon got 
 out. With the other I had some little conversation, 
 which was interesting only from the fact that I found 
 myself able to understand and be understood. At an- 
 other station, a man got in with a cigar in his mouth; 
 but when the conductor came around I reminded him 
 of his promise, so he made the man throw it away. 
 The seats were softly cushioned, and there was plenty 
 of room to lie down ; but we were afraid to go to 
 sleep, because there was a custom-house to be passed, 
 where we must get out and attend to our buggage. I 
 thought Pra2;ue was not far from the Bohemian and 
 Bavarian line, and kept listening every minute for the 
 conductor to announce "Furth," which I knew to be 
 the border town. Finally, I inquired .how long we 
 must yet travel before reaching this place. 
 
 "In two and twenty minutes," I. understood the 
 man to say, so we got everything in readiness to get 
 out. Twenty minutes went by, and yet no Furth ; 
 another twenty minutes, and the train stopped to wait 
 half an hour. I supposed this to be the custom-house, 
 and again prepared to dismount. The conductor, 
 however, intercepted me, and told me it was not 
 yet time, and that he would certainly tell me where to 
 get out. Again, I asked when it would reach Furth, 
 and he said : 
 
 ^^Af two and twenty minutes.** 
 Now, this is bad German, and that is the reason of my 
 mistake. He should have said, *' Five minutes after 
 
LETTEE THIETEEN. 159 
 
 a quarter on three;" but he was so polite to me, I did 
 not correct him. Thus satisfied, we took off our 
 hats, tied our heads up in our veils, and fixed our- 
 selves snugly for a nap. I know not what good angel 
 presided over our slumbers, but we slept exactly two 
 hours, then awoke just in time to get our hats on 
 before the arrival at Furth. With fear and trembling 
 we entered the baggage-room ; but, as there was no 
 noise or confusion of any sort, we soon became suffi- 
 ciently composed to recognize our trunks, and to 
 imagine that the tall officer was eyeing them with sus- 
 picion. 
 
 " Sir," I ventured to say, *' there is nothing inhere 
 but ladies' clothes." 
 
 " So? " was the response. 
 
 A "sub" stood by with a stamp ready for the 
 package, if approved : and I was much rejoiced when 
 with a preparatory lick, he applied one of these to my 
 trunk. 
 
 *' This one is filled with the same," I said, pointing 
 to Kate's trunk. 
 
 The " sub " looked inquiringly at his principal ; the 
 latter shook his head slowly, then said meditatively: 
 " * * I — reckon — perhaps — don't know — but — Well , 
 put the stamp on ! " And so it was all over. This 
 ease of getting through the custom-house is due to the 
 fact we have no gentleman with us. Ladies are not 
 supposed to carry cigars, the chief article requiring 
 duty. 
 
 We tarried here twenty minutes, then took a fresh 
 
160 MUNICH. 
 
 start for Munich. The trains run rapidly here, and 
 this the double tracks enable them to do with impu- 
 nity ; but the rapid movement is accompanied by no 
 little jolting. This caused our traveling companion 
 to afford us considerable amusement. The jolting 
 produced quite a commotion in her mass of flesh, so 
 that we momently expected her dress buttons to meet 
 with a catastrophe like that so frequently befalling 
 David Copperfield's friend Pegotty. She saw our 
 amusement, and laughingly expressed a fear of some 
 such result, using a German almost as amusing as her 
 appearance. But she proved useful as well as amus- 
 ing; for she told us where to get off, Schwansdorf, 
 and kept us company during the hours we were wait- 
 ing there. She got off a little before we reached 
 Munich, causing some uneasiness by telling us we 
 would find Munich so crowded it would be difficult 
 to find lodging. The crowd was to be down by the 
 annual October " Folk's-fest," whose season was now 
 upon us. 
 
 At 11:30, without further adventure, we arrived in 
 Munich, and were conveyed by droschke to Hotel 
 Detzer, on Neuerhaus Strasse. The landlord smilingly 
 greeted us at the entrance, asked how long we 
 expected to stay, said he had room for us, and that 
 dinner would be ready in half an hour. A vigorous 
 use of soap and water, of comb and clothes brush, 
 prepared us to join the party of guests at the dinner 
 table. After dinner we studied the guide book till our 
 plans for our three days' stay here were well arranged ; 
 
LETTER THIETEEN. 161 
 
 then we took our map, and started out to unravel the 
 tangled streets of a European city. Did we get lost ? 
 Not a bit of it. We proceeded a few squares when 
 we came to Marien Platz, near the center of the city ; 
 crossing this, we passed under an arch formed by the 
 lower part of a tower to the City Hall; on by St. 
 Peter's Church, and stopped by the Isar Gate. This 
 is a triumphal arch erected in honor of one King Lud- 
 wig, after a victory in 1322. You remember in 
 Campbell's poem, " The Battle of Hohenlinden," the 
 line about "Isar rolling rapidly." This same Isar 
 rolls through Munich, and not far away is that same 
 battle-field. What a pleasure to find the dim concep- 
 tions of childhood transformed into such living, moving 
 realities as this Kiver Isar I 
 
 Keturning from the Isar Gate to Marien Platz, we 
 went north on Diener Strasse, past the post-office 
 building, formerly the palace of a count. It is 
 three hundred feet long, and has an open hall 
 with twelve large columns. The inner wall of this 
 hall, or porch, is painted bright red, and ornamented 
 with the figures of six men training horses. The Eoy- 
 al Theater is on the east side of the same square, and 
 is an immense building, likewise ornamented with 
 frescoes on the outside plaster. In the center of the 
 square is a monument of Maximilian I., thirty-eight 
 feet high. It represents the king sitting on his throne 
 and in the act of giving the constitution. 
 
 We were, by this time, tired enough to come home, 
 stopping on the way to buy meat, bread, oranges, and 
 11 
 
162 MUNICH. 
 
 pears for our supper. We retired at half past eight, 
 and did not wake till this morning at six — about ten 
 hours' rest. 
 
 At eight, we went to the Frauenkirche, just across 
 the street. There are doors on every side ; but we 
 were a little tardy, so we found them locked. We 
 were not, however, the only tardy ones; and, as all 
 who tried the door at which we stood, passed on around 
 the church, we followed, thus obtaining entrance. We 
 were in a perfect jam of German, tobacco-smoking, 
 beer-drinking Catholics, but we stood our ground — 
 yes, we did stand it, for every seat was filled, and the 
 broad aisles crowded. A priest was preaching, and to 
 him we listened, till he went across to the high altar, 
 before whose golden front he knelt to mutter his invo- 
 cation. I cared not to watch the process by which he 
 should turn to real blood ( ?) the wine in the little 
 goblet before him, for the celebration of mass had 
 lost its charm of novelty, and, of course, I had no 
 faith in its pretended powers. I wish I could describe 
 this magnificent cathedral ; but weariness forbids. 
 
 After services were ended, we walked out to the 
 cemetery, which is crowded with handsome monu- 
 ments. In one part of the cemetery is a semi-circle, 
 or arcade, containing vaults of the wealthy. In one 
 room of this is a place where the dead must remain 
 several days before interment is allowed. It makes 
 no difference what is the rank of the individual, he 
 must allow his corpse to be thus brought to a level 
 with that of the humblest citizen. We saw through 
 
LETTER FOURTEEN. 163 
 
 the windows the ghastly faces of twenty-one mortal 
 beings — more dead than I had ever seen in all my 
 life before. Eleven of these stiffened forms bore 
 traces of long sojourn among the living; the other ten 
 had but begun to live when summoned to this strange 
 assembly. Plain open boxes held the remains of each 
 silent beshrouded one ; and over the pillowed heads 
 and elapsed hands, flowers were wreathed in lavish 
 profusion. On some faces the expression of a peace- 
 ful slumber seemed in keeping with these brilliant 
 garlands ; but others, distorted yet with their latest 
 agony, seemed more fitted to a bed of thorns. The 
 time may come when all else of Germany is forgotten ; 
 but to my latest hour I can never forget this array of 
 German dead. Eudoba. 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 Zurich, Switzerland, Oct. 7, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother /South : 
 lOi^T'ERE T the most romantic girl in the world, I 
 
 could not desire a more lovely spot from which 
 to write to my sweetheart. I have but to raise my 
 eyes from the paper, and they fall upon a scene more 
 
164 ZUEICH. 
 
 • 
 
 beautiful than anything art can produce. Right below 
 this balcony flows the Limmat, whose green waters are 
 so clear I can see the pebbles at the bottom; and, so 
 rapidly is it hurrying away to the Aar, that looking 
 down a few minutes, you imagine yourself floating 
 away with the current. The hotel is built over a 
 bridge, so fancy readily transforms it into an ark, 
 though how many righteous souls are in it, I know 
 not. Two hundred yards further up the stream is 
 another bridge, whose four stone arches seem designed 
 to check the river in its mad career of stealing the 
 waters from the lake. Over this bridge an uninter- 
 rupted line of men and carriages seems to keep time 
 with the ceaseless music of the stream. Beyond, 
 unmoved by all this tumult, lies the lake itself 
 enlivened by the sails of pleasure boats, the splashing 
 oars of skiff-rowers, the fast-plying wheels of steam- 
 ers. Beyond the twenty miles of water rise bright 
 green hills covered with cottages and vineyards; 
 above these, greater heights crowned with sturdy pines ; 
 and farther yet, higher yet, right next to the clouds, 
 are the glistening peaks of never-melting Alpine 
 glaciers. And, now, as if to add a new charm to what 
 already seems perfection, the moon throws down a 
 few stray beams to be broken by the ripples into 
 thousands. Unseen hands are brightening bridge and 
 city with gas-light ; I must stop to light the candles. 
 
 Is it any wonder, think you, I should choose this 
 place and time for writing to my sweetheart? But 
 pur "mutual friend" says I must not feel too sure 
 
LETTER rOURTEElSr. 165 
 
 • 
 
 that T possess such a treasure ; that he thinks you are 
 trying to be true, but the struggle is sometimes tei-ri- 
 ble. Be that as it may, just for to-night, I will 
 believe your declarations; and that you would be 
 happy sitting beside me on the balcony, looking with 
 me upon the moon-lit water. I believe if you were 
 here, you would forget all about past struggles, and 
 think only of me. Perhaps, too, if you were with 
 another, you would think only of her, forgetting my 
 very existence. Perhaps you are so susceptible that 
 it is only by constant watching you can make true 
 to-morrow the protestations of to-day ; perhaps your 
 nature renders you incapable of unswerving devotion ; 
 but, just for to-night, I'll not think of all this. Some 
 kind of a hero is indispensable to such surroundings, 
 and I now think of none more fitting than yourself. 
 To-morrow I shall be full of other things, practical 
 affairs ; then, I can calmly consider the possibility of 
 your being other than you seem. So, let me tell you, 
 my good friend, how I have reached this place. 
 
 October Qtii. — Well, I was just going to tell you 
 how I reached Zurich; but before I had time to do so, 
 I had to set out for Geneva, from which place I now 
 write. We left Zurich yesterday morning at 6:40, 
 and at ten reached the' picturesque city of Bern, 
 Switzerland. We spent four hours in walking over 
 the place, aud viewing the Alps from every possible 
 standpoint. We have done almost nothing to-day, 
 except study our guide-book and try to decide upon 
 our course over the Alps. In Geneva itself, there is 
 
166 BAVARIAN COSTUME. 
 
 not much to see except the lake and the distant moun- 
 tains. We took a walk about four, but the atmosphere 
 was too smoky to see Mont Blanc. But I must resume 
 the history of my travels. 
 
 From my last letter to President, you will learn 
 something of our experience in Prague. There we 
 parted with Yachel, just one week ago, and all alone, 
 made the long journey to Munich. We were so fortu- 
 nate as to arrive there at the time of a Peasant's Fair, 
 and, next day, the streets furnished innumerable 
 studies of the Bavarian costume. Here, we met a 
 brave youth with his sweetheart by his side; there, a 
 pair old enough to be their grandparents. Here we 
 encountered an old lady puffing under excess of flesh ; 
 there, an old man struggling to keep possession of the 
 small amount of space required for bis attenuated 
 body. Most of the youths had on flowered velvet 
 jackets on which gleamed two semi-circles of large silver 
 buttons. The head-dress of the young ladies is a 
 handkerchief of black silk, woolen, or cotton goods, 
 tied tight over the head with the embroidered corners 
 hanging to the waist behind. The dress, just long 
 enough to reach the tops of their stogy shoes, is 
 generally of bright blue, green or purple, relieved by 
 a bodice of black velvet trimmed crosswise with 
 narrow white ribbon, and by a long, straight, broad 
 apron of some contrasting shade. A fancy handker- 
 chief for the shoulders, about two feet square, and 
 dozens of strands of beads fastened around the neck 
 by an immense square buckle, complete the outfit. 
 
LETTEE FOURTEEN. 167 
 
 Those from Southern Bavaria, instead of the head- 
 handkerchief, wear a broad-brimmed felt hat with a 
 peaked crown, trimmed with a deep band of gold lace. 
 You see, Bavaria is divided into cantons, and each 
 canton has its own peculiar style of dress. In the 
 cathedral, I saw one face and costume I shall never 
 forget. I was standing in one of the broad aisles sur- 
 rounded by a dense and motley throng, and, a little 
 uneasily, I turned to see who was treading on my 
 dress. By this movement was revealed to me the 
 queer specimen of which I speak. I had to look down 
 to see the face, so old and shrunken was the form 
 belonging thereto. The forehead was just three 
 broken lines; the cheeks were just two hollows of 
 yellow, wrinkled skin ; the eyes were just two narrow, 
 blinking openings half way between the chin and the 
 edge of the thin gray hair ; the mouth was just a 
 crowded cavity between the toothless jaws, which with 
 a palsied-like movement, enabled the sunken lips to 
 mumble the old creature's prayers. Back from the 
 forehead the hair was drawn straight and tight, and, 
 above it; was such a head-dress as you never saw. It 
 was a band of brass, from the middle of which rose a 
 comb-shaped piece, six inches high, all studded with 
 imitation garnets, rubies, diamonds and pearls. To 
 the ends of the brass band, black ribbons were 
 attached and tied under the chin ; from the comb four 
 streamers, five inches broad, fell to the waist. I have 
 some photographs ; but, in point of incongruity, none 
 of them come up to the reality. We went to the gal- 
 
168 A GERMAN FKIEND. 
 
 leries, to the museum, to other places of interest in 
 Munich, but nothing was better worth seeing than 
 this unexpected exhibition of the peasantry. 
 
 On Wednesday morning, at half past five, a rapping 
 on our door announced that it was time to prepare for 
 a journey. At half past seven, the " 'bus " was taking 
 us to the depot. A young German was the only other 
 occupant of this vehicle, and he showed us the unpar- 
 alleled courtesy of asking if the smoke of his cigar 
 w'ere offensive. "We were struck by this mark of 
 politeness; but, at the depot, he gave us more sub- 
 stantial cause for gratitude. When I went to buy my 
 ticket, he was at the window. I had only French 
 gold with which to pay, and at the hotel T had been 
 allowed a premium on it ; but the ticket-master refused 
 to allow me this value. 
 
 *' Frauleiuj" said the stranger, " let me pay in 
 paper, and I will take your gold at its real worth." 
 Of course I could not decline this opportunity to save 
 two or three dollars, so I consented. On the train we 
 found ourselves again vis-a-vis with our friend, and I 
 became further indebted to him for a lesson in Ger- 
 man. He knew but two or three English words, so 
 our conversation had to be carried on in German. He 
 asked many questions about America, and, in return, 
 gave us some information in regard to Bav.aria. It, 
 like Saxony, forms a part of the great German Empire, 
 over which Frederic William holds sway, and, like 
 Saxony, has its own king. Ludwig (Louis) is his 
 name, who, unlike, Albrecht of Saxony, is no soldier. 
 
LETTER FOUETEEN. 169 
 
 He is a very handsome man, still young and unmarried, 
 though he has once been engaged. He loves to be 
 much alone ; goes to the theater where thousands are 
 present, but sits in his box alone. 
 
 " la short," said the young German, " he is an 
 Idealist, who loves to please himself with his own 
 thoughts." 
 
 Like the Saxons, the Bavarians love their own king, 
 and are embittered against the Emperor. 
 
 At Lindau, on Lake Constance, we left cars for 
 boat, and in one hour were borne across the lake to 
 . Eorschah. This lake is larger, but far less picturesque 
 than Zurich; but we enjoyed crossing it, for we feel 
 at home on the waters. On the opposite bank our 
 road diverged from that of the young German, so of 
 him now we have left only a pleasing memory. Our 
 way led us on to Zurich, to Hotel Schwert, where I 
 wrote the first pages of this letter, and now I have 
 told you how I reached that place. 
 
 I can not yet tell you how I like Geneva, for we have 
 seen it under the disadvantages of a rain. We are in 
 a *' pension" (pronounced pon-se-own), where a great 
 many elegant people are stopping; but we have been 
 too busy to form any acquaintances. We have break- 
 fast about nine, lunch at twelve, and dinner at six, 
 which rather seems like turning the day upside down. 
 
 Sunday Evening. — We went this morning to hear 
 Pere Hyacinthe preach. We went with an American 
 girl, who is likewise an inmate of this pension. A 
 close carriage protected us from the rain, and we soon 
 
170 PERE HYACINTHE. 
 
 found ourselves in presence of the gifted man, as he 
 stood in his white robes, reading the service in a French 
 so beautifully accented that even T could appreciate it. 
 The attendants around the altar were dressed in ordi- 
 nary garments, and throughout there was much more 
 simplicity than in the usual Catholic service. "When 
 he came forth from behind the altar, we could see bet- 
 ter the outlines of his person, which is of a medium 
 height, slightly corpulent, with short arms and small 
 hands. His face is a perfect oval, his features reg- 
 ular, his forehead practical, his head nearly bald on 
 top, his complexion florid, his eyes not very dark. 
 He spoke at first with deliberation, but gradually his 
 manner became more animated, till he closed with a 
 warm, and seemingly powerful exhortation. At the 
 dinner table to-day, an old lady told Kate that he was 
 married, at the age of forty-eight, to an American 
 widow ten years his junior. He must be past fifty now. 
 The lady was wealthy ; but through some misfortune, 
 she has lost it all, and they are now supported by vol- 
 untary contributions. His tiny audience-chamber was 
 full to-day, and almost every one put in something as 
 the plates were passed. I was pleased with his genial 
 face, and should like to know him better. 
 
 Three New York girls, who occupy the next room, 
 are going soon to Leipsic, to attend school for two 
 years. I almost envy them the opportunity of learn- 
 ing so much ; but I am thankful for the privileges of 
 this twelve months. I love to study, I love knowledge, 
 and every year the acquiring of it becomes less diffi- 
 
LETTER FIFTEEN. 171 
 
 cult. I hope the time may be far distant when I shall 
 have to give up study altogether. I must close now 
 with thanks for the geranium, which was quite crushed 
 and broken, but fragrant still. I send you a rose given 
 me in Zurich, by a bright-faced Schweitzer, who takes 
 care of the cemetery there. I am anxious to get to 
 Genoa, where I expect to find a letter from you. When 
 we shall leave this place, depends upon the weather. 
 If it is not raining in the morning, we propose to make 
 an excursion to the Castle of Chillon. For the pres- 
 ent adieu, 
 
 EUDOBA. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 Geneva, October 17, 1875. 
 Dear Sister Flora: 
 
 JTTT has been a long, long time since I have heard from 
 ^ any of you ; but it is my regular time to write, 
 so I will not wait for news from home. I am growing 
 almost uneasy at your silence, but I hope to find a let- 
 ter awaiting me in Genoa. I have been, this morning, 
 to the old cathedral in which John Calvin used to 
 preach ; indeed, I heard a sermon from the same pul- 
 pit in which he has often stood. We also walked past 
 the old house which was his home from 1543 till 1564. 
 
172 MOUNT BLANC. 
 
 The sermon was French, and I did not understand a 
 word; but we looked around at the old stone walls, 
 stained glass windows, and clustered columns, with an 
 interest borrowed from their associations with the 
 noted reformer. 
 
 It has been more than a week since our coming here ; 
 but, in the meantime, we have made quite an excur- 
 sion to the mountains. We went, by diligence, from 
 here to Chamounix, on Tuesday morning last, a dis- 
 tance of nearly fifty miles to the soi^theast. A dili- 
 gence is a kind of closed coach, with windows all along 
 the sides, from which to observe the scenery along the 
 way. Besides this, there are seats on top which are 
 best for fine weather. The road over which we passed 
 was a fine pike, in many places cut out of the rocky 
 sides of the mountains, in many others extending, by 
 means of handsome bridges, ovei rushing rivers. 
 About one, we stopped for dinner, but, as we had taken 
 lunch with us from the Pension Flaegel, we needed 
 none. It was nearly dark when we finally reached Cha- 
 mounix. This is a valley fifteen miles long, bounded 
 on all sides by lofty mountains, and divided near the 
 middle by a narrow, but noisy, stream called the Arve. 
 
 We were met by the landlord of the Pension Couttet, 
 and, following him, we were soon lodged for the night 
 in a room whose window looked upon the majestic 
 Mont Blanc. Next morning, the sun was so dazzling, 
 we had to don our green veils before we dared to gaze 
 upon the surrounding Alpine peaks. The landlord 
 procured for us a guide and a mule for the day; and 
 
LETTER FIFTEEN. 173 
 
 about ten we started to climb Mountaiivert. Kate 
 and I rode by turns, each giving the other an oppor- 
 tunity to rest, till we had traveled about eight miles. 
 The mountain is only about a mile in height ; but the 
 road is so winding it makes quite a journey to reach 
 the top. At a small stone house, we found some 
 refreshments, then made preparations for crossing the 
 Mer de Glace (Sea of Ice). This is a mass of ice 
 twelve miles long and from one to four miles broad. It 
 has its origin in Mout Blanc, down whose sides it 
 sweeps, then winds around through the deepest gorges 
 of the chain, till it almost reaches the Yalley of Cha- 
 mounix. It is well called a sea of ice ; for in its sur- 
 face are crevasses fifty or sixty feet deep, resembling 
 the waves of the ocean in a furious storm. 
 
 From the little hotel, we had to descend some dis- 
 tance over a narrow path between stones, first to the 
 right, then to the left, till we reached the first wave of 
 the stilled ocean. We had tucked our dresses up short, 
 and put woolen hose over our shoes, to keep us from 
 slipping into the frightful chasms revealed at every step. 
 For three quarters of an hour we were traversing this 
 icy way, when we came to the ascent of the opposite 
 bank. One part of this steep is called the Mauvais 
 Pas, where the only thing between you and destruc- 
 tion is a succession of steps cut in the face of the rocky 
 precipice. These steps are not more than one foot in 
 w dth, and four or five inches in depth. An iron rod, 
 however, fastened just in easy reach, furnishes a secure 
 hold, so that one is in no real danger. But I shall 
 
174 LAKE GENEVA. 
 
 write to President all the details of the trip, so I will 
 trouble you with no more dry facts. I write this much, 
 so you can understand what I write to him. It was 
 seven o'clock when we got home, thoroughly drenched 
 by a rain which poured upon us the last hour of our 
 journey; but we soon had a bright fire, the servant 
 took our clothes and dried them, brought us a good 
 supper, then left us to enjoy it alone in our room. 
 The last half of the eighteen miles Kate was so 
 exhausted I had to let her ride all the time ; so you may 
 know I felt the need of rest, especially as we had 
 planned a similar journey for next day. 
 
 For this new journey we employed the same guide 
 and two mules. We were going to Martigny, over the 
 pass of the Tete Noire. What we saw and endured 
 that day, what fun we had, you will learn from my 
 published letter. We stayed all night at Martigny, 
 and till three and a half next day, then took cars for 
 Chillon, on Lake Geneva. We did not know our 
 station when we reached it, and the conductor did not 
 tell us, as they do in Germany, so we were carried on 
 a mile and a half beyond, to Montreux. We thought 
 this quite a mishap ; but it proved to be a blessing in 
 disguise. We tried to tell the ticket-master that we 
 had been put ofi" at the wrong place ; but he under- 
 stood neither English nor German. I stammered out, 
 '< Pension Vautier," and pointed at our baskets. He 
 understood this, and called a porter to take us to the 
 place. We had gone about a square, when the ticket- 
 
Letter fifteen. 175 
 
 master came running after us, saying in French some- 
 thing about our tickets. We guessed that he wanted 
 pay for the ride from our station to Montreux ; but 
 how much we knew not. At that moment, a passer-by 
 noticed our dilemma, and, intones of dear old English, 
 asked if he could render assistance. Thus unexpect- 
 edly were we provided with an interpreter, just when 
 it was the very thing needed. The extra charge was 
 only a few cents, and, promising to pay it to the por- 
 ter, we were allowed to proceed. We knew nothing 
 about the house to which we were going, only that it 
 was recommended by our guide-book. It was a long 
 walk up hill ; but, at last, the porter stopped before a 
 brightly lighted hall, and a nice, motherly-looking lady 
 in a black cap, met us at the door. We asked for a 
 room with two beds, but her response was in French. 
 Here was another tough place ; but she said something 
 and disappeared a moment to return with a modest 
 sweet girl, who immediately charmed us by her ability 
 to speak English. She said they had just one room, 
 but it was engaged for next morning early. 
 
 " Very well," I said; " wake us early as you please, 
 only let us stay all night." 
 
 Thus, we " came in one " of having to hunt 
 another place. Our room was delightful, and, 
 when we went down to supper, we found that 
 which made our happiness complete. We had eaten 
 nothing since ten o'clock, and then the quality of the 
 food caused us to eat sparingly. On the preceding 
 day, we had fared no better, so of the " sauce of hun- 
 
176 AN OLD CASTLB. 
 
 ger " we had no lack. There were two tables the full 
 length of the dining-room, and these were being fast 
 filled by elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. Silks, 
 laces, grenadines, diamonds, wit, — all were well 
 enough; but we gave them not a second glance till our 
 appetites were somewhat appeased. Graham bread, 
 white bread, crisp toast, cold meat, eg^ omelet, pre- 
 served fruits, fresh butter, rich cheese, fragrant tea, 
 constituted the bill of fare ; and we did ample justice 
 to all. 
 
 We did not repair with the rest to the drawing-room ; 
 for we had given directions to be waked at half past 
 five, and to have our. breakfast at half past six, and 
 we must retire without delay. This programme car- 
 ried out, with one of the delightful rolls from the 
 breakfast-table in the pocket of each, ready for our 
 lunch, we started back to Chillon, unencumbered by 
 baggage, for we had ordered that sent to the wharf in 
 time for the boat at half past nine. 
 
 Have you read Byron's "Prisoner of Chillon?" 
 If so, you know something about the old castle which 
 we intend to visit. This castle is built on a great rock 
 near the northeast bank of the lake of Geneva. It 
 has seven or eight towers, part round, part square, 
 and underneath is a dungeon dug into the rock below 
 the water. In this dark place, in the year 1530, Bon- 
 nivard was imprisoned, and, for six years, was chained 
 to one of the seven pillars dividing the gloomy space. 
 The stone floor around this pillar is worn out by his 
 footsteps to the depth of four inches. On this same 
 
LETTER FIFTEEN. 177 
 
 pillar is the name of Byron cut by his own hand. The 
 walls of the prison are more than three feet thick, and 
 the only light comes from openings not more than six 
 inches wide, and even this space is darkened by an 
 iron bar. In the upper rooms of the castle are kept 
 cannons and other military supplies, except in two rooms 
 which are vacant. These were the chambers of the 
 Duke and Dachess of Savoy, and are even ruder in 
 appearance than those of Mary Queen of Scots. Your 
 humble little bed-room is much nicer than those the 
 nobility of the tenth century had to occupy. We left 
 the castle at half past eight, having begged of our 
 guide a tiny flower as a souvenir of the place. We 
 walked to the boat landing, and had to wait about a 
 quarter of an hour for our steamer, the Cygne, which 
 moved with great deliberation over the wonderfully 
 blue waters of the lake. We found on board a gray- 
 haired English gentleman whom we had left at Cha- 
 mounix, and with him we chatted till he got off at 
 Lausanne, about half way to Geneva. Another, who 
 claimed to be an Englishman, said he was on his way 
 home from the East Indies. He said, as it was about 
 time for the Prince of Wales to come there on a visit, 
 he left ; because it would not do for two such great 
 men to be there at once. This speech had so much the 
 tone of America in it, that I began to doubt his pre- 
 tensions to any other nationality. 
 
 At every few miles, along the northern bank of the 
 lake, is some pretty little village surrounded by pro- 
 lific vineyards. It took us till half past two to get 
 
 12 
 
178 GENEVA. 
 
 here, and we expect to leave, to-morrow, for Genoa, 
 Italy. There is too much snow to go over any one of 
 the passes, so we shall go through Mt. Cenis Tunnel 
 on the cars. We are gctling on quite as well 
 ■without Vachel as we did with him. We miss his 
 company, of course, but that is all. We heard from 
 him yesterday, and he is in good health, good spirits, 
 and is making good progress. Please write very 
 soon to, 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
 LETTER XYI. 
 
 Geneva, Switzerland, October 18, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 ■4. ATE'S letter, a week ago, "was written from Gen- 
 
 —^^ eva, but we have been far from spending the 
 whole seven days in this rather uninteresting city. 
 The first Sunday sufficed to see and hear Pere Hya- 
 cinthe ; another two hours and we had visited the old 
 Cathedral, whose walls were once familiar with the 
 voice of Calvin; a short walk from the Cathedral 
 door brought us to the house where he lived and died ; 
 a few squares down the hill and we reached the banks 
 of the Rhone, near enough Rousseau's Island to dis- 
 
LETTER SIXTEEN. 179 
 
 cern through the trees the bronze statue of the 
 sophist; a half day satisfied us with gazing upon the 
 glittering contents of jewelers' windows, and enabled 
 us to invest all our " spare change," and then Geneva 
 was quite " done up." 
 
 But the dream-like view of the white-veiled Juno- 
 frau from Berne, the faint glimpse of Mont Blanc 
 from Geneva, and the mental picture of Alpine 
 grandeur derived years ago from Childe Harold, in- 
 spired us with a desire to approach nearer these -won- 
 ders of creation. 
 
 *' But is it not too late to venture into the moun- 
 tain region?" we asked of the polite servant who 
 showed us to our room the first of our stay at the 
 Pension Flaegel. 
 
 '* No, Miss, I think not, people are still going." 
 
 This same question Kate put to a middle-aged Irish 
 lady next morning at the breakfast table. 
 
 " Of course it is," was her reply. 
 
 " You'd freeze. Do you want to go to Italy? ' 
 
 "Yes," said Kate. 
 
 " Well, you can go through Mt. Cenis Tunnel ; 
 that's the shortest way. 
 
 We told her we had heard of the tunnel, but would 
 prefer going over a pass in order to see the moun- 
 tains. 
 
 "Over a pass? Oh! I've been over all them. 
 They are very nice but awfully bothersome. ^^ 
 
 "You know all about the great St. Bernard?" in- 
 quired Kate, growing interested in the " old traveler." 
 
180 MOUNTAIN PASSES. 
 
 '*No, I never saw that." 
 
 ''The Simplon?" 
 
 *' I never have been there either.'''* 
 
 Kate relapsed into silence, wondering what the old 
 lady meant by " all the passes." At every meal, with 
 seemino; delioht, she ao;ain assured us that we must re- 
 linquish the hope of going nearer Mont Blanc. 
 
 "It's getting colder every hour," said she on Mon- 
 day morning. 
 
 We felt the truth of this, and so did our aged, bald- 
 headed friend, who just now came in snuffling and 
 shivering. 
 
 *' I tell you I want another room," said he in quer- 
 ulous German to the French waiter, "the wind came 
 in on my head last night till I was nearly frozen." 
 
 " Did you say you would take coffee, sir?" inno- 
 cently asked the waiter, at the close of his tirade. 
 
 " Yes, I want coffee, but I say you must give me 
 another room, or I'll leave the house," said the old 
 man growing warmer with anger. 
 
 *'Yes, sir, I'll bring it directly," and as the boy 
 hurried away, our friend, in exasperation, drew his 
 woolen cap down close over his bare scalp, and stuffed 
 his shaking hands into the breast of his great coat. 
 
 A Scotch lady, across the table was affectionately 
 clasping her fingers around the warm coffee-pot. 
 ♦' Don't you think this cold rain in the valley is ac- 
 companied by snow on the mountains? " I asked of her. 
 
 ' ' Oh I I know it. The Jura chain is all white this 
 morning." 
 
LETTER SIXTEEN. 181 
 
 *' Don't you think it is too late to go over a pass into 
 Italy?" 
 
 "No, indeed, they go all winter in sledges," she 
 answered briskly. 
 
 Thus we had consulted Irish, German, and Scotch 
 authorities on the weather question, and yet were un- 
 decided. At this juncture we fell in with three Amer- 
 ican girls who had been to Chamounix only a week 
 before. 
 
 " Go, by all means," was their enthusiastic advice, 
 *' we were cauo-ht in a hail storm while crossing the Mer 
 de Glace, but it was lovely." 
 
 Without further delay, we bought diligence tickets, 
 and at 7:40 Tuesday morning began the fifty miles 
 journey between Geneva and Chamounix. 
 
 The scenery for fifteen or twenty miles is not 
 especially noteworthy ; but we found ample amuse- 
 ment in our study of human nature. One of our 
 companions wore the broad brimmed black hat and 
 sable gown, characteristic of the Catholic monk. I 
 know not whether it was his vigils, his fastings, his 
 flagellations, or his arduous labors which had developed 
 him into such a mass of flesh, but I do know that 
 he filled one-fourth of the coupe. From the moment 
 of starting till he left us at Booneville, he was busily 
 repeating a prayer or something to himself, ever and 
 anon refreshing his memory by reference to a little 
 book which he held in his hand. I do not know that 
 he was praying for the clouds to depart, but, at any 
 rate, the sun came out about nine, dispelling at the 
 
182 A JOLLY TRAVELER. 
 
 same time the mist from the mountain tops and our 
 last misgivings in regard to the weather. As the 
 " Holy Father" disappeared amidst the greetings oi 
 his flock at B., a ludicrously diminutive personage 
 hopped into the coach and perched himself upon the 
 vacant seat. 
 
 " Plenty of room ! plenty of room ! " said he fuss- 
 ily, spreading his traveling blanket over himself and 
 two or three of his neighbors. 
 
 *' Here's what's good friends," he exclaimed, as, 
 with a patronizing air, he flourished a bottle of wine 
 in their faces. 
 
 " But it's sealed," suggested one of the spectators. 
 
 "What of that!" and with an expression of cer- 
 tainty that his forethought must command admiration, 
 he threw back his black coat, thus displaying the 
 pocket of his rusty brown vest from which protruded 
 a cork-screw, a box of matches, and a comb, between 
 whose teeth there was not room for a single hair to 
 pass. 
 
 " That's not all yet," said he, and with a wink of 
 self -approbation, he produced half a dozen packages 
 of the most forbidding cigars. 
 
 " Let's have a smoke," and he generously off*ered 
 each gentleman one of the tempting bits of tobacco. 
 We breathed more freely when all declined, and he, 
 much disappointed, began again to tie up the bundle, 
 keeping only one out for his own use. Luckily he 
 was for some time deterred from lighting this by the 
 difficulty of wrapping three hundred cubic inches of 
 
LETTER SIXTEEN. 183 
 
 tobacco in one hundred square inches of paper. Get- 
 ting one end covered, he would attempt to adjust the 
 string, when the cigars would roll out at the other ; 
 making this secure next time, they would tumble to 
 the floor in another direction. Finally some one gave 
 him a larger paper, and now we prepared ourselves to 
 endure the sickening smoke; but as he were searching 
 for his matches, a new idea crossed his small brain. 
 A hugh brass chain dangled from the button-hole of 
 his vest, and he now drew from its hiding place the 
 elegant watch attached to the other end. He looked 
 at it a minute, then at the sun, then held it to his ear, 
 shook it vigorously, and said, as if surprised : — 
 
 «* The thing's stopped ! " Some one handed him a 
 key with which to set it a going; but as dumb' 
 watches are a little troublesome to wind up, he failed 
 in the attempt. At length the cigar was lighted, and 
 we turned our heads to the open window, but after 
 two or three puffs the queer creature fell asleep and 
 let the fire die out. 
 
 Another of our companions was a woman whose 
 yellow, wrinkled skin, deep frilled black silk cap, 
 short gray woolen dress, and wooden shoes, proved 
 her to be one of the peasantry of Savoy. She had 
 come with us about ten miles when, at a little village, 
 she asked the driver to let her out. A man whose 
 face bore the marks of care and age stood ready to 
 receive her. He was clothed in a style peculiar to this 
 region : pants loose, straight and shapeless ; hat 
 slouched and well-nigh brimless ; blue cotton blouse. 
 
184 MOUNTAIN SCENES. 
 
 soiled and beltless. With his hands in his pockets, 
 I never saw a more unromantic specimen, so I was 
 wholly unprepared for the scene which ensued. As 
 the woman descended from the vehicle, he received 
 her with open arms, embraced and kissed her warmly, 
 and both began weeping aloud with joy. You see she 
 had been ten miles from home, and he had never 
 expected her to get back safe from such a distance. 
 The last I saw of them she was industriously wiping 
 her eyes with her red Sunday handkerchief, while he 
 was using the sleeve of his blouse for the same purpose. 
 Bat traveling in a diligence affords so much leisure 
 for observing persons and things that I have quite 
 filled my letter before getting half way to Chamounix . 
 The road itself was an interesting study, being, as it 
 is, a dry, smooth and safe highway through marshy val- 
 leys, along steep rocky mountain sides and over-rushing 
 rivers. We passed many an apple-laden orchard on 
 the way, where men and women, boys and girls, don- 
 keys and baskets were busy gathering in the fruit; 
 we passed many a herd of sheep or cattle watched 
 over by a woman, who stood knitting all the 
 while. At one village inhabitants were assembled 
 for a merry-making, and were *« tripping on as light 
 fantastic toes" as wooden shoes would admit; at 
 another it was wash-day, and the female part of the 
 population were collected around the common pump, 
 soaking the soiled linen in the large stone basin of 
 cold water, rubbing it with their red hands or pound- 
 ing it on the rough stones. Amidst such novelties the 
 
LETTER SIXTEEN. 185 
 
 day did not seem long, and our patience did not fail, 
 though our driver stopped for a friendly chat at every 
 roadside inn. It was quite dark when we reached the 
 " vale of Chamounix," and Kate must tell you how 
 we felt at opening our eyes next morning upon Mont 
 Blanc. 
 
 Genoa, October 20. — I have purposely kept my 
 letter that I might tell you of our safe arrival here. 
 "We reached here about noon yesterday, and after 
 lunch started out to find the American Consul. The 
 streets are so narrow and dark, the people have such 
 black eyes, and they look at one so hard, that, for the 
 first time, we felt a little nervous at being alone. It 
 was after office hours, so we had to go back again to- 
 day to see the Consul. We found some broader 
 streets, and as nobody tried to harm us, we began to 
 feel a little bolder, and after a pleasant interview with 
 Mr. Spencer, his wife, son and daughter, we gained 
 sufficient assurance to visit two palaces and the Campo 
 Santo (cemetery) this afternoon. Mr. S. had just 
 returned from Milan where he was present at the 
 entrance of the German Emperor on Monday. We 
 might have gone there to meet his Majesty, only we 
 didn't care about paying thirty francs a night for 
 lodging. We start for Florence to-morrow or next 
 day. Address us in care of the American Consul 
 there, for if he is as agreeable as the one in Genoa, we 
 will be glad of an excuse to call on him. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
186 FLOEENCE. 
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 
 Florence, Italy, October 26, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother South: 
 
 'ESTERDAY, we went to the bank of Emanu- 
 elle Fenzi, and there found a whole package of 
 letters, among others two from yourself. These, with 
 the one found at the consulate in Genoa, make three to 
 be answered in this one. The banker gave us the 
 precious package, and then asked us to sit down and 
 read them while he should change some money for us. 
 I first read my home letter, for I was anxious to hear 
 whether or not Brother J.'s wedding had come off at 
 the expected time. How sorry I am not to have been 
 with my dear Brother in the first hours of his wedded 
 bliss ; but his affection for me has always been so 
 warm, I know he will be atender and devoted husband. 
 Indeed, if my future husband proves to be as kind 
 and attentive as my brothers have always been, I shall 
 be quite content. 
 
 F. said in her letter she was expecting you down 
 soon, and seemed quite happy in the anticipation. 
 Dear child ! she is lonely enough without me, and I 
 thank you for cheering her by a visit. She doesn't 
 care much for the society of most girls of her own 
 
LETTEE SEVENTEEN. 187 
 
 age; because, she says, *' they are always talking of 
 beaux, or some such nonsense.'* She needs the com- 
 panionship of one who can appreciate her feelings and 
 sentiments. I remember the unsatisfied longings of my 
 own nature at her age. But Providence has dealt 
 kindly with me in the gratification of my most ardent 
 desires, and I believe the same Good Father will pro- 
 vide for her. But here I am, discussing family matters 
 with you again, a subject upon which I used never to 
 speak to any one but Vachel. 
 
 I saved your letters till last, and shall answer some 
 questions among their contents, but first shall tell you 
 how we arrived in Florence. Well, we left Genoa, on 
 Friday, Octobea: 22nd, at a few minutes past one p. m., 
 and reached Pisa that evening at seven and a half. 
 Next day, we went to the Leaning Tower, and climbed 
 to the top without upsetting the old structure. We 
 also visited the Cathedral, the Baptistery, and the 
 Campo Santo, all on the same square with the Tower. 
 That same evening we took the cars for this place, 
 reaching; here at 9:30. We came at once to the Hotel 
 Pension Suisse, where we took a room for three days 
 till we could look around and find a permanent home. 
 The next morning was Sunda}'", so we searched out 
 the American Union Church, where we attended ser- 
 vices. I think the pastor is a Methodist. He came 
 round and gave us a cordial greeting. He preached a 
 very good sermon on the sentence, " He is able," 
 except he put too much stress on God's power and 
 
188 FLORENCE. 
 
 too little on man's work. They have Sunday School 
 at ten a. m., and I think we shall attend. 
 
 But, now, I want to give you the rest of our exper- 
 ience at Chamounix. Kate is writing it for the Times; 
 but I want to give more of the particulars. My letter 
 to President takes us to the Pension Couttet, in one 
 of the three villages which adorn the valley. We 
 found at the hotel an Australian who had been there 
 for two days waiting for suitable weather to climb the 
 mountains ; but we told him we had been everywhere 
 blessed with sunshine, and felt sure it would come to- 
 morrow We did not really feel so sure^ but, next 
 morning, when we found our prediction verified, we 
 said to the Australian, 
 
 <' Well what do you think of the weather?" 
 
 He looked suspiciously at the sunlight, viewed 
 through a field glass the rising mists, and said with an 
 air of despondency, 
 
 *'You can't trust to appearances at Chamounix in 
 October." 
 
 Rather discouraged by his heartless, lazy tone, I 
 begged him to inquire the landlord's opinion. 
 
 " You can go anywhere you please, to-day," was his 
 prompt response. 
 
 Now, the Australian wanted to make the same 
 excursion as we did; we told him we could not speak 
 a word of French, and feared we could not make the 
 chief of the guides understand us; we hinted, in every 
 polite way, that a little assistance would call forth our 
 
LETTER SEVENTEEN. 189 
 
 gratitude; but he wouldn't take a hint. I am sure an 
 American gentleman would have offered to employ 
 for us a guide when at the office seeking one for him- 
 self. Finally, I asked him to please tell the landlord 
 to order for us an English or German-speaking guide 
 with one mule. This he managed to do in a half 
 reluctant way, and, with a poor opinion of English 
 gallantry, we began preparations for the ascent of 
 Montanvert. All in readiness we began to look 
 impatiently for the coming of our guide ; and, at last, 
 passing into the kitchen to try some gesticulatory 
 inquiries, we found there a rather small, respectable 
 looking nan, seemingly about thirty-five years of age. 
 Eaising his white hat, he stood waiting for us to address 
 him. 
 
 "We asked the landlord to send us a guide," we 
 said. 
 
 *' Yes ; I be he," was his reply, " I be ready half 
 an hour. Madam." 
 
 We were delighted with his English and his honest 
 face, and expressed our anxiety to set out. Kate 
 mounted the mule ; we stopped at a little shop to buy 
 our iron-tipped mountain-sticks; and then with the 
 mule led by the guide in advance, myself and a small 
 boy in the rear, the procession started. We had not 
 bargained for the boy; but Monsieur Balmet (our 
 guide) declared him an indispensable auxiliary. The 
 mule merely walked, but I found it a little difficult to 
 keep up with him, so I fell back under the pretense of 
 gathering Alpine plants. I have often heard of ' « wind- 
 
190 MONTANVEET. 
 
 ing mountain roads," but never before had any concep- 
 tion of the term. We had to go half a mile to the left, 
 then, making a sudden turn, go as far to the right, to 
 find ourselves, by this mile of travel, but ten feet 
 nearer the top than before. 
 
 "Are you not tired. Madam?" asked M. Balmet, 
 as T overtook them awaiting me at the end of the first 
 mile. 
 
 "Yes; I should like to ride, but how am I to get 
 up?" 
 
 "Oh, easily enough," said he helping Kate to dis- 
 mount. " Here, put your foot m my hand, take hold 
 of the pommel — now ! one, two, three, — up ! " and, 
 sure enough, I was up. I know Lord Chestei'field, 
 says that is the way to help a lady into the saddle ; but 
 I never saw it tried before. 
 
 Little by little we crept up till M. B. announced : — 
 
 " We arrive at half way to Montanvert." 
 
 "And we are now above the pines," I suggested; 
 " let us stop to get a view." 
 
 "Yes, Miss," said the guide; for he had heard Kate 
 call me miss, and now corrected his mistake in the 
 use of "madam." By the way, my bill at every 
 hotel is made out to " Mrs. Lindsay ; " but we never 
 tell them any better, for there is a kind of protection in 
 the title "Mrs., " or *' Madam." 
 
 The view from our half way station was full of com- 
 bined grandeur and beauty. Three thousand feet 
 below lay the Vale of Chamounix, a bright, green , 
 spring-like spot, shut in by wintry mountains. On 
 
LETTER SEVENTEEN. 191 
 
 the southwest is the Mont Blanc chain, on one of which 
 we now stood; on the northwest, the Red Needles, 
 whose sharp red peaks rose up in marked contrast with 
 the white summits beyond. Opposite us a zigzag path, 
 showing the course by which the tourist must ascend 
 the Filegere, seemed a photograph, or mirrored 
 image of the one over which we were passing. From 
 the Col de Balm, the north guard of this cherished 
 vale, came dashing down the waters of the Arve, which 
 are met by the Arveiron, a tribute from the Mer de 
 Glace. So impetuously do they rush over their stony 
 bed, that all the way to the mountain top the sound 
 lingers in the ear, at first, distinct as thunder, then 
 o-rowing; fainter and fainter till but a murmur 
 remains. 
 
 " We mustn't wait too long," broke in the voice of 
 Balmet, " the sk}^ is getting covered; the fine weather 
 may be gone before an hour. The boy may lead the 
 mule, and you may take my arm, Miss to help you 
 along," said he, as we started on. 
 
 I did so, and we chatted along quite socially. Find- 
 ing we were from U. S. A., he said : — 
 
 " I have a brother in Newville (Louisville), Ky." 
 
 He was quite pleased to learn that Kentucky was our 
 native State. He also informed me that he had a wife 
 and children in the valley, that he attended school in 
 the. winter to improve his English, etc. 
 
 Alternately walking till weary, then riding till rested, 
 we reached the little stone house at the top of Montan- 
 ert, where refreshments were offered. 
 
192 MER DB GLACE. 
 
 *' We'll take coffee, if you have it," was our first 
 order. 
 
 "Yes, we have coffee, but no milk to put in it," 
 answered the master of ceremonies. 
 
 *' Well, we'll take beefsteak without coffee," was 
 our next decision. 
 
 *' We haven't beefsteak, but we have mutton chop," 
 was the reply. 
 
 You see the top of a mountain is not the best 
 place in the world for an extensive bill of fare; 
 but we ate what we could get, and paid well for 
 it, too. We shook the snow from our skirts (it was 
 six inches deep up here); dried our feet; bought 
 some pieces of woodwork as mementoes, and felt little 
 inclination to leave the fire. 
 
 "We must go now," declared M. B., and we fol- 
 lowed him to the door. 
 
 " Snowing 1 we both exclaimed in one breath. 
 
 "Yes," said B. gravely; I fear we must have 
 another guide to cross the Mer de (r/ace in this storm." 
 
 "Is it dangerous?" I asked; "if so, we can go 
 back to Chamounix, by the road we came. We wish 
 to take no risks." 
 
 "Oh! no; it isn't dangerous," said he, fearing to 
 lose three francs by our adopting this course. " It 
 isn't dangerous, but we must go very slowly; fori 
 must take one over a bad place, then come back after 
 the other." 
 
 "Is that all? I think we'll risk going with you 
 alone.'* 
 
LETTER SEVENTEEN. 193 
 
 He was disappointed, but said no more. We were 
 now on the borders of the ** Sea of Ice," which has its 
 source in the many glaciers of the Mont Blanc chain. 
 From every deep gorge proceeds a frozen stream, and 
 these unite above the Montanvert into a broad expanse 
 of motionless billows, which sweep down between the 
 river peaks to the very edge of the valley. 
 
 ' ' How far is it across ? ' ' was our query. 
 
 "A mile, besides the moraines on each side — see 
 those two men have just passed over," said he. 
 
 Sure enough; there was our Australian, but so far 
 awa}^ his rather corpulent form was dwindled down to 
 that of a school-boy. 
 
 " We are ready to go I " said we, excited to see some 
 one else had already just accomplished what we were 
 about to undertake. The snow was falling faster, and 
 we were glad of it; for there is a spirit of wild 
 romance about a storm in the Alps. 
 
 " Walk carefully now," admonished our guide, and 
 surely there was need. 
 
 Stones brought down by long-ago avalanches formed 
 the moraines, and between these a path, sprinkled 
 with ashes, led down to the edge of the icy sea. 
 The snow did not hide the view, but aided the imasfina- 
 tion by making it limitless. 
 
 "Take Kate's hand, and I will follow in your 
 steps," was my direction to B., as we stepped on the 
 crest of the first wave. 
 
 On each side of the narrow path yawned a blue 
 
 18 
 
194 MANVAIS PAS. 
 
 crevasse fifty feet in depth. There was need now of 
 all my boasted freedom from dizziness. 
 
 "Wait, Miss, and I'll come back after you," said 
 the careful guide. 
 
 I made no reply, but when he had found a safe place 
 for Kate to stand, and turned back, he exclaimed; — 
 
 " What ! here? You walk the glacier well." 
 
 Almost immediately another giddy' passage opened 
 before us, and as I made that alone, he pronounced 
 me quite a mountaineer. Only once on the glacier, 
 and once on the opposite moraine, was it necessary 
 for him to give me assistance, so the other guide would 
 have been a needless expense. 
 
 Once over the frozen ocean, we made our way by 
 an easy path to the Chapeau, a limestone precipice on 
 which stood a little hut. We paused now and then to 
 gather mosses from the shadow of some great rock, 
 till B., tired of our loitering, called to us that we were 
 on dangerous ground, for often rocks came tumbling 
 down from above large enough to crush us instantly. 
 We looked up at the mountain sides of solid stone, down 
 which babbling brooks were hastening to the delights 
 of Chamounix, and found it hard to believe his words, 
 but we quickened our pace any way. 
 
 " We arrive now at the Manvais Pas " (Bad Pass) 
 said M. Balmet. " Catch hold of the iron rod, and 
 follow me; I can't help you now." 
 
 This view I can never forget. Had we fallen, the 
 cold bosom of the Glacier des Bois would have received 
 
LETTER SEVENTEEN. 195 
 
 us; immediately enclosing us were dark, damp, stony 
 precipices; while far behind stood the cold white sum- 
 mits, with which, two hours before, we had been face 
 to face ; but in front of us, a pure white mist was ris- 
 ing from the valley, concealing all the ruggedness of 
 our remaining journey. It was like the veil which 
 hides from us the difficulties of the future. 
 
 '* Fifty minutes, now, will bring us to the mule,'* 
 said the guide. The boy had taken the animal back 
 from Montanvert, and was now, no doubt, awaiting us 
 below. Kate was now well nigh exhausted, and, even 
 with the help of Balmet's arm, dragged herself along 
 with difficulty. 
 
 *' Miss, I can carry you," suddenly proposed the 
 guide, and stepping down below the rock on which she 
 was standing, he turned his back. I tried to induce 
 her to mount this novel steed, but she positively 
 refused. A musical tinkling of bells just then 
 attracted my attention, and looking up, its source 
 became evident. A triple line of goats, with mein 
 and step as grave as those of the cows whose place they 
 fill, were following us towards home. I counted 
 thirty, when the growing darkness made it necessary 
 to watch my steps. 
 
 We found the mule at the entrance to the forest, 
 and I made Kate ride the rest of the way home. 
 
 " Kate,, how do you feel I " was my first question 
 next morning. 
 
 " Oh ! oh I oh ! o-o-oh I " was the response, as she 
 tried to turn over. 
 
196 MAETIGNY. 
 
 I felt that way too.; but we decided that, at all 
 events, we must go to Martigny that day. We 
 dressed, packed our bundles, ate breakfast, discusi^ed 
 the weather with some newly arrived tourists, sent our 
 guide for two mules, paid our bills, and said "good- 
 by" to M. Couttet. You should have seen us start. 
 Behind my saddle, my basket was fastened; at the 
 side, three umbrellas, one of them of blue cotton, the 
 property of M. Balmet ; from another point of at- 
 tachment, dangled two shawl straps; so, when I was 
 mounted, there was very little mule left visible. Kate 
 was scarcely less ludicrous in appearance. If we may 
 judge from the number of smiling faces we met that 
 morning, the people of Chamounix are a happy, con- 
 tented fraternity. My steed didn't wish to go to 
 Martigny. I told him to " get up," but he didn't 
 understand English. I tried to say "He!" like the 
 guide, but my accent must have been faulty; finally, 
 I secured an interpreter in the form of a small branch 
 from one of the native pines, and, from that time, he 
 understood my meaning. 
 
 But we must make ready now to leave the Hotel 
 Pension Suisse, to establish ourselves in our new 
 lodgings, so my narrative must here be broken off. 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
LETTER EIGHTEEN. 197 
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 Florence, Italy, October 31, 1875. 
 Dear Brother Elijah: 
 
 two weeks ago, I was in Geneva, and from that 
 city wrote a letter to F. Now, I begin to feel at 
 home in Florence, and I will tell you how we went about 
 getting us a home here. Leaving the bank, where we 
 had read our letters from home, we repaired to the 
 Consulate. In Geneva, the consul had received us so 
 cordially, introducing us to his wife and daughter, 
 that we expected a similar greeting from the consul 
 here. In answer to our call, however, a tall, large, 
 black-eyed individual came into the room, and, in very 
 broken English, declared himself at our service. We 
 had intended to make several confidential inquiries 
 about the propriety of taking lodgings and eating at a 
 restaurant; about the customs of Italian ladies; about 
 the safety of our going on the streets alone ; but we 
 felt sure this could be no countryman of ours. Every 
 American whom we meet is ready to render any assist- 
 ance, and we feel free to ask of them any questions 
 whatever. Well, we asked the gentlemen if he could 
 recommend to us a pension. 
 
 «« Oh 1 yes; I know ze very one, what you want," 
 
198 FLOEENCE. 
 
 was his prompt reply, and he gave us a card by which 
 to find the house. 
 
 On the way, we were overtaken by a middle-aged 
 man, who bowed, smiled, and explained. 
 
 *' I be ze man, ze consul send you his house. I go 
 there." 
 
 We supposed by this, that we were being addressed 
 by the proprietor of the establishment of which we 
 were in search, so we followed him, keeping, however, a 
 sharp lookout to make sure that we were being led 
 aright. He stopped at No. 11, Via Montebello, 
 opened the door, and invited us upstairs to see his 
 rooms. They were two bright cozy apartments, a 
 bed-room and a parlor, and his terms were quite rea- 
 sonable ; but we asked leave to think about it till to- 
 morrow. We didn't quite like to trust ourselves with 
 an Italian, if we could do as well elsewhere. 
 
 At the next place at which we applied, the little girl 
 who answered the door bell, shook her head in response 
 to our queries, and saying: — 
 
 *^ Parlo ItalianOi" ran off up stairs, leaving us 
 waiting in the hall. 
 
 In a few minutes, she returned, accompanied by a 
 broad shouldered, muscular looking man, whose hair, 
 eyes, and beard were even darker than those of the 
 consul, or of our friend whom we had just left. But 
 there was something frank and pleasing in the expres- 
 sion of his face, so it was with less trepidation we 
 followed him up the steps. At the landing, we paused 
 while he turned the key, and flung open the ponderous, 
 
LETTER EIGHTEEN. ' 199 
 
 gate-like door, which admitted us to the most pecu- 
 liarly constructed house I ever saw. There were loug, 
 narrow halls, covered by a single strip of bright rag 
 carpet, and these halls communicated with each other 
 by curtained doorways, which occurred at most unex- 
 pected intervals. The corners" of many of the rooms 
 were acute, instead of right angles; but they were 
 clean, and rendered cheerful by the sun shining in upon 
 the yellow chairs and sofa cushions. Through curios- 
 ity, we asked if he were an Italian. 
 
 ''No, ladies," was his reply, " lam a Dane.'* 
 
 This is the first native of Denmark with whom we 
 have met. We left him in the same uncertainty as 
 the Italian, and, crossing the bridge over into the south- 
 west part of the city, we pulled the bell at Mrs. 
 Lautier's. Nobody came in answer, so we ascended 
 the stairs to the second story and pulled the bell there. 
 The door was opened, and upon inquiry, found Mrs. 
 L. was up another flight. This was getting rather 
 near the clouds, but we climbed this flight also, and 
 were met by a little German lady, who expressed her 
 regret that she had not a single vacant room. 
 
 " Now, let's go to Mrs. Jennings'," was my propo- 
 sition ; and, a few minutes later, we were seated in 
 the tasteful little parlor of this boarding-house. 
 
 Mrs. Milward had told us of this place, and we had ex- 
 pected we should finally settle upon it as our Florentine 
 home. A little, bustling creature soon appeared, and 
 so rapidly did her tongue move, that, in five minutes, 
 we understood each other perfectly. We objected to 
 
200 ■ FLOEENCB. 
 
 her six o'clock dinner; she agreed to give us tea in- 
 stead ; we objected to her single beds ; she agreed tf 
 substitute a double one ; we wanted sunshine ; she gavf 
 us a southeast room which meets this want. All this, 
 too, was to be ours, at less expense, than at any othei 
 place we had been. Our cozy little room looks very 
 homelike, and Mrs. J. is very kind to us. There arc 
 quite a number of English ladies and gentlemen in the 
 house, with whom we meet in the drawing-room of an 
 evening. 
 
 We have, as yet, seen few of the places of interest. 
 We went Thursday afternoon, to the Pitti Palace 
 where King Victor Emanuel used to live, and which 
 is one of the finest picture galleries of Europe. On 
 Friday afternoon, we went to the church of Santa 
 Croce, where Michael Angelo is buried, and where 
 many fine monuments are to be seen. On yesterday 
 afternoon, we took a walk out beyond the Porta Rom- 
 ana (gate towards Rome), beyond which extends a 
 carriage road bordered by cypress, larch, and ever- 
 green oak. This afternoon, we strolled throu2;h the 
 Boboli Gardens back of the Pitti Palace ; but I haven't 
 time, to-night, to describe any of these things. 
 
 We went to church, this morning, in time for 
 Sunday-school, where we formed the acquaintance of 
 the preacher's mother, a nice, pious old lady, on whom 
 we intend to call to-morrow evening. There is to be a 
 meeting at the parsonage on Wednesday afternoon, 
 for the purpose of devising some plan for missionary 
 work among the poor of the city, and we are invited 
 
LETTER EIGHTEEN. 201 
 
 to attend with the promise that some work shall be 
 assigned us. I expect to be very busy, here in Flor- 
 ence ; for, besides sight-seeing and church-going, I 
 intend to employ a teacher of French and German. 
 I shall go to the Consul to-morrow for advice as to a 
 teacher. By the way, we know now that the man who 
 first met us at the Consulate was only an Italian 
 deputy. We hope, to-morrow, to meet Mr Graham 
 himself. It is very difficult to decide upon a teacher, 
 when one is so ignorant as I am of the French lan- 
 guage ; but I must learn it before venturing into France, 
 or going further south in Italy. I wonder if I shall 
 love it as I do German. I do not like its nasal, com- 
 plaining, sound ; it has not, to my ear, the force and 
 dignity of the German. The first time I found myself 
 able to comprehend a sermon in German, I think I 
 was the happiest girl outside of America. It was the 
 third time I had heard the Lutheran preacher in the 
 Frauenkirche, in Dresden. The first time, I caught 
 only enough to make out that the conversion of Cor- 
 nelius was his theme ; the next Sunday, I shared in 
 the benefit of the exhortation ; but the third time, the 
 sentences I lost could be counted on my. fingers. His 
 text was Acts 14:8-18, about Paul and Barnabas at 
 Lystra. Of course, he uttered only familiar truths, 
 out to hear them spoken in a foreign tongue gave new 
 interest to each thought. Besidas, I was all the time 
 thanking the Supreme Being for having granted my 
 desire to learn the German tongue. It opens one's 
 
202 FLORENCE. 
 
 heart to a nation when the language of the people is 
 understood; to know that, with such strange sounds, 
 they but express the same emotions we feel ; to know 
 that their thoughts are much the same as our thoug-hts. 
 Three months before, a German conversation had been 
 as unintelligible to one as the quacking of so many 
 geese ; and I looked upon the people with only curious 
 eyes, not feeling that I had with them much in com- 
 mon. I only hope I shall succeed as well with French. 
 I am writing, now, to Prof. Eudolph a long letter in 
 German, containing an account of our travels to this 
 place. This is a very pleasant task, and I must close 
 now this letter to you that I may resume it. I am 
 going to inclose in this an application to Teacher's 
 National Bureau, Harrisburgh, Pa., which I wish you 
 to send them. You must put in fifty cents to pay 
 for my membership, as I want them to help me in 
 getting a situation for next year. Send it on as soon 
 as possible. I can not send it myself, because I have 
 not a cent of U. S. currency. Write very soon again. 
 
 EUDOKA. 
 
LETTER NINETEEN. 203 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 Florence, Italy, November 3, 1875. 
 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 |orY last letter to you was written from Genoa, 
 ^^^J^ where we spent three days in visiting the hand- 
 some palaces, and beautiful gardens. On the 22nd, we 
 left that city for Florence, via Pisa. The road from 
 to Genoa Pisa extends, for some distance, along the Med- 
 iterranean ; but it affords only taunting glimpses of the 
 blue expanse, because you are scarcely through one 
 promontory when you are hurried into the darkness of 
 the next. There was no danger of taking a super- 
 ficial view of this part of the country. Of course, we 
 stopped at Pisa, and tried the effect of our weight 
 upon the leaning side of the old bell-tower ; but, 
 luckily for future tourists, our three months in Ger- 
 many has so reduced our avoirdupois, that we left it 
 quite as erect as we found it. 
 
 The ten days since our arrival in Florence are but a 
 medley of searches for boarding-houses, inquiries for 
 teachers, hurryings through galleries, and visits to 
 churches. I can not give you my meditations at the 
 tomb of Michel Angelo ; because, just as I was going 
 to meditate, I caught sight of a beautiful monument to 
 Dante near by. I can not describe the ' ' facial expres- 
 
204 FLORENCE. 
 
 sions " in Giotto's old frescoes in the church of Santa 
 Croce; because, while I ought to have been studying 
 the dim remnants of the old master's work, I was 
 watching the countenance of the priest at the high 
 altar. 
 
 When I become a little used to the novelty of being 
 in Florence, perhaps I can concentrate my mind upon 
 some one of its artistic wonders. But I remember 
 clearly how I spent yesterday afternoon, and of that I 
 will tell you. 
 
 About three o'clock, the Rev. J. E. Kittredge, of 
 Massachusetts, pastor of the American Union Church, 
 called to take Kate and me we knew not whither. 
 The engagement had been made the previous after- 
 noon just as we were leaving his house after a half an 
 hour's chat with himself, wife, and mother. 
 
 " Would you like to go with me to visit the Walden- 
 sian school to-morrow? " he asked. " Dr. Parker, of 
 Washington, and one or two other gentlemen are 
 going, and you might be interested." 
 
 We gladly assented, for we wished to know what 
 means are in operation for the improvement of this 
 wretched people. By the way, we do not know 
 whether Mr. K. is Methodist, Presbyterian, or what, 
 nor has he asked us to what church we belong; but 
 we do know he seems to be a zealous worker, and fully 
 alive to the wants of benighted Italy. We were in his 
 class at Sunday-school last Sunday, and the subject 
 under discussion was the love of Christ to the world. 
 Of this he seemed to have as warm an appreciation as 
 
LETTER NINETEEN. 205 
 
 any one ; and that is all I know about his religious 
 belief. This is his second year with the church here. 
 
 Well, on our way he informed us that the building 
 we were about to visit was formerly the palace of 
 Cardinal Sulviati, who, three hundred years ago, was 
 hanged for his opposition to the Medici. 
 
 *' But here we are at the door," said he, as our car- 
 riage stopped in front of the round-arched entrance. 
 The others of the party had preceded us, and we now 
 joined them as they stood in the first school-room to 
 the left. 
 
 " Here is one of your county-women," said Mr. K., 
 presenting a rather delicate looking young lady of 
 the company. " She is on her way to Smyrna, as a 
 missionary." 
 
 After an introduction to the gentlemen, we all turned 
 our attention to the pupils, all of whom were girls, 
 eno-ao-ed in sewing. 
 
 "It is the hour for instruction in needle-wook," 
 explained the teacher. 
 
 "Are these dozen girls all you have? " asked Mr. K. 
 
 " No; this is All-Soul's Day, and many of them are 
 attending the festival," was the answer. 
 
 "Here is the boys' room," said a genial-faced, 
 middle-aged man, who now took the lead. As we 
 entered, the little fellows — the oldest was not more 
 than eleven — rose and placed their left hands to 
 their foreheads. We thought at first this movement 
 was intended to shade their eyes from the sun which 
 was pouring in at the windows ; but when the hands 
 
206 WALDENSIAN SCHOOL. 
 
 went down again in a minute, I supposed that was 
 their way of saluting visitors. 
 
 "Let's hear them sing a little," requested Mr. K. 
 
 In compliance with this, the girls were brought in 
 from the adjoining room, and all united with full, sweet 
 voices in a Sunday-school hymn. During the song 
 the teacher handed us a copy-book in which was page 
 after page of even, neat, unblotted writing. I looked 
 around to see if I could guess the owner. The smallest 
 of the girls, whose golden hair seemed out of place in 
 an Italian school, was trying to hide her face under her 
 curls in such a self-conscious way as to identify her at 
 once. 
 
 " This little girl will make a speech for you," said 
 the teacher, leading forward one of her charges. 
 
 Her light brown calico dress; her long sleeveless 
 white apron, and the comb holding her hair straight back 
 from her forehead, reminded me of a little schoolmate 
 who used to sit beside me in the old log school-house 
 where my education was commenced. She bashfully 
 cast her eyes to the floor, her left hand hung down at 
 her side, the fingers nervously twitching at the corner 
 of her apron, the right hand was busy with the ends of 
 a comforter which was tied around her throat. Of 
 course we couldn't understand a word, but so musical 
 were the tones that we were sorry when the last ones 
 were uttered. 
 
 " Let's see if the babies are all gone home yet," 
 suggested Mr. K., as we came out again to the hall. 
 
 *' Here they are I" he exclaimed, passing out into a 
 
LETTER NINETEEN. 207 
 
 porch which opens upon a lovely garden. I supposed 
 we would find them at play, but there they sat plying 
 their l^nitting needles as rapidly as we are wont to see 
 our grandmothers. 
 
 " How old are you? " asked Mr. K. of one who 
 had spread out on her knees one well-shaped stocking, 
 and the other was growing under her baby fingers. 
 
 " Cinque " (five), she lisped in reply. 
 
 * ' How many puplis have they in the whole school ? ' ' 
 I inquired as we passed two or three other rooms simi- 
 larly occupied. 
 
 " About two hundred, of whom fourteen or fifteen 
 are theological students. "We'll go now into the print- 
 ing office ; you see, Mr. Will has opened the door." 
 
 This Mr. W. was the leader to whom I have referred 
 before; he is a Scotchman, and is in some way con- 
 nected with the Waldensians in this enterprise. In 
 the first department they were setting type for French 
 and Italian papers and pamphlets ; in the second, one 
 press was in operation. 
 
 " This sounds rather aggressive," said Mr. E., as he 
 read the following heading to a freshly printed sheet-: 
 *' The Ten Commandments as found in the Word of 
 God; the Nine Commandments as mutilated by the 
 Koman Church." 
 
 " Yes, we print many such articles in our tracts.*' 
 
 One of the printers here distributed among the party 
 some specimens of their Sunday-school papers. A very 
 good wood-cut of the Emperor of Germany adorned 
 the first page of one. 
 
208 THE PRINTING OFFICE. 
 
 ** Remarkable coincidence that Just as the Emperor 
 was coming on a visit to Italy, the children's paper 
 should be filled with accounts of him," observed some 
 one. 
 
 These papers are about the size of The Little 
 /Soioer, Good Woi-'ds, etc., and contain similar 
 stories and illustrations. The next door led into the 
 bindery, and through this we passed into the apartment 
 devoted to packing up and sending otF the books to 
 different points. 
 
 " Are these distributed free, or do you sell them? " 
 inquired Kate. 
 
 "We sell chiefly, but at as low rates as possible," 
 answered Mr. W. " We issue about 350,000 pages 
 annually. Here is a work we have just finished, an 
 almanac of more than a hundred pages. Everybody 
 must have an almanac, and thus we reach many who 
 would not read our other publications." 
 
 Turning over the leaves of the volume we found 
 portraits of Victor Emanuel, Michael Angelo and 
 Prince Bismarck. 
 
 • '* We have to leave Bismarck out of the almanac we 
 print for France," said Mr. W., " and all this about 
 the saints, too. You see each month has a day conse- 
 crated to some saint, and in these articles we attack the 
 custom. The French consider them too hard on 
 Eomanism, and prohibit them on that account. There 
 is much more freedom for the press in Italy than in 
 the new republic." 
 
 We looked around the shelves and, in spite of their 
 
LETTER NINETEEN. 209 
 
 foreign dress, recognized many of the friends of our 
 childhood, and rejoiced to know that they can now 
 speak to the young hearts of Italy. 
 
 We were next shown into the neat chapel where ser- 
 vice is held every Lord's day, and into the smaller 
 room adjoining, where they have prayer-meetings on 
 Thursday evenings. As we were going upstairs to see 
 the theological department, Mr. W. called our atten- 
 tion to a tablet on the wall, at the head of the first 
 flight, on which is enrolled the names of the donors to 
 the institution. It seems that one of our countrymen 
 contributed one-sixth of the $30,000 which was paid 
 for the palace in 1860. 
 
 ** Now, you have seen all," said Mr. Will, as he 
 conducted us to the palace door. 
 
 We thanked him for the hour's pleasure and instruc- 
 tion, and turned our faces homeward. Mr. Benjamin, 
 the only young gentleman of the party, here left us, 
 and Miss Powers, the missionary to Smyrna, inquired 
 of Mr. K. where he was from. 
 
 *' He is just now from Lucerne, Switzerland, where 
 he has preached for two summers ; but his home is in 
 New Haven, Connecticut. He is unable to work at 
 present on account of a throat affliction ; but is a man 
 of some ability, and especially quick in devising ways 
 to approach people who are determined not to hear the 
 gospel. At one time he was protracting a meeting in 
 his own State, and the audiences were not as large as 
 he desired. He adopted the expedient of going around 
 to their houses and insisting upon their attending. 
 u 
 
210 FLOKENCE. 
 
 One man heard of these visits, and as he saw Mr. B. 
 approaching the house, he seized his saw and hur- 
 ried to the wood-pile. Mr. B. followed ; and as 
 the noise of the saw prevented conversation, he said : — 
 
 '*Work away; I'll sing you a song." 
 
 And while the man stubbornly continued, Mr. B. 
 sang him " Sweet By-and-by." 
 
 "I'll come to church to-night," said the man, throw- 
 ing down his saw as the sweet strains touched his heart. 
 But here is the house where Mrs. E. B. Browning 
 used to live; " and in discussing the poetess the 
 preacher was forgotten. Eudora. 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 Florence, Italy, November 7, 1875. 
 Dear Brother South : 
 
 'TFT HAVE just read over and revised for the last 
 (^ time a letter of eight pages to my German pro- 
 fessor; and, now, I will write my regular letter to 
 you. Since mailing my last, I have had no news from 
 you; but, doubtless, the ships, and not you, are to 
 blame. In my last, I told you the sequel of my 
 Chamounix experience, and of our safe arrival and 
 
LETTER TWENTY. 211 
 
 satisfactory arrangements in Florence. What shall I 
 tell you this time? Would you like a diary of the last 
 thirteen days ? Wonder if I can recall chronologically 
 the crowded events?- I'll try. I remember quite dis- 
 tinctly, that we came to this pension on Tuesday night, 
 October 26th, and it took till bed-time to get our 
 things in order. Wednesday', I spent in writing, and, 
 at noon, received the last of your always welcome 
 messages. 
 
 On Thursday morning, we went out to mail some 
 letters, and on returning, met some of our fellow- 
 boarders, who told us they were going to the Pitti 
 Palace, because it was a free day. We concluded it 
 might be well for us also to take advantage of free 
 days, as we want to see everything in Florence for as 
 little money as possible. It is quite a recent thing 
 that admittance fees to the galleries have been 
 charged. This palace has, since the sixteenth century, 
 been the residence of the reigning sovereign; accord- 
 ingly, Victor Emanuel, who is in the city on a ten 
 days' visit, is at present making it his home. In a 
 splendid suite of rooms is a collection of five hundred 
 of the works of the old masters. Raphael, Titian, 
 Michael Angelo, Sarto, Eosa, and others of like 
 renown, are household words with those who frequent 
 the Pitti Palace. Of course, one visit merely dazzles 
 you, and fills you with a confused consciousness of 
 numberless rare treasures perceived. We could stay 
 only two hours before time for returning to lunch ; and 
 from that time, till tea, we studied and wrote. 
 
212 FLOEENCE. 
 
 After tea, we went into the drawing room to get 
 acquainted with our fellow-boarders. Hitherto, we 
 had met them only at table ; but we could easily see 
 that none of them were Americans. We found them 
 conversing in groups, and, so absorbed were they in 
 each other, no one seemed aware that we had entered. 
 One young lady, who sits near us at table, seemed dis- 
 posed to be sociable ; but waited for us to make 
 advances. But we didn't make them, so there we sat 
 alone, and for some time silent. Opposite us was a 
 couple tete-a-tete on a sofa. The lady was tall, past 
 thirty, red faced, and, worst of all mustached. I didn't 
 know anything about her then ; but I know now that she 
 is an artist, very intelligent, and has traveled a good 
 deal. Beside her was a delicate looking youth, with 
 round, black, staring eyes, which instead of looking at 
 you, look through you to something ideal beyond. 
 He also is an artist, a German, who, later in the eve- 
 ning, awakened the piano to the strains of Beethoven. 
 As I was noting this pair, a frisky little woman sud- 
 denly popped herself between me and them. I think 
 she is a widow ; for yesterday morning, she declared 
 to Signor M. that her heart is stone to all the world 
 except her little girl. I supposed she kindly wished to 
 put him on his guard. By the way, he is an Italian, 
 and his English is very amusing. He adds an accented 
 "e" at the end of every word. For instance this 
 morning he said to me : — 
 
 "I brought-e you-e a package of-e books-e last-e 
 night-e. They was-e directed to-e Eudora Lindsay. 
 
LETTER TWENTY, 213 
 
 That is-e a very good-e name. In-e Greek-e it means-e 
 ' good-e gifts.' " 
 
 He is engaged in some kind of literary pursuits, gives 
 evidence of culture, but he says the English pronoun- 
 ciation is beyond his power. 
 
 Well, when we grew tired of silent observation, 
 Kate drew her chair up to the table near a lady who 
 looked as lonely as ourselves. 
 
 *' Do you speak German? " asked Kate. 
 
 In reply, the woman smiled, shook her head nega- 
 tively, bowed affirmatively, then pressed Kate's hand 
 confidentially. Kate repeated the question ; she 
 repeated the pantomime, but added in a whisper, " I'm 
 a little " — pointing to her ear. 
 
 Kate now saw that she was deaf, and, raising her 
 voice, finally succeeded in getting from her the address 
 of a German teacher. This done, we bade her good 
 night, and retired to our room with rather a poor 
 impression of English sociability. Since that, we 
 have spent but one evening outside of our room, and 
 with little better success ; for they played chess and 
 dominoes without once inviting us to take part. They 
 talk very little, though they seem to be very well edu- 
 cated. I believe it is true that English women do not 
 understand the art of conversation. We propose going 
 in again to-morrow night, and I shall inform you with 
 what success. A Scotch family, however, whom we 
 met in Geneva, have come in this last week, so I think 
 we shall find more life in the party. 
 
 On Friday afternoon, in accordance with our deter- 
 
214 SANTA CROCE. 
 
 mination to see something every day, we went to the 
 church of Santa Croce (pronounced Santa Crochy). 
 The foundation of this building was laid in the 
 thirteenth century, and all except the front was 
 finished in 1442. In 1863, a new marble fagade was 
 put to it, and its gleaming whiteness is little in keep- 
 ing with its time-browned sides. We spent an hour 
 and a half in making the circuit of the inner walls of 
 the church, pausing at every altar and tomb ; but I 
 must go back again in order to fully appreciate its 
 architecture and its many monuments. In the front 
 of the church is a statue of Dante, of whom there are 
 innumerable pictures and busts scattered over the city. 
 He is a strange looking personage ; I think he must 
 have been subject to melancholy. The corners of his 
 mouth are drawn down; his eyes are cast upon the 
 ground; one might imagine him to have before his 
 face the awful visions of the lower world of which he 
 writes so vividly. On the outside of the Uffizi, another 
 of the picture galleries is a succession of niches, in 
 which are statutes of the distinguished men of Italy. 
 Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio are side by side, and 
 are in striking contrast. Petrarch is next to the sor- 
 rowing Dante, and with his eyes raised to heaven, he 
 seems truly inspired. He seems not of the earth, but 
 far above it; seems longing for a sphere where his 
 ideal of purity and love may be realized. Boccaccio 
 meets your glance with an expression of pleasure at 
 recognizing another of his fellow mortals. I have not 
 read extensively the works of these poets ; but I think 
 
LETTER TWENTY. . 215 
 
 Boccaccio must have been well satisfied with the earth 
 on which the Creator placed him, and that he had most 
 of sympathy with his fellow- creatures. 
 
 On Saturday, I was busy with my German letter 
 until lunch, after which we took a walk out beyond the 
 Porta Eomana. Florence was, until recently, sur- 
 rounded by great stone walls, which are now torn 
 away, and the space turned into handsome drives. 
 -The ancient gates, however, have been left standing, 
 and towards one of them we directed our steps. The 
 street leading to it is tolerably wide ; but the sidewalk 
 is intended for walking single file. Kate and I like to 
 walk together, so we took the street itself. It is paved 
 with flagstones, hence is quite as good walking as the 
 footpath. Carriages were whirling past us every mo- 
 ment ; but the street was wide enough for both them 
 and us, so we talked along quite at our ease. Sud- 
 denly a great shouting arose behind us ; but as it is 
 nothing new for these Italians to yell hideously on the 
 streets, we didn't even turn to look behind us. It 
 came closer and closer, and with it the sound of wheels, 
 and the clattering of horses' feet. Another minute 
 and I should have been trampled under those same 
 hoofs, had not a single backward glance revealed to 
 me the impending danger. The dark-browed driver 
 scowled upon me, and I saw that he was furious, be- 
 cause we had not understood him when he shouted for 
 us to get out of his way. A heavy hack came lumber- 
 ing behind the two fiery black horses, and as the wheels 
 drew from the hard paving stones a continual moan, I 
 
216 BOBOLI GARDENS. 
 
 shuddered to think of their passing over my body. 
 This is the worst feature of European cities. Instead 
 of fining the driver for carelessness, the person injured 
 is fined for being in the way of the vehicle. The only 
 way to be safe, is to feel that every carriage has ex- 
 press determination to run over you, and then you may 
 keep yourself sufficiently on the alert. We stick to 
 the sidewalk now, and will not cross a street, if there 
 is a carriage anywhere in the vicinity. In fact, I am 
 almost afraid of a wheel-barrow. I do not desire such 
 an ignoble end, as I used to say to a young friend 
 about getting drowned in his mill-pond. 
 
 Our fright, however, did not prevent our enjoying 
 the walk ; for we were soon beyond the gate, and along 
 the broad highway where there was no danger. The 
 road on either side is bordered by tall, straight cypress, 
 bushy evergreen oak, and graceful larch. I don't 
 know how long we walked; but we finally came to 
 where the road terminated, at a large two-story build- 
 ing-, once the villa of a green, now an educational in- 
 stitution. Here, a beggar, in rags and dirt, stuck out 
 his hand for alms; but we are hard-hearted, as every 
 one should learn to be before coming to Italy. This 
 vagrancy is now strongly opposed by the city govern- 
 ment, and foreigners are requested to aid in its sup- 
 pression. There are various institutions for taking 
 care of the truly needy, and by contributing to these 
 one may be judiciously charitable. 
 
 On Sunday afternoon, the Boboli Gardens afforded 
 a suitable place for quiet meditation, so we entered the 
 
LETTER TWENTY. 217 
 
 gate and followed its winding roads. Ever and anon, 
 we came upon some nymph or faun of white marble 
 half hidden amid the close-cut hedge, or upon some 
 colossal Neptune forming the central figure of a foun- 
 tain's pool. In one tiny lakelet, myriads of little fish 
 were contending for the possession of a crumb thrown 
 by a boy upon the water; and, just as the strife grew 
 hottest, a duck swam to the spot and gobbled it up. 
 Even so result the struggles of us larger folks. 
 
 Monday came, and, as soon as breakfast was over, 
 we inquired at the Pension Suisse to see if Mrs Bradt 
 had yet arrived. Mrs. B. is a Massachusetts lady 
 whom we met at Genoa; who came to Pisa with us; 
 visited with us the sights of that place ; came on with 
 us to Florence where we have remained while she went 
 on a flying visit to Eome. She commissioned us to 
 prepare for her a plan by which she could see Florence 
 in three days. We didn't find her at the Swiss, so we 
 eame back home to revise our programme for the day. 
 The only item worthy of mention is our call upon our 
 preacher in the afternoon. He and wife are very 
 agreeable, and his white-haired mother is as sweet as the 
 sanctifying influence of an old lady's cup can make any 
 one. Mrs. Bradt came at night, and the next three days 
 were a specimen of flying around Europe on Cook's plan. 
 As we saw Mrs. B. leave for Venice, at the expiration 
 of the three days, we couldn't help pitying her for the 
 necessity of seeing hundreds of new sights on the mor- 
 row. Next morning I went out with the determina- 
 tion to secure, before my return, teachers of German 
 
218 FLORENCE. 
 
 and French ; and happily in less than an hour, I had 
 found the very thing I wanted. But here I must stop, 
 for this letter must be mailed. I had quite a treat, the 
 other day, in the shape of a package of late magazines ; 
 Harper^s, Scribner^s, Atlantic and Popular Science. 
 Hope the next will be a letter from you. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 Florence, Italy, November 16, 1875, 
 
 "X^^T'ELL, Brother Graham, I'm going to do this 
 ^V^v time what folks often do when no other topic 
 readily suggests itself — gossip a little about my 
 neighbors. Th.\& pension life affords rare opportun- 
 ities for meeting and discussing a variety of char- 
 acters. There are twenty-five of us here under the 
 care of Mrs. Jennings, a brisk little English woman, 
 who, ever and anon, darts into pur rooms to ascertain 
 our wants, and out again in an instant to see that they 
 are gratified. She hasn't time to tell us what kind of 
 people are in the bright, south rooms adjoining our 
 own, nor who occupy the colder, but more airy apart- 
 ments overhead ; so we have to satisfy our curiosity by 
 taking notes when we meet them at the table or in the 
 drawing-room. At breakfast, the very first morning 
 
LETTER TWENTY- ONE. 219 
 
 after our arrival, there sat next us a gentleman and 
 lady who were evidently related in some way; but 
 how, we could not tell. 
 
 "Do you take Italian lessons?" asked some one, 
 addressing her from the opposite side of the table. 
 
 " Yes; my brother and I recite every day," was the 
 answer. 
 
 "Your brother I " responded her interlocutor, in a 
 tone of surprise. 
 
 "Yes, my brother," she laughingly responded; " I 
 wonder if you had fallen into the common error of sup- 
 posing him my husband. I think it so stupid for 
 English people to make such a mistake I " she exclaimed 
 pettishly; " it is natural that the Italians should ; for 
 their young ladies are not allowed to go on the streets 
 with their brothers." 
 
 Now our curiosity was gratified, and an item in re- 
 gard to Italian customs also gained. A young lady 
 never goes on the streets alone either; but must be 
 accompanied by her mother, married sister, or maid. 
 The English and American travelers, however, do just 
 as they are wont to do at home, and the natives do not 
 question its propriety. 
 
 " Good mawning !" broke in a very big voice upon 
 our discussion of Italian manners. We looked up, 
 prepared to see a big man as the origin of the big voice ; 
 but not so. A tiny specimen of the gentler sex was 
 just settling herself at one corner of the breakfast- 
 table. Her face was much flushed; and I supposed it 
 
220 FLOEENCE. 
 
 had only been by great effort that she had succeeded in 
 uttering the masculine tones. But presently she burst 
 forth into a tirade against Mrs. Jennings, and the voice 
 was still the same. 
 
 " Do you know Mrs. Jennings has but one coffee- 
 pot? I never was in a pension before but each person 
 had her coffee-pot. It's ridiculous to have only one 
 coffee-pot. I must speak to Mrs. Jennings about the 
 coffee-pot." 
 
 She emphasized every word, and for a week in 
 succession repeated the speech every morning, till 
 finally she announced : — 
 
 " I have spoken to Mrs. Jennings about the coffee- 
 pot, and we are to have another coffee-pot." 
 
 I never ceased to wonder how such a little woman 
 could manufacture such a coarse voice, and I tried in 
 vain to imitate her, till I hit upon the expedient of 
 holding my whole body, neck and all, perfectly stiff 
 and upright, just as she uniformly carries herself. 
 Assume this attitude yourself, and recite from the very 
 depths of your chest this coffee-pot declamation, and 
 you will have an idea of the sound I am trying to 
 describe ; and this peculiarity of tone or voice is, to a 
 greater or less extent, characteristic of the English 
 people whom we have thus far met. 
 
 But Mr. M., our only Italian fellow-boarder, who is 
 a man of considerable research, says the pronunciation 
 of the English language is to him an impenetrable 
 mystery. Of the truth of this declaration he is con- 
 
LETTER TWENTY-ONE. 221 
 
 stantly giving unmistakable proof. For instance, the 
 other morning some one asked where he had spent the 
 preceding evening. 
 
 "I was to 'eare de American singere. You knowe 
 she-ise-de-beste-in Florence nowe. Se ise-pretty in de 
 face, but se 'as too many bonese — so ise-too tin. Se 
 singse very goode, bute-wen se oughte-feele in 'er 
 'earte, se don'te; it alle-comese-from 'er 'eade." 
 
 You see he adds an " e " to almost every word, and 
 he has as little respect for" h's " as if he had been 
 born in England. But I have quoted this not simply to 
 exhibit Signor M.'s imperfections of speech; I would 
 call your attention to another point. The criticism 
 which he makes upon the young American who has had 
 the courage to try the Italian stage, is what most of our 
 public speakers would meet from an Italian audience. 
 They judge a speaker by the iinpression he makes on 
 their hearts, and he can make none unless what he says 
 is an outpouring of his own emotions. I went a few 
 evenings since to hear Gavazzi in his own church, 
 among his own people, and in his own language. You 
 have heard him in English, and were doubtless charmed 
 with his reasoning powers, but you ought to see him at 
 home in his own pulpit. His theme was the false pre- 
 tensions of the papacy, the assumed purity of the 
 priesthood, and the ignorance of the populace who are 
 duped and tyrannized over by both. The sarcasm with 
 which he treated the first ; the ridicule to which he ex- 
 posed the second; the commiseration which he 
 expressed for the third — all were reflected from the 
 
222 GAVAZZI. 
 
 upturned face of every hearer. Their lips curled with 
 scorn as the Pope's power of excommunication was 
 commented upon ; they burst into laughter as the 
 absurdity of certain Catholic myths was presented ; 
 they could not refrain from applause as he urged them 
 to ' ' stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ had made 
 them free." SignorM. grew quite excited. 
 
 "Ah !" said he afterwards, "e speakse-from 'is 
 'earte. If'e wase-allowede-to speake-on de streetse- 
 like'e dide-ine de paste, 'e woulde- wake de people, 
 bute streete-preachinge-is prohibited now." 
 
 Signor M. is by no means a Catholic, but it would be 
 better for his future domestic happiness if he were. 
 He is engaged to an English lady, who is so strong a 
 believer in the Romish faith that she thinks it her duty 
 to persecute the heretical Signor M. by refusing to 
 release him from the now irksome bond. I don't know 
 why the lady should be so anxious to hold him to his. 
 contract, for the Italians are famous for whipping their 
 wives. Miss L. says the same outrage was once com- 
 mon among the peasantry of England, but it is now 
 punished by giving the man in return a severe public 
 flagellation, which never fails to cure him. She sug- 
 gests that the same law be introduced into Italy, but 
 Signor M. thinks a brief term in prison would be better. 
 I do not know whether he expects to have a personal 
 interest in the matter or not. 
 
 But I am about to forget our gray-haired old bach- 
 elor. How could I forget him, after so often watch- 
 ing for his appearance at the dining-room door ! One 
 
LETTEE TWENTY-ONE. 223 
 
 can see that the poor man has been used to waiting on 
 himself, for he seizes the " coffee pote," and with his 
 own hands pours out the beverage and puts in the 
 sugar and milk. He says Loch Lomond is a nice sheet 
 of water, and that the philanthropy of England far 
 surpasses the art of Italy. He has equally matter-of 
 fact-views on the subject of matrimony. 
 
 " Well," he says, " a man might as well be tyran- 
 nized over by a wife as by a housekeeper." 
 
 " Yes," answered a sharp-nosed maiden lady, look- 
 ing timidly up into his face from the other side of the 
 table, " you ought to try it." 
 
 *' Oh ! I'll never marry," was his crusty rejoinder, 
 and the lady fell to contemplating her dish of chestnuts. 
 
 The libel suit of the American artist, Connelly, 
 against his accuser, has furnished a fruitful theme for 
 the last week. Some of the ladies went to hear the 
 pleadings, and from their report I infer that Italian 
 lawyers are no less skillful than our own in the art of 
 splitting hairs. 
 
 "Do you think Connelly is guilty?" I asked of 
 Miss L. 
 
 " I do not know that he or any other American 
 artist claims work that is not his own, but I do know 
 that one Polish sculptor here in Florence has his studio 
 filled with statuary to which his name is attached, but 
 for not one piece of which he deserves credit. Every 
 design is procured for a mere trifle from poverty- 
 stricken Italian genius." 
 
 " Is the trial by jury the same here that it is in En- 
 gland?" inquired Kate. 
 
224 FLOEENCE. 
 
 **No, unanimity is not required; a mere majority 
 decides the case." 
 
 "Yese," added Signor M., "and de twelve mens 
 are not bounde to keepe dere mouthse shute. Ine de 
 eveningse dey go ine de cafe, and dey talk aboute wat 
 dis witnesse saide, and everybody knowse wat de sen- 
 tence ise to be." 
 
 I'll not puzzle you with any more of Signor M.'s 
 English, but he continued to say that the decision in a 
 criminal case was often dangerous to juryraen ; that 
 not unfrequently does one pay the forfeit of his life 
 for voting the death of the accused. Of course, the 
 Connelly case could not result in capital punishment of 
 any one, but it was of great imterest to every lover of 
 art and justice, so we were glad when the close of the 
 week brought an end to our suspense in regard to the 
 decision. 
 
 " Healey is sentenced to pay one thousand francs 
 and suffer an imprisonment of fifteen days," read Mr. 
 L. from Friday morning's paper. 
 
 It seems, however, that this fine is imposed on 
 account of abusive epithets applied by Healey to Con- 
 nelly, and not because his accusation, as a whole, was 
 false. It is generally believed that C. is of the num- 
 ber who are growing rich at the expense of artists too 
 poor to execute their own designs, Healey has taken 
 an appeal, so that he has not yet begun his half month 
 of prison life. 
 
 Now, I have introduced you to a few of our present 
 associates, but every few days new ones come in and 
 old ones depart. Most of us intend to go on to Rome 
 
LETTER TWENTY-ONE. 225 
 
 after some weeks. When we reach that city and make 
 a personal call on His Holiness we'll let you know. 
 By the way, we have been told that we must use a 
 little policy if we wish an interview with him. A lady, 
 in applying for this privilege, happened to remark that 
 she had just been to see Garibaldi. 
 
 ' ' What I ' ' exclaimed the priest from whom she 
 must get the permission, " would you insult the Pope 
 by shaking hands with Garibaldi one day and receiving 
 his blessing the next? You deserve to be tied to a 
 cart and led about town till you beg forgiveness." 
 
 My informant said she was wise enough to call on 
 the Pope first. 
 
 But speaking of Garibaldi reminds me that we have 
 in the house a namesake of this distinguished man. 
 As yet he occupies no higher office than that of errand 
 boy to Mrs. Jennings; but if he were in the United 
 States he might become a Senator. He'll soon speak 
 English as well as Signor M., though he only catches it 
 by ear, and doesn't always know what it means. Kate 
 said to him one day as he brought her a letter : — 
 
 '* Thank you, sir, very much." 
 
 That evening he brought in our tea, and setting the 
 waiter on the table, said, with a perfect accent: — 
 
 " Thank you, sir, very much." 
 
 And I heard him afterwards boasting to Nina that 
 he could speake ^^Inglese.'^ But, as Signor M. says, 
 " I musse bide yoiie goode nighte." 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 15 
 
226 FLOBENCE. 
 
 LETTER XXn. 
 
 rLORENCE, Italy, November 21, 1875. 
 Dear Brother South : 
 
 tWENT this morning, at nine o'clock, to hear the 
 German minister, and afterwards attended the 
 American Union Church. This is the second time 
 I have heard the German and I like much his 
 clear expositions of Scripture. His congregation is 
 small, so I always find room on a front seat, where I 
 can watch every motion of his lips. It requires little 
 more effort now to understand a discourse in German 
 than in English. I love the language, and feel attached 
 to the people who speak it ; but I am not sure, that as 
 a missionary field, Germany is the best that could now 
 be chosen. You say, if you could only speak the lan- 
 guage, you might with the simple Gospel, shake that 
 nation to its center. German is the most difficult of 
 European tongues, except, perhaps, Kussian; it takes 
 long to acquire fluency in its use, and the warmth of 
 your appeals might be lost by the choice of the wrong 
 word. By patient study, liowever; by mingling with 
 the people, one could finally overcome difficulties, and 
 be able to plead effectively the story of the Cross ; 
 but I can tell you of an easier language, and a more 
 
LETTEB TWENTY-TWO. 227 
 
 ready harvest. Italy is Just awaking from the long 
 stupor in which Eomanism has buried her; she is 
 utterly disgusted with the long reign of tyrannical 
 superstition ; her faith in the old myths is shaken, and 
 now is the time for something new and good to be pre- 
 sented. Waldensians and the Free Church are working 
 in this cause ; but I think there is need of more labor- 
 ers. I may be mistaken, but I think there is no better 
 prospect for successful missionary labor than is offered 
 by this interesting land. I have not sufficiently invest- 
 igated the matter to know what plan of operations 
 would be best ; but I will learn all I can of Italy's pre- 
 sent condition, and then can better judge. If a school 
 could be instituted where the young could be taught 
 the Word in its purity, it seems to me much good 
 might thus be accomplished. 
 
 Kate has written her sister to send you a little book 
 called the '* Awakening of Italy," and many of the 
 prophecies in regard to the improvement of her con- 
 dition have since been fulfilled through the instrumen- 
 tality of Garibaldi and Victor Emanuel. But these 
 military heroes can only gain for them freedom from 
 the temporal power of the Pope ; it is only the true 
 principles of Christianity which can make them free 
 indeed. The Italian is the most musical, and the least 
 difficult of all modern tongues; especially, is it easy 
 to one who has studied Latin thoroughly.- I think, 
 then, in view of all these facts, that our church would 
 do well to make this a missionary field. Of course, a 
 man without support from home could do nothing here.* 
 
228 FINE ARTS. 
 
 The people among whom he must labor are very poor, 
 many of them not able to get work by which to sup- 
 port themselves; so, by coming here without means, 
 he would only add himself to the number of beggars 
 which are already the country's pest. But, for the 
 present, we will let the subject rest, trusting the Good 
 Father to indicate to us the proper field for our united 
 labor. We are both unusually blessed with health and 
 powers of endurance; God must intend us to use these 
 gifts for his glory. 
 
 You say I must not neglect my painting and music 
 while in this land] where the fine arts reign supreme. 
 In this I must leave your admonition unheeded; there 
 is lack of both time and money. My German I must 
 not neglect ; for I expect to make use of that here- 
 after; I must learn French enough to at least meet the 
 demands of travel. In order to appreciate Florence we 
 must read up the historical associations of its many 
 places of interest. I must write with care my letters to 
 President. Just here, let me say, I do not agree with 
 you in thinking I would do better to write sermons 
 for the Times. Each copy of the paper contains 
 articles of this kind; my letters induce some persons 
 to take the paper, who would not otherwise do so, and 
 thus better sermons than I can write are circulated 
 through my influence. By telling a simple story of 
 what we see and hear we awaken interest in these lands, 
 and this interest may develop itself into a missionary 
 spirit. 
 
LETTER TWENTY-TWO. 229 
 
 But I am digressing from my recital of my daily or 
 weekly duties. Even visiting the picture galleries 
 affords constant occupation. You must learn the 
 biography of every artist" before you can appreciate 
 his work ; for one of Ciraabue's masterpieces would be 
 a caricature for Raphael, or any other later artist. I'll 
 tell you something of the little I know about Italian art. 
 Before coming to Florence, I had heard of Raphael, 
 of Michael Angelo, of Titian, and a few others of like 
 note; but of art, as a whole, I knew nothing; hence, 
 if I tell you things you already know, it will be because 
 I estimate your ignorance by my own. 
 
 Well, Florence is the center and source of Italian 
 art, and Cimabue is called its founder. He was born 
 at the beginning of the thirteenth century, and 
 acquired a widespread reputation. Of course, to a 
 modern eye, when considered without reference to the 
 age in which he lived, his pictures are supremely ridic- 
 ulous; but when we remember that Cimabue repre- 
 sents the infancy of art, we are disposed to look with 
 pleasure upon even a faint approach to a true portrayal 
 of nature. He often has an enormous head appended 
 to a long, thin body; his representations of the infant 
 Savior are as stiff as puppets ; the eyes are little more 
 than two slightly curved lines meeting at each extrem- 
 ity, in the form of a very elongated ellipse; but his 
 flesh tints are not bad, and his drapery hangs some- 
 what gracefullly. 
 
 Cimabue was of the nobility, and, one day he was 
 
230 GIOTTO. 
 
 out riding in the country, when he came upon a youth 
 tending a flock of sheep. The gentle animals were 
 nipping the grass around him, and he was whiling 
 away his time by drawing their portraits on a large 
 stone. Cimabue saw, in the rude sketch, the marks 
 of genius, so he took the boy to his house, where he 
 taught him to paint. 
 
 Giotto (that was his name) did not adhere to the 
 instructions of his master, but took nature for his 
 model, and thus introduced a new era in art. His 
 pictures are mostly frescoes, that is, paintings on the 
 plastered walls of churches or bell-towers ; many of 
 them have grown too dim to be discerned ; some have 
 lately been discovered under the whitewash in the old 
 church of Santa Croce. His subjects, like those of 
 most artists of his century are of a religious nature ; 
 such as scenes in the life of Christ, miracles and 
 martyrdoms of some saint. He is specially noted for 
 his crucifix. Previous to his time Christ was repre- 
 sented either erect on the cross, with his hands and 
 feet nailed fast, or he was made simply the embodi- 
 ment of physical agony. Giotto modified this last by 
 giving to the face a look of sweet resignation, an 
 expression of heavenly joy triumphing over bodily 
 anguish. It is said of him that he induced a man to 
 suffer himself tied to a cross, and then stabbed him in 
 order to catch his expression as the death-pang passed 
 over his frame. The crucifix painted from this model 
 he presented to the Pope, and while " His Holiness " 
 gazed with rapture upon the great work, Giotto con- 
 
LETTER TWENTY-TWO. 231 
 
 fessed to him the deed by which this perfection had 
 been attained. The Pope was shocked, and pro- 
 nounced upon him the sentence of death ; whereupon 
 he seized a brush and seemingly obliterated the whole 
 picture. The Pope was so grieved that he promised 
 pardon at the price of restoring the wonderful cruci- 
 fix; whereupon Giotto, after exacting this promise in 
 writing, easily removed the coating of black he had 
 smeared over the canvas. 
 
 Giotto was followed by Taddeo Gaddi, Orcagna, 
 Aretino, and others, who copied their manner of exe- 
 cution mainly from their master. They invented new 
 designs, however, in fact, Aretino, in painting the 
 " Fall of the Rebel Angels," made Lucifer such a 
 horrid creature that the picture haunted him day and 
 night, till it finally hastened on his death. 
 
 Orcagna has, in one of the churches here, a repre- 
 sentation of the Lower World, and opposite this' 
 "Paradise." The lost are undero-oinsr all kinds of 
 tortures ; being dipped in boiling water, roasting on 
 huge gridirons, swimming in lakes of glowing flame, 
 contending with huge serpents, etc. The blessed are 
 marching around the throne, dressed in gay colors, 
 and chanting everlasting strains from ever open books. 
 One feels almost as sorry for the poor creatures con- 
 demned to such monotony as for the tortured wretches 
 on the opposite wall. Orcagna' s most noted works are 
 his " Last Judgment," and the " Triumph of Death," 
 both of which are in the old Campo Santo, at Pisa. 
 The latter represents three kings, just returning from 
 
232 DA VINCI. 
 
 a lively chase, with their thoughts full of the day's 
 sports, when they find their progress suddenly impeded 
 by three coffins, in which are three corpses, the exact 
 images of themselves. Painters, nowadays, try to 
 make their scenes probable; but Giotto's school 
 thought only of portraying vividly the lesson intended. 
 In the beginning of the fifteenth century, Lippi and 
 Massaccio introduced a better imitation of nature. 
 Their figures are more graceful and better propor- 
 tioned ; their colors blend more harmoniously ; and 
 they begin to give a little depth to their scenes. Of 
 the pious and gifted Fra Augelico, I shall probably 
 speak in my next letter to President. In this same 
 century, were born Leonardo da Vinci, Michael An- 
 gelo, Fra Bartollommeo, and Andrea del Sarto. Da 
 Vinci was a man of varied and brilliant talents, being 
 at the time, painter, mathematician, poet, and archi- 
 tect. Painting, however, was his favorite pursuit, and 
 his father placed him in care of a master to receive in- 
 struction in this art. His master was painting a bap- 
 tism of Christ, and he put his pupil to work on the 
 same ; but the pupil so far surpassed the master, that 
 the latter threw down his brush never again to resume 
 it. Leonardo went into society, lived sumptuously, 
 wrote and studied various topics; but yet his reputa- 
 tion as an artist became widespread. One day, a 
 peasant brought him a broad slab from a large fig tree, 
 with the request that he should paint something on it. 
 The artist collected together a number of serpents, 
 lizards, and other frightful denizens of the forest, and 
 
LETTER TWENTY-TWO. 233 
 
 from these made something so horrible, that, when his 
 father was called to look at the completed picture, he 
 fled from it in affright. This was sold for one hun- 
 dred dollars to a merchant, who, shortly afterwards, 
 received for it three times that sum from the Duke of 
 Milan. 
 
 To this same duke Leonardo applied for employment, 
 and, about 1487, became attached to his court at Milan. 
 He greatly enjoyed the gayety of his life here, but his 
 time was so divided that he accomplished no celebrated 
 Avork till he was ordered to execute the " Last Supper." 
 This is his masterpiece, but is now in gtich a mutilated 
 condition as to justify all that Mark Twain says of it. 
 
 But reverses came to the once wealthy duke, and Da 
 Vinci was reduced to poverty. He came to Florence, 
 and learned to live on a moderate pension ; but, later 
 in life, he went to Rome, where Leo X. at first treated 
 him with favor ; but afterwards criticised some of his 
 productions so as to offend the sensitive artist. He 
 then left Rome, and went to Paris, where he is said to 
 have died in the arms of Francis I. During his stay 
 in Florence, there arose a rivalry between himself and 
 Michael Angelo, who was twenty years his junior. 
 They were jointly employed to decorate the walls of 
 the Palazzo Yecchio, and the great emulation between 
 them resulted in something near akin to hatred. 
 Neither, however, went further than to prepare the 
 cartoons of his proposed work, so no one can tell to 
 which the palm would have been allotted. 
 
 Of Michael Angelo's genius, you, of course, do not 
 
234 MICHAEL ANGELO. 
 
 need to be told. At the age of thirteen he began to 
 take lessons from Ghirlandajo, and, like Da Yinci, soon 
 aroused the Jealousy of his master. He, one day, took 
 the liberty to correct one of Ghirlandajo's models, and 
 was ever after debarred from the privilege of copying 
 them. About this time he attracted the attention of 
 the noted Lorenzo de Medici, Duke of Florence, who 
 allowed him to study the treasures of his own art col- 
 lection. He now made friends of some stone masons, 
 and, with marble and tools furnished by them, he made 
 his first attempt at sculpture. His success was such as 
 to induce the Duke to take him into his own palace, 
 and there foster his youthful genius. The assent of 
 his father to this arrangement was reluctantly given ; 
 for he wished Michael to be a scholar, and not an 
 artist. 
 
 After the death of Lorenzo came a season of politi- 
 cal troubles to the refined Florence, during which 
 Angelo fled to Venice. There he met the head of the 
 house of Bologna, who invited him to this city, and 
 gave him a year's work. 
 
 His first work, after returning to Florence, was a 
 sleeping Cupid, which he was advised to palm off 
 as an antique unearthed somewhere. He sold it, 
 it, thus, for thirty dollars; but afterwards, the pur- 
 chaser, a Roman cardinal, detected the fraud, and it 
 also came out that Angelo had been cheated. His 
 "Cupid" had been sold by an agent, who sent the 
 artist only thirty dollars out of the two hundred given 
 him by the cardinal. 
 
LETTER TWENTY-TWO. 235 
 
 At the age of twenty-four, he was pronounced the 
 first master of the world, and the " Dead Savior,*' by 
 which he then acquired this distinction is in St. Peter's 
 at Rome. His celebrated " David," a statue weighing 
 eighteen thousand pounds, was finished in 1504, when 
 he was only twenty-nine. 
 
 It was shortly after this his rivalry with Da Vinci 
 began ; for, as he was already leading sculptor, he 
 wished also to measure his powers as painter. As I 
 said before, neither went farther than to prepare car- 
 toons ; but Angelo continued longer at this work and 
 thus got the best of it. 
 
 Pope Julius n. sent for him in 1505 to make for 
 him a tomb, which was begun with favorable auspices. 
 The Pope visited his studio daily, and everything prom- 
 ised well, when some envious artist persuaded " His 
 Holiness," that to build his tomb in his lifetime was 
 a bad omen. This led him to regret his contract, so 
 one day he refused to see the artist whom he had 
 hitherto received at any time; whereupon the latter 
 mounted his horse and at once left Rome. The Pope 
 tried to induce him to return ; but he stoutly refused , 
 and the former had no right to compel a Florentine to 
 do anything. 
 
 But Kate says it is ten o'clock, and I must finish the 
 subject some other time. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
236 FLORENCE. 
 
 LETTER XXni. 
 
 Florence, Italy, November 29, 1875. 
 Dear Little Sister: 
 
 fHIS is Monday morning again, and this fact re- 
 minds me of the way in which I spent last Monday. 
 That was St. Cecelia's day, a fest in the Catholic 
 church, and, as St. Cecelia was a noted musician, they 
 always have, on her day, fine music in the churches. 
 I had already been to several of the fine churches, to 
 see the tombs, or the frescoes; but the St. Annunzi- 
 ata we had never visited, though it was said to be the 
 most highly ornamented in the city. Every church I 
 have seen in Florence is built in the form of a Eoman 
 cross. The long part of the arm is called the nave, 
 which generally has a row of pillars on each side, cut- 
 ting off aisles to the right and left. The projecting 
 parts of the short arm of the cross are called the 
 transepts ; and, in the remaining end of the long arm 
 is placed the choir, that is, the largest, handsomest 
 altar, before which high mass is celebrated, also the 
 grand organ around which the players on other instru- 
 ments sit. Over this choir is biiilt the dome. On both 
 sides of the nave, and also along the transepts and 
 behind the choir, are smaller altars, on which are long 
 
LETTEE TWENTY-THREE. 237 
 
 candles, alternating with bunches of gay paper flowers. 
 Over each altar is some picture or image of the Virgin 
 Mary with the Infant Savior in her lap ; or of Christ 
 crucified, with the crown of thorns on his head, and 
 the blood flowing from brow, hands, feet and side. 
 Between these altars are usually tombs of distinguished 
 Florentines. In Santa Croce is buried the great art- 
 ist, Michael Angelo; the distinguished poet, Alfieri ; 
 and the wonderful astronomer, Gallileo. Some of 
 these tombs are marked only by a plain slab of mar- 
 ble set in the wall, and engraved with the name and 
 date ; others have busts of those whose ashes lie be- 
 neath ; still others, large handsome sarcophagi with typ- 
 ical gi'oups of statutary. For instance, over Michael 
 Angelo are figures representing Poetry, Painting, 
 and Architecture. Poetry holds a pen, but her deep 
 dejection has crushed out each inspiring thought ; 
 Painting is about to throw aside her brushes in despair ; 
 Architecture, or Sculpture, looks listlessly upon the 
 compass and chisel in her hand, as if their work were 
 ended. 
 
 But I was going to tell you about St. Annunziata. 
 As we first entered, the dazzling effect of highly col- 
 ored pictures and gilded altars, together with the sub- 
 limity of the music, absorbed the whole attention ; 
 but soon I became interested in the worshipers kneel- 
 ino; at the different shrines. One old man took his 
 place directly in front of me. He was stoop-shoul- 
 dered, fat, and had an immense nose deeply pitted with 
 
238 THE CHURCHES. 
 
 small-pox. He was dressed in a long, rusty-brown, 
 cloak-like coat, with a cape to match, a pair of shuffling 
 slippers, and a skull cap, that is, a rimless cap fitting 
 as tight as the skin. He had a hat in his hand, which 
 he carefully placed on the floor, then, with trembling 
 hand, made the sisjn of the cross, and bent his stiff knees 
 in devotion before a crucifix. He took out his string of 
 beads, and then, moving his lips as rapidly as possi- 
 ble, began to repeat his prayers. When some half 
 dozen of his beads were counted off, he grew too tired 
 to endure it longer. He rose and climbed up on the 
 bench, and still on his knees, continued to move his 
 palsied lips. Two or three more beads passed through 
 his fingers and he w^as again wearied. He tried stand- 
 ing awhile, then kneeling again, and thus shifting his 
 position every few minutes, he managed to get around 
 the whole string of beads, when, with one last bow to 
 the crucifix, he took his departure. 
 
 The other afternoon we were in Santa Spirito when 
 three children, the oldest about thirteen, came in. 
 The oldest crossed herself, and her little five year old 
 sister, with mock solemnity, imitated her example, 
 when they all three knelt down before the high altar. 
 In two seconds their prayers were ended, when they 
 arose, started towards the door, then turned and knelt 
 once more flat upon the marble floor. The little one, 
 watching the others out of the corners of her eyes, 
 did just as they did. They finally stopped at the font 
 of holy water, which was too high for the little one to 
 
LETTER TWENTY-THREE. 239 
 
 reach. The largest one dipped her hand into the bowl, 
 the little one rubbed her fingers on the wet hand, and 
 she too was purified. These Catholics seem to me 
 very strange creatures. I saw one at St. Annunziata 
 kiss devoutly the altar cloth on the spots where the priest 
 had spread his hands during mass. You know what 
 mass is, do you not? It is the ceremony by which the 
 priests claim that the bread and wine are changed into 
 the real hody and blood of Christ. You know we take 
 the bread and wine in memory of our Savior; but 
 they think by their Latin prayer they change the 
 nature of the substance. This is called transuhstan- 
 tiation — a big word, but you can probably remember 
 it now. 
 
 You say you are uneasy about me and Kate, and 
 that you are lonely without me. You think it is a long 
 time till next June. Time always seems long when 
 looking forward to something we want very much. 
 Maybe, one of these days I can have you with me. 
 You must not feel that I have done wrong in leaving 
 you ; for I felt it was my duty to make use of my 
 opportunities. Write to me again very soon. 
 
 " Sis." 
 
240 FLORENCE. 
 
 LETTER XXrV. 
 
 Florence, November 29, 1875. 
 Dear Brother Rick: 
 
 S[^\0 you think I have failed to appreciate your 
 (^^ long-expected letter, and that I am altogether 
 ungrateful for your kindness in sending me such a 
 bundle of news ? I trust your love of justice has pre- 
 vented you from rendering such a decision without 
 hearing any witness on my side of the question. True, 
 the three weeks which have passed since receiving 
 those tokens of your thoughtful regard, testify rather 
 loudly against me; but listen, now, while I plead my 
 own cause. But, let me see, what is there in your let- 
 ter requiring an answer? 
 
 You ask for further account of Miss Schuster's 
 courtship, but there is nothing to tell Just now. It has 
 been nearly two months since I left Dresden, and only 
 two weeks ago I wrote to her for the first time. I'll 
 let you know, if ever I get an answer. I received a 
 letter from Mr. Eudolph to-day, in which was enclosed 
 one I had sent him for criticism. It is marked on 
 every page, but I do not feel discouraged. German 
 is not to be learned in a day, and all agree in saying I 
 have made unusual progress for the time I have studied. 
 
LETTER TWENTY-FOUR. 241 
 
 I like to compose in German, and hope through the 
 combined aid of Mr. R. and my new teacher to acquire 
 an easy, natural and correct style. My present in- 
 structress is a Polish lady, and, as is common with her 
 nationality, she has a special forte for language. She 
 comes four times a week, twice for French, and twice 
 for German. My French grammar has all its rules 
 and notes written in German, so there is not a word of 
 English in it. I am nearly through the grammar, 
 ready to practice reading and conversation. French 
 is quite easy, except the pronunciation, and my 
 teacher pushes me all the time. She wants me to 
 advance as far in French under her instruction as in 
 German under the instruction of Prof. Eudolph. 
 This, together with letter-writing and sight-seeing 
 keeps me quite busy. The other ladies in the pension 
 spend their evenings together in the drawing-room, 
 but Kate and I usually remain in our own cozy cham- 
 ber, reading or writing. This excites the curiosity 
 of the rest, and leads them into surmises most amus- 
 ing to ourselves. 
 
 A little incident which occurred two or three weeks 
 since, first gave rise to these surmises. The " coffee- 
 pot woman " knocked on my door one morning, and, 
 as I bade her come in, she opened it. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, " I thought this was Mad- 
 am R.'s room," and turned to go; but she caught 
 sight of my unabridged dictionary, and paused with 
 sudden amazement. 
 
 "What is that?" and the expression of her face 
 
 16 
 
242 THE BIG BOOK. 
 
 agreed with the emphasis in her voice, ** What do 
 you want with such a big family Bible? " 
 
 I laughed, and explained the nature of the work. 
 
 "A dictionary! And you brought that all the way 
 from America! I never saw such a big book! Are 
 you not sorry you brought it? " 
 
 I had to make some satisfactory excuse, so I told 
 her that in writing for publication it was necessary to 
 have such a volume for reference. 
 
 "Ah I so?" she said, and, for once, she found her- 
 self speechless. 
 
 A few days after, at luncheon, there came a discus- 
 sion over some word which Signor Martinucci claimed 
 to be English, but which no one else had ever seen. 
 '■^Flotsatn" was the word. To settle the dispute, I 
 brought in my " family Bible." A murmur of sur- 
 prise ran all round the table at sight of the ponderous 
 volume. After Mr. Webster had asserted his author- 
 ity in favor of Signor M., I withdrew, and I do not 
 doubt my reason for carrying the big book was then 
 communicated by the little woman. I loaned Signor 
 M. my copy of Popular Science Monthly, and he 
 returned it with high praise of its contents, 
 
 "Are you connected with the magazine? " he asked 
 of Kate. 
 
 The idea of our writing for such a journal as that 
 is quite absurd; but this impression is due to our stu- 
 dious habits, and to the presence of the dictionary. 
 This week we had some new arrivals, who are blessed 
 with an unusual amount of curiosity and blarney. The 
 first day after they came I was in the drawing-ro-om. 
 
LETTER TWENTT-FOUR. 243 
 
 and although I was busily engaged in conning my les- 
 son, one of them began to catechise me. 
 
 "Are there many English in this house?" was her 
 opening query. 
 
 *' Yes, nearly all are English," I answered briefly. 
 - " Don't you think the English are very stiff in their 
 manners?" she continued. 
 
 " I have not been in England, so I could not say," 
 was my reply. 
 
 "But," she persisted, " you have met many English; 
 now, tell me the truth." 
 
 " Why, you are English, are you not? " I asked; 
 for I knew she only wanted to get me to say something 
 she could repeat. 
 
 " Well, well, you know they are stiff and conceited, 
 and not very clever at that — of course, I mean the 
 women," she rejoined. "For my part, I like the 
 Americans. What part of America are you from?" 
 
 I told her the name of my native State, and then 
 she wanted to know whether it was a Southern or a 
 Northern division. 
 
 "It's a Western State," T answered, "but a good 
 many miles south of New York." 
 
 "But I mean was it with the North or the South 
 during the war ? ' ' 
 
 "About half went one way and half the other," was 
 my evasive reply, for I saw she was only quizzing me. 
 
 " But which side were you for? " 
 
 " I was too young to take sides; but, as my father 
 owned slaves, my interests were with the South." 
 
 ** Oh I yes," she said, " and those Southern families 
 
244 STRANGE PEOPLE. 
 
 are the best in the United States I They have the 
 bluest blood I They know how to be polite and agree- 
 able ? I knew you were an American as soon as I came 
 into the room." 
 
 It was in order to know whether to praise the North 
 or the South that she questioned me so closely. 
 
 " I don't find so many Americans traveling this 
 year as usual; why is that? " was her next query. 
 
 " Because money is too scarce. Our people have 
 been too extravagant, and now they are suffering for 
 it." 
 
 *' Well, then," she said, " those whom we meet this 
 season will be more select. Only the most distin- 
 guished can come abroad now, I suppose," and she 
 looked at me with an affectation of special deference. 
 
 This was a little too much, so I got rid of her by 
 beginning anew my interrupted lesson; but, next day, 
 I was again in the parlor, and again they Joined me. 
 This time the sister began : — 
 
 "Always busy ! always busy ! I dare say there will 
 soon appear a work on Florence, as a result of your 
 continual writing." 
 
 " Oh ! yes," I answered lightly ; " you'll be going 
 to the library for that instead of Ruskin." 
 
 " You must tell me your name," she said, '* so that 
 I will recognize it when I see it in print. But you'll 
 probably send me a copy with the compliments of the 
 author." 
 
 " To be sure I To be sure I " was my only response. 
 
 *' Why was the American flag hung out at your 
 
LETTER TAVENTY-rOUR. 245 
 
 consul's yesterday?" she inquired, after a few min- 
 utes. 
 
 I explained that it was in honor of " Thanksgiving 
 Day " at home. 
 
 ' ' I suppose you carry a little flag with you all the 
 time ; do you not ? " 
 
 I laughed at the absurdity of this idea, when she 
 said she had known an American lady who did so, and 
 who, in traveling, always used a small one for a 
 pocket handkerchief. 
 
 " It is a beautiful flag ! " she went on to say. 
 
 " Do you think they will return Grant at the next 
 election as President? " 
 
 " No, Ihope not," was ray reply. " We have better 
 men in our country." 
 
 ' ' Do you have a vote ? ' ' 
 
 I told her I had not, and did not want any, when she 
 explained : — 
 
 " I thought perhaps, being an authoress you might 
 have that privilege." 
 
 This was almost too much for my gravity; but I 
 saw she had been making inquiries about us, and I de- 
 termined not to let her know how correct were the sur- 
 mises of our fellow-boarders. 
 
 " I have never proclaimed myself an authoress," 
 was my equivocal response, leaving her curiosity as 
 much unsatisfied as ever. 
 
 I think they are Irish, as they give proof of long 
 proximity to the ♦< blarney-stone." One of them says 
 she always has such profound respect for American 
 
246 " MRS. BLAENET.'* 
 
 intellect, that she supposes them capable of anything. 
 She'll find me capable of eluding all her attempts to 
 find out anything about me. 
 
 There is, in the house, a German youth, a boy pos- 
 sessed of modest good sense inherited from his mother, 
 who is here with him. *'Mrs. Blarney" said to 
 him : — 
 
 *' One can find instruction in music anywhere in 
 Germany ; for the very soul of music is in every one 
 of your people ; now, isn't it? " 
 
 The boy made her a sensible reply to the effect that 
 this could not be affirmed so broadly; but that, in al- 
 most every German town, there are good facilities for 
 the study of music. She was evidently disappointed 
 that Karl took none of the compliment to himself. 
 
 One of the Miss Frodshams rebuffed her, accord- 
 ing to her merits, the other day. Mrs. F. and her 
 three daughters are very plain, unassuming people, 
 quite wise enough to measure their own talents and 
 accomplishments. *' Mrs. Blarney " (I don't know 
 the creature's name) was playing, and at the conclu- 
 sion of her piece, she asked Mrs. F. to take her place 
 at the piano. 
 
 *' I do not know a note," said Mrs. F. 
 
 "But your daughter is an exquisite performer," 
 was the flatterer's reply. 
 
 ' ' That she is not ! ' ' answered the young lady her- 
 self, in a tone which showed her sincerity and her 
 disgust. 
 
LETTER TWENTY-FIVE. 247 
 
 The truth is, she plays only moderately well ; no 
 one could truthfully call her playing exquisite, so she 
 considered it rather an insult to be thus praised. 
 
 You may call this a continuation of my last week's 
 gossip to President. It is very amusing to encounter 
 daily such variety of character, and I like to describe 
 them for the pleasure of recalling them hereafter. 
 Madam Runge has just now' come in, and wants us to 
 go with her to the Waldensian church, to hear Prof. 
 °Cumba on the subject of judicial oaths. He is to 
 speak in Italian ; but I can at least see the people, and 
 I may be able to get a few ideas. We hear often from 
 Vachel, and his prospects for improvement seem very 
 satisfactory. Kate's health is much improved. Write 
 me another good, newsy letter, in answer to this one. 
 
 EXJDOKA. 
 
 LETTER XXV, 
 
 Florence, Italy, December 1, 1875. 
 Dear Brother Graham : 
 
 JIC^ HAVE chosen for my theme this week one of the 
 ^ innumerable monuments of Florentine history. 
 One can not walk a square iu this Tuscan capital without 
 coming upon some building made sacred by association 
 
248 THE MONASTRY. 
 
 with past struggles for freedom. But few, how- 
 ever, posess a higer degree of this peculiar interest 
 thao the Monastry of San Marco. Founded in 1290, it 
 witnessed the banishment of the liberty-loving Dante, 
 and gradual rise of despotic Medici ; it sheltered for a 
 time the ardent, purity-preaching Savonarola, through 
 whose influence Florence received a taste of republic- 
 anism; it stands now with its inscription, " i^^oreu- 
 tine Museum of 8 an Marco, ''^ as proof that under 
 Yictor Emanuel convents are to become rare curiosi- 
 ties. One franc opened for us the door over which 
 this was written, and we passed the threshold, pressed 
 for centuries by the bare feet of monks going forth to 
 beg their daily bread, or returning laden with the 
 results of their petitions. I wonder at what these 
 poor beggars looked as they were entering, or 
 upon what their last glance lingered as they were 
 departing. For my part, I saw first the bright green 
 grass, covering the large square inclosed by the clois- 
 ters, and from this raised my eyes to the soft blue of 
 an Italian sky. No one could draw from this source 
 the aspiration needed for a life of seclusion and auster- 
 ity ; I think a frequent contemplation of this little 
 glimpse of the beautiful world would have made their 
 confinement unendurable. 
 
 '* St. Dominick at the foot of the cross, looking up 
 with deepest grief at the suffering Savior, by Fra. 
 Angelico," read Kate from our guide-book. We were 
 at one corner of a colonnade which extends around the 
 whole square, and on the wall just opposite appeared 
 
LETTER TWENTY-FIVE. 249 
 
 the fresco thus described. There he knelt, the founder 
 of the order, and in his face was .not only grief, but also 
 a longing to share the sufferings which he witnessed. 
 In ,the lunette opposite another pair of pillars, is the 
 consummation of this longing ; for there the saint holds 
 in his hand a cat-o-nine with which to lay many a 
 heavy stroke upon his bare shoulders. Quite near him 
 is St. Peter Martyr with the blood flowing from his 
 brow, as if, he too, had worn a crown of thorns; and 
 the finger pressed upon his lip forbids any cry of pain, 
 though the knife of the executioner is being thrust to 
 his heart. By fixing such scenes as these upon their 
 minds must the former inmates of the monastery have 
 reconciled themselves to their lot of voluntary priva- 
 tion and discomfort. 
 
 Passing on around the square till the second corner 
 was reached we entered the large refectory, where the 
 monks were sent to partake of their frugal meals. 
 An appropriate fresco adorns the plastered wall at one 
 end of the apartment. It represents a number of the 
 brethren around a long table on which no food is to 
 be seen. St. Dominick is the central figure, whose 
 attitude is that of prayer. While his eyes are still 
 closed and his hands still raised in supplication, two 
 youths in shining garments appear, bringing the loaves 
 and wine for which the brethren had that day begged 
 in vain. This miracle is said to have been really 
 wrought by St. Dominick, and doubtless with this pict- 
 ure ever before them, the monks learned to trust to 
 Providence for their sustenance. 
 
250 CHAPTEE-HOUSE. 
 
 The next door led into the chapter-house, where 
 we found ourselves in the presence of one of Fra 
 Angelico's grandest compositions. This pious man is 
 said to have always begun a picture with prayer, and 
 never to have changed the design, because he believed 
 ■the conception had been given him by a higher power. 
 Perhaps that is why there is so much spiritual beauty 
 in the faces produced by his brush. This picture in 
 the chapter-house is a crucifixion and all the figures are 
 life size. The thief on the left, seems in the very act 
 of uttering his words of satanic scorn, while around 
 the head of him on the right is a delicate halo, indica- 
 tion of the honor he is to share. At the foot of the 
 cross the Virgin is just fainting into the arms of the 
 two Marys and the beloved John. On the left, are 
 John the Baptist, St. Mark, St. Lawrence; on the 
 right is a grand array of the fathers of the church. 
 I leave the anachronisms to be reconciled by the one 
 who can; but after having studied the big-headed, 
 long-limbed, stiff jointed subjects of Cimabue, one 
 must be charmed with the grace, dignity and symme- 
 try of every robed priest and weeping Mary. We 
 looked long at the host of saints i and left with a very 
 favorable impression of their characters. If Fra 
 Angelico has not flattered them by making their faces 
 a mirror of his own soul, they were surely men in 
 whom religious fervor had the ascendancy over every 
 other emotion. 
 
 Climbing now a broad stairway, we found ourselves 
 at the entrance to along corridor, on each side of which 
 
LETTER TWENTY-FIVE. 251 
 
 are the cells formerly occupied by the monks, but now 
 inhabited only by the creatures of Fra Angelico's 
 genius. These little rooms are about seven feet by 
 six, and are each lighted by a single window not much 
 larger than those in the prison of Chillon. The floors 
 are all of brick, from which the cold penetrated my 
 thick boots. How could those poor barefooted monks 
 endure a Florentine winter without fire or carpets ! 
 But each cell is redeemed from utter cheerlessness by 
 the gleaming wings of an announcing angel, the glori- 
 ous light of a Transfiguration, or the gladdening view 
 of an Ascension. The Annunciation is Angelico's 
 favorite theme, and the beauty with which he renders it 
 is marvelous. In one of them, especially, the angel 
 looks as if he were indeed the bearer of a message in- 
 to whose mystery he desires to look, while Mary, a 
 young and simple maiden, seems overcome with awe 
 and wonder. You may have seen copies of this artist's 
 angels, for they are being continually reproduced and 
 sent to various parts of the globe. 
 
 The southern corridor has cells on only one side, and 
 to these the novices used to be assigned, where they 
 could be under the immediate care of the Prior. His 
 room opens out in the hall at the far end, just as the 
 teachers' rooms at Hocker, and was so constructed 
 for a similar purpose. The young brethren under his 
 charge sometimes became refractory, and as a punish- 
 ment they were not unfrequently tied for hours to 
 a long bench furnished with rings for the adjustment 
 of cords. Not a bad idea, but perhaps plenty of 
 
252 ROOM OF THE PRIOR. 
 
 work to do would have been a better cure. We only 
 peeped into the tiny cells of the novices, and then 
 hastened on to that of the Prior. Over this door a 
 marble slab makes known the fact that Leo X., visited 
 this chamber in 1516, and, in honor of Savonarola, 
 promised a ten years' indulgence to any one who 
 should pay a similar visit. We went in at once, and if 
 Leo X.'s authority over Savanarola's surplus store of 
 grace still exists, we may indulge, for the next ten 
 years, in any kind of wickedness, without fear of con- 
 sequences. I must admit, however, it was not faith 
 in papal promises which led us into the recesses of 
 the innermost cell ; it was that more unwavering prin- 
 ciple, curiosity. We wished to see the" long-treasured 
 relics of the celebrated, despised, persecuted, and 
 finally condemned Savanarola. His hair-shirt, his 
 rosary, several sermons in his own neat hand writing, 
 books with notes on the margin, and a bit of wood from 
 the pile used at his execution, are all preserved in a 
 glass case. Beneath this case is his chair, almost fall- 
 ing to pieces with age. Two or three of the party sat 
 down in the chair, but I didn't risk it; for I didn't 
 want the trouble of ransacking all the antiquity shops 
 in the city, for the purpose of finding another to re- 
 place it. There are no frescoes in this room, but on 
 the wall hangs a strikingly life like portrait of this great 
 martyr to the love of liberty and purity. The paint- 
 ings are by Fra Bartollommeo, over whose life Savana- 
 rola had such an influence, that, after their acquaintance, 
 
LETTER TWENTY-SIX. 253 
 
 the artist destroyed all the works of his previous life, 
 because they were taken from profane subjects. 
 
 In the adjoining room is an attempt at portraying the 
 scene on the twenty-ninth of May, 1498, as Savanarola 
 and his two companions were led forth and bound to 
 the stake in the center of Piazza Signoria. With the 
 glad thought that the struggles and death of such men 
 have not been in vain, but have at last wrought out 
 the freedom of Italy, we retraced our steps to the 
 entrance door. 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
 LETTER XXYl. 
 
 Florence, December 5, 1875. 
 Dear Brother South : 
 
 OUR last letter reached me Just one week ago, 
 af teT I had been several days anxiously expecting 
 its arrival. I am now in the drawing room, in the 
 midst of a chatting company. I don't know how I am 
 to succeed in writing under such circumstances ; but, 
 perhaps I can concentrate my thoughts on you. 
 Madam B,. has a German caller, and, as they are sit- 
 ting near me, I feel quite tempted to listen to what 
 they are saying in that fascinating tongue. Mr. L., a 
 yoting, black- haired, blue- eyed Englishman is over by 
 
254 TLORENCE. 
 
 the stove; and, ever and anon, he addresses some 
 remarks to Miss Skey, a very stiff, proper young lady, 
 whose nearness to the fire yet fails to thaw her into 
 graceful flexibility. Kate and I had yesterday quite 
 an animated discussion with Miss Latimer, in regard 
 to American manners and customs. I told her that a 
 young gentleman might xjall on me once a week for a 
 year, and might spend with me at each call an hour in 
 conversation, and yet neither of us ever think of being 
 anything more than friends. She was much surprised 
 at this; for, she says English girls never get an 
 opportunity to associate in that way with gentlemen ; 
 their mothers must always be present at such calls, 
 and it is taken for granted that the gentleman has 
 matrimonial intentions. 
 
 Miss S. is not to blame then, if, in common with her 
 English sisters, she is stiff and proper. They have no 
 opportunity to cultivate ease of manner in presence of 
 young gentlemen. 
 
 There is also in the room, a little girl seven years 
 old, who is here at Florence in a boarding-school. 
 She spent last year in France, where she learned to 
 speak the language fluently, and she is now prosecuting 
 Italian. She is the daughter of the " Coffee-pot 
 woman," and seems almost as mature as her mother. 
 She says she doesn't let any of her schoolmates know 
 she is English, for she wants them to talk to her only 
 in French. Her ma intends her to learn all the Euro- 
 pean tongues by the time she is fourteen. Just now, 
 she seems to have very good command of English, as 
 
LETTER TWENTY-SIX, 255 
 
 she is counting aloud for the benefit of Miss Skey. 
 You see now, under what distracting circumstances I 
 am trying to write ; but I iuust sit here to save the 
 expense of a fire in our room. Wood is very dear in 
 Italy, yet the constant rain for a week past renders it 
 quite disagreeable both in doors and out. In a letter 
 received to-day, one of Kate's friends says: ■ — 
 
 " I envy you your sojourn in sunny Italy.'* 
 
 This seems rather a burlesque, as we haven't seen 
 the sun for six days, and there is now no prospect of 
 his appearance. Moreover, they say, it is no new 
 trick for the soft sky to thus veil itself in clouds dur- 
 ing the fall. I say during the fall, but this is really 
 winter — December, almost Christmas It is just six 
 months to-day, since the Elysia started with us across 
 the ocean, and I must admit the six months was longer 
 in anticipation than in reality. 
 
 You spoke in your letter of investing in Hocker 
 College stock. If you do, I shall expect you to use 
 your influence to give me a good salary as teacher of 
 mathematics and languages. The school would never 
 seem the same to me, though, without President Gra- 
 ham at the head of affairs. But into whatever hands 
 it may fall, I wish to my " Alma Mater " the greatest 
 prosperity. 
 
 In my last I £jave you a little talk about Italian 
 painters. In my letter to President I have spoken of 
 the works of Era Angelico. Perhaps you would like 
 to know more of his history. He was born in 1387, at 
 Fiesole, a town on one of the hills overlooking 
 
256 FRA ANGFXICO. 
 
 Florence. At the age of ten, he entered a Dominican 
 convent, where he received the name of Giovanni 
 (John), instead of his real name Guido. He won the 
 title " Angelic" from the simple piety of his life, and 
 from the supernatural beauty of the winged messenger 
 in his picture of the Annunciation. At the age of 
 forty-nine, he came to Florence with the rest of his 
 brotherhood, who took up their residence at San 
 Marco. This convent had belonged to the Sylvestrine 
 monks ; but for their immorality, they were deprived 
 of their home, which was given to the Dominicans. 
 San Marco was in need of repair, so Cosimo de 
 Medici employed Michelozzi as architect, and Angelico 
 as frescoer. He loved best to portray religious senti- 
 ment; indeed, there was so little of evil in his own 
 nature, that he has generally failed to render vicious 
 characters true to nature. He has painted a " Last 
 Judgment," in which are a number of figures; those 
 on the right of the judge seem filled with happiness ; 
 those on the left are wretchedness personified. Many 
 popes, monks, and priests are on the right, and a few 
 of the same classes on the left. One young lady in 
 our boarding-house, when noticing this, said : — 
 
 " I'm glad that at least a few of these professional 
 hypocrites are to reap their reward." 
 
 Of course, she is one of the " heretical Protestants," 
 who, in the present subjection of the Pope, make bold 
 to express their opinions right here in the home of 
 Catholicism. 
 
 There were many things of interest in San Marco, 
 
LETTER TWENTY-SIX. 257 
 
 besides those I found space to mention in the Times. 
 In one cell was a framed list of the most prominent 
 among the former inmates of the monastery. Among 
 these is the name of Savonarola, and so many times 
 has it been k' jJ by his admirers that by the friction 
 of their lips it is well nigh obliterated. 
 
 In a long room on the north of the cloisters is an 
 array of four hundred banners of the different States 
 of Italy. They are all of the finest silk, and of bright- 
 est hues. These standards were used in a procession 
 on the sixth hundredth anniversary of Dante's birth- 
 day. The king of Italy headed the procession, and all 
 the people rejoiced in the consummation of the poet's 
 ardent desire for the freeing of Italy from a foreign 
 yoke. That was in 1865. The banners of Venice 
 were then draped in mourning for the liberty which 
 that State has now regained. A bust of Dante occupies 
 the far end of the hall, and one can but wish that his 
 sad countenance could be brightened up by understand- 
 ing the significance of the surroundino- scene. He 
 died in exile, and his bones rest in a foreign city, but 
 his life was not in vain. He gave a fixed form to 
 the Italian language, and thus opened for them a 
 means of communication with other and free nations. 
 Besides this, he breathed into his works such a spirit 
 of patriotism that it is imbibed by his every reader. 
 
 Adjoining this hall is a large library, which opens 
 into a kind of secret chamber where were formerly 
 locked up volumes forbidden by the church. It is 
 accessible now, but a greater part of the six hundred 
 
 17 
 
258 AN OLD LIBRAET. 
 
 books, and many valuable MSS. have been removed 
 elsewhere, so the shelves are almost empty. In glass 
 cases, extending the full length of the room, are 
 exhibited the hymn books recently collected from the 
 suppressed convents in the different parts of Tuscany. 
 They are immense volumes when spread open, about 
 two feet square. They are printed or written in 
 Latin; the notes are square and six times as large as 
 those of the present day. Every page is illuminated 
 at the top and sides with gay-colored pictures, many 
 of them carefully executed. The priors encouraged 
 the nuns in this kind of work, because they found idle- 
 ness very demoralizing. The bindings of what few 
 books appear on the shelves are very forbidding, 
 almost lock enough in themselves to prevent investi- 
 gation of contents. They are of leather very thick and 
 dark with age, and this is protected from wear by 
 short spikes buried in the thick composition of the 
 backs. Indeed, for aught I know, this part may be 
 wood into which the nails are simply driven. I wish 
 you could see these things, for words can give very 
 little conception of what we saw. I have spent no 
 morning more delightfully than that one in San Marco. 
 I think, in my last letter, I mentioned the name of 
 Massaccio. Both in point of time, and in reference to 
 his works, he was nearly half way between Giotto and 
 Raphael. There is little known of his life, except 
 that he died in debt ; but poverty is a frequent atten- 
 dant upon genius. I have been this week to the Car- 
 mine Church, to see some of his finest paintings. One" 
 
LETTEE TWENTY-SIX. 259 
 
 of these is a baptism, in which the subjects go down 
 into the water, and have the water poured upon the 
 head. One has just risen out of the water, and, as he 
 is very slightly clothed, he is shivering with the cold. 
 The thing is so lifelike you can almost hear his teeth 
 chatter. Another scene represents Peter in prison, 
 and Paul standing without, conversing with him. The 
 figure of Paul is so commanding, that Eaphael, one 
 hundred years later, has copied it in his scene of 
 " Paul on Mars Hill." Opposite this, is Peter 
 released from prison by an angel in beautifully flowing 
 garments. Again, Peter before Nero, with a look of 
 scorn upon his face, hears that tyrant pronounce upon 
 him the sentence of death, and seems not to quail, 
 though the fierce executioner has already, with eager- 
 ness, laid hold upon him to lead him forth. Wherever 
 the fiery Apostle appears, he is vested with that dig- 
 nity and force which are consistent with his character. 
 His expression softens into benignity, as he extends a 
 hand to restore the poor cripple at the ''Beautiful 
 Gate of the Temple;" he seems almost awed at his 
 own power as he calls back to life the beloved Tabitha; 
 he shows his impetuosity as be falls into a dispute with 
 the Son of Man himself. Out in the cloisters is a 
 remnant of another of this great master's works. In 
 it is an old monk, sitting in front of his cave, his 
 round face spread into a broad grin. Before him 
 kneels a young brother whose face shows plainly that 
 he is restraining by force of will, a laugh which is 
 shaking his frame. Behind these two was a third com- 
 
260 MASSACCIO. 
 
 ing down a hill, but the poor fellow has been sentenced 
 to capital punishment, and nothing remains of him but 
 his drapery. This much, however, is carefully pre- 
 served, and has been copied hundreds of times; for 
 drapery was this artist's special forte. Cimabue and 
 his school knew no more how to ma,ke folds and full- 
 ness to a dress or rolie than 1 did when I first began to 
 draw on my slate. 
 
 The company has become so noisy I shall have to 
 desist. Write soon again ; it is always a long time 
 from one letter to the next, in however quick succes- 
 sion they may come. Yours truly, 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 
 Florence, December 7, 1875. 
 Dear Brother Vachel: 
 
 f OUGHT to answer your letter, and I ought to 
 make apologies for not having written sooner ; but I 
 want first to tell you how we spent yesterday morning 
 from eleven till one. At the former hour, we pre- 
 sented ourselves for admission at the door of the Egypto- 
 Etruscan museum ; for the consideration of a franc, the 
 gray-haired custodian allowed us to enter; and, for the 
 next two hours, we were amid remnants of the centu- 
 
LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 261 
 
 ries before Christ. In the first two rooms, we found 
 on glass-protected shelves along the walls, specimens 
 of Etruscan pottery, from the rude introduction to the 
 polished perfection of the art. In the beginning, the 
 heat of the sun was the only agent used in the baking 
 of the clay, which process leaves them of a dirty yel- 
 low hue ; but this is succeeded by some method which 
 gives the clay the appearance of ebony. These vessels 
 have all been found in Etruscan vaults, and were prob- 
 ably used at the banquets, which it was then customary 
 to hold in the chambers of the dead. Their ornaments 
 are some simple designs emblematic of immortality. 
 On some of the urns of the ashes for the cremated are 
 heads representing the ghosts of the departed. A 
 kind of circular tray, filled with cups, saucers, bowls, 
 spoons, and other articles of kitchen furniture are sup- 
 posed to have been placed in the tombs of mothers, who 
 during life had to use such articles in ministering to the 
 wants of their families. The jugs are at first of yel- 
 low, sun-baked earth, and without handles ; gradually 
 the material is improved, and one handle after another 
 is added, till the beautifully proportioned Hydria, or 
 water jar, is produced. 
 
 From the pottery-room is the entrance to a tomb 
 constructed in imitation of the old Etruscan vaults. 
 We asked the custodian to show us down ; but he per- 
 suaded us it was only a dark, dirty hole, and as we had 
 only two hours any way, we passed on to the next 
 room. Here, we found vases of Greek origin, 
 adorned with painting instead of reliefs. How old 
 
262 ETRUSCAN MUSEUM. 
 
 these are can not be told ; but their manufacture ceased 
 360 B. C. They were highly prized, as is proved by 
 the fact that they were used as rewards in the Grecian 
 games. The color of these vases is first ashen, or 
 dull brown, with figures painted in black, except the 
 faces of the females, which are white. The finest style, 
 however, has a ground of black with pictures in red. 
 
 In. the next room were toys of various kinds made 
 of terra-cotta. Among these is the head of an old 
 woman who is blind in one eye, deeply wrinkled, and 
 has her mouth open and twisted hideously to one side, 
 thus displaying her single remaining tooth. It is cu- 
 rious to think of these old-time Egyptians as babies to 
 be amused by such oddities. 
 
 In a cabinet beyond is a collection of gold ornaments, 
 the prettiest of which is a pair of gold ear-rings in 
 the form of a lion's head; from the mouth of the lion 
 hangs a tiny basket of filigree work with a dove 
 perched on top. A case of Etruscan coins begins with 
 a bronze piece two inches in diameter and half an inch 
 thick, stamped with the clumsy figure of a wheel ; at 
 the other end of the case are minutely exquisite pieces 
 of o:old. A curious suit of armor moulded so as to 
 exactly fit the body is carefully treasured up. Every 
 rib can be traced. Two bronze statues, one of Minerva, 
 one of an orator, prove that the Etruscans were far 
 advanced in the art of casting in this metal. In the 
 " Hall of the Orator " is a very large stone sarcopha- 
 gus, which was exhumed after an interment of several 
 
LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 263 
 
 centuries. It could not have been made earlier than 
 the time of Alexander the Great, yet it is covered with 
 paintings equal to those of Raphael. The scene is a 
 " Battle of the Amazons." The warrior women seem 
 fitted to make conquests other than those made with the 
 sword and spear, and the manly warriors contending 
 with them seem to feel that this is true. One man has 
 thrown his fair opponent from her noble white steed, 
 and stands over her with spear raised ready to strike the 
 death-blow. She raises her eyes in entreaty, and her 
 hands to ward off the impending stroke ; he is over- 
 come, his face softens with regret at the sight of sor- 
 rowing, supplicating beauty; and I am sure only 
 necessity can again set in hostile motion the relaxing 
 muscles of his uplifted arm. It is wonderful to what 
 perfection the Greeks have carried every department 
 of the Fine Arts; Sculpture, Painting, Architecture, 
 Poetry, all have they, centuries ago, developed to an 
 unrivaled degree. 
 
 I can not even mention a hundreth part of the things 
 we saw ; but an Egytian war chariot I distinctly recall. 
 It is made wholly of wood bound together with 
 thongs of leather. The two wheels are furnished with 
 only four spokes each, placed at right angles to each 
 other. The place on which the charioteer used to stand 
 is made of a semi-circle of wood filled in with plaited 
 straws something like the bottom of a chair. Mum- 
 mies you saw in Dresden, but you haven't seen wheat 
 grown from seed found in mummy-cases. A large sheaf 
 
264 NATIONAL MUSEUM. 
 
 of such wheat is one of the curiosities here. There is 
 also a stone cage some eight feet high, in which the 
 Sacred Hawk of the Egytians was formerly kept. 
 
 We didn't have time to examine the papyri covered 
 with hieroglyphics, nor to study into the designs with 
 which the innumerable stone cippi (boxes for holding 
 the ashes of the dead) are adorned. We paused some- 
 time before a frescoe of the Last Supper, attributed 
 to Raphael. Judas sits alone on the side of the table 
 opposite Christ ; John, a beautiful youth, sits next to 
 the Beloved Master ; Peter is not far off, near enough, 
 indeed, to lean forward and whisper into the ear of 
 John. The hands, from their great variety of posi- 
 tions, and their naturalness of proportions, are the 
 most attractive part of the picture. It is not quite 
 sure that this is the work of Raphael ; but this house 
 was formerly a convent, and, so far as known, he is 
 the only man ever admitted into its sacred precincts. 
 I hope the above details are not altogether too dry for 
 your enjoyment; but I find it quite difficult to repro- 
 duce in words this mute array of witnesses to the cul- 
 tivation of the ancients. 
 
 December 9th. — We have been, to-day, to the Bar- 
 gello, or National Museum, the one of which you spoke 
 in your last. We were quite impressed with the old 
 stone walls, as we viewed them from without, and even 
 more so as we gained access to the inner court and 
 stood under the broad, Roman arches of the surround- 
 ing colonnade. It hasn't the appearance of a prison, 
 but rather of a palace, and such it was till the sixteenth 
 
LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 265 
 
 century. It was built in 1250, for the chief magistrate 
 of Florence; but, in the beginning of the sixteenth 
 century, its large, handsome rooms were divided into 
 prison cells, and from that time till 1865, it covered 
 with its prison walls many a tragic scene. In the cen- 
 ter of the court, is a well around which many a victim 
 has been beheaded, and with whose waters the stains 
 of blood have been washed away. 
 
 In a room on the ground floor, is a collection of 
 armor and weapons, conspicuous among which is a 
 monster cannon bearing the arms of the Medici. The 
 closed end is ornamented by the head of a man more 
 than life size ; his baldness exposes to view such 
 " bumps " as might belong to a philosopher; his well 
 cut features and flowing beard are a fit accompaniment 
 for the broad brow. About half way between tlio ends 
 of the cannon, two lions recline. I never saw so mag- 
 nificent a piece of artillery. Its bore is not so 
 immense as that of old " Mons Meg," at Edinboro 
 Castle, but there is much more metal in its composi- 
 tion. 
 
 By a handsome staircase we ascended to the upper 
 floor. The landing is in what we would call a porch, 
 but what the Italians call " loggia,'^ In this porch are 
 three old bells, not hanging, but resting on broad, thick 
 blocks. One of them was made in Pisa in 1228, and 
 is enjoying " a green old age." A large saloon to the 
 right of this porch is filled with statuary, none of it 
 remarkable, however, except the " Djing Adonis," 
 and a " Victory," by Michael Angelo. Adonis has 
 
266 OLD RELICS. 
 
 been wounded bj a wild boar, and the flesh torn by 
 the tusk of the animal is gaping open and bleeding ; 
 he is supporting his head -with his right hand, but jt 
 begins to droop, and the lips are parted with the ghast- 
 liness of death; in his left hand, is the hunting horn, 
 but you can see the fingers are relaxing their hold 
 upon it. 
 
 * * Victory ' ' represents an old man crushed down by 
 one in the vigor of youth. It is in an unfinished state, 
 and there could be had no better memento of the great 
 sculptor, for he was noted for failing to keep his prom- 
 ises when engaged to perform a certain work. In 
 the Academy of Arts is a Matthew just far enough 
 advanced to make it evident that something in the form 
 of a man is trying to struggle out of the hard marble. 
 This is as far as he progressed in fulfilling a promise 
 to make the ''Twelve Apostles" to adorn a certain 
 building — but I am digressing. 
 
 In the next room were specimens of crystal, porce- 
 lain, and a few old crucifixes brought from some sup- 
 pressed convent. On the walls of one chamber, are 
 dim frescoes by Giotto, among them -a portrait of Dante 
 in his youth. These were covered for years, with 
 white-wash, when some one, an American, I believe, 
 suspected their existence, and induced a wealthy noble- 
 man to undertake the search for them. I do not know, 
 how they manage to remove long accumulations of 
 white-wash without destroying the picture; but it has 
 been done in many instances* with the frescoes of the old 
 masters. This portrait of Dante, if it really be he, is 
 
LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 267 
 
 quite different from any other that I have seen. He 
 looks joyous and content. It must have been painted 
 before the death of his Beatrice. By the way, my 
 German teacher told me, the other day, a little anecdote 
 of Dante. 
 
 One day he was walking the streets of Milan, when 
 he heard a silver smith singing over his work one of 
 the songs of Dante's composition, and so unmercifully 
 did he butcher the words that the idea was entirely 
 destroyed. Dante listened till he could endure it no 
 longer, when he entered the shop, seized some of the 
 smith's finished work, threw it on the floor, and tram- 
 pled it under his feet in a rage. 
 
 "Now," said he, "how do you like to see your 
 work treated in this way? I have just as much right 
 to tear your work to pieces, as you have to abuse mine, 
 for I work as diligently with the brain as you do with 
 the hand." 
 
 The smith, at first furious over the insult offered 
 him by a stranger, now raised his hat, and said: — 
 
 *' I thank you for honoring me with the sight of the 
 greatest man in Italy, and I promise never to repeat 
 this morning's offense." 
 
 But I'll never get through the museum at this rate. 
 We passed hastily through the cabinet of ivory, crystal, 
 and amber, for a glance showed them inferior to the 
 Green Vaults. We found much of interest in the col- 
 lection of bronzes. Donatello's David is a queer look- 
 ing " chap " in point of costume. He has on abroad- 
 brimmed shepherd's hat, which effectually shades his 
 
268 BRONZE ROOM. 
 
 face from the sun ; his feet are carefully shod, and the 
 legs covered nearly to the knees ; the rest of his out- 
 fit is like that of Adam before the fall. This reminded 
 me of Rubens' picture of his wife and child, which I 
 saw at Munich; the little one is sitting on it mother's 
 knee, and the only article of clothing of which it can 
 boast is a hat with a long waving plume. I thought, 
 too, in the s:ime connection, of something a little less 
 classic — of a little negro boy who used to belong to 
 our old friend Mrs. Howard. Bob was his name, I 
 think. I was there one day, when Bob was taking the 
 hot summer weather as coolly as possible — indeed, his 
 bare, ebony limbs were in strong contrast with the 
 one white garment which was his only article of 
 apparel. 
 
 " Bob, you must go to the blackberry-patch to get 
 some berries for the ladies' supper, "called Mrs. H. 
 
 "Yes, Missus," was the reply, " soon's I gits my 
 shoes;" and, sure enough, with only this addition to 
 his toilet. Bob set out to contend with the briers. 
 
 I don't know whether " Sigrnro Donatello " would feel 
 complimented by the vein of thought which his David 
 opened for me ; can't help it, he should have left off the 
 hat and boots, or else furnished him a complete costume. 
 Now, Michael Angelo has his Davdi so prepared that 
 nothmg can restrain the free use of the arm which is to 
 hurl the missile of death ; no clumsy trappings are to 
 hinder his flight, incase Goliah'shead should prove too 
 hard for his pebble and he has no hat to be taken off by 
 the wind thus compelling him to an undignified chase. 
 
LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN". 269 
 
 In fact these sculptors, as a general thing, are more 
 saving of drapery than even the painters of whose econ- 
 omy you have spoken. 
 
 Two reliefs of the " Sacrifice of Isaac " hang-ino; side 
 by side on the opposite wall, are very interesting. They 
 are by Lorenzo Ghiberti and Fillipo Brunnellesco, and 
 were made four centuries ago, as these two workmen 
 were contending for the job of making the Baptistery 
 gates. Ghiberti succeeded, and made such a wonder- 
 ful gate that Michael Angelo pronounced it fit to guard 
 the entrance to Paradise. Knowing this, we were of 
 course prejudiced in favor of G.'s " Sacrifice of Isaac," 
 but I can give real reasons for my preference. In his 
 scene, Isaac meekly presents his throat to the father's 
 knife ; in the other, he is struggling to escape, and the 
 force employed by Abraham seems brutal. G.'s ram 
 is caught in a bush behind Abraham, where he can not 
 see it; B.'s is directly in front of the patriarch. G.'s 
 angel stays the hand of Abraham by his voice and 
 points to the ram; B.'s angel rudely catches hold of 
 the old man's arm, and is not so situated as to point 
 out the substitute. G.'s servants with the ass are 
 behind the mountain; B.'s are where they could see 
 their master, and they would, of course, interfere to 
 prevent the tragedy. But as you have never seen the 
 wonderful gate of the Baptistery, this description is 
 probably more interesting to you than to me. I will 
 now answer your letter. 
 
 You first comment on the amount of money we are 
 spending. Well, be that as it may, we are living 
 
270 FLORENCE. 
 
 cheaper than when in Dresden, where you made all 
 the arrangements. We were advised not to take 
 lodgings in Florence — advised by a disinterested per- 
 son — because to go to a restaurant for meals is not a 
 common thing with young ladies here, and to have our 
 meals brought from a restaurant would cost more than 
 pension. We are very comfortable here, and perfectly 
 free from any evil remarks we might have brought on 
 ourselves by taking apartments alone. The people 
 with whom we meet are a source of much information 
 and improvement. Our life here is quite different 
 from that in Dresden, in that we are thrown into inti- 
 mate association with so many people, and can study 
 human nature on a broader scale. Your object in 
 coming to Europe will have been attained, if you 
 return with a better knowledge of your profession ; 
 our time will have been lost, unless we learn much of 
 the Old World; that is, of its people, for that's what 
 the world is made of. While we were travel! no; 
 through Germany, we often breakfasted and supped 
 for as little as fifteen cents' worth of provision; but 
 Kate doesn't get plump under such frugal treatment. 
 When you join us again, we'll let you run the business 
 for the firm; but for the present, I think our course is 
 the best possible. I am' sorry to spend more than you 
 think we ought, but I see no way to avoid it. When 
 we go to Rome, we shall do as the sojourners in Rome 
 do, and I think they are more in the habit of taking 
 their meals out. 
 
LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 271 
 
 My teacher claims to be delighted with my progress 
 in my studies. To-day, 1 recited the four conjugations 
 in French, and enumerated their points of difference, 
 after which she said; — 
 
 *'A11 that I can say is that it's wonderful.'* 
 
 I see no motive to prompt her to flatter me, so I 
 suppose I am doing at least passably well. I have no 
 classmate with whom to compare progress, so I can 
 only take her word. I do not study, though, as dili- 
 gently as I did in Dresden, for there is much more to 
 be seen in Florence, and much more to read in order 
 to understand what is seen. From now on, I shall 
 take only one German lesson a week, devoting three 
 to French. I have begun to read and relate stories. 
 My teacher is a sweet little woman, and very particu- 
 lar to correct a false accent. I have read more than 
 four hundred pages in my book of German dialogue. 
 Mis& Denneberg, my teacher, likes to hear them read. 
 
 I am glad you find the time so profitable in Vienna, 
 and glad too, that you think of joining us soon. We 
 are quite able to take care of ourselves, but quite will- 
 ing to have your assistance. Let us know when you 
 will meet us, and where — Naples, though, I suppose? 
 We intend to leave January 1st, spend a month in 
 Eome, then go to Naples February 1st. Ten days are 
 enough there. Make out your programme now. Time 
 flies with us ; I suppose it moves at no laggard pace 
 with you. Write us further interesting accounts of 
 Vienna, and believe me, your own sister, 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
272 FLORENCE. 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 Florence, December 12, 1875. 
 My Dear Father and Mother: 
 
 fT is now half past five, and we have just returned 
 from the meeting of the Missionary Society con- 
 nected the American Union Church. It has been but 
 one month since their organization; yet according to 
 this afternoon's report, much good has already been 
 done. Clothing to the amount of one hundred and 
 fifty francs (|30) has been sent in and distributed to 
 those in need, cash to the same amount has been en- 
 trusted to them for charitable purposes, in addition to 
 the fees for membership. With the sum collected 
 to-night, I think about one hundred dollars has been 
 placed in their treasury, as a result of their first 
 month's begging. This only shows how effective a 
 systematic plan of operation maybe. 
 
 After singing "Cast the Bread upon the Waters,'* 
 the pastor introduced to the audience the Rev. Prof. 
 Haine. His hair, eyes, and olive complexion pro- 
 claimed him an Italian ; but as he began to address us, 
 his excellent accent and correct construction of our 
 tongue proved him to have had opportunities of care- 
 ful culture. Our pastor had promised us some infor- 
 
LETTER TWENTY-EIGHT. 273 
 
 Illation on the work of the Waldensians in Italy, and 
 tlie young Professor began by saying he was thankful 
 for the opportunity of telling to Americans the story of 
 his church. In regard to the religious condition of 
 this country, foreigners, he said, are generally ignor- 
 ant. They suppose it to be wholly Catholic, and so 
 blindly devoted to the Pope, that it is not suscep- 
 tible of contrary instruction; hence they devote all 
 their time to visiting museums and galleries, feeling in 
 no wise responsible for the spiritual condition of Italy. 
 For this reason, then, he was glad to be heard in the 
 statement of a few simple facts, which would show 
 that the pure gospel is already beginning to shed 
 abroad its light over the whole land. The Walden- 
 sians are not properly called either Protestants or 
 Reformers, since, in the border mountains between 
 Italy and France, they have existed as a free people 
 centuries before the days of Luther. As far back as 
 history reaches into the Middle Ages have they been 
 separate from the church of Rome ; hence they claim 
 to have been founded by the Apostles themselves. For 
 six hundred years they suffered persecution ; only by 
 fleeing to the mountain-inclosed valley, which has now 
 been their home for many generations, were they able 
 to escape the rigors of the Inquisition. Yet, even 
 during those ages of persecution, they withheld not 
 their hand from sowing the Good Seed. Secretly their 
 ministers traversed the coast of the Mediterranean, 
 teachino; and streno-thenina; the handfuls of converts 
 they had made in the cities and villages on the sea ; 
 
 18 
 
274 THE WALDENSIANS. 
 
 secretly they turned their course northward along the 
 Adriatic to Venice itself. Under the disguise of ped- 
 dlers, colporteurs found access to private families, and 
 along with their trifling wares, left precious volumes 
 of God's Word. But in 1850, the most northern 
 States of Italy became free, and immediately the Wal- 
 densians sent missionaries to the field. 
 
 *' It seems to me," said the speaker, " that we have 
 been providentially kept at the very gate of the papal 
 dominion that we might be ready at once to bring 
 needed help. In 1859, Tuscany too threw off her 
 yoke, and Florence, the very heart of Italy, became 
 open to the once persecuted sect. Previous to this 
 time their school of theology, through the instrumen- 
 tality of Mr. and Mrs. Kevel, had been endowed, the 
 greater part of the fund having been procured in the 
 United States. I think Mr. E,. is dead, but I met Mrs. 
 E. when I visited the school, and also again this after- 
 noon. She has a frank, good face, and appears capa- 
 ble of spending her life for the good of others. 
 It was in 1860, as I said in my letter to Bro. Graham, 
 that the school was transferred from its mountain home 
 to the midst of the soft speaking Tuscans. I have 
 already told you all about this school ; therefore, I shall 
 not repeat what the Professor said under this head. He 
 says there are now forty-two regularly conducted con- 
 gregations connected with the schools of Italy, and, be- 
 sides these, more than that number of points 
 occasionally visited by their ministers. The largest 
 congreffation numbers from two hundred to two hun- 
 
LETTER TWENTY-EIGHT. 275 
 
 dred and fifty; the smallest from fifty to a hundred. 
 Two of these regular congregations are in Florence, 
 and are doing much good. I attended one of them 
 about two weeks since, to hear one of the Professors 
 on the subject of judicial odths. The priests, who go 
 as far as they dare in opposition to the government, 
 teach their ignorant followers that as they know noth. 
 ing of the Bible, it is a fearful sin for them to swear 
 by it. This, of course, causes much trouble when they 
 are summoned as witnesses in court. Prof. Cumbah 
 labored to show that there is no scriptural ground for 
 opposing the taking of the oath. 
 
 Prof. Haine's address throughout was characterized 
 by simplicity and force, and I can believe that he is 
 fired with zeal for the salvation of Italy. He said: — 
 
 ' ' Though only a mountain range separates us from 
 France, our rivers all flow towards Italy, and our 
 hearts are also turned southward. Within a fortnight 
 after Victor Emanuel's troops had entered the gates 
 of Rome, we had a missionary there at work; and, 
 now, from the icy foot of Mont Blanc to the burning 
 foot of iEtna is our influence felt." 
 
 At the close of his remarks he offered an opportunity 
 for those present to purchase a little book giving a full 
 account of the Waldensians. I have one of them, and 
 shall bring it home for you to read. 
 
 I do enjoy the church privileges here, and already 
 reiri'et that the time to leave Florence is so near at 
 hand. Three weeks more and we really must go. 
 But Mrs. Kittridge gave me to-day the number of the 
 
276 FLORENCE. 
 
 American church in Rome, and we shall doubtless find 
 warm hearts there. I have been so happy here; 
 Kate's health has been good ; I have made some pro- 
 gress in French and German ; we have found much to 
 see and learn; friends write me sweet letters from 
 home; cheering news from Vachel comes now and 
 then; there is nothing more to desire except that you, 
 my dear parents, should cease to be uneasy about me. 
 Never mind, when we get home, you will be glad we 
 have enjoyed such opportunities of improvement. I 
 have not learned to think less of my own land; but, 
 on the contrary, we find, each day, new reasons to 
 love it. Don't read so many accounts of shipwrecks ; 
 this is the season for them, as the sea is always stormy 
 in the fall. We are coming home in the summer. 
 Put away with your gloomy forebodings for the sake of 
 Your daughter, 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 Florence, Italy, December 15, 1875. 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 SPENT about five hours on Monday in the Pitti 
 Palace, and had to pay a whole franc for the priv- 
 ilege, too. I might have gone on Sunday, and thus 
 saved my twenty cents; for this kind of economy is 
 
LETTER TWENTY-NINE. 277 
 
 quite fashionable with English and American travelers 
 abroad; but I thought it was worth that much sacrifice 
 to hear a good sermon, to say nothing of the effect 
 which Protestant neglect of the Lord's Day must have 
 upon observant Catholics. 
 
 The Pitti Palace is so named from its founder Luca 
 Pitti, who designed it to rival in magnificence the 
 homes of the Strozzi and Medici. That was in 1441 ; 
 but one hundred years later found it still unfinished, 
 and the proud family of the Pitti too poor to retain it 
 longer in their possession. Thus it came to pass that 
 the despised Medici, against whom Luca had vainly 
 conspired, became owners of his princely edifice; and 
 from that time on it has been the abode ,of succes- 
 sive Tuscan magnates; of the native Medici, so long as 
 they remained in power ; of the Bonaparte Queen dur- 
 ing her brief reign ; of the Austrian Grand Dukes till 
 Italy became free from foreign rule ; and now, when 
 Victor Emanuel pays a visit to his Florentine subjects, 
 he hides himself away in its splendid rooms, not 
 because he cares for the splendor, but because he likes 
 to hide. To be sure, to satisfy the people, he has to 
 give them an occasional reception and play king ; but 
 it is such a bore to him that he invariably nods in his 
 chair before the evening is half over. 
 
 Well, this palace in which Luca Pitti had to conceal 
 his face because he was considered a traitor, and into 
 which Victor Emanuel likes to retreat because he 
 wants to be esteemed as a man, not as a king, is only 
 one short square from No. 28, Via Maggio, where 
 
278 PITTI PALACE. 
 
 I am just this minute shivering over a miserable Italian 
 stove. That word "palace" has a very uncertain 
 sound to an American ear; for with us a house is a 
 house, whether it be one of those tiny vine clad affairs 
 in which love is supposed to dwell, or an elegant brown 
 stone front of which wealth claims the monopoly. At 
 least, to me the word was always a kind of fairy, cre- 
 ating such wonders for my imagination as no words can 
 describe ; but I find the Pitti is a something decidedly 
 matter-of-fact and substantial — why, if it were in 
 America we'd call it a house ! From without, as viewed 
 from the front, it presents the form of two immense 
 symmetrical L's, so placed that the two long stems 
 make a single line. Where the two L's meet is the 
 arched entrance to the inner court ; and here a com- 
 mon place Italian soldier, in his slouchy blue uniform 
 always stands guard. This, together with the fact 
 that the ten great oblong windows below, and the ten 
 square ones a little higher up, are protected by a grat- 
 ing of heavy cross-barred iron work, seems to indicate 
 that the first story contains something worth seeing; 
 but in Florence curiosity has little time to fret over 
 the inaccessible. One row of windows, twenty-three 
 in number, each surmounted by a Roman arch, furnish 
 light to that part of the building to which strangers are 
 admitted. Above the central portion rises still another 
 story, to which only a terrace need be added in order 
 to carry out the design of the great architect Brunel- 
 leschi. Pausing only long enough to take in these 
 characteristics of the imposing structurCj I hastened to 
 
LETTER TWENTY-NINE. 279 
 
 the doorway under the left hand colonnade, and, 
 directed by the narrow staircase, found my way to the 
 suite of rooms fitted up for the reception of such mas- 
 terpieces as money has been able to procure. 
 
 One is quite tired enough to enjoy resting after 
 climbing so many flights of steps, so I sank down upon 
 the first seat which presented itself. It didn't happen 
 to be be a hard stool though, but instead, a high- 
 back arm chair, all gilt except the crimson velvet 
 cushion, and it wasn't the easy-chair of the room, 
 either, for more than a dozen mates to it sat invitingly 
 around the walls. Beside me was a table of the far- 
 famed Florentine mosaic, bordered with bands of lapis- 
 lazuli, jasper, and various other stones unknown to 
 me. So perfectly formed and tinted is every rose, 
 fuschia, or lily in the central wreath, that one almost 
 expects to perceive their fragrance ; so naturally is the 
 humming-bird poised to sip their sweets, that one 
 would feel little surprised should the timid things take 
 flight at her approach. Opposite is another of these 
 tables, and between the two windows to the riglit, a 
 third, each bearing a vase of choice workmanship. In 
 the center of the smooth, gray, marble-like floor is a 
 statue of Victory, who is proudly tracing on her 
 shield the names of Montebello and Palaestro. Long 
 is the journey which the eye must make from the foot 
 of Victory's pedestal to the center of the domed ceil- 
 ing, and the amount of space it must then traverse in 
 order to take in the design is more than I can say, for 
 here I beo;an to be bewildered. This room is called 
 
280 SALOON OP JUPITER. 
 
 the Saloon of Jupiter, and there, on the frescoed ceil- 
 ing, is, represented the god with Juno, surrounded by 
 the lesser divinities which are said to form their court. 
 A heavily gilded frame seemingly supported at each 
 corner by life size female figures, limits this pictured 
 empire of Jove. Below this is a series of lunettes 
 painted in brilliant frescoes and encircled by satyrs, 
 nymphs, and cherubs. From these lunettes above to 
 the tables below, the walls are hung with a soft, crim- 
 son, silken drapery; 'but this is almost hidden by pre- 
 cious bits of canvass, on which artists of the fifteenth, 
 sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries have spent days 
 of labor and nights of thought. 
 
 I have described to you only one of these magnificent 
 rooms : there are six along the front, and these open 
 into a parallel suit, which, in turn, is joined by a nar- 
 row corridor to a third, at right angles to it. Here 
 are preserved over five hundred mementoes of the 
 centuries in which art was brought to perfection and 
 especially flourished. Side by side are the master, 
 Periigino, and the more gifted pupil, Eaphael; the 
 fervently religiously Bartollommeo, and the coldly 
 correct Del Sarto. On one wall hangs a beautiful but 
 fading remnant of Giorgione, opposite glow the warm 
 tints of his successor, Titian ; a scene marvelous in its 
 prodigality of sourceless sunlights, marks the unre- 
 strained genius of Reubens; the faces of Charles I. 
 and Henrietta calmly proclaim the refined taste of his 
 rival Vandyke. The old race for the palm of master- 
 painter seems kept up by Michael Angelo and Da 
 
LETTER TWENTY-NINE. 281 
 
 Vinci, for each contributes a single specimen to this 
 collection. As usual, Angelo has rather the best of 
 it, for his subject is an ideal, while that of Da Yinci is 
 a portrait. . It is the Three Fates, represented by three 
 old toothless women, or rather by the same wrinkled 
 creature under three different aspects. In one she holds 
 the distaff, while her open mouth gives her a fixed ex_ 
 pression of dread ; in the second she draws out the thread 
 and twists it between her bony fingers, her mild face 
 seeming only intent upon her work ; in the third she is 
 eagerly waiting the permission to apply her ready 
 shears to the slender thread. 
 
 Unrivaled in his field, unique amidst the hosts of 
 Madonnas, Holy Families, Magdalenes and Ascensions, 
 appears Salvator Eosa in his wild landscapes, sea- 
 pieces and battle-scenes. Claude Lorraine is not here, 
 by his wonderful light, to throw Salvator into the 
 shade; but in one piece the latter has given us a 
 reminder of the great French artist. The scene is a 
 harbor sheltered by a castle-guarded promontory on 
 the left and extending into a limitless ocean in every 
 other direction. Anchored near the shore are many 
 ships, which almost seem to rock with the gentle undu- 
 lations of the bright blue water ; sailors are busy on 
 the beach towing in and making fast the boats ; but 
 the most striking part is the distance. A vessel is just 
 sailing into port, but the golden rays of the sun dis- 
 solved in a rising mist gives it such a natural indis- 
 tinctness, that one feels prompted to ask the " Captain 
 for a peep through his glass." I might tell you of 
 
282 FLORENCE. 
 
 Eosa's faults, too, as I have observed them in other 
 pictures; but I didn't go to Pitti on Monday to spend 
 my time on its inferior occupants. Mediocrity can be 
 found anywhere, so when I give a franc to the bank- 
 rupt Italian government, I take the liberty of choosing 
 in return the best things in her treasury. 
 
 If one wants to worship the Virgin, there is much 
 room for exercise of taste in the Pitti. Now, in Dres- 
 den, wander as you may through the Z winger's many 
 rooms, you are irresistibly drawn to the little sanctum 
 in the far corner for one more glance at the trans- 
 cendant loveliness of the Sistine Madonna ; but in no 
 other instance has Raphael raised his conception so far 
 above the earth. The Madonna della Sedia is only a 
 beautiful woman, a fond mother tenderly clasping the 
 infant in her arms; one may turn from it to look 
 with pleasure upon the next group by Del Sarto. 
 Indeed, it would not be presumption to consider the 
 round, immature face in the latter as more like that of 
 the simple Jewish Mary ; the careless, abstracted man- 
 ner in which she sustains the infant on her knee seems 
 the natural outgrowth of her ignorance in regard to his 
 divine character. 
 
 But, really, while I was comparing these two 
 Madonnas I caught a glimpse of a pair of bright eyes 
 watching me from an adjacent corner. A pair of rosy 
 cheeks, a pair of kiss-inviting lips, a dimpled chin, and 
 two chubby little hands, accompanied these eyes, and 
 ten little pink toes were peeping out from beneath the 
 embroidered quilt of the tiny bed on which lay 
 
LETTER THIRTY. 283 
 
 this baby Medici; for it was one of this notoriously 
 wicked family whose infantine attractions had drawn 
 me from Del Sarto's Madonna. Yes, he is a prince in 
 whose veins flowed the same blood which seems warm- 
 ing into life the coarse features of Leo X. as transfer- 
 red to canvas by the brush of Eaphael. Can it be 
 possible that this stubborn opponent of Luther, this 
 artful granter of indulgences, was once such a kitten- 
 like baby Medici, into whose innocent eyes one might 
 delight to look? Well, well, I can't believe that all 
 the seeds of depravity, which bore such abundant 
 fruits in the after lives of this infamous family, were 
 already sown in the hearts of such laughing bits of 
 infantine humanity. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 Florence, December 19, 1875. 
 Dear Brother South: 
 
 FIND myself to-day indebted to you for three 
 letters, all received since writing my last. One of 
 them should have reached me much sooner, but was 
 probably delayed by ocean storms. You ask about 
 Vachel. Have I not told you that he is in Vienna 
 doing extremely well? In fact, I fear he is doing too 
 
284 FLORENCE. 
 
 well; I fear that the end of his course will find him 
 broken down with over study. He says, however, 
 there is no danger of such a result. He is very eagerly 
 pursuing his profession, for he finds many novelties in 
 the German system of medicine. We had a letter 
 from him this morning, and his present plan is to come 
 to Italy about the first of March, go with us to Paris, 
 there spend several weeks in the hospitals, then go to 
 London. We expect to leave Florence on the 4th of 
 January, not very far in the future now. We will go 
 immediately to Rome, and for a month or six weeks 
 make ourselves busy amid its old ruins. You express 
 the hope that in " the land of song and beauty " my 
 muse may become inspired. If you had been with me 
 on the 8th of November you might have thought the 
 circumstance sufficient to call forth a poetic burst of 
 enthusiasm. It was in the evening, about half-past 
 eight, when we left the house, and after winding about 
 for awhile in the narrow streets, we suddenly emerged 
 into the full moonlight. Its rays, coming from a sky 
 in which only a few fleecy clouds floated i*n the far- 
 away blue, fell upon the Arno, and transformed its 
 muddy tide into gleaming silver — fell upon the queer 
 old Ponte Vecchio, and changed its grotesque line of 
 shops into a palace extending oyer the water — fell, 
 too, upon the statue of good Demidoff, forming a 
 glory round his head, and lighting up his benevolent 
 face. 
 
 This was just beyond the Ponte Yecchio, where we 
 first came into the moonlight. From there we con- 
 
LETTER THIRTY. 285 
 
 tinued our walk some distance along the Acno, then, 
 turning to the right, passed through the old gate of 
 San Miniato, which opens the way up the hill to the 
 fortress built by Michael Angelo. A long flight of 
 stone steps renders the ascent easy, and, ever and 
 anon, we stopped to rest against the sturdy trunk of a 
 towering cypress. A dark stately array of these mag- 
 nificent trees bounds the path on one side and on the 
 other appear in strong contrast the light boughs and 
 delicate leaves of the olive. There were six of us : a 
 sweet little woman named Madam Runge, an English 
 lady, whose husband was a German, her son, an inter- 
 esting, well-educated youth of nineteen; the two 
 Misses Frodshams, Julia and Ede, two unassuming 
 English girls. The others kept turning round and 
 uttering expressions of delight, as they began to see 
 the city in the moonlight ; but I firmly resisted every 
 temptation to look backward till I was quite at the 
 top — at the foot of the bronze "David," which 
 stands at the center of the Piazza of Michael Angelo. 
 This piazza was constructed only this year, the fourth 
 centennial of Angelo' s birth. The top, or rather side, 
 of the hill has been leveled down, made substantial by 
 walls of stone, and then neatly graveled. It is on the 
 northeast side of the city, overlooks its whole extent, 
 and also takes in the surrounding mountains. We 
 walked quite around the grand statute, his dark pro- 
 portions standing out clearly in the white light. The 
 tall spires of the Palazzo Vecchio,the old palace where 
 the rulers of the Eepublic were wont to meet; the 
 
286 AN INCIDENT. 
 
 great dome of the Cathedral, the highest and largest in 
 the world; the graceful outline of the Campanile, 
 proof of Giotto's genius ; the white fagade of Santa 
 Croce, — all marked for us familiar spots, piazzas to 
 which our feet are often turned. To say, as almost any 
 American girl would do, " It is perfectly lovely," would 
 be a very inadequate way of putting it. Had there then 
 been no other demand for my time, I might have writ- 
 ten your poem; but this thing of taking care of one's 
 self, of keeping one's accounts, of learning to converse 
 in a strange tongue with strange people, is too intensely 
 practical to leave much room for the sentimental. 
 When I get somebody to take care of me, and can find 
 leisure for dreaming, perhaps then my muse will be- 
 friend me, and give you delight. I make no promise, 
 however. I intend always to use my powers of mind 
 in that way which I think most conducive to good. 
 Just now, I have quite fallen in love with prose ; it is a 
 pleasure to write my letters to Brother Graham ; I like 
 to take a great, comprehensive subject, and reduce it 
 to the compass of twelve of these pages. 
 
 But I was going to tell you a little incident which 
 Madam Runge related that night as we were retiring. 
 She has spent several years of her life in the West 
 Indies, and our moonlight walk recalled to her the 
 scenes of those days; for, in these isles, the heat at 
 noon is so intense that one can only sleep, and then at 
 night they take advantage of the milder rays of the 
 moon. She was reminded of the friends with whom 
 
LETTER THIRTY. 287 
 
 those hours were spent, and turning to me andKate, 
 she said : — 
 
 "I can tell you something that will interest you. 
 In Havana I knew an American lady who was gov- 
 erness in a wealthy family. A man who was employed 
 as chief servant on the sugar plantation fell in love 
 with her. She knew he was an Italian exiled for 
 some political reason from his native land; but further 
 than this she knew not. She accepted him as he was, 
 and they were married. A few years passed ; changes 
 came for Italy ; Victor Emanuel's power became estab- 
 lished; and this man, the servant whom she had mar- 
 ried, was recalled from exile, and they now live in 
 Milan in the style befitting the rank of a count. So 
 you see," continued Madam R., "by marrying for 
 love, she also acquired position." 
 
 I give you this little story, not so much for its 
 intrinsic merit as for the insight it gives into Madam's 
 character. She is a woman of forty-five, I suppose, 
 but in spirit she is a mere girl, in full sympathy with 
 the romantic. She is always giving some such tender 
 episode. She has now gone to Eome, where we hope 
 to meet her again. 
 
 Since my last writing there have been several changes 
 in our pension. At this very minute there sits within 
 reach of my hand a young Italian with the black eyes, 
 black hair, dark skin, and other physical traits peculiar 
 to his race. He has been here several days, but I 
 have had little time to talk with him. He is of rather 
 
288 " THE COUNT." 
 
 metaphysical turn of mind ; is also a geologist ; speaks 
 English, German, French, — all fluently; has been in 
 England, Germany, France, Austria, and other Euro- 
 pean countries. He has returned home with the full 
 conviction that Italy is the best place, after all; that 
 of crimes she is indeed often guilty, but only of such 
 crimes as rise from heated blood. He is quite shocked 
 with the cold-blooded murders of which England is 
 capable. Indeed, he considers England far too ma- 
 terialistic, anyway. He thinks it would be a universal 
 calamity for England's influence to become predom- 
 inant. He thinks the half -starved, half-clad Italian, 
 who, 'mid dirt and discomfort, transfers to canvas or 
 to marble block the ideal beauty of his soul, is a far 
 higher type of humanity than is the beef-eating, well- 
 clothed, comfortably-housed Englishman. 
 
 He is a little inclined to air his learning, a habit 
 probably acquired from association with what he 
 chooses to term " those conceited Englishmen." I 
 don't know his name, but the other day he was before 
 the mirror, and casting upon the reflected image rather 
 admiring glances, when an Irish clergyman said: — 
 
 *' You ought to be a marquis." 
 
 "A marquis!" said he; "a marquis, instead of 
 what?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said the Irishman, " I thought 
 a marquis was something grand." 
 
 "Something grand!" said the Italian contemptu- 
 ously, " do you think a marquis is better than a 
 count?'' 
 
LETTER THIRTY. 289 
 
 This is either an implied falsehood, or else he is the 
 owner of this rather uncertain title. I say uncertain, 
 because such titles are often the only possession of 
 the Italian nobility. The Irishman, who, by the way, 
 is a clergyman, with curly, mouse-colored hair, parted 
 in the middle, is something of a wit, and likes to take 
 the "count" down when he gets into one of his 
 boastful spells. To-night he said : — 
 
 " I'll tell you, ladies, what are the gentleman's hob- 
 bies : the resuscitation of the spirit which has once 
 lived in the artists snd saints of by-gone Italian 
 days; and, secondly, the construction of balloons. 
 He thinks the only way to resist the influence of this 
 lower world is to rise above — it in a balloon, if no 
 other way." 
 
 So much for the Irishman and the Count. 
 
 There is still another couple I must mention, — a 
 young Roumanian. (Roumania is a country near Hun- 
 gary) and his bride. Neither of them can speak 
 English, and he was overjoyed to find me able to 
 understand German. He began * talking about his 
 journey from home to Venice, of his stay in Yenice* 
 and its suburbs, and added: — 
 
 *' When one has company, one can enjoy sight- 
 seeing, one can be happy anywhere, even in a forest. 
 I have felt quite alone many a time in a large city ; 
 but now" — and his face took on an expression of 
 iadescribable joy and pride — "I am making my 
 bridal tour." 
 
 19 
 
290 FLORENCE. 
 
 I was much amused at the apparent satisfaction with 
 which he saw I understood what he said. His bride 
 is a mere child ; he is seemingly very delicate and a 
 little lame; but they are supremely happy. They 
 leave us to-morrow, and I am sorry, for not often can 
 I practice my German as I have with him. 
 
 There is also an Australian couple with whom we 
 have been entertained. He calls her " dear," she calls 
 him ditto; she coughs, he looks wonderfully sympa- 
 thetic ; she isn't able to come to breakfast, he car- 
 ries her coffee to her with his own hand. From all 
 these signs, although somewhat advanced in years, it 
 became the opinion that they were spending their hon- 
 eymoon. It has come out, however, that they have 
 been married twenty years, and he is a living proof 
 that a man can be gallant to his wife even twenty years 
 from his wedding-day. 
 
 Doubtless you're tired of this gossip, and I am tired 
 of writing. I have something else to tell yon, though, 
 which I had quite forgotten. Do you remember that 
 picture of Veronica which we saw at the Cincinnati 
 Exposition? A woman gazing on the face of her dead 
 rival? You remember the severed head, as it lay on 
 the table before her, and the look of horror on her 
 face? Well, that scene was borrowed from an inci- 
 dent in Florentine history. The murdered woman was 
 the wife of one Jacobo Salviata, her name was Cater- 
 ina, and she was equally noted for her beauty and 
 her virtue. Duke of San Giuliauo was the husband 
 
LETTER THIRTY. 291 
 
 of Veronica, and he greatly admired Caterina. Ex- 
 cited by jealousy, Veronica induced the step-son of 
 Caterina to cut off her head. 
 
 Kate says, I really must stop . I don't know whether 
 you will call this a love-letter or not ; but my defini- 
 tion of a love-letter is one dictated by a heart full of 
 affection for the one addressed, and, in this sense, I 
 write you no other kind. But, you say, you wish me 
 to express in some way the measure of my love. I 
 don't know how. I am somewhat versed in mathe- 
 matics, but this is a quantity which I know not how to 
 estimate. If it, were arithmetical, I could tell it in 
 numbers ; if it were algebraic, I could find its value, 
 though it might require some elimination and substitu- 
 tion — oh I now I have it! It is geometrical, and I 
 can demonstrate it. I like .best, too, the indirect 
 method of proof, so that the conclusion comes in as a 
 kind of surprise. Address me in care of American 
 Consul, Rome, and I'll tell you more about it next 
 time. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
292 
 
 LE TTER 
 
 Florence, December 26, 1875. 
 Dear Sister Mora: 
 
 ^NOTHER two weeks have gone by, and although 
 they have brought me no letter to answer, I 
 will prepare a few pages for to-morrow's mail. If 
 you have written as often as I have, many of the letters 
 have failed to reach me. It is often four weeks from 
 one to the next, so I have ceased to expect one at any 
 certain time. Yesterday was Christmas Day and the 
 weather was most mild and lovely. I intend to write 
 to President Graham how we spent that day and the 
 preceding evening; so I will write to you on some other 
 theme. I'll entertain you a little while with the way 
 in which I spent Thursday morning, December 23d. 
 
 On Tuesday we received an addition to the occu- 
 pants of our pension in the shape of a Virginia lady . 
 Her name is Anne Shaw — not Anna or Annie, but old 
 English Anne, pronounced as if the "e" were not 
 there. She says her mother used to have an intimate 
 friend named Mary Cave ; she also knows the Virginia 
 Lindsays and can trace their ancestry back to earls 
 and counts of England. I am sorry I do not know 
 more of the connecting links between myself and 
 these Virginia Lindsays ; for Miss Shaw is anxious' to 
 
LETTER THIRTY-ONE. 293 
 
 know. I told her last night that I was sorry, that, 
 through my ignorance, my forefathers should lose the 
 honor of such a descendant (?). She stopped in En- 
 gland to visit the tombs of her ancestors. I asked her 
 if she had also been to the Holy Land to weep over 
 the tombs of our Grandfather Adam. She laughed, 
 for she has read Mark Twain's " Innocents Abroad ; " 
 but, the laugh being over, she was as seriously proud 
 as ever of her " blue blood." And really, though I 
 spoke of it lightly, I do not blame her; for it is cer- 
 tainly an agreeable consciousness to know one's self the 
 member of a family whose individuality has been 
 marked through the ages. 
 
 She is very dignified, and people generally think her 
 cold; but she unbends a little when I get to talking 
 with her, so I am getting over the shyness which she 
 at first inspired. She is quite tall and slender, with 
 large gray eyes, and fair, rosy complexion. Her hair 
 is quite gray and this makes her appear prematurely 
 old ; but I do not think she is more than twenty-five 
 or thirty. She is a most independent personage, ex- 
 ploring London, Paris, or any other city, entirely 
 alone. She has been rather unfortunate, however; 
 for, in Paris, she was ill two months, and in Geneva 
 her trunk was stolen. It was a regular Saratoga, 
 weighing with its contents two hundred pounds. She 
 had a lawsuit with the railroad company by whom it 
 was lost, and this detained her three months in that 
 small, uninteresting city. About two weeks before her 
 loss, there had been a law passed to the effect that a 
 
294 HOME OF ANGELO. 
 
 railroad company should not be responsible for over 
 $300 worth of baggage ; but so strong was her case, 
 that a larger sum was granted her. She still mourns 
 the loss, however, of some books among its contents ; 
 for they were books once used by her father, whose 
 memory she greatly reveres. 
 
 Well, it was with this lady as a companion, that T 
 went Thursday to visit the home of Michael Angelo. 
 You may know that this painter, sculptor, poet, and 
 architect lived a great many years ago (1475-1564) ; so 
 you would expect his house to look very old ; but, in 
 truth, it has been recently fitted up, till it has quite 
 the air of a modern stone palace. Over the entrance, 
 in a little niche, is a bust of the great man himself. 
 It is a bronze copy of the marble bust on his tomb . 
 He has very prominent cheekbones, a short upper lip 
 which presses very firmly against the lower one, and a 
 handsomely developed head. In spite of his greatness, 
 he has rather a stern, forbidding look; and his beauty 
 is further marred by a mashed nose. 
 
 Entering, we found in the first room portraits of 
 himself and several of the family — of his brothers, 
 sisters, uncles, and such like, I mean; for he was never 
 married. He never thought about falling in love till 
 he was sixty-eight, and then the object of his affections, 
 Vittoria Colonna, was a widow who could not admit to 
 her heart any rival to her buried love. 
 
 The next room is filled with sketches from which his 
 pictures, statues, or architectural designs were devel- 
 
LETTER THIRTY-ONE. 295 
 
 oped. These are drawn with pencil or crayon on com- 
 mon card-board, or drawing paper. I recognized, 
 among other things, the front of San Lorenzo, one of 
 the largest churches in the city. 
 
 The next room has on its walls and ceilings paintings 
 illustrating the incidents of his life. First, he is, with 
 hair still black and beard but slightly grown, standing 
 before Julius II., Pope of Kome. The old man is 
 making with him a contract for the building of his 
 magnificent tomb You remember Julius began to feel 
 superstitious about building his tomb during life, and 
 Angelo betook himself back to his native Florence. 
 It was only by extravagant promises that the Pope ever 
 induced Angelo to return to Rome; and, at last, when 
 the artist stood once more in his presence, Julius was 
 overcome with anger, and reproved him sharply for 
 having left unbidden. 
 
 *'Do not be too hard on the poor fellow," inter- 
 posed an ecclesiastic sitting by ; * ' Your Holiness must 
 remember that aU of his class are coarse and unedu- 
 cated." 
 
 Now the fury of the Pope turned upon the meddling 
 speaker. 
 
 *«How dare you insult this man!" he exclaimed. 
 "You are yourself uneducated; leave my presence 
 this minute with your awkwardness." 
 
 Then, as the Pope had expended his anger, he turned, 
 graciously to Michael Angelo, and they were reconciled 
 You see, in the person of Julius II. the holy papal 
 
296 SOME OLD SKETCHES. 
 
 robes covered a very irate old man, and one who could 
 brook no opposition to his will. This reflection was 
 called up by the first picture. 
 
 In the second scene, ambassadors from Constantino- 
 ple approach him, and insist that he shall come to build 
 for their Sultan a great bridge. The dark faces of 
 the Turks make an effective contrast with their bright 
 turbans. Angelo declines the tempting offer of the 
 Sultan ; for he is too patriotic to leave his own country. 
 
 In the third picture he is discussing with Leo X. 
 the design of San Lorenzo, the very one of which I 
 have spoken. Leo was the new Pope who came next 
 to Julius II., and Angelo lived to see his death and 
 that of several of his successors. You see, Popes are 
 always old men, so there must frequently be a new one 
 chosen. Up to this time there have been altogether 
 two hundred and fifty-six Popes. 
 
 In still another picture Angelo is showing the model 
 accordino: to which he intends to build St. Peter's. 
 You remember Mark Twain's description of this im- 
 mense Roman structure. Well, it was the great 
 Michael Angelo who directed its building. You mustn't 
 suppose, however, that he was an ordinary stone ma- 
 son; what he did was to direct the workmen, and none 
 but a marvelous genius could ever have conceived the 
 plan. All the distinguished artists of former times 
 were architects as well as painters. 
 
 There were several other rooms ; but their contents, 
 though interesting to examine, can not well be de- 
 scribed. Besides there is so much talking in the room 
 
LETTER THIRTY- ONE. 297 
 
 it is impossible to concentrate my thoughts. The sub- 
 ject under discussion is Mrs. Jennings, manager of the 
 pension, her servants, and the washerwoman. Mrs. 
 Frodsham and her four daughters, it seems, have 
 rooms adjoining that of Mrs. Jennings. Mrs. J. has a 
 piano in her room, and to help eke out her income she 
 had given Miss Latimer, for a few francs, the privi- 
 lege of practicing on this instrument. Mrs. F. com- 
 plained to Mrs. J. that this playing made her 
 nervous and asked that it might be discontinued. 
 Again, next day, the meditations of Mrs. F. and her 
 daughters were disturbed by the same harassing sounds. 
 Quite cooly she went to Mrs. J. and said : — 
 
 " I shall not complain again; let the practicing con- 
 tinue — we'll find another boarding-house." 
 
 Poor Mrs. J. is an excitable creature, so she flew 
 into a passion and said some ugly things ; but she de- 
 pends for a living upon the amount received from 
 boarders, and she knew this would not do. She sub- 
 dued her spirit for the sake of needed gain ; granted 
 the request of these five people ; meets them now with 
 smiling face, and strives to yield to all their demands. 
 This is what I have learned from the remarks around 
 the room this evening. 
 
 "Very uninteresting," say you? 
 
 So I thought, but there is a lesson in it. I know 
 now something of the trials which must be endured by 
 the keeper of a pension, and I shall try always to be 
 as little trouble as possible, that I may not increase 
 their burdens. 
 
298 A NOISY CHAT. 
 
 But there has also been a long list of grievances 
 committed by the washerwoman. She doesn't make 
 collars and cuffs stiff enough ; she doesn't take all the 
 dirt out; she is dearer than those in Paris; etc., etc. 
 I have the same woman, think she is very cheap, don't 
 know how she lives at such a rate, my clothes are gen- 
 erally satisfactory. A slight difference of opinion, 
 you see. I think some people consider it a proof of 
 their gentility to complain of everything that is done 
 for them when they are away from home. 
 
 It amuses me to see the dignified silence with which 
 the Virginian endures this noisy chit-chat. She too 
 has been writiug, but just now she sits before the 
 stove, perfectly erect, and almost contemptuous. The 
 weather is now the topic. 
 
 " Compared with England," says Miss Julia F., 
 " this climate is perfectly blissful." 
 
 The truth is, we have had some very disagreeable 
 days, rainy and chilly, with some frost on clear nights ; 
 but the snow has approached no nearer than the heights 
 of the Apennines, and now it is as mild and clear as 
 May-time. A fire is quite comfortable in the house; 
 for it is colder within than without the thick walls of 
 these Florentine palaces. 
 
 We're going to Rome next week ; at least, that is 
 our present intention. We intend to leave one trunk 
 here during our stay in Eome and Naples. We are 
 tired of taking care of two, and think the one left will 
 be safer here. There is a special attraction to draw us 
 to Naples now, Vesuvius is in a state of eruption, just 
 
LETTER THIRTY-TWO. 299 
 
 enough to be interesting without being dangerous. "We 
 can better imagine the destruction of Pompeii if we 
 see the volcano still smoking above its ruins. We still 
 have much to see and learn, and the five or six re- 
 maining months will soon slip by. Kate has almost 
 finished a beautiful painting copied from one of Sal- 
 vator Rosa's noted landscapes. It has in it dark 
 mountains, a bit of water lit by a sunset glow, and 
 some bandits in the foreground. Kate's health has 
 not been good enough to admit of her studying as I 
 have done ; but this exquisite souvenir of Italy will 
 largely compensate her for patiently restraining her 
 desire to prosecute some regular study. Hoping you 
 may some day see this picture, and many other lesser 
 mementoes of our travels, I am 
 
 Your sister, 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 Florence, Italy, December, 28, 1875. 
 
 Dear Bro. Graham : 
 
 ^ORthe last time I address you under the old, famil- 
 iar date of 1875. The old year has brought me 
 more than one longed-for joy, I only hope the new may 
 b e as gracious . Since my first acquaintance with Ho cker 
 
300 CHRISTMAS IN ITALY. 
 
 College, the words " Christmas " and *' Home " have 
 been so inseparably connected in my mind, that the 
 former seemed as nothing when robbed of its associations 
 with the latter, but the 25th of December will come, 
 though one be removed by leagues of ocean and miles of 
 land f roin the beloved hearthstone. We didn't hang up 
 our stockings Christmas eve, for these little earthenware 
 stoves give no hint of so much as a narrow flue down which 
 a respectably-laden Santa Claus might force his sooty 
 way. Indeed, the first reminder that this was the sea- 
 son for display of generosity and good will came from 
 his most popular majesty, the postman; not that his 
 letter-bag was unusually full of good news, bui this 
 morning he presented his hat that we might pour into 
 it a material proof of our appreciation of his services. 
 Every girl commissioned months ago by some dress- 
 maker to bring to the owner a tardily finished walking 
 suit ; every boy induced to suspend his idleness or 
 begging long enough to carry a bundle from the shop 
 to your address ; every washerwomen who had done 
 you the kindness to ruin all your best collars and cuffs, 
 all remembered whom they had served, and called to 
 claim a Christmas gift. Nina as she polished the mir- 
 ror, Garibaldo as he filled our pitcher with fresh water, 
 Adriano as he poured out our morning coffee — in fact, 
 every servant about the house looked at us with hun- 
 gry, expectant eyes. I can not say that we felt alto- 
 gether comfortable under these glances, for two or 
 three francs each to these many applicants must 
 make a sensible impression upon already none-too- 
 
LETTER THIRTY-TWO. 301 
 
 tightly-packed purses. Seriously, I think one of the 
 first steps towards elevating these people must be to 
 teach them a little independence, to teach them that it 
 is beneath the dignity of a man to receive something 
 for nothing. 
 
 There is a little Waldensian who comes to the house 
 every day to give lessons in Italian. From him we 
 learned that on the evening of the 24th there would be 
 given a Christmas tree to those school children of 
 whom I have spoken in a previous letter. We deter- 
 mined to go to witness the grateful joy of the little 
 ones. We entered the court of the palace, and turned 
 to the chapel on the right, but we found all dark there. 
 
 " Up stairs, ladies," said a gentleman noticing our 
 perplexity. 
 
 From the landing we passed to the door of the 
 large hall for theological students, but from the dimness 
 of the light we inferred that we were again mistaken. 
 Again some one took us in charge, and we were shortly 
 after ushered into a bright parlor. We were greeted 
 by a genial-faced lady who, taking the hand of the 
 foremost of the party, inquired : — 
 
 "Are these the Misses ? " 
 
 This revealed the fact that we were intruding where 
 only invited guests were expected, but our apologies 
 were so cordially accepted that our embarrassment 
 soon wore away. The chairs around the walls were well 
 nigh all occupied by friends and patrons of the school; 
 the gentleman of the house we recognized as one of 
 the professors of the theological department. The 
 
302 A, CHRISTMAS TREE. 
 
 flag of Italy adorned one side of the room, opposite 
 hung that of Florence, but in the center was the chief 
 attraction. The dark boughs of the Christmas tree 
 were laden with the usual variety of fruits; gilded 
 nuts, silvered pine cones, perforated ginger snaps, 
 dolls undergoing capital punishment, and such like. I 
 missed, however, the white festoons of pop-corn, for 
 of this luxury the Italian children seem ignorant. 
 The hundreds of tiny wax candles were scarcely lighted 
 when the sound of singing from the farther end of the 
 hall was followed by the appearance of the young Wal- 
 densian host led by a gallant standard bearer. First 
 came the girl*, who stationed themselves in orderly 
 array on the opposite side of the room, while the boys 
 stood next to us. They were sturdy little fellows, 
 with hair newly trimmed, and faces quite aglow with 
 cleanliness. Their gray, homespun suits, they were 
 wearing for the first time ; but already they began to 
 feel at home in them, for their hands were hidden in the 
 depths of their pockets. I was expecting the sight of 
 the Christmas tree to cause some of them to forget 
 their song, but not so ; each one seemed earnestly in- 
 tent upon making his voice most distinctly heard. I 
 never saw children wear so solemn an aspect, perhaps 
 they had never learned to be happy. After the song 
 ensued a brief silence which was broken by a clear, 
 ringing, childish voice, and peering through the 
 branches of the intervening pine I saw the slight form 
 and graceful gestures of the same little girl whose 
 copy-book was shown us on our previous visit. She 
 
LETTER THIRTY-TWO. 303 
 
 was talking of the goodness of God, and two of her 
 schoolmates soon joined her in an animated dialogue. 
 This introduction was followed by a declamation from 
 the boy who had to be prompted, by a brave address 
 from Master Four-year-old, whose red cheeks and 
 style of eloquence reminded me of Master Eobert 
 McUarvey; by other dialogues alternating with 
 Christmas songs, till I began to feel impatient 
 to see the distribution of presents. At last two 
 little girls made their way across the room and 
 stopped in front of our hostess. It needed no inter- 
 preter to translate the meaning of the soft, sweet 
 words which fell from their lips ; in their dark brown 
 eyes shone the deep gratitude and love which they 
 were trying to express They made an offering of 
 flowers to their kind benefactress, and in return she 
 imprinted a warm kiss on each glowing cheek. This 
 was the signal for their fun to begin, and every face 
 began to brighten a little, even suppressed tittering 
 could be heard from several quarters. " Naldo 
 Greco," called out a man who had mounted a chair 
 where he could be better seen, Naldo came forward 
 and received a package of clothing, a treat of oranges, 
 apples and cakes, and a few of the gilded nuts. 
 *' Italia Cornielli, Adolpho Michelozzi," and many 
 another high sounding musical name was called with 
 the same result. "We did not wait to see the last limb 
 stripped of its joy-inspiring fruit, for Mrs. Jennings 
 had enjoined upon us to return to her drawing-room 
 by nine o'clock. What might be her reason for wish- 
 
304 WATCH NIGHT. 
 
 ing our presence we didn't know, but we were not left 
 long to the necessity of guessing. 
 
 * 'A merry Christmas and a happy ISfew Year I ' ' 
 exclaimed Mrs. J., throwing the door open, and to 
 prove the sincerity of her wish, Adriana appeared 
 bearing an immense waiter of good things. This re- 
 freshment was not superfluous, for we had determined 
 to keep watch till midnight. 
 
 At a quarter till eleven, quite a party of us started 
 to the St. Annunziata, and guided by the light of the 
 stars found our way to this old church, which has for 
 five centuries been the favorite place for celebrating 
 the Nativity. We had peeped in at a side door of the 
 great Cathedral as we were passing, but its somberness 
 was too chilling to make more than a minute's stay en- 
 durable. To be sure there were lighted candles on its 
 few altars, but their struggling rays were quite over- 
 come in the attempt to dispel the darkness of the vast 
 area. A similar obscurity veiled the frescoed walls of 
 the vestibule at Annunziata; but to-night there was 
 opportunity to study artists more wonderful than 
 Andrea del Sarto. To-night the mystic picture painted 
 long ago by the angels, would be open to the gaze of 
 reverence or curiosity. With this thought we pushed 
 aside the heavy screen and stood beside this very altar. 
 Numberless tapers cast their soft radiance over the face 
 of the Holy Mother ; but what has become of her wor- 
 shipers? We had expected a crowd of awed, beseech- 
 ing faces around this sacred shrine, but not so. 
 Perhaps they have ceased to believe that angels would 
 
LETTEE THIETY-TWO. 305 
 
 produce a work so far inferior to what man has done. 
 The church was fast- filling, but we pushed through 
 the crowd till we stood near the steps ascending to the 
 choir. Already a solitary priest was chanting behind 
 the scene, and by the time we were packed in so tight 
 that no one could move without exciting a sympathetic 
 wave throughout the assembly, the organ began to 
 make its notes heard. Then came the procession of 
 priests with their candlesticks of heavy silver, which 
 they arranged on each side of the high altar, where they 
 themselves remained standing. They were old men 
 with hair as white as their tonsured crowns, mark of 
 their consecration. They should have appeared devo- 
 tional, but they seemed more interested in the mixed 
 congregation than in the approaching mass. The one 
 whose duty it was to elevate the host stood at waiting; 
 everything was in readiness for the anticipated cere- 
 monies, when the clock struck twelve. At the first 
 stroke, there was removed, as if by magic, the cover- 
 ing of a little silver shrine above the center of the high 
 altar. There were numbers of Italians all around us, 
 and we expected to see them kneel and bow their heads 
 in common with the priests at the revelation of this 
 mystery, but instead, an instantaneous laugh of ridicule 
 pervaded the whole house — not loud, for there were 
 some half dozen police present to prevent any inter- 
 ference with the ceremonies. The ridicule was surely 
 justifiable, for the occupants of the silver shrine were 
 two great wax dolls, the larger holding the infant in 
 her arms. Instead of hay their bed was of flowers, 
 
 20 
 
306 A SUPERSTITIOUS CUSTOM. 
 
 and the pink dress of the babe had quite a modern air 
 The music was not sufficiently attractive to detain us 
 within sight of these mummeries. We had staid long 
 enough to see that Italians themselves have learned to 
 throw off belief in the superstitious customs of their 
 ancestors, which we had never before so fully realized. 
 The time has come when this people refuses to be led 
 blindly; when faith comes to them again, it must be 
 with reason, as its support. 
 
 EUDORA, 
 
 LETTER XXXm. 
 
 Florence, January 2, 1876. 
 Dear Brother South: 
 
 f THANK you most sincerely for sending me such 
 _ ' desira/ble Christmas and New Year's gifts. On last 
 Saturday I went to church, and did not return till 
 noon ; and all the way home I had been thinking of 
 you, wondering if you were preaching that day, and 
 wishing that I might hear your voice either in public 
 or private discourse. I felt my wish half realized, 
 when I found upon my table a white envelope with the 
 Frankfort post-mark, especially as I saw the envelope 
 was well filled. Again yesterday a similar experience 
 was repeated. I am glad you accepted mother's invi- 
 
LETTER THIRTY-THEEE. 307 
 
 tation to spend Christmas with her, as she would have 
 been lonely without some company to keep her from 
 missing me and Vachel too much. I know she enjoyed 
 the chestnuts you got for her in the mountains. This 
 nut grows abundantly in Italy ; but it is a larger 
 species, not fit to eat without cooking. We have them 
 roasted to eat with butter about twice a week for lunch. 
 The poor peasants live almost entirely upon them, 
 making from them a kind of meal which they convert 
 into bread. 
 
 Both of your letters abound in questions which I will 
 proceed to answer. You inquire about my teaching 
 next year. I have written to an educational bureau, 
 to aid me in securing a place, and where they may see 
 fit to place me, I can not guess. It is, however, nec- 
 essary that I should teach ; moreover, I think another 
 year of this invaluable discipline would give more 
 maturity to my mental faculties. I should like to begin 
 as soon as expedient to teach you German ; but I am 
 sure you could not afford to pay for my services as 
 much as my circumstances would demand. I do not 
 doubt, that in your impatience to begin, you feel able 
 and willing to meet all demands ; but since you can 
 not see the imprudence of such a course, I must see 
 for you, and forbid your taking such responsibilities 
 upon yourself. You see, should I become your 
 teacher, there must be a certain outfit procured, which 
 only money can purchase. When I come back to 
 America, it will be with an empty purse, and my first 
 pressing duty must be to replenish it by the work of 
 
308 FORETHOUGHT. 
 
 my hands or mind. Perhaps you would willingly 
 advance my whole year's salary? Yes, but I should 
 consider it improper to accept such an offer — not only 
 improper, but absolutely wrong. You must remember, 
 when you have once engaged me as teacher, you must 
 retain my services for life, and each year you must 
 give me respectable support. Should you pay me too 
 much the first year, you might find it more difficult to 
 furnish the requisite sum in subsequent years. You 
 could never be content, if you had to make me put up 
 with too meager a support; the thought of your 
 inability to do more would trouble you : and if your 
 mind were thus disturbed, how could you preach? 
 Now, don't think I am producing these arguments, for 
 the sake of having you reduce them to fallacies ; I am 
 very much in earnest, because I know my own pecun- 
 iary circumstances, and know no way to better them 
 except by a year's work. So much on the subject of 
 teaching. Perhaps you will think me unkind; I 
 assure you it is not so intended. After the year's 
 teaching, I should like six months at home, by which 
 time I should be a little past twenty-five. Am I dis- 
 appointing you? I would not cause you a moment's 
 pain, if I did not think by so doing I may save us both 
 from what might be a life-time of anxiety as to our 
 worldly affairs. If you think I am wrong in thus look- 
 ing out for the morrow, prove it to me by scriptural 
 arguments. I believe Providence takes care of the 
 sparrow ; but the tiny bird would wait long for her 
 nest if she did not use her measure of forethought in 
 
LETTER THIRTY-THREE. 309 
 
 collecting the necessary materials, and putting them 
 properly together. The lilies are beautifully arrayed 
 without spinning, but that is because they do not know 
 how to spin. 
 
 Now that your letter is answered, I will tell you how 
 we spent the last afternoon of the " Old Year'* At 
 ten minutes to two, Kate, Miss Shaw, and myself 
 repaired to the narrow Piazza del Olio, from which a 
 certin omnibus was to start at two. In order to reach 
 this piazza, we went to the Baptistery and turning 
 to the left, passed under an arch which formed the en- 
 trance to one of the markets. It was a busy scene 
 through which we had to pass. An old woman on one 
 side was frying polenta, or mush, the only article of 
 food they make from Indian corn; opposite, a man 
 with equal industry, stirred his roasting chestnuts ; a 
 wheelbarrow laden with cauliflowers, potatoes, onions, 
 and various unknown vegetables, hemmed in the way; 
 white muttons with one beheaded, but unskinned, 
 black lamb, hung in ghastly array fron a rude pole 
 supported by two forks. At each stall, buyers were 
 making noisy bargains with sellers ; but we didn't take 
 time to translate their chatterinaj. 
 
 Out on the piazza we found our "bus'* not yet 
 ready to start, so Miss S. ran back to buy ten centimes^ 
 worth of chestnuts. We got into the vehicle, and 
 dreaded every minute lest the driver should crack his 
 whip and leave our friend ; but our anxiety was use- 
 less, for she returned with a paper of warm nuts, we 
 leisurely ate the last one, and still he didn't start. 
 
310 A TRIP TO FIESOLE. 
 
 We were quite impatient at his delay, especially as his 
 object seemed to be to crowd us in as much as possible. 
 I was already bounded on the west by an old, tooth- 
 less, sallow-faced, turbaned contadina, who had a little 
 porcelaine basket (scaldino they call them), filled with 
 coals, and I was afraid she would spill the fire on my best 
 dress ; on the north, I was in as intimate contact with 
 an old man, whose enormous red nose seemed set as- a 
 guard over his thin white mustache — and yet the 
 driver waited until there was no longer an inch of room 
 in which to stow away another such specimen. Two 
 mischievous-eyed urchins took possession of the back 
 step, and for two squares retained it in easy security, 
 when the driver suddenly flourished his whip in such 
 a way as to wrap it around their legs. They jumped 
 down each with an angry frown on his brow ; but, 
 when they heard us laughing, with the easy good 
 nature of Italians, they joined in our merriment. 
 
 At a rapid pace we trotted along the Via San Gallo, 
 and paused before the old gate to gain more recruits 
 for the top of the vehicle. This gave us time to 
 observe a triumphal arch to Grand Duke Francis II., 
 which is built of stone and ornamented with statuary. 
 Crack went the whip again, and off we drove to the 
 right by the Via Quercia — at least the guide-book 
 said that was its name, but I saw no oak trees to 
 justify the title. From this we turned to the left, and 
 began to climb the hill ; but the high garden walls on 
 either side quite shut out the view. At one point, 
 however, a long three-story building took the place of 
 
LETTER THIRTY-THREE. 311 
 
 the wall, and this the man with the nose and mustache 
 said was a college. Still further on, some Christian 
 has torn away the wall on the left, and put in its 
 place an open iron fence, which does not obstruct the 
 view. This was fortunate, for the road here overlooks 
 the green valley of the Mugnone, a tributary to the 
 Arno, and down in this very valley is a villa surrounded 
 by tall cypress trees, and gleaming in the sunlight. 
 But the interest of this villa is borrowed from some- 
 thing more than intrinsic beauty — it is derived from 
 association with Boccaccio's pen. It is the Villa Pal- 
 mieri, the scene of his " Decamerona," which is the 
 phototype of Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales," and of 
 Longfellow's " Tales of the Wayside Inn." Only an 
 instant did we see it, when the monotony of stone 
 walls again tore it from our view. 
 
 At about half past two our omnibus halted at San 
 Dominico, half way to Fiesole. This is the place 
 where Fra Ansrelico lived before he was called to take 
 up his abode at San Marco. We shook the door of his 
 old church, but it wouldn't yield, so we failed to see the 
 angels hidden by its antiquated walls. From here we 
 had to walk, and immediately we were beset by a blind 
 beggar. We resisted his appeal, and it was well we 
 did ; for we had not lost sight of him before a tattered 
 coat and hat appeared around the next corner. Off 
 came the greasy hat, and off went the tongue in a 
 mechanical string of afflictions. There was no need, 
 however, to spend all our loose change on him, for on 
 came another not twenty yards behind. Some of 
 
312 THE OLD CATHEDRAL. 
 
 them were comfortably clad, and one had a full bag on 
 his back, so I do not think begging was his regular 
 business. He just thought he would make a mite off 
 of a stranger, if possible. 
 
 At last we stood before the old Cathedral of Fiesole, 
 but we were yet pursued. The one occupation of this 
 people is plaiting straw, and a whole swarm of women 
 surrounded us with aprons full of their work. Pretty 
 little baskets and airy little fans they stuck in our 
 faces, praising their beauty and cheapness. It was 
 useless to tell them we wanted no such articles; we 
 got rid of them only by entering the Cathedral. 
 
 Fiesole is an old Etruscan city of eleven thousand 
 inhabitants. It was founded long before Florence, 
 and till 1010 was its superior in strength. The Cathe- 
 dral was founded in 1028, and has been little changed. 
 Like San Miniato, its choir is raised above the nave, 
 and below it is a place of burial. There is a tomb of 
 a bishop, and an altar piece in marble relief on the 
 right of the choir, and a terra cotta image of St. Romu- 
 lus over the door, but they are of no great artistic 
 merit. 
 
 From this place we went to look at the fragment of 
 Etruscan wall, which is still preserved. So massive 
 are the stones it must have taken ponderous battering- 
 rams to shake them. To the top of the hill we were 
 followed by the fan women, and as we tried to look at 
 Florence far below, like a gem set in marble and 
 emeralds, they stuck their wares before our eyes, thus 
 shutting out the panorama. As another pest, an old 
 
LETTER THIRTY-THREE. 313 
 
 hag came tottering to meet us, having in her hand an 
 immense key. She wanted to show us the pagan 
 antiquities — she looked as if she might be one her- 
 self — she said they were in the little church of S. 
 AUessandro, just in front of us, and of which she had 
 the key. The fan women wouldn't let us enjoy the 
 view. The guide-book said this church occupied the 
 site of a heathen temple ; so we were duped into fol- 
 lowing the old witch. As she was turning the key she 
 pointed to a box-like, marble arrangement on the out- 
 side of which was an altar formerly used in the service 
 of Bacchus. This proved to be the only antiquity 
 about the premises, and, as it was outside, we could 
 have seen it quite as well without her help. It is 
 true there were seven Ionic columns of cipollino sup- 
 porting the arches of the nave, but she had led us to 
 expect quite a museum of relics. We were sold, but 
 not to any great amount, for we gave her only about 
 one cent each — hardly enough to pay her for burden- 
 ing her conscience with the falsehood. We had said 
 ^^Buon gioriio" (good day) to the women of straw, 
 as we entered the church, and they had taken the hint 
 and disappeared. But we were yet far from being 
 alone. About twenty school-boys, with two young 
 monks, their teachers, were covering the terrace, and 
 their fun quite distracted my thoughts from the land- 
 scape. 
 
 Kate's field-glass, however, shut out these near 
 objects, and I shall never forget the picture. Perhaps 
 the view was not so beautiful as that from San Mini- 
 
314 A SUNSET SCENE. 
 
 atxD, but its vast extent gave it more of grandeur. 
 Florence is encircled by hills rising one behind the 
 other, till seven rows may be counted. On the east, 
 to our left, lay the mountains of the Casentino, glow- 
 ing pink under the final glance of the sun ; to the right 
 the heights of Monte Albano, with the white tops of 
 Carrara rising behind them. (These last are the 
 mountains from which sculptors obtain their favorite 
 white marble.) The nearness of the sun to the hori- 
 zon admonished us that we must be on our way back 
 to the city. We were not half way down the hill when 
 Ihe golden ball sank behind the opposite point. I shall 
 never forget this sunset of the last day of 1875. There 
 was not a cloud to catch the tints and make one of 
 those gorgeous skies we so often see at home ; but the 
 whole atmosphere seemed dissolved in rainbow hues. 
 Every hill-top was etherealized by this wondrous light, 
 till they themselves seemed a part of the sky. By 
 feeble words I can never give you an idea of its soft 
 beauty, not even a painter could do it. You should 
 see it for yourself, as I hope you may some day. 
 
 From looking at the sun we turned to the right, 
 where a high wall fringed at the top with daisies 
 tempted us to impatience. Miss Shaw was tall enough 
 to reach these, and could hand us the tiny sun wor- 
 shipers ; but who wants some one else to gather flowers 
 for her when she can almost grasp them herself ? 
 Luckily a broken place in the wall gave me a foothold, 
 and by a desperate spring I gained a handful of the 
 
LETTER THIRTY-THREE. 315 
 
 darling things. I send you one of these, together with 
 a leaf from one of the thousands of olive trees which 
 cover the hills and valley. Miss Shaw calls them Fra 
 Angelico's daisies, for their ancestors served as models 
 for those which appear in his foregrounds. 
 
 The school-boys whom we had left on the hill soon 
 ovartook us, and kept directly in front of us all the 
 way to the college before mentioned. They seemed 
 so fond of their jolly young monk teachers, so happy, 
 so free from care, it gave me pleasure to look into 
 their bright young faces ; but I wish they had teachers 
 who could instruct them more wisely. 
 
 It was quite dark when we reached the edge of the 
 city, and we were not quite certain which way to turn. 
 We asked a man where to find the Cathedral, and he 
 said, " By Giotti's Tower." Of course, we knew this 
 already, but we were quite as ignorant of its where- 
 abouts as of that of the Cathedral. The man pointed 
 straight ahead, though, so we kept on till we recog- 
 nized the outline of the Triumphal Arch, by which we 
 knew we were right. In the first piazza we took a 
 carriage, said to the driver, " Via Maggio, venti otto " 
 (twenty-eight), and soon after we were drinking tea in 
 our room. 
 
 I did intend to tell you of our excursion to Bello 
 Sguardo on Christmas Day, but four sheets are quite 
 as much as my envelope will hold. The view is not 
 very different from that of Fiesole, except Florence is 
 not so distant, and you are faced by Mount Morello on 
 
316 FLOKENCE. 
 
 the north instead of the seven lines of southern hills. 
 I have written this during conversations in which I 
 have myself occasionally taken part, so you must not 
 criticise. Eudora. 
 
 LETTER XXXIY. 
 
 Florence, January 9, 1876. 
 
 Dear Elijah: 
 
 OUE letter came a few days since, and as it is not 
 often I have the privilege of responding to your 
 written sentiments, I will do so without delay. I am 
 glad to hear that my apphcation reached you in safety. 
 I am anxious to secure a good situation for next year. 
 You think it will be very hard for me to spend another 
 year among strangers? You had thought I would try 
 teaching next year on a different scale ? Oh I well, a 
 year is not a very long time, after all. I lived through 
 six months of the last amid the difficulties of an Illi- 
 nois district school with very little congenial society ; 
 half of the present period of separation is gone, leav- 
 ing me well in body and improved in mind; if I find 
 plenty of work to do, next year will be no longer. 
 Should any answer to my application come to hand 
 while I am yet abroad, send me immediately a copy of 
 it — not the thing itself, lest it should be lost. 
 
LETTER TlilRTY-rOUK. 317 
 
 You will, no doubt, be surprised to see that we are 
 still in Florence. It was our intention to leave a week 
 ago for Eome, but V. wrote us word we needn't be in 
 a hurry. Besides, Kate had not yet quite finished her 
 picture, and there were a few things of interest still 
 un visited. It is now fixed that we are to start Tuesday 
 morning. You needn't be uneasy about us on this 
 journey, for we shall be only a day on the road, and 
 we are to be well supplied with company. We 
 selected from the guide-book the address of a house in 
 Rome, wrote on, and engaged rooms; I told the Aus- 
 tralian and his lady of the arrangement, whereupon 
 they concluded to go to the same pension ; they spoke 
 of it to " Chicago " and his wife, so we are all to go 
 together. "Chicago" is an old gentleman whose 
 real name is Dr. Carr; but, as he calls me "Ken- 
 tucky,"- I have a right to name him from his city. He 
 affords us all much amusement. He came here two 
 weeks ago, and I happened to be sitting in the parlor 
 when he first entered. 
 
 " This is an American lady," said Mrs. J. 
 
 " How are you, Ameriky ! " he exclaimed, coming 
 forward and shaking hands as if I were an old friend. 
 His wife greeted me more quietly, but no less cor- 
 dially. Then the old Doctor began to tell me how 
 homesick he was. 
 
 " I can't speak a word of the language. I've been 
 over here before, and finished every cathedral and 
 picture gallery. I'm tired to death of churches with 
 Madonnas, Holy Families, Saint Sebastians, and such 
 
318 "CHICAGO," 
 
 like. I can see all I want of any palace or collection 
 of paintings in five minutes, but my wife has a morbid 
 appetite for such things. She took a notion she 
 wanted to see the Pope this time; so I've brought her 
 back to please her. These houses are so cold ; I'm out 
 of all patience ! ' ' 
 
 You see, now, what a state he is in. He is, no 
 doubt, an active man at home, and skillful in his pro- 
 fession ; but he knows nothing of art, and cares less. 
 He is too old to form a taste for such things now ; so it 
 is only a punishment for him to stay here. His wife, 
 though a woman of sixty, takes great delight in them, 
 and walks from one end of the city to the other in 
 search of novelties. She says she has faithfully reared 
 a large family of children (twelve in all), and she has 
 earned the privilege of enjoying herself in her later 
 years. They do not know how to save their money in 
 traveling. To be sure, they have plenty of it, but 
 they would not willfully waste it. For going to 
 Fiesole they paid two dollars ; for the same trip we 
 paid twenty cents. For seven dollars she bought a lit- 
 tle locket of Florentine mosaic ; for six Kate bought 
 one much handsomer. Every shopman, carriage 
 driver, or porter, will cheat you, if he can; you must 
 keep your eyes open and trust nobody. At home the 
 Doctor is doubtless a shrewd manager, but here, he is 
 a mere child. He is, however, very considerate of 
 ladies, and would knock a fellow down if he were im- 
 pudent to one under his charge, so we feel quite safe 
 under his protection. I shall have to do all the talking 
 
LETTER THIRTY-FOUE. 319 
 
 for the party though, for not one of them can speak 
 French. 
 
 This week has been a very busy one in the way of 
 sight seeing, that is, since Monday, which was too bad 
 for going out. You ask about the weather. We have 
 had a good deal of rain, one or two days when the 
 ground was slightly frozen, and finally a snow of two 
 or three inches. We think this is quite naughty be- 
 havior on the part of an Italian climate ; but it is indeed 
 far better than we are used to. Since Dr. Carr has 
 been with us, he keeps the stove always full of wood, 
 and halloos at everybody passing in or out, " Shetthat 
 door ! " so the parlor is quite comfortable. 
 
 I want to tell you of some games with which we have 
 entertained ourselves some evenings when we had the 
 time to leave our rooms. One of these I will describe, 
 as our English friends say it is an amusement they 
 always allow their children oq Christmas night. They 
 call it •' Snap-dragon." Being invited to participate, 
 we assembled with the rest in the dining-room, which 
 was quite dark. 
 
 *' Stand around the table," said Miss Frodsham. 
 
 We did so, and a second after a blue light darted up 
 from its center. The light spread, till we could see the 
 outline of a large white dish. 
 
 " Snatch the raisins out ! " said Miss F. and setting 
 the example, she thrust her hands among the flames, 
 and filled her mouth with the still blazing sweetmeats. 
 
 Of course they were only covered with brandy, to 
 which a lighted match had been touched ; but it seemed 
 
320 CHRISTMAS GAMES. 
 
 rather marvelous that they were not too hot to be 
 eaten. When the dish was emptied, sombody poured 
 in more brandy which made a great blaze again. 
 
 " Look at your faces ! Look at your faces ! " cried 
 Miss F. ; but, as we couldn't look at our own faces, 
 each looked at his neighbor's and laughed outright. I 
 never saw such a ghastly group, such was the effect of 
 the light. But the merriment was interrupted by a 
 shriek from Miss Skey. The dish had been tilted to 
 one side, and there she stood seemingly enveloped in 
 the burning liquid. An instant afterward it was 
 smothered out ; but had her dress been anything but 
 silk, she might have been seriously injured. I do not 
 advise you to try this game ; I only describe it because 
 they say it is an English custom. 
 
 I can recommend to you a new edition of "Blind- 
 fold," which they call " Post." The company is seated 
 in a large circle around the room, while the " blind- 
 man " stands in the middle. Each person, except the 
 postman, assumes the name of some town or post- 
 office. The postman takes the list of names, and 
 directs the movements of the party. '* The mail 
 passes between Glencoe and Londpn," says he, which 
 obliges me to exchange places with my opposite 
 neighbor, and as we cross the floor the blind man tries 
 to catch us. He has only to touch one of us, when we 
 must take his place. Once in a while the postman 
 says, "General post!" when every one must find 
 another seat. Try this sometime with a party' of 
 
LETTER THIETY-rOUE. 321 
 
 young folks whose conversational powers seem to flag, 
 and you will find it quite enlivening. 
 
 Hitherto, I have told you only of my work; but this 
 time my two sheets are filled with my play. It is very 
 seldom that I spend time in this way; but I do not 
 like to be unsocial, when a harmless recreation is pro- 
 posed. Among such a number of persons there are 
 always some whose time hangs heavy on their hands. 
 These devised a new method of amusement one even- 
 ing last week. Mrs. Carr happened to remark that 
 she was a medium, and at once the " coffee pot woman " 
 was wild to set the tables turning. I felt no desire to 
 waste my time sitting with my hands on the table 
 waiting for it to turn ; so I went for the Australian 
 and his wife to complete the circle without me. They 
 sat with their hands spread out till the table was 
 encircled by a row of fingers in contact with each othffl:. 
 Patiently they sat and waited, and their patience was 
 rewarded ; for.after the expiration of an hour, the table 
 began to turn, advancing at the same time around the 
 room. We lookers-on said they were pushing, but 
 when they all withdrew except one, and he kept it going 
 with the tip of one finger, we had to believe. Mrs. 
 Carr attributes this phenomenon to magnetism without 
 any interference of the spirits. This is enough of such 
 nonsense, so with the request that you write soon, I 
 am EuDOEA. 
 
 21 
 
322 RETROSPECTION. 
 
 LETTER XXXY. 
 
 KoME, January 14, 1876. 
 Dear Brother Graham : 
 
 'OU will see by the post-mark that we have left 
 Florence ; or perhapsyour thought will be, "Dora 
 and Kate are really in Kome." Well, no doubt it is 
 a grand thing to be within fifteen minutes' walk of the 
 Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Forum, and many an- 
 other enduring monument of the past; but just now 
 my heart goes irresistibly back to Florence. We spent 
 a whole week in bidding adieu to scenes which have 
 become endeared to us during the last two months. 
 We followed the winding road to Bello Sguardo, to 
 watch once more the struggle of each familiar spire, 
 for the last ray of the sun, and the final conquest of 
 Mount Morello's double peak over all. We climbed 
 the opposite height of Fiesole, that with the halo of 
 mellow rainbow tints reflected from the hills beyond, 
 we might behold the Florence of the poet's pen and the 
 painter's brush. We stood once more before the me- 
 morial piles, which hide beneath the ashes of Angelo, 
 Brunellesco, Cellini, and Giotto; we lingered long be- 
 fore the works in which their spirits still live. If you 
 had been with us all this time in Florence, you, too, 
 
LETTER THIRTY-FIVE. 32 3 
 
 would have thought of leaving there with regret, which, 
 having even Kome as a destination, could not prevent. 
 But often an event which we anticipate with sentiments 
 of sadness comes laden with more practical demands. 
 We consumed the whole da}^ Monday in selecting stere- 
 oscopic views and photographs ; so the dinner hour 
 (six p. ih. ) found us tired, and with the duty of packing 
 trunks still before us. Next time we come to Europe 
 we'll know how to prepare for it ; but when one has 
 an unnecessary amount of baggage, the annoyance of 
 taking care of it must be endured. We had deter- 
 mined to leave one trunk in care of Mrs. Jennings, 
 but it, too, had to be packed. 
 
 We went to work with all the patience at our com- 
 mand ; but were not half finished when a rapping at 
 our door was followed by a voice protesting against 
 our spending this last evening in our room. 
 
 " You must come to the drawing-room ; everybody 
 is waiting for you," said the voice. No excuse would 
 be accepted, and besides, we wanted to be sociable ; 
 so we let our trunks rest for an hour, till we could 
 exchange a few last words with our fellow-boarders. 
 The occupants of our pension have changed somewhat 
 since our first arrival. The old bachelor has gone back 
 to Scotland, where no doubt he still pours his own 
 coffee. 
 
 Signor M. has become the husband of his Catholic 
 sweetheart, and has gone with her too far away for us 
 to know whether or not she has rescued him from 
 heresy. The *' coffee-pot woman" and the ''old 
 
324 READY TO DEPART. 
 
 maid '* were, however, amoDg those who desired our 
 presence in the parlor, from which you may infer that 
 they have become good friends of ours. 
 
 At a very late hour everything was ready; the last 
 strap buckled, and we were composing ourselves for a 
 few hours* sleep. There was no time then for sad 
 musing upon to-morrow's departure, nor did the morn- 
 ing afford more leisure. The cabs were at the door by 
 half past seven , and in a few minutes we were at the 
 depot. There were six of us: a gentleman and his 
 wife, from Chicago, another couple from Australia, 
 Kate and myself./ The Chicago gentleman had one of 
 Cook's tickets on which his way to Eome was marked 
 out by two hours longer than the direct route. To a 
 tourist who wants to see the country this would have 
 been very agreeable, but Dr. C. declares " Italy's a 
 grand humbug," and he's going to see as little of 
 it as his wife will let him. 
 
 *< But here's this old ticket that I've got to follow: 
 I'll throw it away when I get to Eome and take one by 
 the shortest road to Paris," said he in exasperation. 
 A half dozen words of such broken French as I could 
 command elicited from the agent a momentary quietus 
 for his excited nerves. He could go with us by the short 
 way. Our tickets were at last purchased, and we were 
 in the cars, when the Doctor perceived a new cause of 
 complaint — a just one this time. He had given the 
 baggage agent fifty francs for which he had re- 
 ceived ten francs less than the proper change. 
 He dashed back into the depot, thus throwing his wife 
 
LETTER THIRTr-rrVE. 325 
 
 into a state of anxiety lest he should be left ; but his 
 English storming had but very little effect upon the 
 Italian rascal. 
 
 " Next time count your change," was the consoling 
 advice of his wife, as he seated himself again all out of 
 breath ; and this is the moral of the whole story. 
 Every agent will cheat, if you give him a chance, and 
 that shows the state of Italian morals. They think it 
 no harm to cheat, at least they are not ashamed of it 
 when they are detected. We bought some apples the 
 other day on the street, for which we understood we 
 were to pay ten centimes, 
 
 "Another ten," he said; I gave it. 
 
 "Another yet," said he, still holding out his hand. 
 I saw now that he supposed me ignorant of the value 
 of the coin, and intended to get all he could. Instantly 
 I took back what I had already given him , and Kate 
 began pouring the apples back into his basket. 
 
 " Oh I no, no," he exclaimed, and laughingly 
 expressed his willingness to accept what we had offered 
 to give. But I must return to our journey. 
 
 Our road led us along a valley, or rather a succession 
 of valleys, for the Arno gave place to the Chiana, the 
 Chiana to the Paglia, and this last to the Tiber. On 
 either hand rise the green but treeless peaks of the 
 Apennine's while the low land is already giving promise 
 of its triple crop of olives, grapes, and wheat. Old 
 Etruscan cities occur at intervals, interesting from their 
 antiquity and their history. As we approached Arezzo , 
 we found the ground covered with some inches of 
 
326 ARRIVAL AT ROME. 
 
 snow, which gave the Doctor a new proof that Italy is 
 a humbug. 
 
 *' The further south we go the colder we find it — 
 Oh ! yes, Italy is the place to spend the winter — and 
 reeze, too," he added. Further on the snow aofain 
 disappeared and the rain began pattering against the 
 windows. - 
 
 *' See that," said the Doctor again; " I told you so. 
 It'll be raining all the time — every one of us'U have 
 the fever — just the weather for it — better take some 
 of my quinine," and he passed a bottle of the bitter 
 stuff around. His quinine is scarcely more bitter, 
 however, than his disposition to make the worst of 
 everything. Arrived at Eome, a new difficulty pre- 
 sented itself. We were immediately surrounded by 
 the usual swarm of hotel drummers, among whom I 
 found the one sent to meet us. I told him where to 
 take us, and felt sure that all was going right; but the 
 Doctor could not understand what the fellow said, and 
 was disposed to believe that the omnibus was taking us 
 anywhere except to Madam Lavigne's. Despite his 
 predictions, however, we were set down at the right 
 door, and directed to ascend to the third " etage^ At 
 the head of the first flight Mrs. C. declared herself 
 out of breath ; at the head of the second she was so 
 exhausted that she could only scold ; on the third land- 
 ing stood Madame Lavigne, smilingly waiting to re- 
 ceive us. She took my hand and asked my name, 
 then turned to treat the rest with similar courtesy, but 
 they did not notice her. 
 
LETTER THIRTY-FIVE. 327 
 
 "I think this is^ getting mighty near to heaven,", 
 said Doctor C, in his most boisterous tone. Mrs. C. 
 sank down upon the first chair, with the exclamation, 
 "Oh, I can't stay here! I can't stand these steps ! 
 If I'd known it was this high I never wouklhave come." 
 Madame Lavigne was the picture of astonishment but 
 a lady does not easily lose her presence of mind. She 
 explained through me that they had engaged her rooms 
 without inquiring about the stairs, and she did not 
 think to mention it. By dint of much persuasion I in- 
 duced Mrs. C. to look at the rooms, and candor con- 
 strained her to admit she was pleased with them. 
 
 It is now Thursday night, and both she and her hus- 
 band are well satisfied with Madam Lavigne. Had 
 they waited until now to express their opinion, they 
 need not have been rude to the lady ; they need not 
 have confirmed the reputation our people have of be- 
 ing boisterous. There was such a striking contrast be- 
 tween their excited manner and the calm polish of our 
 landlady, that I began to believe the French, indeed, 
 models of true politeness. But, yesterday, I was 
 again made skeptical upon this head. We went to call 
 on a friend who is staying at one of the most fashion- 
 able and most expensive pensions in the city. 
 
 "Is Madam R. in this house," I inquired of the 
 landlady. 
 
 " Madam R. ? " she repeated curtly ; " No." 
 
 " She told me this was her address," I insisted. 
 
 " What's the name? " she asked again, impatiently. 
 
 ** Madam R.," I repeated. " Oh ! " she exclaimed, 
 
328 FRENCH MANISTERS. 
 
 *' Madam E., and she rolled the «« r " as only a French 
 woman can ; and in a tone of contempt she rehearsed 
 for me my faulty pronunciation. It happened our 
 friend was not in, so we asked the privilege of leaving 
 our cards. 
 
 " Yes, you can leave them if you will hand them to 
 the servant," and she drew herself up with offended 
 dignity, to think I should ask of her so menial an 
 office. My opinion now is that nationality does not 
 make ladies or gentlemen, but that one who studies 
 the happiness of others can not fail in gentility. 
 
 But you are perhaps wondering what I have seen of 
 Eome. Well, I'll tell you. The first evening I was 
 at the table there hung on the wall in front of me a 
 full-length portrait, from which I could scarcely take 
 my eyes. The face is made sweet by a pair of calm 
 blue eyes and a pair of gently smiling lips. His 
 white hair appears as soft and silky as the satin cap 
 which conceals a greater part of the shining locks ; a 
 long white robe, confined by a golden girdle, and a 
 pair of crimson slippers complete the figure. You 
 can, no doubt, guess the original of this picture which 
 proved so fascinating to me. 
 
 *' Isn't the Holy Father a handsome man?" asked 
 a little dwarf opposite me. My admiration was too 
 .evident to require oral expression. But I began to 
 realize that I was in a house with many Catholics, in 
 whose estimation this was indeed the '■'■Holy Father." 
 A conversation ensued, in which it appeared that sev- 
 eral of the English were on the side of the Pope. 
 
LETTER THIRTY-SIX. 329 
 
 They do not consider Victor Emanuel a wise rruler 
 than Pius IX.; on the contrary, they say he has 
 oppressed the poor with taxes ; and besides, he has 
 greatly reduced the number of visitors who formerly 
 came to Rome to attend the public ceremonies of the 
 church. Since his humiliation the Pope never takes 
 part in these festivals, so the people have lost interest 
 in them. There is an Italian in the room talking 
 about his views of Catholicism, and I want to hear, so 
 I will close. EuDORA. 
 
 LETTER XXXYI. 
 
 Rome, January 1, 1876. 
 Dear Brother ITich: 
 
 P^ SPENT a whole hour yesterday in the Sistine 
 (^ Chapel, and I was so impressed with the grandeur 
 of the whole design that I wish you to know something 
 about it. Italy is a new world to me, and a world full 
 of such wondrous beauty that I wish to share it with 
 every one who is dear to me. The Sistine Chapel is a 
 part of the great Vatican, one of its eleven thousand 
 rooms. It was erected under Sixtus IV. (1473), and 
 from this pope it gets its name. It is one hundred 
 and thirty-three feet long, forty-five feet wide, and 
 the whole ceiling and walls are covered with frescoes 
 
330 SISTINE CHAPEL. 
 
 by that unparalleled artist, Michael Angelo. These 
 frescoes portray the whole history of man from the 
 creation to the last judgment. The ceiling is divided 
 into rectangular panels in which are painted four 
 scenes from Creation, the Banishment from Eden and 
 the Deluge. Clustered around this central portion 
 are prophets and sibyls who foretell the coming of him 
 who will lift man up by redeeming him from sin. In 
 the four corners are most striking instances of the 
 providence of God in saving his people from some 
 threatened destruction : The Brazen Serpent, David 
 and Goliath, the Hanging of Haman, and Judith with 
 the head of Holifernes. I don't know whether or not 
 you ever read the story of Judith. It is in one of the 
 apocryphal books between Malachi and Matthew. I 
 read all those books when a child, and they are often 
 the source of scenes represented by the Old Masters. 
 Next to the prophets and sybils are various biblical 
 illustrations, which fill out the space to the wall. Then 
 come rather dim portraits of twenty-eight " Holy 
 Fathers," which fit the vertical strips between the 
 windows. Below these are rectangular groups by 
 various artists. On the right, Moses and Zipporah on 
 their way to Egypt are met by an angel who bids him 
 circumcise his infant son ; opposite is the baptism of 
 Christ. Again, on the right, Moses slays the Egyp- 
 tian , which leads him to withdraw from that idolatrous 
 race; opposite, Christ triumphs over Satan in the 
 Temptation. Right, Pharaoh and his host are over- 
 whelmed in the Red Sea; left, the calling of Peter 
 
LETTER THIRTY-SIX. 331 
 
 and Andrew, whose mission it is to lead men from the 
 bondage of sin. Lastly, on the right, Moses receives 
 the law from Mt. Sinai; and on the left, Christ is 
 putting into this law a new spirit by his Sermon on 
 the Mount. At one end, side by side, are the Kesur- 
 rection of Jesus, and the dispute of the Archangel and 
 Satan over the body of Moses. The remaining end is 
 covered with the much-spoken of Last Judgment. To 
 describe this would be impossible ; but perhaps I can 
 give you some idea of its design. The central figure is 
 Christ transformed from the gentle Teacher on the 
 Mount to the unrelenting Judge. On his face is no 
 shadow of mercy or pity; the hour for repentance is 
 past, his long-suffering is at an end. The Virgin sits 
 beside the throne, and veils her eyes from the sadden- 
 ing scene. At the bottom, on the left, the dead are 
 rising from their graves with slow, half-wakened 
 motions, and as they try to rise fiends seize upon them 
 and draw them towards a cave with horridly gaping 
 mouth ; but angels overcome these evil demons by tear- 
 ing from their foul grasp those who are to be of the 
 blest. Some are already safe on the Judge's right 
 hand ; but they seem to be yet uncertain of their sal- 
 vation. On the left, crowds of martyred saints witness 
 against their persecutors, who, with satanic impudence, 
 are trying to force their way into Heaven. St. Bar- 
 tholomew shows the skin which was stripped by them 
 from his body; St. Catherine presents the wheel by 
 which she was crushed ; St. Lawrence brings forth the 
 gridiron over which he was roasted; St. Peter holds 
 
332 FEESCO WORK 
 
 out the keys which prove his right to deny these evil 
 ones admittance. Every shade of emotion, from 
 despairing disappointment to demoniac rage, fills the 
 faces of the rejected, and one may imagine the variety 
 of attitudes into which their precipitated bodies are 
 thrown. As they fall into the hands of Charon, the 
 grim old boatman rows them to the other shore, then 
 applying his oar as a scourge, he drives them from 
 the boat upon the burning sands. Angelo revels in the 
 ability to paint the forcible play of well-developed 
 muscles, and in this picture he has largely indulged this 
 taste. He cares not for beauty of face, and in no case 
 except that of the Delphic and Libyan sibyls, and that of 
 the newly-created Eve, has he indulged this weakness. 
 The other sibyls and prophets, however, are simply 
 so grand as to require no aid from mere beauty. Oh ! 
 that I could have seen this chapel when fresh from its 
 master's hand. Kate suggests that perhaps this pict- 
 ure has led to the deifying of Mary; that the people 
 looking upon this representation of her tenderness, 
 have finally learned to think that such an intercessor is 
 needed between man and Christ. I don't know how long 
 since the worship of the Virgin began ; but her equality 
 with God was never affirmed by decree till 1854. 
 There is in St. Peter's a tablet making this statement, 
 and in one of the public squares is a lofty monument 
 in memory of the decree. This view of Mary invests 
 her with all the loving, gentle attributes of Christ, 
 leaving Him with all the severity with which Angelo 
 represents him. 
 
 The paipting of the Sistine Chapel was done under 
 
LETTER THIRTY-SIX. 333 
 
 Pope Julius II. of whom Eaphael has painted so life- 
 like a portrait, that I feel as if personally acquainted 
 with the fiery old man. He sent to Florence for An- 
 gelo, and would take no denial to his request that this 
 artist should adorn with appropriate designs the chapel 
 in which only he, the ruling pope, could officiate. 
 
 "But I am a sculptor," said Angelo, "and no 
 painter." 
 
 " Painter or not," answered Julius, " you must cover 
 this chapel with frescoes . " 
 
 " I am under promise for as much work as I can do 
 for along time ; get you a painter to work in colors- 
 I prefer sculpture," again rejoined Angelo. 
 
 But it was no use to dissent. Julius II. knew no law 
 but his own will, and to this the artist had to yield. 
 After much delay, he selected some half dozen assist- 
 ants, had the scaffolds erected, and began. But the 
 great genius watched with impatience the movements 
 of these mediocres ; day by day, his own progress was 
 hindered by this irresistible impatience. At last, his 
 assistants came one morning to find the chapel door 
 closed upon them, when they took the hint and de- 
 parted to their homes in Florence. It then became 
 agreed that nobody except a color-grinder and the Pope 
 himself should come upon the scaifold, the one to pre- 
 pare necessary materials, the other to urge on the work 
 by his impatience. Almost daily, the " Holy Father" 
 climbed up on the scaffold, and at the end of a year, he 
 one day exclaimed : — 
 
 " When will this thing come to an end?" 
 
 " Whenever I can finish it," was the cool reply of 
 
334 DESIGNS BY ANGELO. 
 
 Angelo, who never felt much awe in the presence of 
 the " Infallible." 
 
 "Do you want me to throw you down from this 
 platform? " cried Julius in d towering rage. 
 
 Angelo was not afraid of being literally hurled from 
 the scaffold; but now that his heart was in the work, 
 he did not wish another to take it from him ; so,tQ 
 appease the Pope he consented to let the Eoman peo- 
 ple see what he had done. In all the dust of removing 
 the scaffold the Pope remained gazing upon the half 
 finished ceiling, and on All-Saints' Day, all Eome was 
 allowed that privilege. 
 
 « ' You have omitted one thing, ' ' said the Pope ; ' ' you 
 have put no golden crowns on the heads of the saints." 
 
 It was customary with preceding artists to use 
 much gilt, surrounding each head with a halo, till all 
 naturalness of effect was destroyed ; but in this work 
 Angelo had used none. The artist would probably 
 have acted upon this suggestion, and supplied the 
 wanting crowns; but, as usual, he was impatient to 
 begin something new, so he replied : — 
 
 " Oh ! these saints were all poor people, and never 
 knew what it was to have gold on their apparel." 
 
 This answer satisfied the Pope, gave Angelo an op- 
 portunity to prosecute his work, and suggested to the 
 artist world a new idea of conformity to nature. In 
 the pictures of Giotte, Cimabue, and all those founders 
 of Italian art, the background, instead of being a land- 
 scape or some architectural design, is usually a layer 
 of solid gilt. 
 
LETTER THIETY-SIX. 335 
 
 While painting the last half of the chapel, Angelo 
 asked leave of absence, in order to visit his friends in 
 Florence. 
 
 "When, then, will you finish my chapel?" de- 
 manded the tyrannical Julius. 
 
 " When I can ; when I can," replied Angelo. 
 
 Whereupon the Pope struck him with his stick. 
 Angelo immediately went home, where he was speedily 
 sought out by the pope's favorite page, who was sent 
 with money and apologies. Finally, in 1511, there 
 came an end to the quarrels of these two men by the 
 consummation of this wondrous masterpiece. It is a 
 pity Angelo did not have a Julius to push him on to 
 the completion of all his undertakings; for the num- 
 ber of his finished works is quite small compared with 
 the host of those which are but sufficiently advanced 
 to show what a master must have been the chisel's 
 guide. This study of an artist's life in connection 
 with that of his contributions to the world's great art 
 galleries, is most fascinating. 
 
 While Michael Angelo was in Rome, Raphael too 
 was here ; while the former was spoken against by en- 
 vious rivals, the latter drew around him a circle of 
 loving friends. I say Raphael was in Rome. Indeed, 
 from the Sistine Chapel, in which crusty Angelo was 
 trying the patience of Julius, one need merely as- 
 cend a narrow flight of steps and pass through two 
 ante-rooms, in order to be greeted by the sweet smile 
 of him who painted the Transfiguration. Years have 
 passed since then, but the gentle soul of Raphael still 
 
336 DESIGNS BY EAPHAEL. 
 
 manifests itself in the unfading beauty of the scenes with 
 which he has covered these walls. I can tell you of 
 only two or three of these, the most celebrated. Fac- 
 ing the entrance to the first room is what is called the 
 " School of Athens." The scene appears to be in a 
 large hall at the end of which is a stage approached 
 by a magnificent flight of marble steps. In the center, 
 on the topmost step, stands Plato, and, by his side 
 is Aristotle, the one explaining to a listening group 
 his Timaeus, the other his Ethics. On the left, lower 
 down, is Pythagoras with a book of music open on 
 his knee ; Socrates forms the center of another atten- 
 tive circle ; Archimedes stoops over a slate covered with 
 geometrical figures ; behind him is the Persian Zoro- 
 aster with a celestial globe in his hand; and, beside him 
 is Ptolemaus equally intent upon the study of a globe 
 terrestial. You may imagine the handsome faces of 
 these old philosophers ; but I had forgotten one of the 
 striking. All alone, frowning, hearing none of the most 
 speakers, doubting the honesty of all, is Diogenes. 
 He is neither sitting nor Ijnng, but seems to have 
 thrown himself down without regard to comfort of 
 position. His doggedly snarling visage is not soon to 
 be forgotten. 
 
 In another room is the "JVIass of Bolsena," com- 
 memorating an event which is said to have occurred in 
 Bolsena, in 1263. In the center is an altar before 
 which kneels a priest in the act of consecrating the 
 bread and wine. He does not believe in the doctrine 
 of Transubstantiation as taught by the church ; but to 
 
LETTER THIRTY-SIX. 337 
 
 dissipate and rebuke his doubts, drops of real blood 
 appear on the wafer. Cardinal Riario kneels in front 
 of him and as he beholds the miracle, his anger is 
 roused against the skeptic, who has thus made the 
 Lord to bleed afresh. The flush of. anger is as nat- 
 ural as if the real blood were rushing to the face of the 
 indignant cardinal. Other figures kneel in worship, 
 but these two are the actors of the scene. 
 
 Opposite this is a very singular picture. At 
 first glance, I thought an iron grating covered its 
 central portion ; but this delusion was due to the brush 
 of the same great artist. This is the prison window 
 of Peter, and through the bars can be seen the dark 
 form of the sleeping Apostle, over whom is bending 
 the heavenly lighted person of the releasing angel. 
 Left of this is Peter already led out by the angel, and 
 right are the keepers, one of whom, just awaked and 
 in terror, has lighted a torch and shakes his slumber- 
 ing companions. Over all shines the moon through 
 rifts in dark clouds, and this is one of the marvelous 
 parts of the composition — this rendering of three 
 different lights: that from the angel, the torch, and 
 the moon . But I could write all night about Raphael • 
 I will, right here, bid my pen be still. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 22 EUDOKA. 
 
338 ROME. 
 
 LETTER xxxyn. 
 
 EoME, January 26, 1876. 
 Dear Brother Graham : 
 
 MP) ERHAPS from the tone of our last two letters 
 •^M^ you will expect in this an account of a personal 
 interview with " His Holiness," Pope Pius IX. Well, 
 you shall not be disappointed ; for, though for certain 
 reasons we have not yet seen for ourselves the living 
 original of that admirable portrait, some of our friends 
 have obtained that privilege. As we were at dinner 
 last Thursday evening, a rather important ring of our 
 clamorous door-bell was followed by the entrance of 
 Maddelena with a document of official dimensions. 
 
 *'An audience for Dr. C. and Mr, H.," said Mad- 
 ame, as the result of holding the address immediately 
 under her nose for some minutes. 
 
 Next morning as we were on our way to St. Peter's 
 what was our surprise to meet these two gentlemen 
 returning from the Corso at an hour when the Doctor 
 is usually still snoring. 
 
 " Oh I I've got my swallow-tail I " was his greeting. 
 
 *'And our white cravats," added Mr. H., a Scotch- 
 man whose suit of brown homespun seems perfectly in 
 keeping with his shaggy beard and unsophisticated 
 ways. 
 
LETTER THIRTY-SEVEN. 339 
 
 *«At what hour are you expected at the Vatican? ** 
 we inquired. 
 
 "At a quarter before twelve — we must hurry on 
 home to see that the ladies are ready in time.'* 
 
 It was rather amusing to see the phlegmatic Doctor 
 for once aroused from indifference. 
 
 It was quite late when we returned that afternoon, but 
 we found the Doctor alone in the drawing-room writ- 
 ing by twilight. Of course we laughed at this unheard- 
 of procedure on his part, and asked for an oral 
 description of what he was doubtless communicating 
 to paper. He assented, and I will repeat as nearly as 
 possible his language : — 
 
 *' Well, we all went in style this morning to the 
 Vatican — drove in two-horse carriag-e rig-ht to the 
 door. Mrs. C. and that other girl, Mr. H.'s niece, 
 wore black dresses and black veils without bonnets or 
 gloves, according to directions. We went up some- 
 thing less than a thousand steps to that long hall you 
 looked into the other day — the one with the red- 
 cushioned chairs along the sides and a big arm-chair at 
 the end with a bust of the Pope over it. You know 
 they call it a loggia, and it has windows all on one 
 side, and the other is painted with birds and flowers 
 and such things. Well, I think there were sixty of us, 
 mostly English or American, with a few French, per- 
 haps. We had to wait about fifteen minutes, when 
 that curtained glass door at the end was opened and 
 the Pope came in with the cardinals and them other 
 fellows. He was walking with a cane and looked 
 
340 THE POPE. 
 
 pretty feeble, but still as fat and jolly as a Dutchman. 
 We all stood up as he entered, and as I happened to 
 be at the seat nearest the door, he commenced on me. 
 I just dropped down on one knee — on account of my 
 rheumatism this wasn't very easy — and then the Sec- 
 retary read my name and where I was from. 
 
 " ' From America, are you? ' said the Pope, mighty 
 pleasant ; and I said : 
 
 " ' Yes, from Amevicy,'' and then I gave his hand a 
 hearty shake. 
 
 *' Mrs. C. was next, and as he went to her I got up 
 and took my chair again. I forgot one thing — didn't 
 think of it till I saw all the others do it — that was 
 to kiss his ring. I had just as lief shown the old man 
 this honor as not, as long as he's used to it; but 
 he didn't take any notice of it. He had something to 
 say to every one, so it took half an hour or more for 
 him to get around, and then he made a little speech in 
 French, but of course I didn't understand that. Mr. 
 H. says it was very fine." 
 
 Here Mr. H. came to the rescue, but he could give 
 us only the general idea. He began with contrasting 
 his eighty-four years and white hairs with the youthful 
 faces of his audience, and assured them that the expe- 
 rience of his life had taught him the lesson that good- 
 ness is indispensable to happiness. He concluded by 
 pronouncing a blessing upon the baskets of beads and 
 other trifles carried by the visitors for this purpose. 
 Mrs. C. had three or four rosaries strung on her arm 
 
LETTER THIRTY-SEVEN. 341 
 
 which she will present, blessing and all, to some Cath- 
 olic friends in America. 
 
 Now, perhaps you can guess what are the certain 
 reasons which have deterred us from o-ratit'vino; our 
 curiosity by forming the acquaintance of the "Holy 
 Father." We could obtain an audience by merely 
 requesting it; we do not object to the costume, for it 
 is very appropriate to wear black to the funeral of so 
 near a friend as principle; we know one requirement 
 of true religion is to visit those who are in prison, but 
 a voluntary hiding of one's self in a magnificent palace 
 can scarcely come under this head. However amiable 
 the aged Pius IX. may be, we can not bow to the 
 embodiment of all the anti-Christian pretensions which 
 belong to this ofSce. Yet Protestants are in the habit 
 of doing this very thing — this is one of the sights 
 almost invariably put , down in a programme for 
 Rome. 
 
 If one comes here with the determination to attend 
 all the church festivals, he will find his time fully occu- 
 pied. There are three hundred and sixty-five places 
 of Catholic worship in the city and each is sacred to 
 some certain saint, who is annually honored by a sea- 
 son of special remembrance. Each festival consists of 
 vespers the afternoon preceding, high-mass in the morn- 
 ing, and vespers again. During the two weeks since 
 our, arrival there have been the feasts of St. Peter's 
 Chair, of St. Antony, of St. Agnus, of St. Ignatius, of 
 St. Paul's Conversion, and doubtless others of which 
 
342 *' HOLY FAMILY." 
 
 we have not heard. We were top late for the week of 
 Epiphany, so we failed to see the sacred " Bambino " 
 exhibited in the front of the church of Ara Coeli. 
 This is simply a doll made of wood from the Mount of 
 Olives, made by a monk and painted, they say, by an 
 angel. On the day that it is presented to the public 
 all the lon^ flight of steps leading from the piazza 
 below to this church on the top of the Capitoline Hill, 
 is crowded with spectators, and as a white-gloved 
 priest holds the idol up to view, every Catholic falls to 
 his knees and utters a prayer. We wished to see this 
 image before which Rome is wont to bow, so we 
 applied to the sacristan of Ara Coeli. Eight willingly 
 he led us into the inner sanctum, and bade us wait till 
 he could bring the key. It was a tiny chapel with a 
 simple altar upon which he lighted two of the candles. 
 He inserted the key in a brass plate, above the center 
 of this altar, turned it, pulled back the plate, thus 
 revealing an inner lock. By unfastening this he 
 loosened a pair of stout cords which, I suppose, are 
 connected by hidden pulleys with the sliding doors to 
 a niche above. At any rate, he drew these cords, the 
 doors slided apart and there we were in front of the 
 "Holy Family: " a cradle in the center, Joseph and 
 Mary beside it in attitudes of adoration. The priest, 
 or Franciscan monk rather, pulled off his skull-cap, 
 but we felt no great awe as yet. He now drew the 
 cradle out upon the altar, removed the covering and 
 unlocked the casket. The gleam of diamonds, rubies, 
 emeralds and gold would have dazzled us had we not 
 
LETTER THIRTY-SEVEN. 343 
 
 preyiously heard of its splendors. The doll is about 
 two feet long, wrapped in cloth of silver brocaded with 
 gold, and literally covered with blazing jewels. Its 
 head is adorned with a crown of gold set with gems, 
 and its feet are clad with the same precious metal. 
 The handsomest rings, the most exquisite brooches, 
 chains of greatest value, have been appended to it as 
 votive offerings by the rich. And after all it is only 
 a homely wooden doll, though they call it " 1/ Santis- 
 simo Bambino " (Most Holy Infant). " Multo rico '* 
 (very rich), said the sacristan winking his left eye as 
 if proud of his charge. We gave him a franc for 
 allowing our unhallowed gaze to rest upon his god, and 
 he was quite content with his half hour's work. This 
 " Bambino " has an elegant carriage and horses of its 
 own, and as it is driven by its liveried coachmen 
 through the streets, the people kneel in deep humility. 
 It is only taken out when some one is very ill, and 
 thinks nothing short of a miracle can restore his health. 
 Its visits are very brief, however, though formerly it 
 was sometimes left for days with the patient. One 
 woman took advantage of this a great while ago, by 
 substituting another doll in place of the real one. 
 She thought she would never die if she could keep the 
 ' « Blessed Infant ' ' always beside her. The Franciscans 
 did not discover the forgery till at midnight they were 
 awakened by the furious ringing of bells and thunder- 
 ing knocks at the door. Imagine their surprise when, 
 opening it, they found the little pink Bambino, all naked 
 and shivering, begging for admittance. Since then, a 
 
344 <' BLESSED INFANT," 
 
 monk always attends it on its visits to the sick, and 
 watches it narrowly. 
 
 Now do not think I am writing these things upon un- 
 certain hearsay. There is no doubt that the ignorant 
 believe this whole story, and that even the intelligent 
 Catholic dare not deny it. This is but a specimen of 
 the heathenish superstitions which we are finding 
 every day in connection with the Church of Rome. 
 Kate will write you next week some items in regard to 
 missionary work in the city, as we are beginning to 
 realize, as never before, how greatly such eflforts are 
 needed here. What a burlesque that Romanism should 
 claim the name of Christianity I How much longer 
 shall this corrupt system pollute the earth I Can noth- 
 ing be done to open the eyes of this deluded people. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER XXXYIII. 
 
 EoME, January 24, 1876. 
 Dear Flora : 
 
 OUR account of your Christmas joys came to hand 
 the other day ; but I have seen so many things 
 since then that the season seems long past. We 
 are sight-seeing in earnest now; for Rome is too 
 expensive a place, to stay longer than necessary to 
 
LETTER THIRTY-EIGHT. 345 
 
 become acquainted with its chief wonders. On Satur- 
 day we went to see, among other things, the Tarpsean 
 Rock. This is a steep bluff on the south side of the 
 Capitoline, one of the far-famed Seven Hills. In 460 
 B. C, the Sabines were attacking the city, and by 
 climbing these heights, succeeded in taking it by sur- 
 prise. Later, the Gauls made a similar attempt, and 
 were near the top, when the geese sacred to the god- 
 dess Juno began a terrible quacking, which gave the 
 alarm. Aroused by this sound, an officer named Man- 
 lius hurled backward down the precipice, the foremost 
 of the assailants, who in his fall dragged others of his 
 followers with him, and thus Rome was saved. You 
 have read this in your history of Rome, and you 
 remember that after this, on each annual recurrence 
 of the day, a goose was carried in triumphal procession 
 to the spot, while a dog was there crucified, because 
 on that memorable night, the watch dogs of the city 
 had failed to give any warning. Over this same rock, 
 I am sorry to say, the brave Manlius was afterwards 
 thrown, because he was accused of ambitious designs. 
 In the '■'■ Marble Faun' ^ Nathaniel Hawthorne repre- 
 sents one of his characters as ridding himself of an 
 enemy by precipitating him from the same steep. So 
 you see there are associations enough of history and 
 fiction to make the Tarpsean Rock an object of great 
 interest. 
 
 A broad flight of steps ascends from the Piazza 
 Campidoglio, and leads under an archway in the direc- 
 tion indicated on the map as that of the sought-for 
 
346 TAEP^AN ROCK. 
 
 object. Beyond the arch a palace with a neat garden 
 appeared on the right with no hint of a precipice any- 
 where. 
 
 *' Rupe Taryei^ 8ignora,^^ said a musical voice, and 
 turning we found ourselves addressed by one of those 
 remarkably beautiful children, which are now and 
 then encountered among the host of dirty, repulsive 
 beggars, which crowd every passway. How sweetly 
 the little fellow lisped these words, how bright was 
 his face, I find no words to tell; but we could not 
 resist being led by such an angel. He could not have 
 been more than six years old ; but he seemed to know 
 where he was going and pointed out intelligently the 
 places of interest along the way. It was truly novel 
 to have such an infant for a guide. Soon he paused 
 before a door on which was written, sure enough, the 
 words with which he had addressed us ^^Rupe Tarpei.^^ 
 A woman saw us, and, coming forward with an enor- 
 mous key, opened for us this door, whereupon our 
 infantine guide looked up with an expression of 
 expectancy in his soft black eyes. We could not 
 resist the mute appeal, but slipped a coin into his tiny 
 palm. A curly-haired girl standing by tried to take 
 this away from him when our backs were turned ; but 
 the woman interfered in his behalf. 
 
 We followed her now through a garden of cabbages, 
 bordered with blooming jonquils and roses, along a 
 graveled path, till we reached a low ivy-clad brick wall. 
 
 "There is the Tarpsean Eock," she said, pointing 
 to a projecting ledge, above which rise the walls of a 
 
LETTER THIRTY-EIGHT. 847 
 
 great house, and below which are the roofs of many 
 others. I have seen many a rock more picturesque ; 
 but such is the eflFect of association that we gathered 
 eagerly mementoes from the abundant clusters of ivy- 
 leaves. Our chaperone stood patiently waiting till we 
 were satisfied with gazing upon the surrounding scene ; 
 the Colosseum, the Palace of the Csesars, a wide 
 extent of the Campagna, with the last rays of the sun 
 upon it all. 
 
 Our little girl, having failed to get possession of the 
 *' copper" we had given to the boy, stood waiting to 
 waylay us, as we came out. 
 
 ^^ Bella, bella Sigiorinna,'" said she, meaning " Beau- 
 tiful, beautiful lady." I suppose she thought we 
 would reward her for the compliment, but there are too 
 many calls for our money. Another joined her in her 
 entreaties for " una soldo " (one cent nearly), and 
 further on we again met our little guide. He was 
 leading by the hand a dirty-faced youngster, with hair 
 uncombed and clothes ragged and soiled. He said in 
 Italian something about his ^^fratello " (brother), and 
 begged us to give the " bambino " (baby) something. 
 Here we were literally surrounded by infantine beg- 
 gars, but they soon concluded it was vain to waste time 
 from play in pursuing us, so they soon resumed their 
 game ; but I shall not soon forget the picture of our 
 beautiful little guide importuning for his dirty, ragged 
 little brother. 
 
 We often see funny things on the street. The 
 other day, we met a proud papa who was teaching his 
 
348 DISPUTED STICKS. 
 
 little one how to walk. He had a long band of cotton 
 passed over its breast and under its arms, and by this 
 he supported it while its tiny feet just touched the 
 pavement. The father was pleased to have us notice 
 his pet, and smiled back at our amused expression. 
 
 To-day, I was sitting on the steps of St. Peter's, 
 when two boys began fighting over some sticks which 
 each seemed to claim. The larger boy finally got the 
 other one down, and was beating him unmercifully, 
 when a man came to the rescue. He took hold of the 
 conqueror, spanked him, cuffed him, and kicked him, 
 till he was only able to slink around the pedestal of 
 St. Paul's statue. In the meantime, the other boy 
 got up, grabbed the disputed sticks, and beat them to 
 pieces over an upright stone. This seemed to me 
 punishment enough for the larger boy ; but just then 
 a soldier or policeman came upon the scene of action, 
 took his turn at boxing the unfortunate fellow, and then 
 led him off perhaps to lock him up. This is the first 
 thing of the kind I have yet observed ; indeed, the 
 people generally seem perfectly good-natured. 
 
 I am too tired to write any more. We have worked 
 so hard since coming here that we need rest when 
 night comes. To-morrow I intend to stay at home and 
 write to Brother Graham, more for the sake of getting 
 rested than anything else. It is not prudent to weary 
 one's self too much in this climate. I wish you could 
 see the things lam now seeing every day; but I'll 
 bring you a stereoscopic views of the places we visit, 
 and from these you may get a faint idea. In fact, you 
 
LETTER THIRTY-NINE. 349 
 
 must study and learn a great deal yet before you 
 could appreciate many of the wonders of Europe. 
 We had a letter from Vachel to-day, who now intends 
 to join us the first of March, though he regrets that his 
 time for study is so nearly spent. Expecting soon a 
 nice long answer to this, I'll fold it and write the 
 address-. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 KoME, January 28, 1876. 
 JJr. J. C Lindsay and Wife: 
 
 ^\EAE BROTHER AND SISTER, If I can suffi- 
 (^^^ ciently concentrate my mind, I will answer your 
 highly-appreciated letter. At an adjoining table four 
 of our fellow boarders are engaged in an edifying 
 conversation in French. They are an interesting 
 study, as they are the first of that nationality with 
 whom I have met. One couple consists of a mother 
 and her grown-up son Dr. Carr, our Chicago friend, 
 says " she is the greatest saw-^ill of a woman he ever 
 saw." I do not know exactly what he means by that; 
 but the monotonous rise and fall of her voice in con- 
 versation, the occasional grand explosions of emphasis, 
 
350 FRUIT FROM THE VATICAN. 
 
 the incessant rocking to and fro of her body, do some- 
 what suggest this noisy, untiring machine. 
 
 It seems one characteristic of the French mother is 
 to keep her son always tied to her apron string. This 
 young man must be twenty-two or three, and yet he 
 occupies the same room with his mother. They are 
 surely of the common people, I think, or they should 
 know better. The whole set are Oatholic, and once in 
 a while, under the impression that no one can under- 
 stand their language, they express their opinions of 
 Protestants, pronouncing them, as a class, ill-bred and 
 irreligious. You should have seen with what pride the 
 fat old man (another of party) brought in an orange 
 from the Vatican, the other day. 
 
 "From the garden of the Holy Father I " he ex- 
 claimed, as he exhibited the beautiful fruit to our ad- 
 miring eyes. 
 
 I had the honorof eating a wee bit, but I must confess 
 it was very sour. The same evening he and his wife 
 showed us three tiny bronze images of Joseph, Mary, 
 and Christ ; they are only an inch long, so they carry 
 them in their pocketbooks and no doubt kiss them and 
 pray over them every day. But these are not the only 
 Catholics in the house ; there are five English or rather 
 four English and one American, who are of the same 
 persuasion. One of them, a young girl, is about to 
 go through her first Lent, and she is already dreading 
 it. This is Friday, the day on which they usually eat 
 only fish and vegetables : but Madam L. surprised 
 them by preparing a most delicate dish of bird which 
 
LETTER THIRTY-NINE. 351 
 
 she declared was legal diet. The first one looked at it 
 doubtfully, then took a very small piece; the second 
 said, ** Certainly, it is all right," and also partook; 
 influenced by their example, the young girl took two 
 pieces, and when it was again handed around a third. 
 They all felt some misgivings ; but as the fowl had a 
 French name, and as Madam L. had prepared it, I 
 suppose they thought she would be responsible for the 
 sin. 
 
 But it was not only the chattering French who 
 tended to distract my thoughts at the beginning of this 
 letter. At the close of the day, we English-speaking 
 folks are wont to recount our exploits. If we have 
 been among the ruins, the first question is, *' What 
 have you stolen, to-day? " This means, " Have you 
 stumbled upon any rare bits of marble hidden in the 
 dirt, and saved them from the lime kiln by bringing 
 them away ? " I suppose there is no other city in the 
 world where one can not walk a dozen steps without 
 coming upon fragments of this valuable material. 
 Among the ruins, the quantity and variety are truly 
 wonderful, and each one tries to find the prettiest piece 
 as a souvenir of the spot. I have had the luck to thus 
 far, surpass all competitors, by finding a large piece of 
 luminario, a dark green marble flecked with trans- 
 parent crystals. It was lying, too, in a place where no 
 custodian is set to watch, so I did not steal it in any 
 sense of the term. It was lying under the shadow of 
 a ruined temple not far from the Colosseum. I have 
 also a diamond of yellow marble, which I found among 
 
352 THE CAPUCHINS. 
 
 the rubbish in the palace of Tiberius Csesar. It is just 
 as it was used in paving the floor over which he walked. 
 I shall put the two together in a paper weight, or 
 rather I shall have a lapidary to do this for me. 
 
 January 29 — By the time I had written this far 
 I was too sleepy for further work, and now I am tired 
 enough to rest again. 
 
 We have lost no time since this morning at half-past 
 nine. We repaired first to the church of the Capu- 
 chins. In the church itself are several fine pictures ; 
 but, as usual, where these pictures should be, was only 
 a dingy succession of green curtains. This is a trick 
 by which the holy monastics turn a penny in their 
 lazy way. A Capuchin in his heavy brown gown, with 
 bare feet and shorn head, came promptly forward to 
 draw aside the obstructing curtains, and we found our- 
 selves in presence of Guido Reni's representation of 
 the Archangel Michael conquering Satan. This is 
 one of the most famous works of the artist. The 
 Archangel seems more than earthly. His foot is on 
 the head of the fiend, but he needs no support, for his 
 wings bear him up ; his frame has the force and dig- 
 nity of most perfect manhood, while his face has the 
 soft, refined beauty of woman. The artist has given 
 to Satan the face of the Pope who then occupied the 
 chair, and this shows how genius dares to take privi- 
 leges which might cost an ordinary man the forfeit of 
 his life. 
 
 "Now, show us the vaults," was our request as 
 soon as the screen was once more replaced. You have 
 
LETTER THIRTY-NINE. 353 
 
 read Mark Twain's account of these ghastly chambers, 
 but no description can quite prepare you for the scene. 
 They are not subterranean; on the contrary, they have 
 the benefit of the full daylight, and never did daylight 
 reveal such a spectacle as presented here. Skulls, 
 vertebrae, leg and arm bones, ribs, in short, every bone 
 of the human frame is employed in the fantastic dis- 
 play. Grottoes are built in which recline grinning 
 skeletons, clasping in their fleshless fingers a crucifix 
 or some such symbol. They have on the same dark, 
 coarse robe as in life, and the senseless grin with which 
 they greet you is a sad burlesque upon proud human- 
 ity. Overhead, in one of the four rooms, the central 
 decoration of the ceiling is an entire skeleton of more 
 delicate mould than ordinary. This the monk pointed 
 out as one of the Barberini family — a countess, who 
 was once, perhaps, as beautiful as the Princess Mar- 
 guerite, of whom the Italians are now so fond. It 
 was one of the Barberini who founded this church and 
 convent, and, as special mark of gratitude, these Capu- 
 chins have given to this noble lady a prominent place 
 among their beloved dead. Upon the floor of each 
 vault is three feet of earth from Jerusalem, in which 
 sacred dust they used to give their brethren temporary 
 burial ; but that is now forbidden by the government. 
 When the space became filled then the one who had 
 longest lain buried was taken up to make room for a 
 fresh corpse. Some of these who are put together 
 and clothed as ornaments for the niches still have frag- 
 ments of skin and hair adhering to their horrid faces. 
 
 23 
 
354 QUIRINAL PALACE. 
 
 One has been dead only ten years, another has occu- 
 pied his nook for more than a hundred. I do not 
 know why it is the bones do not crumble ; but this 
 centenarian seems only somewhat bleached. I can 
 never forget this sig-ht. Lono; after the tints and 
 
 o o o 
 
 designs of Eaphael have faded from my mind these 
 portraits of death will recur vividly to me. Before 
 leaving, Mrs. Carr, with the help of Miss Shaw, 
 secured a little of the Jerusalem dirt, which she pro- 
 poses to put in her cabinet of curiosities. 
 
 We went next to the Quirinal Palace, which is airily 
 situated on one of the Seven Hills of Rome. From 
 1594 to 1870 it was the summer residence of the popes, 
 and doubtless Pius IX. felt a little out of humor when 
 Victor Emanuel coolly took possession of this desira- 
 ble retreat. Small, dark, mustached Italian riflemen, 
 with their bunches of cock plumes overshadowing one 
 side of their faces, keep watch at the door. A fine- 
 looking fellow, all in scarlet, takes charge of um- 
 brellas, and in a low tone, directs the visitor to go 
 straight ahead to the broad marble stairway at the other 
 side of the extensive court. We ascended the stairs 
 between the rows of flower pots which enliven it on 
 either hand. We were shown through a suite of ten 
 rooms, on whose walls hung beautiful pictures in 
 tapestry or on canvas. In the waiting-room is a full 
 length portrait of the king's father, which is interest- 
 ing as a proof that the former has inherited a large 
 part of his notorious ugliness. This room has instead 
 of wall paper, hangings of rich canary-colored silk, the 
 
LETTER THIRTY-NINB. 355 
 
 chair cushions being of the same rich material. The 
 adjoining chamber is that of the throne, and is all in 
 crimson, except the golden fringe of the canopy over 
 the throne, and of the throne itself. Next is the 
 assembly room of ambassadors, of which the hangings 
 are in blue and gilt, and whose sole picture is a life- 
 like portrait of the German emperor. This is a mer- 
 ited honor shown by Victor Emanuel to Frederic 
 William, for it is the friendship of this powerful sov- 
 ereign which keeps the French from interfering with 
 the present government of Italy. I have heard Catho- 
 lics in this house express a desire for such action on 
 the part of the French. 
 
 The last room into which we were conducted was 
 the dining hall, in which a busy scene was in progress. 
 Half a dozen men were engaged in rubbing up the gilt 
 candelabra, and furnishing them with wax candles. 
 The long tables were already spread with the finest, 
 whitest linen, and we could imagine the gayety of the 
 scene which to-morrow evening is to bring. The guide 
 said there were ambassadors and other distinguished 
 guests expected, but he said never a word about our 
 coming ( !). If I had a velvet dress, diamonds, and 
 lace, I should like to be one of the party; but I had 
 rather be myself than the Princess Marguerite. Her 
 husband, oldest son of Victor Emanuel, is very dissi- 
 pated, and, what is worse, does not love her. He was 
 in love with a Saxon princess, who died; and he 
 married the beautiful Genoese from policy. I think I 
 can do better than that, don't you? I find there are 
 
356 CONGRATULATIONS. 
 
 many things worse than poverty — I mean worse than 
 being moderately poor. 
 
 But it is very late, and I can add only a few com- 
 ments upon your letter. I congratulate you now upon 
 your prospects of a happy life. If 1 were not so 
 happy myself I might envy you; but, never mind, 
 maybe I too shall have a cozy little home some day. 
 I am glad you enjoyed your little tour, and that you. 
 Sister Emma, call my Father's house " home." I agree 
 with you in thinking Lexington somewhat smaller than 
 Cincinnati, and less beautiful than Louisville ; but 
 there are many most estimable people buried away in 
 those antiquated houses. 
 
 Now, about the pictures Mrs. Thomas wished me to 
 select for her over here. I have concluded that the 
 Centennial will be the best place to purchase them. I 
 find everywhere works of art — the choicest works 
 being prepared for the gisfi&t Exposition. There will 
 be landscapes of the finest natural scenery, and num- 
 berless copies of the works of the old masters. Now, 
 when these artists once get their pictures over the 
 waters, rather than bring them back, they will sell 
 them comparatively cheap. I can aid Mrs. T. by tell- 
 ing her what copies are true to the originals. If I had 
 money to invest in paintings I should pursue this 
 course. Hoping we may meet in Philadelphia next 
 June, I am Your sister, 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
LETTER FORTY. 357 
 
 LETTER XL. 
 
 EoME, February 6, 1876. 
 Dear Mother: 
 
 tN my last letter to the Times you will see how we 
 didiiHcsll on the Pope, and in this I propose to tell 
 you how we did pay a visit to Garibaldi. On last 
 Monday morning Kate and I determined to do nothing 
 till noon, but rest; so we happened, for a wonder, to 
 be in as Dr. and Mrs. Carr, Mr, Mintone and his niece, 
 came in to lunch. They said they had been to see 
 Garibaldi, but had not been received. They had driven 
 up to the gate and asked to be admitted, when a ser- 
 vant stuck her head out at the upper window and in- 
 formed them that the General was not yet out of bed. 
 Nothing daunted they inquired at what hour they could 
 see him. After a consultation with her master, the 
 woman came down stairs with the message : — 
 
 *'I will see as many as choose to come this after- 
 noon at two o'clock." 
 
 At this the party left well satisfied, and camp home 
 to lunch. Miss Shaw, Kate and I concluded to ac- 
 company them. I must admit I felt a little nervous 
 about my toilette, for my Sunday dress now is that 
 brown merino which I wore for every day at Hocker 
 two years ago. To be sure I have made it over till it 
 
358 GARIBALDI. 
 
 is passable on ordinary occasions, but one doesn't have 
 to be introduced to a famous General every day. My 
 gloves, too, were out at the fingers, because I had been 
 too busy to go to the Corso for a new pair, but Miss 
 Shaw reminded me it would not be polite to offer my 
 gloved hand to a man of distinction. At last we were 
 under way. But it was with some trepidation we 
 found the carriage of the others already out of sight. 
 As we drove past the Porta Pia, the very gate by which 
 Victor Emanuel entered on the 20th of September, 
 1870, we met a body of Italian cavalry. They were 
 simply out for exercise, I suppose ; but so continually 
 does one encounter the blue uniform that it appears as 
 if a war were constantly impending. Italy has, in 
 proportion to her population, the largest standing army 
 in Europe ; but it is doubtless necessary for the main- 
 tenance of the present government. The tramp of 
 the cavalry had not died away when there came into 
 view a much larger display of infantry. They were 
 straggling along in a very disorderly manner. I do 
 not mean they were making a noise — they never do 
 that — but they were stepping without regard to time. 
 They were probably on their way to the open space in 
 front of St. John Lateran, one of the large churches 
 near the southern wall, where I have often seen them 
 drilling. The Italian soldiers are usually far from 
 handsome; they are so small and dark, and their uni- 
 form is so ugly. It is not that rich, dark blue so be- 
 coming to the fair-haired Saxon, nor yet the light blue 
 of our own soldiers, but just that tint between the two 
 
LETTER FORTY. 359 
 
 which would be trying to any complexion. To make 
 it worse, they wear baggy, dirty linen overalls to save 
 their pants. We had scarcely made our way through 
 this double line of youthful, would-be heroes, when 
 our driver suddenly turned into a gate, and to our joy 
 we found Dr. C. and the rest still waiting. We were 
 in a large yard planted with various shrubs and car- 
 peted with grass; there was a green-house near the 
 gate, and the gentle murmur of a fountain came from 
 the court beyond. The villa, with its cream-colored 
 • walls and pillared entrance, seemed adapted to its sur- 
 roundings. All this I took in at a glance, and then we 
 all became absorbed in watching for the door to open. 
 There was no bell to ring, and no one to tell us how 
 long we must wait. I was a little excited at the thought 
 of seeinoj this man who has wrought such chano;es in 
 his land. I already felt awed in presence of the digni- 
 fied form conjured up by my imagination. I felt sure 
 of the bristling mustache, the glittering epaulets, the 
 erect attitude, the condescending manner. A foppish 
 Italian who came up about this time seemed equally 
 flustered. He asked Mr. Mintone to present for him 
 his letter of introduction. 
 
 " I am not the porter, sir," said Mr. M., with Scotch 
 bluntness ; and as just at that minute the door opened, 
 
 Signor had to enter with his letter in his own 
 
 hand. It was a man servant who led us up the stone 
 stairway and through a small, scantily furnished cham- 
 ber. Dr. Carr was in advance, and, as I crossed the 
 threshold of the next door, I saw him leaning over a 
 
360 THE RECEPTION. 
 
 chair at the end of a long, bare table. As the Doctor 
 moved his portly form to one side, there first appeared 
 a smoking cap of scarlet embroidered with gold, then 
 an abundance of white flowing locks which mingled 
 themselves with the silvery beard of a man who was 
 either old or broken down by exposure. Dr. C. took 
 upon himself the task of presenting us one at a time, 
 I being among the first. 
 
 " Miss Lindsay, from Kentucky," said Dr. C. 
 
 "Ah!" said the General, "from Kentucky?" and 
 he extended his left hand. 
 
 The movement of the arm was stiff, and the hand 
 itself was swollen quite out of shape. I took it as 
 gently as possible and looked into his bright dark 
 eyes. It was only a moment and I was glad it could 
 not be longer; for I was overcome at the sight of this 
 once vigorous man so prostrated and enfeebled. 
 I could now survey him while the rest were shaking 
 hands with him. His body was clad in a gray and 
 black striped woolen garment, quite loose and seem- 
 ingly shapeless. (It may have been a dressing- 
 gown.) Around his neck was a scarlet scarf, his 
 right arm was in a sling. I had expected to be awed 
 by the dignity of a powerful general ; but the emotion 
 I now felt was pure pity unmixed with awe. The 
 sight, too, made me realize more than ever before the 
 frailty of the human frame. 
 
 " Take care of the fire," spoke the invalid in a mild 
 tone as Mrs. Carr swept her skirts over the hearth. 
 
 There seemed little need for this warning, for there 
 
LETTER FORTY. 361 
 
 were only a few smoldering embers left, and the whole 
 room had a cold, desolate air. The floor was carpetless 
 and upon the tiles were scattered litter of apparently 
 several days' accumulation. I felt that I would be glad 
 to go to work and make all about the old man cheerful. 
 
 Mr. Catrell, the Australian, assured His Excellency 
 that he had come 17,000 miles, and that he felt the 
 honor of seeing him was sufficient to repay the separa- 
 tion from friends and the trials of the sea. 
 
 "lam very proud to see you all here," was the 
 remark of the General as he shook hands with the last. 
 
 " On the contrary, we are proud of having such an 
 honor," responded Miss Shaw, and then we bowed 
 ourselves out. 
 
 Such was our visit to Garibaldi, and such is the 
 state to which a rheumatism brought on by exposures 
 has reduced the active soldier who won for Victor 
 Emanuel the crown of united Italy. He has had three 
 wives, but the first died, the second was false to him, 
 the third has left him a widower with two little chil- 
 dren, a girl and boy. His two oldest sons, Menotti 
 and Ricardo, are officers in the army. One is apt to 
 envy the fame of such a man as Garibaldi, but there is 
 oftener happiness to be found in ahumbler, more quiet 
 lot. We were expressing our sympathy with the 
 desolate old man, w^hen an English lady remarked that 
 Garibaldi doubtless feels the cheerlessness much less 
 than we might suppose; "for," said she, " the Ital- 
 ians know little of such comforts as Americans are 
 used to." 
 
362 " ST. Peter's prison.** 
 
 This is probably true; for Miss Denneberg, my 
 French teacher, has given us a peep behind the curtains 
 of an Italian home. We see the ladies on the streets 
 with elegant silk velvets draping their forms in ample 
 folds; but Miss D. says under that costly array is 
 often the most disgusting untidiness. She was gov- 
 erness in the family, and thus often helped to dress 
 the half-grown girls. Their under-garments were 
 invariably torn and soiled, but the velvets must go on 
 the outside. They were never fit to receive company 
 except at appointed hours ; for, at other times, they 
 were too slovenly. If they are thus careless about 
 their persons, it is not likely that they would take much 
 care of their houses. I can only say, I hope my father's 
 old age may be made more comfortable than that of 
 the great Garibaldi. 
 
 After returning from this visit, we repaired accord- 
 ing to agreement, to a little church called " Sb. Peters 
 in Prison " which is at one corner of the old Forum. 
 It is a very singular church, as it is partly under 
 ground, and there is a second one built over it. We 
 entered by a low side-door and saw to the right under 
 the low-arched roof a number of kneeling worshipers. 
 In the dim light, made more dim by the smoke of the 
 incense, there was an unusual solemnity in the vesper 
 service. At half past four, about twenty people, 
 mostly ladies, were assembled at this door, and a little 
 old man with a grizzled, beard appeared as the leader. 
 
 *' We will descend now," said he, swinging back an 
 
LETTER FORTY. 363 
 
 iron grate, below which was a flight of steps leading 
 into darkness. 
 
 A young man stood at the top of the steps 
 and gave each in passing down a coil of waxed candle- 
 wick. These we lighted to guide our steps, and by 
 their aid we made our way to a dungeon of very nar- 
 row dimensions, with cold ground floor and walls made 
 from great rough blocks of tufa. In this and a simi- 
 lar room below, it is said that St. Peter was imprisoned. 
 We had entered this dismal place by a broad stair- 
 way, but in former times prisoners were let down 
 through a hole in the center of the ceiling, while a 
 rough, narrow flight of steps, of which a few stones 
 still remain, was that over which they were drawn back 
 to day-light in order to be hissed and stoned by the 
 populace, or thrown into the Tiber. It was by this 
 same stair Cicero came forth and announced to the 
 people that the conspirators with Cataline had ceased 
 to live. The Emperor Vitellius was murdered close to 
 the exit of these stairs ; two Roman Decemvirs 
 Claudius and Oppius, 499 B. C, here committed sui- 
 cide ; and here Jugurtha was starved to death by Mar- 
 ius. It is by some considered the oldest structure in 
 Rome. In going down the very narrow steps to the 
 room below, our taper-light fell upon a profile cut in 
 the solid rock on one side of the wall. This Catholic 
 pilgrims are wont to kiss ; for they say this was the 
 pillow of Peter, upon which he has left the outline of 
 his face. Below, was pointed out the column to which 
 
364 SUBTERRANEAN DUNGEONS 
 
 he, along with St. Paul, was tied for nine months. 
 More wonderful still, is a perpetual spring of clear 
 water, which, it is claimed by the " Faithful," sprang 
 up in answer to the prayer of Peter, that he might 
 have water to baptize the two converted jailers. But 
 this same spring is referred to by early historians as 
 having existed before the time of Christ. 
 
 On the fourth of July, at night, these prisons are 
 visited by various brotherhoods of monks who pros- 
 trate themselves upon the ground in silent devotion. 
 These two rooms are no recent discovery; but, not 
 long since, the great English archaeologist, Mr. Parker, 
 our grizzly bearded guide, arrived at the conclusion 
 that there must be something more beyond. In early 
 prisons, it was customary to have two such rooms for 
 the jailers, while three hundred yards further, were 
 the still more awful subterranean dungeons of the con- 
 demned criminals. These two are themselves subter- 
 ranean now ; but that is because the dirt of centui'ies 
 has gradually risen above them as it had over the 
 Forum. Well, the result proved Mr. Parker correct, 
 for the passage is now dug out, and beyond it are 
 seven cells. We entered the labyrinth, which is so low 
 one must stoop in order to walk, and so narrow that 
 your dress rubs against the dirty walls at every step. 
 Moreover, as it gradually descends it becomes slippery, 
 bat the novelty kept us from thinking of these slight 
 annoyances. One by one, after having traversed this 
 three hundred yards, we came upon the seven chambers 
 in which for centuries the prisoners of Rome were con- 
 
LETTER FORTY. 365 
 
 fined and tortured. There are still other cells below 
 these, plunged into deeper darkness, but they are filled 
 with water, thus preventing further excavations at 
 present. Mr. Parker points out a dark corner as the 
 place in which Jugurtha was tortured, and it seems 
 quite probable he is right ; for the Latin historian, 
 Sallust, says, this unfortunate captain complained of 
 being not only shut up in a gloomy dungeon, but of 
 being at the same time, subjected to a cold bath, and 
 over this cell the water of the Tiber sometimes rises. 
 The exit from these chambers is into a dirty narrow 
 court, and as we squeezed ourselves through the con- 
 tracted door-way, half a dozen beggar girls snatched 
 at the remaining bits of our wax tapers. This accom- 
 plished they then began to beg for a little money. 
 We are too much accustomed to these ragged troops to 
 pay much attention to them, but it was rather amusing 
 to see how they persisted in clinging to the legs and 
 coat-tail of Mr. Parker. Finally, he drew from his 
 pocket a two cent piece, and threw it to the other side 
 of the piazza". Of course every girl ran for the penny 
 and thus we escaped them. 
 
 On Tuesday morning we went to the studios of 
 three American sculptors: Messrs. Ives and Rogers 
 and Miss Hosmer. Of course, in a city so filled with 
 relics of the days when art had reached its greatest 
 perfection, modern workmanship must be severely 
 criticised ; but, really, not even among the Vatican 
 treasures have I ever enjoyed a day more fully than 
 this one among the productions of living men. It is 
 
366 AMEEICAN SCULPTORS. 
 
 easy to see that the chisel of Eogers or of Ives does 
 not cut such beautifully tapering fingers and exquis- 
 itely rounded forms as that of the Capitoline Venus ; 
 but it is interesting to study out their original designs. 
 At Ives' is a little girl who has carelessly tossed her- 
 self down upon a rustic seat^ and with her feet 
 stretched out, her head thrown back, and the wind 
 blowing her curls about her smiling face, she is well 
 named " Sans Souci (without care). " The Truant " 
 is another wild little lassie, who, instead of going to 
 school, has run off to the beach ; and, just now, she 
 has forgotten everything else while listening to the 
 murmuring of a sea-shell which she holds to her ear. 
 A tiny beggar boy holds out his hand, while on his 
 face is the long-practiced expression of deep distress. 
 At Rogers' that which most captivated my fancy 
 was " Nydia," the blind girl in the "Last Days of 
 Pompeii." You remember her do you not? that she 
 was lost from Glaucus during the thickest darkness? 
 Well, she is now searching for him, leaning forward 
 that her sensitive ear may detect ever so faint an echo 
 of his voice. Her form is slight, and yet her face very 
 mature. There is a Euth gleaning in the field, and an 
 Isaac bound upon the sacrificial altar waiting calmly 
 the stroke of his father's knife, both of which are to be 
 at the Philadelphia Exposition. In fact, I am every 
 once in a while stumbling upon something which is to 
 be taken there. For instance, we were in a cameo store 
 the other day, and the man showed us a whole case of 
 
LETTER FORTY. 367 
 
 designs intended for that purpose. They were shell 
 cameos, and he has them in various stages of develop- 
 ment. There is first a plain oval cut out of a conch 
 shell; second, is the same with the head of a woman 
 marked on it with a black pencil, or something; 
 thirdly, the first coat of the shell is removed from the 
 edge of the oval to the lines of the head; lastly, is all 
 complete, that is, the woman is finished in the white 
 part of the shell, and stands out in relief upon the 
 brown second coat. Stone cameos, more precious 
 than shell, are made in the same way, by selecting 
 such stones as are white on one side and dark on the 
 other, then cutting away all the white except the 
 picture desired. I never knew before by what pro- 
 cess these ornaments were made, and perhaps, you 
 have never seen it. But I must return to the studios. 
 You know Miss Hosmer is an American woman of 
 about forty-five now. She has been a great many years 
 in Rome, and has acquired some note. She was very 
 delicate when a child, and as her mother died while 
 she was still young, her father let her run wild out of 
 doors in order to increase her strength. She was con- 
 stantly in some mischief, and when at the age of six- 
 teen, played a practical joke on her father. She wrote 
 to a Boston paper a notice of his death; and, as he 
 was a man of some note, the papers soon came out in 
 mourning with comments on his character. This was 
 what she wanted, to see what would be said of him after 
 his death. This mad-cap trick caused her father to 
 
368 MISS HOSMER. 
 
 send her to boarding school, where she would have to 
 be busy, and learn to behave herself. She finally 
 went to a medical school in St. Louis in order to 
 study anatomy, for she bad decided to become a 
 sculptress. At the close of the term, she took a 
 notion to go down the Mississippi to New Orleans. 
 On the way, a certain height was pointed out as one 
 impossible to climb. 
 
 *'I can climb it," said she instantly, and, at her 
 request, the captain stopped the boat to let her make 
 the attempt; and, to this day, Hosmer's Heights wear 
 the name given by her determined spirit. 
 
 In the city of St. Louis is now one of her most noted 
 works the monument of Thomas Benton. I haven't 
 time now to write you what we saw in her tastefully ar- 
 ranged studio, fori must close. We have met with no 
 adventure here which need make you uneasy. Miss 
 Shaw, from Virginia, goes with us all the time. She 
 is very, very intelligent, and claims to be much older 
 than either of us. She styles herself our protectress, 
 and her gray hairs fit her for the office. She is econ- 
 omical, too, and that suits us and our purses. It will 
 not be long now till time to return home, and with so 
 many things to learn each day, it will seem even shorter 
 than the reality. Write soon again to your daughter, 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
LETTEE FORTY-ONE. S69 
 
 LETTER XLI. 
 
 KoME, February 10, 1876. 
 Dear Brother Graham : 
 
 I RE our letters from Rome disappointing you ? 
 
 :Are you expecting to hear of moonlight visits to 
 the Colosseum ; of sunset views from Monte Pincio ; 
 of high masses at St. Peters? In short, do you ex- 
 pect us to attempt in five or six letters, a description of 
 Rome? We have been here five weeks, and have worked 
 every day except three, when an oppressive Sirocco, 
 laden with rain kept us in doors. If professional tour- 
 ists can, in one week, introduce their parties to subter- 
 ranean, unburied and later-day Rome, you may be 
 sure we are, by this time, somewhat acquainted with 
 its wonders. In fact, we have dived into gloomy 
 depths, scrambled over broken ruins aud wandered 
 through palatial halls, till the word " limitless " is quite 
 as definite as any description we could give of what we 
 have seen. Perhaps by restricting myself to one little 
 excursion, I can give you an idea of the confused host 
 of associations which spring up at every step. 
 
 It was last Friday we raised our courage to the point 
 of planning for the day a drive of some miles out the 
 Appian Way. You may not understand why there 
 should be need of courage; but if you had seen us 
 
 24 
 
370 APPIAN WAY. 
 
 that morning taking off rings, watches, breast-pins, 
 and necklaces, yoii might have guessed the nature of 
 our anticipated danger. You might have recalled the 
 fact that less than a year ago four American ladies 
 were politely relieved of all such valuables, as they 
 were reviewing the road by which the Apostle Paul en- 
 tered Eome, Mon. L. advised us to retain a few extra 
 francs in our purses, lest we should insult the expected 
 brigand. You may be sure Kate and I were not 
 going alone. " The coffee-pot woman " was to accom- 
 pany us, and we thought her voice might terrify an 
 ordinary highwayman. We had additional reasons for 
 feeling secure under the protection of Miss Shaw, who 
 has been with us ever since we left Florence. A few 
 days before, as she and three other ladies were stand- 
 ing in an open piazza, in front of a closed church, one 
 of them screamed out: — 
 "That fellow has my purse." 
 
 She had felt a hand in her pocket, and turning saw 
 the thief making olf with his booty. He was passing 
 Miss Shaw, at that instant, when she suddenly pounced 
 upon him, pressed him forcibly to the wall and held 
 him by the collar till he was glad to relinquish the 
 purse. The unexpected attack so unmanned him that 
 he made little resistance. Miss Shaw was such a hero- 
 ine for two whole days after that, it may be some of 
 us were hoping the Appian Way might afford opportu- 
 nity for similar display of prowess. At any rate, we 
 repaired at an early hour to the Piazza di Spagna in 
 order to find a carriage. Now there are scarcely five 
 
LETTER FORTY-ONE. 371 
 
 minutes in the day but some traveler enters this center 
 of the Stranger's Quarter, so it seems half the popula- 
 tion of Rome is stationed there to welcome new arriv- 
 als. Imagine, then, what a commotion six of us would 
 excite by appearing all together upon this square. 
 Beggars, peddlers, and coachmen alike felt the mag- 
 netic influence, and we were instantly hemmed in by a 
 triple line of clamorous mortality. The complaining 
 whine of the pauper, the persuasive tone of the orange- 
 vender, the harsh grating of crowded wheels, made 
 indeed a distracting medley. The beggars wouldn't 
 understand that we had left our money at home; ped- 
 dlers didn't see why we shouldn't take a few of their 
 beautiful cameos and mosaics to please the Appian 
 Way banditti ; this coachman would take us for nine- 
 teen francs, if that one would for twenty, but each was 
 determined to cheat us as much as possible. At last 
 we were suited, we found a vehicle large enough for 
 five, while the sixth shared the driver's box. We found 
 him disposed to chat, and while there was nothing else 
 to do we listened. Amons: other thino;s he told us he 
 had been a soldier under Garibaldi. 
 
 " Indeed," he said, " the General always drives in 
 this very carriage, when he comes out. If you wish 
 to visit him, any time, just let me know and I will take 
 you out and introduce 3^ou." 
 
 How we regretted that we had, a week before, made 
 a formal call upon the " General;" perhaps had we 
 been presented by this old friend (!) he might have 
 granted us a longer interview. 
 
372 ANCIENT EUINS. 
 
 Our way led us past the now familiar ruins of the 
 Eoman Forum, along the Palatine crowned with rem- 
 nants of the Csesars ; beneath the Arch of Titus, orna- 
 mented with a relief of the candlestick from Jerusalem ; 
 under the Arch of Constantine, enduring witness to his 
 triumphs ; over the unmarked spot where stood the 
 Porta Capena at which the returning Cicero was met by 
 friends. On our right stood out against the sky the 
 red, shrub-capped towers into which time has broken 
 the thick walls of Caracalla's Baths; on the left a 
 winding road leads to the Fountain of Egeria from 
 whose waters Numa Pompilius imbibed the wisdom to 
 rule his people in peace. 
 
 Once beyond the Portia St. Sebastiano, the thought 
 of robbers began again to haunt us. Who could tell 
 how many of these dreadful creatures were hidden by 
 the walls, which now shut off all view, except where 
 here and there, some fragment of a tomb or tall, 
 straight cypress rose above it. Suddenly a dark form 
 appeared above the obstructing wall — so motionless 
 and erect, we thought it made from somber-tinted mar- 
 ble, but as we came nearer, the head turned and a low 
 whistle greeted our ears. A minute after and we 
 heard an answering whistle. For what mischief was 
 this the signal? How many besides these two might 
 be waiting for it? None, I suppose, for we never saw 
 the scarecrow afterwards ; and as we were returning, 
 our coachman informed us that there is now no need 
 to feel any fear of robbers, for there are guards sta- 
 
LETTER FORTY-ONE. 373 
 
 tioned at intervals along the way to prevent their de- 
 predations. 
 
 After two miles the monotony of stone walls is 
 terminated, on the one hand by the ruins of a gothic 
 church, on the other by a round structure, resting upon 
 a square base and finished at the top with mediaeval bat- 
 tlements. With no previous knowledge of its design, 
 one would think this simply an ancient fortress. It is 
 seventy feet in diameter, and the firm masonry of 
 hewn stone which forms the circular portion, is still in 
 good repair. The base is a conglomerate of rough 
 materials held together by the marvelous Eoman ce- 
 ment. Fragments of au ornamental frieze with reliefs 
 of garlanded ox-heads, still remain as evidence that 
 the whole was once covered with marble. In fact, the 
 rest of this precious coating was taken away by Pope 
 Urban VIII., and nature, as if to reprove the desecra- 
 tion, has furnished another covering of tiny trees, 
 light green shrubs, and dark, clinging ivy. The mar- 
 ble thus taken was used to build the Fountain of Trevi, 
 and over this fountain is an inscription attributing its 
 existence to the munificence of Urban. I never knew, 
 until I came to Rome, the significance of this term. 
 It occurs everywhere, and means that Pope So-and-so 
 has despoiled this or that splendid monument of an- 
 tiquity to erect an inferior one to his own memory. 
 Could the husband of Cecelia Mettella return, and 
 behold the state to which Urban has reduced the tomb 
 of his wife, I am not sure he would exclaim, " Mun- 
 
374 ANCIENT TOMBS. 
 
 ificent Holy Father." What would he think of the 
 surrounding battlements — what would be his reflec- 
 tions, could he enter, as we did, and see the earth 
 fallen in till no one can so much as find the niche in 
 which the beloved dead was placed, I leave you to ima- 
 gine. Perhaps he would be glad to find the sarcopha- 
 gus, adorned with struggling Amazons, pursuing 
 hunters or struggling racers, even in the long corridor 
 of the Vatican. No doubt, as he watched the work- 
 men rear the magnificent pile, as he gave freely of his 
 means to perfect it, he thought it would stand resplen- 
 dant throughout all time. But since the days when 
 Crassus built so carefully this proof of devotion to 
 the dead Cecelia, there has come the practical age — 
 the age in which the sight of anything not intended 
 for use has made man restless. The same age which 
 treated the Colosseum as a stone-quarry andiron-mine, 
 converted into imposing fortresses, the grand tombs of 
 the Appian Way. I am sorry these mementoes of 
 past history have not been left untouched ; but I sup- 
 pose it was necessary to mar them in order that man 
 might devise a new and better way to perpetuate his 
 name 
 
 But I'll admit we did not tarry long enough at this 
 one spot to mature all these reflections. The view 
 beyond was too enchanting, as we were now freed from 
 the imprisoning walls and, began to realize that we 
 were indeed upon the broad Campagna. For miles 
 and miles extended the level plain till bounded by the 
 far-off blue of the Alban and Sabine Mountains. On 
 
LETTER FORTr-ONE. 375 
 
 the left, were the long, unvarying lines of arch-sup- 
 ported aqueducts, nearer the picturesque ruins of once 
 frequented villas, while our road stretched forward in 
 a never diverging course though a forest of fantastic 
 stone heaps. For four miles we drove along this 
 strange avenue^ while, ever and anon, an inscription 
 on some shapeless mass would connect it with some 
 never-to-be-forgotten name. Here, once rested the 
 body of Seneca; beneath those great twin mounds, 
 were buried the Horatii, and their antagonists ; and 
 finally our carriage halted where centuries ago paused 
 the bier with the departed friend of Horace. Cece- 
 lia's tomb becomes dwarfed at sight of this. Fifty 
 feet of its former height still remain, and the top 
 affords room for a farm house with an orchard of six- 
 teen flourishing olive trees. We were allowed to have 
 a view from this novel farm-yard, and thus take in as 
 a whole the road over which we had passed and its con- 
 tinuation to Albano. But there is no time for me to 
 write, or you to read, further description, lean not 
 tell you, how we stopped at the Catacombs of St. 
 Calixtus, on our return and wandered through their 
 gloomy depths ; I can not mention the curious relics at 
 the church of St. Sebastian ; I must pass unnoticed 
 the family vault of the Scipios ; even the Columbaria 
 where the ashes of Caesar's household are treasured 
 up, must be described by another. The only way to 
 avoid making my letter too long is to subscribe myself 
 immediately. 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
376 PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 
 
 LETTER XLII. 
 
 EoME, February 12, 1876. 
 Dear Brother South: 
 
 fam too tired to begin a letter to-night ; but I want 
 to talk to you at least a few minutes. I have be- 
 fore me your last two letters; and, if I answer them 
 as they deserve, I shall certainly commit the indiscre- 
 tion or writing one of your kind of Jove-letters. In- 
 deed you should not tempt me into telling you how 
 every day you become more and more a part of 
 myself, how it is becoming more and more a habit with 
 me to think of my life only as associated with yours. 
 I am widely separated from you now, it is true; but 
 there is not an hour in the day that I do not think of 
 you, and of the influence which the actions of the hour 
 must have upon our common future. If I rejoice that 
 by this trip to Europe I have found a new world, I re- 
 joice the more that I can share its beauties with you. 
 If I pluck a flower as a souvenir of some lovely or 
 curious spot, I press it with the thought that you shall 
 see it, and that the memories awakened by its fragrance 
 shall be a pleasure to you, as well. But you say: — 
 *'If your thoughts are so often of me, why speak 
 of working alone two years longer? '* 
 
LETTER FORTY-TWO. 377 
 
 You think two years a great while to wait. To be 
 candid, I am of the same opinion. It will be harder to 
 leave you next fall than it was that day in Cincinnati. 
 During these. months of absence I have subjected my- 
 self, as well as you, to a trial of faithfulness, and I am 
 almost surprised at the result. I have, in a former ex- 
 perience, been led to doubt my capacity for unswerving 
 attachment ; I feared to say, " I love you," lest, after 
 all, there should be a mistake. But I know myself 
 better now ; I know the only reason I have changed 
 before is because I had not met my other self. You 
 are the only man whose influence upon me has always 
 been to make me better. You cause me to desire more 
 earnestly than ever the suppression of every unworthy 
 trait of character. You may be sure, then, that I long 
 to be more with you, and that only the force of neces- 
 sity has driven me to ask a further separation. Your 
 attempted refutation of my argument amounts to 
 nothing. I am not taking " ayixious" thought about 
 the future. I believe if I do always that which my best 
 judgment dictates, and your own reason approves, 
 there will be no cause for anxiety. 
 
 Christ does not mean that weare to be improvident, 
 but simply that our first thought should be of the 
 Kingdom of God. In my planning for our future 
 that is my controlling thought. We must be very 
 careful to take upon ourselves no responsibilities which 
 are likely to hinder us in a good work. If you and I 
 had only to make ourselves happy there would be no 
 need of tedious delays. Th6 calico and the cottage 
 
378 RESPONSIBILITIES. 
 
 would be enouo;h for me if I thouo;ht these would af- 
 ford me opportunity for doing the greatest good of 
 which I am capable. It is usually the case that preach- 
 ers are hindered by the difficulties of making a sup- 
 port. Then must they be continually anxious about the 
 morrow. I want to save you from such a fate. You 
 say I am giving you grief, but you will endure it for 
 my sake. You are very good, but I will let you 
 endure it for your own sake. Now, we understand 
 each other : and when we meet in New York we need 
 not discuss again the painful subject of the new sepa- 
 ration. We will be happy, and take no anxious thought 
 for the morrow, trusting that the Good Father may 
 reward our every prayerful effort. And, after all, two 
 years are not so long; why, two months of it are 
 already gone. 
 
 I send you another flower or two for your ' ' well- 
 preserved collection," an anemone and some violets. 
 They are from the Villa Ludovisi, the beautiful home 
 till recently occupied by the wife of Victor Emanuel, 
 the Countess Mariefiori. It is most delightful to ram- 
 ble at will over these villa grounds beneath the un- 
 clouded sun and amid an atmosphere as balmy as 
 springtime. We have really seen no winter since com- 
 ing to Kome. It tried to snow once, but failed. We 
 have nearly finished Eome and have set Wednesday to 
 go to Naples. There is an eruption of Vesuvius 
 promised for the twentieth ; but many think this is only 
 a false report circulated to attract a greater number of 
 visitors to Naples. It would be quite a novelty to 
 
LETTER FORTY-TWO. 379 
 
 witness the outbreak of the great volcano, but we are 
 not going for that. It is simply the next thing on our 
 programme. 
 
 Monday Night. — You will wonder why this letter 
 has not been finished. When I shall have told you 
 what we did yesterday, you will cease to wonder. Mr. 
 Stevens, an enthusiastic English Baptist, accompanied 
 me and Kate first to the American Baptist Church. 
 The house in which they meet is directly opposite the 
 extensive palace in which Parliament holds its sessions. 
 It is a small room on the ground floor, and when we 
 entered it was nearly empty. One or two at a time, 
 however, dropped quietly in, till there were fifty voices 
 in the opening chorus of praise. The leader of the 
 singing was evidently a native, and I was much pleased 
 with his remarkably earnest face — remarkable, I mean, 
 for an Italian. Mr, S. whispered me that this was 
 Prof. Cocorda, the regular preacher at the church, and 
 that he had himself translated from the English the 
 little book of songs from which they were singing. A 
 man with light hair and beard, blue eyes and florid 
 complexion sat near the tiny pulpit, and he, as I in- 
 ferred, was the missionary. After some five or six 
 hymns, he arose and began to speak on a subject sug- 
 gested by the sentiments of the last: ** In the Arms of 
 Jesus." His Italian was rather amusing on account of 
 his drawling tone, but I was surprised to find myself 
 understanding a great deal of it. He spoke half an 
 hour, I suppose, then the singing was resumed. Mr. 
 S. says this little speech on Sunday afternoon is all 
 
380 PROTESTANT CHURCHES. 
 
 the part Dr. Taylor has in the preaching. Prof. Co- 
 corda is the regular minister, while Dr. Taylor super- 
 intends the school. I was introduced to him after 
 services, and learned that he is from Virginia and has 
 been here nearly three years. I inquired with what 
 success he had met. 
 
 " Oh I a little," he said, " but there are many dis- 
 couragements." 
 
 "Yes," spoke up his son, "the Italians are one 
 thing to-day and the opposite to-morrow." 
 
 There are twenty regular members of the congrega- 
 tion, as the result of two years' work. Dr. T. is sup- 
 ported by the Southern Association of Baptists. 
 There seems to be no want of money for his work, at 
 least he spoke as if he were not troubled by that need. 
 My impression is that he is not as spirited a man 
 as the English Baptist, Mr. Wall. The latter has 
 been here nearly four years and has made a hundred 
 converts. Mr. W. does his own preaching, and the 
 people hear him eagerly, though his Italian is not ele- 
 gant. 
 
 From the Baptist we repaired to the Waldensian 
 church, on the Via della Virginia — strange place for 
 such bitter opponents of the Immaculate Conception 
 Dogma. Their chapel is large enough to seat one 
 hundred and fifty. The minister, Mr. Weitzecker, 
 has a mixture of Italian and German blood, and 
 appears a man of force. Most of those who came in 
 before services began were respectably dressed, and, I 
 think, were native Waldensians ; for they are a more 
 
LETTER FORTY-TWO. 381 
 
 sturdy class than the rest of Italians. They have a 
 manly, honest, self-respectf ul , independent air, which 
 is far from characteristic of the Holy Father's obedient 
 children. Throughout the discourse a more shabby 
 class of Romans came stamping in, and these, I think, 
 were Catholic converts. My opinion is, that the 
 membership is principally of those who have come 
 down from their mountain shadowed homes since they 
 are no longer persecuted. 
 
 At seven p. m. we found ourselves in a little upper 
 chamber, in an obscure street, waiting with a small 
 number of Italians for another sermon. A hymn was 
 sung; a prayer was made by an ordinary-looking man; 
 the tenth chapter of Hebrews, from the fifteenth to the 
 twenty-fifth verse was read ; and a second song was 
 just closed when a never-to-be-forgotten form appeared 
 in the door-way at the left of the pulpit. The next 
 instant the same form was half concealed by the pulpit ; 
 for Gavazzi has a peculiar gliding motion which seems 
 to annihilate space. 
 
 Yes, we were going to hear Gavazzi again, right here 
 in his own church. I wish I could make you see his 
 admirable head with the grayish hair combed straight 
 back from the brow; his laughably swollen cheeks; 
 his keen eye; his indescribable mouth. Every gesture, 
 so unlike those of any one else, proves himself a 
 genius, and it would require pages to describe the 
 varying curves of his body, arms, fingers, and mouth. 
 We listened till his argument for Justification by faith 
 was ended, and the benediction was pronounced, when 
 
382 GAVAZZI. 
 
 we went up and asked the privilege of shaking hands 
 with him. He invited us into his little adjoining 
 room, spoke of his visit to America in '52, and again 
 in '72, and of his intention to come again in July. He 
 asked us from what State we were, smiled at us good- 
 naturedly, shook hands with us again, and bade us 
 good night. Do you wonder now that I did not finish 
 this letter yesterday? Eudora. 
 
 LETTER XLin. 
 
 Naples, February, 17, 1876. 
 
 Master AdolpJius Lindsay : 
 
 'OUR long-looked-for letter came at last about a 
 week ago ; and, to show you that I appreciate 
 the one page you have so neatly written, I will reply 
 at once. You shall have the honor of my first letter 
 from Naples. Perhaps you think this city is only a 
 round black spot on your map of Europe. Well, I 
 used to have that opinion of it, but that's all a mis- 
 take. Let me help you to form an idea of it. Im- 
 agine Glencoe, instead of being only large enough for 
 a croquet ground, spread out till our house would be in 
 town ; imagine that Eagle, instead of a muddy creek, 
 should all at once, become a body of deep blue water. 
 
LETTEE FOETT-THEEB. 883 
 
 its waters so extensive, that when standing on one 
 shore the other would be as far away as the sky. 
 Don't make this shore a straight line either, but let 
 the waters come into the form of a bent bow, and then 
 bring the houses of Glencoe down to the very beach. 
 But that is not all . In all Glencoe there are not as 
 many people as you see here every three steps. And 
 there are not as many kinds of people either. Here 
 there are old men with clean faces and decent clothes, 
 old men with the dirt of sixty summers upon their skin 
 and almost as much upon their clothes ; there are young 
 men in the new blue uniforms of soldiers, or broad, 
 turned back collars of sailors; there are others whose 
 only business is to pick the pocket of careless strangers ; 
 there are little boys who never were taught anything 
 but to holdout their hands and beg; there are numbers 
 of little girls who follow the s;.'me trade. So you see 
 you must magnify Glencoe >nsiderably, in order to 
 form any idea of the city oi Xaples. But I will tell 
 you some of my first impressijns. We arrived here 
 yesterday at four in the afternoon. It took us nearly 
 all day to come from Rome here. The pink of sunset 
 had already died away from the smoke of Vesuvius, so 
 the whole top of this famous volcano was hidden in a 
 leaden vapor. The bay had changed its sky-tint for 
 one almost black, and this made still whiter the wing- 
 like sails of the pretty boats upon its surface. We 
 were met at the station by Signor Cherubine, a clean- 
 looking Italian, who proves to be the husband of the 
 German pension-keeper. Under his direction we were 
 
384 FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 seated in a little carriage, Miss Shaw and Kate on the 
 back seat, while I sat facing them on a seat fastened 
 by a hinge to the front. Besides this, the driver and a 
 servant of the pension sat on the box. Now, you may 
 imagine what a load for one horse — no, not one 
 horse, but a half one. " Old Bet " is a dashing steed 
 compared with the poor broken-down creature to 
 which all this burden was fastened. But Mr. Driver 
 cracked the whip gaily, and away bounded the animated 
 skeleton. Every second the heartless wretch gave a 
 sounding stroke till the blood would have come through 
 the tough hide of the beast, had not this fluid been so 
 scarce. We didn't understand why he drove so furi- 
 ously, till we passed another similarly laden vehicle. 
 The horse attached to this was really staggering under 
 the lashes of its driver, which were now redoubled, as 
 he found himself about to be left behind. Yes; they 
 were really racing with these miserable, half-starved 
 animals, each one drawing five grown people over a 
 street paved with smooth blocks of lava. First one 
 was ahead then the other, but at last our rival had to 
 give it up. When the excitement of the race was 
 over, we began to breathe more freely, but this did 
 not greatly increase our comfort; for, with each 
 breath, we took in such a mixture of disgusting odors 
 that only the emptiness of our stomachs kept us from 
 turning sick. These horrid smells came from the 
 streets and from the filthy throng of people through 
 which we were making our way. After reaching our 
 pension, and performing some needed abulations, we 
 
LETTER FORTY-THREE. " 385 
 
 went out to find a book store, that we might purchase 
 a guide. We followed the street along the haj, and 
 watched the water which rolls upon the beach as pure 
 white foam as if it were not in contact with the dirtiest 
 city in Europe. We passed shops filled with beautiful 
 jewelry made of coral, tortoise shell, and Vesuvius 
 lava ; other shops with windows displaying photographs 
 of the lovely views from the hills around Naples. 
 
 Next morning we started out early to visit the great 
 museum. I wish you could see the people that we 
 saw that morning, indeed that we see every day. We 
 were frightened at the black eyes of the Genoese ; but 
 I don't know how we would have felt had we come 
 first to Naples. As it is, we have become so used to 
 the Italians that we can walk coolly through a host of 
 them, pushing them good-humoredl}' out of the way, 
 if they are crowded upon the pavement. But in 
 Naples they are so dirty, one doesn't like to touch 
 them; yet touching them can not be avoided, for there 
 are four hundred and fifty thousand here on a space 
 not more than nine miles in circumference. Besides, 
 one must make room for the donkeys. These things 
 are not bigger than Newfoundland dogs, but it is won- 
 derful to see the load they can carry. Their masters 
 put upon their backs a peculiar kind of basket, or 
 sack. It is a four cornered piece of straw matting 
 about five feet long and four broad; this is sewed 
 together at each end and about a foot up the sides, 
 thus making at each end of it a kind of catch-all. 
 This is put across the donkey's back, both ends are 
 
 25 
 
386 A STREET SCENE. 
 
 crammed as tight as possible with cabbages, turnips, 
 artichokes, or other vegetables, till nothing but legs or 
 ears of the ugly beast is left visible. The movements 
 of the animal are guided by its tail being moved right 
 or left by its master. Dozens and dozens of these are 
 to be met coming in any morning. The vegetables on 
 top of donkey's back are first sold and then the owner 
 takes their place, for he never thinks of letting the 
 poor thing rest. They make one donkey draw wagon 
 loads of fagots sufficient for two good horses. They 
 would fall down under such loads, but their masters 
 walk beside them and prop them up. But ragged 
 children are more abundant than braying donkeys. 
 We had walked scarcely a square when one of these, 
 a boy about your size, came in front of us and began 
 turning hand-springs for our amusement. He did it 
 quite dextrously, but as we hadn't bargained for a 
 circus, we didn't see the point when he asked for a 
 soldo (a cent). It was about ten when we reached the 
 museum, and for five hours we were enabled to forget 
 the squalid streets without. I'll not tell you what 
 wonderful things we saw there, for I know you are 
 more interested in the boys and girls. At three 
 o'clock we started back home. When about half way 
 one of the many orange sellers, whose baskets of yellow 
 fruit brighten every corner, held up three very tempt- 
 ino; ones and ofiered them to us for two cents. 
 
 " Here's five for two cents ! " interrupted a boy, 
 presenting them as he spoke. 
 
LETTEE FORTY-THEEE. 387 
 
 "Here are six," cried a third, and in a moment I 
 was surrounded by a whole group of these would-be 
 sellers, and I was anxious to buy from the most liberal. 
 
 I put my hand in my pocket for my purse, but before 
 it was drawn out the boys and girls began fighting over 
 their prospects and a number of most frightful looking 
 men added themselves to the crowd. I saw in a moment 
 what was their interest in the bargain; they wanted a 
 chance to seize my purse. With my hands full of 
 oranges I would have been at their mercy, but I thought 
 of this in time. I tore myself from their midst, and as 
 hastily as possible left the pursuing boys and rising 
 behind. In another street a single boy was standing 
 in a quiet corner, and I thought, " Now's my chance." 
 I turned up the side street where I get out my money 
 unobserved, then bought two oranges for a cent. One 
 man witnessed this, and two squares further on we 
 stopped to look at a church when I found this man was 
 following us. I turned round and looked him steadily 
 in the eye a few minutes ; he saw I understood his 
 intentions and left off following me. In fact, Naples 
 is full of cowardly pickpockets, but you are in no 
 danger, if you are always on your guard. 
 
 Febeuary 20. — I went this morning to leave my 
 address at the Consul's, in order that Vachel might find 
 us upon his arrival. The Consul kindly took charge of 
 it, and said he would give it to my brother. From 
 here we went with Miss Shaw to her banker's to 
 inquire for letters, and then returned to our pension; 
 
388 A NEW ARRIVAL., 
 
 for on Sunday we do not go sight-seeing, and there 
 was no church convenient. We opened the door which 
 leads from the stair-landing into the hall, and what do 
 you think met us? A great, black-whiskered fellow, 
 who, without a word, threw Lis arms about me, and 
 gave me a sounding kiss right in presence of the land- 
 lady. You didn't know I had an Italian sweetheart; 
 did you? Neither did I ; and I wouldn't have for the 
 crown of Italy. The man with big whiskers was not 
 an Italian, but a young M. D. from Vienna. He came 
 in last night, and only five minutes after I left my 
 address at the Consul's, he had called to inquire for it. 
 We were rejoiced to see him, and he can now accom- 
 pany us on all our expeditions. We expect to go 
 to-morrow to Vesuvius, next day to Pompeii, then to 
 Sorrento. On Thursday we shall stay in the city to 
 see the Carnival, on Friday go again to the museum, 
 then Saturday back to Rome. I don't think you need 
 be uneasy; Vesuvius seeihs perfectly calm. V. has 
 just gone out to hunt up one of his Vienna friends, 
 who is at a hotel in the city. He will write soon. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
LETTER FORTY-FOUR. 389 
 
 LETTER XLIV. 
 
 EoME, February 27, 1876. 
 Dear Bro. South : 
 
 tWELVE days ago, February 15th, we went to 
 the banker's to request that our mail be kept 
 by him till further orders, instead of being sent, 
 as usual, to onr pension. We were to start next day 
 for Naples, and thought the mail would be safer at 
 the bank. I knew the interval of ten days, without 
 news from home, must seem long ; but I was consoled 
 when Mr. Posey handed me a last token in the form of 
 an official envelope with the expressive motto: 
 " United we stand, divided we fall." The news of 
 legislative proceedings found within was quite inter- 
 esting. I am sorry Kentucky intends to leave herself 
 unmentioned in the great national exposition. A little 
 gush of patriotism, once in a century, would hardly 
 upset the financial arrangements of any State. 
 
 Well, we took the 9 : 20 train for Naples next morn- 
 ing, and, after a tedious journey of seven hours, found 
 ourselves in the hands of Neapolitan coachmen. You 
 may wonder why I say '* tedious journey," since we 
 were passing over new territory ; but no other word de- 
 scribe sit so well. To be sare, as we passed the Volsci 
 Mountains, and recalled the fact that in their fastnesses 
 
390 MOUNTAIN SCENERY. 
 
 Catiline found his allies, we tried to think them grand 
 and imposing ; but in truth, they are quite tame after 
 the Alps. On the other side were the Alban Moun- 
 tains whose blue tint makes them charming from a 
 distance, but nearer they are merely almost barren 
 hills. An antiquated. town is pointed out as the birth- 
 place of Cicero, and further on is Velletri where the 
 infancy of Csesar Augustus was spent. Beyond, this 
 the Campagna accompanies us all the way, and I am 
 glad to say, further south its rich soil is made to pro- 
 duce a triple crop of mulberries, grapes, and wheat. 
 Numbers of men and women were at work preparing it 
 with spades. Large orchards of olive trees, too, oc- 
 curred, with here and there blooming almonds. I 
 thought of the twelfth chapter of Ecclesiastes, which I 
 had reread the night before, according to your sugges- 
 tion. The bloom is pink, like that of the peach tree 
 when it first opens, but soon the flush dies away and the 
 beauty of the preacher's comparison becomes evident. 
 It is difficult, amidst blooming meadows and orchards, 
 to realize that this is midwinter — not midwinter either, 
 for the season is almost gone before we have scarcely 
 felt its coming. 
 
 I'll not tell you how beautiful seemed the bay as we 
 drove along its edge that first evening in Naples, nor 
 what new delight the sight of it each day afforded. 
 Kate's letter to the Times will give you an idea 
 of what drawbacks there are to the enjoyment of 
 Naples and its suburbs. In fact, after an excursion to 
 Baia over a road along the beach and past picturesque 
 
LETTEE FOETY-rOUE. 391 
 
 towns, I returned home so full of disgust and con- 
 tempt at the degraded mass of humanity with which 
 we came in contact, that this feeling far outweighed 
 the pleasure. Our trip to Vesuvius was another of 
 the same nature. We went the night before to the 
 " Bureau for Decent Carriages " in order to engage a 
 vehicle for the next day. There is a nice public con- 
 veyance which charges seven francs for each passenger, 
 so we determined to pay no more than that for a car- 
 riage. We were directed to No. 50, Via della Pace, 
 where we found, not a livery stable, but a drug store. 
 The lazy-looking druggist bade us sit down till he could 
 call some one. After ten minutes a forlorn specimen 
 of a Neapoliton woman made her appearance, and to 
 her we applied for the carriage. 
 
 " Haw much will that cost ! '■' asked Miss S. 
 
 " Thirty francs, and five for the driver," was the 
 moderate response. 
 
 "No, no," answered Miss S., "we'll give you 
 twenty." 
 
 The woman shrugged her shoulders with an air of 
 contempt, and the same emotion was expressed by the 
 mockino; lauo-h of half a dozen vao;abond men who had 
 dropped in to witness the transaction. We were in no 
 wise daunted by the cowardly creatures, but finally 
 raised our offer to the intended twenty-five. 
 
 "No, thirty," persisted the woman. 
 
 At this we turned and left with the intention to go 
 rather in the public brake. 
 
 "Let's make one more effort," I suggested as we 
 
392 LAVA FIELDS. 
 
 reached the corner of the next block. " Let's inquire 
 where to find another bureau." 
 
 We were then in front of a brightly-lighted picture 
 store, and the gentlemanly dealer offered to send his 
 servant to show us the way. 
 
 "Madam! Madam!" called a voice behind us, as 
 we turned to follow, "you may have it for twenty- 
 five." 
 
 This shows you how honorable, how full of self- 
 respect Neapolitan business men are. They found we 
 were determined not to be imposed upon, so they con- 
 cluded to be reasonable in their demands. 
 
 The carriage came at eight next morning, and found 
 us ready to start. Kate has told you how we were 
 beset by beggars at every place on the way in Portici, 
 the summer resort of Neapolitan aristocracy ; 'in Torre 
 del Greco, where we passed through avenues of maca- 
 roni ; at Resina, whose foundations are the roofs of 
 buried Herculaneum. At this last place we had to 
 engage a guide and horse, the former for the party, 
 the latter for Kate to ride from the Observatory to the 
 foot of the cone. They insisted that we should take 
 a horse for each, but we declined ; so our guide 
 mounted the box with the driver, and our journey was 
 resumed. 
 
 "We now entered the lava fields of '59, adjoining 
 which are those of '68. To describe the great black 
 masses of the slowly cooled matter is impossible. No 
 one can imagine the fantastic shapes it has assumed ; 
 scorpions, serpents, human skeletons, forms of name- 
 
LETTER FORTY-FOUR. 393 
 
 less hideousness, appear in confused, constantly- 
 repeated groups. Through it a good mountain road 
 has been cut, and much of the lava is quarried into 
 paving stones for Rome and Naples. Our three horses 
 were allowed to move quite leisurely up this gradual 
 ascent, so it was nearly twelve when we reached the 
 Observatory. From here there were visible, not only 
 Resina, with the two fields of lava we had passed, but, 
 northeast, the white village of San Sebastiano with the 
 dark track of the last eruption ('72) through its midst. 
 Our carriage stopped at the Hermitage, a low building 
 made from rough blocks of lava, then covered with 
 plaster. In fact, nearly all the little huts clinging to 
 the side of Vesuvius are made of this same material. 
 The Observatory is a neat villa situated upon a little 
 knoll in the midst of flowers. It is like an oasis amid 
 the desolation. Prof . Palmieri resides here to watch 
 the moods of the frightful volcano. The seismograph, 
 an instrument of his invention, is said to foretell erup- 
 tions ; but the reliability of its prophecies may be 
 questioned, for he has set one or two dates now past 
 for the day of wrath. It was to have been on the 
 20th, but on the 22nd we heard no premonitory 
 rumblings. 
 
 We didn't tarry long at the Hermitage. Kate 
 mounted her horse, gave him a stroke with the stick 
 bought at Resina ; we followed at a slow pace, con- 
 gratulating ourselves to escape so easily from the 
 noisy group of guides assembled around the door. A 
 marble slab near the first turn in the road gave us 
 
394 THE ASCENT. 
 
 reason for a little serious thought. It was in memory 
 of eight students who, in 1872, went to the base of the 
 cone to witness the outpouring flames,' when the earth 
 suddenly opened and swallowed them up. We told 
 ourselves that these youths had done a presumptuous 
 thing, and that Providence does not take care of the 
 presumptuous ; but were we not also going presumptu- 
 ously into danger? 
 
 But we were not alone. Numbers of others were on 
 the way with us. One gentleman was with two ladies 
 who pronounced us quite brave to think of making the 
 whole ascent. The gentleman had already been to the 
 crater some years before, and had no desire to make a 
 second visit. He was an American, I think, and 
 seemed quite willing to converse, but they walked too 
 slowly for us. As we left them we were passed by a 
 lady on horseback. She was rather an amusing spec- 
 tacle. Three men were hanging on to her horse's tail, 
 and urging it on at every step. They were running 
 and the horse trotting, while she was jolted up and 
 down till only the pommel saved her from falling off. 
 We laughed, of course, since we were free from such 
 vexation. There was one boy at the tail of Kate's 
 horse ; but as we would not walk fast there was no 
 use for our guide to hurry it into a gallop. This is a 
 common trick of theirs, to rush people along till they 
 are out of breath and thus unable to go up the cone 
 unassisted. We were a whole hour on this part of the 
 road, so, by the time we had seated ourselves for a few 
 minutes' rest at the base, the poor woman who had 
 
LETTER FORTY-rOUR. 395 
 
 ridden so furiously was half way up. There were four 
 men dragging and pushing her without mercy. We 
 ate an orange, waited to feel perfectly fresh again, 
 then declared ourselves ready to begin. I must admit 
 the path looked rather formidable, and the first few 
 steps were, by no means, reassuring. Each foot sank 
 deep into the disintegrated lava, and the effort of draw- 
 ing it out was rewarded by very slight advance. Three 
 fellows, each with a leather strap over his shoulder, were 
 beside us and offered to assist, while our guide hurried 
 on ahead. We called to him to halt, but he heeded on- 
 ly after Brother's tones became threatening. We re- 
 minded him that he had promised to assist Kate with 
 a strap. 
 
 " I ! " he exclaimed with assumed astonishment. 
 " 1 am the guide." 
 
 "Yes, he's the guide," chimed in one of the others, 
 offering his strap again. 
 
 For some time our gentleman guide stoutly re- 
 sented the thought of his wearing a strap, but we told 
 him if he did not, we would take the cost of another 
 man out of his wages. He cooled down at this propo- 
 sition, and gave his arm to Kate. But the others 
 were not yet in despair, for there were two ladies 
 unprovided with help. 
 
 "It's impossible, madam,'* insisted one as I set 
 my stick in the sand and proceeded alone. I told him 
 I was not tired. 
 
 " This is only the commencement, ' was his rejoinder 
 and he walked on quietly. Every two or three min- 
 
396 ON THE BRINK. 
 
 utes he would inquire about my fatigue, and it was 
 quite a satisfaction to assure him that I was perfectly 
 fresh. He sat down at last and called after me: — 
 
 *' Voulez-vous? " (will you) 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " I will walk." 
 
 We rested often and ate oranges to quench our 
 thirst. At the half-way place we were presented a 
 more substantial quencher of thirst. It was a bottle 
 of " Lahrymse Christi," the famous product of the 
 Vesuvian vineyards. We didn't buy, for we felt, 
 more than usual, the need of a steady head. The 
 beautiful white steam was rising in volumes above us, 
 as a favorable wind kept it from enveloping us. 
 Gradually we approached the source of this vapor, and 
 at last stood upon the very brink of the horrid chasm. 
 Here we burned our sticks by thrusting them into a 
 hole in the rock. We watched the depths till the cloud 
 of steam parted, and we could see the flame* them- 
 selves, and their reflection on the dark crater walls. 
 We were not the only party standing upon this dan- 
 gerous ground, for several ladies and gentlemen, after 
 having been carried up in sedan chairs resting on the 
 shoulders of four men, were safely deposited beside 
 us. 
 
 I'll not attempt to describe the view, nor yet the de- 
 scent. It was fun, though, to bound along at such a 
 rapid rate as we did in going down. We went straight 
 down the steepest part, spending eighteen minutes 
 from top to bottom, though the ascent had occupied 
 more than an hour. It was very amusing to meet those 
 
LETTER FORTY-FIVE. 397 
 
 now coming up ; one man being assisted by three, 
 others comfortably seated in chairs with umbrellas 
 over them. Miss Shaw and I felt rather proud of our 
 eat, for we were the only ladies who had gone up un- 
 assisted. We were somewhat fatigued, and our faces 
 were so sunburnt they were really painful. By next 
 morninsr the redness of the sunburn had changed 
 to brown, so you may expect to see me in June with a 
 regular Italian complexion. Just when you will see 
 me I can not yet inform you. Vachel is getting impa- 
 tient to return ; but there is much Kate and I still wish 
 to learn. It may be my last trip to Europe, and I want 
 to make as much of it as possible; but it will be a 
 happy day when we embark for America. Address us 
 in care of American Consul, Paris, and that as soon as 
 you can. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER XLV. 
 
 EoME, February 29, 1876. 
 Dear Brother Graham : 
 
 tHIS is the last and grand day of the Carnival — 
 ^^ to-day the Roman populace enjoy the last surfeit- 
 ing of fun and flesh which is to prepare them for the 
 ensuing forty days Lent. The fast, they say, is in 
 
398 A GRAND CARNIVAL. 
 
 imitation of our Lord's six weeks in the wilderness; 
 I suppose the sprinkling with confetti is in remem- 
 brance of His previous baptism ! If one can judge 
 from the weather, *' Providence smiles " upon such ap- 
 plication of Scripture. It is so enticingly bright and 
 warm, that only the rare privilege of writing to you 
 on the twenty-ninth of February could restrain me 
 from venturing upon the crowded street. Perhaps, 
 too, a little experience in Naples has made me less 
 anxious for a second presentation to King Carnival. 
 We staid a whole day longer than necessary, simply 
 for the sake of witnessing the grand display promised 
 for Thursday. The wife of the King, they said, had 
 contributed four hundred dollars towards defraying 
 expenses, and they had been for weeks at work on the 
 temporary boxes in the two main piazzas. One must 
 pay twenty-five francs for the use of one of these 
 boxes, but, luckily for us, the procession was to pass 
 our boarding house. At three o'clock in the afternoon 
 we were all assembled in the commodious balconies 
 overlooking the bay ; but we heeded not the blue wa- 
 ters except to remark that if they continued so ruffled 
 by the gale, the boat could not go to Capri to-morrow. 
 Not even Vesuvius was favored with a glance, for we 
 were all absorbed in expectation. Every eye was fixed 
 upon the irregular wall of the Palazzo Falcone, which 
 hid from us the Via S. Lucia. Suddenly a crimson 
 and white turban, a loose, flowing mantle and a dark 
 bearded face appeared around the corner ; then another 
 and another, till the foremost man was just beneath 
 
liETTEE FORTY-FIVE. 399 
 
 our window. It needed no programme to tell us these 
 tVenty sedate Turkish horsemen were the advance 
 guard for some distinguished personage yet to appear. 
 Almost instantly a train of ungainly camels came into 
 view. The one in front was bearing the Emir, while 
 the rest were laden with his possessions. His excel- 
 lency kept up a continual bowing to the accompanying 
 crowd of dirty urchins; but I think this was rather 
 due to the movements of his oriental steed. The little 
 pavilion with which he was covered rocked to and fro 
 like the sails of a ship when riding the waves. The 
 camels never once varied their slow, rolling gait in 
 consequence of the music in their rear. This music 
 was made by a band on foot whose robes of crimson, 
 green and purple might have been really of Eastern 
 dye. 
 
 "Those Turks were well gotten up," was Miss 
 Shaw's comment, as the sound of their horns died 
 away, " but I wonder if this is all? " 
 
 We had been an hour waiting for the procession, and 
 now these sham Turks had come and gone in less time 
 than it has taken me to tell it. Was this the whole 
 result of the great preparation which had thrown Na- 
 ples into such commotion for a month past? It could 
 not be. We would sit on the balcony a little longer. 
 Much good it did us. At the end of a quarter of an 
 hour we pronounced the Carnival a humbug, and de- 
 cided to go shopping. Now, in Naples no one can well 
 go anywhere without crossing the Via Roma, the long 
 street which joins the Royal Palace near the bay with 
 
400 A NARROW ESCAPE. 
 
 that of Capodimonte. This thoroughfare, like the 
 Corso in Rome, is always crowded, so we were not sur- 
 prised to find it unusually so on a holiday. We did 
 wonder though why those dozen gentlemen in Scotch 
 caps still had baskets of fresh bouquets in their wag- 
 ons. They should have all been disposed of before the 
 fun was over. 
 
 Many carriages of people were waiting in the Piazza 
 Ferdinando — for what I could not conjecture. At 
 each step locomotion became more difficult. We 
 looked up the street and on either side saw long lines 
 of balconies filled with grinning masks and smiling 
 faces. We were just under the windows of theEoyal 
 Palace, where the soldiers were displaying their new 
 uniforms to the admiring passers-by. 
 
 " They surely intend to amuse themselves some 
 other way yet," said Miss S., looking back uneasily as 
 we became hemmed in by the crowd. 
 
 By dint of strenuous pushing we reached the corner 
 opposite the entrance to Via S. Carlo, on which street 
 were the shops we were aiming to reach. We had 
 only to cross the street now, or rather two streets, for 
 at this point a line of carriages from the Chaia further 
 intercepted our progress. A gens d'arms came to our 
 rescue, stopping the vehicles till we could pass. We 
 beo-an to hope now that we could reach the other side 
 of the piazza. Miss S. was in front opening the way 
 for us smaller specimens of humanity, when the sudden 
 clatter of horse's feet drove us, with the parting 
 crowd, back upon the pavernent. We barely escaped 
 
LETTER FORTY-FIVE. 401 
 
 being trampled under those steel-clad hoofs, but we 
 had no time to tremble at past danger. The horsemen 
 were speedily followed by a carriage which remained 
 stationary in front of us. What magnetic power was 
 there about that plain turnout ? The mass of people in 
 advance turned back, those following pressed nearer 
 and nearer, the two opposite streams from the S. Carlo 
 and the Chaia poured in unceasingly, and there were 
 we as breakers in the midst of this quadruple wave. 
 Bouquets began to be showered down from the over- 
 hanging balconies upon the occupants of that attractive 
 carriage. If we were being crushed we must see what 
 special grace was drawing this marked attention. 
 Was it a tribute to the remarkable beauty of some 
 Italian princess, or what did it mean? 
 
 *' Beauty I far from it I " was our mental ejaculation 
 as we watched the flight of a bunch of flowers from a 
 fair hand in the balcony to the face of the individual 
 at whom it was aimed. 
 
 Instead of the pale, clear, olive cheek of an Italian 
 belle, it was the great, bloated, red jaw of Italy's 
 homeliest son, which thus arrested the flight of the 
 flowers. I wondered that they did not catch and re- 
 main hanging upon the stiff mustache which was 
 fiercely curled half way up to his eyes. We could not 
 fail to recognize the face. Having once seen the mar- 
 velous ugliness of Victor Emanuel's photographed 
 features, one could never mistake him for any other 
 human being. We had been longing for a glimpse of 
 the King, but like many another longing, its gratifica- 
 
402 VICTOR EMANUEL. 
 
 tion did not bring us happiness. Indeed, had his head 
 been endowed with the power, as well as the ugliness 
 of the Medusa's, and thus chaDged us into stone, we 
 might have felt more comfortable. As it was we could 
 not resist the consciousness that we were in imminent 
 dano;er of being crushed to death. 
 
 Women and children were crying all around us with 
 fright and pain ; it was -with difficulty I kept my feet ; 
 I never felt so near to the unwashed Neapolitans. Two 
 children, a boy with his hair sheared close to his dirty 
 scalp, and a girl whose matted locks had not been 
 combed for six months, had taken refuge in my arms. 
 They were tall enough to press their faces against my 
 breast, and they seemed so thankful for the protection 
 I could not find it in my heart to push them rudely away. 
 There were foolish mothers there with young babes 
 whose screams added to the general tumult. I felt that 
 I could not fight for my ground much longer ; I saw no 
 prospect for relief unless the King would drive on ; 
 but the supply of bouquets seemed inexhaustible and 
 he seemed determined to wait for the last one. Sud- 
 denly a new movement became perceptible in the 
 crowd; turning, I discovered they were making for 
 the large, open door of a cafe. Leaving my two 
 charges to take care of themselves, I joined in this 
 movement, but the hope of relief proved a new delu- 
 sion. A fierce man stood in the doorway and repelled 
 the crowd with blows and threats. Elegant cafes are 
 not the places where beggars are welcome. The women 
 and children cried anew, but that had no effect upon 
 
LETTER FORTY-FIVE. 403 
 
 the door-keeper. He did look frightful in his anger, 
 but I was more afraid of the thronging hundreds than 
 of this man's two clean fists. I didn't believe he 
 would strike me, so I pushed forward and entered the 
 doorway. He knew I hadn't the appearance of either 
 a beggar or a thief, so he let me enter ; and as soon as 
 he could close the door upon the rest, and politely gave 
 me a chair. I found Miss S. had met with the same 
 good fortune, but brother and Kate were still outside. 
 I saw them through the glass door and beckoned to theni. 
 The porter, who was now in a good humor, opened the 
 door for them, and we were at last all safe. I never 
 felt so thankful for a deliverance. In our gratitude 
 we ordered twice as much ice cream as we could eat, 
 that we might repay the keeper of the restaurant for 
 affording us a refuge. But we began now to feel a 
 less melancholy interest in the Carnival. The King 
 had finally passed on, and other carriages, wagons, 
 and cars were moving by deliberately. 
 
 My letter would be too long if I should attempt to 
 reproduce the shifting scene which occupied us till six 
 o'clock, and was still displaying new features when we 
 left the shelter of our cafL 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
404 THE CARNIVAL. 
 
 LETTER XLYI. 
 
 Rome, March 1, 1876. 
 Dear Brother Elijah : 
 
 EY letter to President became so long I had to 
 leave unfinished the subject of the Carnival. 
 From our safe retreat in the caje, we could look out 
 with pleasure upon the moving populace. All tears 
 were dried, and everybody seemed bent on having a 
 good time. In front of us was a carriage filled with a 
 party of handsome young men in the white caps, loose 
 white blouses, and long white aprons of cooks. They 
 were throwing bouquets at the young ladies in the 
 blacony over our heads. They thus amused, not only 
 themselves, but the crowd on the pavement below the 
 balcony ; for half their bright missiles failed to reach 
 their destination. Boys, girls, men, women, and 
 babies watched for the coming of each ill-aimed bunch 
 and as it lingered a moment in the air above, you should 
 have seen the display of dirty hands and dirty upturned 
 faces. If no one caught it and it fell to the ground, 
 there was a wonderful scramble in the dirt for its 
 possession. The crowd had a use for these stray bou- 
 quets. Already a few stove-pipe hats had the audac- 
 ity to make their appearance. Woe to their wearers I 
 Whether they were coachmen or gentlemen it was all 
 
LETTEE FOETY-SIX. 405 
 
 the same. One bouquet after another flew into the 
 direction of the unfortunate plug till it could hardly 
 maintain its equilibrium. If the owner of the plug 
 took the assault good-naturedly, he did not fare so 
 badly, but woe to the one who dared to grow impa- 
 tient ! It was very childish sport to entertain the 
 whole populace ; but the majority of Neapolitans are 
 little less than overgrown children. 
 
 The gentlemen cooks finally concluded to save the 
 rest of their ammunition for some other balcony, and 
 so drove on. Their place was quickly filled by another 
 great wagon load of young Scotchmen with a fresh sup- 
 ply of bouquets and candy-kisses to throw among the 
 crowd. The sound of music now became added to that 
 of laughter and shouting, and a little boy who was with 
 us at the window cried out : — 
 
 " Oh ma, there comes such a pretty car." 
 Sure enough , it was. The whole band were in masks, 
 and their car was adorned with various devices, among 
 others, a great gilt horse balanced upon his hind legs 
 as if startkd by the music. Many masks on foot were 
 also passing now; his satanic majesty, with his hideous 
 black face, appearing beneath his red horns; men with 
 donkey's heads, or heads of roosters ; there passed in a 
 carriage one whose head was an immense oyster or 
 mussel shell, the opening answering for a mouth. 
 But the grotesque costumes were too numerous for 
 description. One of the prettiest things was the 
 " Triumph of Bacchus." You know he is the god of 
 wine. Well, he was appropriately crowned with a 
 
406 " TRIUMPH OF BACCHUS. '* 
 
 wreath of grapes with leaves and all upon the vine. 
 His car was drawn by six horses. He rode one of the 
 middle pair while two satyrs guided the other two. 
 Satyrs are creatures with bodies of men and legs of 
 goats. They were always friends of Bacchus, so they 
 ought to take part in his triumphs. But the car itself 
 was the prettiest part. On the front of it was a 
 fountain, or rather the imitation of a fountain. What 
 seemed unbroken jets of water was really beads of 
 clear glass strung on wire. Back of this fountain 
 stood a great rose tree and among its branches was a 
 little child as beautiful as the cupids of the great paint- 
 ers. We were two hours or more watching this shift- 
 ing scene when the carriage of the King returned. It 
 was a beautiful sight for it was literally filled with 
 exquisite bouquets. He had been the whole length of 
 the Via Roma, and from every balcony a shower of 
 flowers had been rained upon him. He looked uglier 
 than ever by contrast. So much for the Carnival at 
 Naples, February 24th. 
 
 Ycisterday the people here were having their last 
 good time before Lent. You know Lent lasts forty 
 days, and during that time every Catholic must fast 
 often, pray much, and indulge in none of his wonted 
 amusements. The word Carnival means, " Flesh, 
 farewell," by which they mean, I suppose, not only 
 farewell to the eating of meat, but to all carnal indul- 
 gence. I suppose the only way they could endure to 
 be good so long is to have this mad carnival prepara- 
 tion. There was only throwing of bouquets in Naples 
 
LETTER FORTY-SIX. 407 
 
 on Thursday ; but, on the Sunday previous, their mis- 
 siles had been less romantic. To every balcony there 
 were fastened tin boxes large enough to hold a half 
 bushel of lime. They call it confetti^ which means 
 sugar-plums, but instead of sugar-plums, there are 
 only these little hard lumps of lime. The parties in 
 the balconies are furnished with long handled dippers, 
 and these they ply busily, shoveling the miserable 
 stuff on the heads of those below, or into the faces of 
 those in a neighboring balcony. This is very danger- 
 ous to the eyes, but it was a good thing for Naples. 
 It cleansed the filthy streets, and took off one or two 
 coats of dirt for each vagabond. I did not venture 
 out that day, but I had my information from an eye- 
 witness. 
 
 All the time I was writing to President yesterday, I 
 heard gay crowds passing the windows, and as often 
 as I looked out, there were numbers of masks to be 
 seen. Miss Shaw and Kate had hired places in a bal- 
 cony on the Corso, and I knew they were, seeing all the 
 fun. I didn't want to see it so much as to spend any 
 money for the purpose ; but, as the hour for the horse 
 race approached, I asked Brother to go down to the 
 Corso with me, that, if the crowd were not too dense, 
 we might see something from the pavement. We 
 found it quite different from Naples — not half such a 
 throng. We had a comfortable place in a door-way, 
 till the cannon fired a signal to clear the way for the 
 horses. At the moment of firing, the middle of the 
 street was filled with carriages ; but gradually, these 
 
408 THE COESO, 
 
 all withdrew into side streets, while a double line of 
 soldiers marched down and stationed themselves as a 
 wall between the people, and the cleared part of the 
 way. I had a place immediately behind one of these 
 fellows, and I was determined in case of danger, to 
 seize him by the back of his loose blue overcoat. Then 
 we stood waiting for the race. Several young men 
 near us whiled away the interval of waiting by playing 
 tricks upon each other. One of them had a bouquet, 
 and every few moments would give the other a stroke 
 on the back of his head, then would look so innocent 
 that his companion supposed himself attacked from 
 the balcony. In short, boys in Italy are as much 
 inclined to tease each other as are boys in America. 
 
 But the cannon was again fired, and this time it 
 meant, "The horses are coming.'* The Corso is 
 about a mile in length, and we were near the center, 
 so there were still two minutes of suspense, when the 
 poor frightened creatures rushed past us. They had 
 no riders, but there are spurs so arranged that at each 
 step they are goaded on to renewed efforts. Victor 
 Emanuel is fond of horses, and it is said he went to 
 Naples to avoid seeing his favorite animal thus cruelly 
 treated. I could not see their suffering, for they were 
 come and gone like a flash. They are stopped at the 
 other end of the street by strips of canvas stretched 
 across. I do not see why a populace should delight in 
 such an amusement, but there may be private betting 
 done to give it interest. There are also lotteries car- 
 
LETTER FORTY-SIX. 409 
 
 ried on during Carnival, and great stories circulated 
 about what this or that man gains. 
 
 It was nearly dusk when the race was over, dark 
 enough for the next sport to begin. All the after- 
 noon, boys had been passing through the crowds with 
 hands full of little tapers. ^^ Maccolil maccoU/** 
 they would shout, till stopped for a moment by a pur- 
 chaser. We had heard much of the maccoli^ and that 
 was the part we were anxious to see. Soon people in 
 the balconies began lighting these tapers. There was 
 story upon story of these balconies, and as those on 
 the topmost held out their long waxen maccoli, they 
 looked like so many stars in the blue sky ; for it was 
 only the burning end that was visible. But the fun 
 was all below. As soon as a taper was lighted, every 
 one within reach began trying to put it out. Hand- 
 kerchiefs were fastened to long sticks, and with these 
 the lights were whipped out. Some one else would 
 o:ffer his to relight the extinguished one, when down 
 would come a handkerchief and surprise both. Car- 
 riages began now to pass again, and their occupants 
 too were provided with lights. Sometimes in their 
 eagerness to save their lights, they would stand on 
 tip toe and hold them high above their heads, then 
 often an unexpected bouquet would be hurled at just 
 the right angle to extinguish the light without further 
 injury to the taper. All up street and down, this 
 lighting and extinguishing of maccoli was in progress, 
 and, at intervals chemical lights were added. ^ From 
 
410 THE MACCOLI. 
 
 these a rosy cloud, filled with glowing stars, ascended, 
 and made the whole scene like fairy-land. Among 
 the carriages, now and then, came more of those fancy 
 cars. One of these was filled with young ladies in the 
 costume of French soldiers of the time of Louis, — 
 their coats of blue, edged with white ermine, and 
 their three-cornered hats trimmed the same way. In 
 their car was a huge cannon, which seemed every few 
 rods to belch forth part of its contents. But what 
 drew the prize of five hundred francs was a great mul- 
 berry tree with men disguised as monkeys perched 
 upon its limbs. They frisked about and leaped from 
 bough to bough as if they were the real denizens of 
 the forest. Altogether, it was a wild scene of merri- 
 ment, and one I shall never forget. It lasted until 
 midnight, when King Carnival was burnt, and his spirit 
 sent aloft in a balloon to wait till called for next year. 
 It is said the Carnival is nothing now to what it once 
 was, and it is for want of such shows that the people 
 complain of the present government. They cry out 
 against the taxes, and yet are willing to have their 
 money wasted in such nonsense. 
 
 EUDORA, 
 
LETTER rOKTr-SEVEN. 411 
 
 LETTER XYLIL 
 
 Florence, March 4, 1876. 
 Dear Eugene : 
 
 OUE letter did hold out to reach Eome, and I 
 only regret you did not cover both sides of the 
 paper. I intend to write on every page of this sheet 
 to tell you of our farewell to Rome. Your warning 
 about climbing Vesuvius came too lute ; we had already 
 made the ascent in safety to the crater, and then rolled 
 down again in eighteen minutes. We went not only to 
 the volcano, but also to the famous ruins of Pompeii. 
 Indeed we went to the latter place first, and so far 
 from Vesuvius does it seem that it is difficult to believe 
 it owes its overthrow to an eruption. When, how- 
 ever, we made the ascent, and looked down upon the 
 immense black fields of lava, I began to realize the 
 nature of the power beneath the cone-shaped mass. 
 
 The guide at Pompeii explained to us the successive 
 stages in that eruption of eighteen hundred years ago. 
 First, came a hailstorm, as it were, of whitish pumice 
 stones mixed with harder, darker particles ; then, the 
 lava burst forth from the irregular sides of the crater, 
 and ran down the mountain till it was checked by 
 growing cool. This part did not reach Pompeii, but 
 it covered Herculaneum so closely that it is even 
 
412 POMPEH. 
 
 now entered like a cave. After the flood of lava came 
 a final shower of ashes, which brought utter destruc- 
 tion to Pompeii. But I refer you to Bulwer's " Last 
 Days of Pompeii" f©r a vivid description of the 
 scene. 
 
 One of the awfulest things in the museum at Pom- 
 peii is a collection of some half dozen bodies in the 
 position in which death overtook them, as they were 
 trying to escajDe. I say the bodies, but they are really 
 only casts in plaster. Miss Shaw told me how they 
 were obtained. Men, in removing the ashes, would 
 discover, now and then, a cavity the shape of the body 
 and containing, perhaps, a few bones. From this they 
 knew some human body must have perished there, and 
 they began to watch for these cavities, sounding the 
 earth to see if it were hollow. When one was dis- 
 covered a sufficient opening was made from above to 
 pour in plaster to fill the cavity, which was left to 
 to harden and then dug out. Thus the very expression 
 of the death agony is obtained. One of them is an 
 old man who alone has an appearance of calmness. 
 He lies on his breast with his head resting on his left 
 arm as if he were asleep. 
 
 We left Naples on Thursday night at eleven o'clock, 
 and, of course had to travel till day. It was but little 
 after six when we surprised Madam Lavigne by ring- 
 ing for her to let us in. ISebastiano soon had us a cup 
 of coffee, and we were ready for a day's work. We 
 had before us the task of showing to Yachel in eight 
 days what we had spent six weeks in seeing. It kept 
 
LETTER FORTY- SEVEN. 413 
 
 US going, but he pronounces us pretty good guides. I 
 have bought a great many pictures of the places we 
 have seen, and I anticipate much pleasure in showing 
 them to you children. By the way, as I was returning 
 from a picture store the other day, I was walking rap- 
 idly, and in a fit of abstraction I suddenly became con- 
 scious that I was very near a carriage wheel. I raised 
 my eyes, when a gentleman in the vehicle raised his 
 silk hat, as if in recognition. He was the ugliest man I 
 ever saw ; his red face was the shape of the full moon ; 
 his black moustache was so long and so fiercely curled, 
 that only the accompanying goatee could dare to rival 
 it; his neck was too stiff and his whole body too stout 
 for him to bow gracefully; his eyes — well, the car- 
 riage was too soon gone for me to examine every fea- 
 ture. Yes; this homeliest of Italians bowed to me, 
 and that, too, without an introduction. How did I re- 
 ward his presumption? Did I send a policeman after 
 him? Did I have Vachel challenge him for a duel? 
 No ; I returned the salute with a simple inclination of 
 of the head, and went home as briskly as possible to 
 relate the circumstance. You should have seen how 
 envious Kate and Miss Shaw were of my good luck, as 
 they call it. Can you guess who this ugly human was ? 
 No, never. Kings are always expected to be hand- 
 some ; kings are not expected to notice an obscure 
 passer-by. Yet, this was no other than the king of 
 United Italy who chose thus to honor myself, " a hand- 
 ful of American citizens," as Mark Twain says. After 
 all, kings are only men; indeed Victor Emanuel looks 
 
414 THE COLOSSEUM. 
 
 as common as U. S. Grant, and he is far less hand- 
 some. 
 
 Last night we left our pension at half past nine, took 
 a carriage and bade the coachman drive us to the Col- 
 osseum. The moon was shining beautifully, and we 
 grew excited at the thought of a farewell glance by 
 moonlight at dear, familiar Rome. (It's more dear 
 now that we have left it.) The sparkling and mur- 
 muring of water greeted us as we emerged into a large 
 piazza, and we knew we were at the Fountain of Trevi. 
 
 " Stop ! " we cried to the coachman, and a moment 
 after we were dipping our hands into the clear water 
 of the great marble basin, and drinking from our palms. 
 Yachel called to us that we must hurry, so, with a 
 laugh at our own folly, we threw in a soldo (one cent, 
 about), thus fulfilling the legend which says: — 
 
 " If you would be sure to return once more to Rome, 
 drink of the Fountain of Trevi, and throw in a coin." 
 On went our driver, past the Trajan Forum, the Ro- 
 man Forum, the Palace of the Caesars, the Basilica of 
 Constantine, under the arch of Titus, and stopped in 
 front of the sublime old Colosseum. The impressions 
 of that sight I leave for some future telling. All too 
 soon we had to tear ourselves away, be driven to the 
 station, and by the cars be borne towards other scenes. 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
L'ETTER rORTY-EIGHT. 415 
 
 LETTER XLYIII. 
 
 Venice, March 9, 1876. 
 Dear Flora: 
 
 'TjK^T'E are out on the ocean," and if some old 
 ^^^ washerwoman would hang out her clothes on 
 the house-top, as they do in Florence, we'd soon be sail- 
 ing, at least, that's the impression I receive by looking 
 out at the window. "We seem to be right in the water, 
 as much so as are the dozen ships riding at anchor be- 
 neath us. I think I shall dream, to-night, of going 
 home; I shall listen in my sleep for the watchman of the 
 Elysiato shout " All's well ! " I have read of Venice, till 
 I thought there would be little of novelty in our visit ; 
 but you needn't hesitate about reading^ what I shall tell 
 you, for no words can hinder one from experiencing a 
 new sensation, when he first enters Venice. I caught 
 my first glimpse from the car window of one of the 
 hundred islands which stands rather aloof from the 
 rest. There is a church on it with a high bell-tower, 
 so at first the whole thing was like a great Atlantic 
 steamer, the tower answering the place of smoke-stack. 
 We were on the bridge, in a few minutes — the great- 
 est bridge in the world. It is two and a third miles 
 long, twenty-eight feet wide, and has two hundred and 
 twenty-two arches. It is not high, for it extends from 
 
416 THE BRIDGE. , 
 
 the low beach of the mainland to that of the nearest 
 island. By this bridge the cars pass over the motion- 
 less waters of the lagoon, or bay, which separates 
 Venice from the continent. Driving thus into the sea 
 was rather novel, but we came to a halt in the darkest 
 and most unromantic of stations. We could see no 
 water anywhere, but had to walk the whole length of 
 the station-house and give up our tickets to the waiting 
 official in the most commonplace of styles. 
 
 *' Forward," said the man as he bestowed a satisjSed 
 glance upon the bits of card-board. We did " for- 
 ward " and then and there beheld a whole school of the 
 far-tamed gondolas. They are the long, black, slen- 
 der beaked affairs which Mark Twain describes, with a 
 tiny, hearse-like cabin in the center. And there were 
 the gondoliers after us just as bad as the Neapolitan 
 carriage drivers. 
 
 "Which hotel. Madam? which hotel?" th'ey per- 
 sisted in asking in their way. 
 
 I didn't choose to answer anybody till we were on 
 the steps descending into the water. A fellow caught 
 his gondola by the nose and led it up for us to get in, 
 then I said : 
 
 "Hotel Scharfnagel." 
 
 Now, this hotel I had selected simply on account 
 of the name of its proprietor. It is a German 
 name meaning Mr. Sharp-nail, and I was anx- 
 ious to see what kind of a looking man could have such 
 a name. Imagine my distress, then, when our gon- 
 dolier couldn't tell where that hotel might be ; he 
 
LETTEE FORTY-EIGHT. 417 
 
 inquired of a second and, he too, was unacquainted 
 with Mr. Scharfnagel. We showed him the name in 
 the book; he nodded as if an idea had struck him, 
 pushed his boat from the shore, and started; but all 
 was not yet well. We were crowded into the little 
 black cabin (our heads touched the top while we were 
 sitting, and our knees met in the center) when we re- 
 membered the caution of our guide-book that we should 
 protest against two rowers. V. stuck out his head, 
 thus making the discovery that there was a man at 
 each end of the small craft ready to lay hold of the 
 oars. 
 
 *« Basta uno,^'' (only one) shouted V. at my dictation. 
 The two men said something about its being 
 necessary to have two ; but we continued the chorus 
 of "Basta uno, Basta uno," till the extra hand with- 
 drew. Of course, this led to our going much more 
 slowly than "the two-manned" vessels but we had 
 the pleasure of seeing them pass us. First the steel- 
 protected prow would come into view ; then the oar as 
 it dashed the spray ; then the head, arms, and lithe 
 body of the first oarsman; next, the low buggy-top 
 cabin with the eyes of its occupants at the windows; 
 lastly the second rower, and we were left behind. An- 
 other and another thus appeared and disappeared, the 
 oarsmen usually, like our own, coatless and rather 
 dirty; but if it were the turnout of some fashionable 
 lady, they were dressed in sailor's blouse and pretty 
 broad-brimmed hat. To what point our gondolier was 
 taking us we didn't know, but, we were too much in- 
 27 
 
418 GRAND CANAL. 
 
 terested in the novelties of the way for uneasiness to 
 take much hold. We were first in the Grand Canal which 
 we could see from the map was about as straight as 
 the letter " S." We dodged along under its bridges, 
 wondering whence came the people who were crossing 
 them, for to us there were nothing but canals between 
 the houses. Suddenly our oarsman uttered a pecu- 
 liar cry, and darted round a corner into a very narrow 
 passage, and so skillfully did he manage the boat that 
 he came within half inch of another without touchino- 
 it. We began to feel a little queer; it was so gloomy 
 in that narrow place with the houses rising on either 
 side from the water high into the air, how high our 
 gondola cover did not permit us to see. I can not tell 
 how long this lasted, but the next transition found us 
 wholly unprepared. From the cramped atmosphere of 
 the tiny canal, we passed under a bridge into what ap- 
 peared to be the open sea. There was an island on our 
 right, and a whole line of houses on the left ; there 
 were ships anchored in the green water, and number- 
 less gondolas, like our own, plying here and there. 
 We felt more anxious than ever, but indulged the 
 hope that the gondolier didn't intend to drown us. 
 No; he didn't; he soon turned towards the shore, 
 gradually drew his bark towards the quay, finally 
 made it fast, and bade us step out on the stone 
 pavement. We were glad to find so firm a resting- 
 place for our feet, but saw no signs of a hotel. He 
 picked up our bundles, and carried them a hundred 
 
LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 419 
 
 yards or so to a door, in front of which he stopped. I 
 inquired; — 
 
 " Is this the Hotel Scharfnagel ? '* 
 
 The fellow muttered something about an interpreter, 
 and immediately summoned from above a jolly red- 
 faced German. 
 
 *' Are you Mr. Scharfnagel?" I inquired. 
 
 In answer, he burst into a laugh, and exclaimed, 
 
 " Herr Scharfnagel I why he has been in Cairo, 
 Egypt, for the last fourteen years. A very nice man 
 he was ; but he has a hotel in Cairo now — not Ven- 
 ice." 
 
 As we didn't feel inclined to go all the way to 
 Egypt in a gondola, we asked to see the rooms of this 
 hotel, to which our gondolier had been wise enough to 
 bring us. We prefer German hotels to Italian, 
 because they are cleaner; to English, because they are 
 cheaper. We found this one no exception in these 
 particulars, so we expressed our willingness to remain 
 at the Sandwirth with its jovial proprietor, Herr Perk- 
 hofer. Our window looks out upon the gulf, whose 
 broad expanse so disconcerted us, as we were first 
 carried into it by our boatman. We have thoroughly 
 recovered from our fright now, and have already made 
 plans for walking half over the city to-morrow. I 
 thought, as we were coming along this afternoon, that 
 in order to enjoy a stay among these numberless canals 
 I should have to be transformed into a fish; but 
 already I am falling in love with the beautiful green 
 
420 WORKS OF ART. 
 
 water, and feel impatient for to-morrow's coming. 
 There are wonderful churches and palaces here — I 
 fear curiosity will scarcely let me sleep to-night. 
 
 But I must tell you how we have reached this place. 
 We came to Florence on the night of the third, spent 
 the next four days in showing V. over the city, then 
 took the cars for Bologna. This town you will see on 
 your map, is nearly north of Florence. It has a pop- 
 ulation of one hundred and nine thousand, and a repu- 
 tation for sausage and lap-dogs. The latter are 
 scarce now; but, strange to say, there is yet no 
 sensible diminution in the quantity of sausage. We 
 were really pleased with the quiet cleanliness of the 
 place. The streets have broad foot pavements protec- 
 ted by arcades. We reached there at noon and drove 
 immediately to the Picture Gallery. We found in it 
 many mediocre works but there were two gems which 
 redeemed the whole. One was the subject so often 
 depicted in horrid colors by other artists; but, in the 
 hands of Guido Eeni, it is full of poetry. It is the 
 " Massacre of the Innocents," that is the slaughter of 
 the children of Bethlehem at the command of Herod. 
 The fierce soldiers appointed to do the deed are hin- 
 dered by no tender emotions ; two infants lie in the 
 foreground with the pallor of death on their innocent 
 faces, while the mother sits behind them with hands 
 elapsed and eyes raised to heaven in the muteness of 
 overwhelming grief; further back, upon the left, 
 another terrified woman is striving to escape with her 
 babe hidden in her breast, but a brutal soldier has 
 
LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 421 
 
 caught her by the long flowing hair, thus adding physi- 
 cal pain to mental agony ; on the right, a third is turn- 
 ing to flee, the sweet face of the babe in her arms full 
 of unconscious trust, but terror has paralyzed the 
 poor woman, till she can not move. 
 
 The other picture is by Raphael. It is St. Cecelia 
 listening to a chorus of angel voices above her in the 
 clouds. She has been playing herself; but in listen- 
 ing to the heavenly strains, she has let fall her hands, 
 in which is an instrument with many pipes. Her head 
 is thrown back, and her deep blue eyes raised to 
 heaven. There are two figures on each side of her; 
 left, St. Paul, his dark face and hair in strong contrast 
 with her golden locks; and St. John, almost as young 
 and beautiful as herself; right, St. Augustine in gor- 
 geous priestly vestments, and Mary Magdalene. St. 
 Cecelia has the only pair of blues eyes given by 
 Raphael to any of his characters, and these are so deep 
 Kate contends that they are brown. 
 
 From the Academy, we went to the hotel, passing 
 on our way, the two leaning towers of Bologna. They 
 do not compare in magnificence with the Leaning 
 Tower of Pisa, being built of dingy brick; but they 
 are very curious. One of them was built as it is inten- 
 tionally; but they had to leave it unfinished, because 
 it threatened to fall. 
 
 After securing a room, we went to the Campo Santo, 
 more than a mile west of town. It is arranged on the 
 same plan as that of Genoa, but it is much larger. 
 But my eyes begin to wink rather heavily, so I will 
 
422 VENICE. 
 
 close that I may get rested for to-morrow's work. I 
 shall probably not finish this for several days. 
 
 Pallanza, Lake Maggiore, Maech 19, 1876. — 
 You see I have traveled far since the beginning of this 
 letter. I didn't expect to finish it until now; but 
 thought you would like at least a few lines from Ven- 
 ice. It is lovely here this morning. The sun is shin- 
 ing on the lake, on whose placid bosom is no trace of 
 yesterday's furious storm. The green islands, which 
 it lashed so mercilessly twelve hours ago, the waves now 
 are caressing gently and murmuring to them in gentle 
 tones. The storm was grand; I shall never forget its 
 wild delight. I do not wonder that the ancients 
 thought the waters peopled by gods — it seemed yes- 
 terday, as if Neptune were angry to be here shut in by 
 great mountains. All his forces were gathered in the 
 effort to extend his dominions, and they beat the 
 stubborn mountain host into many a retreat. 
 
 But I was writing about Venice, and shall go on 
 with that subject. It has a population of one hundred 
 and twenty-eight thousand, so you may imagine how 
 we had to work to get over it in four days. It was so 
 quickly over, and all so strange, that it seems like an 
 enchanting dream. We were out early on the morn- 
 ing of the tenth, and made our way over the four 
 bridges along the broad quay to the Piazzetta. Around 
 this and the adjoining large square, are clustered some 
 of the most magnificent buildings I have ever seen ; 
 the Palace of the Doge, the Cathedral of San Marco, 
 the Clock Tower, the King's Palace, the Library, and 
 
LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 423 
 
 the Eoyal Mint — all add to the attractions of the spot. 
 We took first a general survey from between the two 
 granite columns which stand as sentries next the bay. 
 They themselves are curious old monoliths, as they 
 have stood there seven hundred years. On top of one 
 of them is the Lion of St. Mark, the emblem of Venice. 
 It has wings like the lion in Ezekiel, and you will find 
 the vision in which he represents God as appearing to 
 him sustained by an angel, a lion, an ox, and an eagle. 
 These are considered types of the four gospel writers ; 
 and, for that reason, the Old Masters always paint 
 Matthew with an angel hovering over his shoulder, 
 Mark with a lion at his feet, Luke with a gentle ox 
 beside him, and John with an eagle perched above 
 him. Well, the Venetians have always been partial to 
 Mark; he is one of their favorite saints; so you see 
 his lion everywhere. On the other column is an 
 attenuated old fellow standing upon a crocodile — this 
 is St. Theodore, another patron of the city. There 
 are three tall flagstaffs of cedar wood which stand in 
 front of the cathedral. Upon these the flag of Cyprus, 
 Candia and Morea, used to hang to indicate their sub- 
 jugation to the republic ; but since 1866, it all belongs 
 to Victor Emanuel and the flag of Italy on great occasions 
 flutters from each. From 697 till 17 — Venice was a 
 Eepublic governed by Doges — or rather it was an 
 aristocracy ,for the Doge was not chosen, like our 
 President, by the vote of the people, but by the vote of 
 ten nobles. It was then very powerful, having under 
 its dominion many of the adjoining cities of the main- 
 
424 ** BEIDGE OF SIGHS." 
 
 land as well as every neighboring island ; but, in 1797, 
 it became subject to Austria, and since that, has never 
 enjoyed but one brief season of independence. In the 
 great hall of the palace, there is a row of seventy-six 
 portraits of Doges around the ceiling, and among them 
 is one spot covered with a black tablet on which is 
 stated that this was the place for Marino Falieri ; but 
 he was beheaded for crime. We have since learned 
 his crime was the attempt to make Venice truly a 
 Republic, that is to put down the aristocracy. We 
 were afterwards led over the ' ' Bridge of Sighs ' ' from 
 the Doge's Palace to the prisons on the other side of 
 the canal, and down, down, into the very dungeon in 
 which Marino was confined. After lighting us into the 
 cell, the guide told us to remain while he took his 
 torch outside, that we might feel the thick darkness 
 amid which the noble prisoner pined away his 
 days. The entrance to this dungeon was so low that 
 we had to stoop almost double, and the walls were 
 three feet thick. It is a more terrible place than the 
 Prison of Chillon, for there the daylight is permitted 
 to struggle through the narrow windows, while this is 
 entirely under water, with no other opening than this 
 low doorway. 
 
 From this darkness we emerged again into the open 
 day of the piazza, to encounter there a busy scene. 
 There were no beggars, but Venice has its share of 
 public nuisances. Dozens of gentleman with " Guide " 
 embroidered in gold upon their caps, stand in com- 
 manding situations to spy out the approach of every 
 
LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 425 
 
 stranger ; then they descend in force upon him with 
 volleys of: — • 
 
 " Do you wish a guide? " " Voulez-voiis im guide? " 
 '* Wilnchun 8ie einen Fuhrev'i'''' etc. 
 
 There are others who offer for sale " cheap views " 
 of the city done up in little red-backed books ; others 
 who insist that you buy their shell necklaces, using their 
 sole English phrase, " They are very strong, Madam," 
 then dropping them on the pavement as proof. They 
 do get up an amusing hash of languages — these guides 
 and peddlers. As we were entering the low door of 
 the prison cell, our old guide cried out, — 
 
 " Mind your ^e^e," using the French word for 
 "head." In fact, they mix things up so, that the 
 English is often the very part we fail to understand. 
 I suppose our Italian is quite as amusing to them; but 
 we are often obliged so speak the few words we have 
 picked up. Necessity seems to manufacture words, 
 and then Italian is the easiest of languages to catch by 
 • ear. 
 
 We staid till noon or past in the palace, then took 
 a gondola for a trip across to the island of S. Giorgio 
 Maggiore. It took only ten minutes to glide across 
 the smooth water and enter the church. The priest 
 who opened the door for us began to explain the pict- 
 ures on the walls and over the chapel altars; but we 
 begged to be excused as we proposed ascending the 
 tower. The campaniles (bell towers) of Venice are 
 different from those we have seen anywhere else : in 
 Pisa, the leaning tower is round and ornamented with 
 
426 THE BELL TOWERS. 
 
 successive circles of pillars; in Florence the great 
 tower built by Giotto is square and covered on the 
 outside with beautiful patch-work in marble mosaic ; 
 in Naples I remember another curious square structure 
 which grows somewhat smaller towards the top ; but 
 in Venice they are all or nearly all of red brick, square 
 till within ten feet of the top when they are finished 
 with a pyramid. Well, it was up one of these we 
 proposed to climb, and wished to waste no time on the 
 commonplace pictures below. There were no steps, 
 but simply an inclined plane following the sides of the 
 tower within. It was quite dark at first, but we 
 emerged into the light upon a platform which marked 
 the conclusion of the square part and beginning of the 
 pyramid. Then we had all Venice at our feet ; canals, 
 palaces, domes, gondolas and all. Far beyond, too, 
 on the opposite side appeared the white tops of the 
 Tyrolese Alps, and on the other the distant blue of the 
 Adriatic. We were quite ready for our good German 
 dinner when it came that night — no, not quite ready 
 either ; for we were just watching a most glorious 
 golden and purple sunset, and were loth to lose a sin- 
 gle tint. There was an enthusiastic young German on 
 the balcony, too, who was even more inspired than 
 we. He pronounced it " hhnmel schon " (beautiful 
 as heaven) and such other extravagant expressions. 
 He finally came to his dinner, but then his enthusiasm 
 took a new turn. The landlady came in and he began 
 telling her of his travels. It was evidently the first 
 time he was ever away from home and he thought he 
 
LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 427 
 
 had come very far. He had come part the way on a 
 steamer and had a wonderful experience. He rose to 
 his feet to explain by gestures the motion of the boat 
 as she rode the mighty waves, but he said : — 
 
 "I stood with folded hands right in the prow, and 
 heeded not though the spray kept dashing every mo- 
 ment in my face." 
 
 He became quite oratorical and with reluctance let 
 his sole auditress, the landlady depart. He couldn't 
 stand that long; he got hold of a book, and by way 
 of opening a conversation with us, brought it over to 
 show us a picture. 
 
 "Are you from Germany? " he inquired. 
 *' No, indeed, far from it. We are from America," 
 I replied. 
 
 "From America!" and he raised his hands in 
 astonishment. He withdrew quietly to his own side of 
 the room with the air of one who had unexpectedly 
 met more than his match. 
 
 "Have you been to America?" I asked; not for 
 information, but for the fun of hearing his humble 
 reply. 
 
 "No, I have never been so far." 
 This was the last word he spoke till dinner was 
 ended, and he was about to leave the room, when he 
 raised his hat, made a profound bow, and said to us, — 
 " Ich hahe de Ehre^ 
 
 This was the last we saw of him, but we shall 
 often recall him as a good type of a German on 
 his first tour. He is not twenty miles from his 
 
428 ISOLA BELLA. 
 
 native land, till he imagines himself a traveled 
 individual, and is surprised to find any one who has 
 come from a greater distance. I can not now enter 
 into details in regard to the ensuing three days in Yen- 
 ice, nor yet the two in Milan. 
 
 We went this afternoon in a little boat over to Isola 
 Bella (beautiful isle), the most distant of the Borro- 
 mean group, which lie in front of our window. The 
 wind had risen again, but we felt no fear though we 
 were now on the crest of one wave, then down in the 
 valley between it and the next. On our return, one 
 of the rowers had his hat blown off ; but he gave the 
 naughty wave a stroke with the oar which brought the 
 truant back. The island has upon it a castle, a hotel, 
 and a church, while the rest of the space is occupied 
 by a garden of the most wonderful trees and plants. 
 The gardener showed us around, plucking for us 
 camelias, hyacinths, polyanthus, stock, and many other 
 things of which I have foro-otten the name. There 
 were terraces of orange, lemon, and shaddock trees 
 covered with the ripening fruit ; but the greatest curi- 
 osity was an immense cork tree. The bark is the 
 part out of which stopples are made ; the leaf is like 
 that of the evergreen oak, I inclose you a curious 
 leaf, which has a flower blooming in the center of it. 
 But I'm at the bottom of the last page. Good night, 
 
 EUDOKA. 
 
LETTER FORTY-NINE. 429 
 
 LETTER XLIX. 
 
 Paris, March 26, 1876. 
 Dear Brother South: 
 
 jIJqTARD as it is to believe it, as I sit here in my old 
 oa^ brown dress, we are really in the heart of fash- 
 ion-loving and fashion-ruling Paris. We came late 
 yesterday afternoon, and are only waiting for Monday 
 morning before we "make a break " upon some 
 shop where ready-made clothing is to be had. At the 
 *' Bon Marche,''^ one has only to indicate the style of 
 dress desired, when a lay -figure is hauled out, and made 
 to wear one dress after another till " just the thing" is 
 found. "While I was in Kome among the antiquities, 
 I didn't care if my dress was old ; but the very at- 
 mosphere of Paris fills me with a longing to improve 
 my appearance. The consciousness of looking my 
 best once more will be pleasing from its very novelty. 
 It is, however, rather more agreeable not to look too 
 well when going in public ; for, noted as Parisians are 
 for politeness, well dressed gentlemen seem to con- 
 sider it no breach of etiquette to stare deliberately at 
 a lady for an hour at a time. Yesterday evening, in a 
 restaurant, there was a man sitting across the room 
 from me, right where I must see him every time I 
 raised my eyes from my plate. He was eating at first; 
 
430 KAVENNA. 
 
 but, that finished, he folded his arms comfortably on 
 the table, and, in this attitude, gave himself up to the 
 sole occupation of staring me out of countenance. I 
 changed my position, so that Brother might be between 
 me and him ; but he changed too. Now, it is not for 
 the sake of attracting more of such attention as this 
 that I desire a new and becoming outfit ; but I am 
 beginning to feel that I am almost home, and that 
 somebody there is interested in my personal appear- 
 ance. But I'mwasting paper on such nonsense. Let's 
 talk about something better. 
 
 I wrote you last from Venice. It has been two 
 weeks since then, two weeks full of most interestino; 
 events. We left Venice on Monday — no Tuesday 
 morning, and reached Milan that night, where we were 
 joined by Miss Shaw. We left her in Kome you re- 
 member. From there she came on to Florence, then 
 to Bologna, and from B. made an excursion to Ea- 
 venna. Her account of this old place was very amusing. 
 It is a little place (19,000 inhabitants) but one of the 
 oldest towns in Italy. Dante died and was buried 
 there in exile from his native Florence ; Lord Byron, 
 your favorite, spent some time there during his sojourn 
 on the continent; and Miss S. thinks that from that 
 time to the day of her arrival no stranger has ever 
 graced the streets of Ravenna. At the station she was 
 surrounded by beggars, guides, and hotel drummers, 
 who kept right at her heels till she entered a cafe to 
 escape them. 
 
 Strengthened by a cup of coffee, she started out 
 again to find the guides and beggars gone, but instead 
 
LETTER FORTY-NINE. 431 
 
 a whole troop of boys became her voluntary and in- 
 separable escort. Men and women on the street 
 stopped to gaze after her ; those that were below 
 shouted to their friends up stairs to look out at the 
 windows at what was passing. Miss S. is very sen- 
 sitive, and the thought of being alone among the rude 
 people filled her with dismay. She contemplated a 
 speedy retreat to the station, but her motto has always 
 been: " In spite of everything." With face burning 
 worse than it did on Vesuvius, she persisted in her ob- 
 ject. She lingered long in each church to avoid, as 
 long as possible, the noisy rabble without. At last all 
 was seen and she was accompanied to the depot. Alas ! 
 it was not yet time for the train, and she must wait. 
 The boys didn't leave her for a moment ; but, what 
 was worse, a dozen men sauntered in to swell their ranks. 
 They leaned themselves against the wall and with their 
 hands in their pockets and their mouths wide open, 
 stared, yes, simply stared in her face. There was no 
 way to escape their eyes ; she could not pretend to be 
 unconscious of it, for there was nothing to look at. 
 A happy thought struck her, she raised her parasol and 
 thus hid from them her burning face. Strange to say 
 the men understood this hint, one at a time they 
 sneaked out with a most sheepish air ; but the boys 
 were faithful to the last. After Miss S. related this 
 experience we did not wonder so much at her hearty 
 greeting: — 
 
 *' I am so glad to see you; you have spoilt me till 
 I don't enjoy traveling alone any more." 
 
 Well we went together to the Cathedral, the Picture 
 
432 AN EXCURSION. 
 
 Gallery, the Library, etc., of Milan ; and then Friday, 
 morning, started on an excursion to the Lakes. We 
 went by cars to Como, then went up to Mennaggio by 
 boat, from M. took stage for Porlezza, a town at the 
 eastern extremity of Lake Lugano. For twenty 
 miles again, then, we were on the waters, passing the 
 town of Lugano, and stopping at Ponte Tresa about 
 half past three. Another stage ride of two hours fin- 
 ished our journeying for the day, and brought us to a 
 resting-place on Lake Maggiore. At eight in the 
 morning, we were again on board a vessel, bound for 
 Lucarno, the north point of the lake. It is from this 
 town a railroad leads to the St. Gotthard Pass. We 
 were very anxious to go over this pass, across to Lu- 
 cerne, by Zurich to Mainz, thence on the Ehiue to 
 Cologne, Brussels, Paris. We had already peopled 
 the whole way with castles, and doubled the actual 
 number on the song-famed Khine; but how they all 
 came tumbling down as we reached Lucarno I All the 
 way up the lake, we had persisted in sitting on top, 
 and protected by the engine-house, managed to keep 
 from freezing; but, as the boat stopped, and we came 
 out on the wharf, we found a cutting wind no additiou 
 to our enjoyment. We could see up into, the St. Gott- 
 hard, and could not deny that a fearful snow-storm was 
 raging there. If we had spent the winter in Minne- 
 sota, we might have laughed at such obstacles ; but the 
 balmy air of southern Italy does not fit one for such 
 encounters. It was an hour before the boat would 
 start back, and in that time we must decide upon 
 
LETTEE FOETT-NINE. 433 
 
 our course. We did decide, and, no doubt, most 
 wisely. We walked through the little town, and 
 climbed a hill from which we could more fully appre- 
 ciate the terrors of St. Gotthard — came down again 
 and submissively seated ourselves once more behind 
 the engine-house. We hadn't time to deplore our 
 dilapidated castles, for the storm descended from the 
 Alps upon the lake. The waves seemed to take pos- 
 session of our vessel, and to desire to rid it of occu- 
 pants. It seemed their fixed purpose to dislodge us 
 from our shelter ; but the more they raged, the 
 more we were determined to watch their wild sport. 
 Ever and anon, an ambitious wave would reach the 
 deck and dampen us with its spray ; but for more than 
 an hour we resisted these attacks. Finally we grew 
 chilly and yielded to the dictates of prudence. We 
 found the cabin very dark and close, every window 
 being covered with an iron shutter from without, ex- 
 cept two right in the bow. In front of these we took 
 our station and were more tossed than ever on the 
 Atlantic. The air became sickening and again we 
 sought the deck. Oh ! it was grand, shut in on each 
 hand by mountains with foaming waters below us I 
 Oh ! what tricks the winds played catching up the foam 
 as if to bear it to the clouds. Sometimes, too, the sun 
 would break through and convert all the flying mist 
 into rainbows. Lake Maggiore seems to be just large 
 enough to be discontented ; it wants to be an ocean. 
 Now we were on Lugano during rain, but not once was 
 its calm surface ruffled ; indeed, the moment the sun 
 
 28 
 
434 ON THE LAKES. ■ 
 
 came out it was, as ever, a perfect mirror of each mount 
 and tree. I should like to be a Lugano,, peaceful within, 
 whatever storms may rage without. There are many 
 Lake Maggiores in the world, many tortured by the desire 
 to be other than God intended. But I am digressing. 
 The fury of the discontented waters did not subside 
 till we reached Pallanza, and debarked for the night. 
 Indeed, we remained in that lovely spot all day Sun- 
 day, and rejoiced that we were not among the Alps 
 instead. We were, however, still in sight of the white 
 peaks of three noted passes: the Simplon, the St. 
 Bernard, and the St. Gotthard. Just across the bay 
 from us was a mountain called '' /Sasso di Ferro^* 
 (Rock of Iron), and with the light of sunset upon it 
 we understood the significance of the name ; it was 
 like a great mass of the metal heated till all aglow. 
 This glowing hue gradually gave way to a dark purple 
 which crept up from the uneven base. I have seen 
 four other European sunsets which I shall never forget ; 
 on the North Sea, at Fiesole, on New Year's Day, at 
 Venice, and finally at Turin. Of this last I must give 
 you the particulars. 
 
 We left Pallanza on Monday morning, and were two 
 hours on as calm a lake as one could desire. It seemed 
 Mago-iore had lashed herself into a more contented 
 spirit. The banks were still very pretty, but toward 
 Arona the scenery is much tamer than that north of the 
 Borromean Islands. When we stepped ashore, it was 
 with the feeling that March is the time to see the 
 Italian lakes in all their grandeur. 
 
LETTEE FORTY-NINE. 435 
 
 It was nearly night when we arrived in Turin , so we 
 simply made out, before retiring, a plan for next day. 
 Of the details of the morning programme, I shall give 
 jou no account; but we found Turin, contrary to the 
 the European custom, laid out in regular squares, its 
 streets crossing each other at right angles. It is even 
 more modern in appearance than Milan. 
 
 At three o'clock in the afternoon, we took an omni- 
 bus for the " Madonna del Pilone," a church about a 
 mile below Turin. A half hour sufficed to pass over 
 the broad, dusty highway, when we were put down in 
 the only street of a little village. 
 
 '< Which is the road to Superga?" I asked of the 
 coachman. 
 
 "Are you going there on foot? " he inquired. 
 
 I told him such was our intention, to which he replied 
 with an ominous shake of the head, and an assurance 
 that it was very far. We paid no attention to this, nor 
 to his offer of mules for the journey ; but set out in 
 the direction indicated. Soon the road came to a turn, 
 and, at a venture, we took the one to the right ; but, 
 after going a little way, we asked a little girl if we were 
 on the road to Superga. 
 
 " No ; you must go back," was her reply. 
 
 Well, we went back, and continued straight on 
 till the next turn, when we again took the right 
 hand, only to be told, after fifteen minutes, that we 
 should have still kept straight ahead. After this we 
 kept straight on till we found some men at work on 
 the road. 
 
436 THE SUPERGA. 
 
 " You must go back to the first turn," was their in- 
 struction. 
 
 This was the third time we had gotten lost, and it 
 was now five o'clock, and we had ordered dinner at the 
 hotel at six. Vachel thought it a very foolish thing 
 to climb the hill anyway, but Kate and I were very 
 anxious. "We could see on the tip top the white church 
 in which are the tombs of the Sardinian kings. We 
 could see the pillars to the portico, and my heart was 
 set on witnessing the scene from that high point. But 
 then I was hungry, too, and didn't like to miss my 
 dinner. 
 
 " It will take us fifteen minutes to get to the top," 
 said v., " and then we can not get back in time for 
 the last omnibus and must walk all the way to Turin." 
 
 We continued to discuss the matter, and, at the same 
 time, were beginning the ascent. The road is broad 
 and free from obstacles, for it was constructed by the 
 kings for the passage for their funeral cortege. 
 
 " I know we will have to pay extra for our dinner, 
 if we are too late," said V., as we made the first 
 turn. 
 
 " We'll get nothing to eat, to-night, and still have 
 to pay for the dinner," was his suggestion at the next 
 corner. 
 
 The fact was we were beginning to see the nature of 
 the road. It is so laid out that you scarcely know you 
 are climbing at all, but this of course draws it out to 
 much greater length. The Superga is the highest peak 
 of a whole cluster of hills, but the road winds first 
 
LETTER FORTY-NINE. 437 
 
 around one then another of its neighbors. "We were 
 on the point of turning back, when a man on a donkey 
 came riding down the hill. 
 
 << Why, where are you going? " was his query, and 
 we recognized the speaker as the clerk of our hotel. 
 
 He told us we couldn't walk so far, but we didn't care 
 for this advice. We saw now a way out of the difficulty 
 about the dinner. We told him we could not be there 
 till seven, and he agreed to keep our victuals for us. We 
 resumed again our walk with more hope of reaching our 
 destination. I looked upon the white portico as now 
 a certainty. Our fifteen minutes went by and still the 
 church seemed as far away as ever. Kate began 
 to want to rest every once in a while, but I kept right 
 on leaving her in Y.'s care. At last the road made a 
 direct turn, and as I followed it I lost sight of the 
 church altogether. I looked below and saw V. and 
 Kate resting cozily under a tree. I knew they 
 only wanted me to propose going back, but I thought 
 I must get one more glimpse of the longed-for terrace. 
 Again I saw it, but it was still no nearer ; or, rather, 
 it didn't seem far at first, and it kept always the same 
 distance. The shadows were beginning to envelop the 
 lower part of the road, and the sense of loneliness 
 seized me. "Kate can never get to the top," I 
 reflected, " some one may take my darling watch ; the 
 church will be closed and T have no money to pay for 
 having it opened," yet I could not stop, my feet went 
 on and I felt if I should give up this undertaking, it 
 would be the foundation of a vascillating character; 
 
438 VIEW FROM THE TOP. 
 
 besides, at every turn, I thought it was the last; but 
 every time a new one came into view. On and on I 
 went — it was useless to look back, V. and Kate were 
 nowhere in sight. After all, nobody would hurt 
 me, and I must not give it up. The clock on the stee- 
 ple struck six; the shadows from the valley were chas- 
 ing me up the mountain side ; but yonder was that 
 white walled church beckoning me on and on. I 
 paused for nothing now. I heard men's voices in a 
 shop by the roadside, but did not turn my head. I 
 hoped they would think me crazy, and, therefore, not 
 molest me. I had now reached the first " station of the 
 Cross," and I knew the twelfth must bring me to the 
 church door. Yes ; it did — my feet were, at last, on 
 the coveted spot ! And was it too late ? Too late ! 
 No. Oh ! that you could have seen it ! Before me 
 was a whole circle of the Alps. In the center, the sun 
 was just sinking behind Mt. Cenis; to the left, the 
 sharp peak of Monte Viso caught the same rich tint ; 
 to the right, most splendid of all, were the six peaks 
 of Monte Rosa, all suffused with that delicate light 
 which has given name to this queen of mountains. In 
 the sky above, were clouds of richest purple and 
 gold; a silver radiance covered the mountain sides, 
 and all the city in the plain. The Po, and its tributary, 
 the Dora Riparia, were glittering throughout their 
 winding course. On the left, between me and the 
 mountains, were the brown hills round which the 
 road leads to Superga. They too felt the glow of 
 sunset, and the white houses on their crests were like 
 
LETTER FORTY-NINE. 439 
 
 the foam caps to Maggiore's storm waves. But the 
 meagerness of my language forbids further attempt at 
 describing this scene. 
 
 I did not wait for the glory to fade from the sky 
 and mountains, but turned to hurry down. I began 
 to dread V.'s scolding, for I knew he would pronounce 
 my undertaking a foolish one. I had just passed the 
 men in the shop and was trembling a little at their 
 laughter (I knew, they were making remarks about the 
 unwonted apparition of a lady alone at Superga) when 
 I caught sight of V. quite near. He did not see me, 
 and before I could speak, he shouted "Sis" at the 
 top of his voice. I answered, and without another 
 word he wheeled around, and hastened down the hill, 
 while I humbly followed. I knew he was angry, and 
 as I am very averse to harsh words, I gave him no 
 chance to utter his reproof. We almost flew down, 
 for I comprehended that Kate was down there some- 
 where, and might feel timid in the gathering dark- 
 ness. We found her smiling and content ; she had not 
 been able to come more than half the distance, but had 
 seated herself to watch the sunset from that point. 
 Y. became somewhat appeased when he saw no harm 
 had befallen her, and I ventured to proclaim the suc- 
 cess of my enterprise. There was no denying the fact, 
 however, that we were very far from home, and might 
 have to walk the whole distance. It was eight o'clock 
 when we once more entered the little village, and looked 
 around for the omnibus. Our fears proved well 
 grounded — no omnibus was to be seen. We deter- 
 
440 BACK AGAIN. 
 
 mined to make one more effort. We opened the door 
 of a very dirty inn and asked if there were any possi- 
 ble conveyance for Turin. How glad we were to hear 
 the answer that a carriage could easily be had, and 
 how we enjoyed the ride to the hotel, and the good 
 dinner awaiting us. Y. and I made friends over our 
 soup, but he still considers me rather incapable of 
 judging what objects are worthy of my most strenuous 
 efforts. He didn't see the sunset. 
 
 I can not tell you yet the date of our embarking for 
 New York. We have been busy to-day in finding 
 apartments in which to remain during our month in 
 Paris. Perhaps, to-morrow Vachel will get our return 
 tickets. EuDOEA. 
 
 LETTER L. 
 
 Paris, April 1, 1876. 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 JHAT you may not be entirely without April 
 fools, I will contribute one to your letter-box. 
 I know I shall succeed in fooling you ; for, at the sight 
 of the foreign post-mark, you will groan inwardly at 
 the thought of twelve more pages of catacombs, 
 guides, beggars, madonnas, pick-pockets, broken col- 
 umns, and volcanoes ; but I intend to write upon no 
 
LETTER FIFTY. 441 
 
 such themes. As for the last, Vesuvius treated us 
 
 shabbily by delaying the eruption a whole month from 
 
 the day of our ascent; as for the ruins, we have left 
 
 them in southern Italy. There will be upon these pages I 
 
 no must of antiquity ; we are in Paris, and Paris is not 
 
 in sympathy with the antique, not even with old 
 
 dresses. We should have been attached to the suits 
 
 which have clung to us all winter, but we were not 
 
 here an hour till we were anxious to discard them, and 
 
 to-day we are rejoicing in beautiful new costumes from > 
 
 the '* Bon Marche.'' Indeed, we have scarcely made j 
 
 an acquaintance beyond this famous shop, and its I 
 
 rival, the " Magasin du Louvre; " but already are we 
 
 charmed with the bustling city. 
 
 Brother comes home at night with his head full of 
 the new things learned during the day in the hospitals, 
 and his heart glad with the thought that here many a 
 coveted instrument may be had at small expense ; we 
 respond with chatter about our jewel of a dressmaker, 
 who talks English like an American and knows how to 
 give just the right set to every bow and ruffle. In 
 Italy we were all absorbed in art ; in Paris nature again 
 asserts her sway. Like the rest of our sex, we find a 
 becoming toilet an agreeable thing, when we have 
 time to think about it. But in our new devotion to 
 Paris we must not forget that we have, thus far, left 
 Venice unnoticed. We must have gone there just the 
 right season, for we found it surprisingly free from its 
 ordinary nuisances; no dirt, no offensive odors, no 
 musquitoes. We really felt quite at home among the jij 
 
442 AN AGREEABLE SUEPEISE. 
 
 gondolas and fishes after the first few days. The 
 Island City was very hospitable to us. The next day 
 after our arrival we were coming home to dinner, or 
 rather we had reached the door of our hotel and turned 
 around for one more glance over the bay, when we 
 observed approaching us a little woman with three 
 white curls on each side of her face. I was wondering; 
 if this were a Venetian lady, when she stopped, held 
 out her hand to brother with a smile, saying : — 
 
 "This is Dr. L., I believe." 
 
 For a moment brother's face was a blank of non- 
 recognition ; then he took the proffered hand and intro- 
 duced to us " Mrs. Harris." The name furnished a 
 solution of the puzzle. Brother had been telling us, 
 on our way home, of his visit to the Consul an hour 
 before. He went, as is our wont, to inquire for let- 
 ters, but he was received with no official stiifness. 
 The old gentleman greeted him as a welcome visitor, 
 and seemed much surprised that any one should hunt 
 him up. He detained brother for a little interchange 
 of political gossip, and insisted that he should return 
 and bring us with him. 
 
 " If you do not call on us, I am sure my wife will 
 call on you," were his last words. 
 
 We had laughed heartily over this exaggerated case 
 of formal politeness with no idea of its being at all 
 sincere; but here was Mrs. Harris already, and there 
 could be no more substantial proof of sincerity than 
 she presently gave. 
 
LETTER FIFTY. 443 
 
 " No, no, I haven't time to come in; I only want 
 to invite you to tea on Monday evening, to meet two 
 ladies who seldom have an opportunity to see Ameri- 
 cans," was her answer as we invited her in. 
 
 " Come about seven, it will be a regular American 
 tea at the table," she further explained. 
 
 Now, we were hungry for an " American tea," and 
 she was evidently starving for want of American 
 society, so we accepted the invitation. Promptly at 
 seven we pulled the bell at a door over which the 
 American eagle was hovering, and as promptly the 
 door opened to admit us. The aged Consul (he is 
 eighty-three), his white-haired but active little wife, 
 and a young lady of some nineteen years, formed an 
 interesting trio. The latter, especially, was all anima- 
 tion, for she said it was a rare treat to her to see her 
 fellow-countrymen . 
 
 " There are just two American families in Venice 
 besides ours, and one young gentleman who is an art- 
 ist. The Italians are not sociable with foreigners, so 
 you may imagine it is rather dull for a young girl. 
 Our only amusement is an invitation to tea once in a 
 great while, and a ball once a year." 
 
 I began now to see why Mrs. H. had pursued Brother 
 so rapidly. In Dresden, in Florence, in Rome, and in 
 Naples, our people are so plenty that I do not think 
 consuls are extremely delighted at a new arrival ; but 
 Mr. H. and wife are glad of any break in the monot- 
 ony of their existence. My conversation, however, 
 
444 VENETIAN CUSTOM. 
 
 was chiefly with Miss A. She has been abroad four 
 years and knows little of society in her native land, 
 except what her mother has told her. She came first 
 to Paris and spent some months in a French boarding- 
 school, but her declaration of republican principles 
 made her very unpopular. 
 
 " I got black-marks every day for saying things I 
 ought not ; they wanted me to sit always in one posi- 
 tion and hold my hands just so; they would not let 
 me toss my head without scolding me ; besides, they 
 taught me almost nothing, so I left as soon as I could 
 get away. I nearly finished the course, though; all 
 that's necessary to get a certificate as French public 
 school teacher is a little knowledge of poetry, of arith- 
 metic, of geography and history, all taught in prim- 
 ers," said she. 
 
 But I can't repeat all she said, for she wasted not a 
 minute of three hours we were there. In spite of the 
 many foolish restrictions imposed by Venetian custom 
 upon the life of a young lady she loves the city. She 
 would like to go to America to see " all the clever 
 people there," and then come back. 
 
 " I am not rich enough to live in the United States 
 without work; here I can, and for that reason I shall 
 always make my home in Europe," was her sage com- 
 ment. 
 
 While we were thus busily chatting on one side of 
 the room, Brother was discussing with Dr. Harris the 
 Belknap scandal, and occasionally recurring to inci- 
 dents of the late war. Kate and the artist, who joined 
 
LETTER FIFTY. 445 
 
 US after tea, were vying with each other in the praises 
 of Salvator Eosa and Claude Loraine. The artist has 
 dodged about from one spot of earth to another till he 
 scarcely knows what home is; but his special com- 
 plaint against Americans who come to Venice is that 
 they are always " going away to-morrow." Well, we 
 too were " going away to-morrow," and were only 
 waiting for a pause in the conversation to suggest the 
 propriety of our taking leave. No pause came. 
 People who have rarely the pleasure of society are not 
 easily sated. We had to place a period at the begin- 
 ning of some new topic, and then were accompanied 
 by the young lady and the artist to the door of our 
 hotel. 
 
 After thus finding friends, we were rather unwilling 
 to leave Venice next day, but what need was there to 
 remain longer? We had seen the Cathedral of St. 
 Mark in all its splendor of Byzantine mosaics and pil- 
 lared architecture ; we had been from dungeon to attic 
 in the Palace of the Doges, and over the Bridge of 
 Sighs ; we had looked down from the Campanile of St. 
 Giorgio Maggiore upon the whole network of islands ; 
 we had spent a whole day among the masters of the 
 Venetian school; we had explored the city on foot 
 from north to south, from east to west ; we had ven- 
 tured out with one gondolier to Murano and there seen 
 the famous glass-works ; what more could we do ? 
 Nothing. We must simply rise early next morning 
 and go by the way of the grand canal to the railway 
 station. There could be no more fitting terminus to a 
 
446 FAREWELL TO VENICE. 
 
 stay in Venice ; nothing else could so leave one with 
 the impression that the whole water founded city is a 
 fabric of dreams. Once beyond the first bridge, where 
 the tollman had cheated us out of half a cent the day 
 before, there was nothing to mar our enjoyment of the 
 panorama of palaces on either hand. If you would 
 know just what beauty was revealed at every turn in 
 that S shaped canal, you must rise before the sun, the 
 day of your farewell to Venice, engage your harca by 
 the hour to insure slow going, and putting aside every 
 harassing thought, float dreamily with the tide. 
 
 EUDORA. 
 
 LETTER LI. 
 
 Paris, France, April 30, 1876. 
 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 5E AM quite well aware that we are treating Paris 
 
 1 
 
 unjustly. It has been a whole month since my last 
 short letter, and, in the meantime, Kate has been able 
 to give you only a few reminiscences of Milan. The 
 truth is, she has been very ill since then, and that 
 accounts for my want of punctuality. She is now 
 convalescing, and promises to be strong enough to go 
 with us to London next Monday. Since the first of 
 April, I have learned that there is much in Paris 
 
LETTEE FIFTY-ONE. 447 
 
 besides dressmakers and shop-windows. Indeed, I 
 think I would make a better guide than Baedeker, at 
 present, for since his last edition there have been some 
 chano;es. For instance, in Venice he had us driftinof 
 around for an hour in search of the Scharfnagel Hotel. 
 At the end of that time we learned that Herr Scharf- 
 nagel had for the last fourteen years been proprietor 
 of a first-class gast-haus in Cairo, Egyj3t. Thus our 
 confidence in Mr. Baedeker became a little shaken. 
 
 Again, Galignani for Paris is not much better, for 
 he had us chasing around all the southern boule- 
 vards in search of the entrance to the Catacombs. 
 Should you, then, call at the Hotel Jacob to employ 
 me as guide, I should take you at once by way of the 
 Eue Bonaparte to the south bank of the Seine. There, 
 without bidding, you would pause a moment to survey 
 the stream whose existence as a barrier between North 
 and South Paris is annihilated by nineteen strongly- 
 arched bridges. I should not allow you to take one 
 of the omnibuses which go constantly to and fro ; for 
 if you were not already posted as to the letter and 
 color of each line, you would surely get the wrong 
 one. Besides, our destination would be simply the 
 immense palace opposite, and this we could reach in a 
 few minutes on foot. I have become quite a pedes- 
 trian since coming to Europe, and have thus saved 
 many a franc to invest in kid gloves and ribbons. 
 
 Of the three bridges which lead into the courts of 
 the Louvre, the right hand is best, for it is used solely 
 by foot passengers. On this bridge there is nothing 
 
448 SCENES rsr parts 
 
 to obstruct your way except two rival comb-dealers. 
 Each carries his whole stock in his right hand, and 
 cries incessantly: 
 
 *' Un petit peine — quinze centimes — frois sous/ 
 Un petit peine — quinze centimes — trois sous 1 ' ' 
 
 It is needless to purchase, for they will yell 
 at you all the same half hour afterwards as if you 
 were an American merchant come over to lay in a sup- 
 ply of Parisian goods. But you will find their voices 
 a musical relief, if your slumbers have that morning 
 been disturbed by the unearthly notes of itinerant 
 market-women. It is marvelous, the torturous 
 sounds they can draw from the words *' chou-fleur^ 
 radis, pommes, maquereaUf'' etc. In coarseness the 
 French peasant woman surpasses the overtaxed Ger- 
 man. But you might think it waste of time to tarry 
 upon the bridge for so much comment ; if so, you need 
 only turn your eyes to the East and contemplate the 
 Gothic pile of Notre Dame. You can recall the fact 
 that here Josephine was crowned by Napoleon in pres- 
 ence of Pius YII. If you will go to Versailles you 
 wiU see a most splendid picture of this coronation. In 
 it Josphine is lovely, for she kneels gracefully before 
 the Emperor and her face is seen in profile, thus con- 
 cealing the want of beauty in her mouth. The Pope 
 looks on with a stupefied air, as if forced to witness 
 that which only his weak nature keeps him from oppos- 
 ing. I fear now, I should not make so good a guide 
 after all ; there are so many things I should want to 
 tell you at once. In the Louvre there is such a 
 
LETTER FIETY-ONE. 449 
 
 bewildering host of pictures, there was surely no need 
 of this immediate recruit from Versailles. Once in the 
 Louvre, we should have before us a good day's work 
 to get a general idea of its arrangement. We shouldn't 
 return to the hotel for lunch; there are plenty of 
 restaurants much nearer the palace. It would be more 
 convenient to carry a sandwich in your pockets and 
 eat it in whatever part of the gallery twelve o'clock 
 might find you ; but I tried that plan one day. I was 
 innocently enjoying a nice apple when one of the 
 guards came up to me, and lifting his cocked hat, 
 said; — 
 
 "Madam, I beg your pardon, but you are not 
 allowed to eat in the gallery." 
 
 In Italy, St. Peter's was not too good a place for nie 
 to eat my lunch, for I know better than to drop 
 crumbs on the floor. They spoiled me in Italy ; it 
 takes these French to teach me my place again. I 
 suppose if I had a permission from the President of 
 the Kepublic, and would submit it to the inspection of 
 the half a hundred officers scattered throughout the 
 building, they would let me eat an apple undisturbed; 
 but the Parisians delight in red tape. We learned this 
 through a little transaction at the custom-house. We 
 sent our trunks through as freight from Florence, and 
 at the expiration of twenty days, went to the 
 ^^ Dotiane" in search of them. We presented our 
 certificate at the first desk; the man read it through 
 and told me to hand it to the next. This one sub- 
 jected it to the same scrutiny, scribbled a few lines in 
 
450 PARTF1TAN CUSTOM. 
 
 his book and passed it to a third. Led by this man 
 we crossed the street to the opposite depot, where he 
 bade us wait till he could find the trunks. We saw 
 him roll them out, one after the other, when he dis- 
 appeared without telling us what to do next. We 
 were standing near an office, over which " Inspecteitr" 
 was written. I thought I would call on the bald- 
 headed agent, whom I could see through the window. 
 "Will you please examine our baggage?" I asked, 
 with some trepidation. 
 
 " When your paper comes, Madam," was his bland 
 reply. 
 
 Well we stood (there was no place to sit) and waited 
 for that paper. Every few minutes an officer came in 
 with a bundle for some one else, but it was a whole 
 hour before the inspector declared himself ready for 
 us. I thought he would unpack our trunks to the bot- 
 tom after all that formal delay, but he. was a delicate 
 man and already weary. 
 
 *' Have you any cigars or tobacco? " he asked. 
 I assured him that I had not. This was rather a 
 superflous question to put to one who detests the weed 
 as I do ; but perhaps he took me for -a Eussian. I 
 know of one Russian lady in Naples who is said to 
 smoke forty cigarettes a day, and is clever enough to 
 smuggle them every one. The inspector pretended to 
 look through one trunk, then put his red mark on all. 
 But we were not yet through. 
 
 "Take your paper back to the other office now," 
 was his direction. Again it had to pass from desk to 
 
LETTER FIFTY-ONE. 451 
 
 desk. We paid the expressage, I signed my name — 
 no I signed Kate's name, for the certificate was addressed 
 to her; so we might have swindled them after all. We 
 called a carriage now ; the coachman lifted the trunks up 
 ontop,and we were going to follow, when we were told to 
 present our papers to the gentleman in that little box to 
 the left. By this time, instead of a single sheet we had a 
 great package of official documents, and this man had 
 to peruse the whole volume, giving each page a sus- 
 picious glance. Then he filled the blanks on a little slip 
 taken from his drawer, and said we were to hand this 
 to the porter, while the well-read bundle was to be 
 again put in Brother's pocket. We gave the slip to 
 the porter, he gave it to the coachman, and we were 
 allowed to depart. At the gate of the custom-house 
 yard the carriage stopped, two more officials appeared 
 at the window and asked for a peep at that mys- 
 terious bundle of paper. Brother handed it to one ; 
 he read it while the second h^Id his cigar. He again 
 relumed it, and we were shortly beyond custom-house 
 domains. This is but a matter-of-fact specimen of 
 French management of affairs. 
 
 But I have wandered entirely from the Louvre. 
 We should devote ourselves first to the ground-floor. 
 Through the museum of antique sculpture we can soon 
 pass, for it contains few things comparable with the 
 treasures of the Vatican. Before the Venus de Milo, 
 however, we must pause long. Both arms of this 
 beautiful antique have been broken ofi^ above the el- 
 bow; but there is left the matchless poise of the head, 
 
452 WOEKS OF ART. 
 
 the graceful curves of the perfectly proportioned 
 body, and the rare expression of soul-depth in the 
 face. There is no need of catalogue in this museum, 
 for on each pedestal is the name of the work of art 
 which it bears. Many of them are put down as of the 
 Borghese collection. You remember Napoleon I. was 
 very munificent to the Louvre — munificent as were 
 the Popes of former days to Rome. It was but fol- 
 lowing the example of the Holy Fathers, when he 
 helped himself to the rarest statuary and paintings 
 Italy could afford. As it resulted, most of these were 
 simply borrowed long enough to obtain exact copies, 
 which still adorn the Louvre. 
 
 If you should wish to drive still further into the an- 
 tique, we could next cross the court and explore the 
 Assyrian and Egyptian collections. For my part, I 
 should prefer to enter at once the department of mod- 
 ern sculpture. One tires after a while of the ever 
 recurring subjects of Grecian sculptors. It is a pleas- 
 ure to find something new, though less perfectly 
 treated. The chisel of Canova has furnished the gem 
 of this collection, Cupid and Psyche, but I shall not 
 attempt a description. We must go up stairs and lose 
 ourselves in the long galleries of pictures there. 
 From the delicate genre scenes of Greuze to the gross 
 absurdities of Rubens, every bit of canvas presents 
 something of interest. There is no lack of the Old 
 Masters in their finest style: Raphael's St. Michael 
 conquering Satan; Andre del Sarto's most refined edi- 
 tion of his wife's face as Madonna; Murillo's Yirgin 
 
LETTER FIFTY-ONE, 453 
 
 of the Immaculate Conception; Da Vinci's cunning- 
 eyed MonaLisa ; Titian's Entombment of thie Savior; 
 Paul Veronese's Supper at Cana, and others. But 
 these are so Judiciously mingled with other subjects 
 by later artists, that one can not grow sated. There 
 are Canallette's scenes from Venice; Panini's inte- 
 riors, among which that of St. Peter's is recognizable; 
 Albani's wood nymphs, clipping wings of sleeping cu- 
 pids ; Robert's Neapolitan Group ; Mayer's Boating by 
 Moonlight; Poussin's landscapes; David's superb 
 classic and historic pieces. 
 
 It is likely you would want a breath of fresh air by 
 five o'clock, and there is no more charming place than 
 the Tuillerie Gardens to enjoy it. The trees are all in 
 full leaf now, and every afternoon the people of Paris 
 resort thither. The little ones are busy with their 
 tiny wooden spades, filling their buckets with the clean 
 sand and emptying it again in great heaps ; boys of 
 ten and twelve are sailing their boats in the large, cen- 
 tral basin ; fathers and mothers witness with pleasure 
 the sports of their children. You would see beyond 
 the Obelisk of Luxor and the two fountains of the 
 Place de la Concorde — further still, the prominent 
 triumphal arch erected by Napoleon I., and between 
 them the Avenue Champs Elysees ; but you would be 
 too tired and hungry to be attracted further, even by 
 such objects. At least that's the way I feel just now, 
 and for that reason shall go no further to-night. I 
 shall prove to you yet, however, that I know some- 
 thins: of Paris. 
 
.454 TUILLERIE GARDENS. 
 
 We have return tickets to America for the 27th of 
 May, by the Auchoria, a new steamer of the Anchor 
 Line. We have yet to see something of England and 
 Ireland, and last, but not least, the Exposition at 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
 LETTER LH. 
 
 Paris, May 7, 1876. 
 Dear Brother South: 
 
 tHIS is Sunday afternoon, my last in Paris. We 
 havebeenherenowa week longer than we at first 
 expected. I wanted to stay till the 2d, in order to visit 
 the exposition of pictures painted this year by French 
 artists ; the 2d found Kate still too weak to make the 
 journey to London, so we concluded to wait till to- 
 morrow, the 8th. We propose starting at noon for 
 Dieppe, which we can reach in a few hours ; at seven 
 in the evening, we will go aboard the steamer, and will 
 be carried by night to New Haven ; at nine next 
 morning, we should be in London. I can scarcely 
 believe that in so short a time we shall be again among a 
 people who speakour own tongue. I have become so ac- 
 customed to hearing other languages, that I never expect 
 a stranger to speak English. I can understand enough 
 French now to catch items of conversation as I am 
 
LETTER FIFTY-TWO. 455 
 
 passing along the street. For instance, the other day 
 
 I was crossino; the bridge on which ever since our ar- 
 cs o 
 
 rival two have been engaged in selling combs. They 
 have been the only peddlers on the bridge, till the last 
 few days, in which an old, gray-haired man with open- 
 rings for keys has distracted the attention of the 
 passing public. He calls out all the time " wn sow" 
 (one cent) and as V. was in need of the article the 
 other day, he stopped to buy one. It turned out it 
 was only the very small ones at the bottom of his 
 string which were so cheap, and V. had to pay two 
 sous for the one he selected. Thus the old man by 
 crying one sou creates a false impression, and I over- 
 heard one of the comb-men give him a moral lecture 
 upon the subject yesterday. 
 
 "You are all the time saying, ' one sou, one sou,' " 
 said his reprover, " and you know it is not true. These 
 big ones are four sous, these are three, and these two; 
 why don't you say ' four sous ! four sous? ' " 
 
 The old man listened till the harangue was ended, 
 then pulling away commenced anew his monotonous 
 " wn soul unsouf" while the honest comb dealer 
 looked after him in hopeless contempt. I don't know 
 how they have finally adjusted the difficulty, for to- 
 day all were absent from their wonted beat. But 
 these little episodes are probably less interesting to you 
 than to me. 
 
 I am making good use of this extra week in further 
 familiarizing myself with the French language. I am 
 now reading an amusing book by Jules Yerne, " Ze 
 
456 THE FRENCH LANGUAGE. 
 
 Tour des Monde en quartre-vingt Jours ^^ *' The Tour 
 of the World in Eighty Days." It is largely inter- 
 spersed with conversations, so it is quite an aid in 
 acquiring colloquial French. Soon after coming to 
 Paris, I arranged with our landlady to exchange con- 
 versation lessons every evening. This has saved me 
 both money and time. I meet many here who have 
 studied French several years before coming, yet 
 they are perfectly dumb in Paris, while from the first, 
 I have been able to understand and be understood. I 
 wonder if am destined never to use French after this 
 tour? I can not think so. I have always felt it a 
 duty to use every opportunity for the acquisition of 
 knowledge; and, hitherto, I have always found a use 
 for all the knowledge in my possession. . I remember 
 when I first went to college, an old lady said : — 
 
 «* Well, I know Dory will study monstrous hard; 
 but 'taint much use fur a gal to have book larnin'. 
 She jist gits married, and forgits all she knowed." 
 
 If I thought the old lady's prediction would be ver- 
 ified, I should certainly forego all the anticipated bliss 
 of the connubial state. 
 
 Vachel and I have some fun out of these French and 
 also allow them many a laugh at our expense. I went 
 with him, the other day, to buy a suit of clothes. 
 
 There had been an advertisement handed to him on 
 the street upon which was the following: " Wedding- 
 suit for thirty-nine francs (seven and four-fifths dol- 
 lars)." Armed with this slip of paper, we hunted out 
 the clothing store. "Liquidation! Liquidation!" 
 
LETTER FIFTY-TWO. 457 
 
 was written all over the front of the building, as is 
 usual in these shops where limited patronage requires 
 them to adopt some such trick for catching customers. 
 We were shown up stairs, a fat, jolly-looking clerk 
 bowed us a welcome. Brother pointed to the adver- 
 tisement ; the fellow stuck his tongue in the side of his 
 cheek, winked one eye, shook his finger at us and 
 laughed, as much as to say: " I understand the case 
 exactly." He imagined that I was the blushing bride 
 elect, and that this was my betrothed, in whose wed- 
 ding-suit I must, of course, feel a great interest. He 
 produced the suit with the air of one who felt sure of 
 pleasing, winked and laughed again. We laughed too, 
 for, of course, it was nothing fit to wear. We asked 
 for something of better quality. " Oh ! yes," he said, 
 and skipped about in a lively search for something 
 more desirable. His black coats were all too coarse, 
 and we asked for something colored. At this he 
 opened his eyes, but was too polite to tell us in words, 
 that a wedding-suit must always be black. He brought 
 out a very pretty coat and vest, tried it on V., then 
 looked around to see the admiration in my eyes. Y. 
 decided to take this suit, then priced a good many 
 other things — or rather I did it for him. To all these 
 we objected with the assurance that we could get them 
 cheaper in England. Finally we were leaving when 
 he noticed V.'s rusty hat. 
 
 " Oh ! don't you want another hat? " he cried out. 
 
 *' He has another one — a nice silk one he bought 
 this morning — a twenty franc one," I told him the 
 
458 A SLIGHT MISTAKE 
 
 best I could, suppressing all the time laughter at the 
 ridiculous light in which we were placing ourselves. 
 
 ** Well, I have something else for you," and he fol- 
 lowed us down stairs ; by another significant gesture of 
 his forefinger, bade us wait a minute ; took a key, and 
 with mysterious air, unlocked his desk. 
 
 TVith another flourish he handed me something which 
 proved to be a little round mirror, with the card of the 
 house on the back. I suppose he thought it would be 
 an aid in arranging my bridal toilet. He stood in 
 the door to watch us out of sight, and no doubt, he is 
 still laughing about the English custom of a young 
 lady's going around to select her sweetheart's wedding 
 suit. 
 
 I have bought a number of pictures here, among 
 others a view of the bed in which Napoleon I. used to 
 sleep in his palace at Fontainebleau. I saw the bed 
 when I was there, and this picture is colored so you 
 can see the richness of the velvet coverings. I have 
 also procured a graphoscope, which gives to my views 
 the perspective of reality. How many, many things 
 I shall have to tell you ! As long as I am able to 
 talk, I shall have something to tell of Europe ; and as 
 long as I am able to read, I shall have something to 
 learn of its past history. I am so grateful for the 
 privileges of this year ! If I can get back safe to you, 
 if I can get a place to teach not too far from home, I 
 shall be very, very happy. But what right have I 
 to expect such continual gratification of my hopes ? 
 There may yet come months of separation, but they 
 
LETTER FIFTY-TWO. 459 
 
 will end as the last twelve have done. I shall cease to 
 think of anything beyond that anticipated meeting in 
 New York, I can not believe that in nineteen days, 
 we are to try once more the perils of the deep. Indeed, 
 this will be my last letter, and you will give me the 
 answer in person. I am so glad we shall be very busy 
 the next three weeks, for otherwise they would seem 
 interminable. And then that nine days' ocean voy- 
 age I Will it ever pass ? Eleven days did not seem 
 long before, but then each one was taking us from 
 home and friends to strange lands and strange faces. 
 The return will be so different. But you will be 
 watching for us, won't you? You'll seethe Anchoria 
 from the time she is a mere speck in the horizon, till 
 she gradually develops into hull and sails, till you can 
 distinguish sailors among the rigging ; till you can 
 descry upon the "Lookout " the captain with glass in 
 hand ; till you can see groups of passengers on deck ; 
 till you can see that one among them is the *' girl who 
 left you behind" in that long ago June-day, in Cin- 
 cinnati, and that she is waving her handkerchief in 
 recognition. What may happen after the ship touches 
 the pier, we shall leave to the inspiration of the mo- 
 ment — or rather to the proprieties of the occasion. 
 
 Now let me tell you something about the Exposition 
 of pictures. This is something which occurs annually — 
 begins always first of May. I saw from the catalogue 
 that there were more than three thousand pictures, all 
 pointed since last May by French artists. During 
 the Exposition, these works are daily subjected to the 
 
460 THE EXPOSITION. 
 
 criticism of the public. Many artists thus find pur- 
 chasers ; but the very best are usually bought by the 
 government and placed in the Luxembourg Palace. 
 There they remain till the death of the artist, when 
 if considered worthy, they are transferred to the 
 Louvre. I went on Friday with no intention, how- 
 ever, of making a purchase. I had to go alone, for 
 Kate thought there were other things more important 
 for her to see than these modern pictures, and she 
 could not go alone. It was not so nice as being with 
 you in the gallery at Cincinnati; but I determined 
 to do a good day's work. 
 
 The very first picture was " The Bridal Tour." A 
 couple in a nice carriage were being driven down a hill, 
 over a road with deep ruts on either side. The bride- 
 groom was anxiously directing the course of the coach- 
 man ; but the bride sat back calmly trusting everything 
 to her better half. May be she had previously given 
 him a little private advice — don't know. 
 
 Another very striking work by Forberg was a littl e 
 girl reading to her grandfather, a gray-haired veteran, 
 the news of the Prussian victories in 1870 and 1871. 
 Her only thought is to pronounce each word distinctly 
 for grandpapa's dull ear; but each one pierces to his 
 heart and is written in bitter anguish on his face. 
 
 The aim of the French school, a few years ago, was 
 to imitate Grecian models. Every bit of drapery was 
 studiousl}'' avoided; every attitude was statuesque. 
 
 Now, the study of nature seems to be the aim. This 
 is especially noticeable in their fruits and flowers. 
 
LETTER FIFTY-TWO. 461 
 
 There is one bit of canvas over which a light wind has 
 blown two or three branches of a wild rose bush; 
 there is another with a bunch of just ripening wild 
 plums. This is so much prettier and more graceful 
 than dishes of fruit, or stiff bouquets of flowers. 
 
 London, May 8. — I quit last night, — no, night be- 
 fore last — in Paris, because I was tired and sleepy, 
 and besides I wanted to keep the letter until now that 
 I might tell you of our safe arrival in this great 
 metropolis. You should have been with us last night 
 from Dieppe over the English Channel to New Haven. 
 We reached Dieppe at six in the afternoon, claimed the 
 best berths on our side of the steamer, went to dinner 
 out in town, then strolled down to the beach. 
 
 Oh ! the waves were awe-inspiring as they came 
 rushing towards the shore, and broke into perpendic- 
 ular cliffs of spray at our feet. We watched it till the 
 moon rose above the house-tops, and lent a silvery glim- 
 mer to the turbulent waters. It was glorious to watch 
 it thus from land ; but I knew I never had witnessed 
 such a sea, and felt sure we were in for a good shaking 
 up. We retired about ten, and soon I was asleep, but 
 troubled in my dreams with the thought that Kate was 
 terribly sea-sick. The truth was the ship had not 
 started, and did not start till half past one. At her 
 first lurch, my napping was ended, and in less than a 
 quarter of an hour every lady in the cabin was sick, 
 excepting one, and that one was not myself. Vachel 
 looked like a ghost, this morning, when he stuck in his 
 head to inquire after our welfare. I'll tell you more 
 
462 ATLANTIC OCEAN'. 
 
 about it when I shall have slept off the idea that I am 
 still on that ship with the waves, every minute dashing 
 over the deck. We begin to dread the voyage home, 
 lest last night'' s experience be repeated. In spite of 
 the suffering, though, it was really funny. We have 
 nice lodgings near Fleet Street, and shall begin seeing 
 London to-morrow. 
 
 EUDOEA, 
 
 LETTER LIL 
 
 Atlantic Ocean, June 6, 1876. 
 
 Dear Brother Graham. : 
 
 WwT'"^ have just finished our fifth ample meal for 
 ^^T to-day, and each one is looking about for 
 some new eveming's entertainment. The juveniles recur 
 to their dominoes ; players of backgammon rattle their 
 dice anew; my lord, the Provost of Glasgow, has 
 challenged three of his sturdy countrymen to a game 
 of whist ; two gentlemen are aiding me in the effort 
 to dissipate the contents of a huge ink-stand. To- 
 morrow evening, the captain says, the spires of New 
 York will be between us and sunset ; and early Thurs- 
 day morning we will have the pleasure of displaying 
 our new dresses, ties, gloves, pictures, and other val- 
 ables to our old friends of the Custom House. De- 
 
LETTER FIFTY-THREE. 463 
 
 \ 
 
 lightf ul anticipation ! Hope they will not take a fancy 
 to our new " Paris kids," and help themselves to as 
 many pairs as did their brethren on the English bor- 
 der. 
 
 Ten days since, we left Glasgow, rejoicing in the 
 thought that perhaps a dozen suns might rise to reveal 
 no " new thing beneath." We were heartily tired of 
 the daily renewed duty of sight-seeing; it had become 
 a burden of which we were glad to be rid. In fact, we 
 were thoroughly convinced that one year's travel is 
 quite enough for once ; whether your aim be to crowd 
 your brain, or empty your purse. One might have 
 safely offered that day to pay my expenses to Jerusa- 
 lem. 
 
 We dropped gently down the Clyde and saw its 
 green banks melt gradually into gray ocean, but we 
 hadn't energy to indulge a single regret ; we anchored 
 at Moville next morning to take in new passengers, 
 but we viewed their faces with equal apathy ; Ireland 
 receded from us as Scotland had done, but we let it go 
 with scarce a sigh for the unseen Killarney. By Mon- 
 day we were fully at sea, and, in common with our 
 fellow-passengers, in a state of disgust at the contrary 
 winds and waves. In truth, this disgust increased till 
 it grew into an epidemic nausea. Tuesday morning 
 came, but still the winds were hurling waves against 
 our bow, and still the disgust prevailed. 
 
 But I had come aboard the Anchoria thoroughly sat- 
 urated with novelties, and was now determined to en- 
 courage no longer even a new sensation. By the 
 
464 MAN OVEKBOARD. 
 
 fourth day many others had Joined me in this resolve, 
 and to-night everybody is in a good humor with the 
 good ship, its captain and crew. But there are not on 
 board to-night all who began with us the voyage. Two 
 incidents have occurred to sadden this return trip. 
 One day, when we were about mid-ocean, and just as 
 we had commenced our four o'clock dinner, we were 
 startled by a rushing of many feet overhead, and the 
 cry of, — 
 
 *' Man overboard ! man overboard ! '* 
 i Instantly the captain dropped his carving knife, the 
 first mate followed his example, and a minute after- 
 ward, the salon was deserted, while hundreds of ex- 
 cited faces peered over the railing at the stern of the 
 vessel. The sea was more quiet than it han been on 
 any previous day ; but the boat let down to the rescue 
 seemed a frail thing to contend with the jet high-rolling 
 billows. Almost breathlessly we watched the tiny bark 
 as it rose upon the top of one wave, then disappeared 
 to rise above the white crest of the next. Eagerly we 
 watched, as they completed the circuit, and turned 
 toward the ship. Sadly we saw the boat again drawn 
 up with only the six sturdy sailors on board. They had 
 sought in vain for the unfortunate wretch, and the 
 captain could only give the order to put on steam and 
 leave him to the mercy of the waters. Every one 
 found his tongue now, and the one question was, — 
 
 *' Who was he?" 
 ^ The answers to this were rather indefinite, but the 
 first mate said he was an Irishman who belonged to the 
 
LETTER FIFTY-THREE. 465 
 
 crew. He had been complaining that he was sick, but 
 the ship doctor could see nothing the matter with him, 
 so he was not excused from duty. The other sailors 4 
 kept teasing him, calling him a lazy fellow. He grew 
 more and more dejected every day, and finally had 
 thought to put an end to his miseries by jumping over- 
 board. This was all we could learn of the cause of ^'^ 
 the suicide ; but, no doubt, the return of the lost one 
 will be a subject of longing to many an anxious heart. 
 
 Night before last some of the passengers were 
 anxious to have a dance. It was only necessary for the 
 steward to remove the tables, when the salon would 
 afford plenty of space. Some one took it upon him- 
 self to ask the captain's permission, thinking an easy ^ 
 assent would be obtained; but his answer was: — 
 
 "No, it is not proper to have dancing at the same 
 time with such serious illness on board." 
 
 These words of his referred to a Frenchman who 
 had been very sick from the moment he came on board, ^ 
 and was now pronounced worse. This morning the 
 stewardess came to the door of our state-room to tell us 
 that during the night the poor man had breathed his 
 last, and that at eleven o'clock be would be buried in 
 the sea. This was his request, though we were within ^ 
 a few hundred miles of New York. He had one friend 
 on board, and on him must devolve the duty of writ- 
 ing back the sad tidings to the friends of the deceased. 
 Promptly at eleven the passengers assembled on deck. 
 Two of the sailors came forward with hammers, ^ 
 loosed a movable portion of the iron railing, and moved 
 30 
 
466 BUE-rAL AT SEA. 
 
 it to one side. Now the crowd of steerages parted to 
 make room for the pall-bearers. Thej seemed to bear 
 their burden with difficulty, owing, I suppose, to the 
 weights put along with the corpse in the box. The 
 rude coffin was placed upon the plank, with the feet 
 turned toward the water ; the red flag which had been 
 spread over it was removed , then the sailors lifted 
 their hats in reverence while the funeral service was 
 read. Tears rolled down the cheeks of the captain, 
 for familiarity with such scenes has not hardened his 
 heart ; a feeling of awe came upon each one as the 
 voice of the preacher foretold the resurrection of the 
 dead, whether they be hidden in the bosom of the 
 earth, or the bosom of the deep. As the last word of 
 the service was uttered one end of the plank was 
 raised, the black box slided off, we heard it fall into 
 the water, then the crowd dispersed. 
 
 Glencoe, July 2, 1876. -^ Probably " Foreign Cor- 
 respondence " from Glencoe will seem rather tame, but 
 I must finish this letter. It has been almost a month 
 since the night I wrote the above; but until now I 
 have had no leisure to continue. 
 
 Well, we did reach New York next day, June 7th, 
 sure enough. Never was the strand of Loch Katrine 
 more beautifully silver than the white line of the Long 
 Island Beach ; never seemed Italian villas more roman- 
 tic than the tree-embowered country-seats on Staten 
 Island. "We knew we were yet a thousand miles from 
 our own homes ; but that thousand miles would be upon 
 American soil, and as our feet touched the pier, our 
 
LETTER FIFTY-THREE. 467 
 
 hearts beat to the glad tune of " Home at last." But 
 our troubles were not over yet, for there were those 
 bugbears, the Custom House officers. We opened 
 those trunks once more (by the way you would scarcely 
 recognize them as the bright, new ones with which we 
 started), and the search began. I had one article 
 which I supposed contraband, and for convenience had 
 placed on top. Sure enough, he seized upon it, and in a 
 few minutes came back with a bill calling for a duty of 
 six dollars in gold. I paid it, but I think just now 
 that I could recite to you the arguments in favor of 
 free trade better than I did the day I was examined in 
 political economy. But we were too happy to fret 
 long over small matters, and too patriotic at that mo- 
 ment not to excuse the few imperfections in our gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 As I said in the beginning, we were sick of sight- 
 seeing when we left Scotland; but eleven days of 
 monotonous sea-life had quite cured us. Our zest for 
 novelty had fully returned. We went once more to 
 Central Park, to find its attractions in no wise dimin- 
 ished by comparison with Hyde Park of London, or 
 with the Eoyal Gardens at Versailles. A trip up the 
 Hudson and back consumed the next day ; Saturday 
 morning we came down to Philadelphia, and took a 
 peep that day at the main building of the Exposition. 
 Sunday morning we met with a small congregation of 
 Disciples, where we heard a most excellent discourse 
 by Prof. Brown, of Indianapolis. In the evening we 
 spent a half hour in silent meditation with the Friends. 
 
468 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 Monday and Tuesday we '* did up" the rest of the 
 Exposition, and Tuesday night we started to Niagara 
 Falls. You see I haven't space to describe my im- 
 pressions on beholding the mighty cataract ; and had I 
 space, ability would still be lacking. I leave you to 
 imagine also the welcome home, and the depth of our 
 gratitude to find that the Good Father had spared all 
 the ** dear ones " to greet our return. 
 
 EUDOEA. 
 
 LETTER LIY. 
 
 Glencoe, December 10, 1876. 
 Dear Brother Graham: 
 
 tN the usual formal notice, some weeks ago, you 
 made known to your readers the sudden terminus 
 to " Eudora's " career. A friend of mine thus briefly 
 disposed of my biography: " Went to Europe^ came 
 hack, got married.'^ Quite a climax, you see, but 
 some think it one of an inverse order. I know per- 
 sons differ in their opinions of matrimony ; some call 
 uiQ fortunate in thus finding rest from my wanderings 
 in a home offered by love, others say 'twas foolish to 
 sacrifice a world-wide freedom for ever so tender a 
 bondage. Be that as it may, I wish to inform you 
 that *'Kate" has proved neither more wise nor less 
 
LETTER FIFTY-FOUR. 469 
 
 fortunate than myself. I parted from her five min- 
 utes ago at mother's gate. She was only my friend 
 during those months abroad, but she is my sister now. 
 The third party, who figured in my letters as ' ' Brother," 
 and was occasionally mentioned by her as "the Doctor" 
 is now her husband. Their courtship was romantic, 
 and I could tell you all about it, but I prefer to reserve 
 that till I write my first sensational novel. 
 
 Their wedding took place Thanksgiving Day, at the 
 home of her father, E. S. Frazee, in Eush County, 
 Indiana. The wintry blasts of that day were rather a 
 rude greeting to guests, coming as did some of us, 
 from a southern clime ; but the warmth and cheer 
 within made us soon forget the snows without. 
 
 At half past one, the bride in the wonted veil and 
 orange blossoms, ended our suspense in the certainty 
 of her presence. Each uttered calmly the responsive 
 " I do," which transformed Miss E. Katie Frazee into 
 Mrs. Dr. V. T. Lindsay. First to salute the bride was 
 O. A. Burgess, who, in solemn tones had just pro- 
 nounced them man and wife. He extended his con- 
 gratulations not only to the newly wedded pair, but to 
 the attendants, Miss Belle Frazee and Mr. N. T. Lind- 
 say, whose graceful performance of their part he com- 
 plimented. Grandmas, parents, brothers and sisters, 
 uncles, aunts, cousins and friends, joined in the well- 
 wishing, till the couple, well-nigh smothered with 
 kisses, led the way to the dining-room. To appreciate 
 the substantials was quite in place, now that the senti- 
 mental part was over, and never did Thanksgiving 
 
470 ORANGE BLOSSOMS. 
 
 turkey, oysters, and sweetmeats receive more hearty at- 
 tention. I found myself next to the Rev. L. D. Potter, 
 D. D., of Glendale College, and was somewhat embar- 
 rassed thereby, for I recalled a little deception which 
 I practiced upon him last summer. He offered me a 
 position of honor in his school ; I declined upon the 
 grounds that a previous desirable offer had already 
 been accepted. Of course he interpreted this as 
 referring to a position in some other college, and knew 
 no better till he saw me here with the married people 
 at the first table. With his young wife beside him, 
 however, he could not consistently ridicule my weak- 
 ness, so we were soon conversing upon easy terms. 
 The guests lingered till the evening, and then were 
 loth to go. 
 
 Next morning, at an early hour, the bridal party left 
 for Glencoe, Kentucky, where " Kate " has learned to 
 say "Father and Mother Lindsay," and to open her 
 heart to a goodly number of new relatives. She and 
 Brother start to-morrow for Springfield, Illinois, his 
 place of practice. Eudora. 
 
 A long life of unalloyed connubial bliss to ** Eu- 
 dora " and "Kate." Their names have not only 
 become familiar to our readers, but dear as well, on 
 account of the rich entertainments afforded through 
 the " Foreign Correspondence " in this and the pre- 
 
LETTER FIFTY-FOUR. 471 
 
 ceding volume of the Apostolic Times. And in behalf 
 of our readers, we here express the hope that the hap- 
 piness abounding in the " homes offered by love " to 
 these fair and gifted writers will not induce a forget- 
 fulaess of their pens. They are hereby earnestly 
 requested by the editors of this paper to continue their 
 interesting contributions to its columns. 
 
 LETTER LY 
 
 Excelsior Institute, December 2, 1884. 
 
 Dear Reader: 
 
 OMETIME since, one who had read our letters 
 to Bro. Graham, asked a friend of mine, " Do 
 tell me what ever became of the Doctor? Perhaps you 
 who have read the preceding pages, feel some such 
 interest in regard to those of whom I have spoken. It 
 was my pleasure, this summer, to visit Kate and the 
 " Doctor," in their cheerful home in Springfield, 
 Illinois, and I have in my album a group of their four 
 bright-eyed children, one to match each of mine. 
 While there I also enjoyed the privilege of spending a 
 day in company with Miss Pickrell at the hospitable 
 home of her sister, Mrs. Passfield. She proved a no 
 less agreeable companion on land than on sea. 
 
 Mr. P., of Cincinnati, my gallant attendant on the 
 
^Y2 LETTER FIFTY-nVE. 
 
 Bastei, is another whom we again met some months 
 after our return. The last heard of him he had 
 recently become a Benedict. 
 
 With, dear Miss Shaw, Kate and I both keep up an 
 occasional correspondence. She has turned to good 
 account her knowledge of foreign lands ; for twice a 
 year she crosses the ocean with a party of seven or 
 eight ladies. For her winter tour she leaves New York, 
 October 1st, and returns about April 10th, a space of six 
 months. On her summer tour she embarks May 15th, 
 and returns September 15th, time four months. Any 
 lady who desires to see Europe under the guidance of 
 an intelligent and careful chaperon, would do well to 
 address Miss Anne Shaw, care of Messrs. John Mun- 
 roe & Co., 8 Wall Street, New York. Miss Shaw 
 writes that she is quite happy in this kind of life, and 
 protests she does not in the least envy me and Kate 
 the tender bondage in which we live. Of course she'll 
 pardon us for being a little skeptical on that head ; 
 but I can think of nothing, which, if practicable, would 
 a:fford me more delight than, with Miss Shaw, to live 
 over again those happy Italian days. Miss Shaw says 
 she would like to take with her young ladies whom I 
 have trained, for, she thinks, they would appreciate 
 Europe. If you, dear reader, desire such special train- 
 ing, we gladly offer to you the privileges of Excelsior 
 Collegiate Institute, near Jett, Franklin County, Ken- 
 tucky. If you should desire to attend commencement 
 on the second Wednesday in June, write a card to that 
 effect, addressing 
 
 Mrs. Eudora Lindsay South. 
 
PART 11. 
 
 FIRESIDE THODGHTS. 
 
 (473) 
 
FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 ESSAYS. 
 
 Valedictoey Delivered at Hooker (now Hamil- 
 ton) College, June 8, 1871. 
 
 Friends^ Teachers, Schoolmates: 
 
 to remind you of the solemn occasion which has 
 called us together this day is needless. Dear 
 classmates, I see the countenance of each reflects 
 the grave twilight of our school-days' fast declining 
 sun. We will not, with vain words of regret, hasten 
 on the approaching darkness of our parting hour ; but 
 here, while the last lingering ray remains, let us look 
 around us and decide whither next we shall go. 
 
 Step lightly as we may, some vestige of the path we 
 tread must remain long. after our weary feet shall have 
 rested beneath the sod. This we know by the fate of 
 those gone before, those whose footprints time's swol- 
 len stream has vainly striven to obliterate. Thus far 
 ours has been the broad and beaten way traveled by 
 our fathers, since education has claimed for herself a 
 specific search. We have had naught to do but push 
 straight forward in their steps, for no other leads to 
 the goal. But, to-day, we reach that point in the high- 
 
 (475) 
 
476 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 way where innumerable paths diverge; some lately 
 made, some made years ago, yet easy to be traced. 
 
 Now, how shall we proceed? To remain where we 
 are is impossible. Shall we follow in some path we 
 see before us? or shall we choose the yet unbroken 
 sands as a place for our feet? The question is of 
 moment ; we should weigh it well. Let us not decide 
 too hastily, for, once departed from this point to which 
 the last of our school-days has brought us, return is 
 impossible. Let us pause awhile and examine care- 
 fully a few of these many ways. 
 
 Here, first, is one presented, over which though only 
 one has passed, the distinct impressions show that with 
 confidence the course was undertaken. Yet difficulties 
 seem to arise at the very outset. Former associates 
 are loth to have one of their number pursue a course 
 so different from that which they intend to follow. 
 Many, for a time, keep near his side, and more than 
 one sad deviation tells by what allurements they strive 
 to win him from his purpose. But something far 
 ahead, the object of his aspirations, furnishes the 
 stimulus by which he tears away the fetters of youth- 
 ful folly. Farther and farther his path is separated 
 from those of his former boon companions. Deeper 
 and more distinct becomes his impress in the sands, 
 until the attention of every wayfarer seems directed 
 to his onward progress. Many turn aside to do him 
 honor, and, with symbolic laurel, strew his way. His 
 movements are now the guiding star by which thou- 
 sands direct their steps. To lead and to rule millions 
 
ESSAYS. 477 
 
 is now his prerogative ; for his steady forvvard march 
 has led to a place the highest in the land. 
 
 Shall we go farther? Shall we follow him through 
 all the efforts for still greater power which, doubtless, 
 terminate his course? Our object to-day is not simply 
 to admire the achievements of a predecessor, but to 
 find something suitable for us to imitate. Is this the 
 example for us ? Political fame is his continual incen- 
 tive. Shall we strive for the same ? 
 
 This involves the much agitated question of rights, 
 of Woman's Eights. However illogical, at the outset, 
 I assume, without proof, a right, the right to express 
 my opinion on the subject. Who can plead a better? 
 Am not /, as Mrs. Stanton says, one of the injured 
 party? You know, it is asserted by our sovereign 
 lords, otherwise the men, that we presume too much 
 when we would aspire to political distinction. *'For," 
 say they, ** woman has not sufficient strength of mind 
 to discharge the duties now devolving upon us." In 
 proof of this they cite physical inferiority, as though 
 mind were to be measured by matter. Because the 
 gem is held in casket of finer, more fragile mold, does 
 that prove its value less ? 
 
 But let us allow man his boasted capacity. In the 
 very vanity evinced in his boasting there is a weakness 
 I should not wish to display. The question at issue is 
 better decided on other grounds. It is said by some 
 of our own sex that our condition is, by far, too 
 subordinate; that we should rise and throw off the 
 bondage to which we have been so long subjected. 
 
478 riEESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 *' Woman," say they, *' has as much right to exercise 
 authority as has man." If we admit the premises, the 
 conclusion is inevitable, that to visit oppression is our 
 duty. But is it true that woman's condition is really 
 subordinate ! Man alone may wear the trappings of 
 power; he alone may sit in legislative halls, and, by 
 his voice, enact laws to bind his own and other lands; 
 he alone may hold the reins of government, but does 
 that prove the point? " That authority is greatest 
 which is felt not seen." The man whose intellectual 
 powers are regarded with awe, if candid, must ac- 
 knowledge there is an influence, an authority to which 
 even he is accustomed to yield. This is our power, 
 and this is what we must lose if we become competi- 
 tors of man for political distinction. It seems to me 
 the loss must be much greater than the gain. If we 
 exercise authority over those whose authority is nomi- 
 nally supreme, what more could be desired, what more 
 could be attained? Let us leave man undisturbed to 
 enjoy his fancied supremacy, while we quietly main- 
 tain that which is real. So long as we do this he does 
 not object; for it is only the appearance about which 
 he is so deeply concerned. It is when woman claims 
 the right to vote, to be voted for, and such other for- 
 mal power, that man rebels. It is only in a way not 
 wounding to his pride that he will submit to be ruled. 
 Since it is our intent to exercise the authority which 
 is rightly ours, and since this can not be successfully 
 accomplished by following in the path which leads to 
 political glory ; let us revert to our place on the sands 
 
ESSAYS. 479 
 
 and seek some way better suited to onr purpose. The 
 very fact that our influence is so great, should make 
 us the more careful in our selection. 
 
 Here is one in which the tiny footprints tell no 
 aspirant for immortal renown has passed this way. 
 No great effort seems required to enter upon this 
 path, or continue when once begun. Time's streams 
 overwhelms it not with angry billows; but, upon 
 many a light, caressing wave bears bright shells, as 
 offerings to her feet. There glistening in the contin- 
 ual sunshine of joy, lie the tokens of time's gentle 
 touch. No hurry is indicated, but with music, dance 
 and youthful gayety of every kind, she loiters on her 
 way. She pauses to heed every whisper of admiration 
 borne by the breezes from the lips of those whose 
 paths run beside her own. Every moment is spent in 
 cultivation and enjoyment of the beautiful; but she 
 neglects entirely that conception closely allied, the 
 true. Many who, for a time, adhere to her side, with- 
 draw and address themselves to the pursuit of other 
 objects. Their places are supplied by as many new 
 admirers, whom she welcomes with scarcely a thought 
 of those who have left. 
 
 But why trace each step of her progress ? We see 
 'tis but the path of one devoted to what the world 
 calls pleasure. So long as this is the only end in view, 
 each step is but a repetition of that which precedes. 
 But further on, she seems to have grown weary of so 
 many attendants, and goes accompanied by a single one. 
 Side by side their paths advance-, till finally they are 
 
480 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 blended into one. No need io follow now I The way 
 is no longer hers; for she must place her feet precisely 
 where he, whom she has chosen as her guide, leaves his 
 impress. Perhaps, she renders more distinct the way 
 in which he treads ; but to him alone it is attributed. 
 That only the world calls hers, over which she first 
 proceeded. Is that a way which will win, from every 
 one, a perfect approval? Is that a way in which wom- 
 an's mission is best accomplished? If so, our labor 
 of selection is at an end. A life of ease and gayety 
 is agreeable to contemplate ; youthful pleasures are 
 tempting ; admiration is pleasing, especially to the 
 young ; if these are the highest aim of woman's life, 
 the path before us is the one, Joyous music cheers 
 each step, and the '* merry, merry marriage bells" 
 applaud the last she makes alone. 
 
 Shall we all decide to make this path our own ? It 
 is short and easy, and hence enticing. Doubtless it 
 would excite no great wonder, if we do make such a 
 choice. But its very shortness seems to me an objec- 
 tion, while the influence exerted is far from being the 
 extent of woman's power. To the manner in which it 
 terminates, of course, but few can object ; but may 
 not the same end be attained by a road longer and 
 more worth the following. At least, to attempt such 
 a thing would be commendable. Man, by his ridicule, 
 shows he thinks woman capable of something better ; 
 but, despite his ridicule, even here her influence pre- 
 vails. For the sake of her society he frequently 
 neglects the pursuit of fame or distinction, becomes 
 
ESSAYS. 481 
 
 himself a votary of pleasure. Thus, bj such a course, 
 we diminish his worth, and consequently, lessen the 
 value of the power we hold. Let us choose a course 
 which will tend to excite in him a laudable ambition. 
 This, we have seen, is not to be found in political con- 
 test, nor yet in the ceaseless, senseless round of fashion, 
 where then is it to be found ? Is there no path marked 
 out which leads to such results ? One more let us fol- 
 low to its close, and if it give not satisfaction, let us 
 with independence choose the unbroken sands. 
 
 This time we shall select the path which makes the 
 greatest angle with the one last examined. Probably 
 it will prove the one desired. Even on the highway 
 where we ourselves have passed, this path may be 
 traced. Even there it is, in a great measure, apart 
 from the ordinary course. Whilst others had to plod 
 with care lest they should wander from the way pre- 
 scribed, she who made these footprints seems to have 
 boldly stepped aside. But with that behind we have 
 not now to do, To pass over that portion can never 
 be our lot again ; so, let us contemplate her advance 
 from the position we now occupy. 
 
 Without the hesitation , plainly evinced in the march 
 of others, she eagerly pushes forward. As if know- 
 ing the attempt useless no one seeks to deter her; but, 
 with admiration, all gaze upon her from afar. Her 
 path, for awhile, winds through a verdant vale where 
 beauty sits enthroned. She makes to herself a com- 
 panion of every violet that blossoms at her feet. To 
 her their's is a living language, and to their sentiments 
 
 31 
 
482 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 her souls breathes a response. Each gliding stream, 
 each sparkling fount, each warbling bird, each fleecy 
 cloud, claims a share in her attention. Her buoyant 
 spirit feels naught but joy in every smile or frown on 
 Nature's brow. 
 
 But not long is her path thus smooth and bright. 
 Soon it becomes slightly rugged, while thickening 
 clouds o'erhead involve each step in darkness. But 
 she shrinks not back, nor changes once her course. 
 The only change is in the objects of her care. From 
 discoursing with the flowers she loved so well, she has 
 turned to fellow travelers. In their distress they have 
 appealed to her for help, and she nobly struggles on 
 despite increasing difficulties. Darker and darker it 
 becomes, till in obscurity every trace is lost. But a 
 light breaks on the way, and, triumphantly standing 
 upon an eminence, we see our heroine. Guided by 
 some unseen power, with each hindrance overcome, 
 she reaches forth her hand to pluck the golden bough, 
 destined to open for her an entrance to the realms of 
 immortal Fame. This magic bough, worth the labor 
 of a lifetime, she has attained, and yet upon the way 
 she has found time to extend a helping hand to many 
 in their darkest hour. 
 
 Have we not, at length, found a path upon which we 
 may venture? Is there a single step to which an 
 objection can be urged? Its earliest outset leads the 
 youthful soul to close communion with nature, and 
 through nature with God ; farther on, it guides the 
 maturer spirit through the discipline which only effort 
 
ESSAYS. 483 
 
 giyes; and lastly, by a way now hidden by some 
 mysterious cause, it terminates where fame asserts her 
 exclusive claim. By pursuing such a course, one must 
 first inhale the devotion which nature ever breathes ; 
 then gain the self-reliance which success in overcoming 
 difficulties ever grants, and win at last, a name which, 
 when uttered by the lip, or received into the ear of 
 posterity, must awaken the desire to follow in the 
 footprints of 
 
 " The few, the immortal names, 
 That were not born to die." 
 
 But the question may be asked, ** Does it require 
 but a mere determination of the will to enable one to 
 tread in such a path ? Without the light of genius for 
 a guide is it possible to traverse the greater portion of 
 the way? This light dawns on only a favored few, 
 and have we any assurance that any of us are of that 
 number? In answer let me ask, have we any assurance 
 that such is not the case? I wonder if she whose path 
 we have just surveyed while standing here, could see 
 where it would terminate ! Her first steps were 
 prompted merely by the ardor of a soul which glowed 
 with love for the Invisible Spirit, manifested in His 
 glorious works. Is this zeal wanting in our own 
 bosoms? If so, it is not the light of genius that we 
 so much need ; but it is the pure beams of religion's 
 sun. The light difiused from this never-setting orb is 
 not exclusive, but shines on all who choose by it to 
 direct their steps. What then need deter us from at 
 
484 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 least entering upon this way? It is true, even after 
 attempting we may fail to reach the eminence desired, 
 but we know without effort nothing ever can be 
 gained. 
 
 And now having decided in what way to direct our 
 future steps, naught remains except to say " Good-by." 
 Good-by to what? to whom? To our books? Doubt- 
 less, in many a weary hour we each have longed for 
 the time to come when we might bid adieu to such 
 companions. But are we quite ready to leave them 
 now? Let us remember what they have done for us. 
 By a silent power they have brought us from our dis- 
 tant homes to the happy communion of Hocker College ; 
 they have led us daily to pleasant meetings in our 
 recitation rooms, by the difficulties on their pages they 
 have drawn our hearts closely, with a common bond. 
 Can we now throw them aside with a careless good-by ?- 
 We mustsTpeak parting words to college walls, we must 
 endure the last pressure of each classmate's hand, but 
 we need not say ' ' farewell ' ' to our books with their 
 sweet, yet sad associations. We tnay retain them and 
 we will, for they are sacred. 
 
 But besides our books there has been an influence 
 giving to each thought our books contained a living 
 force. This is the influence exerted by the intellect, 
 the wisdom, the goodness of our beloved teachers. 
 And must this be included in the list of things with 
 which we must part? No, no, it may and must live 
 with us forever. But to our teachers themselves our 
 good-by must extend. Words are inadequate to tell 
 
ESSAYS. 485 
 
 the love, the gratitude, the sorrow that we feel. The 
 attempt is vain. He who knows the thought of every 
 heart will write in His book an utterance of the feel- 
 ings we never can express, and on the grand Com- 
 mencement Day of eternal happiness, in the Valedictory 
 to every grief, it shall be read. 
 
 ONLY WAITING. 
 
 A SCHOOL girl's ESSAY. 
 
 JHERE is no unmarried woman , let her be ever so 
 old, who has fully decided never to marry, but 
 each one is only waiting for the right chance." This 
 remark was made to me not long since by a minister, 
 a married man, with whom I was conversing. 
 
 Now, from the first part of the proposition I shall 
 not dissent ; I would only so modify it as to make it 
 equally applicable to both sexes. Nor do I question 
 the prudence of that woman who chooses to defer till 
 "the right chance" offers, if by right chance she 
 means one who will tend to make her life better, 
 nobler, truer, more Christ-like. It is to the expression, 
 ♦' Only Waiting," that I wish to call your attention. 
 Now, there is no need to define terms here. Every- 
 one knows what only waiting means ; but in order to 
 impress its meaning, let us draw a picture. 
 
 Imagine, after a hurried preparation, in which half 
 the hair pins fall from your trembling fingers ; in 
 
486 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 which buttons refuse to match the buttonholes of your 
 dress; in which shoestrings will not lace without break- 
 ing ; in which gloves become unmanageable, and are des- 
 perately thrust into the pocket; imagine after such 
 preparation, you are being driven, bare-handed, with 
 hair tumbling down, in breathless haste to the station. 
 It is almost the minute for the train, and your pulse 
 beats quick, as you listen for its whistle to announce 
 you too late. At last the depot is reached, just at the 
 instant when you should be snatched up with scarcely 
 time to say " Good-by, John I " — but you may 
 breathe freely now ; the train is not even in sight. 
 You are there fully equipped for the journey, so impa- 
 tience takes the place of former suspense. You look 
 now up, now down, the road, forgetting in your 
 perplexity, which way your train should come. Per- 
 haps after a quarter of an hour, you are philosopher 
 enough to reflect that looking and longing will not 
 hasten its coming. Seizing a paper, you determine to 
 think no more about it, till its signal is heard. Here 
 is ''Campaign in Mass," "Cheering Prospects for 
 Greely," "Fashions for November," "Marriage in 
 High Life," etc., some of which would, ordinarily be 
 topics of absorbing interest. You read the first line, 
 when you turn to attend to some commotion outside, 
 and now, though your eyes may seek again the page, 
 you are really only listening for the cry, " Train's 
 coming! " Try ever so hard, you can not rid your- 
 self of the thought, " I am only ivaiting^'^ and every 
 other occupation becomes a pretense. 
 
ESSAYS. 487 
 
 Now, I suppose, there is no one but has had an 
 experience similar to this, and no one but can testify 
 that this is no overdrawn picture ; yet this is the state 
 in which our preacher, and perhaps the world in gen- 
 eral, suppose every unmarried woman to be. Every 
 nerve, they say, is strained to the utmost, in order that 
 a girl may get through school by her eighteenth sum- 
 mer, the due time for graduation, that synonym for 
 announcing a young lady to be marriageable. Now, 
 according to the ordinary course of events, a train of 
 admirers should meet her here; and with scarcely 
 time to bid adieu to the school girl, she appears before 
 the world, a wife. 
 
 But suppose (and such things have been) suppose 
 the admirers do not come at due time. She has 
 acquired the prescribed amount of education ; she has 
 made her debut into society ; now, what is left for her? 
 Why, of course, only waiting! She may, indeed, while 
 away a few hours with her embroidery ; she may 
 receive and return calls ; she may go to places of 
 amusement ; but who, for once, would think of calling 
 that a life-work? After all, it is only waiting, and, 
 as one waiting for a train, mistakes each school-boy's 
 whistle for its signal, so she receives each empty com- 
 pliment as proof that her waiting is almost ended. 
 
 Now, my sisters, this is the opinion the world has 
 of us, and in many cases, I fear it is too near the 
 truth. In this, however, is manifested the principle, 
 that to the human soul an aim in life, a something bet- 
 ter to anticipate, is indispensable. I see nothing weak 
 
488 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 or worthy of ridicule in the fact that a maiden looks 
 forward to that state to which the Creator has destined 
 her ; but what I do think unworthy of her is her 
 treating the interim between her last day at school and 
 her wedding-day as so much blank paper to be filled 
 with illegible scribbling. If, instead of looking for- 
 ward to marriage as the only object in life, she could 
 have some other end in view, either involving mar- 
 riage or not, woman would be both more useful and 
 more contented. 
 
 We all admit, theoretically at least, that we are 
 on probation here, that we are " only waiting " till our 
 Father calls us home. This, unlike all other waitings, 
 requires of us a constant effort from the earliest 
 moment of accountable existence till the instant the 
 summons comes. Let us each embrace eagerly every 
 opportunity for doing good; then, whatever may be 
 our lot, we shall find ourselves perfectly adapted to its 
 requirements. Let us never set our heart so entirely 
 upon any one worldly object, that, failing therein, our 
 whole life may be a worthless wreck. (1872). 
 
 WHOM TO MAREY. 
 
 O woman should ever marry a man to whom she 
 can not, in her heart, say "My lord." Now, 
 don't, my fair sisters, don't toss your heads with an air 
 which says, " No man shall ever reduce me to such sub- 
 
ESSAYS. 489 
 
 mission ; " but wait till I define my meaning. I think I 
 can guess about what pictures my opening declaration 
 has called to your mind. You are thinking of those 
 beautiful wood-cuts in your geographies, with which 
 you were familiar in childhood, those representations 
 of the oriental husband and wife on a pleasure excur- 
 sion, or fleeing from enemies. You see the poor 
 woman trudging through the sands on foot, while he 
 sits majestically astride his donkey looking, indeed, 
 the " master of all he surveys." I say, you doubt- 
 less call up this scene, and ask yourselves, "Would 
 she have us do that way ? ' ' 
 
 Or, again, the picture may be worse than that. 
 Perhaps there rise before your mind's eye those Turk- 
 ish women so shrouded by their immense veils that no 
 eye save that of their despotic lord ever sees the love- 
 liness of their form or face. Accustomed as you are 
 to display what charms nature, or cunning art, may 
 have given ; accustomed as you are to the delightful 
 consciousness of being admired, I do not wonder if 
 you ask with dismay, " Would she have us copy that 
 model? " 
 
 Again, coming to a higher type of civilization, you 
 may recall what you have read of English wives. In 
 England, as in every monarchy, all classes have a more 
 profound reverence for their superiors than is ever seen 
 in our country. So largely is the bump of veneration 
 developed in the heads of most English wives that they 
 are said studiously to avoid such a degree of mental 
 culture as might detract from the spirit of humility 
 
490 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 and dependence, which they think should characterize 
 their feelings towards their husbands. Now, you may 
 ask, '* Is this what she would have us? " 
 
 To all these, I answer "No." I do not ask one of 
 you to take a trip on foot across a desert, or even 
 across a blue grass pasture, while your husband rides ; 
 I don't ask you to exchange your gauzy veil for a piece 
 of muslin with eye-holes cut in it; nor, least of all, do 
 I ask you, for fear of appearing strong-minded, to 
 shrink from comprehending the first principles of 
 mathematics. 
 
 Having explained my position negatively, let me 
 now define it positively. There is in first Peter a 
 passage which says, " Wives, be in submission to your 
 own husbands, even as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling 
 him lord." Now, if we look into the domestic lives 
 of Sarah and Abraham, we may learn what it means 
 to call a husband " lord," or to feel such respect for 
 him as might prompt you to call him lord. We do not 
 find in Sarah such servile submission as to destroy her 
 individuality. You remember when Abraham wished 
 to protect himself by calling Sarah his sister, he does 
 not command her to aid him in this deception ; he 
 merely makes it a request. When Hagar grew inso- 
 lent, Sarah did not tamely submit to being superseded 
 by a servant, but prevailed with Abraham to cast out 
 the bondwoman and her son. 
 
 You see, then, my aim is not to subjugate you to the 
 will of a tyrant, but to make you careful in selecting 
 a companion for life, to choose one to whom your own 
 
ESSAYS. 491 
 
 heart prompts you to say, " my lord." I consider it 
 your solemn duty to live and die an old maid unless 
 you find such an one. Is a man a tyrant, and accus- 
 tomed to make unreasonable demands for the purpose 
 of showing his authority? Then he is not the man. 
 Is he naturally so deficient in mental power that his 
 judgment of practical matters is less reliable than 
 your own? He is not the man. But, worst of all, 
 is he well enough endowed by nature, but in the 
 habit of putting in " his mouth an enemy to steal 
 away his brains?" Then, most emphatically, he is 
 not the man. In short, no matter how rich, how hand- 
 some, how stylish a man may be, unless he commands 
 your profoundest respect, it is a sin to marry him. 
 
 (1872.) 
 
 SOLILOQUY OFA JUNIOE. 
 
 Come back, or not come back? that is the question : — 
 
 Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer 
 
 The "blues" and heartaches of a school-girl's fortune, 
 
 Or to pack trunks again next Friday morning, 
 
 And, ne'er returning, end them? To go, to come 
 
 No more, and by a going say we end 
 
 The essays, and the thousand other pests 
 
 We now are heir to, — 'tis a consummation 
 
 Devoutly to be wished. But here we toil, 
 
 We toil from day to day; ay, there's the rub; 
 
 For in this life at school few restings come. 
 
 When we have shuffled off one mental coil. 
 
 That gives no pause. How long, how long 
 
492 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Must we endure this treadmill life! 
 
 Now, who could bear with cheer such countless tasks; 
 
 Such unnumbered wrongs; her classmate's eminence; 
 
 The pangs of failure oft; the frequent " Nays." 
 
 When "Yes" is what we wanted? I won't stayl 
 
 E'en patience needeth not so severe a test; 
 
 With three words I might my quietus make : 
 
 ♦' Ma, I'm homesick." I can no longer bear 
 
 To grunt and sweat under this weary life, — 
 
 But stop! There's dread of something after school I 
 
 Can I forever stay with " Ma " and Pa? 
 
 Ah! no; if not a school-girl, then a wife! 
 
 I think I'd better bear the ills I have 
 
 Than fly to others that I know not of. 
 
 (1874). 
 
 COMPANIONSHIP IN MAREIAGE. 
 
 HAT does that mean?" say you. . It means 
 something with which I have rarely met — some- 
 thing of which I dreamed in girlhood — something for 
 which I expect to strive till death ends all my longings. 
 Why, you say, marriage necessarily implies compan- 
 ionship. Oh ! yes ; a certain degree of comi^anionship 
 is entailed by the marriage rite. The two, by force of 
 custom live in the same house, put their earnings into a 
 common treasury, expend these same earnings by mu- 
 tual consent, partake of the same kind of fare, and a 
 host of other things; but none of these is what I 
 mean. 
 
 The natural desire for companionship shows itself 
 in the earliest childhood. My little girl, not yet four, 
 
ESSAYS. 493 
 
 will cry for her little cousin to stay with her, and is 
 perfectly happy when this is allowed. At school, when 
 play-time comes, you'll see girls from the oldest to the 
 youngest, go off in arm-locked pairs. The same de- 
 sire impels the youth to choose some confidential chum 
 among his schoolmates. You'll hear him say, "If 
 John goes, I'll go; but if he can't go, I'll stay with 
 him." This feeling makes the presence of the chosen 
 companion essential to the full enjoyment of any good 
 thing ; or makes his absence always a source of regret. 
 You say, does not such feeling always exist between a 
 wedded pair? On the contrary, so far as I can judge, 
 it is the exception rather than the rule. Is the hus- 
 band a farmer? Necessity keeps him from his wife 
 all the working hours, and when his supper is eaten 
 his tired body must betake itself to rest. But watch 
 him when the working season is past, and hours of 
 leisure begin to come. What kind of recreation does 
 he seek? Something in which his wife can be with 
 him, thus showing he regrets so much of the year must 
 be spent apart from her? No; it's "Wife, neighbor 
 Jones and I are going off on a fishing spree this week. 
 I'll be back in time to harvest the grain. Black Jim 
 and the cook will be company for you." Rich com- 
 panionship indeed for a soul that thirsts for even one 
 hour's interchange of unencumbered thought with the 
 man whom she has chosen — the one to whom she has 
 united her life for that very purpose. Her lips may 
 utter no protest but her heart keeps saying, " Why 
 will he not give this little time to me? Have I become 
 
494 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 SO unlovely that my society is no longer worth court- 
 ing?" Wounded sorely, she looks for some panacea. 
 Sometimes it is found in gossiping with neighbor Jones' 
 wife who has a like pain gnawing at the chords which 
 should make the music of her life ; sometimes she finds 
 forgetf ulness in an exciting novel ; sometimes she ap- 
 peals through her pen to a world of sympathizers. 
 
 The merchant spends his evening hours at the club, 
 or with his face behind the newspaper which the cigar 
 in his mouth (to say nothing of the selfishness in his 
 heart) prevents his reading aloud, while the wife is 
 left to her own resources. 
 
 The lawyer — well of all his briefs the briefest is 
 the time he has for cultivating the acquaintance of his 
 wife. The doctor, poor harassed man, like the preacher, 
 belongs to the public. They are certainly the most 
 excusable classes, for they must extend their sympa- 
 thies over so wide a circle. How can they do more than 
 provide in a hasty fashion for the physical wants of 
 their families? But even the preacher needs an occa- 
 sional sermon to keep him right He often becomes 
 too fond of the duties which break in upon his home 
 ties. If some poor dying sister is not in need of com- 
 fort, then some rich brother wishes him to share a fine 
 repast. In either case the wife, tied at homg by ma- 
 ternal cares, gets only crumbs of attention. 
 
 Maybe you would like to know what is my ideal of 
 wedded companionship. "Well, I would purify the 
 physical communion which always exists by a larger 
 admixture of the intellectual and spiritual. I would 
 
ESSAYS. 495 
 
 have the husband leave the wife only when duty calls ; 
 when it is a mere matter of choice, I would see the 
 wife's society preferred to any other. Is there a new 
 book to be read? Let them read it together; or, if 
 that is impracticable, let one read it and tell the con- 
 tents to the other. Do not wait to discuss such things 
 with some one else to whom you wish to display your 
 learning. Is there some principle of morals or relig- 
 ion in regard to which the husband is in doubt ? Let 
 him ask his wife to consider it, instead of ignor- 
 ing her and flying for assistance to some brother divine. 
 Is the preacher burning with zeal to counsel the way- 
 ward ? Let him help his wife to overcome her faults 
 and not leave her to fight the battle of life alone ; 
 and let him ask in return that she help prune away that 
 which hinders his own true development. Does he 
 delio-ht to follow his Master in the work of consoling: 
 the afflicted? Let him not be blind to the fact that his 
 own wife needs consolation. 
 
 In short, I may not make myself clear, but I know 
 marriage, as a rule, does not furnish that companion- 
 ship which Christ meant when he said the man shall 
 cleave unto his wife. There is doubtless another side 
 to the question. It may sometimes be the wife who 
 fails to cultivate this companionship. If so, let some 
 good brother tell us wives wherein are our delinquen- 
 cies. If I were a preacher., I'd have this the subject 
 for every fourth sermon till the world is made to think 
 of it. It is more important than even the temperance 
 question, for intemperance grows out of neglecting 
 the wife's companionship. .(1881). 
 
496 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 "THE LORD GOODNESS!" 
 
 ^NE moraing about six weeks ago, I took a <' bus " 
 for the early train from Lexington to Frankfort. 
 My brother, my little girl, and myself were the only 
 occupants when we started, but on the next square we 
 picked up an old gentleman who had detained us 
 several minutes. 
 
 " Drive round by the Times office," was his hurried 
 direction to the driver, *'I've sent my boy around 
 there to get a package to take with me." 
 
 Soon the Times office was reached, and there stood 
 the boy on the pavement in front of the door. 
 *' Not open yet," said the boy, as the driver stopped. 
 ** The Lord goodness ! " exclaimed our white-haired 
 companion, as he descended to the pavement. 
 
 " Drive on, I shall have to wait, and maybe be too 
 late for the train." 
 
 I had thought his face seemed familiar when he first 
 joined us, and I had not ridden a square before 
 I recognized him as a preacher of the Gospel 
 I have heard him preach only one sermon, but 
 his writings are among my weekly readings. From 
 these two sources I am convinced that his mind 
 is well • stored with Bible knowledge. Can it be that 
 with all his knowledge, he has never learned the com- 
 mand, '•' Do not take the name of the Lord thy God in 
 vain ? ' ' But I have often been forced to ask this 
 
ESSAYS. 497 
 
 question in regard to otherwise excellent and cultivated 
 people. ' ' My Lord ! " or " O Lordy ! " is the favorite 
 by- word of many, who, like this aged brother, are 
 teachers of the Word. These good people would be 
 shocked at such oaths as fall from the lips of a regular 
 blasphemer; yet the most violent oath is more con- 
 sistent with the character of such a man than are the 
 former exclamations with the requisite purity of the 
 Christian. My little four-year-old caught this use of 
 the Lord's name from persons who profess to honor it. 
 I have had to punish her severely to break the evil 
 habit. She was talking about it just now, and she 
 says " Peoples mus'nt say the Lord and the God only 
 when they pray." I thank God for a Christian 
 mother from whose lips these words never fell except 
 in tones of deepest reverence. May my speech be as 
 chaste as hers ; as fit a model for my children to 
 imitate. 
 
 PURITY OF SPEECH. 
 
 "Keep your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking 
 guile." — Ps. xxxiv:13. 
 
 T our late Sunday-school Convention, while my 
 cheeks burnt with shame at an anecdote related 
 by one of the speakers, and laughed at by well nigh 
 the whole house, there occurred to ray mind the above 
 text. I never in my life heard a sermon on this sub- 
 
 32 
 
498 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 ject, yet it is an exhortation with which all classes 
 need to be impressed. In my girlhood, I remember 
 there were schoolmates whose glowing lips seemed 
 framed for utterance of only purest thoughts, yet from 
 those lips there often fell such words as I could not 
 recall without a blush. Strange to say, such girls were 
 always popular — their companionship sought by girls 
 who would not copy their expressions, perhaps, but 
 who would applaud and thus encourage the impurity 
 of speech. Often, too, those who first were pleased 
 listeners became copyists and rivals in the merchandise 
 of vulgar words, phrases and anecdotes. From this 
 contamination I was saved, in the main, by the example 
 and admonition of a pure-minded mother; but once 
 the desire to be " smart " got possession of me, and, 
 in presence of one of the " big girls," I used one of 
 her impure by-words. She turned upon me a look I 
 shall never forget, and said, — 
 
 " Why, Dora, I did not think that of you ! " 
 Never did I feel more deeply a rebuke. I saw that, 
 instead of elevating myself, I had fallen even in the esti- 
 mation of the girl whom I was trying to imitate. The 
 remembrance of my shame upon that occasion has 
 served as a restraint upon all my subsequent life. 
 
 Now, it seems to me a preacher should be in all 
 things an example to all other men. The. vilest man, 
 when in the presence of a preacher, instinctively keeps 
 his lips from speaking guile, and, of course, he expects 
 purity to characterize all the preacher says. If the 
 preacher, on the contrary, degrades himself by indulg- 
 
ESSAYS. 499 
 
 ing in anecdotes which must minister to the lower 
 nature, it awakens in his listener just such a feeling as 
 my schoolmate expressed toward me — a feeling of 
 surprise, of disappointment, of disgust. The tempta- 
 tion comes to the preacher just as it did to me. The 
 love of applause is born in us every one, and it will 
 never die; for we will long for it, most of all, in that 
 great day when He who is the source of all purity will 
 judge us by our words. At a big convention every 
 body wants to make the biggest speech. Some natur- 
 ally witty man gains favor by his timely hits, so that 
 his appearance on the floor is but a signal for a smile 
 of pleased anticipation to brighten every face. A 
 brother preacher feels, " Pshaw ! if I had a chance, I 
 could get up a greater sensation than that fellow who 
 thinks himself so sharp." The chance comes, and an 
 anecdote — no new, untried afiair, but one whose effi- 
 cacy has more than once been tested — is the result. 
 Amid the consequent laughter, the grieved surprise, 
 the disappointment and disgust escape the speaker's 
 notice ; no one does for him what my candid school- 
 mate did for me, and he is left to repeat his mistake 
 wherever he can again make that anecdote to fit. 
 
 Now, perhaps some one will say, " While preaching 
 one text you violate another — you are judging your 
 brother." I only attribute to him a weakness long 
 since discovered in myself — a discovery for which I 
 thank that schoolmate of childhood days. 
 
 (1882.) 
 
500 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 ESSAY READ IN LITERARY SOCIETY. 
 
 elocution. 
 
 April 4, 1884. 
 
 ,HE older members of this society may remember 
 that, from time to time, in presence of this body, 
 I have read a series of essays on the Fine Arts. 
 Among all these essays I have never written one on 
 the subject of Elocution, though it, more perhaps 
 than any of its sister arts, tends to beautify, refine, 
 and ennoble the life. I think there is no better way to 
 define this art, or science, than by presenting it in the 
 person of James E. Murdoch, its .greatest living rep- 
 resentative. My life has been so full of to-day's 
 activities as to leave little time for the indulgence of 
 dreams, yet a few have I cherished. One of these was 
 realized on the evening of March 31st, and the realiz- 
 ation was in this wise. 
 
 At eight p. m. I found myself the occupant of a 
 favorable seat in the parquette of the Lexington Opera 
 House. On my left were the Hamilton girls, to be 
 recognized by their fur caps, gray cloaks, and black 
 dresses, together with the well known school girl look 
 of caged impetuosity; on my right, were as many 
 University boys, whose ranks, unbroken by a single 
 fairer face, looked a loneliness responsive to that of 
 the other group ; in the rear were professors, lawyers, 
 doctors, preachers, and their wives; in short, a goodly 
 
ESSAYS. 501 
 
 number of Lexington's most cultivated citizens. The 
 gallery was but little occupied, for there were no cheap 
 tickets, and the small boy had been warned that if 
 he should dare to whistle, hiss, or otherwise disturb the 
 audience, he would be taken out — so he didn't come. 
 
 But a subdued clapping of hands called attention to 
 the stage on which now appeared President Loos, ac- 
 companied by a venerable man, laden with what looked 
 like a pile of sheet music. In a few well chosen words, 
 President Loos introduced to the audience, " James E. 
 Murdoch, the acknowledged master of the art of 
 Elocution, to whose instruction and example the best 
 actors of the day owe all their reputation." At the 
 close of these remarks Mr. M. came forward with 
 a short bow, and began instantly to arrange the book- 
 rest and lamp, adjusting both to his eye. From the 
 package which he had deposited on a chair beside him, 
 he now drew one folio, which proved to be, not sheet 
 music, but bunches of manuscript, containing his 
 various selections with intervening comments. 
 
 His first utterance dispelled the fear that age had 
 enfeebled the voice which has so often held spell- 
 bound the peoples of our own and of trans-Atlantic 
 cities. 
 
 "I shall read first," he said, "from the thirty- 
 eighth and thirty-ninth of Job." 
 
 This he said as simply as if he were a preacher read- 
 ins: from his accustomed desk. His tone and manner 
 were in such harmon}^ with the awe and reverence 
 expressed in the words, that in these sentiments the 
 
502 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 reader was forgotten. In striking contrast with this 
 was the next selection, " The Prodigal Son." This 
 being a simple narrative, was read in a simple, conver- 
 sational style, and I doubt not, every Bible student 
 present was making the mental comment : — 
 
 "That's nothing wonderful ; I could do that well 
 myself ; ' ' yet in its simplicity was its excellence. 
 
 Next came a poem by T. Buchanan Reid, entitled 
 " Drifting." I had never heard it before, and happy 
 is the poet who may be introduced to the public by 
 such a master of rhythm as is James E. Murdoch. 
 " Drifting " expresses the longing of its composer for 
 the sight once more of the Bay of Naples, or, as he terms 
 it, the Vesuvian Bay, and so full does he become of, 
 his theme that he imagines himself dreamily drifting 
 over the gently swelling waters, and the hearer, 
 rocked by the regular meters so beautifully brought 
 out by the reader, falls into a trance of kindred 
 nature, till one sees again the far away Italian sky, 
 the rising, fleecy vapor of Vesuvius, the crescent city, 
 and the sail-be-dotted bay. 
 
 We come now to Hamlet, the part in which Mr. Mur- 
 dock has so often been the star. It is the. tragic in 
 which Mr. M. most delights. He throws in enough of 
 the lighter compositions to simply relieve the audience. 
 He began with the soliloquy in which Hamlet gives 
 vent to his disgust at the indecent haste of his mother's 
 second marriage; gave next the closet scene in which 
 he makes his mother see her own moral hideousness, 
 and during which he kills old Polonius, mistaking him 
 
ESSAYS. 503 
 
 for the king. The expression of his face when he is 
 interrupted by the ghost, is beyond description, full, 
 at once of terror at the supernatural, reverence for his 
 father's image, and dread of the father's reproof for 
 his own indecision. 
 
 Here he stopped to make a few comments. 
 
 " In this play," he said, " we have two extremes of 
 character and also their happy mean, in the persons of 
 Hamlet, Laertes and Horatio. Gloomy Hamlet is all 
 thought, no action ; impulsive Laertes is all action, no 
 thought ; but calm Horatio's every act is prompted by 
 reflection." 
 
 Hamlet's words to Horatio express this opinion 
 of the latter, and show how the gloomy, rest- 
 less nature delights to stay itself by friendship with 
 one of cheerful sturdiness. In the familiar soliloquy 
 on committing suicide, Murdoch's tone and air of 
 deep abstraction were inimitable. It seemed to me 
 those words : — 
 
 " To be, or not to be? that is the question," were 
 never before so full of meaning. The scene at the 
 grave of Ophelia was the closing selection of the play, 
 and here the pronounced madness of Hamlet was no 
 less truly rendered than were all the other char- 
 acteristics. 
 
 I forgot to mention one episode in the early part of 
 the programme, namely, the withdrawal of Mr. M. to 
 the dressing-room to get his overcoat which the chilli- 
 ness of the room rendered necessary. As he turned to 
 walk across the stage I noticed for the first time, that 
 
504 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 his fine form is somewhat bent by age, and that the 
 hand of time has brushed to scantiness his once luxu- 
 riant locks. But in the personations of Hamlet, his 
 perfect absorption in the character lends his face the 
 glow of youth, and you can imagine yourself in pres- 
 ence of the veritable Prince of DenmarJi. 
 
 It was now time for something humorous to relieve 
 his rapt listeners, so he gave us next the exploits of 
 one Tom King, in former days a noted player of 
 pranks in the city of London. It was upon a French- 
 man Tom played the trick of ringing his bell at two 
 o'clock at night, and when the poor man, yawning, 
 and bowing came to the door, Tom pretended he only 
 wished to know if a certain Mr. Thomas lived in that 
 house. Politely, but with interrupting yawns, the 
 Frenchman answered. 
 
 *' No, monsieur, no Mr. Thomas here.' 
 
 The next night at the same hour, Tom comes again, 
 and this time, surprise renders less smoothly polished 
 the Frenchman's reply. In short, Tom repeats the 
 trick, night after night, till finally in rage the victim 
 becomes unable to control his language into its ac- 
 customed even channels, and it is marvelous how 
 the varying shades of surprise, anger, desperation, 
 and final terror take possession of the tormented 
 Frenchman. 
 
 Time fails me to tell in detail of the two remaining 
 readings, the one the poem of " Virginia," by Macau- 
 ley, the other an extract from *' Pickwick." Suffice it 
 
COREESPONDENCE. 505 
 
 to say, in whatever character Mr. M. appeared, in that 
 he seemed most at home, and the secret of it all was 
 his fidelity to nature. To have heard him is an event 
 in one's life, and my experience of that Monday eve- 
 ning is one of those things of which it may be said, 
 *'A thing of beauty is a joy forever." 
 
 A MEMORABLE COREESPONDENCE. 
 
 Excelsior Institute, March 8, 1880. 
 Prof. H. W. Longfellow: 
 
 J^S EAR SIR — Compared with the aggregate of praise 
 (c^T^ heaped upon you by an admiring nation,! know 
 any single tribute must be counted an infinitesimal ; 
 but I wish to tell you that the enthusiasm of the 
 27th reached beyond the confines of the larger cities. 
 Five miles south of Kentucky's capital, there has been 
 chartered, by the present Legislature, a school under 
 the name of Excelsior Collegiate Institute. Within 
 the walls of this institution, on the 27th of February, 
 there were several hours devoted to reading, reciting 
 and singing the choicest tracings of your inspired pen. 
 The aim was to fill young hearts with pure thoughts, 
 such as gleam from every page of " Evangeline," from 
 every line of " Resignation," from every word of the 
 "Builders." 
 
506 FIKESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 When the celebration was first proposed, one young 
 man of the vicinity asked, — 
 
 " Why does Mrs. S. wish to keep the birthday of a 
 horse? " 
 
 You may have heard of the noted Kentucky racer 
 which bears your name, and hence understand the 
 youth's mistake. I propose holding annually this 
 birthday festival, and hope through this medium, the 
 young of the community . may become more familiar 
 with literature, and less absorbed in blooded horses. 
 
 We are just beginning to ascend the heights with 
 that ' ' banner of the strange device ; ' ' the way is steep 
 and long ; will you send a word of cheer to my band 
 of "Alpine Climbers? " 
 
 Yours with much deference, 
 
 E. L. South. 
 
 the reply. 
 
 Cambridge, March 11, 1880. 
 
 Dear Madam: 
 
 2^ 
 
 AM much obliged to you for your letter, and for 
 (^ the honor paid me by your institute on the 27th 
 of February, my birthday. 
 
 The anecdote of the gallant race horse, bearing my 
 name, is very amusing. I hope you did not undeceive 
 the young man, but left him to his pleasant delusion. 
 Perhaps he thought that as Pindar had celebrated the 
 Olympic and Pythiau horse races, you and your pupils 
 
ESSAYS. 507 
 
 were going to do something of the same kind. You 
 might have told him, that this famous steed, with 
 wings on his feet, instead of his shoulders, was a kind 
 of Pegassus ; which would have doubtless increased his 
 confusion of ideas. 
 
 But the story is a good one as it stands, and needs 
 no improvement. Thanking you and your pupils for 
 your kind remembrance, and your manner of showing 
 it, I am dear madam, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Henet W. Longfellow. 
 
508 riKESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 HOPE. 
 FROM THE GERMAN OP SCHILLER. 
 
 Forever and ever the people say, 
 
 "To-morrow will find us better; 
 Let's tear ourselves from a joyless to-day, 
 
 Let's break its torturing fetter! " 
 The world grows old, and again grows young, 
 But ever is joy on to-morrow hung. 
 
 'Tis Hope that leads us along thro' life : 
 E'en in childhood her footsteps we follow; 
 
 She lures the stripling to constant strife ; 
 Age invokes her in accents hollow. 
 
 When we end in the grave life's weary race. 
 
 On our tombstones even Hope leaves her trace. 
 
 She is no spectral, delusive shade, . 
 
 No lunatic's fantasy shifting; 
 Each by her guidance is better made, 
 
 Her touch every burden uplifting. 
 The gladsome tones of her inner voice 
 Ever are bidding the soul rejoice. 
 
 (1881). 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 In passing through Germany an American is always 
 impressed by the servile condition of woman. Her 
 head seems made for no better purpose than to bear 
 the weight of huge baskets ; humbly she trudges along 
 in harness with a dog or a donkey, drawing a cart laden 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 509 
 
 with milk and vegetables. To think of poetry in con- 
 nection with such servitude, seems incongruous; so I 
 was much struck by the following poem, whose origi- 
 nal was encountered among a collection of Schiller's 
 shorter poems : — 
 
 Honor to woman, for ever she's twining 
 Eoses celestial midst earthly repining, 
 
 Wreathing each garland with love's silken band; 
 Modestly veiling the grace she's bestowing, 
 Fires of pure feeling she keeps ever glowing, 
 
 Tending them daily with holiest hand. 
 
 Out of truth's sure pathway dashing, 
 
 Eushes man with maddening force; 
 Thoughts unsteady, by their lashing, 
 
 Urge o'er passion's sea his course. 
 Eager grasps he in the distance — 
 
 Never stilled his longing heart — - 
 Through the stars without resistance 
 
 Him impels each phantom's art. 
 
 Woman, with tenderest glances recallinjf, 
 Eescues the wanderer, hinders his falling. 
 
 Luring him back in her presence to rest. 
 Nature, her mother, affords her protection — 
 rills her pure soul with contented affection, 
 
 Blessing this daughter — her truest and best. 
 
 Fiend-like man is endless striving, 
 
 With destructive envy's power, 
 Wildly through his lifetime driving, 
 
 Finding rest — no not an hour — 
 What he does at once destroying, 
 
 Constant to his love of strife, 
 Hydra-like his strength employing 
 
 To renew its failing life. 
 
510 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Woman, delighted in narrowest bowers, 
 
 Culls from each moment its choicest of flowers. 
 
 Lovingly gives them her tenderest care ; 
 Freer tho' bounded by limits confining, 
 Kicher than man in true wisdom's divining, 
 
 Kicher in Poesy's heritage fair. 
 
 Strong and proud, on self relying, 
 
 Naught of feeling stirs man's soul; 
 Every tender thought defying 
 
 Naught he knows of love's control — 
 Never knows the heart's deep anguish, 
 
 Never melts in tears of pain; 
 All the soft emotion's languish. 
 
 Hindered by his strugglings vain. 
 
 Look tho' how lightly, by zephyrs e'en shaken, 
 Quick the ^olian harp will awaken : 
 
 Such is the soul to her womanhood true ; 
 Grief to her vision, tho' faintly depicted, 
 Wells up a fountain of love unrestricted. 
 
 Pearling the eyes with a heavenly dew. 
 
 In the field of man's contention 
 
 Might succeeds instead of right 
 Scythia's sword, by intervention, 
 
 Turns the Persian host to flight; 
 Passions wild and rude controlling 
 
 Wars declare and deadly wage,. 
 High the waves of Discord rolling 
 
 Till calm waters seethe with rage. 
 
 ■But with the gentlest of tones, full of pleading, 
 Woman for mercy and peace interceding. 
 
 Heals the dissension which death could not heal; 
 Hatred from f oemen her touch soon effacing. 
 
 Love thus induced, unites with embracing 
 Those that before, naught but hatred could feel. 
 
 (1881). 
 
TRANSLATIONS . .511 
 
 LONGING. 
 FEOM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. 
 
 Ah ! from out this vale of sorrow, 
 
 Where the chilling mists oppress, 
 Could I, on some bright to-morrow. 
 
 Upward rise where pleasures bless 1 
 . See those hills all clad in beauty, 
 
 Ever gladdening to the sight ! 
 Could I break the chain of duty, 
 
 Toward those hills I'd take my flight. 
 
 Tones melodious hear I ringing — 
 
 Tones of sweetest heavenly peace, 
 And the sportive winds are bringing 
 
 Balmy scents that never cease. 
 Golden fruits I see all glowing, 
 
 Glancing 'tween the darksome leaves, 
 Flowers there forever blowing 
 
 Dread no low'ring wintry eves. 
 
 There the daytime ever pleases. 
 
 For the sun gives endless light. 
 And refreshing May-day breezes 
 
 Visit us from every height. 
 But the stream of Death restraining, 
 
 EoUs its water dark between, 
 And my soul in fear refraining, 
 
 Dares not venture on the scene. 
 
 1881). 
 
 THE DIVISION OF THE EAETH. 
 
 TRANSLATED PROM SCHILLER. 
 
 "Take now the earth," cried Jove from highest heaven 
 To man below. " It is henceforth your own; 
 
 To you and yours in endless lease 'tis given; 
 Like brethren, now, divide my loan." 
 
512 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Then hasted each to claim the part assigned; 
 
 Full busy with his lot both young and old: — 
 His sheaves the tiller of the soil entwined; 
 
 Thro' wood and glen sped hunter bold; 
 
 The tradesman rich with goods his warehouse stored; 
 
 With care the abbot pressed his mountain wine; 
 The king stretched bridges where the torrents roared, 
 
 And said, " I claim the toll for mine." 
 
 Long after all these earthly goods were parted, 
 Appeared the poet, tardy, on the scene ; 
 
 Oh! luckless, dreamy mortal, broken-hearted, 
 There's nothing left for you, I ween. 
 
 " Woe! woe is me I " he cried, to Jove complaining, 
 "Forgotten, tho' thy most devoted son! " 
 
 "Hold! " answered Jove, his bitter words restraining, 
 "How has it chanced this thing was done? " 
 
 " While in your dream-land you have idly slumbered, 
 
 The god your gift misplaced ; but blame not me — 
 Say, where were you when each his portion numbered? " 
 "I was," the poet said, " by thee." 
 
 " Thy face, celestial fair, mine eyes beholding, 
 
 The harmonies of heaven in mine ear, 
 My spirit after holy patterns molding 
 
 For earthly things I felt no fear." 
 
 "My son," said Jove, "the earth away is given. 
 Its fruits, its chase, its marts are mine no more; 
 
 Can you, content, beside me dwell in heaven? 
 Come when you will, you'll find an open door." 
 
 (1881). 
 
 STABAT MATER DOLOROSA. 
 
 FKOM THE LATEST OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTUBT. 
 
 Stood the Mother, mourning, crying, 
 Near the Cross, whereon, now dying, 
 Hung her much beloved Son; 
 
TEANSLATIONS. 513 
 
 Through her spirit agonizing, 
 All her soul in grief baptizing, 
 Pierced the sword her honor won, 
 
 Ohl how deeply then distressed 
 Was the Holy Mother, blessed 
 
 Of the one begotten Son, 
 Seized with trembling and lamenting. 
 "With an anguish near dementing. 
 
 Gazed she on the Noble One. 
 
 Who's the man from tears refraining 
 Sees the Mother, uncomplaining. 
 
 Bow beneath the scourging rod? 
 Who so hard, unsympathizing. 
 Sees her bear this sore chastising, 
 
 Suffering with the Son of God? 
 
 For this sinful race enduring 
 Torments, thus their peace securing, 
 
 Sees she Jesus tortured there — 
 Sees her darling Son expiring. 
 Desolate from earth retiring. 
 
 Yield His spirit to the air. 
 
 Eount of love, oh! let me borrow 
 From thy depths a kindred sorrow. 
 
 Let me, Mother, mourn with thee ; 
 Let my heart, all coldness spurning, 
 With the love of Christ be burning — 
 
 Then well pleased he'll look on me. 
 
 Pierce my heart, O Holy Mother, 
 With the wounds of Christ, the Brother 
 
 That for me was crucified ; 
 Worthy of my love unbounded 
 Is that Son for me so wounded — 
 
 With me all His pains divide. 
 
 Make me weep with thee condoling. 
 For thy loss thy heart consoling, 
 Till these tears my soul revive ; 
 98 
 
514 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Near the Cross with thee abiding, 
 To me all thy griefs confiding, 
 Make me weep beyond control. 
 
 Thou all virgins else excelling. 
 Greet me not with looks repelling — 
 
 Let me with thee moan and wail; 
 Make me, still Christ's passion sharing, 
 Always round His death be bearing, 
 
 That His wounds may much avail. 
 
 Make my soul intoxicated 
 With a love alone created 
 
 By the Holy Cross, I pray. 
 Ardent made by grace extended. 
 May I, Virgin, be defended 
 
 By thee in the Judgment Day. 
 
 Saved because the Christ hath perished, 
 By His grace forever cherished. 
 
 Be the Cross my constant shield; 
 When, at length, this body dieth, 
 When 'mid dust of earth it lieth, 
 
 To thy charge this soul I'll yield. 
 
 (1882). 
 
 THE VIRGIN MOTHER. 
 
 The following is a translation from a Latin poem 
 of the thirteenth century, a companion piece to " Sta- 
 bat Mater Dolorosa." While the one celebrates the 
 "Woes of Mary," the other portrays her "Joys." 
 The latter seems to be a kind of parody of the 
 former : — 
 
 Stood the mother, vigil keeping 
 Where her mangered babe lay sleeping. 
 Beauteous in his sweet repose ; 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 515 
 
 Joy her bosom permeated, 
 Hope her spirits high elated, 
 Boding naught of future woes. 
 
 How absorbing the emotion 
 Of the mother's pure devotion 
 
 To the one begotten Son! 
 How with joy and exultation, 
 Eull of holiest adoration, 
 
 Gazed she on the Noble One. 
 
 Where's the man could see Christ's mother 
 Thus rejoicing, yet could smother 
 
 Promptings to a kindred joy? 
 Who is there with soul phlegmatic 
 Views her now in joys ecstatic, 
 
 Playing with her Infant boy? 
 
 For the sins of man made lowly, 
 Sees she Christ, an infant holy, 
 
 'Mid the beasts of burden laid ; 
 With the cold she sees him crying, 
 Yet adores him, helpless lying 
 
 Where his humble bed she made. 
 
 "Born is Christ within a mangerl " 
 Sing the angels o'er the stranger, 
 
 With a heavenly joy intense — 
 Stood the old men then enraptured, 
 Ear of maid the sound encaptured, 
 
 Pilling all with mute suspense. 
 
 Mother, font of love eternal, 
 
 Let me share that joy supernal- 
 Pill me with its ardent glow! 
 
 Make my heart with joy up-welling, 
 
 On Christ's love forever dwelling. 
 Daily in His favor grow. 
 
 Mother, grant me this petition. 
 To receive by thy transmission 
 Wounds of Christ within my heart; 
 
516 riRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 With thy Son from Heaven descended, 
 By so many griefs attended, 
 Let me bear an equal part. 
 
 May I, by thy Son protected, 
 By the word of God elected, 
 
 Be redeemed through pardoning grace. 
 Though to dust this body moulder, 
 Let my soul, an awed beholder, 
 
 Gaze upon His glorious face. 
 
 Evening came, then morn unbidden^ 
 
 Never, never stood I still. 
 Yet remained forever hidden 
 
 What I sought and longed for still. 
 
 (1828). 
 
 THE PILGKIM. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHrLLER. 
 
 Still my life its spring was spending, 
 
 When I forth a wanderer went; 
 But my youth, its dance soon ending, 
 
 Lost the joy its home-life lent. 
 
 All my portion I rejected, 
 
 Trusting threw it all away. 
 And, my pilgrim staff selected, 
 
 Forth I went from home astray. 
 
 Then a mighty hope upheld me. 
 
 And a mystic Faith which said, 
 ** Onward, ever! " and impelled mo 
 
 Toward an opening just ahead. 
 
 Till, at last, a golden portal 
 
 I should reach, and enter in; . 
 
 Then the earthly made immortal, i 
 
 I the pilgrim's goal should win. ■■ 
 
 1 
 
TEANSLATIONS. 517 
 
 Mountains then my way encumbered, 
 
 Streams restrained my eager feet, 
 Bridges built I, then, unnumbered 
 
 Over gorge and river fleet. 
 
 Last I reached a stream whose flowing 
 
 Beckoned toward the rising sun; 
 On its tide myself then throwing , 
 
 Soon its quiet course I'd run. 
 
 To the ocean vast it bore me, 
 
 By its water's gentle play; 
 But the space stretched out before mo. 
 
 Showed no goal to end my way. 
 
 And no bridge can lead me ever 
 Where the Heaven which seems soneaTi 
 
 Joins the earth, for never, never, 
 Place of rest finds pilgrim here. 
 
 (1882). 
 
 DIES IRAU. 
 
 TRANSLATED TEOM THE LATIN OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Day of wrath — that day dissolving. 
 All the worlds in space revolving, 
 David's word from doubt absolving, 
 
 Soon thy trumpet widely sounding. 
 Through sepulchral vaults resounding, 
 I'orth shall call Death's hosts abounding. 
 
 Nature's self that sound surprising, 
 Sees, transfixed, the dead uprising, 
 God His Power thus exercising. 
 
 Then the Book of Life, containing 
 Sins unpardoned yet remaining, 
 Shall convict those Christ disdaining. 
 
518 FIEESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Por the Judge All-wise, perceiving 
 Hidden sins His Spirit grieving, 
 Shall condemn beyond reprieving, 
 
 Scarce the righteous aught demanding, 
 Where shaU wretched I be standing? 
 What of patronage commanding? 
 
 King Majestic, awe-inspiring. 
 Thou who savest by grace untiring, 
 Save me, is my prayer expiring. 
 
 For the sake, O Christ forgiving. 
 Of the pangs endured while living, 
 Save me, then, full pardon giving. 
 
 Weary hast thou grown, me seeking, 
 From thy cross redemption speaking: 
 ShaU it be in vain — this seeking? 
 
 Thou who hast poor Mary pardoned, 
 And the thief in sin so hardened, 
 WUi thou me yet leave unpardoned? 
 
 Midst thy sheep a station granting, 
 From the goats my soul transplanting, 
 Save me, all thy wrath recanting. 
 
 (1882). 
 
 THE BROOKLET. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHB. 
 
 O Brooklet, silver bright and clear. 
 Why haste you ever past me here? 
 Upon thy bank I stand and ask, 
 "Your coming whence? Where ends your task? ** 
 
 From lap of darksome rock I toss. 
 My course I take o'er flower and moss; 
 Within my mirror clear and bright, 
 Tou see reflected Heaven's light. 
 
TEANSLATIONS. 519 
 
 My joyous spirit, free from care, 
 Me onward drives, I know not where; 
 He who has called me from the stone 
 Will be my guide, nor leave me lone. 
 
 (1882.) 
 
 SAYINGS OF CONEUCIUS. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. 
 
 Threefold is the step-of time: 
 Laggard Future patience wasteth; 
 Arrow-like the Present hasteth; 
 Void of motion stands the Past sublime. 
 
 No impatience dught can quicken 
 Step of first, which -will delay; 
 Tho' a fear or doubt may sicken. 
 Not for this the Now will stay ; 
 No repentance, tho' unshaken 
 Can the Past to change awaken. 
 
 Would you, happy, blest, and wise, 
 End this life with fewest sighs? 
 Heed the Laggard not, who sayeth, 
 "Time I give him who delayeth; " 
 Choose not first the fleeting Present, 
 Make the Past no foe unpleasant. 
 
 CI 883.) 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS AND OEIGINAL POEMS. 
 
 SNOWDRIFTS. 
 Beautiful snowdrifts, so spotlessly white, 
 Brightly ye sparkle like mountains of light. 
 Glittering sunbeams fly swift to your crests. 
 Fondly ye fold them with joy to your breasts; 
 Dreaming no evil ye slumber in bliss. 
 Gladly returning their every kiss. 
 
520 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Piercingly bright, in your bosoms tbey creep, 
 
 Arrow-like entering silent and deep — 
 
 Treacherous rays 1 through your heartstrings they wind, 
 
 Source of your loveliness searching to find, 
 
 Envious e'en of the crystals whose glow 
 
 Crowns you with beauty, ye queens of the snow. 
 
 Innocent, joyous, you greet each caress 
 Glowing anew with the warmth they express; 
 Soon will they flee the embrace of your arms. 
 Leaving you shrunken, bereft of all charms ; — 
 Loveliness fled ! Ah! how deep we deplore. 
 Queens crowned with beauty we'll call you no more. 
 
 Purity, thus, in her garments of snow, 
 Flattered by notice the evil bestow, 
 Oft their advances will greet with delight, 
 Till, all polluted — ohi piteous sight! 
 Eobes once so fair all bedraggled in mire 
 Bear no resemblance to Virtue's attire. 
 
 (1867). 
 
 TEIUMPH OF FAITH. 
 
 The clouds are weeping while I weep, 
 The rain-drops mingle with my tears ; 
 
 The wind is wailing, while I sigh 
 O'er thought of bright and by-gone years. 
 
 The sky is, like my soul, in clouds, 
 A gloom as deep o'er each is spread; 
 But weeping gives us each relief. 
 So we our tears and rain-drops shed. 
 
 My spirit, like the murmuring wind, 
 Breathes out a low and sad refrain; 
 But sighs from bursting keep my heartj 
 Its throbbings, sighs, in part restrain. 
 
 it * * *l * * H 
 
POEMS. 521 
 
 Bat now a light refulgent breaks, 
 The clouds of gloom asunder part, 
 A gentle hand wipes 'way my tears, 
 A voice of love soothes aching heart. 
 
 The clouds still weep, but every drop 
 Is now with brilliant hues aglow; 
 The sun shines out from rifted clouds, 
 Wide spreads his wings the radiant bow. 
 
 And now " His Promise " I recall. 
 The Savior mildly whispers "Peace," 
 And now the tears of gladness fall, 
 Tor He from care can grant release. 
 
 (1869). 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 If there's aught in life's that's bitter, 
 
 If there's aught demands a tear, 
 Seems to me there's nothing fitter 
 
 Than the thought " There's no one near, 
 Who my work can rightly measure. 
 
 Who my heart can rightly cheer." 
 
 Many times, alas I this feeling 
 
 O'er me casts a shadow chill; 
 Many times the thought comes stealing, 
 
 " Ohl for one this void to fill! " 
 
 Can it be the Lord intended 
 
 Ne'er my heart this joy should thrill? 
 ******** 
 
 Pardon, Lord, the thought, oh! pardon. 
 
 Is there no one feels my care? 
 One there is no chance can harden; 
 
 One there is all aches can share — 
 *Tls the heart of Jesus Blessed — 
 
 Let me tell him all in prayer. 
 
 (1880). 
 
522 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 THE SACRED FEAST. 
 
 Break the loaf with trembling finger; 
 Round the Cross let memory linger. 
 O, my soul, with deep emotion, 
 View the proof of Christ's devotion. 
 
 Drink the cup with feelings saddened; 
 Drink it, too, with spirit gladdened; — 
 Sad, because the Lord hath sorrowed. 
 Glad, because of hope thus borrowed. 
 
 Dare you smile? Be very careful 
 
 That your thoughts are deeply prayerful; — 
 
 Pray, because of sins committed, 
 
 Pray that these may be remitted. 
 
 By this bond of holy union 
 Hold with Christ a sweet communion; 
 Do not break the tie asunder. 
 Which e'en makes the angels wonder. 
 
 (1880). 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 Oh! that I could perfect be, 
 Holy Father, like to Thee ; 
 Every weakness I deplore. 
 Erring yet forevermore. 
 
 Weary of myself I've grown, — 
 Can I, Lord, e'er be thine own? 
 'Less thy spirit in me bide. 
 Thine I'm not, these faults to hide. 
 
 Hateful am I to my sight; 
 Help me, Lord, to do the right. 
 Something ever clogs my will, 
 When I world rise yet higher stUl. 
 
 i 
 
POEMS. 523 
 
 In tliy Word a mirror true, 
 All my sinfulness I view; 
 From the loathed sight I turn, 
 For a purer life I yearn. 
 
 TOO LATE. 
 
 A SCEAP. 
 
 Know the hour is coming soon, 
 In the morning, night, or noon, 
 When our hands shall folded lie, ' 
 When we've breathed our latest sigh: 
 Then, too late, we'll learn the need 
 Of each now neglected deed. 
 
 WHY DO I TEACH SCHOOL? 
 
 Why do I teach from day to day. 
 Wearing my youth and life away? 
 Toiling from morning's dawn till night, 
 Wasting never a moment of light? 
 To deck myself with jewels and lace? 
 With dainties rare my board to grace? 
 
 But poor reward such paltry things 
 For all the labor teaching brings ; 
 For all the frowns and 'plaining tones, 
 'Neath which the teacher's spirit groans; 
 For all the self-denying tasks 
 Her daily duty ever asks. 
 
 To break and sow the mental soil 
 Is harder e'en than farmer's toil; 
 But richer, too, the fruit it yields 
 Than wealth of all the farmer's fields; 
 The seeds of Truth the teacher sows 
 Whence every noble action grows. 
 
524 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Nor can this work e'er come to naught, 
 Tho' oft with disappointments fraught; 
 If not by time on earth matured 
 Their further growth is yet insured, 
 The warmth of Heaven's eternal sun 
 Perfecting what on earth's begun. 
 
 (1880). 
 
 " ULTRA ALPES EST ITALIA.»' » 
 
 Beyond the Alps is Italy. 
 
 Long ago, in annals hoary — 
 
 Writ in Latin is the story — 
 
 Hannibal from Carthage olden 
 
 Longed for Eome with treasures golden, 
 
 Moved by wrath since childhood cherished 
 
 Planted then by sire now perished. 
 
 Dreams were haunted by a vision, 
 Brighter far than fields Elysian; 
 Dreams of vengeance deep and direful, 
 Ped his spirit ever ireful; 
 Why not seek those wished-for valleys, 
 With the force which round him rallies? 
 
 Ever watchful is the Eoman, 
 Ever ready for his f oeman, 
 Should he come by southern border 
 Which was truly Nature's order; 
 Northward needs must Carthage enter, 
 Would he reach the Roman center. 
 
 Marches dreary, long, and trying. 
 Bring the soldiers faint and dying. 
 Where the crests of Alpine mountains 
 Hide from view Rome's sparkling fountains, 
 Change to frowns the landscape's smiling. 
 Heights on heights in vastness piling. 
 
 1 Motto of Literary Society at Excelsior Institute. 
 
 \ 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 525 
 
 " Ultra Alpes est Italia^''* 
 Sounds the hero's bold reveille, 
 Hope, awaked by tones entrancing, 
 Echoes back from pulses dancing; 
 Upward push the host invading, 
 Nevermore their chief upbraiding. 
 
 'Yond the Alps Italia lieth, 
 
 Where the sunshine never dieth, — 
 
 These the words which wrought like magic 
 
 Eescued men from f alterings tragic ; 
 
 These the words, with care unstinted, 
 
 On our hearts we've all imprinted. 
 
 Eicher e'en than Eoman coffers 
 Is the treasure learning offers; 
 Heights than Alpine still more trying 
 in the learner's path are lying; 
 Scale them, though, despite their frowning 
 Eich reward each efEort crowning. 
 [From the New England Journal of Education, Sept. 9, 1880 
 
 IN MEMOEIAM. 
 
 Elijah E. Lindsay. —Died November 4th, at the residence of 
 Dr. V. T. Lindsay, in Springfield, Illinois, Elijah E. Lindsay, son 
 of Nicholas and Martha A. Lindsay. 
 
 Our brother Elijah was born December 10, 1854, 
 near Napoleon, Gallatin County, Kentucky, and 
 became a Christian at the age of seventeen. It was 
 under the calm inspiration of duty he went forward to 
 confess Christ before the congregation at Sugar Creek ; 
 calmly he submitted to baptism in the waters of the 
 Ohio ; all the rest of his brief life was in harmony 
 
526 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 with that confession and obedience. "Wherever he 
 went he became known as a Christian, throwing off his 
 natural timidity that he might speak a word for Jesus. 
 His remarks were always simple, and his voice in 
 prayer broken by embarrassment, but the rare purity 
 of his life made every sentence impressive. 
 
 He is the first of us eight children on whom Death 
 has laid his hand, though the .youngest is almost 
 grown. Mother says she had hoped we might all live 
 to put her and father in their last resting-place, and 
 well might she wish such tender hand as his to smooth 
 her dying brow, or such loving heart to sympathize 
 with her in suffering. His own character had been 
 ripened by trial, for an illness of three years' duration 
 hindered him in pursuit of his profession. It was only 
 last March he received his degree from the Hospital 
 College, Louisville, and a few weeks afterward he 
 began practice in Curran, Illinois. 
 
 That terrible malady, typhoid fever, attacked him 
 far from his mother's home, but he came to Springfield 
 where he was tenderly nursed by his two brothers and 
 dear sister Kate. Mother went to him as soon as pos- 
 sible, but arrived barely in time to see him die. He 
 was buried November 5th, in Oak Ridge Cemetery, 
 near the Lincoln Monument. 
 
 In Springfield's city of the dead, 
 At rest wltliin its narrow bed, 
 
 Tlie dust of Lincoln lies ; 
 A marble shaft the story tells 
 What sacred relic 'neath it dwells — 
 
 How all this relic prize. 
 
POEMS. 527 
 
 Each day the green surrounding sod 
 By lingering footsteps light is trod; 
 
 Each day some offering rare 
 Of immortelles or flowers that fade 
 Above the hero's breast is laid, 
 
 For all his memory share. 
 
 Such are the honors paid the great, 
 But while the gaping crowd await 
 
 On Lincoln's tomb to gaze, 
 I'll turn and seek a lowly mound 
 By curious strangers rarely found 
 
 And there bestow my praise. 
 
 No costly shaft may 'bove it rise 
 With dazzling spire to pierce the skiea, 
 
 But angels know the spot ; 
 They marked it well when off they bore 
 His spirit to the other shore, 
 
 And they'll forget it not. 
 
 The hand of love may sometimes spread 
 Sweet flowers o'er the quiet dead; 
 
 But sweeter than their breath 
 Is memory of that precious life 
 Which ended here its weary strife 
 
 With all-prevailing Death. 
 
 No splendid deed has won him fame, 
 On history's page to write his name. 
 
 But Heaven knows her own; 
 And in the Book of Life enrolled, 
 In letters bright as burnished gold. 
 
 That name is proudly shown. 
 
 (1881). 
 
 WHY IS IT? 
 
 Pve wandered by the ocean strand, 
 And picked its gleaming shells; 
 
 I've listened to the tale of storms 
 That each one wildly tells. 
 
 •V 
 
528 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Like ship-wrecked hulls they idly lio 
 And bleach upon the sands, 
 
 Their former owners scattered wide 
 By mystic, unseen hands, 
 
 O wondrous, mighty power 
 That framed each tiny bark, 
 
 Why dost thou grant a moment's llfe» 
 Then quench its feeble spark? 
 
 This question, o'er and o'er again, 
 
 I hear my heart repeat, 
 As some unnoted, insect form 
 
 Lies crushed beneath my feet. 
 
 Ah I strange is life, and strange is death, 
 And all our questioning vain ; 
 
 But " Why is this? " and " Why is that? " 
 Is every soul's refrain. 
 
 (1881). 
 
 m MEMORY OP T. J. SOUTH. 
 
 Died, January 13th, at the family residence in Frankfort, Thomas 
 J. South, son of Col. Jerry South, after an illness of eleven days. 
 
 Our brother Tom was only thirty years of age, and 
 noted for his apparent health and strength. So sudden 
 was his illness, so unexpected his death, but few of his 
 friends saw him in his last hours. His brothers and 
 sisters were with him; and, hoping against hope, 
 they tried with him to -ward off the fatal blow, but even 
 amidst their efforts, it came. I did not see him till he 
 was stretched upon the bier, and so life-like did he 
 look, I could scarcely persuade myself that he was 
 dead. Short as was his illness, he found time in it to 
 confess his sins, and he died in the full assurance of 
 
POEMS. 529 
 
 pardon. He had, some years ago, made the good 
 confession, but he said his life had not been in keep- 
 ing with this confession. He was one of those warm, 
 generous natures, which has power to attract both 
 young and old. 
 
 And can it, can it be grim death hath stilled 
 The throbbing heart which moved that noble form? 
 
 Can I believe his icy breath hath chilled 
 That pulse whose every beat was true and warm? 
 
 The curling locks lie loose upon that brow, 
 As if those fingers fair them back had tossed — 
 
 He suffered, yet no trace of suffering now 
 Betrays how much his latest struggle cost. 
 
 The eyes are closed, but to my weeping sight 
 The trembling lids seem opening as from sleep 1 
 
 Oh! can it be that all their tender light 
 Is faded — nevermore they'll smile or weep? 
 
 Alas ! I thought those lips were parting then 
 To greet me with that cheery, ringing voice. 
 
 Whose echo through my soul now sounds again, 
 In accents making all my heart rejoice. 
 
 Those hands — upon that breast how still they lie, 
 
 And will they nevermore my babes caress? 
 To those extended arms they'd instant fly, 
 
 And round that neck their tiny arms would press. 
 
 When first my eyes beheld that form erect, 
 
 I wondered at its manly grace and power; 
 No trace of weakness could my gaze detect — 
 
 How could I then foresee this trying hour? 
 
 He moves not — does not speak, or even smile. 
 
 Yes ; death hath claimed our brother as his own — 
 No, no; not Death, but Life eternal, while 
 
 Poor we are left 'neath burdens yet to groan. 
 
 25 (1881). 
 
530 . FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 " THE LOED LOVETH A CHEERFUL GIVER." 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Come, give of your money, my brother and friend; 
 
 The gospel to far-away heathens 'twill send, 
 
 And light to their darkness, the message will lend. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh! brother, a gift for the Lord do we ask, 
 And surely to give were no burdensome task; 
 Eor Jesus has bid us the giver to tell. 
 Who giveth, but freely the Lord loveth well. 
 
 What! frowning, my brother, and turning away? 
 Why hear you, so coldly, my brother, I pray! 
 Forever there's some one wants money you say! 
 
 Come give of your money, the hungry to feed. 
 
 They cry for your help 'mid their suffering and need; 
 
 In piteous tones from each highway they plead. 
 
 Your money you say by hard labor you earn, 
 
 And hence from your door the poor beggar you turn — 
 
 For lending tlie Lord thus your cliancesyou spurn. 
 
 Come lay up, my brother, your treasure above, 
 And draw in return the Lord's measureless love; 
 Your spirit 'twill gladden with joys from above. 
 
 (1882). 
 
 LET THE OLD SEED DIB THAT NEW FRUIT MAY COME. 
 
 Hear now the words of Paul: 
 Unless a corn of wheat 
 Into the ground shall fall, 
 And, lying there, the earth 
 And damp consume it all. 
 No fruit shall from it come 
 To glad our " Harvest-home." 
 
POEMS. 531 
 
 How close and dark the cells 
 Imprisoniog long the wealth 
 Of golden grain, that dwells 
 Engarnered fast within 
 Those hard, unyielding shells; 
 But, softening 'neath the mold, 
 Their treasures then behold. 
 
 The writer speaks of death — 
 Of ending in the grave 
 Our cherished mortal breath. 
 Like seeds concealing germs, 
 Our spirit's hull, he saith, 
 Must moulder in the earth 
 To give its fruitage birth. 
 
 But e'en this side of the tomb 
 Are graves of our desires, 
 Enshrouded oft in gloom; 
 There, patient, let them lie, 
 Till, bursting into bloom. 
 By fruit of hopes suppressed 
 The waiting trust is blessed. 
 
 Tired teacher, dost thou long 
 To reap immortal souls 
 And bear full sheaves along, 
 To win thee welcome glad 
 From Heaven's angelic throng? 
 Then bury self each day, 
 And for the harvest pray. 
 
 THE GOOD OLD TIMES. 
 
 When I read of Plato, 
 Who, in ages long agone, 
 Mid the groves of Athens, 
 In the hours of learning's davm, 
 
 (1881). 
 
532 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Freely gave from soul o'erflowing 
 Thoughts with truth and beauty glowing, 
 Oft I wonder if his patience 
 Found such trials in his work, 
 As, in every school-room corner, 
 Nowadays is known to lurk. 
 
 Did the boys such mischief 
 
 In those elder days devise? 
 
 Ushering in each moment 
 
 With some harrowing surprise? 
 
 Had they then such elbows, itchingr 
 
 Till some neighbor's ribs were twitching 
 
 'Neath a blow so unexpected, 
 
 Makes him gasp aloud for breath? 
 
 And return with speed impulsive 
 
 Stroke administered in stealth? 
 
 Could they then with shuffling 
 
 Make such hideous, deafening noise, 
 
 Till the voice of Plato 
 
 Loudly cried, "Be quiet, b,oys! " 
 
 Could they, then, from bits of paper, 
 
 Means invest for many a caper? 
 
 Such as windmills whirling madly 
 
 Till his brain was all awhir! ; 
 
 Or, yet, wads, those ready missiles. 
 
 School boys now are wont to hurl? 
 
 Paper? — I'm forgetting — 
 
 Why, 'twas then a thing unknown ! 
 
 Parchment and papyrus, 
 
 Great philosophers alone 
 
 Could afford such means expensive 
 
 To express their thouglit intensive — 
 
 Not a bit for wads or windmills ; 
 
 Not a bit for writing notes; 
 
 Not a scrap the floor to litter ; 
 
 Not a slip for writing votes. 
 
POEMS. 633 
 
 Clad their feet with sandals, 
 Not a boot with thundering sound, 
 Not a pin, for raising 
 Neighbor schoolmate with a bound; 
 Not a knife the seat defacing ; 
 Not a pencil names entracing — 
 Oh! I envy Plato, truly, 
 Freedom from such trials sore — 
 Why, I cease me now to wonder 
 That he lived beyond four score. 
 
 (1882,). 
 
 THE OPEMING YEAR. 
 
 AFTER PRENTICE. 
 
 *Tis morning's bustling hour, and progress now 
 
 Is calling all the drowsy world to forth 
 
 Erom midnight's useless dreams. Harii! from the tower 
 
 The bell's glad tones are peeling, " Come let's crown 
 
 Our New Year King." " Within a chamber deep 
 
 And still " the heart has shut the Old Year's corse; 
 
 In shrouded state he lies, and, now and then, 
 
 In twilight's hour, will Mem'ry gently ope 
 
 The door, and, bending o'er the cold remains 
 
 Regretful drops each welling tear ; but, now. 
 
 Dead hope revived bids sorrow's plaints be still; 
 
 With loyal hearts we'll shout " Long live the king! " 
 
 The seasons, bearing each her gift of love. 
 
 Now haste to greet their sovereign Lord. 'Tis grim 
 
 Old Winter's hand outspreads the ermine robe 
 
 Of state; sweet Spring will strew his path with flowers; 
 
 Bright Summer grants him all her golden wealth; 
 
 And Autumn paints with myriad glowing tints 
 
 His landscape o'er. 
 
 It is a time to change 
 Resolve to noble action. Why obstruct 
 Life's pathway by debris of broken vows. 
 Till by their shapeless, hindering mass they check 
 
53J: FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Each impulse onward? Only by the act 
 
 We crystalize each worthy vow into 
 
 A stepping stone toward heaven. As tolls the Old 
 
 Year's dying knell up starts the warning ghost 
 
 Of unkept Eesolution, and this " spectre grim " 
 
 Goes stalking through the chambers of the soul 
 
 Expelling thence self-satisfaction, till, 
 
 Too oft, the New Year's sounding call will dull 
 
 The ear of conscience. Let us down this ghost 
 
 Once and forever ! 
 
 Welcome, glad New Year, 
 With all thy " throng of happy dreams." To ear 
 Of Suffering thou dost whisper cease of pain; 
 To rosy Health, unending pleasure ; dark, 
 All questioning Doubt has confirmation sure 
 Eor promise ; Faith thou bid'stlook heavenward 
 Till sight reward her trusting; laurels green 
 Thou'lt bind on proud Ambition's brow, and yet 
 Bestow desired gifts on meek Humility. 
 A seer thou art who tellest only good; 
 And wisely, too, for could the human soul 
 Foretaste the anguish life may bring, it would, 
 Like ship o'er burdened, sink before the storm. 
 Alas! full many brightest flowers of earth 
 The Old Year's chilling blast hath blighted; oft. 
 Too, brought he disappointments in his course; 
 But thou, O joyous New Year time, dost speak 
 To every heart of resurrection's hope. 
 And of that blessed state, where nevermore 
 There cometh sad'ning change. 
 
 ,,1882). 
 
 WHAT A DAY MAY BRING. 
 
 The following lines were suggested by the unex- 
 pected death of Nannie Bealert, of Lexington, on 
 December 25th, of the year just closed: — 
 
 Beside the cheerful evening fire, in mood 
 Accordant, sat we older folks, while round 
 
POEMS. 535 
 
 The room in sportive glee, the children played; 
 
 When sudden came a rap on outer door 
 
 "Which made us each one start, or listening stand. 
 The unaccustomed hour made ominous 
 The sound, and half prepared I heard the words : 
 "A message — Nannie's dead! " *' Oh! no; " I thought. 
 'Tis some mistake — 'whj, Nannie's but a child — 
 Scarce yet sixteen, and full of life as is 
 My playful boy. What claim has Death on such 
 As she? 'Tis Grandma," then I thought, "and how 
 We'll miss her counsel wise, her gentle tones; 
 But gladly in the grave she'll rest the frame 
 Which now her spirit clogs. But Nannie dead I 
 An only child, her father's sweetest joy. 
 Who seemed but sent to glad his latest hour. 
 And shall this joy to deepest anguish turn? 
 For this has life to him been lengthened out 
 Beyond the common span? Let's see; again 
 The message let me read. 'Tis trae — 'tis true I 
 * Our Nannie died the tweaty-flfth.' What's that?" 
 Why, that was merriest day of all the year! 
 Could Nannie die amid the shouts of mirth 
 Which made the air resound? Her heart was wont 
 To echo back, that day, each note of joy. 
 And with its happy throbs to light her cheeks 
 Till each beholder every care forgot 
 In presence of a soul so free. 
 
 And yet, 
 'Tis writ, " she's dead," and I must go to " weep 
 With those that weep " 
 ■!> 4> * . * m *« 
 
 Beside the fire again 
 I sit and muse but what a change ! I sat 
 With pleasing thoughts, on yesternight, of day 
 In social pleasure passed. To-night, the sounds 
 Of mourning, scent of flowers, slow movement of 
 A hearse, the sickening air from opened vault, 
 My senses haunt. The world, tho' yet so full 
 
586 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Of teeming millions left seems lone. O Death, 
 Unnumbered joys in Nannie's form you've borne 
 Away, and made us doubt oux lease on what remain. 
 
 (1882). 
 
 A VISION OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 'Twas far beyond the midnight hour, 
 When baby's fretful cry my slumber broke, 
 And, answering, I arose her wants to tend 
 With feeling half reluctant, as our wont 
 Is oft when patient love each labor cheer 
 Should lend, the dim-lit room I groped around. 
 
 The crying hushed, repose I once again 
 
 Might seek; but, lifting, as by chance, a blind 
 
 Which hid from view the outer night, there fell 
 
 Upon my drowsy lids a vision full 
 
 Of splendor glorious. Each star from out 
 
 A field of rosy purple shone, most like 
 
 The light which Guido lends the clouds 
 
 That round Aurora float. This window glimpse 
 
 To further contemplation called, and, hence, 
 
 An eastern door I opened wide, and lo! 
 
 Before my wandering eyes, the source of all 
 
 That radiance glowed. A comet, poised 
 
 On high, fit rival of the sun, whose place 
 
 He held, up toward the zenith threw his train 
 
 Widespread, as if the moon's pale rays to hide. 
 
 Far back to childhood days my thoughts were borne, 
 And, once agaiu, beneath the distant sky. 
 With hand in kind " old aunty's " dusky palm 
 Enclasped, I turned my 'stonished gaze to where. 
 Above, the " blazin' star " appeared, which soon. 
 In awe-struck tones she said, the world would fire, 
 And turn to nothing e'en the solid earth. 
 " Twah time," she thought, "dat wicked souls should pray; 
 
POEMS. 537 
 
 For sho' dis wah de light de Lawd to guide 
 rrom Heben down." Alone, in presence of 
 The night, there came again this sense of awe, 
 And nearer seemed the Lord than ever since 
 Those childhood days. 
 
 'Twas yet an hour before 
 The house would stir, but busy thought all sleep 
 Expelled, and silent meditation from 
 My recent vision many a lesson wrought. 
 How oft, I thought, some intervening blind. 
 Some fastened door, confines in narrow bounds 
 The soul, when, but for that, to worlds unknown 
 Its ken might reach. Of ignorance rough, unhewn, 
 Is made, ofttimes, this door and then the mind 
 Imprisoned never knows how faint the light 
 Within, nor dreams of greater light beyond. 
 Again 'tis narrow learning shuts and bars 
 Within one 'lumined corner all the soul ; 
 And, tho' more polished than the first, with strong 
 Contempt for broader knowledge as the bolt, 
 No less the soul from loftier fiight it holds. 
 
 Of panels various is this door sometimes 
 Enwrought ; a selfish sorrow, doubting faith. 
 Ingratitude for blessings past, or yet 
 Some cherished hate. O soul, lift up the blind, 
 Fling wide the door, whate'er its cumbering form. 
 And find revealed new worlds of light 1 
 
 fl882) 
 
 A CONFESSION. 
 
 There are moments in life when the bitterest tears. 
 Not a whit can the anguish which brings them assuage ; 
 
 There are moments so filled with their freightage of fears, 
 They o'erwhelm the young spirit in premature age. 
 
538 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 There are moments when burdens which bravely we've borne, 
 With a weight past endurance, the worn shoulders press; 
 
 Till a cry from the lips uncomplaining is torn, 
 Tho' the crying alleviate not the distress. 
 
 Tho' 'tis true that with blessings my life has been crowned, 
 Yet to me, now and then, come these moments of care; 
 
 And the thought that in weeping the grief is not drowned, 
 Does not teach me how better the pain I can bear. 
 
 'Tis when ties of the past are felt snapping in twain — 
 Ah! those ties that we've cherished and dreamed were secure. 
 
 When they're severed at last spite our strugglings in vain. 
 Then we feel there's no blessing of earth can endure. 
 
 With the gall of this thought every hope is alloyed — 
 If old friendships miist die, why rejoice in the new? 
 
 Like the old, to our pain, must they soon be destroyed: 
 To my heart then I say, "Bid earth's friendships adieu." 
 
 But the voice of the Lord bids my spirit be filled 
 With the love and the joy, and the peace which are His; 
 
 But my spirit responds: "Oh! how can I be stilled. 
 When nothing that's joyous remains as it is?" 
 
 Your affection, my child, place on things that above 
 
 In the sunlight of God through eternity thrive 1 
 At the words glows my heart with a holier love. 
 And my tears are effaced by the hopes that revive. 
 
 I had made with my hands, out of earth's brittle clay, 
 
 A poor idol, which broken before me now lies. 
 And the fragments, tho' dumb, to me warningly say. 
 
 Be your building in future more certain, more wise." 
 
 C1882). 
 
 LIVING OR DEAD? 
 
 Dead! Longfellow's dead! The bells 
 Of Cambridge toll! 
 Three-score, ten and five they tell, 
 
POEMS. 539 
 
 Einging out his dying knell; 
 Eesponds my soul, 
 Throbbing back each tone that swells. 
 
 Dead! Longfellow's dead! The news 
 Like lightning sped! 
 Weeping, all the nation heard, 
 Echoed back the mournful word, 
 "Our Poet's dead! 
 Lost to earth his sacred muse! " 
 
 Dead? Longfellow dead? Not so — 
 Can dead men speak? 
 Mute, unanswering are the dead, 
 Voiceless to the tears we shed; 
 In vain we seek 
 Words of solace for our woe. 
 
 Dead? Longfellow dead? Oh! no; 
 His voice I hear — 
 List! the "Psalm of Life " he sings; 
 Joy, my soul, its cadence brings — 
 Away each tear ! 
 Living he for whom 'twould flow 
 
 Dead? Longfellow dead? Then whence 
 That word of cheer? 
 Wearied with life's ceaseless war, 
 Courage gone, "Excelsior" 
 Fell on my ear, 
 Quick'ning every torpid sense. 
 
 Gone! Longfellow's gone! 'Tis true 
 
 His life hath flown. 
 
 Love will miss that aged form. 
 
 With his spirit late so warm — 
 
 In realms unknown 
 
 Hides that spirit from our view 
 
540 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Dead! Longfellow's dead! But still, 
 
 E'en while I weep, 
 " Eesignation " fills my soul, 
 Every pain its words console. 
 The dead but sleep ! 
 God can wake thera at his will. 
 
 (1882), 
 
 THE FATAL DANCE. 
 
 'Twas Herod's birthday, and, as if this day 
 
 Had been a blessing to the world, he bade 
 
 With joyous feast its fresh return be marked. 
 
 Ahl fitter had it been in sackcloth , dust. 
 
 And penitential tears the hours to pass ; 
 
 But God, in mercy, lets his judgment wait 
 
 That man may turn from evil deeds, and oft 
 
 This mercy makes the heart more hard. ' Twas thus 
 
 With Herod, potentate of Galilee. 
 
 No consciousness of sin his spirits racked ; 
 
 'Mid smiles of well-pleased guests and fumes of wine. 
 
 Forgotten were the words of John that once 
 
 His conscience stirred. The toast and reveler's song, 
 
 With tale unhallowed, made the moments flee, 
 
 Till in their drunken frenzy each had soon 
 
 This Herod too a god proclaimed. But now, 
 
 Herodias, full of wiles, Salome sends 
 
 To grace the feast. All eyes are hers, and on 
 
 The wanton dance their passions gloat. Oh! sham^ ! 
 
 No maid or wife of pagan Eome, who loved 
 
 Her own good name, was ever known to risk 
 
 Its contact with the dance. No; in that day. 
 
 To be a dancer was to be a thing 
 
 No man esteemed, save as the needed tool 
 
 To gratify his vilest lust; and, here, 
 
 A daughter of the chosen race had made . 
 
 Herself as one of these. O woman, born 
 
 i 
 
POEMS. 541 
 
 To lift man far above his baser self, 
 
 How oft, with thoughtless hand, you bind more fast 
 
 The chains which hold him downl 
 
 But then 'twas fit 
 Herodias thus should train her child. Could she, 
 Adultress that she was, endure rebuke 
 From eyes of wronged innocence? No, no; 
 The daughter, like herself, must be corrupt, 
 Devoid of modest shame. Elate the girl 
 Received her mother's charge ; without a blush. 
 Endured lewd Herod's gaze; with joy approved 
 The reckless vow, "Now ask me, my maiden, what 
 Thou wilt, and I will give it thee ; tho' half 
 My crown." What should she ask? The crown, and be 
 A queen? Ambition answe'red "yes " — but stop ! 
 What will her mother say? How sweet to see 
 The child in meekness, yield to parent's will ; 
 But ah! how sad, if into depths of sin 
 That parent lead. There is a Higher Will 
 Which prime obedience claims ; to know this wilJ 
 A duty none can guiltless leave undone. 
 With moody brow, apart Herodias sat 
 Revolving darkest schemes. In prison yet 
 Survived the holy man who once had dared 
 Reproach her for her sin. She'd importuned 
 With Herod for his life ; but Herod felt 
 In awe of righteousness, and still refused. 
 By night or day, no thought but vengeance filled 
 Her guilty soul. Salome found her thus. 
 But when her tale was heard, a fiendish joy 
 Replaced the former discontent. Revenge 
 Could now be hers. E'en kingdoms vast were naught. 
 Compared with this. " Go tell him now," she cried, 
 "To send me here the head of him I hate! " 
 Why tell the rest — how Herod, thinking not 
 ' Twere greater shame to keep than to break his oath, 
 Reluctant gave the boon, and from that day 
 Had never peace of mind? To me, the dance 
 
542 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Is ever fraught with raem'ry of this deed, 
 And such association strips it hare 
 Of each deluding charm. 
 
 1883). 
 
 WHO DID THIS DEED? 
 
 The following lines were suggested by the recent 
 tragic death of young Louis Crutcher, at New Castle, 
 Ky. His death was caused by the effects of ten grains 
 of morphine administered by his own hand, whilf 
 under the influence of recent dissipation: — 
 
 The hour was growing late, and yet there sat 
 One watcher lone, upon whose brow the lines 
 Of anxious thought grew marked, as, one by one, 
 She measured out each moment's laggard pace. 
 As, now and then, there came a step upon 
 The outer pave, with look of mingled fear 
 And hope she'd bend an eager, listening ear. 
 Until beyond her door the sound would pass 
 And leave her only watching, waiting yet. 
 " Some mother," say you, " for her wayward son 
 This vigil keeps? " Not so; no son to bless 
 Or blight this woman's life the Lord had sent; 
 But to her trust an orphaned boy there fell, 
 Whose mother, years before, the grave had hid. 
 With soul of tender yearning f uU, she strove 
 With prayer and words of love the vacant place 
 To fill, and many a night ere this she'd sat 
 And listened for his home returning step. 
 
 What's that! A heavy, reeling tread ! Alas! 
 
 To weU she's learned the sound. The door was left 
 
 Ajar, that by the lamp light's cheerful glow 
 
 The wanderer should be welcomed in. With haste 
 
 The foster-mother came to greet her charge ; 
 
POEMS. 543 
 
 With quivering lip a tender kiss she gave ; 
 And, as she stood beside the stalwart youth, 
 A passer-by had thought, " What manly strengthi 
 How fit for weaker woman's shield and stay I " 
 But to the scrutinizing gaze his face 
 Revealed au inner presence, in whose grasp 
 The strongest frame were helpless as a babe's. 
 He quailed beneath the penetrating glance 
 And, with a look of desperation, sought 
 His room, 
 
 A quiet settled down o'er all 
 The house ; the weary watcher in a deep', 
 Oblivious slumber lost the sense of care ; 
 When from that room a piercing shriek burst forth. 
 Adown the stairway, thro' the lower hall, 
 The maddening cry resounded yet again : 
 "Come quick! Bring help! The poison! My head My head I 
 Will no one come? " The startled household rush 
 In answer to the cry, and strive to calm 
 His raving words — but no; he speaks too true. 
 In frenzied moment he had thought to throw 
 Away his worthless life an easy task ; 
 But, now, he'd hazard worlds, were they but his 
 To have the deed recalled. 
 
 The doctor came ; 
 Companions of his revels gathered round 
 With faces pale, but hands for help prepared; 
 No means were left untried, no skill unused; 
 But vain, for Death, relentless, kept fast hold 
 Upon the victim who had dared to bid 
 Him come. 
 
 The morrow's papers told the tale 
 In coldly stated facts with but these words 
 Adjoined: " These statements show that we were right 
 When once before we said, this youth 
 Had tried to take his life." But I would ask, 
 " Who did this deed? Is there no stain of guilt 
 
544 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Save on the hand that quiet lies above 
 His pulseless heart? Was innate love of vice 
 From Father handed down?" Ah! no; the love 
 Of God that Father knew and taught his child. 
 Was he an outcast by that Father's death? 
 No, no; by counsel wise his way was led; 
 But men there were who loved the orphan's gold, 
 And cared not how they made it theirs. In name 
 Of lawful trade they lured this boy aside ; 
 Then sent him back to weeping friends with naught 
 But rifled pockets and a conscience seared. 
 With bitter tears he'd promise nevermore 
 Those haunts to seek; but could he 'scape their wiles? 
 On every hand the smiling tempter stood, 
 And held aloft the sparkling ruby wine. 
 "One glass," a chum would say, " they'll never know," 
 And so his pledge was broke, and self-respect 
 Impaired. 
 
 The months went by, and day by day, 
 His fortune went, till oft there lacked the means 
 To quench his burning thirst. Again, I ask, 
 "Who took this life? Who all his manhood stole? 
 Who crazed his brain? " answer, if ye dare, 
 Ye men who make or seU the stufE that ruins 
 Our youth. O ye who make our laws, will ye 
 Not find the guilty man, and bind his hands 
 From further taking precious life? 
 Excelsior Institute, (1883). 
 
 MY MISSION. 
 
 Four times within the last quick-flown decade, 
 
 Upon my longing ear the wailing sound 
 
 Hath f eU, which ushers into wakening light 
 
 Another claimant for this earth-life's smiles ;. 
 
 Or frowns. Four times within my waiting arms, '^ 
 
POEMS. 545 
 
 With mother-love's impulsive force, I've clasped 
 
 A tiny form, the while my heart made room 
 
 This new-come nestling in its warmth to fold. 
 
 Each tiny, stranger face, with questioning thought 
 
 I've scanned, to find if aught familiar there 
 
 Amid its newness lurked. The first. 
 
 Upon me turned a pair of eyes, which back 
 
 A glorious memory called. O'er ocean's waves, 
 
 'Long Elbe's winding course, through Dresden's streets 
 
 That memory bore, and left me 'fore a shrine 
 
 To Raphael's genius reared. I saw again 
 
 The Virgin's maiden face, the Holy Babe, 
 
 The kneeling saint on either side, and, last, 
 
 The cherub poised below. His wondrous eyes, 
 
 Whose depths seem wisdom-filled, met mine with look 
 
 Which read me thro' and thro' — my secret past, 
 
 My present hopes, my future's mystic roll; 
 
 Yet told me naught of all he knew. E'en such 
 
 My first-born's eyes, thro' which her spirit, fresh 
 
 From other climes, gleamed forth yet naught revealed 
 
 Of all its hidden lore. 
 
 The second pair 
 Less dreamy were, but in their glance was that 
 Which filled my own with tears. A pair of eyes 
 Now filmed with age, with labor's sweat grown dim 
 Were once, like these, of clear, unsullied blue — 
 The eyes that filled my mother's maiden dreams, 
 And watched with tender care my childhood's days. 
 Ah! Father, then I wept to think how long 
 In misty light you've groped; and that the tasks 
 Of coming life my boy's bright orbs must dim. 
 But why relate at length such thoughts as these. 
 The like of which each mother knows. We note 
 Each faint resemblance in the outer form 
 To objects long endeared; but what is this 
 To traits of inner likeness, which the life 
 To good or ill may tend? As, one by one, 
 Each nursling 'scapes my arms to walk alone. 
 To exercise an independent will, 
 
546 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 I watch to see what fault of mine its soul 
 Has stamped, and think how best to check its growth. 
 When with her task forgotten quite, I find 
 My eldest born in reverie lost, I know 
 Her mind must be awaked to outer things 
 And made to feel that beauteous dreams are worth 
 Far less than homely labor well performed; 
 And when, with force combative, right and left 
 Our monstrous boy each hindrance knocks, I think 
 How may I turn this stubborn will to fight 
 The hosts of sins which wait his onward path? 
 But fix within his mind some lofty aim, 
 And sure its heights he'll reach whate'er oppose. 
 And, now comes next our household pet, who wins, 
 As well, the love of every transient guest 
 To pay it back from out the wealth untold 
 Which fills her tender heart. A slight reproof 
 Will flood her dark brown eyes with glistening drops, 
 And change to sobs her laugh of wonted glee. 
 Will not a nature so attuned, with love 
 Responsive meet the love divine? Ah! yes; 
 If I myseK but keep this love in view. 
 And let her see its influence rules my life. 
 But one remains, the one who holds within 
 Her mother's heart the suggest nook; and yet, 
 Her life is briefly writ. She takes her food. 
 Sleeps, wakes, smiles, frets, or coos, like other babes, 
 While each peculiar mark of mental power 
 Is but a fiction of her mother's brain 
 Not worth the telling here. But I've forgot 
 "My Mission " was my theme. 'Tis ever so: 
 These babies fill my life so full of work 
 I've not a moment left to talk of " Spheres " 
 And kindred things. " 'Tis pity," say you, " that" 
 I'm hampered thus? How know you that? The Lord 
 Assigns us mother's souls to tend for him _ 
 
 And sure he best our fitting number knows. M 
 
 (1884). • 
 
POEMS. 547 
 
 JUMBO. 
 
 There is a man of great renown 
 
 Who in October came to town ; 
 
 And with him brought a wondrous show, 
 
 To which the folks made haste to go. 
 
 For weeks and weeks before he came, 
 He had the country all aflame 
 With handbills scattered far and wide, 
 Till every school-boy was supplied. 
 
 For full a week or more ahead 
 Of little else could aught be said : 
 Amid the songs and prayers devout 
 There oft would poke old Jumbo's snout. 
 
 The wooden horse of olden time, 
 Of which we read in Virgil's rhyme, 
 And which an army bore within, 
 To Jumbo was a very pin. 
 
 The looked-for morning dawned at last, 
 And soon the wheels were rolling past — 
 The wheels of buggies, phaetons light. 
 The wheels of wagons — what a sight I 
 
 And in these wagons, buggies, carts. 
 Were folk from all adjacent parts; 
 The tender children, gray-haired sires, . 
 The pious saints and noted liars. 
 
 It Is the wont to cry " Hard times ! " 
 When preachers ask for paltry dimes ; 
 But when Lord Barnum called for cash, 
 The halves rolled out like so much trash. 
 
 The man whose children's feet were bare, 
 Of circus tickets bought his share ; 
 Tho' all unshod, poor Bill, and Joe, 
 And Tom, and Sail should see the show. 
 
548 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 And so that day, it came to pass, 
 The streets of Frankfort were a mass 
 Of young and old, of black and white, 
 Of rich and poor — a perfect sight I 
 
 If every church within the place 
 
 Had utilized its utmost space, 
 
 They scarce had held this mighty throng, 
 
 Which toward the show-grouud pressed along. 
 
 Next Sunday came, and empty pews 
 In every church the preacher views ; 
 And, as the plates were passed around, 
 They, here and there, a nickel found. 
 
 Now, why, I ask, this mighty change? 
 Pray is it not a little strange 
 That hundreds who could reach the show. 
 When church time comes can never go? 
 
 (1884). 
 
 THE TRIUMPH OF CHASTITY. 
 
 Eight years have passed, and like a dream 
 
 Almost forgot, these memories seem — 
 
 Those memories of that happy time. 
 
 When in Italia's balmy clime. 
 
 The hours unnoted took their flight. 
 
 And scarce 'twas morn when came the night. 
 
 In Florence, 'mid surrounding hills, I 
 
 Rare beauty all the being thrills ; 
 
 From Brunelleschi's towering dome, 
 
 Down to the tiny church-yard home ; 
 
 Where Mrs. Browning peaceful sleeps, J 
 
 'Tis Beauty still her empire keeps. 1 
 
 'Mid Santa Croce's stately tombs ; | 
 
 Without, where Dante's statue looms, ,^- 
 
 Where Giotto's tower the eye invites, ) 
 
POEMS. 549 
 
 Or yet, San Miniato's heights — 
 Whatever meets the vision keen, 
 'Tis Beauty still is reigning queen. 
 
 Within the lofty palace halls 
 Where Raphael's glories grace the walls, 
 Where files of statues, left and right, 
 With forms unnumbered greet the sight — 
 With forms devised in bronze or stone — 
 There Beauty still uprears her throne. 
 
 But not alone by artists dead 
 Is all this rich effulgence shed, 
 Tor, here and there, some living hand 
 With brain creative in command. 
 Yet chisels out some new design 
 For regal Beauty's fitting shrine. 
 
 In villas with suburban grounds 
 Where violets' perfume sweet abounds, 
 Where new delight is hourly quaffed. 
 Some artists ply their master-craft. 
 Their homes a choice abiding place 
 For queenly Beauty's royal grace. 
 
 But 'mid the dust of city streets. 
 Where din of life the senses greets, 
 Two tiny rooms one artist held, 
 Whose work must rival those of eld, 
 For never subject more devout 
 At Beauty's court stood waiting out. 
 
 For years, o'er one design he'd wrought 
 Till now, to rare perfection brought, 
 In plaster cast the forms appeared 
 Which oft his brain in fancy reared 
 As tribute to the sovereign stores 
 Of her each artist soul adores. 
 
 The dingy walls with cobwebs hung. 
 The dust to shelf and covers clung; 
 The casts of Webster and of Clay 
 
550 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Upon the floor neglected lay; 
 
 And yet a halo over all 
 
 Each comer held in Beauty's thrall. 
 
 This halo from the poised head 
 Of Virtue's figure round was spread, 
 Her fingers fair held fast the dart 
 By Cupid aimed to fire her heart ; 
 But Virtue deftly 'scaped the blow, 
 And shaftless now is Cupid's bow. 
 
 This Beauty's tribute, did I say? 
 Ah I better yet — 'tis Virtue's sway 
 This marble story loud proclaims 
 Our artist wrought with loftier aims 
 When forth this inspiration grew 
 Than heathen sculptor ever knew. 
 
 The hand is still whose patient stroke 
 Such beanties into being woke ; 
 But " Virtue's Triumph" sounds the call 
 Above the folded funeral pall, 
 '♦ Let those who love refining art 
 Extol the name of Joel Hart." 
 
 (1884.) 
 
SACKED POEMS. 551 
 
 SACRED POEMS. 
 
 A DAY WITH JESUS. 
 
 KKAD AT S. 8. CONVENTION, NASHVILLE, KY. 
 
 Since early morn, the Master's weary feet 
 
 With careless tread had borne him to and fro, 
 
 Wherever suffering's divers call had bid 
 
 Him come. At dawn, among the Gadarenes 
 
 He'd loosed from mad'ning bondage him 
 
 Whom demons legion-numbered held in sway. 
 
 Then, driven from those coasts by men who far 
 
 Preferred the cursed gains of lawless trade 
 
 To health-restoring presence of the Lord, 
 
 He launched once more upon the sea. That sea, 
 
 Eemembering yet the voice its surging waves 
 
 Had recent stilled, opposed no hindrance to 
 
 The gliding oar. Plain-spoken James, at first, 
 
 With even stroke, the tiny bark propelled. 
 
 Then Peter, grown impatient, seized the oar. 
 
 Eesponsive to his touch, the prow into 
 
 A speed impetuous leaped — with aim, tho' less 
 
 Direct. Next John, with gentle, loving grasp. 
 
 To measures rhythmic tuned their onward course. 
 
 The while in unrecorded converse slipped 
 
 The moments by, till, unawares, there stole 
 
 Upon the view Capernia's gloomy walls. 
 
 Prom out these one-hued walls of dark basalt 
 
 One solitary, lofty-towering front 
 
 In dazzling whiteness gleamed. The synagogue. 
 
 Was this, by that centurion built of whom 
 
 The Jews had said, "A worthy man is he 
 
 Who loves our race." The boatman could afar 
 
 This front descry, and thus through tossing wave 
 
 His passage guide. Pit emblem 'twas of him 
 
 Whose hand the pile upreared. His virtue thus, 
 
552 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Amid an age ■with vice all blackeuccl o'er, 
 In glowing light appears, anu well may guide 
 The seeker for an ever-during name. 
 Debarking where this white fa9ade the beach 
 O'erlooked, straightway, to Levi's house, hard by, 
 The Master led. A banquet rare the host. 
 With liberal hand, soon spread, and, fellow guest 
 With Publicans and sinners, Jesus at 
 This sumptuous feast reclined. No jest obscene. 
 No reveler's song, the lips unhallowed now 
 Outpour, for, each, intent and speechless, hung 
 Upon His gracious words. Thus ranting sin 
 Is silenced, when calm Purity her face 
 Presents. Not so with sneaking Envy, which 
 So often lurks unnoted 'neath the garb 
 From satisfied self-righteousness enwrought. 
 Thus hid, with eager, searching eye, it scans 
 The object of its hate, and sees a fault 
 Where Love would find perfection. Envy's eye 
 Was here, and Envy's sneering tone was heard. 
 " Why eats your Master thus with Publicans 
 And sinners, men defiled?" So spake, aside. 
 The Pharisees; but Jesns knows the thought 
 This moment in the heart conceives. " I came," 
 He said, "to sinners call — the righteous need 
 Me not." Eebuked, the Pharisees awhile 
 Withdrew, and John's disciples took their turn. 
 " Why do ye never fast?" they ask, " when we 
 East oft, as do the Pharisees? " Vain men! 
 To merit claim for forms observed, when dwells 
 Within the heart foul Envy, with her touch 
 Polluting every thought and act! How dare 
 They place such erring lives in contrast with 
 The One of whom 'twas said, "He doeth all 
 Things well! " And fasting had He not, in prayer, 
 Full forty days His fleshly needs forgot? 
 And daily since, in giving spirit food 
 To famished men. His appetites suppressed? 
 No self-defense He pleads. But little does 
 
SACRED POEMa. 553 
 
 He care for mere injustice to Himself. 
 
 Men can not fast, in trutti, except some deep 
 
 Emotion lift the soul too high for reach 
 
 Of carnal things. E'en such the lesson borne 
 
 By His reply which sent each questioner forth 
 
 The words to ponder. 
 
 For an instant, held 
 By wonder, on the very threshhold, those 
 Departing paused. An august ruler of 
 The synagogue to hated Matthew's house 
 Demanding entrance ! Yes, 'tis true ; he seeks. 
 With desperate haste, the doorway. Reverent each 
 Then stands aside to let him pass. The f easter now 
 Perceive his outline, and amazement stills 
 The cup but half way to the eager lip. 
 And from the hand lets fall the morsel yet 
 Untasted. At a glance they know him; for, 
 In former times, on holy Sabbath days. 
 These Publicans the synagogue had oft 
 Frequented. Later, when for Roman gold 
 They bartered faith, encountering on the street 
 His stately form, they'd quickly turn away 
 To thus avoid his look of stern reproof 
 Which rendered more intense the horrid pangs 
 Of guilty conscience. Now and then, in hours 
 Of silent night, his image came to haunt 
 Each torturing dream. They'd see him, as of old, 
 His mantle draped in folds majestic o'er 
 His form, his flowing, snow-white beard, his mien 
 Which awed each listener as, with tone unmoved. 
 He read the curses of the Law on such 
 As they. That mantle, now, was all awry 
 And half concealed the look of anguish on 
 His face. Uncombed, devoid of ointment, fell 
 The cherished beard, all stooped his form beneath 
 A burden weightier than his three-score years. 
 In broken words, at Jesus' feet, he laid 
 This burden down. " O Master, even now 
 My daughter lieth dead, but come and place 
 
554 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 Thy hand upon her, that she once again 
 
 May live." Forthwith, in haste, the Master rose, 
 
 And followed where the father led with step 
 
 Impatient. 
 
 Multitudes of people pressed 
 Around; but one frail, trembling woman, moved 
 By desperation, pushed her way amid 
 The throng. "But let me touch his garment's hem? " 
 She thought, "One touch will make me whole." Ah! yes; 
 But can she ever reach His side? They make 
 No room to let her pass — such rags command 
 No reverence. Once, in robes embroidered by 
 Her fingers deft, she'd walked, with grace; these streets, 
 And then, at her approach, the gaping crowd 
 Would part, exchanging words of whispered praise, 
 Which, heard, had kindled into deeper glow 
 The health-bloom on her radiant face. But fell 
 Disease had stolen from the cheek its hue, 
 From limb and bust their rounded contour sapped ; 
 To slow paced languor changed the bounding step; 
 With dread of self-filled hopeful eye. No more • 
 With skill the veil or robe her fingers wrought. 
 No more with thought of vain adorning kept 
 Her brain itself employed. Iler time, her gold, 
 Her jewels rare, the broidered robes themselves, — 
 She gave them all to men who claimed to know 
 Her body's needs, — and yet was nothing bettered. 
 A beggar, clad in rags, with greedy look. 
 She watched the passer-by ; for every coin 
 Let fall the hoard increased which access gained 
 To yet another quack renowned. 'Twas thus 
 She sat and watched; and longed, when some one said, 
 " The great Physician, comes, whose very touch 
 Gives health, and free of charge, to humblest wretch. 
 And see! She's reached Him now! No, no! not yet — 
 Another comes between — her strength may fail 
 Her yet too soon ! Once more she tries — and, joy! 
 The change has come ! 'Tis health restored uplifts 
 The tottering frame. " Who touched me? " To fear 
 
 i 
 
SACRED POEMS. 555 
 
 The tone transformed her joy, and glad she heard 
 The answer come, "The crowd is pressing all 
 Around." She thought to hide herself and thus 
 Escape, but Jesus calls her back, and there. 
 Before that host, she tells it all, then waits 
 With dread to hear a stern response. " In peace 
 Depart — thy faith, my daughter, makes thee whole." 
 These words assuring from her soul expelled 
 Each trembling fear, and left them only peace 
 And love, and joy, and gratitude, which fain 
 Would tell themselves in her Eedeemer's praise ; 
 But sounds of mourning from the ruler's house, 
 Now met the ear, and forth a servant came, 
 Whose bowed head and step reluctant told 
 Before the tidings which his words confirmed. 
 "Why trouble you the Master now? Lo! dead 
 Thy daughter lies." Dead! dead! The father turned 
 His mutely pleading, helpless look upon 
 The Master's pitying face. "Believe, and yet 
 Again thou'lt see her live," the answer came. 
 Encouraged thus, Jairus hastened on ; 
 And as the house they neared, still wilder grew 
 The mourners' wail : "Alas! alas! for her! 
 Alas ! that she should die so young, so fair I 
 The father's only child. Alas! for him!" 
 As at His bidding fell, on Galilee, 
 The roaring waves, so now the Master calms 
 This storm of grief . " This mourning cease ; the maid 
 But sleeps awhile." The hired minstrels laughed 
 In scorn His words to hear ; but faith controlled 
 The father's will, and soon, with Peter, James 
 And John, the parents stood beside their dead. 
 With throbbing hearts they breathless watch for signs 
 Of life, while He, whose word is life, in His 
 The clammy fingers took, and at His call 
 The spirit came again, to fill with warmth 
 The stiffened pulseless frame. 
 
 Amid the joy 
 And greetings, Jesus thought to steal away 
 
550 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 And rest from all the press of people and 
 
 Of people's cares ; but scarce outside the door 
 
 Two blind men mercy sought, and, for their faith, 
 
 He gave them sight. Then, as the day began, 
 
 So came its close, in driving out from one 
 
 Possessed a demon foul; at which again 
 
 The Pharisees blasphemed. 
 
 So, now, a day 
 With Jesus we have spent — a day so full 
 Of work it makes one weary e'en to think 
 It o'er — of work so full of love to man, 
 It dwindles into naught our boasted zeal. 
 Ye followers of Christ, if weary grown, 
 Discouraged by your labors oft in vain. 
 But study well the life of Christ, and say: 
 ' If so my Master daily toiled, was tired, 
 Eejected, yet endured, then what am I 
 To grow impatient, drop my hands and cease 
 The strife when fails some feeble work of mine 
 With little wisdom in its plan, with love 
 Imperfect wrought, with motive selflsh, but 
 Too often sullied? " 
 Excelsior Institotbj, June 26, 1882. 
 
 HOW THE STONE WAS ROLLED AWAY. 
 
 In the hour of twilight gray, 
 Ere the sun had cast a ray, 
 Faithful women bent their way 
 Toward the tomb where Jesus slept: 
 All night long they'd watched and wept. 
 Sorrow's weary vigil kept; 
 Now they each a burden bore, 
 Spices sweet — a treasured store — 
 Purchased not an hour before. 
 Which their love had bade them bring 
 To anoint their Lord and king. 
 
SACRED POEMS. 557 
 
 They had watched when Joseph laid 
 In the tomb his hands had made, 
 Him whom Judas had betrayed — 
 Him by wicked men reviled — 
 Beaten by their hands defiled ; 
 They had watched with anguish wild, 
 As His hands and feet were nailed 
 To the cross, but naught availed. 
 On the cross they saw him die ; 
 Witnessed all His agony. 
 
 Sadly came the Sabbath dawn, 
 Slow the quiet hours wore on. 
 Prayer seemed empty — hope was gone I 
 Longing but to see once more 
 Him whose memory they deplore. 
 Glad they see that Sabbath o'er. 
 Haste they now with eager feet, 
 With their spices rare and sweet, 
 Fearing lest they hindi'ance meet. 
 Hear them doubtful, questioning say : 
 " Who shall roll the stone away? " 
 
 Scarce the words their lips had spoke, 
 When the sun in splendor broke 
 O'er the distant mountain's yoke, 
 And revealed the dreaded stone 
 rrom the cavern's mouth back-thrown, 
 By some power as yet unknown. 
 Glad to see this hindrance gone, 
 To the tomb they hastened on. 
 
 Lo! what vision greets their eyes, 
 Filling each with mute surprise? 
 Empty there the grave-cloth lies, 
 And an angel, dazzling bright — 
 Brighter than the morning light — 
 Falls upon their 'stonished sight. 
 * Fear ye not," the angel said; 
 
558 riEESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 " Seek ye living 'mong the dead? 
 Risen He whose blood was shed." 
 Silent then the women turned, 
 Scarce believing what they'd learned. 
 
 Thus the stone away was rolled ; 
 Thus were sorrowing hearts consoled. 
 Often be the story told, 
 Tfll each worker cease to fear 
 Difficulties which appear 
 With our work to interfere, 
 Work with tireless, loving zest; 
 God will supplememt the rest. 
 
 (1882). 
 
 DAVID'S LAMENT OVER SAUL AND JONATHAN. 
 
 [II. Samuel, Chapter 1.] 
 
 O ye mountains of Gilboa, 
 
 Firm ye've stood since days of Noah, 
 
 With the light of heaven blest ; 
 Nevermore let eves bedewing, 
 Nevermore let showers renewing, 
 
 Eresh the verdure on thy crest. 
 
 On thy heights the mighty f alleth ! . 
 
 How the thought my soul appalleth! i 
 
 Useless there lie shield and bow — j 
 
 Knew ye not the Lord's annointed? 1 
 
 Was he thus to death appointed ^ 
 
 By the stranger's ready blow? ! 
 
 i 
 
 O ye winds, tell not the story I 
 
 That departed is our glory — 
 
 Tell it not in streets of Gath, ^ 
 
 Saul and Jonathan, so gladly 
 Askelon would hear how sadly 
 
 Ye have felt Almighty wrath. 
 
 i 
 
SACRED POEMS. 559 
 
 Swifter than the eagle's flying, 
 Lions in their strength outvying, 
 
 Kushed they both 'gainst Israel's foes; 
 Back they turned, not empty handed, 
 '* Onward! all their hosts commanded, 
 
 Thus avenging Israel's woes. 
 
 In their lives by love united, 
 To their death at once invited — 
 
 Saul, thou wast sweet Israel's light, 
 And thy son — where is another 
 Can replace thee, friend and brother, 
 
 Taken from my longing sight? 
 
 To me, Jonathan, how tender 
 
 Was the love thy soul did'st render — 
 
 Por thee am I sore distressed! 
 Woman's love by far excelling, 
 Every thought of self expelling, 
 
 Reigned that love within thy breast. 
 
 Over Saul, Israel's daughter, 
 From the sea to Jordan's waters. 
 
 Wildly weep and loudly wail! 
 Rich in scarlet cloth he clad you. 
 To delights renewed he bade you — 
 
 To delights that never fail, 
 
 "Fallen! fallen! " chant ye weeping, 
 " Low in dust our king is sleeping. 
 Wounded by the cruel spear! 
 Peaceful, Saul, be now thy slumber, 
 Let no thought of war encumber 
 Or disturb with wakening fear." 
 
 (1882). 
 
560 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 EUTH AND NAOMI. 
 
 [A poem read at the Annual Longfellow Celebration, February 29, 1884.] 
 
 The Eastern sun, with horizontal beam, 
 
 Spread wide o'er Moab's plain the morning light; 
 
 The mountains farther west their crests upreared 
 
 To catch the earliest gleam, and with it, wake 
 
 To livelier hues the Salt Sea hidden at 
 
 Their base; broad, waiting harvest fields, with wealth 
 
 Unreckoued yet, threw back each golden ray, 
 
 The reaper's task presaging. Not alone 
 
 From glowing mountain-tops, from waving fields, 
 
 From waters murky, things inanimate. 
 
 Came greetings of the morn ; for, while, as yet. 
 
 But glimmering twilight prophesied the day, 
 
 Three women on the way to Jordan's fords had started. 
 
 Setting forth at dawn, betokened haste; 
 
 But as we see them now, with lingering step. 
 
 And many a backward glance they pass along 
 
 The plain. What means this journey lone? the looks 
 
 Eegretful cast? those robes of saddest hue 
 
 That drape with mournful folds each moving form? 
 
 What recent sorrow marks with added lines 
 
 The matron's furrowed cheek, and from the eye 
 
 Of youth has washed its joyous light? Ah! would 
 
 You know? Of widowhood these signals tell, 
 
 The saddest tale that earth has ever told! 
 
 Ah I yes; I know the heart of childhood breaks 
 
 In agonizing sobs, that will not be 
 
 Appeased, when Death the mother's voice hath stilled; 
 
 I know the mother's empty arms hath oft 
 
 In dreams, embraced again the darling lost; 
 
 And waked to hours of freshened grief, because 
 
 'Twas but a phantom of the night ; I know 
 
 The father's pride is broken, humbled in 
 
 The dust, to see his boy, his dearest hope. 
 
 In manhood's prime struck down; but all 
 
 These griefs are slight compared with that which sends 
 
SACRED POEMS. 561 
 
 A woman forth a wanderer lone ! Alone I 
 Sad word I Yet none can ever know how sad 
 Till taught by that companionship which makes 
 Of twain one flesh. O'erwhelming grief is known 
 But by the loss of joy. And such the grief 
 Whose weight retards the matron's aged pace, 
 And teaches buoyant youth to counterfeit 
 The weariness of age. "And why," you ask, 
 The backward glance? Ah! 'tis the spell which leads 
 TTie mourner, o'er and o'er, to seek the spot 
 Where last appeared the cherished features lost 
 To earth. In yonder village, from the view 
 Keceding now, these women each has left 
 A treasure such as this, and harder is the 
 Thought than memory of the farewell words 
 In broken accents uttered at the dawn 
 By living friends. 
 
 "My daughters, see these fields." 
 It is the eldest speaks ; with reverent heed 
 Her young companions turning hear her words. 
 
 " Like these the harvest's ripening in the sun 
 When first mine eyes beheld this Moab plain; 
 And glorious was the sight, for I had come 
 From out a land where famine's cry was heard. 
 Oft-erring Israel once again had sinned, 
 And all Judea's sky had turned to brass, 
 Her earth to iron, and her rain to dust. 
 At Bethlehem, our home, we saw no hope 
 Of better days, so hither came we all. 
 The morrow after, good Elimelech 
 And our two sons the earliest reapers joined, 
 All eager once again to earn their bread. 
 Orpah, do you and Euth recall that day? " 
 
 ' ' Recall ? 'Tis never absent from my thought — 
 That day when first I saw your son. 'Twas in 
 My father's field — there was no arm like his! 
 East fell the grain before his stroke. I thought, 
 What happiness to lean on such an arm. 
 And call its strength my own. How can I live I 
 
 36 
 
562 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 
 
 How can I live! bereft of such a joy? " 
 
 Such Orpah's words ; Kuth's anguish far too deep 
 
 Tor words, but spoke in unrestrained tears. 
 
 The mother speaks again, " That day, my name 
 
 Naomi seemed no mockery to my soul 
 
 For pleasant was my life ; but, now, 'twere fit 
 
 To call me Mara — bitter, bitter is 
 
 My lot! But you, my daughters, weep no more. 
 
 You have been true to me and to the dead. 
 
 Yield not your youth to grief; for you are joys 
 
 In store. Return unto your people now. 
 
 As I go unto mine." And Orpah kissed 
 
 Her mother-in-law, and, weeping, left ; but Ruth 
 
 Went on, still speechless, till Naomi said, 
 
 " Why go you not with Orpah back again? 
 Among strange people you will pine for home. 
 I am not worth the sacrifice of your 
 Young life: the grave, ere long, will end my cares." 
 Then Ruth, her purpose in her tones, replied, 
 
 " Entreat me not to leave thee, no^ to return; 
 For to the places thou goest, I will go, 
 And whereso'er thou lodgest, I will lodge; 
 Thy people shall be mine; thy God, my God. 
 Where e'er thou diest, let me die, and there 
 Be buried. Death alone shall sever me 
 From thee." And Ruth steadfastly kept her word. 
 
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