UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY Class Book me \ 1 Ja 09-20M ■A OP ^'i" : STATE Uu YAR D JATAl. \ BAYARD TAYLOR'S TRAVELS- / ^^^Idorado ; or, Adventures in the Path of Empire (Mexico and California). i2mo. Household edition . . $1.50 t Central Africa. Life and Landscape from Cairo to the White Nile. Two plates and cuts. i2mo. Household edi- y tion . . $1.50 Greece and Russia. With an Excursion to Crets. Two plates. l2mo. Household edition .... $1.50 Home and Abroad. A Sketch-Book of Life, Scenpry, and Men. Two plates. i2mo. Household edition . . $1.50 X/" (Second Series.) With two plates. i2mo. Household edition $1.50 India, China, and Japan. Two plates. i2mo. Household edition $1.50 Land of the Saracen ; or, Pictures of Palestine, Asia Minor, Sicily, and Spain. With two plates. i2mo. Household edition . . . . . . . $1.50 Northern Travel. Summer and Winter Pictures of Sweden, Denmark, and Lapland. With two plates. i2ino. House- hold edition $1.50 '\/' Views Afoot ; or, Europe Seen with Knapsack and Staff. i2mo. Household edition ...... $1.50 Sq. octavo. Illustrated. Kennett edition . . $1.75 By-Ways of Europe. i2mo. Household edition . . $1.50 Egypt and Iceland in the Year 1874. i2mo. Household edition $i«5o G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, Publishers. New York. At Home and Abroad A Sketch-Book of Life, Scenery, and Men By Bayard Taylor First Series G. P. Putnam's Sons New York and London XTbe l^nickerbockec ipteea 1902 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by G. P. PUTNAM, the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. Copyright, 1891, By marie TAYLOR. Ubc Unkfeerbocficr ipreee, flew 3i?orft PREFACE. [n this volume I have collected together the various detached sketches of men and things, and the records of short excursions, or episodes of travel, for which tht-.ta was no appropriate place in the narratives already published. Most of them have appeared, at intervals, aunng ike past eight years — ^have, perhaps, been long since read and forgotten by many of my readers ; yet I trust that there are few, the subjects of which are not m themselves of sufficient interest to justify me in thus reproducing them. At least they have the advantage of variety, and the volume, like the sketch-book of an artist, has figures for those who do not appreciate land- Bcapes, matter-of-fact for those who dislike sentiment, and a close adherence to Nature as a compensation for any lack of grace in the execution. It is a record of actual experiences, and aims at no higher merit than the utmost fidelity. BAYARD TAYLOH. CONTENTS. PAGE the flnit Journey I ever made, i A. Night Walk, , , 14 First Difficultiea with Foreign Tongfuefl^ • * . > * • 24 A. Young Author a Life in London, 35 The Atlantic, * . 40 Blambles in Warwickshire, 61 A Walk from Heidelberg to Nuremberg — Part L, . • • ,66 A Walk from Heidelberg to Nuremberg — Part IL, . • • .16 Panorama of the Upper Danube, 88 The Road from Vienna to Trieste, 102 Smyrna, and the Grecian Arch'pelago, . . • . . .113 A Walk through the Thiiringian Forest, 128 My Supernatural Experiences, . . , • « • .140 More of the Supernatural, .153 A November Trip Northwards, 165 The Mammoth Cave— Part L, 180 The Mammoth Cave— Part U , • . , , .190 The Manunoth Cave— Part nL, . , . .904 Mackinaw, and the Lakes, ... 926 A Telegraphic Trip to Newfoundland— Part L • . . • 238 A Telegraphic Trip to Newfoundland — Part II., • • • « 259 A Telegraphic Trip to Newfoundland— Pari ILL, . . • .264 CONTEOTS. PAG I i Telegraphic Trip tc Newfoundland — Part IV , 280 A. Telegraphic Trip to Newfoundland — ^Part V., • , . 292 Holidays in Switzerland and Italy, , 804 A German Home, , , , 318 fiife in the Thiiringian Forest, . . . • . ,825 Interviews with German Authon, 338 Alexander Von Humbold' * • . . 351 Summer Gossip from England, 366 The Castles of the Gleichen, . . • • . • • ,374 Weimar, and its Dead, 387 A German Idyl, 399 The Three Hundredth Anniversary of the UmyeiBitj ol Jon% . 4=10 Some Enghsh Ce'ebrif es, .486 Scenes at a Targot-Shooting, . 447 Aspects of German Sooiety, . . . , v • 458 A True Story, « • ,460 The Landscapes of the World, • • # • • *81 Preferences, after Seeing the W<»ld» « • • . • ^9 AT HOME AND ABROAD. I. THE FIRST JOURNEY I EVER MADE. My friend, Ida Pfeiffer, relates, in the preface to one ot ner volumes, that the desire for travel was with her an inborn propensity. When a little girl, she was accustomed to watch the mail-coach as it whirled daily through her na- tive valley ; and when it had crossed the verge of the hill which bounded her childish world, she would frequently weep, because she could not follow it and visit the unknown regions beyond. In looking back to my childhood, I can recall no such instinct of perambulation; but on the con- trary, the intensest desire to climb upward — so that with out shifting the circle of my horizon, I could yet extend it and take in a far wider sweep of vision. I envied every bird that sat swinging upon the topmost bough of the great, centnry-old cherry tree ; the weather-cock on our bam seemed to me to wlilrl in a higher region of the air , 2 AT HOME AND ABROAD. and to rise from the earth in a balloon, was a bliss which 1 would almost have given my life to enjoy. Perhaps the root of the instinct was the same in both cases ; but Ma dame Pfeiffer's desires shot off in a horizontal direction, while mine went up perpendicularly. I remember, as distinctly as if It trere yesterday, the first tune this passion was gratified. Looking out of the gar. ret window, on a bright May morning, I discovered a row of slats which had been nailed over the shingles for the convenience of the carpenters, in roofing the house, and had not been removed. Here was, at last, a chance to reach the comb of the steep roof, and take my rirst look abroad into the world ! Not without some trepidation I ventured out, and was soon seated astride of the sharp ridge. Unknown forests, new fields and houses appeared to my triumphant view. The prospect, though it did not extend more than four miles in any direction, was boundless. Away in the northwest, glimmering through the trees, was a white object — probably the front of a distant barn ; but I shouted to the astonished servant-girl, who had just discovered me from the garden below : *' I see the Falls of Niagara With increase of knowledge, this instinct took the definite form of a longing to see and to climb a mountain. My nurse was an old Swiss woman, in the background of whose stories stood the eternal Alps ; some few of the neighbors had seen the Blue Ridge (the members of our community generally, were as thoroughly attached to the soil as tlie Russian serfs) and in our native region of softly-rounded hills and small intervening valleys — a lovely reproduction of English Warwickshire — the description of a mountain, THE FlKSl JODKNEi' 1 EVEE MADE. 3 mantled ^\dth pine, faced with sheer precipices, and streaked with summer snow, seemed to be a fable, a miracle, an impossibility. So I determined — since it was difficult to ascend much above the top of the house at home — that my first journey should be in the direction of a mountain. It was not so easy, however, to carry this plan into exe- cution. A farmer's son — ^tempted on the one hand by books, knives, and breastpins, and on the other, by circuses, menageries, phrenological lectures, pea-nuts, and ice-cream — can rarely save enough from the sale of his rabbit-skins, walnuts, and sumac leaves, or even from his own cherished pig — the "runt" of the litter — ^to commence any serious undertaking. My private means were chiefly derived from these sources, and every succeeding spring I found myself in the condition of the United States Post-Office Depart- ment, in the year 1859. But when my seventeenth Maj came around, and I was formally apprenticed to the print- ing business, one stipulation in the paper of indenture opened an unexpected way for me. It was arranged that I should receive forty dollars a year for the purchase of my clothing, and as I entered on my apprenticeship with ?\ tolerable supply, I at once saw the possibility of saving enough out of my first year's allowance to enable me to reach the nearest mountain. The plan succeeded well. At the termination of the year, I found myself in possession of the enormous sum of fifteen dollars. But my ideas and desires had in the mean time expanded, and the amount of capital secured appeai'ed sufficient to warrant me in undertaking a much more exten- •ivo journey than I had oiiginally intended. Is'ew York, AT HOME ANr> ABROAD. tlie Highlands, the Catskills, Berkshire, and the ConQecti, cut Valley! Of course, the tour must be accomplished mostly on foot ; and I confess I counted a little upon the Hospitality of the country-people for a meal or a bed, if my purse should get ybyj low. A fellow-apprentice, of ample nieans (I believe he had twenty-seven dollars), agreed to bear me company; and about the middle of May, 1843, the necessary holiday was obtained from our employer. My scanty baggage was contained in a soldier's knapsack, borrowed from a private of the "National Grays" — ^the sole militia company in the place — and the gilded letters " N. G." upon the back proved afterwards to be a source of curiosity to the public — many persons, supposing me to be an itinerant peddler, taking them to mean "New Goods." My money was entirely in quarter-dollars, as the United States Bank was no more; and such things as drafts, exchange brokers, etc., were unknown to me. My companion, on account of his extensive means, deter- mined to travel by railroad to New York, while I, who was obliged to foot it across the sands of New Jersey, started a day in advance, the rendezvous being a small soda water shop in John street, kept by a mutual acquaint- ance. The steamboat from Philadelphia deposited me at Bordentown, on the forenoon of a warm, clear day. I buckled on my knapsack, inquired the road to Amboy, and struck off, resolutely, with the feelings of an explorer on the threshold of great discoveries. The sun shone brightly, the woods were green, and the meadows were gay with phlox and buttercups. Walking was the natural impulse of the muscles; and the glorious visions which the next THE FIEST JOURNEY I EVER MADE. 5 few days would unfold to me, drew me onward with a powerful fascination. Thus, mile after mile went by; and early in tha afternoon I reached Hightstown, very hot and hungry, and a little footsore. Twenty-five cents only had been expended, thus far — and was I now to dine for half a dollar? The thought was banished as rapidly as it came^ and six cakes, of remarkable toughness and heaviness, put an effectual stop to any further promptings of appetite that day. The miles now became longer, and the rosy color of my anticipations faded a little. The sandy level of the country fatigued my eyes; the only novel objects I had yet dis- covered were the sweep-poles of the wells ; and though I nodded to everybody I met, my greetings vv^ere not always cordially returned. I had been informed, you mu?t know that in the land of Jersey the inhabitants were inclined to be offended if you did not give them the short, silent nod, which is the ordinary form of country salutation in Ame- rica. (People say "I nodded to him" — not "spoke" or ' howe(] ") The hot afternoon was drawing to a close, and I was wearily looking out for Spotswood, when a little inci- dent occurred, the memory of which has ever since been as refreshing to me as the act in itself was at that time. I stopped to get a drink from a well in front of a neat uttle farm-house. While I was awkwardly preparing to h^i down the bucket, a kind, sweet voice suddenly said : " Let me do it for you." I looked up, and saw before me a girl ^f sixteen, with blue eyes, wavy auburn hair, and slender torra — not strikmgly handsome, but with a sliy, pretty face, which blushed the least bit in the v/orld. as she met my 6 AT HOME AND ABROAD. gaze. Without waiting for my answer, she seized the pole, and soon drew up the dripping bucket, which she placed upon the curb. " I will get you a glass," she then said, and darted into the house — reappearing presently with a tumbler in one hand and a plate of crisp tea-cakes in the other. She stood beside me while I drank, and then ex tended the plate with a gesture more inviting than any words would have been. I had had enough of cakes for one day ; but I took one, nevertheless, and put a second in my pocket, at her kind persuasion. This was the first of many kindnesses which I have received from strangers all over the wide world ; and there are few, if any, which I shall remember longer. At sunset I had walked twenty-two miles, and had taken to the railroad track by way of a change, when I came upon a freight train, which had stopped on account of some slight accident. " Where are you going ?" inquired the en- gineer. " To Amboy." " Take you there for a quarter It was too tempting : so I climbed upon the tender, and rested my weary legs, while the pines and drifted sand? flew by us for an hour or more — and I had crossed Ne^i Jersey ! There was the ocean ! At least I thought so, for I heard the dash of waves on the beach, and the Neversink was invisible in the faint mist and moonlight. Instead of sup- per, I took a bath — tasted the water, and found it bitter salt. There was no doubt of it ; I was swimming in the Atlantic. A deep sleep in some tavern followed; but, hearing at daybreak the sad sea-waves again, I was up, and down to the beach, hunting for shells. I expected to find TBE FIKST JOUENEY I EVEK MADE. 7 all the pearly and rosy marvels which I had seen in oui County Cabinet of Natural Sciences, profiisely scattered along the sand, and was greatly disappointed to see only a few clams. This did not prevent me from writing a poem entitled : " The First Sight of the Ocean,*' which I thought a very fine production. It never appeared in Graham? s Magazine however (to which I sent it), and is now totally lost to the world. The trip from Amboy to New York made a great im- pression upon me. The beauty of the shores, the breadth of the bay, the movement of the thronging vessels, gave me new and grand ideas of the life of Man, and for the first time I saw the place of my nativity, not as a world around which all other interests revolved, but as an insignificant speck, the existence of which was as unimportant as it was unnoticed. The magic of that first impression has never been weakened. Our stately harbor is to me now, as it was then, a type of the activity of the age, and after years of wandering I never return to it without the old thrill of admiration — ^the old instinct that here, of all other places in the world, is the great arena of labor. I readily found the soda-water establishment, and was joined in the afternoon by my companion. We went out ibr a stroll up and down Broadway. The first thing w noticed was a red fiag, and the voice of an auctioneer sell ing watches. " Oh," said my friend, " here is one of those places where you can get gold watches so cheap. Let us go in!" — and in we went. Two or three fellows, ynth heavy chains at their vests, were bidding upon a silver watch. "Only two dollars — going!" cried the auctioneer B AT HOME AND ABROAD. *'Two and a half!" eagerly shouted my companion. Evi dently the Peter Funks wished to lead him on gently, foi they allowed him to get the watch for four dollars. The earnestness and volubility of the auctioneer amused me, and I could with difficulty restrain my laughter. He, however, put a different interpretation on my merriment, and looked quickly away whenever he caught my eye. Innocent as I was, he must have supposed that I understood the whole business. "Let me see that watch — I'm a watchmaker myself," said one of the heavy gentlemen. He opened it^ examined the works, and said: "It's worn out; it won't go, but the silver is worth something. I'll allow you two dollars for it, and sell you this, which I carry myself, for five." My companion was taken in a second time, and made the exchange. The watch, however, though it was not silver, kept pretty good time for a few weeks. At night, the question was. Where shall we go? It occurred to us, finally, that there was a hotel called the Howard House, not far from John street. The size of the building imposed upon us a little, but we had never heard of more than twenty-five cents being paid for lodging, and went cheerfully to bed. But in the morning our eyes were opened. " Six shillings !" said the clerk, in anwer to our inquiry. " Six shillings !" we both mechanically re- peated, in breathless astonishment. " Yes, that is the regu- lar charge," he replied. We paid the money, in dumb bewilderment, and went around to Gosling's, in Ann street, tor our breakfasts. The next day, our names appeared in the published list of arrivals at the Howard House, and that^ my companion declared, was worth at lea«it four shillings- THE FIRST J0UR2?EY I EYER MADE. 9 At thai time, there were several lines of steamboats on the Hudson, and their competition had reduced the fare to Catskill to twenty-five cents — which was greatly to our advantage. We enjoyed to the fullest extent, the scenery of the glorious river — still, to my eyes, after seeing tat Danube, the Rhine, the Rhone, the Nile, and the Ganges, JnQ most beautiful river in the Avorld. Insensible to the cold wind and occasional showers of rain, we walked the hurricane deck while the splendid panorama of the Pali- sades, Tappan Zee, and the Highlands unfolded on either side. While I was trying to pick out Sunnyside among the villas around Tarrytown, I was accosted by a sharp, keen-looking man, with "Ah, here you are! How are you?" I replied, in some little embarrassment. "Is youi father well ?" he continued, " Quite well, sir." " Is he on board? I'd like to see him." "No, I am alone." "Well, I want to hear something about business. I have my eye on a new speculation. It'll pay mighty well — a sure thing. I think we could manage it very well together." I gave an evasive answer — not knowing whether the man had mis- taken me for some one else, or whether it was another form of the ubiquitous Peter Funk. As soon as possil>le^ I got away from him, and carefully avoided him during the rest of the passage. We landed at Catskill early in the afternoon, shouldered our knapsacks, and set off for the Mountain House. The day had become warm and clear, and the grand masses of the mountains rose before us, clothed in the softest mantle of light and shadow, as if covered with deep-blue velvet, They have never since appeared to me so high, so vast, aTid 10 AT HOME AND ABROAD. SO beautiful. The green pasture-land, over wliich our road lay, with its forests of pine and hemlock, singing in the joy of the spring-time, charmed us scarcely less, and we walked onward in a wild intoxication of delight. After we had travelled about six miles, a country wagon came rattling along behind us. In it sat a short, thickset farmer, with a wife of still ampler proportions. As the wagon approached VIS, he reined in his horses and shouted to us : Get in ! get in ! there's plenty of room, and we're going the same way." We cheerfully obeyed, and were soon on the most intimate terms with the jolly people. " I said to myself, the minute I saw you ! " exclaimed the farmer, with a laugh of intense satisfaction : Here's a couple of farmer's boys, who have just got their corn planted, and are taking a little lark before hay-harvest. I'll help 'em along, that I will !' and you see I wasn't wrong, Sarah ?" — ^turning to his wife. " No, John," said she, " you're always in the right ;" and then whispered to me, who sat on the back seat with her, " I do think my husband's the best man in the world. We've been married now goin' on thirty-six years, and we've never fell out, as other married folks do. No, indeed !" Her broad, happy face, no less than her determined voice, pro- claimed the utter impossibility of such a thing. " IVe got a son, John," she continued " and he's lately mar ried, and gone to keepin' house. She's the nicest little daughter-in-law I ever seen. Why, you wouldn't knoTv but she was our own born child !" The old lady was fairly eloquent in praise of her son's wife. SI e explained to me min iitely how she kept her house in order, how many cowfi Bhe milked, how neat she was, how active, how sa^ang, ho\f THE FIRST J0UK:XEY I EVER MADE. 11 cheerful, and how beautiful. Wliile these confidential dis closures were going on, we had reached a little village at the foot of the mountains. " Law ! " she suddenly exclaimed, " there's my son John ! — John ! John ! Here's two stran- gers we picked up on the road. I've been tellin' 'em abou you and Hannah Jane ! " John, however, who was engaged in the difficult task of dragging along a refractory pig, by a rope fastened to one of its hmd legs, and who looked very warm and vexed, was not so cordial towards us. He nod- ded (here the pig made a bolt.) "Darn that pig ! Are you coming our way, mother ? (Another bolt across the road, followed by John.) I want to speak about that (back again, and off the other side) calf!" Here we judged it best to leave our good friends, and commence the ascent of the mountain. With a hearty shake of the hand, the farmer, who had learned our plans, said : " You won't be far from our house, as you go across to Aithyens (Athens), and you must stop and get dinner with us. Don't forget John ^ whenever you come to these parts again !" We climbed lustily, and just as sunset was fading from the Berkshire Hills, stood on the rocky platform before the Mountain House. Outside of Switzerland, there are few landscapes in Europe of equal beauty ; and this first trium- phant realization of mountain-scenery was all that my boy- ish imagination had painted, and more. The nights weiQ moon-lighted ; and the view of the vast, mysterious deep traversed by the faint silver gleam of the Hudson, as I saw it from my pillow, kept me from sleep for hours. The next day was one of mimixed enjoyment. We climbed the north 12 AT HOME AND ABROAD. and south peaks, visited the Cauterskill Falls, lay on the grass inhaling the odor of blossoming strawberries and the resinous breath of the pines, and indulged in the delicious intoxication of the hour, without a thought beyond. We were the first visitors that season, and possessed the moun tains alone. While sitting on the rocks, I wrote some lines of diluted poetry on a bit of drawing paper, which fell out of my pocket afterwards — as I subsequently disco- vered, to my great regret. Fortune, however, is kinder towards bad poetry than good. The lines were found by a lady, some weeks later, and restored to rae through the columns of the New York Tribune, I have lost better poems since, and nobody picks them out of the dust. On the second morning, we came down to the level of common earth again, and a walk of twenty miles or more brought us to Athens, opposite Hudson, in the evening. Here we slept, and then set off at daybreak, intending to reach Stockbridge that day. But one shower after another delayed us on the road; we got bewildered among the Claverack Hills, and were fain to stop at a farm-house early In the afternoon, to solicit rest and a dinner. The residents were a young couple, still overcome with the pride and hap- piness of their first child. A judicious nursing of the latter, while the mother prepared dinner, no doubt procured for us the best the house could- afford. We had ham and eggs, potatoes, mince pie and coffee (Don't I remember every thing, even to the pattern of the plates ?), and were dismiss- ed with good wishes — the honest young fellow refusing to fcake payment for the meal. This hospitality was well amed, as our resources (mine^ at least) were fast dwindling .w^iy THE FIRST JOURNEY I EYER MADE. 13 I became suddenly conscious that it would be impossible to carry out my plan in all its original grandeur. What was to be done ? We sat down on a bank of damp violets, and held a serious consultation, the result of which was, tliat we turned about, rather crest-fallen, and marched back to Hud- on, where we arrived after dark. The rain the next day justified our decision, and we therefore took the twenty-five-cent steamer to New York. Here I parted from my companion, slept (not at the Howard House, though!), and then set out for Philadelphia. By taking the cars to New Brunswick, and walking thence to Trenton, in time to catch the evening boat to Philadelphia, I managed to make the journey for one dollar, and thereby cheat our Danish State out of her passenger toll. The day was hot, the road dusty, and my spirits much less buoyant than when on the outward tramp, but by hard walking I got over the twenty-eight miles in seven hours. One more day, mostly on foot, and I was at home, trium- phant, with nine cents in my pocket, and a colossal cold in my head. Humboldt once told me : " Travelling certainly increases a man's vitality, if it does not kill him at the start." This was my first moderate essay, at the age of eighteen. And I advise all callow youths who think it an easy matter to tramp over the whole world, to make a similar trial trip, and get their engines into good working-order, before fairly putting out to sea. II A NIGHT WALK. Bmore asking my readers to accompany me across the ocean, in order that we may explore together those out-of- the-way nooks of travel and life, which, because they do not form an integral part of the tourist's scheme, are gene- rally omitted or overlooked (like the closets in a house)? let me recall one more preliminary experience — of trifling import, perhaps, yet it clings to my memory with wonder- ful tenacity. A year after my trip to the Catskills, I was occupied with the preparations for a far more extensive and ambi- tious journey. I found myself at last free, and though the field before me was untried and difficult, I looked forward to it with as light a heart as had carried me across 'Ney9 Jersey and up the Hudson. My preparations were simple enough — ^French and German grammars, a portfolio, and a few ghirts. By the beginmng of June (1844) I was readt A XIGUT WALK* 15 to set out. My cousin — whose intention of visiting Europe had been the cause of precipitating my own plans — was also ready, when another very important need suddenly occurred to us. We had no passports. In the country, where no one lived who had ever been outside of his native land, we were quite unacquainted with any means by which our passports could be procured, except by going to Washington. For my part, I sup- posed that when a gentleman wished to travel, he was obliged to report himself at our national capital and pro- bably undergo a strict examination. There was no help for it — we must make the journey. The distance was more than a hundred miles, and we calculated that, by taking a steamboat from the mouth of the Susquehanna River to Baltimore, we could walk the remainder of the distance \r two days. So, on a fine June morning, we started. The first fifteen miles led through a lovely region of farms and villages — a country of richer and more garden- like beauty than any which can be seen this side of Eng- land. The semi-tropical summer of Southern Pennsylvania and Virginia had just fairly opened in its prodigal splendor. Hedge-rows of black and white thorn lined the road ; fields were covered, as Tvith a purple mist, by the blossoms of the clover ; and the tall tulip-trees sparkled with meteoric ehowers of golden stars. June, in this latitude, is as gor- geous as the Indian Isles. As the hills, however, begin to subside towards Chesapeake Bay, the scenery changes. The soil becomes more thin and sandy ; the pine and the rough-barked persimmons supplant the oak and elm ; thickets of paw-paw — our northern banana — and chirb 16 AT HOME AND ABROAD. capin (a shrub variety of the chestnut) appear in the warm hollows, and barren tracts covered with a kind of scrub- oak, called " black-jack," along the Eastern Shore, thrust themselves between the cultivated farms. Mason and Dixon's line seems here to mark the boundary between lifferent zones of vegetation. The last northern elm waves ts arms to the first southern cypress. As we were plodding along in the heat and dust, having still five miles of our day's work of thirty to perform, we met a curious old man, on foot like ourselves. He was tall and strongly made — an iron frame, whose original vigor was still visible under all the rust and batter of seventy years — with long, grizzly hair hanging over his weather- beaten face, and a pair of sharp, gray eyes. He was, evi- dently, one of the last of those men in whom the lawless trapper-blood of a portion of the first colonists has been transmitted, by inheritance, long after the occupation of the class has passed away. I remember such a one, whose favorite dish was opossum ; who always made his own hat of rabbit-skins; and whose habit of carrying live black snakes in his bosom, made him at once the terror and the admiration of us boys. The old man stopped before us, fixed us with his eye, like Coleridge's Ancient Mariner/' and said, after a moment of keen inspection: ''So, boys, you're starting into the world ? " We assented. ''Well, go on ; you'll get through," he continued ; " but let me give you one bit of advice. I never saw you before, and I'll never see you again; but if you'll mind my words, you won't be the worse for't. You'll get knocked about a good deal, that's sure; hai—fear no devils hut yourselves^ and A NIGHT WALK. 17 you'll come out all riglit." With that, he shook hands with us, smiled in a grim yet not unkindly way, and wei^t on. Doubtless he spoke fi*om bitter experience: he had been his own tempting and tormenting devil. We reached Port Deposit, on the Susquehanna River, ia «eason to take the evening steamer for Baltimore. Them were no other passengers, but we had a dozen or more canal-boats in tow. The sweetness and splendor of that evening will never fade from my mind. It is laid away iu the same portfolio with marvellous sunsets on the becalmed Pacific ; with twilights on the Venetian lagunes ; and with the silence and mystery of the star-lit Desert. The glassy water, reduplicating the sunset, was as transparent as air, and the gentle breeze, created by the motion of the boat, was vital with that sweetest of all odors — the smell of blos- soming grasses on the low and distant shores. Standing on the hurricane-deck, w^e seemed to be plowing through the crystal firmament, steering forth from the fading earth towards some unknown planet. So fair and beautiful seemed to me then the world into which I was embarking — so far behind me the shores of the boyish life I had left. But towards midnight the winds blew and the waves rose. Two of the canal-boats we had in tow broke adrift, and floated away ; and a man, in securing another, had hi finger caught m a noose of the hawser and instantly takei off. We ran into shallow water and anchored, where we lay tossing until morning. So new was all this to me, that I imagmed we had gone through a terrible storm, and was rather surprised to find the captain so cool and uncon- cerned. In consequence of this delay, we did not reach 18 AT HOME AKD ABROAD, Baltimore until the evening of the next day, and as the Bteamer's larder was not provided for such an emergency, our fare consisted of salt meat and black coffee. The cap- tain, however, apologised for his bad luck (the fact of our being bound for Washington seemed to inspire him with great respect), and made no charge for our hard fare. " Let us," said my cousin, as we stepped ashore at Balti- more, " walk on to Ellicott's Mills, which is only eight oi nine miles further, and sleep there to-night. We can theu easily go to Washington to-morrow." This was a prudent proposal, and we started without delay. The sun set, the short twilight faded away, and it was about nine o'clock,^ although not yet wholly dark, when we reached the little village below the railroad viaduct. Tired and very hungry — ^for we had not supped — we halted at the tavern, rejoic- ing that our day's journey was at an end. To our surprise, the house was dark, and the doors locked. After knocking vigorously for some time, an upper window was raised, and a man's head appeared : " What do you want ? " he asked in a surly tone. " We want lodgings. This is a tavern, isn't it ? " said we. " Yes, it's a tavern ; but it's too late now. The law don't oblige me to keep it open after nine o'clock." " Well," we mildly suggested, " it's not so late but you can come down and let us in." " I tell you," he roared, "the law don't oblige me, and Zt/?w'if," — where- upon he slammed down the window, remaining obstinately deaf to our further knocks. This was rather discouraging, especially as everybody in the village seemed to be already in bed. There was nothing to be done but to go on to the next tavern, which — as we A NIGHT WAUS:. 19 learned from a most dissipated man whom we met on thf road (actually out at half-past nine in the evening !) was about three miles further. In spite of the balmy coolness of the summer night, and the cheerful twinkling of constel- lations of fire-flies over the meadows, we were thoroughly wearied out on reaching our second haven of refuge. But our luck was still worse than at the first. All our knocking and shouting failed to provoke a single response. Once or twice we heard a footstep, as if some one were making etealthy observation, and then deep and persistent silence. Thoroughly disheartened, we resumed our painful march. We had proceeded a mile or two lurther, and the time was verging towards midnight, when a blaze of light suddenly streamed across the road, and the sound of music reached our ears. On the right hand, in a grove of trees, stood the mansion of a country gentleman, lighted up as for a brilliant festival. Here, at least, the people are awake," said I. " Let us inqui^^e whether there is any tavern near, where we can get lodgings." We entered the gate and walked up the lawn, towards the house. The windows were open, each one inclosing in its frame of darkness a picture of perfect light and beauty. Young girls, in white ball dresses and with wreaths of roses in their hair, were moving to and fro in the dance, as if swaying lightly on the delicious waves of the music. I had never before seen anything so lovely. It must be a wedding, or some other joyous occasion, I thought ; they will certainly give us a shelter. By this time we reached the portico, which wan occupied by a group of gentlemen. My cousin, addressing himself to the central personage, who w^as evidently tho 20 AT HOME AND ABliOAD. master of the house, said : " Can you tell us, sir, where we can find lodgings for the night ? " If a barrel of powder had been fired and the whole house blown into the air, we could not have been more astonished than at the result ol his question. The person addressed (I will not repeat the word " gentleman ") turned suddenly and fiercely upon us, *' Begone !" he shouted : " Leave the place, instantly ! Do you hear me ? Ofi*!" We were struck dumb an instant ; then my cousin, with as much dignity as his indignation would permit, stated that we Avere strangers, benighted and seeking an inn, and required nothing of him except the few words of information which he could give, and we had a right to expect. A fresh volley of abuse followed, which we cut short by turning and walking away — the other persons having been silent spectators of this smgular inter view. We marched rapidly onward into the night, burning with indignation. If joy gives wings to the feet, anger has an effect no less potent. For two hours, the feeling was strong enough to overcome our sense of exhaustion, but Nature yielded at last. We were tormented by raging thirst, and finding no running streams, were forced to drink from ditches and standing pools, closing our teeth to keep out the tadpoles and water-beetles, The draught created a nausea which added to our faintness. The fire-flies stiT danced over the meadows ; the whip-poor-wills cried froii the fences, sometimes so near that I could almost hav< touched them with my hand, and the air was filled with the silvery film of the falling dew. We sat down on a bank, utterly spiritless and desperate. I proposed sleeping A JMGHT WALK. 21 under a tree, but we feared the dampness of the earth, and after starting and rejecting various propositions, finally decided to try the fences. These were of the zig-zag kind called " worm fences," with stakes at the corners, held down by heavy riders. Selecting the broadest rails, we lay down ; but the first approach of sleep betrayed to us the danger of rolling off such a lofty and narrow perch To sit on a sharp rail fence is not agreeable ; but to sleep, even on a broad one, is still less so. Since that night, I have acquired such a distaste to being " on the fence," that I always take one side of a question at once, at whatever risk of inconsistency. For another hour we dragged ourselves onward, rather than walked. Every minute I caught myself in the act of falling, and once feU before I could recover the balance. About three in the morning we passed a farm-house, in the cattle-yard adjoining which stood two carts. Here was at last a place of repose, as welcome as a couch of eider-down 1 We crept in among the startled oxen, who sniffed and (ffiorted their suspicions of such an unusual proceeding, and lay down in the bottom of the cart-bed. I suppose we slept about an hour, when, finding ourselves stiff and sore-, though a little recruited, we resumed our journey. Tlie morning twilight now came to our assistance, so that we got at least clean water to drink. At sunrise, we were in Rladensburg, and broke our long fiist at a hospitable inn Two hours more, and we were crossing Capitol Hill, having walked forty miles since sunset. Dusty, footsore and faint, we trudged along Pennsylvania Avenue, seeking the boarding-house where the Member of 22 AT HOME AND ABEOAI), Congress from our district lodged. On applying for a room, the hostess looked at us with suspicion, naturally hesitating, until some references which we gave restored a certain degree of confidence. We lay down and instantly fell asleep. The servant roused us for dinner, after which we slept until called to tea. We then went to bed, and slept until the next morning. In the whole course of my subse- quent travels, I have never suffered from fatigue, hunger, and thirst to such an extent as on that night. I have gone without food a day and a half ; without sleep four nights ; have walked two hundred miles in six days, and ridden three hundred and seventy-eight miles in a cart, vrithout pause or rest, but all these experiences, trying as they were, shook my powers of endurance less than the first trial. I remember them with a certain amount of pleasure ; but I never recall my night- walk from Baltimore to Washington without a strange reflected sense of pain. The member from our district (Hon. A. R. McHvaine) kindly accompanied us to the Department of State, and presented us to Mr. Calhoun, whose frankness, simplicity, and courtesy made a profound impression upon me. Our passports were immediately prepared, and given to us. In the Hall of Representatives I felt honored in taking the hand of John Quincy Adams, and hearing a few words of encouragement from his lips. Our member was so in con siderately generous as to purchase five copies of a juvenile volume which I had published, by which means my funds were increased sufficiently to warrant me in returning to Baltimore by railroad. I had had quite enough of the old highway. A NIGHT WALK. 23 We took the same steamer back to the mouth of the Susquehanna, and walked the remainmg thirty miles I reached home after midnight, and entering a bed-chamber through the window, according to my usual custom, threw some guests, who had arrived the day before, into a horrible state of alarm. IIL FIRST DIFFICULTIES WITH FOREIGN TONGUES. I AM frequently asked whether travel in a country, with the language of which you are unacquainted, is not attended with great difficulty and embarrassment. All difficulties, like all dangers, appear far more formidable at a distance than when one is brought face to face with them ; yet a certain amount of experience is always necessary to enable one to encounter perplexities of this kind with that courage and self-possession which take away half their terror at the onset. If all mankind were suddenly deprived of the power of speech, the embarrassment and confusion would be very great for a few days ; but a fortnight would not elapse before government, business, and society would move on in their accustomed courses. On entering a foreign couu try, however, you are only deprived of the faculty of com- prehension. The aids of tone and expression are added to those of signs and gestures, and that unused power ol FIRST DIFFICULTIES WITH FOREIGN TONGUES. 25 interpretation which appears to us marvellously developed in the deaf and dumb, is at once called into action. Thus an imperfect knowledge of a language — especially of the niceties of its pronunciation — is very often a hindrance rather than a help, because it prevents us from using those simple aids which are of universal significance. I once asked Ida Pfeiffer how she managed to communicate with the people in Tahiti, in Persia, Circassia, and other coun- tries where she was unacquainted with the language. Entirely by signs," she answered, until I have acquired the few words which are necessary to express my wants ; and I have never experienced any difficulty in making my- self understood." In Europe the facilities of travel have multiplied so greatly within the last twenty years, that the veriest Cock- ney may travel from London to Vienna and find his own language spoken in every hotel he enters — provided he is able to pay for the luxury. Railroads have not only brought about the abolition of all the real annoyances of the passport system, but they have increased travel to such an extent as to make it, in some countries, the chief source of revenue to the people — who are thus obliged to accom- modate themselves in every possible way to the wants of their customers. But at the time of my first journey abroad, in 1844, this was still far from being the case, and a more minute account of my initiatory experiences than I have yet given, may be of some interest to the monoglot reader. On an August evening, we looked across the British Channel from the summit of Shakspeare's ClifiT. The misty 26 AT HOME AND ABROAD. outline of the French coast rose beyond the water, like tht shore of an unknown world. England can never seem a foreign coimtry to the American ; and hence he cannot thoroughly appreciate and enjoy it until after he has visited the Continent — until his home habits and pre judices have been so far obliterated that he can receive impressions without constantly drawing comparisons. I would advise every one who wishes to derive the greatest advantage from a European tour, to visit England last of all. We were even more excited with the thought of cross« tng the Channel than we had been, a month previous, with the first sight of the Old World. The Ostend steamer which left only three times a week, was to start at four o'clock in the morning, and we took early lodgings at one of the famous (or rather infamous) Dover taverns. There were no "through lines" and "through tickets," as now, when one may pass without detention from Liverpool to the railroad stations nearest Asia. The landlord promised to call us in season for the boat, but his looks did not inspire us with confidence ; and our sleep, tormented with the fear of being too late, was fortunately very broken and disturbed. At three o'clock we rose and dressed by inoonlight. No one was stirring in the house. We waited a quarter of an hour, and then groped our way down-stairs to the coffee-room. Feeling around in the dark, we at last reached the bell-rope and sounded a peal. The echoe rang through the house, but no voice answered, The outer door was double-locked and the key taken away. Just then, we heard the first bell rung on board the PIKST DIFFICULTIES WITH FOREIGN TONGUES 27 ijteamer, and knew that we had but twenty minutes more. The case demanded desperate means, so we distributed our forces and commenced a simultaneous att-acl^ One rang the bell incessantly ; one thumped up and down the staircase with the handle of an umbrella; and the third pounded upon the door of a bedroom which we supposed to be the landlord's. Even this produced no effect : we were caged, to be kept two days longer. At last, the second bell rang — only five minutes more ! Our voices were added to the tumult, and our rage and anxiety found vent in a series of the most dreadful yells. Flesh and blood could not stand this, and presently the landlord made his appearance, in his shirt, rubbing his eyes, and pretending to be just aroused from sleep. I believe nothing but the fear of personal violence induced him to unlock the door. We snatched our knapsacks and rushed down the quay at full speed, reaching the steamer just as the plank was being hauled ashore. The Channel was smooth as glass, and the mild splendor of the summer morning, painting the chalky ramparts of England with a pencil of pink flame, gradually restored our equanimity. At ten o'clock, we ran into the harboi of Ostend. I had learned to read a little French at school, but had never spoken the language, nor was my ear at all familiar with the sound of it. However, there were some other travellers on board, and by carefully watching and following their movements, we complied with the neces. sary regulations regardhig passports and baggage. The train for Bruges did not leave for two or three hours, and we spent the intermediate time in wandering about the 28 AT HOME Am) ABROAD. city, inspecting its ugly, yellow houses, listening to tht queer Flemish dialect, wonut^ring at the clatter of wooden shoes — ^in short, in a general condition of astonishment and open-mouthed observation. At the station, the word "Bruges" was sufficient to procure us tickets; the exhibition of the tickets got our baggage checked; and we set out from Ostend, in high glee at our success. In an hour we were at Bruges, feel- ing a little less confident as we walked away from the sta- tion. Here, however, we were accosted by a sort of shabby valet-de-place, who spoke a few words of English, and offered to guide us through the city for a franc. 1 have not a very distinct recollection of our walk, except of the dim, imposing cathedral (the first mediaeval church I ever entered), and some beautiful altar-pieces, from the pencil of Hans Hemling. I remember, however, that the evening was dark and rainy, and that I began, presently, to feel miserably strange and lonely. The guide informed us that a trekshuyt was to start that evenings on the canal, for Ghent, and we could get passage, including a bed, for three francs. He accordingly conducted us to the dark old barge, and gave us into the captain's care. We left our knapsacks in the cabin ; I went back to the town, in the rain and twilight, to hear the chimes of the belfry in the market-square, while my companions tried their luck in purchasing material for a supper. They could point at the articles displayed in the windows and on the shelves, and offer pieces of money ; but their choice was neces- sarily restricted to what they saw, for they were unable to ask for anything. When we met again, in the low cabin of FIEST DIFFICULTIES WITH FOREIGN TONGUES. 29 the trekshuyt^ they produced a loaf, a piece of powerful cheese, and some raisins and almonds, which constituted out supper. ^ To youth and hunger, however, nothmg comes amiftSj and our meal was a cheerful and satisfactory one. The cabin, whose black timbers made it appear a century old was dimly lighted by a single candle. We were alone in the boat; for, although the hour fixed for our departure was past, neither the captain nor the sailors had made their appearance. Afterw^ards, we retired to rest, in wide, pon- derous berths, containing delicious beds, of the cleanest lavendered linen (of all luxuries on earth, the greatest), and quickly fell asleep. No sound disturbed our slumbers. Only once in the night, opening my eyes as I lay, I saw the dark branches of trees ghding spectrally past the window. In the morning, the shock of the boat striking the pier at Ghent aroused us. By repeating the words chemin de fer^'^ accompanied by an uncertain gesture, the captain comprehended that we wished to know where the railroad station was, and sent a boy to pilot us. There the name of " Aix-la-Chapelle " was again sufficient for our tickets ai^d baggage. Our journey that day was not so agreeable. For economy's sake, we took third-class places, in open cars, which only furnished standing-room. Soon aftei- passing Mechlm, the rain began to fall and a driving storm set in, the violence of which was doubled by the motion of the train. We huddled together under one umbrella, all three wrapped in a Mackinaw blanket, and endeavored to enjoy the beautiful scenery between Liege and Verviers. But, at 30 AT HOME AND ABBOAI>. last, thoroughly chilled and soaked, the romantic element disappeared, and we thought only of reaching fire and shelter. It was nearly night when we arrived at Aix-la- Chapelle. As soon as the light and easy regulations pre scribed on crossing the Prussian frontier had been complied with, we took an omnibus to th Rhine Hotel. (I believe we pointed out the name in the guide-book to the driver.) Here it was necessary to make an effort ; we were wet aa drowned rats, and wanted to dry ourselves. I accordingly said to the head waiter : " Tin chambre de feic ! Nous sommes " wet, I would have added, if I had known what the Frenchmen say when they are wet. " Vbus etes repeated the waiter, pausing for the key-word. " Oui^ nous sommes " there I stuck again, hesitated, and then, grow- ing desperate, seized his hand, and placed it on my coat. Oh! you mean you are wet," said he, in very good English. We had no further difficulty during the remainder of our stay in Aix-la-Chapelle. The next day we took passage for Cologne. We had now entered the German region, and what little French I knew was almost useless. The train was detained for some time at one of the country stations, and we began to feel the want of dinner. Noticing one of the passengers eating a piece of bread and cheese, I said to him, " What is that?'' at the same time pointing to the articles. The words weie 80 much like the German that he understood me, and answered, JBrod und Kdse?'* By repeating this, we were ■ioon supplied with bread and cheese. At Cologne, the word "Bonn" was sufficient to guide us to the Bonn railway station, where we gave oui l>aggage in charge to a FIESl DIFFICULTIES WITH FOEEIGi* TONGUES. 31 porter — pointing out to him on the time-table, the train by which we intended to leave. This left us free to spend the afternoon in wandering about Cologne. At Bonn, that evening, we acquired some new expe» riences. Murray's Handbook recommends the " Golden Star" Hotel as the cheapest on the Rhine ; and thither we accordingly went. It tm-ned out, nevertheless, to be the most styhsh establishment of the kind we had ever patron- ized. The reader must bear in mind that, up to this time, I had been accustomed only to the simplest country-life, and was utterly ignorant of the ways of the world, even at home. When, therefore, I entered the brilHantly-ligbted dining-hall, in order to take some supper, and saw three or four officers seated at a table — all the other tables being vacant — I supposed that theirs^ of course, was the table where supper was served, and, without more ado, seated myself beside them. They must have been utterly astound- ed at this proceeding ; for I still remember the odd, amazed expression of their faces. Really the Germans are a very ill-mannered people, thought I ; and sat there, com- placently enough, until a servant invited me to take a seat elsewhere. We had all been infected by the temperance revival, which, set on foot by the Baltimore Washingtonians, had swept over the United States. We might have tasted wine as small children, but its flavor had been wholly for- gotten, and we looked upon the beverage as a milder sort of poison. When, thei efore, we saw every man with his bottle of Rhenish, we were inexpressibly shocked; still more so, when the servant asked us (in English) what 32 AT HOJ^IE AND ABROAD. wine we should take. The favorite beverage at home then was — and still is, in the West — coffee, even at dinner , and accordingly we ordered coffee. The man hesitated, as if he had not rightly understood ; but, on the order being repeated, brought us coffee, as if for breakfast, with French rolls. He could scarcely believe his eyes, when he saw us place the cups beside our beefsteaks and potatoes. Wo tried the same experiment once or twice afterwards, but were finally driven to taste the dreaded poison of the Rhine. Finding, after a fair trial, that our health did not suffer, nor our imderstandings become confused, we came lo the conclusion that we had been a little hasty in pro- nouncing upon the nature of wine, from the representations of those who had been ruined by whisky. Our next day on the Rhine was a golden one. AU these little embarrassments were forgotten, when we saw the Seven Mountains rising, fair and green, in a flood of sun- shine — when we passed under the ramparts of Ehrenbreit- stein, and heard the bugle-notes flung back from the rock«i of the Loreley. To me it was a wonderful, a glorious dream. I have tried, since then, to recall the magic of that day ; but in vain. I miss the purple tint breathed upon the hills — ^the mystic repose of the sky — the sweetness of the air — the marvellous splendor of the sunshine ; or, perhaps, tho missing note, which alone could have restored the harmony of the first impression, has been lost by me — the ardent inspiration of youth, the light that is once, on sea and land —once, and never again ! I left my companions at Mayence, mtending to visit Frankfort, before proceeding to Heidelberg, where w« FIRST DIFFICULTIES WITH FOREIGN TONGUES 83 designed remaining until we had mastered the Germar. language. My object was to visit Mr. Richard Willis, who was then pursuing his musical studies in Germany. 1 reached Frankfort in an hour, and at once started in search of the American Consul. After inquiring at a great many- shops in the principal streets, I at last found a man wh*" ppoke a little French, and who informed me that the Con fiul resided in the JBelleviie. (In reality, it was the Schom Aussicht^ which means the same thing.) I think I must have walked all over the city, and its suburb of Sachsen- hausen, three times, without finding a SeUevue street. The thought then occurred to me, to select the streets which really commanded fine views, and confine my search to them. Proceeding on this plan, I presently discovered the Consul's house. I had bought some biscuits, at a baker's, for my breakfast ; and, not knowing how else to dispose of them, had put them into my hat. When I was ushered into the consular office, I placed my hat carefully on a table in the ante-room, hoping no one would notice its contents. The old gentleman who then represented the United States, however, persisted in accompanying me to the door — a courtesy I would willingly have dispensed with — and, guided by my own nervous consciousness, made directly for the hat, and looked into it. 'Tis ever thus, from child hood^s hour; whatever you particularly wish to conceal, is sure to be detected. I was somewhat consoled by the re- flection that Dr. Franklin walked through the streets with a sheet of gingerbread under his arm, which was even worse than if he had hidden it in his shovel-brim. With this experience, my special embarrassments ended. 34 AT nOiVLE AND AiiUOAD. Mr. Willis deposited me safely in the eilwagen for Heidel berg, where I remained quietly until I knew enough Ger- man to travel with ease and comfort. Having mastered one language, a second is acquired with half the difficulty ; and I have, since then, had no particular trouble in picking up enough of a strange tongue to express simple and neces- sary wants. The smallest stock upon which you can con- veniently travel, is fifty words ; which a man of ordinary memory can learn in two or three hours. Let me advise others, however, not to fall into the common mistake of imagining that a man is deaf, because he cannot understand you ; neither clip your words, and speak a sort of broken or inverted English, in the hope that it will be more easily comprehended. I have heard of an American, who was looked upon as an impostor in Europe, because he de- clared he came from " 'Mecca," which he thought would be better understood than if he had spoken out, like a sen- sible man, syllable by syllable, the word — " A-MKB-i-cjiu*' IV. A YOUNG AUTHOR'S LIFE IN LONDON. I ERiCHED London for the second time about the middle of March, 1846, after a dismal walk through Normandy, and a stormy passage across the Channel. I stood upon London Bridge, in the raw mist and the falling twilight, with a franc and a half in my pocket, and deliberated what I should do. Weak from sea-sickness, hungry, chilled, and without a single acquaintance in the great city, my situation was about as hopeless as it is possible to conceive. Success- ful authors in their libraries, seated in cushioned chairs and dipping their pens into silver inkstands, may write about money with a beautiful scorn, and chant the praise of Poverty — the "good goddess of Poverty,'' as George Sand, making 50,000 francs a year, enthusiastically terms her — but there is no condition in which the Real is so utterly at variance with the Ideal, as to be actually out of money, and hungry, with nothmg to pawn and no friend to borrow from, 86 AT nOMM AND A-BJlOyVD. Have you ever known it, my friend ? If not, 1 could wish that you might have the experience for twenty-foui hours, only once in your life. I remembered, at last, that during my first visit to Lon- Ion, eighteen months previous, I had lodged a few nights t a chop-house opposite the Aldgate Church-yard. The price of a bed was one shilling, which was within the com- pass of my franc and a half — and rest was even more to me than food. As I passed through the crowd towards Cheap- side and thence eastward to Aldgate, the lamps were lighted and the twiUght settled into a drear, rainy night. In the lighted shops I saw joints of the dark crimson beef of Old England, hams, fish, heads of lettuce — everything fresh, succulent, and suggestive of bountiful boards. Men — the very porters and street-sweepers, even — were going home with their little packages of tea, shrimps, and penny rolls. They all had homes to go to, and no care for the morrow : how I envied them ! At last I reached the end of Aldgate, turned up the alley beside the old church-yard, and entered the chop-house. The landlord was a broad, pursy, puffy fellow, and his wife a tall, keen, aquiline, and determined woman, who deserved a better fate. She was intended by nature for the presi- dency of a Charitable Association. The place had changed proprietors, so that they could not recognise me, as I had hoped. However, as there was a vacant bed, and they did not manifest any special mistrust, I determined to abide with them, and, professing great fatigue, was conducted tc my room at once. It was a bare apartment on the second Btory, containing a miserable bed, an old spinnet, with A YOUNG AUTHOR'S tjitE LN LOUDON. 37 every key broken or out of tune, a cracked looking-glass, and two chairs. The window commanded a cheerful view of the church-yard. In the morning, I took a sixpenny breakfast, and offered a franc-piece in payment. The landlord refused to take it, whereupon I informed him that my funds were all in French coin and I had as yet had no opportunity of procuring English. This 8eem<^d to satisfy him; so I went forth with the hope of procuring employment as a printer. But all my efforts were in vain, and I returned at night, with only two-pence in my pocket, after I had paid for my breakfast. That night I did not sleep much. The crisis had arrived, and if relief did not come the next day, I saw nothing but starva- tion or downright vagrancy (the idea of w^hich was even worse) in store for me. I rose early, so as to get away from the house, before I could be called upon to pay for my bed. After trying various printing-offices, always with the same result, I bought some bread with my two-pence, and, by a singular revulsion of feeling, became perfectly happy and careless. I was young and full of life, and had been disheartened as long as my temperament would per- mit. Nature resumed her rights, and I could not have been more cheerful had my pockets been filled with gold. This buoyancy of spirits was like a presentiment of com- ing good-luck. In the course of the afternoon, I found an American publisher, who gave me instant relief, in the loan of a sovereign; and afterwards, sufficient employment to defray the three shillings a day, which I was obliged to ex- pend. When I returned to the chop-house that night, I paid for my lodgings with an air, I fancy, unnecesj^arily AT HOME AND ABROAD ostentatious; bat not without reason — I had seventeeii shillings in my pocket ! Of course, I was obliged to re- main there — ^for at no better place could I procure a bed at the same price. The chop-house was the resort of actors from some low theatre in Whitechapel, hackmen, sailors occasionally, and pawnbrokers' clerks. I kept aloof from them, taking my chop in a solitary stall, and reading old numbers of the Times or a greasy copy of the Family Herald^ when it was too cold to remain in my room. The people never interfered with me in any way. They respected my silence and reserve ; so I fared better than might have been expected. During the whole six weeks of my stay, I was never asked a personal question. Could the same thing happen in the United States ? Sometimes, in the evenings, the company became boisterous and dis- agreeable, and I would be awakened, late at night, by angry cries and the sound of overthrown chairs and tables The landlord's eyes, next morning, would then be bigger than usual — fi*equently the landlady's, also. The little servant-girl, at such times, would whisper to me, as she brought my boots: "O goody! but didn't master and missus fight last night!" All the criminal trials, even those of a nature not to be mentioned in mixed society, were freely discussed there. In a word., my associations were not of the most respectable character — I was reluc- tantly forced to this conclusion. But how could it be helped ? When a man has but three shillings a day, he c^mnot keep four-shilling society, without cheating some- body. I lodged in a vulgar bole, it is true ; but then, 1 paid my reckoning. A YOUNG author's LIFE IX LONl^OX. oU My only riches, at this time, consisted of a number ol manuscript poems, written at Florence, during the previous autumn. They possessed great merit, in my eyes, and 1 did not see how they could fail to make the same impres fflon upon others. One of the first things I did, therefore was to send three or four to each of the popular magazines — AinswortKs^ Bentley^s^ and Fraser^s — expecting to re- ceive a guinea apiece, at least, for them. But day after day passed away, and the only answer which came, wa.s from the quarter where I had least expected it — ^from Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, the author of " Jack Sheppard," and " Old St. Paul's." The following is his letter, in reply to one which I had written in the hour of my greatest need : "Kensal Manor House, Harrow Road, "March 27, 1846. Snt: 1 returr your poems with reluctance, for I think very highly of them. They exhibit great freshness and vigour, and are certainly above the average of magazine poetry. But, as you conjecture, I am overstocked with both prose and verse — and have more of the latter on hand than I ean use in any reasonable time. ** I should be glad to be of service to you ; and I may, perhaps, be able to Mp you to some employment, through my pi*inter, Mr Charles Whiting Beaufort House, Strand. You can call upon his overseer, Mr. Gusyn, and show him this note ; and if they have any vacancy, and you can offe? yafficient credentials of your respectability and fitness, I am pretty sure my recommendation vrill avail. Under any circumstances, when you have seen Mr. Gusyr, and I hear from him, I would send you aorce rifling assistance. "W. Harrison Ainsworth." This note, friendly, yet guarded (as was proper under the circumstances), reached me after I had succeeded in 40 AT HOME AjSTD ABROAD. obtaining employment with Mr. Putnam, and I never made ase of it. I may add that the assistance Mr. Ainsworth offered had not been solicited in my letter, and therefore^ while it illustrated his kindness, was not humiliating t)out a month, and then returned it, with a polite message. I was advised to try Moxon ; but, by this time, I had sobered down considerably, and did not wash to risk a second rejec- tion. I therefore solaced myself by reading the immortal poem at night, in my bare chamber, looking occasionally down mto the graveyard, and thinking of mute, inglorious Miltons. The curious reader may ask how I escaped the catastrophe of pubUshing the poem, at last. That is a piece of good fortune for which I am indebted to the Rev, Dr. Bushnell, of Hartford. We were fellow-passengers on board the same ship to America, a few weeks later, and I had sufficient confidence in his taste to show him the poem. His verdict was charitable ; but he asserted that no poem of that length should be given to the world before it had received the most thorough study and finish — and exacted from me a promise not to publish it within a year. At the end of that time, I renewed the promise to myself for a thousand years. Mr. Murray received me with great kindness, and I more than once left my den at Aldgate to dine at his storied residence in Albemarle street. At thrs time, I wore broad collar^, turned down — such as I had been accustomed to wear at home — with flowing, unEnglish locks, and I sus pect the flunkeys were puzzled what to make of me. I remember distinctly having purchased a pair of Berlin gloves, which were the cheapest. They were exactly of the kind worn by footmen — but I was entirely innocent of that fact. W alking one day in Hyde Park, with a gentla 12 AT HOME AND ABROAD. man to whom I had been introduced, I put them on ; anfl it never occurred to me, until years afterwards, why he looked at them so curiously, and made such haste to get into a less-frequented thoroughfare. Mr. Murray showed to Lockhart, who was then editor of the Quarterly Review^ a poem which I had written on Powers' statue of " Eve," and that distinguished gentleman sent me an invitation to breakfast with him a few days afterwards. I called for JMurray and walked with him to Lockhart's residence, on Regent's Park. We found there Bernard Barton, the old Quaker poet, and a gentle- man from Edinburgh. Lockhart received me with great cordiality, mingled with a stately condescension. He was then not more than fifty years old, and struck me as being the handsomest Englishman I had ever seen. He was tall and well-proportioned, with a graceful, lordly dehberateness in his movements ; a large, symmetrical head ; broad brow ; deep, mellow eyes ; splendidly cut nose, and a mouth dis* proportionately small. His voice was remarkably rich and full, I was a little overawed by his presence, and he no doubt remarked it and was not displeased thereat. Bernard Barton, however, was a man towards whom I felt histantly attracted. He had a little, round, gray head merry gray eyes, and cheeks as ruddy as a winter apple He was dressed in a very plain black suit, with knee breecnes and stockings, and a Avhite cravat. Lamb, Hazlitt; and his other friends had passed away, and he had almost outlived his reputation — yet was as happy and satisfied as if he had just been made poet-laureate. I afterwards became one of hi& correspondents, and received several delightful A YOUNG AUTHOii'S LIFE IN LONDON. 48 letters from the good little man. Lockhart's daughter— thp daughter of Sophia Scott — ^presided at the breakfast- table. She was a lovely girl of seventeen, just entering society, and bore a strong resemblance to her mother, whose portrait I saw in the library. She was rather tall and slender, exquisitely fair, yet with dark Highland hair and eyes — a frail, delicate character of beauty, which even then foretold her early death. Two years afterwards she mar- ried Mr. Hope, and one of her children is now the only descendant of Sir Walter Scott. The principal topic of conversation at breakfast was the battle of Ferozeshah, the news of which had just arrived, Lockhart seemed quite excited by it, and related several incidents with great animation. We afterwards spent an hour in the library, where I saw the fifty volumes of Scott's rorrespondence, with all the great authors of the world, of his time. Lockhart read with a ringing, trumpet-like voice, from ihe original manuscript, the first draft of Campbell's Battle of the Baltic." He also related to us many par- ticulars of the last days of Southey. I felt aroused and inspired by the sight of such relics and the company of such men, and when I returned to the chop-house that night, to pore over my own despised poems, it was with a savage bitterness of spirit which I had never before felt. My day's walk had been from Olympus to Hades and tlie banks of Lethe's river. Lockhart's kindness emboldened me to make one moru trial. I had still another poem — a story hi four cantos, entitled "The Troubadour of Provence" — written in a Deculiar stanza which I had invented. I copied a tevi 44 AT HOME AND ABJIOAD. pages and sent it to him, desiring his opinion of the form of versification — not without a secret hope that he might be sufficiently impressed with the poem, to assist me in finding a pubUsher. His answer was as follows : ** Dear Sir : No form of stanza can interfere seriously with the effect of good poetry ; but I d not think the labor implied in great complicatios of stanza is ever likely to be repaid. As, however, your poem 13 done, 1 can only bid you God-speed ; and I am sure if it be, as a whole, as good as the Eve, it will have a most encouraging reception here as well as in America^ Bernard Barton lives at Woodbridge, in Suffolk ; and I have no doubt he will be gratified in hearing from you. " Yours, very truly, J. G. LOCKHAST." " Regent's Park, April 7, 1846. This letter, although kind and considerate, was never theless a sufficient hint to me. "The Troubadour of Provence" was finally laid away on the same shelf with " The Liberated Titan,'' and various other aspiring produc- tions of youth. O, the dreams we dream ! O, the poems we wi'ite ! Kind are the hands which hold us back from rushing into print— tender the words which pronounce such harsh judgment on our works ! For a year, we proudly curse the stupidity of our advisers — for ever after wards we bless them as our benefactors. Reader, that knowest, peradventure, how many bad poems I have pub- lished, little dreamest thou how many more worse ones a kio'? fate has saved me from offering thee ! I keep them still, a« a wholesome humiliation ; but they serve a double purpose. They humiliate when exalted, but they encourage wher. depressed. Therefore they have not been written in vain but, thank Heaven, they have o?il^ been written ! A YOU^^G AUTHOB'S UFK IN LONDON. 45 Tliese visits, together with occasional excursions to Chel fea — where, at the house of a brother of Mrs. Trollope, I met with authors and artists — ^introduced a new element into my London life. The chop-house, by force of contrast, became insufferable, yet I could not afford more expensiv odgings. The people were accustomed to my reserve, and respected it : at another place they might be more curious^ And so I remained, to hear the cases of mm. con. racily discussed, to see continual black eyes and swollen noses, and be greeted with the little servant's whispered informa- tion : " Goody ! but didn't they go it !" Besides, among my acquaintances, I boldly avowed where my nightly quarters were, and was gratified to find that it made no difference in their demeanor towards me. In London, a man's character is not so strictly measured by his place of residence as it is in New York. For six weeks I continued to earn, through Mr. Putnam's kindness, sufficient to defray the expenses of hving. By this tmie April was well advanced, a remittance arrived to pay mv passage home, and my companions came on from Paris to join me. One by one, all my hopes of literary success had disappeared, and I speedily forgot them in the joy of returning to America. Yet I doubt whether any fragment of my life, of equal length, has done me equa service. I have seen London several times since then, have found pubUshers kinder, and have associated with authors, without blushing for my place of abode : yet I never visit the great city without strolling down Aldgate, to look upon the windows of the chop-house and the graveyard below, in which lie buried the ambitious dreams of my youth. V. THE ATLANTIC. As far as the no reltj of the thing is concerned, one imgbi IS well write an account of a trip from Canal street to Coney Island, as of a voyage across the Atlantic. The log-books of all manner of tourists have made everybody familiar with the course of incidents from pier to pier : the disappearance of one's native shore and the coming-on of sea-sickness — ^touching emotion and deadly nausea — por- poises and the Gulf Stream — fogs on the Newfoundland Banks — perhaps a whale or a vessel within hail, and then a great blank of blue water, over which the voyager's pen glides with scarce a word of record, till old Mizen Head or Cape Clear comes out of the mist and inspires him with a fresh gush of romantic sentiment. It is not so common, however, for travellers to enjoy the trip, unless in antici- nation or remembrance. For my part, afler considerable experience of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, the Mediter-^ THK ATLA]NTICL 41 ranean, Caribbean, and Gulf of Mexico, I never fully knew the pleasures of sea-life, nor appreciated the endless varietj and beauty of sea-scenery, until I left home, worn in body and overworked in brain, to seek rest and refreshment in traveL The spirit of Work infects our atmosphere : we cannot escape the malady. Our souls are pitted and scarred with it, and there is no vaccination whereby we can avoid the disease. If you once plunge into the stream, you must strike out with the boldest, while breath and nerve remain. There is no such thing as rest inside of Sandy Hook, and I felt no relaxation of the imnatural tension, until the Gulf Stream rolled its tropical opiate between me and the maternal shores. Our country gives us everything, but she exacts everything from us in return. What if we play truant now and then ? what if w^e fly from the never- ending task, to dream a Summer day in the quiet air of Europe, or the lazy languor of the East ? We leave our household gods to aw^ait our return, and we pray that the um which is to hold our ashes may be placed beside them. It was near the close of August when I sailed. There was not a ripple on the glassy water, nor a cloud in the sky, and the Atlantic's sentinels slept at the gates of the bay, as we passed them at iiight-fall. For three or four days we sailed on a tropic sea. The sun came up flaming over the sharp rim of the horizon, wheeled around hie course, and sank broad and clear in our wake. Our gi*eat ship rocked gently to the lazy pulsations of the ocean's heart — a lulling, not a disturbing motion — and we jour, neyed in a serene and perfect repose. " Oh, Rest to weary hearts thou are most dear," sang a spirit shut o it ftoiu 48 AT HOME AND ABROAD. Paradise ; but there can be no deeper rest than that which descends alike on heart, brain, and limbs. One must have whirled for a year or two in the very vortex of our Ame- rican life, to taste the repose of the ocean in its refreshing ftdness : " Duty and Care fade far away ; "What Toil may be we cannot guess • As a ship anchored in a bn.y^ As a cloud at summer noon astray, As water-blooms on a breezeless day— So the heart sleeps, In thy calm deeps, And dreams, Forgetfulness I" With all the monotony of its calm, the tranquil expanse kJ the Ocean is infinitely suggestive. When the land has disappeared, your vessel is a planet wheeling its way through blue ether. But it is a planet of which you are the creator, and at your will its orbit may touch the shores of many distant regions, passing through zones of heat and cold, of light and darkness. During those Summer days, in the Gulf Stream, it seemed to need but a swerve of the prow to bring all the lands of the Old and New Continents with our reach. Cross the distant ridge of the horizon, glide down the watery slope beyond, and you touch the Pillars of Hercules; yonder lies Teneriffe and there th jungles of Senegambia; here on our right, under the noon day eun, are the palms of Hayti, the perpetual verdure of the Antilles. When the fogs of Newfoundland lift like an arch, and a keen northwester comes straight down from Labrador, look to the north, and you will hear in fancy the THE ATLANTIC. 49 hollow booming of the surf in Icelandic fjords and caverns. At least, the sound came to my ear as I was pacing the deck with Mungo Park, and listening to his descriptions of life in the high Arctic region, under the savage shores of Boothia, and among the ice-fields of Prince Regent's Inlet, it was not the ghost of the African traveller that told me these things, but his near relative, the worthy Surgeon of the steamship. One must cross the Atlantic more than once, before his mind can take in a satisfactory idea of its immensity. On my first voyage I could not by any possibility imagine my- self more than fifty miles from shore. The ship went on from day to day, but for all that, there was land just behind the horizon. Even when the sight of the Irish Coast gave me a vivid sense of distance from home, the impression was one of time, not of space. All the Atlantic was embraced m one horizon, sometimes calm, sometimes agitated, but always the same sphere of sky and water. Now it is a grand and beautiful expanse, over which I cannot leap in thought so readily. I must pass great tracts of smooth and gently undulating water ; dark, wintry wastes flecked with wreaths of snow ; fogs that take away all sense of place and time ; and myriads of rolling hills, that flash and foam und sparkle as they lift the vessel, as on the boss of a vast shield, till I can look over the blue convex to its outer edge. Then the alternations of light and darkness, each heightened by the sea, which, spouse of the sky, copies its lightest change; the sunsets, transmuting both water and air; the bright paths trodden by the moon — paths which do not cease at the horizon, but project forward beyond 50 AT HOME AND AfiBOAD. the earth, into the mysterious depths of the heavens Whither do they lead ? At sea, you look on the life from which you have emerged, as one looks from a mountain top on his native town. It is astonishing how fast your prejudices relax after the land has sunk — how the great insignificances in which you have been involved, disappear, as if they had never beerv and every interest of real value starts into sudden distinct- ness. If the brain could work in such a whirl as it must bear during a heavy sea, there would be no such place on shore for the historian and the philosopher. But the stomach, unfortunately, is your petted organ; you must give it your first care. Tour mental enjoyment must be almost entirely of a sensuous stamp. You take in, without stint, the glory of the sea, lose yourself in delicious reverie^ start a thousand tracks of thought which might lead to better and grander truths than you have yet attained ; but you cannot follow them. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is too weak. With such enjoyments as these, and that sense of rest, which was the sedative I most needed, two weeks passed by like two days. There was scarce an apology for sea sickness on board, and not a word of complaint on account of head-winds and rolling seas. Finally, as we were sailing on a cloudless afternoon, some keen eyes among us discerned ound mountain-heads and rocky islands in the air, above the horizon. I half expected to see them melt back again into the vapor, but they stood fast and grew clear in outline, and point came out behind point as we advanced, till we ran under Fastnet Rock in the moonlight, and turned the cor nor of Cape Clear. VL RAMBLES m WARWICKSHIRE. [8EPTEMBEB, 1851.] Few Americans leave Liverpool without visiting Chester As the only walled city in England, dating its foundatioc from the Roman invasion, it is certainly a place of interest, but neither so venerable nor so peculiar in its appearance as I had imagined. I must own, however, that the old tOAvne of the Continent were constantly in my memory during the two or three hours I devoted to its steep streets and winding walls. The only things on which I looked with real interest were the church founded by Ethelred the Saxon, and the crumbling watch-tower from whose top Charles I. watched the fortunes of the battle on Rowton Moor. The walk around the ramparts was charming. Th warm, silvery haze of an English autumn filled the air veiling the more distant of the Welsh mountains, but so^V^n 52 AT HOMJE AND ABROAD. ing the graceful outlines of the nearer hills and toucLing with the gentlest play of light and shadow the Valley of the Dee, over whose waters we hang, while turning the sharp angles of the bastions on the southern side. I took the afternoon train to Shrewsbury. The road asses into Wales soon after leaving Chester, and for many miles follows the hills which inclose the Allen, a tributary of the Dee. The country is hilly, but so varied in its fea tures, so picturesque in the disposition of height and valley, stream and wood, so trim by nature and so luxuriant by culture, that I was ready to regard it as a specimen of land- scape gardening on a magnificent scale. Not a dead bough encumbered the trees ; not a patch of bare soil showed the earth's leanness. The meadows were smooth enough for a fairy's foot ; the streams as tranquil and pellucid, as if only fit " to roll ashore The beryl and the golden ore and the horses and cows in the pasture-fields were appa- rently newly washed and curried. To keep up the impres- sion, at the Wrexham station we found a crowd of Welsh youths and maidens in their holiday dresses, as the great fair had just commenced. At the next station beyond, we passed an excursion train from Shrewsbury, a mile of cars, mostly open, and crammed with delighted children, to whom ^e all waved our handkerchiefs in return for their shouts. The sun dipped his crimson disc behind the mountains, as we looked into the renowned Vale ol Llangollen, in pass- ing — a stately valley, broad at first and rich wdth woods, but narrowing in the distance and lost between the interlocldug EAMBLES IX WARWICKSHIRE. 53 bases of the hills. . Then twilight came on ; the chimney oi a furnace flashed here and there ; white mist gathered along the streams, growing thicker as we reached the Severn, till the chimes of *' Shrewsbmy clock" rang from some invisible station in the air. I had a foggy and ghostly sort of ram» ble in the streets, getting lost in all kinds of dark windings up and down the hill on which the town is built ; so, think- ing it a pity to spoil such an appropriate impression of the old place, I left for Birmingham in the morning. Had it not been for a German pedestrian, who arrived at the " George Fox" just before I left, I liiight have visited the town, so far as my recollection of it is concerned, in the time of Richard III. The face of the country became more monotonous and the soil poorer, as we approached Birmingham. From Wolverhampton, a large manufacturing town, to the latter place, a distance of ten or twelve miles, we passed an unbro- ken range of furnaces, forges and other establishments for the manufacture of iron. Scores of tall chimneys belched forth volumes of red flame and black smoke, like so many flues piercing down to the central fires. Whether fi'om this cause or not, I will not venture to say, but the sky, which was mild and clear, after leaving the fogs of the Severn, be- came dark and lowering, and drops of rain fell at times on passing through this district. Beyond Birmingham, where Agriculture gets the upper hand, we found the sunshine again. The appearance of Birmingham from the railroad viaduct is most uninvitmg. The only relief to the view of number, less blocks of dull red houses, roofed with red tiles, is aflbrded 54 AT HOME AND ABHOAIK by two or three spires and a multitude of fumace-chim neys in the distance. I left the Shropshire train at the sta^ tion, took another for Kenilworth, and in less than an hour eaw the "three tall spires'' of Coventry, that ancient and beautiful city, where, as Leigh Hunt says, "the boldest naked deed was clothed with saintliest beauty." I saw two pictures as I passed : one, the noble Godiva, trembling with shame, yet upborne by her holy purpose, as her palfrey clattered through the hushed streets: the other, an idle poet, lounging with grooms and porters on the bridge, and weaving in his brain the fit consecration of that deed. The branch road for Leamington here left the great high- way to London. It is a kind of railway-lane — a single track, winding by country ways, between quiet hedges, and with the grass growing up to the edges of the rails. Every spare shred and corner of ground clipped from the fields, is a little garden-plot, gay with flowers, and so, with less re- gret than the sentimental reader would suppose, I first saw the heavy pile of ruined Kenilworth from the windows of a railroad car. The castle is more than a mile distant from the station, but an omnibus was in waiting, for passengers. My companion and I, however, preferred a foot-path across the fields, leading to a gate in a wall which formed the outer defence of the place. As it happened we struck on the tilting-ground, the gree^^ level of which we followed to Mortimer's Tower, entering the Castle by the gate «e lected for the reception of Queen Elizabeth. Passing th ancient stables, which now shelter the stock of the farmer who takes care of the property for the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, its present owner we reached the porter's lodge, a RA]VrBLllS IN WARWICKSHIBE. bt castle in itself, and still in admirable preservation. A super- annuated door-keeper admitted us into the grounds and then went to call the guide, who was working in the gar- don. The latter personage, a little man who had grown old m the business, changed his smock-frock for a rusty blue coat, and took us in chaige. He was a proper guide, and so familiar with his points, that I doubt whether he would have piloted the Lord-Lieu- tenant (whom he never named without touching his hat), in any but the regular way. Taking us to the centre of the lawn, where the shattered, ivy-grown front of the Cas* tie rose grandly before us, he pointed out the difierent groups of buildings and gave us the date of their erection. Then he bid us note the thickness of the walls in the Caesar's Tower (the oldest part, built in a remote and un- certain period), after which he led us by a rough path into the dungeon where Edward 11. was prisoner, and then by a well-worn staircase to the top of the tower, whence we looked down on a broad stretch of the loveliest meadow land, dotted with flocks of sheep. " There," said he, " in the Earl of Leicester's time, was a lake two miles long, and all the land you see to the right, sirs, thirty miles from the Castle, was the chase; and down there, where the haw- thorns and crabs is, was the pleasure-garden." " Who owns all the land now?" I asked. "The Earl of Clarendon, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland" (touching his hat), "and he gets £110,000 a year from it; but he never comes anigh it.'' Kenilwoi-th has been described so often, that I shall spare you an ar*count of what w as ouce the banqueting hall, and 56 AT HOME AND ABiiOAD, Queen Elizabeth's dressing-room, looking down on the lake, and the Leicester buildings^ the most ruined of ali though the latest built. All parts of the Castle are mantled with the most superb ivy, thrusting its heavy arms between the shattered mullions, climbing the towers and topping them with mounds and overhanging cornices of dark, brilliant green. I noticed one trunk three feet in diameter. Our guide did not permit us to lose a single feature of the ruin. After finishing the building, he took us the round of the moat wall, and pointed out the most pictu- resque effects. He knew the positions to a hair's breadth, and it was in vain that I attempted to disregard them, must stand with my back to the wall, and my feet in just such a spot. "Now," said he, "look between John o' Gaunt's building and the Leicester building, and you'll catch a nice bit of Caesar's Tower." He could not go wrong, for the ruins are beautiful and imposing from every direction ; they are the crowning charm and glory of one of the most delicious pastoral landscapes in the world. Warwick Castle, only six miles distant, offers a remarka- ble contrast to Kenil worth. Like the latter, the date of its foundation is unknown, and its most ancient part bears the name of Caesar's Tower ; but while Kenilworth is fast tum- bling to pieces, it remains entire, and is still inhabited in every part. The father of the present Earl expended ira mense sums in restoring and improving it. The grounds have been so laid out and planted, that the Castle is not seen from any part of the town, but by walking to the bridge over the Avon, one may obtain a grand view of ita embattled front. The presentation of a card at the porter's TlAMBIJi:> IN WAliWICKSHIBB. 5? lodge was sufficient t j procure us admission. A carriage* road cut through the solid rock, with a fringe of fern and an arch of ehiis high overhead, leads to a narrow lawn in front of the Castle. The only perceptible change in the exterior, is the substitution of a light stone arch for the drawbridge, and the draining of the moat, which is now a trough of velvety grass, with flowering shrubs leaning over it from the sides. The portcullis still hung in the gateway, snarling at us with its iron teeth. The inner court-yard, however, has been turfed over, and a new flight of granite steps leads to the entrance hall, in the southern wing of the Castle. The suite of state apartments in this wing is 333 feet in length, and built with so much precision that when the doors are closed one may look straight through all the key-holes to the further end. We were met at the door by the steward, Mr. Williams, who conducted us through the rooms. The old house- keeper died recently, after having amassed £30,000 from the fees of visitors, the whole of which she bequeathed to the Warwick family. I doubt whether Lord Clarendon will ever receive as a legacy the fees taken at Kenilworth. The state apartments are all that is generally shown, but as a friend of mine, a native of Warwick, accompanied me, the steward took us into the breakla-st-room, though the table was already set for the Earl, and showed us the celebrated Lions of Rubens, several fine V^andykes, and an original por- trait of Sir Philip Sidney, a pale and beautiful face, expresi*- ing true nobility of soul in every feature. We also saw the armory, which is usually closed tc riyitora. It is rich in ancient armor and rare and curious AT HOME AND ABROAD. objects, among which I may mention the crystal hilted dagger of Queen Elizabeth, her shirt of chain-mail, her saddle and the trappings of her horse; but I was most struck with two things : a revolving musket^ more than two hundred years old, and a mask, taken from the face of OKver Cromwell, after death. The revolver (of the anti- quity of which there cannot bo the slightest doubt) is almost precisely similar to Colt's, having a single barrel, to which is attached a revolving cylinder, containing six chambers. There is a flint lock and pan to each chamber, and the firing of one discharge brings the succeeding cham- ber to the barrel. I had been aware of the existence of this curious weapon, but was not prepared to find the idea of a revolver so perfectly developed. The mask of Cromwell was found a short time since in clearing out one of the old chambers of the Castle, where the rubbish had been accumulating for a hundred and fifty years. There can be no doubt of its authenticity. The face is that of Cromwell, too hard and rugged, too terribly inflexible to be mistaken, while the prominence of the large eye-balls in their sunken cavities, the sUght sharpening of the features, and the set rigidity of the grim mouth, show clearly that the mould was never taken from living flesh. Tet there seemed a kind of hard satisfaction in the expres* fiion of the face, as if he had remembered Dunbar at Lis death-hour. Less interesting than this memorable relic, yet more pleasant to behold, is Vandyke's portrait of Charles I. on horseback, filling up the end of a long gallery. The forward action of the figure and the foreshortening of the horse are so admirable tliat you stand ready to return the RAMBLES IN WARWICKSHIEK, 68 saliiti; of the nandsome Cavalier King, when he shall have lidden a few paces further. After we had taken a too hasty glance at the supert paintings on the walls, and the exquisite views of the Avon from the windows, we returned to the porter's lodge, where some other antiquities, not quite so well verified, were exhibited. The portress, a withered-looking little Woman, took her stand in the centre of the room, and went through her part after this wise : — " This here, gentlemen, IS the famous porridge-pot of Guy, Earl of Warwick, as takes forty gallons of rum, forty gallons of brandy, and five hundred pounds of sugar to fill it with punch, and was filled when the present Earl was married, likewise three times and a half when Lord Brooke came of age ; and this is Guy's sword" (I seized and shook it, but forget whether it weighed nine or twenty-one pounds), "and these is the Spanish lady's shoes, as was worn by Fair Phyllis, Guy's wife, and this is the horn of the dun cow Guy killed" (it was a whale's rib !) ; " and these is the boar's tusks he killed and was knighted for; and this is an Indian shield made of buffalo hide, and this is Guy's flesh fork, as he dipped out the pieces of meat with — hrrrr-r-r-r ." Here she stirred up the porridge-pot, ringing such a peal as shook the lodge, and then, fleshfork in hand, stood wait- mg for her shilling. Before leaving, we took a shady path, under larches and Lebanon cedars, to the garden-house in ^^hich stands the renowned Warwick vase. I have seen no vase comparable to this in the blending of perfect grace with the majesty of colossal proportions. The wreathed rine-stalks at its sides, the full vine-bunches and heads of 60 AT UOMS AND ABROAD. the laughing fauns are none the less graceful that they arc magnified beyond nature. But I cannot linger in the beautiful groves of Warwick^ while further down the Avon, girdled by green meadows and embosomed in heavy-foliaged elms and limes, lies happy Stratford, blessed beyond all other villages in all the lands of the Saxon race. On the following morning I clomb to the top of a country coach and was whirled down Warwick Hill, under the gateway of Leicester's Hospital, across a level tract of garden ground, and up a swelling ridge — the summit of which, as we drove along it for several miles, commanded wide views into the heart of Warwickshire — the most charming agricultural region in all England. To the left, beyond the Avon, I saw in the distance the trees of Charlecote Park, the seat of the Lucy family, and the spire of the church where Sir Thomas, of Shakspeare- punishing memory, lies buried. Through alternate groves of elm, oak, and beech, and fields of smooth, fresh mould or smoother turf, dotted with clumps of hawthorn, we descended to Stratford. The coach drew up at the inn of the Red Horse (well known to Geofirey Crayon), and I set out to visit the haunts of Shakspeare. As I knocked at the door of the low, dingy cottage, where even princes must stoop to enter, a curious Enghsh- man, who had just arrived, asked the old woman as she bustled out : " Do you allow anybody to cut a piece off this board ?" at the same time laying his hand on a rude counter whii^h projected into the street from the open shop window. " Bless you," said she, " Shakspeare had nothing to do with that. The batcher who had the house long RAMBl^ES IN WABWICKSHn^B. after him, put that up." In answer to my inquiry whelhei the house had ever been damaged by hunters of relics, she said that the worst instance was that of a party of board- bg-school girls, who asked to be left alone in the room where Shakspeare was born, in order that nothing might iisturb their impression of the spot. After they left, a •arge square block was found to be cut from the mantel- piece. I entered, mounted the crazy stairs, and saw the sacred room. I had a note of introduction from my Warwick friend to the teacher of the Stratford Grammar School, which is the same institution where the boy Shakspeare was taught, and is still held in the same rooms. I found the teacher surrounded by a pack of bright-looking boys, from eight to fourteen years of age. I involuntarily looked in their face« to find something of Shakspeare. It seemed impossible that they should not differ from other children; but as- suredly they did not. They had frank, healthy English faces, but the calm, deep, magnificent eyes that looked down every vista of the marvellous human heart, were not there. The teacher enjoined quiet on them, and stepped out to show us the old desk, in a room on the ground floor. This desk is as old as the time of Shakspeare, and is sup- posed to have belonged to the master of the school. It is a heavy affair of rough wood, such as I have seen in the og schoolhouses of our o^vn country. The top is carved with the initials of the scholars, and they show you a " W. S." which I have not the least doubt was cut by — William Smith. But, notwithstanding, Shakspeare did once stand beside 62 AT HOMK AND ABltOAD. this desk, making painful conquests of " the rudiments/' and perhaps the worn lid I now lift, was once lifted by a merciless " master," to take out the ruler destined to crack the knuckles of William himself. The thing is absurd! ITiink of rapping the knuckles of Jupiter I We can only imagine the babyhood of Shakspeare as Lowell has de scribed that of Jove: " Who in his soft hand crushed a violet, Godlike foremusing the rough thunder's gripe." The teacher kindly obtained us admission into the house and gardens of Mr. Rice, a surgeon, who lives on the site of a house built by Shakspeare, after his retirement from London. The foundations and a single corner wall remain the same, but the house is modern, the garden is changed, and the great mulberry-tree planted by Shakspeare's hand ( under which he took so much pleasure in the sweet sum- mer afternoons), is now only represented by a grandchild — the scion of a scion. Mr. Rice has been offered £100 for the privilege of digging in the cellar of his house, in the hope of finding relics. My last visit was to Trinity Church, on the Avon. The meadows along the river were flecked with soft light and shadow from passing clouds, and the grave-stones in the church-yard were buried warm and deep in thick tui*i* The gardens beyond, hid from my view the road to Shot^ tery, where Anne Hathaway's cottage is still standing. I approached the church under a beautiful avenue of limes : tlie door was open, and a dapper young showman had four Englishmen in tDW. I went at once to the chancel, where BA^IBLES IN WAKWICKSHIRE. OS the bust of Shakspeare looked down upon me from the eastern wall. This bust is supposed to have been copied from a mask taken after death ; Chantrey unhesitatingly de- clared this to be his opinion. One of the eyes seems a littl more sunken than the other, and there are additional in- dications of death about the neck. The face is large, serene, and majestic — not so thin and young as in the Chandos picture, nor with that fine melancholy in the eyes, which suggests to you his Hamlet. In contemplating it, Prospero at once recurred to me. Thus might the sage have looked after he had broken his Avand and renounced his art. And Prospero, one of Shakspeare's grandest creations, was at the same time his last. While I was looking on that wonderful forehead, tho showman rolled up a piece of coarse matting spread upon the pavement, and, stepping off to allow it to pass, I found these lines under my feet : "Good friend, for Jesus* sake forbear To dig the dust inclosed here ; Blest be the man that spares these stonea^ And curst be he that moves my bones." This was the simple and touching inscription dictated by himself. None have incurred the poet's malediction by di». urbing his rest. There is nothing but dust under the ston ow, but that dust was once animated by Shakspeare's souL Thank God that in this irreverent age there are still some spots too holy to profane, some memories too grand and glorious to neglect! I could have knelt and kissed the dusty slab, had I been alone. The profound sadness with 64 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. which the spot oppressed me, was one of those emotions against which the world soon hardens us. Too subtle and precious to be called up at will, they surprise us at times with the freshness of a feeling we had thought exhausted. We walked back to Warwick over the same breezy ridge and in the evening, with our friends, sauntered over the fields to Guy's Cliff. The family were absent, but a house- keeper, flaunting in purple satin, refused to admit us ; so, after watching the sunset build a crimson and golden oriel, at the end of a long chancel of arching elms, facing the west, we descended to the Avon, climbed into Guy's Cave, explored the damp cloisters cut in the cliff, by the brief light of lucifer matches, and closed the evening by a walk to Leamington, which we saw to great advantage by min. gled gas and moonlight. Warwick will always be endeared to me by the recollec- tion of the kind English hospitality I received within its Avails. I was indebted to Frederick Enoch, a young War- wickshire poet, whose volume I had read in America, for two of the most pleasant and memorable days of my travels. Before leaving, we went to see another house, scarcely less interesting than Warwick Castle. Few Americans, I presume, have heard of Charles Redfern, yet there are not many of the English nobility to whom his name and person are not familiar. If any sale of rare and curious furniture, old heirlooms, jewelry, or other objects of virtUj takes place anywhere between the Alps and John o^Groat's house, Redfern is sure to be there. Does any Lord want to make a rare and costly present to his betrothed, any Dowager wish to surpass some other Dowager, in the attractions of RAMBLES IN WA UWICKSUIRE. 65 her boudoii*, it is t o Redfern he or she applies. Red fern who began life with scarce a penny, was Mayor of Warmck, and had a house crammed fi'om top to bottom with the rarest, most unique and superb articles. There is barely room to get up and down stairs, and to pass in and out of the rooms. Tour nerves are in a tingle from the time you enter till the time you leave. Stumble in the en- try, and you will knock down an antique bust; open the door too wide, and you smash a vase of gilded porcelain ; lean too far to the right, and you shatter some urns of agate and amethyst ; to the left, and you break the dressing-case of Charles L Here is Cromwell's mother, taken from life ; th ere a Holbein or a Salvator Rosa ; here jewels that belonged to Marie Antoinette; there the spoils of twenty palaces. The whole collection must be worth at least $75,000. Our friend declared that after seeing Redfern's house, we ought to visit its owner, who was then holding Court in the Town Hall. So we entered the Court-room, where a case of some kind was being tried, in the presence of forty or jSfty spectators. Our friend led the way ; the Mayor, on the bench, made a sign to the attendant policemen. " Make way ! make way !" cried the officials. The people fell back ; the case was suspended, and we walked up to the bench amid the most solemn silence. Mayor Redfern, however who has a frank, ruddy face, which no one could hel] liking, was exceedingly affable, and put us quite at our ease with his first words. We did not suspend justice long . the poUcemen kept the way clear, and we made our exit in state. As we left Warwick an hour afterwards, the specta tors had no chance of being undeceived as to our rank. YIL A WALK FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG, [OOTOBEB, 18G1.] Part I. — The Valleys of the Neckar Am) Kocher. On leaving Frankfort, I decided to take Nuremberg m my route to Vienna. The usual track, via Stuttgard, Ulmj and Munich, was already familiar to me, from having lite- rally measured the whole of it, step by step. There remained, however, for more than three-fourths of the distance, a new route, part of which I had never seon described, and which the guide-books but barely hinted at —that wild, hilly region, lying between Heidelberg an<] Nuremberg, and watered by the tributaries of the Neckat and the Main. This, I imagined, would amply repay the fatigue of a fool-journey and the additional time required to expl6]-e it. With two comoanions, I made the necegsar^i A WALK FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBKBG. 61 outlay for knapsacks, forwarded my heavy luggage by the post to Ratisbon, and left Heidelberg at sunrise, by the little Neckar steamer. The first four miles of our Avay were familiar to me, and in the fresh, cool beauty of the morn- ing, I amused myself by tracing the road on which I tra relied in 1845, weary and foot-sore, and with only twi lireutzers in my pocket. Beyond Neckargemtod, the bold, wooded mountains (now touched with their first autumnal tints) embrace the river more closely, leaving but a narrow strip of greenest turf next the water's edge. The steamer bent and shook as she worked her way slowly up the rapids. Three tall cranes flew before us from point to point, a1 times alighting on the grass to wait our approach. Opposite Neckarsteinach, which, with its four ruined castles, sits in the centre of a semicircle of hills, we saw the old fortress of Dilsberg, crowning the summit of an isolated peak. This place was formerly used as a sort of Stale Prison for the fractious students of Heidelberg. The peni- tentiary system in those days, however, must have been much more lenient than at present; for it is related that when a foreigner of distinction once visited Dilsberg and asked permission to see the fortress, the Superintendent answered that it was impossible to gratify his request, the State prisoners being then on a tour of pleasm-e throiigi the Odenwald, witli the keys in their pockets! The Neckar, beyond this place, presents a succession of charm^ ing landscapes. Folded lovingly in the heart of the moun tains, its waters now mirror the rich foliage of the becdi, ash, and maple, now the dark monotony of the fir, and the open and smiling beauty of the field?? of corn and vine. 68 AT HOME AND ABIIOAD. Tliough not SO rich in historic interest as the Rline, nor sa bold in its features, its landscapes present the same enchant* ing variety, touched with a mellower grace and a tenderer human sentiment. Here there is little to remind one of battle and bloodshed. The quiet villages, nestled at th<^ entrances of yet virgin valleys winding into the hills, are dropping to pieces only by age, and the sombre coloring of the Middle Ages, which they still wear, does no vio- lence to the peaceful repose of the cultivated slopes behind them. Among the passengers on our little craft was a stout French gentleman, whose musical voice and exquisite pro- nunciation of his native tongue attracted me to him. In the course of our conversation he confided to me the fact that he had travelled from Liege to Heidelberg with Lola Montes, and had arrived at the latter place on the previous evening. My Frenchman was extravagant in his admira- tion of that wonderful woman ; he could speak of nothing else. " JSlle est une femme extraordinaire — vraiment ex- traordinaire ! " And he went on to relate to me several curious incidents whereof he was witness. He then pulled out his cigar-case and showed me, carefully laid away in the safest comer, two dehcate white cigaritos which the astonishing Lola had made with her own hands and givcE to him. We passed Eberbach, a fine old town, situated in the lap of a beautiful amphitheatre of hills and overlooked by the loftj Katzenbuckel (Cat's-Back), the highest peak of the Oden wald. Beyond this fehne hump, which is arched in a state of perpetual indignation, the mountains are lower and the A WALK FKOM HEIDELBERG TO NUEJJMBEllG. 69 Wild woods stand back to give place to the vine. At Neekarelz, our little steamer ran her nose against the bank and we jumped ashore on the green turf. Following a road \^ hich led up the valley of the Elz, we passed through the stately town of Mosbach and took a by-way leading over the hills to Mokmuhl, in the valley of the Jaxt. Just as we gained the height, the sun, which had been obscured aU day, broke through the clouds and poured over the landscape such long, golden sunset-lights, that in their splendor the ploughed fields, the acres of turnips and beets, and even the stones piled by the wayside, were glorified and imbued with celestial beauty. But soon the shadows grew longer and cooler, and night came on as we reached a little village called Billigheim, sunk in a deep valley. We found beds at a country wlrthshaus called the " Golden Stag," and took our places in the guests' room, between two tables full of Baden soldiery. The landlord, who brought us our supper, entered into conversation, and I asked him, among other things, whether the castle of old Goetz von Berlichingen was not still standing, near Jaxt- hausen. "Ah, you know him, then!" said he, and his eyes sparkled so suddenly that I was delighted to find so much enthusiasm for the name of Goetz, among his native hills. ^' Of course I know him/^ I replied ; who does not ? " Then you are going to visit him," he rejoined ; ^'but is it true that he is about to enter the Austrian service ? " I made no answer, quite taken aback at being so misunderstood ; but very soon the landlord returned, and lifting his cap, asked; Perhaps the gentlemen would prefer wine of an old vintage?" Of course nothing could 70 AT HOME AND ABROAD. be too good for the friends of Berlichingen. Our suppei which was nearly ready, was delayed in order to be sensed up in such state as the inn afforded, and the landlady, who had rather neglected us, came up with a smiling face and at down to talk about our distinguished acquaintance. And so you are going to visit the Herr von Berlichingen?'' **Tour husband has misunderstood me," I said; "it is not the young Herr that I know, but the old knight, Goetz — the one with the iron hand." — " Ah," said she, " I never saw A^m." However, we were indebted to the grand old Goetz for a good supper, and fresh sheets on our beds : wherefore we blessed his memory. At daybreak next morning, we resumed our knapsacks. It had rained in the night, and the by-road was very slip pery, but after crossing the border into Wtlrtemberg, we found a better path, leading down through forests of beech and oak into the green meadows of the Jaxt. At Mock mfthl, where we stopped for breakfast in a queer old inn, the landlord, finding we were Americans, instantly ran out, * and after a few minutes' absence, brought with him a strong, intelligent young man, who was to leave for 'New York next day, with his wife. He was accompanied by a soldier and an old baiier^ and all three plied me with ques- tions respecting our country, its laws, and institutions. What most troubled the old bauer, was the news which he Had somehow received, that nobody was allowed to sit down in an American inn, but each one must drink his beer standing, and immediately walk out. I gave the young f 2iigrant all the information which I thought would be of §orvico to him. Not only here, but at every place where A WALK FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG. *ll we stopped, many persons had left or were about leaving. The landlord at Mockmuhl said that things were much worse since the Revolution. ''There is no more confi- dence," said he; ''those who have money hoard it up, through fear of more troubles. Money is therefore very scarce, and the poor people suffer. Besides this, the laws are harder upon us than they were; everything goes badly, and nobody is satisfied." After striking the Jaxt, a bold, rapid stream, coursing round abrupt points and through wide amphitheatres of vine-hills, we followed its banks for several miles, passing a succession of emerald meadows, starred with the blos- soms of the colchicum. The views up and down the stream were remarkably lovely. In one place we passed along the sides of a natural amphitheatre, half a mile in diameter. The stone terraces built for the vines might have served for regular rows of seats, from which five hundred thousand spectators could look on the tilting- ground of the beautiful plain below. At Jaxthausen, an ancient and picturesque village on the right bank, we halted to see the Castle of Berlichingen, in which Goetz was bom, and where he spent most of his days. It is a plain, square structure, still retaining its moat and draw- bridge, though the buildings are beginning to show the wear of five centuries. The village magistrate, who was a student at Heidelburg in '45, and knew some friends of mine, gave us admission into the chapel and rittersaal. Ii the former place — a dark, dusty chamber — he showed us a flag borne in the battle of Lutzen, the wooden forks »nd spoons of some of the Crusaders, the sword, stirrups^ 72 AT ROME AND ABROAD. bridle, liattle-axe, and lastly, the Iron Hand of Goetz vob Berlichingen. This remarkable relic has just been restored to the Castle, the family having taken it with them to Ludwigsburg, whither they fled during the Revolution oi 1848. It is a steel hand, of beautiful workmanship, with a gauntlet of the same metal reaching nearly to the elbow, by which it was fitted to the stump of the right arm. The fingers opened and closed by sprmgs in the wrist, which are now useless; the thumb is still perfect, and bends its iron joints with the greatest readiness. With the hand is preserved a portrait on glass of it^ owner — a heavy Saxon face, but firm, true, and resolute enough in its expression for him who was called "The Last of the Knights." After leaving Jaxthausen, we crossed a high and narrow plateau of grazing land, and descended by a wild glen into the valley of the Kocher. For the rest of the day, our road led up the stream, through the most enchanting scenery. For rich pastoral beauty, I know of no valley in Germany surpassing the Kocherthal. Sunk deep be- tween mountains which are covered with vine-terraces tc their very tops, the river has yet no bold and abrupt banks, but wanders with a devious will through long reaches of level meadow-land, green and flowery as in mid-May. Every turn of the hills opened to us a new valley, each with a little town in its centre. These towns^ which occur at intervals of half a league, preserve entire the walls and towers of the Middle Ages, and, to all appearance, no new building has been erected in them for centuries. The Kocherthal lies in the heart of a region A WALK FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG. 73 which is touched by no modern route of travel, and pre- serves, with scarce a change, a faithful picture of Ancient Germany. Towards sunset, we climbed the side of a long hill, whence we could overlook the valley for many a league before and behind us. At our feet lay the town of Kiln elsau, half embosomed in forests which descended from the rugged heights in its rear. The massive white front of a castle belonging to the Prince of Ehringen, rose above the banks of the Kocher, domineering over the dark, pointed gables and mossy roofs of the old place. A mountain stream, leaping from the forests, passes into the streets, roars through an arch under the Rathhaus at the head of the public square, where two flights of stone steps lead down to its bed, and then disappears under the pavement. We saw but little of the town, for it was dark, and we were somewhat stiff from a walk of twenty- five miles. At the " Bell " (to which inn I would recom mend all tourists visiting Kiinzelsau) we found rest and refreshment. We left the Kocher at dawn, and crossed a stretch of cold upland to Langenburg, on the upper waters of the Jaxt, where we breakfasted. The Prince of Langenburg, whose castle crowned a bluff, high above the stream, is a brother-in-law of Prince Albert. This was told me by the landlord, who also showed me a stag's head, with a superb pair of seven-branched antlers. The stag, he said, was the last of all those with which the forests around had formerly been filled. Once it was a common siglit to see groups of eight or ten on the hills ; but that was 74 AT HOME AND ABROAD. before the Revolution of 1848. When the noblemen fled to the fortresses, the deer had no keepers, and were all chased and slaughtered. This stag alone was left, and for two seasons the hunters had been on his track. Onlj two w^eks before they had brought him to bay for the first time, and slain him. Some of his meat was in the house, and I might have a steak served up in princely style iflhked. The rest of the day's journey, for more than twenty miles, lay across a high and somewhat barren table-land dividing the waters of the Neckar from those of the Main. The land is devoted principally to grazing and the more hardy kinds of grain and vegetables, but here and there the road skirts fine forests of fir. The villages, which are rare, are small, and have an aspect of poverty. We learned, too late to take advantage of the information, that the great Fair of Roth-am-See was being held in the meadows of Musbach, not more than a league out of our way. This Fair, which has been held on the same meadow for several centuries, is probably the most peculiar in Germany, as it is frequented principally by the peasants of Suabia and Franconia, and exhibits many curious usages, which else- where have passed away. Late in the afternoon, fitter enduring two or three show- c?rs, we saw, under a dark and gusty sky, the towers of the ^^tjnerable City of Rothenburg. It was apparently built on a rise in the plain, but on approaching nearer, we found that its walls overhung the brink of a deep gorge, at thei bottom of which flows the Tauber, a tributary of th« Main. Even from the little I saw of it on approaching A WALK FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUREAlBERG. It I felt sure it would richly repay a longer tramp than we had made. Everything about it is fresh and unhackneyed. The landlord said we were the first native Americans he ever saw, and requested us to write our names in his book^ at the top of a new lea£ VIII. A WALK FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG. [OCTOBER, 1851.] Part 11. — ^Rothenburg and Nuremberg. RoTHENBURG — the name of which is scarcely mentioned in guide-books — ^is one of the oldest and most remarkable places in all Germany. Founded before the year 800, and till the twelfth century under the dominion of the Counts of Rothenburg, it was for seven hundred years a Free City of the German Empire, having under its jurisdiction one hundred and forty-three villages, and was only incorporated with Bavaria in the beginning of the present century. As the chief city in the old province of Mittel-Franken (Mid- Franconia), it has always been an important place, and through its present isolated position (being at some dis tance from any travelled route), still preserves much of its ancient appearance and character. These facts I learned A WALK FROM HEIDELBEKG TO NUREMBEK». from Herr Wolf, the landlord of the " Golden Stag,'' ^ we leaned out of the rear window of his house, on the evening of our arrival. The inn is built against the city wall, and our window looked down into the deep and rugged gorge of the Tauber. The old fortress of Roth- enburg formerly crowned the very point of the headland, around which the river winds, almost insulating the city, and making it, except on the side towards the table-land, next to impregnable. Herr Wolf first directed our attention to an old house on the headland, which was built in the eighth century. He then informed us that when the Rothenburg knights returned from the Crusades, they were struck with the singular resemblance between the position of the city and that of Jerusalem — a resemblance to which many later travellers have testified. The Tauber, far below us, was the Brook Kedron ; opposite rose Mount Olivet ; further down the gorge was the Pool of Siloam, and directly under us a little chapel marked the site of Gethsemane. Near it stands an old church, now disused, to which, in former times, multitudes made their pilgrimage. The localities were carefully compared with Jerusalem, and a new F?a Dolorosa was made along the sides of the hill, with twelve shrines representing the twelve places where Christ rested under the weight of the cross. I could still trace the path, though the shrines are gone, and the pilgrims come no longer. The ghostly old church is now called the Koboldskeller (Cellar of the Gnomes). The landlord related to me a curious incident connected with the later history of Rothenburg. The city," said he, 78 AT UOAIE AND ABROAD. **was once besieged by Tilly and Wallenstein, but tlid Senate and citizens made such a stubborn resistance tbat it was taken with great difficulty. Tilly was so incensed against the Burgomasters on this account that he ordered them all to be beheaded and the city razed to the ground Nevertheless, they received him and Wallenstein in the great hall of the Bathhaiis^ and had the finest old Taubei wine brought up from the cellar. The Emperor's goblet was on the table, and Tilly drank, and Wallenstein drank, till the liquor softened their iron mood. * You have good liquor,' said Tilly, ' and no doubt good drinkers, too. If any of you ^vill drain this cup (lifting the Emperor's gob- let, which held about seven quarts) he and his comrades shall be pardoned, and I will spare the city.' The chief Burgomaster was already on his way to execution, and there was no time to lose. Thereupon, Herr Nusch, one of the Senate, filled the mighty bowl, and Hfting it to his mouth with both hands, drank it dry, ^dthout stopping to take breath. Tilly was as good as his word. A messen ger was at once dispatched to stay the execution ; and the street where he met the Chief Burgomaster on his way to death, is called the Freudengasse (Street of Joy) to this very day." We tried the Tauber wine with our supper, and foimd it light, pure, and pleasant. Still, I should rather let the headsman be summoned than perform Burgomaster Nusch's feat During the evening, a number of persons called at the inn, apparently to drink beer and smoke, but in reality to see and question the Americans. I did my best, talking in an atmosphere of bad tobacco tiU near midnight, but A WALK FKOM liEIDELBEilG TO NUBKMiJERG. V9 my endurance was not equal to their curiosity. The fact of my having seen California was almost incredible to Lhem. "Really," said a fat Rothenburger merchant, "thia is the most interesting thing that ever happened to me." Early next morning, one of the teachers in the City School called to accompany us through the city. The weather was dull and rainy, and we had only time to visit the principal places. We went first to the Rath- tiaus, passing on our way a quaint building with a richly ornamented gable, in which Sultan Bajazet lodged when on his visit to the German Emperor. The Rathhaus has a stately front in the ItaUan style, a curious winding stair- case, and the dark old hall in which Tilly drank with the Senate. Our conductor led us through many dusty cham- bers to a steep wooden stairway mounting into the tower. After a long journey, we came into a little hot room, nearly half of which was occupied by a German stove. The only inhabitants were an old man and a clock. The former placed a ladder against the ceiling, opened a trap-door, and disappeared through it. I squeezed through after him, felt the rain dash in my face, and then turned away, faint with the giddy view. The sUght parapet around the top of the tower overhung its base, and in the wind and driving mist I seemed swinging, not only over the city, but over the chasm far below it. Beyond this, and across its rugged walls, 1 looked out on the wide sweep of the plain, bounded on the east by a misty range of hills. Sa vageand strange as the landscape A\\as, I had scarcely neiTO enough to boar the sight. The Church, which we visited, dates from the fourteenth 80 AT HOME AND ABIlOAD. century, and its interior is a beautiful specimen of the pure Gothic style. It is in complete preservation, and still contains the altar-piece by Wohlgemuth, master of Albert Durer, and fine carvings in wood by the old sculptor ITerlen. Our conductor was acquainted with a phy ician of the city, who possesses the famous goblet of wl ich 1 spoke, and was kind enough to take us to see it. The Doctor's sister received us cordially, and brought the precious relic from its place of safety. It is an immense glass tankard, about fourteen inches high and six in dia- meter, with paintings of the Emperor, Kings, Electors, and Bishops of Germany. I asked the lady what was the effect of such a draught on Burgomaster Nusch, from whom she was descended. She said that, according %o the account preserved in the family, he slept two days and two nights, after which he awoke in good health, and lived seven years afterwards to enjoy the gratitude of his fellow Burgomasters. As the rain continued, we hired a carriage for 5 florins (about $2), to convey us to Anspach, a distance of twenty- five miles. The road lies through a barren upland, crossed by two or three ranges of hills, covered with forests of fir. The driver informed me that the land was costly in spite of its indifferent quality, and that this year nearly every crop was bad . Wheat is already double the usual price, and the poor people begin to feel the effects of it. Here, too, many were leaving for America, and he (the driver) would go if he had money. Anspach, formerly the residence of the Margraves of Anspach and Baireuth, is a dull town of about ten thou A WALK FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG. 81 sand inhabitants, but has a magnificent Besidenz and gar- dens. While our carriage was getting ready for Nurem- berg, we took a walk in the superb avenues of lindens, now gleaming golden in their autumnal leaves. This park has a singular and melancholy interest from the fact that Caspar Hauser was stabbed here on the 14th of December, 1833. In a lonely corner, hidden by thickets which always keep the place in shadow, we found the monument, a plain shaft with these words, and no more : " ITic occultis occulto occisus esV^ The name — which you always pronounce in an undertone in Germany — ^is not mentioned. And yet, but for the deed here commemorated, Caspar Hauser (ac- cording to the secret popular belief) would have been Grand Duke of Baden at this day. We may well shrink from lifting the veil which covers the mystery of his life, when it conceals a strange and terrible tale of crime. Afe\r paces distant is the monument of the poet Uz, a pillai crowned with his bust. When a child, I read an account of the murder of Caspar Hauser, at the time of its occur- rence, and while standing on the spot, every word of the Btory came back to my memory. If one the German land would know, And love with all his heart, Then let him go to Nuremberg, The home of noblest art." 8c says an old song by Schenkendorf, and so say 1, charmed with the little I have seen of Nuremberg. Nc one knows Germany, who has not visited this place. In 82 AT HOM-E AND ABROAD. Other cities you see the riiins of German Art and Germai life in the Middle Ages ; here you see that Art still pre^ served, that life still ^atal in all its quaint forms and expressions. You are not reminded of the Past, for you live in it. It requires as great an effort to recall the Present, as it does elsewhere to forget it. And the age into which you step, on leaving the Nineteenth Century which has steamed you hither (for the railroad brushes the walls, but dares not pierce them), is not stern or harsh in its aspect. Its ruder outlines are softened, its shadowy places glorified, by the Divine light of Art. With its crooked streets, grotesque, pointed gables, and peaked roofSy wandering into a bewildering variety of outlines, Nurem- berg still ministers to that passion whereof it was once the chosen seat — the love of the Beautiful. Painting, Poetry, and Sculpture once dwelt here, and their sign-manual is Beauty — Beauty in one of her wayward moods, it is true, but none the less dear to those who love her under all her forms. The only objects in Nuremberg that appear old are the tombstones. Albert Durer's house, on the hill, under the walls of the Castle, keeps its rich, red coloring, its steep gable mounting up into a picturesque, overhanging balcony, and its windows of stained glass, as if he were still within ready to welcome his friend WiUibald. As you walk tho streets, you think of him as a living man ; but his slab in the church-yard of St. John is covered with the moss of three hundred years. " 'Tis Death is dead, not he." Over the door of Hans Sachs's dwelling hangs his portrait, with the flowing white beard ?o well befitting the meister-sdnger ; A WALK FROM HiiJDELBEIiG TO NUREMBKJIG. 83 jo^d il' you go there at inid-day, you may partake of a dish of bratwurst which would have furnished Hans with mspi- ration for at least six odes. Li the court-yard of the Castle there is a mighty linden-tree, green and full of lusty leaves, which the frost seems to spare. Seven hundred years ago that tree was planted there by the hand of the Empress Kunigunde. In the church of St. Lorenz, they show you the renowned pyx by Adam Kraft and his two apprentices ; you would think the dust of their chiselling fresh upon it. Contemplate its glorious w^orkmanship ; and if your eyes do not fill with tears — spontaneous tribute to that Beauty which is a perpetual joy, and of pity for its creator, who perished in obscurity and want — ^its stony leaves and bios soms are softer than your nature. The situation of the city is peculiar, and in the highest degree picturesque. It is divided by the river Regnitz into two nearly equal parts, called, from the two grand churches they contain, the Lorenz side, and the Sebald side. The river washes the walls of the houses, and is spanned by a number of bridges, one of which, from its form, is named the Rialto. There is also a Bridge of Sighs, leading to the prison. A number of mill-wheels turn in the stream, which makes its entrance into and exit from the city through arches in the walls. The Sebald side ascends towards the north, and you climb steep streets lined with the houses of the old patricians, to the Castle, which is built on a massive sandstone crag, overhanging the city. The battlements command wide and beautiful views on every side. On the morning of my visit, the sky was clear and soft, and I could see the broad meadows stretoliing 84 AT HOME AND AJJKOAD. away till they met the blue Franeonian mountains in the north-east. Below me yawned the great moat, fifty feet deep and one hundred feet wide, still surrounding the city walls. From the opposite battlement, the city sloped to he river, but rose again from the other side — a mass of {uaint notched gables, sharp roofe, broken with window of every fashion, turrets and Gothic pinnacles, shooting up so thickly that the spires of St. Sebald and St. Loren& seemed but older plants which had been allowed to run to seed. They blossomed naturally fi-om a bed of such archi- tecture. The four round towers of Albert Durer, in theii models the perfection of simple strength, mark the four points of the compass. Beyond them, and over the wall and moat, and scattered buildings outside, spreads the fi'uitful plain of Franconia. I will not attempt to describe in detail the sights of Nuremberg. My time was too short to do them justice, yet long enough to receive some impressions which I sliall never forget. Of course I visited the Rathhaus, and the Picture Gallery, where I was most struck with Albert Durer's " St. Peter ; " and Ranch's bronze statue of Durer himself; and the Beautiful Fountain, a specimen of the purest Gothic, which furnished the idea for Sir Walter Scott's Monument in Edinburgh; and the Little Goose- herd, a cunning fountain, representing a mannikin with two ^eese under his arm ; and the Castle Well, cut three hun dred feet through the solid rock ; and the Gymnasium fonnded by Melancthon, with many other noteworthy buildings and monuments. The church-yard of St. John, outside of the city v/alls, is one of the most remarkable A WALK FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUREMBERG. 8«S cemeteries in Europe. The graves are ranged in rows, and each is covered with a ponderous slab of sandstone, raised on a foundation, and regularly numbered from 1 to about 2,000. They nearly all date beyond the last century, and tsome are so old as to have lost every trace of their original mscription>s. The moss has eaten into their crevices, the sharp corners are rounded and broken, and they lie as shapeless as so many boulders left by the Deluge. Among them I found the resting-place of Diirer, which has been carefully restored ; of Hans Sachs, with a poor specimen of his poetry upon it ; of Peter Vischer, whereon a crown of oak-leaves, cast there many days before, was rotting in the rain ; of Veit Stoss ; and lastly, of the good Willibald Pirkheimer, ever to be remembered as Diirer's friend. A few flowers were growing rankly about the comers of the stones, but so desolated and ruined is the aspect of the place, that even without the prohibition posted up at the entrance of the gate, no one would venture to pluck Ihem. The last visit I made was to the Church of St. Lorenz — the crown of all that Nuremberg has to show. It is one of the largest Gothic churches in Europe, and more impres* sive than any I have seen, except St. Ouen in Rouen, and the unfinished cathedral of Cologne. The nave is 320 feet in length and 86 in height, and finished in a style sc rich and harmonious as to produce the finest possible efiTect. Unlike the minsters of Ulm and Strasbourg, whose impos- ing exteriors promise too much, St. Lorenz startles you with a grandeur you had not anticipated, and you measure with breathless delight the perfect symmetry of the co- lumns, the single arch spanning the nave, and the feeautifu^ 86 AT HOME AND ABROAD. intricacy of the laced and intertwined ribs of the chancel* roof. You follow the guide from pillar to pillar, halting to contemplate the works of Wohlgemuth, of Ddrer, of Vischer, Veit Stoss, and the other cunning artists of that lay ; but wl en you reach the pyx (house containing th sacramental vessels) of Adam Kraft, there you will stop, and thenceforth the church will contain little else worth your seeing. This pyx stands beside one of the pillars of the chancel, and spires upwards Kke a fountain, under the arch, to the height of more than sixty feet. It is of pure white sand- stone, and of the most rare and wonderful workmanship. The house containing the vessels is imbedded in an arbor of vines, forming leafy grottoes, with niches in which stand statues of the Apostles. The Gothic pinnacles which shoot up through this canopy of foliage bud into leafy ornaments at their tops, and bend over and wave downwards like vines swinging in the air. Upwards, still diminishing, rises the airy tracery of the spire, with spray-like needles leaping from every angle, till at the summit, where you expect the crowning lightness of the cross, behold ! the frail stem of stone curves like a flower-stalk, and hangs in the air a last tendiil over the wondrous arbor out of which it grew. Grand Adam Kraft ! glorious old master ! God grant that this beaut iful creation sometimes consoled the bitterness of thy destitute and neglected old age, and that the sacrar ment of that Beauty, of which this was but a faint symbol, hallowed thy dying hour ! Our conductor through the church was a girl of fifteen, whose flushed cheek and frequent cough gave a painfuJ A WAI^ FROM HEIDELBERG TO NUBSMBEEQ. 81 effect to the sad, slow monotone of her voice, while telling us of Adam Kraft, as we stood by his pyx : how he, with his apprentice and journeyman, made it in five years, and received therefor only 770 florins (not $300) ; how th people had no faith in his work, but beheved he had a secret method of softening the stone and casting it into moulds; and how it was examined from top to bottom and proved to be really chiselled. She pointed to the pedestal, in confirmation of the story, and there, sculp- tured with their own hands, the figures of the master and his two associates, kneeling, upbore the weight of the structure. A quaint fancy, but how significant I Adam's eyes are closed, as if with the exertion, and his face expresses that serene patience which only comes from the enthusiasm of the Artist. Here the apprentice and the journeyman, who wrought with an equally devoted pur- pose, have their share of the glory. The master of that day was too pure and single-minded in his devotion to Art, not to be just. There was then no monopoly of Fame in a great name. What would Kraft and Dtirer have thought of the romances of Dumas and the battle-piecea of Vemet? IX. PANORAMA OF THE UPPER DANUBE. [OCTOBER, 1851.] While plodding along the highway from Vienna to Linz, in the summer of 1845, I frequently saw the Danube gleaming to the northward in the lap of its magnificent valley. I crossed it afterwards at Ulm, where it comes fresh from its fountains, and parted from it with my love for its name and associations strengthened by the slight acquaintance. But within the last five days I have sailed four hundred miles on its breast, and felt its might and majesty as never before. It has completely displaced the^ Rhine, which I had held to be without peer among Euro pean rivers; and as this preference is contrary to th? general opinion (probably because one person visits the Danube where ten visit the Rhine), a rapid sketch of the scenery from Donauworth to Vienna may help to justify it PANORAMA OF THE UPPEE DANUBiC. 89 The Danuhe is a lordly river. It does not drip from the edges of the glaciers like the Rhine, the Rhone, and the Po, but gushes at once to life, a lusty stream, in the garden of a Prince, Nor does the flood, in its waxing course, iully the nobility of its birth. One race and one language lone cannot measure its extent, but fi'om its cradle in the Black Forest till it mingles with the Euxine, it draws its waters from Suabia and Bavaria and Franconia ; from the meadows of the Engaddin, in the Upper Alps ; from the hills of Bohemia ; from Tyrol and Illyria ; from Hungary and Servia ; and from the lands of the Turk and the Wal- lachian. Its youth is crystal-clear, rapid, and bears the aroma of the Northern fir ; its old age stagnates in the azy languor of the Orient. It is like one of those Vikings of the eighth century, who went with the frost and fire of Iceland to wallow in the luxury of the Byzantine Court. It hears the hymns of Luther sung in the places where Luther dwelt, and it hears the muezzin call from his mina^ ret the name of Mohammed. But its histoncal interest ! — ^What grander associations than Attila and his Huns, or the Dacians before them! And is not Belgrave's stirring name, and John Sobieski's victory before the walls of Vienna, something to remember? Coeur de Lion's prison looked on the river ; and its waves are still lighted with the splendor of the Niebclungen Lay. What has the Rhine to surpass these ? It has much, to be Bure : a tower on every headland, and a legend to every tower. It sings a legend throughout the length of its Highlands — a powerful melody, like that of the Lorely, Dut no grander strain. The Rliino is legendary ; the 90 AT HOME A>T> AEIlOAn Danube is epio. Its associations have a broad and majes- tic character; they are connected with historical move- ments more vast, and lead us back to more remote ana obscure periods. The stream itself, as 5t flows with a tiill current, now losing its way on interminable plains, now plunging into mountain defiles, where there seems no hope of outlet, has something vague and undefinable in its expres- sion. The ruins which crown its banks are grim and silent; they have lost their histories, or refuse to give them up. The wild woods of the Middle Ages still keep possession of valleys that come down from the mysterious Bohmer-Wald, and as you look up their silent depths, home of the stag and wild boar, you think of the wehr-wolvea with a slight shiver in your blood. But I am giving you the effect of the Danube, before I have shown you its landscapes. Take, with me, an affection- ate leave of Nuremberg. It rains dismally, and the high and barren watershed of Middle Europe, over which the Railroad passes, is fast becoming a quagmire. The plains are drowned with six months of incessant moisture, and the low hills of ragged fir-trees seem slowly sinking into them We pass numerous dull villages and two or three tolerable towns, and after more than fifty miles of such travel, strike an affluent of the Danube, and descend with it through the hills to Donauworth. This town is of no note, except as being the head of navigation on the river. We did not even enter it, but took lodgings in ^'The Crab," which stands by the water-side, and which gave us, without lifting our heads from the pillows, a night-view of the plain towards TJlm, and the swollen flood flashing: in fitful crleanv PANOEAMA OF THE UPPER DANUBK 91 of moonlight. In the morning we took the steamer for Regensburg The arrowy river swmig our bow around with its course, and carried us rapidly onwards, through vast, marshy flats, thickly set with willows, where, at times, we were in as complete a solitude as the untenanted banks of our West- ern rivers exhibit. The current is exceedingly tortuous, and we frequently faced all points of the compass, in going a single league. On the northern side, a chain of rolling hills, the first terraces of the central table-land, sometimes approach the river, but do not add to the amenity of its landscapes. They are covered with a scattering growth of beech and oak, cleared away in places for grain, or planted with lean-looking vineyards; still, there is something fine and bold in their outlines, especially when, on turning a corner, we see the next headland before us, stretching far into the blue distance. On our right appears the Donavn mooSy a morass which fills all our southern horizon. It is drained by 132 canals, but the river is now so high that the current in these sluices flows backwards and fills them. We pass Ingolstadt, a town surrounded by a massive wall, a deep moat, and outworks of most ponderous charac- ter — all as new and shining as the helmets of the Bavarian soldiers on guard. Why this fortification is wanted now, and why it should be built in the centre of a plain, where it commands nothing and protects nothing, is about as clear to me as to the aforesaid soldiers. But before I have fairlv settled the question, we are among the mountains again. Here they are, steep and abrupt ; woods of autumnal brown and purple, relieved by the dark-green of the fir, wave froiu 92 AT HOME AND ABROAD. their precipices of white limestone rock, and soften their outlines against the clear sky. A large white Benedictine cloister, under the shadow of the cliffs, now comes into view: but what is this ? The Danube is at an end, and we are drifting with the furious flood full against a crag two hundred feet in height. A rough image of the Madonna looks out from a niche scooped in the rock, and the crew take off their hats as we shoot past. Lo ! a miracle has been wrought; the terrible wall has been cleft at right angles, and our boat turns so sharply into the narrow strait, that the giddy summit overhangs our deck. Crash! goes a report like the peal of a thousand cannons, but it is only one, which the captain has ordered to be fired for our astonishment. The sound rolls down the chasm, striking heavily on the perpendicular walls, as if the Indian^s Bird of Thunder were caught here, and flapping his wings in a vain effort to escape. He reaches the top at last, and sullenly soars off into silence. Still downwards we speed with the foaming river, almost grazing the sides of our passage-way as we clear its sudden windings, till at length a wider reach in the mountains opens before us, and we take a long breath of relief. All through the canons of the Danube, the rocks are pierced with bolts near the water, from which hang iron rings, used by the boatmen in their slow and difficult ascent. The great plain of Bavaria, extending beyond Munich to the Alps, was evidently at one time the bed of an inland sea, whose waters at last tore this passage through the mountains. The rocks exhibit the same appearances as those of the Rhine at Bingen, and the Potomac at Harper's PANORAMA OF TKJ£ UPPER DANUBE. 93 Ferry, but the pass is much more narrow, rugged, and pecu* liar than either. Beyond it, the mountains give the Danube room, and his vexed current takes a broader sweep, and rolls with a more majestic motion. As we approach Ratis- bon (Regensburg) they disappear from the southern bankj and leave the city seated on the plain. At Ratisbon, which we reached at four o'clock in the af ternoon, we remained the following day, in order to visit the Walhalla. This celebrated edifice, built by the Ex-King Louis of Bavaria, stands on the summit of a hill overlooking the river, about six miles to the eastward of the city. The morning brought with it a dense fog, through which we felt our way to the village of Donaustauf. The Walhalla was not \'isible, but some peasant women showed us a foot- path leading up to a church on the hill. There were shnnes on the way, and we were obliged to step carefully past several persons who were ascending on their knees. Beliind tlie church, the path plunged into a wood of young oaks, redolent of moist autumnal fragrance. After half a mile of gradual ascent, we issued from the trees upon a space of level ground, on which stood the Walhalla, loom- ing grandly through the up-rolling mists. I deem it fortu- nate that my first view \^ as from the summit of the hill, on a level ^dth the base of the building. Seen thus, it will be accepted, without hesitation, as among the most admirable architectural works of modern times. It is closely modelled after the Parthenon, and therefore has not the merit of originality — at least, externally. Its material is white Al- pine marble, brought from tlie Untersberg, where, according to the old legend, Charlemagne sits with his Paladins await* 04 AT HOME AND ABROAD. ing the deliverance of Germany. SchwantLaler's colossal group of the victory of Herman over the Romans, fills the pediment of the northern front, which overlooks a lovely green valley. An allegorical group by the same artist, from designs by Ranch, occupies the southern front, which is raised on vast foundation terraces of masonry, 120 feet in height. The Walhalla stands in the centre of an arc of hills washed by the Danube, and looks beyond his waters and over the plains of Bavaria, to the snowy lines of the Norio Alps. Its position is finely chosen, but the effect of the superb building is painfully marred by the clumsy mass of foundation work on which it stands. The introduction of oblique lines of stairway, which as you descend rise beyond the terraces against which they are built, disturbs the im- posing contrast of the simple uprights and horizontals. The temple itself is dwarfed, and the eye is drawn away from its airy grace and symmetry to rest on the blank, glar- ing, dead-walls which uphold it. The interior is finished in the chromatic style so lavishly employed by the ancient Greeks, and dazzles one with its gilded roof, its mosaic floor, and it9 walls of precious marbles. It forms a single hall, between two and three hundred feet in length and nearlj sixty in height. The walls are broken by two heavy pilaster like projections, on each side, upon which stand statues of the Northern Valkyrie or Fates, holding on their heads the bases of the arches supporting the iron roof. The general impression produced is one of great richness and splendor, with a dash of barbaric extravagance. The fourteen statues of the Fates, upholding the roof, are painted and gilded, and remind one rather too strongly of Dresden china PANORAMA OF THE UPPEK DANUBE. 95 Around the sides of the hall the busts of ninety-eight distin- guished Germans, executed in Carrara marble, are placed on separate brackets, while a frieze of the same material above them, typifies the history of German civilization. The fine harmony of the coloring, the soft gleam of the polished marbles, and the imposing dimensions of the hall, give it an effect which at first bewilders the judgment,. but cannot keep it captive. The Parthenon is not adapted to a German Walhalla. The pure and perfect simplicity of Gre- cian Art does not represent the exuberant German mind, so rich in its fimcy, so subtle in its imagination, so profound and far-thoughted, yet always serious in its expression, always removed from the grace, the poise, the wondrous balance and symmetry of the Greek Apollo. Nor are the natural adjuncts of the temple more fitting. The sombre fir, or even the oak, is too stern to grow in its shadow ; the clouds and storms, the pale sky of the North, are too cold to be its background. It should stand high on a headland, above a sparkling sea, with the blue of a summer noon behind it ; where the spiry cypress might mock its shafts, and the palm hft beside them a more graceful capital. As a great work, the Walhalla is a failure ; as a great copy, we shall accept it, and accord all honor to the patri- otic spirit which consecrates it. The busts are generally well executed, but the six statues of Ranch — difierent embo- liments of Victory, or Triumph — belong to the finest speci- mens of modern art. Half the busts are those of Dukes or Electors, whose names are not familiarly kno\\Ti outside of Gennany; poets, artists, scholars, and composers make ap the other half. Schiller is there ( and fiis head would AT HOME AND ABROAD. iiOt be out of place in the true Parthenon) between Haydn and the dry, contracted, almost idiotic little head of Kant. Goethe, Herder, Lessing, and even Burger, have a place. But I looked with the most lively satisfaction at the head of ljuther, which was at first omitted (Bavaria being Catholic), but which the universal outcry of all Germany forced the King to restore. And not only Luther, but that fiery reformer, XJlrich von Hutten, whose motto, " ZcA hab^s gewagV^ (I have dared it), accompanies his bust. Melancthon is still wanting, though Erasmus finds a place. Ratisbon is a quiet city, with a beautiful old Cathedral and pleasant promenades. I had no curiosity to see the Chamber of Torture under the Rathhaus, in spite of the solicitations of four valets-de-place, who wished to earn a fee by accompanying me. With German caution the porter roused us at four o'clock in order that we might leave by half-past five. We wandered to the boat shivering in the mist, and sat there four mortal hours before the Captain ventured to start. The hills were shrouded, and the Walhalla was invisible as we passed, but soon the Danube wandered out upon a plain, which his current, brimmed to the top of the banks, threatened to overflow. Towards noon the spires of Straubing were close at hand, but so remarkably crooked is the river, that we chasseed backwards and forwards be- fore the iown for nearly an hour, before dancing up to it As we passed under the bridge I thought of the beautifu Agnes Bernauer, the wife of Duke Albert of Bavaria, who was thrown from it into the Danube during her husband's absence, by his savage father's order. Now the blue mountains of the Bdhiner- Wald or Boh^ PANORAMA OF THE UPPER DANUBE. 9T mian Forest; rose on our left, but the high, wooded summits leaned to each other and shut us out from a look into their wild recesses. In one place only they touched the river. Elsewhere a chain of lower but not less picturesque hills kept them in the rear. Soon after leaving the plain we reach Passau, the last Bavarian town, built on a bold height at the junction of the Danube and the Inn. Here we touch for a few minutes, and then start for Linz, as the passengers suppose, although it is late in the afternoon. The scenery is strikingly bold and beautiful. The only dwellings we see are the wooden cottages of the woodmen and the herdsmen hero and there a slope of pasture-ground breaks the mono tony of the unpraned forests. A rosy sunset colors the dis tant peaks of the Bohmer-Wald, and the gorges through which we pass are growhig dark with twilight. A rude vil- lage appears, in a nook of the mountains ; the steamer's gun is fired, and we swing around to the bank and make fast, for the Captain is afraid of whirlpools and other terrors. As we step ashore we are met by beggars and Austrian Custom-House officers. While the latter are politely ex- plaining to us that we must leave all our baggage on board, the church-bell chimes vespers. Officers and beggars take off their hats and stand silent, repeating their prayers. There is a wlrthshaiis on the bank with a landlady as thick as a barrel, who gives us each a double bed (the upper bed nuoh larger than the under) and half a pint of water, to wash our faces in the morning. Our room secured, we go down to the guests' room and order supper. The village magistrate and two ]>riests and a number of Austrian sol- diers, take their ])Iaces ut oui- table, aiid drink larg(» draughts 98 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. of nasty porter," as I heard it called by a cockney in Nu- remberg. The smoke soon becomes so thick, and the to- bacco is of such rank Austrian growth, that we retire to our smothering beds. The steamer^s cannon rouses us at four o'clock; we are off at daylight, sweeping down between the cold, dark mountains, and in spite of two hours' delay, on account of fogs, succeed in reaching Linz by ten o'clock. Nothing could be more gentle and agreeable than the Cus- tom-House and passport examination, soothed as it was by the extreme politeness of the officials. Austria received us as tenderly as a mother would reQeive her returning children ; and so far as concerns her people, we profited by the change* The Southern warmth, the grace and suavity of the Aus- trian character, impress one very pleasantly after leaving the muddy-headed Bavarians. We were obliged to remain till next morning in Linz ; but the soft, warm air, the gay Ita- lian aspect of the streets, and the beauty of the surrounding scenery reconciled us to the delay. Besides, from the parapet of the Schlossberg, did we not hail the airy ranges of the Noric and Styrian Alps ? At last, however, after losing three hours in waiting for the fog to disperse, we are off for Vienna. The sun comes out bright and warm over the thousand islands in the channel of the Danube. We are a motley crew : three Russians ; an American, fresh from Moscow, and on his way to Poland ; a Scotch physician ; an Austrian, whom I take to be a secret spy, because he has a sneaking face, and talks in whispers about Hungary; and a Carmelite monk, who is the very picture of jolly humor and good living. The brisk air and ANOUAMA OF TH£ UPP££ DANUBE. rapid motion give us an appetite, and we are not sorry that dinner is ready at twelve o'clock. Before we have finished three of the ten courses, we notice through the cabin win* dows that we have passed the rich meadow-lands and ^re among the forests and hills. The monk, whose capaciou girdle is getting tight, is anxious we should not lose th best points of the scenery ; and, as we shoot under the Cas- tle of Grein, says hastily : " I think the gentlemen ought now to go on deck.'' We rush up stairs bareheaded, the monk rolls after us, and the rest of the company follow. The Da. nube is shut in among the hills; a precipitous crag, crowned with a ruin, rises in front, and the monk says we shall pass behind it, but we do not believe him. Nevertheless, the current carries us onward hke the wind and we shoot into a gateway scarcely wider than our boat, down a roaring rapid. The crag and the ruin are now behind us, but there are two others in front. Between them the river turns sharply round a ledge of rocks, and boils in a foaming whirlpool. This is the celebrated Wirbel^ the Charybdis of the Upper Danube. Our strong steamer walks straight through its centre, but sUghtly shaken by the agitated waters, and, satisfied that we have done justice to the exciting passage, we go below to finish our dinner. For nearly fifty miles further, our course lies among tlio mountains. From the summit to the water's edge they are mantled with forests, broken here and there by clifis and jagged walls of granite. Somtimes a little village finds place at the entrance of a side-valley, or a grim ruin is held against the sky by a peak which challenges access, but the general aspect is wild, sublime, and lonely. Here, again, I found th(» 100 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. Danube grander than the lihine. Tiie mountains are inft iiitely finer m their native clothing c f forests, rough though it be, than in their Rhenish veneering of vine-terraces, throT^gh which their crags of sterile rock show with the aHe^t of a garment out at the knees and elbows. The hill )t the Danube wear their forests of pine and larch and oak as Attila might have worn his lion's hide. As we pass the magnificent monastery of Molk, our Car- melite talks juicily of the glorious wines in the cellar^ and the good dinners which the Benedictines enjoy within it'»y subterranean drains. They are in some places quite deej and precipitous, and the road winds along on the nar row partition walls between them. [That portion of the railroad which crosses the Karst is a work of immense labor. The descent to Trieste is so steep that the track is carried many miles to the westward, whence it returns in a sharp angle. The wind called the Bora, which blows over the southern edge of the table- land, is at times strong enough to stop the trains, which are often detained several hours from this cause. On the old post-road there are special officials, chosen for their fami- liarity with the wind and its accompanying signs, whose duty it is to inform travellers whether they can pass with safety. When the wind is at its height, it is strong enough to overturn the heaviest wagons, and the officials have then authority to prevent every one from passing. During the Italian Revolution of 1849, a company of dragoons, on their way to Lombardy, w^ere stopped for this reason. The officer, a young fellow with more brag than brains, said, " We are going to beat the rebels, and it is foolish to think the wind can stop us," marched on in defiance of the official warning, and was presently, horse and all, blown off the precipice. Out of the whole company, but sixteen men escaped.] We were very anxious to reach Trieste before dark, but after twelve hours of tedious driving the sun went down and we were still distant. We had heard much of the magnificent view from the crest of the mountains behind the town — a view, which, it is said, takes in the entire curve of the Adriatic, from Venice to the mountain head- THE ROAD FIIOM VIENNA TO TRIESTE. Ill land of Pola. This was nothing, however, to the lazy Carinthian postilion, who scarcely allowed his three horses to stretch their rope traces. The last light of sunset showed us the mountains of Friuli, far to the right, and then we leaned spitefully back in the carriage and dropped the subject. We were deep in criticisms on Jenny Lind voice, when a sudden exclamation from both of us put a stop to the conversation. A dark gulf yawned far below us, half girdling a dusky plain, and just in the centre of the curve sparkled a glittering crescent of lights, branch ing into long lines or breaking into showers of fiery dots This was Trieste, gleaming like a tiara on the forehead of the Adriatic. Beyond it and far to the south, the hills of Istria loomed darkly along the horizon. All else was vague and indistinct in the starlight. The air grewmildei as we descended, and when I walked along the quay on my way to the hotel, hearing the sweet Italian tongue on all sides, I could scarcely believe that the sun was not still shining. Trieste is comparatively a new town, and owes its rise entirely to its commerce. Therefore, though it is clean, bright, and pleasant, the traveller dismisses its edifices with a glance, and finds much more interesting material in the crowds that throng its streets. The Orient is much nearer than at Vienna. The Greek meets you at every turn. The Turk grows familiar, and you make acquaint- ance with the Egyptian, the Albanian, and the fur-capped Dalmatian. The mole is crowded with copper-colored sailors in dirty turbans and baggy trousers. Chibouques are smoked in Lloyd\s Cafe, and newspapers in Hellenic 112 AT HOME AND ABROAD. text cover the tables of the reading room. The Frank and Mussulman are seen cheek by jowl in the arcades of the Exchange, and if you go there at two o'clock your ears will be stunned with the clatter of a dozen different languages. XI. SMYRNA, AND THE GRECIAN ARCHIPELAGO. [OCTOBER, 1851.] # i » The fare from Trieste to Alexandria, by way of Smyrna — a voyage of twelve days — is about $40. This does not include provisions, which cost about 75 cents a day addi* tional. There is a third place for the scum of the earth," so that the second cabin is considered quite respectable, though not aristocratic. It is very neat, tolerably venti- lated, and furnished with berths which are perfectly clean and flealess, though rather hard. As I had already been seasoned to planks, I found them very good. We rose at daybreak and were immediately served with small cups of rich black coffee. At ten o'clock there was a substantial breakfast, and at four a dinner of six courses, both of which meals were accompanied with wine ad libitum — a light, pure Italian vintage, which Father Mathew might quaff 114 AT HOME XNU ABROAD. without endangering the sanctity of his pledge. There was a barrel of the coarser sort on deck, which served the mongrel Greek and Dalmatian sailors instead of a water- butt. Our day wound up with a cup of tea, made in good English style. If one cannot endure such hardships as these while skirting the mountain-shores of Greece and Albania let him stick to his easy chair. Our passengers were brought together from all parts of the earth, and from some odd corners of Society. In the after cabin there was a Greek, of the noble family of Mavrocordato ; the English wife of a Turkish Bey, and a German missionary with an English wife^ bound for Bey- rout. In the fore cabin, there w^ere three Italian singers, going to the Constantinupolitan opera ; an Ionian ; a most ignorant Prussian, bound for Athens, and a Swiss. The deck was occupied by a Jew and his family, on their way to Jerusalem. The man wore a greasy gown of black serge, with a beard reaching to his waist, and the whole family represented to the life Thackeray's filthy Jews to larooard, Uncombed, unwashed, unbarbered." They had a young child, which squalled twice as loud as any uncircumcised infant I ever heard. I recollect once hearing a camp-meeting hymn which commenced What^s become of the Hebrew children I think I could have given information as to the locality of one of the aforesaid children. We pass unnoticed, the distant view of the Dalmatian SMYBKA, AND THE GRECIAN ARCHIPELAGO. 116 coast, which I have since then visited and described. At Corfu, we first touch classic earth. Here Homer has been befoi-e lis, and here \a e may still behold the Phseacian galley which bore Ulysses to his home, transformed into a rock by the vengeance of ISTeptune, in sight of its destined haven. Thence by Leucadia, Ithaca, and the shores of Elis and Arcadia, our keel ploughs illustrious waters. Beyond the si J allow bay of Arcadia, however, our thoughts are recalled to later times : we are in the Gulf of Navarino. The liarbor where the great maritime battle took place is almost excluded from view of the sea by the long island of Sphagia (the scene of Byron's "Corsair"), which lies across its mouth. A short distance further, in passing between the island of Sapienza and the mainland, we run close to the tow^n of Modon, whose massive walls, the memorial of Venetian sway, project into the sea. Another headland brings us to the Gulf of Coron, and to the sight of the sublime mountain peninsula which diiddes this, the ancient Messenian, from the Laconian Gulf beyond. Towards its extremity the Taygetus suddenly terminates, but the narrow strip of Cape Matapan is thrust in advance, like the paw of a sleeping lion, driving its rocky talons into the sea. The aspect of this promontory, which is the most southerr point of Europe, is remarkably grand. The perpendicular walls of dark-red rock which form the cape are several hundred feet in height, and the wild ridges of the Tay« getus rise gradually behind them to an elevation of 7,000 feet. When I went on deck the next morning, we were in the Grecian Archipelago. The islands of Serphos and Siphan 116 AT HOME AND ABBOAB. tos were already behind us; Anti-Paros, Paros, aud Naxos retreated beyond each other, far to the East; the low shores of Delos rose in front, with Mykonos still further oflT, and the hills of Tinos blushed in the sunrise over the aearer coast of Syra. We doubled a rocky cape and entered the harbor, just as the sunshine reached the top of the mountain-cone on which the old city is built. The bril- liant white of the flat Oriental houses, which rise tier above tier up the craggy steep, contrasted finely with the soft morning sky and the perfect ultramarine of the water. It was something more than a sunrise to me; it was the dawn of the Orient. During a day and a half that we lay at anchor there, 1 became quite as well acquainted with the city as I desired. Its Oriental character holds good in every respect — all fair ness without and all filth within. There is but one respect- able street, which you enter on landing — a sort of bazaar, covered with ragged awning, and occupied by the principal merchants. The rest is a wilderness of dirty lanes, barely wide enough for two persons to pass each other, and spread for more than a mile along the mountain-side. You ascend and descend between walls, just too high to prevent your seeing anything, and after much labor, come to a halt in a vile little court, breathing anything but balm, or perhaps on the flat house-top of some astonished Greek. Then you return, picking your steps with much trouble, and try another course, but the twists and turns, the steps here and there and the culs-de-sac so bewilder you, that you finish by finding yourself just where you did not wish to go I tried the experiment twi^e, and after looking in on the BMTRNA, AND THE GEECIAN ARCHIPELAGO. 117 domestic arrangements of half the families in Syra, gave up the attempt. The new town, which contains upwards of 20,000 inhabit* ants, has grown up entirely within the last thirty years. The refugees from other islands, during the Revolution, first built their huts on the shore; afterwards the harbor, on account of its central position in the Archipelago, was made the stopping-place of the French and Austrian steam- ers. It is now a Grecian naval and quarantine station, and has an extensive and increasing commerce with the other ports of the Levant. The town at present exhibits every sign of prosperity except cleanliness. The quay is crowded with sailors, wearing the semi-Turkish dress of the islands, and the traffic in fruit, wood, fish, grain, spices and tobacco is carried on with great briskness. The shopkeepers are busy, the little markets are thronged, and the mechanics who ply their several avocations in their rough way look too cheerfully industrious to lack work. In the ship-yard I counted ten vessels (two of 300 tons) on the stocks, be- sides a number of small craft. Several large and handsome edifices were going up, in addition to the many one-story boxes which the common people inhabit. I accompanied the baritone of our Italian company on a visit to a Greek family of his acquaintance. We found at home an old lady and her daughter, who received us very cordially, and immediately brought us Turkish cofiee, with a little jar of quince jelly. They spoke no language but Greek, the rich, whispering flow of which is not less sweet to the ear, though less crystalline in . They are open thoroughfares, and the cry of " gitardu f is never out of one's ears. Some skill is required to avoid being run over by a camel, knocked down by a donkey, or punched in the head by a perambulating board-pile. The first bazaar I entered is mostly occupied by the Franks^ who have a large display of printed cotton goods, I wasted no time on the red-capped Italian and Greek shopkeepers, but hastened on to the Turkish quarter, where the calm impassive merchants, reclining on their carpets, scarcely put aside the amber mouth-pieces of their chibouks, to reply to a customer. Here the plash of water from the public foun- tains sounds cool and grateful, and the air is impregnated with the subtle and delicate aroma of spices. At the cor- ners stand the venders of sherbet, and near them the smoke ascends from pans of simmering kibabs and various other Turkish dishes, which I was content with beholding. The rich gleam of the silks of Brousa, the Persian scarfs, and the golden fringes and embroidered work displayed in the shops of the Turkish and Persian merchants, was a much less gorgeous sight to me than that of the lazy owners, with their large black eyes, half closed in beatific dreams, over the bubbling narghileh. In the Persian quarter, I saw several beautiful children, but one boy whose face was that of an angel. Raphael's cherubs, in his Madonna di San Sisto, are less divine in their loveliness. If the children of the Moslem Paradise are thus beautiful, I know no artist who would not willingly go there. I also visited the slave bazaar, which is in the Turkish part of the city. The keepers at first objected to my en. trance, but a small backsheesh removed their scruples. 1 BMTBNA, AND THE GBECIAN ABCUU'ICLaGU. 12t was ushered into a court-yard, around which about twenty Nubians lay grouped in the sun — small, thick-lipped, flat- headed creatures, whose faces exhibited a sort of passive good-humor, but not the slightest sign of intelligence. They are the lowest and cheapest kind of slaves, bringing fS:om $50 to $150 each, and are purchased by the Turks for house-servants. The keeper assured me that he would buy provisions for them with the backsheesh, but I have no idea that he kept his word. After dismissing my guide, I took my bearings as accu- rately as possible and plunged into the Turkish quarter, seeking a way to the burial-ground. The further I went from the bazaars, the more quiet grew the streets, and very soon I saw no more Frank dresses. A masked Turkish lady who passed, looked at me steadily with two of the most superb eyes I ever saw, but the next that came drew her mantle over her head and crouched close to the oppo- site wall, so that the unclean Frank might not even brush her garments. As the streets began to ascend the hill, I was at a loss which to take, but climbed the stones at ran- dom, till I reached a fountain. A number of children who were gathered around it, made signs that I should return, and cried out " chJcatch ! chkatch 1 " — which I took to be the Turkish for " dogs ! " since I had not gone a dozen steps further before a whole pack of those animals set upon me and forced me to beat a hasty retreat. I readied the grove of cypresses without further adventure, and sat down to rest on a broken pillar, taken from the ruins of Ancient Smyrna to be the headstone of a Turk. The Turks, unlike the C'hristians, never l)ury one generation ni the ashes of 126 AT HUME AXD AUROXD. another, ami conseqiiently trie burial-ground is always on larging its limits. The tombstones, with their turbaiied ^ops, are innumerable, and the pride of some families, whose names are emblazoned in golden Arabic letters on pillars painted scarlet or sky-blue, is doubly vain and rid. culous amid the neglect and decay which the hoary cy presses have looked upon for many centuries. I climbed the breezy sides of Mount Pagus to the ruintj of the ancient citadel, passing on my way many fragments of cut stone, traces of walls and gateways, which, with some cistems and foundations, are all that remain of the old city. The hill was covered with droves of camels, who lifted their solemn heads from the dry shrubs upon which they were browsing, and looked at me with the same pas- sive faces as their masters. From the crest of Mount Pagus I looked down into the valley of the Meles, on its southern side, and beyond, over the rolling plains that stretched far inland. But the view of Smyrna and its gar- dens, the mountains and the sea, attracted me still more. I sat for hours on a rock, under the battered wall of the castle, without being able to take my eyes from the sublime landscape. I was afterwards told that I ran the risk of being robbed, as the Franks of Smyrna are rather shy of wandering alone among the ruins. I then descended thf; eastern side to the Caravan Bridge, a favorite resort of the Smyrniotes. The banks of the Meles are crowded with coffee-houses, and one may there inhale the perfume of genuine Latakia under the shade of plane-trees and acacia^) SMYRNA, AND THE GRECIAN ARCHIPELAGO. 12 1 The night of our departure from Smyrna we saw Mitj- lene, the ancient Lesbos, and Scio, by moonlight. I saw little except the illuminated outline of Scio, but that alone was beautiful. When I arose at sunrise, the rock of Patmos was just vanishing in the rear, and the blue cliffs of Cos appeared in front. The home of Apelles is rocky and bar- ren, and I could distinguish little sign of habitation on its western coast. But this island, like the other Sporades be tween which we sailed, presents sach an unfailing harmonj m their forms, the sunshine lies so warm and rosy along their sides, the shadows of their peaks are so deeply violet in their hue, and the sea and sky which hold them in their embrace, are so pure and brilliant, that we forget their past glory and their present desolation. Rhodes and Karpathos were the last we saw I they formed the portal of our high- way to Egypt, and they lingered for hours on the horizon, afl if to call us back to the Grecian Isles. XIL A WALK THROUGH THE THURINGIAN FOREST. Had it not been for the Prussian Consul in Constantinople — 2i gentleman whom I never saw, and of whose name I am ignorant — should probably never have visited the Thtirin- gian Forest. The chain of causes, events, and sequences, which is interwoven with a very important portion of my life, reaches back to him and there stops. He is conse- quently responsible for more than he knows, or has ever dreamed of. Trace back any event of your life until you find the starting-point whence you set out upon the track of it — ^the switch^ in railroad parlance, which throws the car of your destiny upon quite anothei Une of rail than you had cho&en for it — and how unnoticed, how trifling, how absurd, frequently, is the beginning! The merest accident (yet who shall dare to say that such things are accidental ?) fre- quently leads a man into his true career, which he might not otherwise have found. T remember to have seen an A WALK THROUGH THE THUEIXGIAN ^OBEST. 129 ingenious genealogy of the American Revolution, whicli was traced back, step by step, to a quarrel about a pig. Zschokke has written a curious double story based upon this singular uccession of causes, in which a poor boy, by throwing flown a dough-trough, attains wealth and rank; while a nobleman of talent and character is reduced to disgrace and beggary, by spilling a bottle of ink. But you ask, how is the Prussian Consul at Constantino- ple responsible for my visit to the Thiiringian Forest ? In this way. A German traveller reached Constantinople in October, 1851, on his way to Greece and Palestine, Having made the acquaintance of the Prussian Consul there, the lat- ter prevailed upon him, at the last moment, to change his plans, and visit Egypt instead. So urgent was he, that he gave the traveller letters to the Consul in Smyrna, who seconded his advice — and it was not until after he had reached the latter place, that the traveller decided to embark for Alexandria instead of the Piraeus. The Lloyd steamer for Egypt was ready to start, and among the last arrivals on board was the German. One of the passengers already on board was an American, bound for the White Nile. A chance remark led to an acquaintance, the two travelled together to the Nubian frontier, and parted under the palm- trees at Assouan, as friends for life. The rest of the chain is easily followed. I promised t3 visit my friend in his Thtlringian home. In August of tha following year I returned from the Orient by way of Ital/ and the Tyrol, and reached Gotha towards the end of Sep- tember. The ten days to which I had limited my staj , previous to leaving for China and Japan, extended t » 130 AT HOME AND AJiKOAD. twenty or more under the influence of true German ho» pitality A part of the entertainment, with anticipatory descriptions of which my friend had often beguiled the Bweet Egyptian twilights, was a journey through the Thtt- ingian Forest. The season had been cold, and the autumn was fast waning at the time of my arrival, so we started in a day or two afterwards. Taking the road to Eisenach, we climbed the hill of the Wartburg, on a sunny morning. The famous old castle, which has since been restored to its ancient condition, as near as can be ascertained, was at that time very dilapi- dated, although still habitable. It is known to us princi- pally from the fact that Luther was sheltered within its walls for a year, and there completed his translation of the Bible ; but to the German it is rich in historical associa- tions. Here lived Elizabeth of Hungary, wife of the Land- grave Ludwig (read Charles Kingsley's "Saint's Tra- gedy"), whose holy charity not only justified her in the utterance of a lie, but procured a miracle to confirm it. Sausages and cold chickens turned to roses in her apron, that her lord might not see and censure her lavish gifts to the poor. Here, also, in 1207, occurred the famous Sdn* gerkrieg^ or Battle of the Troubadours, in which the re- nowned Minnesingers, Heinrich von Ofterdingen, Walter von der Vogelweide, and Wolfram von Eschenbach, took part. Few other spots in Germany shine so brightly in knightly and ecclesiastical story. Luther's room is still preserved in its original bareness and simplicity. A single window looks westward over the wooded hills • a huge stove of earthen tiles, a table, and A WALK THROUGH THE TUURINiJIAN' FOBBST. 181 tome chairs of rough oak, are the only furniture. The famous ink-blotch on the wall is conscientiously renewed every time the room is whitewashed. An original portrait of Luther, his autograph, and the plain suit of armoi which he wore, as " Squire George," are also preserved here. The visitors' book lay open upon the table where he was wont to write. As I approached it for the pur pose of inscribing my name, the last entry on the page (written only the day before) was : " Thomas Carlyle^ in Tjuther^s room^ full of reverence.^'* On visiting the same room, two years ago, I was confronted by a stout, full, bearded, handsome gentleman, who appeared to be very much at home there. Supposing him to be an artist, 1 brushed past him into the room. He looked very fixedly at me ; but artists have a way of examining faces, so 1 paid no attention to it. He was the reigning Duke of Saxe-Weimar. In the armory there is a small but very curious collec- tion of weapons and coats of mail. Among them is that of Kunz von Kaufungen, who carried off the two young princes, progenitors of the Ernestine and Albertine lines of the House of Saxony. The old walls have been replas- tered and adorned ^vith frescoes representing the history of Elizabeth of Hungary, and famous incidents in the Lives of the Landgraves of Thttringia. There is Hermann with his hunters, on the site of the castle, charmed witli the view, and exclaiming: "Wait, mountain, and I'll build a fortress upon you ! " (whence the name Wartburg) ; there Ludwig walks unarmed against the escaped lion, and drives him back to his den ; and there another Land- 132 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. grave, whose name I have forgotten, proudly exhibits liiii means of defence to the German Emperor. When the latter, who was visitmg him, remarked that his castle was without walls, the Landgrave replied : " I will show your Majesty ray walls to-morrow." The next morning, the Emperor was aroused by the sound of trumpets. The Landgrave conducted him to a balcony, whence he beheld the castle surrounded by a triple circle of armed men. " There, your Majesty ! " said he ; "a living waU is the best." Leaving the Wartburg, we wandered down into the deep Marienthal, or Glenmary, a picturesque valley, formed by the junction of two or three narrow dells, A pile of rocks on our left is called the Maiden's Den, from an old tradition that a princess, for some misdeed, was shut up within them, only to be released when some one should say " God bless you ! " twelve times in succession, in answer to her sneezing. As she can only try the experi- ment at midnight, it is needless to say that she is still con- fined there. Once, indeed, a belated knight made the proper response to eleven sneezes, but when the twelfth came, iiis patience gave way, and he uncourteously exclaimed : " Oh ! the devil take you ! " At the end of the valley we entered the Annathal, which is a curious natural split, extending for more than a nile through the mountains. Formerly it was the bed of an impetuous little stream, now bridged over for nearly the whole distance, so that the roar of waters is constantly beneath your feet as you walk between the twisted walU of rook. The foliage of the forest on the summit of tht A WALK THROUGH THE THURINGIAN FOREST. 133 cliflfs completely intercepts the sky ; brilliant mosses covei the moist walls, and fringes of giant fern spring from every crevice. Deep, (x>ol, dark, and redolent of woodland aroma, It resembles a dell in fairyland, and the ferns and harebells were yet vibrating from the feet of the retreating elves, as we pa«sed along. Fresh from the blazing Orient, where the three delights of life are shade, moisture, and verdure, I was enchanted wdth the successive beauties which our semi-subterranean path unfolded. Emerging, at last, upon an open height, we found an inn, with the ambitious name of the Lofty Sun, where we ate fresh mountain-trout in an arbor of clipped lindens. Thence a path of some miles over the hills brought us to the village of Ruhla, famous through all Germany for its meerschaum pipes and beautiful girls. At the inn where we stopped, it was the eve of a wedding-day. The land- lord's daughter, in whom I found the reputation of the village justified, was to be married on the morrow, and the kitchen was fall of rosy damsels, baking and brewing with might and main. The bride — not without a pretty blush — brought us each a glass of wine and a piece of cake, and we, of course, drank to her wedded happiness. But our quarters for the night lay beyond another and higher moun- tain, and the dusk was gathering in the deep valley. Had we not taken a guide, we should have lost our way in the forest. Finally, a sparkle appeared ahead — then a broad flame, gilding the white trunks of the beech-trees, and brightening the gold of their autumnal leave??. The forester was at his post, awaiting our coming, at the ducal hunting lodge on the mountain. The costly timber 134 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. crackled on the bonfire he had made, and the torch of our encampment was seen by many a distant village. There was a supply of beer, potatoes, black bread, and sausage — ^true hunter's f^re — and om- jovial supper was made by the firelight. We talked of Egypt, and the forester listened, only repeating now and then, with hearty emphasis : " To think that it should happen so ! That you two should meet, away in that savage country, and here you are by my fire ! " This was my first acquaintance with the forester, who was the last friend to bid me farewell at Hamburg, on my last return from Europe. We slept on a bed of hay in the lodge, washed our faces in the cold mountain spring, and ate our breakfast by a new fire. During the forenoon our route lay westward over the mountains to Altenstein, a summer residence of the Duke of Meiningen. As we approached the castle, the duke himself — a remarkably handsome man, plainly dressed in a green frock-coat and black felt hat — ^passed us on the lawn. He answered our salutations with a friendly bow. We lingered awhile on the terrace, which commands a lovely view, stretching away over leagues of valley-land to the mountains of the Rhon. In fact, the castle and park of Altenstein occupy the whole of a natural mountain-ter- race, lifted high above the subject lands. The declivity, leading down to the mineral springs of Liebenstein, is interrupted by bold and picturesque formations of rock We visited the Altar, the Basket of Flowers, the Pulpit, and various curious basaltic piles, and finally reaching the Giant's Harp, threw ourselves down on the warm grass to rest. Here, in a narrow, perpendicular deft, between two A WALK THROUGH THE THURINGIAN PC REST. 135 rocky pillars, thirty feet high, wires have been inserted^ ftfter the manner of an ^olian harp. The cleft is closed by a shutter, the opening of which, when there is any breeze, creates a draft sufficient to awake the weird, oracu- ar music. The mountains around loomed softly through golden vapor, as we lay upon the lonely hill-side, gazing on the vanishing blue of the landscape, with lazy, receptive minds, which nothing, it seemed, could either have especially dis- gusted or inspired. Presently a sweet, timorous, penetrat- ing tone grew upon the air, falling and swelling in appeal ing pulsations — then a chorus of many notes, so blended in one delicate breath of harmony that you knew not whether they were sad or jubilant; and finally, gathering '•ourage, the full volume of wandering sound wrapped us ABROAD. reiice to Rome. Chill rain-storms swept the Apennines. 1 plodded wearily along, wet to the skin, and occasionally stopping for shelter at the rude inns frequented by the peasants. I think it was the fourth day of my joui-ney, when I was obliged, by the violence of the storm, to take shelter in a lonely little tavern, somewhere between Arezzo and the Lake of Thrasymene. We (I had one companion ) were kindly received, and placed in opposite corners of the great, open fire-place, to dry our clothes by a bright blaze of brushwood. The family consisted of an old woman, a beautiful girl of twenty, and three children. There were also two men, of middle age ; but it was evident, from the conversation, that they had come down from the neighbor- ing mountains. As the evening closed in, and a dreary rain beat against the windows, they drew nearer the fire ; and the conversation became so animated that I could, with difficulty, catch the meaning of their words. While w^e were taking our scanty supper of eggs, maccaroni, and wine, at a table in the farther corner of the kitchen, I re- marked that their conversation was carried on in whispers, of which I could only detect the words " robbers" and "to- night" frequently repeated. I paid no particular attention to this circumstance, but conversed with the family for an hour or two, as far as my limited Italian would go. The girl had one of those sweet Madonna faces — only with an expression of more passion and less purity — which are not unusual in Italy. Her man- ner towards us was marked by a cheerful friendliness ; but the men were silent and uncommunicative. We went early to bed, being sorely fatigued. There was but cne bed MY SUPERNATURAL EXPERIENCBS. 143 room — a large loft over the kitchen-r-in which were 1 ^ j or three coarse couches. One of these was given to ns twain — the old woman occupying another, and the men a third. Ours stood alone in one end of the loft, opposite the land- ing — which was covered by a hatch — and I took the outer side of the bed, with my face towards the staircase. Over the landing was a single window, in the gable end of the hut, admitting a little light from the sky. I soon fell into a sound sleep, which was not broken when the old woman and the two men crept to their beds. My companion, with his face to the wall, was as insensibLi as a log. Towards midnight, however, I suddenly awoke. Th€ clouds were thinner, and the moon, behind them, shed light enough to enable me to distinguish, though dimly, the objects in the room. The sleepers all breathed heavily and regularly ; and I was about giving myself up to slumbei again, when I heard voices in the kitchen below. Presently the door leading to the staircase was opened, and cautious feet commenced ascending the steps. As the hatch was lifted, and the forms appeared, drawn in black outline against the window, I recognised the young girl, accompa nied by a man whom I had not seen before. There was a moment's pause, while the latter appeared to be looking around the loft, and then I heard the words : " Which are they?" "There!" said the girl, in a low tone; '*but are they really coming?" A Avhispered consultation ensued, of which I could only distinguish that her tones had a character of persuasion or entreaty. At last the man said: "They will be here soon; but I will leave the sign," or •omething to the same effect — for I cannot remember his 144 AT nOMJS AND ABKOAD, precise words. He then approached our bed on tip-toe. I closed my eyes, and counterfeited sleep ; but I felt the light movement of a hand about the head of the bed — and once the tips of fingers touched my neck. The two then with- drew noiselessly to the kitchen. I felt no fear — but an intense curiosity to know the meaning of this. It was too dark to discover what was the sign referred to ; and in half an hour I had forgotten all about it, for I was sound asleep. After two hours, as it seemed to me, I was a second time awakened by footsteps on the stairs. The first mysterious visit immediately recur- red to my mind, and I waited, in great anxiety, for further developments. The hatch was raised, as before ; but this time there were two men, neither of whom appeared to be the former visitor. One of them carried a small lantern, wrapped in a handkerchief, so as almost completely to muf- fle the light. When they turned towards tne bed, I closea my eyes, and imitated the respiration of sleep, lest I should be caught watching. I believe, however, that my heart beat a little faster than usual. I heard stealthy footsteps, inaudible whispers, and then a low exclamation : ^^Here is the sign I The two came to the head of my bed, and ap[)3rently made a cautious examination ; a few more whispers followed, and they retreated down stairs. After they were gone, I opened my eyes, and asked myself: — "la all this real ?" A few muffled sounds came up from the kitchen, and then all was still. There was the window, with its square of dim, stormy sky ; there were the beds, barely visible in the gloom ; and my companion still snored, with his face to the wall. I cogitated long upon this singu MY SUPERNATURAL EXPERIENCES. 145 lar adventure ; but the knowledge that if there had really been any danger to our lives or scanty property, it was now over, quieted my apprehensions — and I finally slept again. When we arose at daybreak, according to our custom, I naturally examined the bed for some trace of the visit; but in the indistinct light I detected nothing. The girl was as calm and cheerful as ever; and though I watched her sharply, I found in her manner no justification of my suspicions. We paid our light bill, and took to the road again, accompanied by friendly " huon viaggios'*'* from all Not till then did I relate to my companion the incidents of the night. He had travelled on the "through train" ol Sleep, without change of cars, and, of course, had seen ana heard nothing. The circumstances were so curious and inexplicable, as to shake a little my own faith in their real- ity. The impression was that of actual fact — every feature distinct and tangible. The figures, the voices, the conver- dation in Italian — which I then knew but imperfectly — were real; and yet the whole occurrence was as improbable aa the wildest adventure of a dream. I am now inclined to believe that the whole thing wag one of those rare pranks which the mind sometimes plays on that border realm between sleeping and waking, when a second of time frequently contains the impressions of years : in other words, that I was really awake with the eyes, and saw the lofl in which I lay ; while tlie mind, excited by tha fragmentary words we had heard at supper, created the rest. In this case, the only thing remarkable about the story would be the coherence ])etween the two visits ; but this coherenm, and you can see him from the window." We thereupon went up to the dining-room on the third story, looked down into the street, and there stood the postman — who, as soon as he saw us, held up % letter at arm's length, holding it by the lower right-hand corner. Though he was in the street, and I in the third Btory, I read my name upon it. I arose in the morning with my head full of the dream* When I was about half dressed, Mr. Willis came into my room, repeating the very words I had heard in my sleep. We went into the dining-room together, looked down, and there stood the postman, holding up a letter by the lower right-hand comer ! Of course I could not read the address at that distance ; but my name was upon it. In this case, the circumstances were altogether beyond my control ; and the literal manner in which the dream was fulfilled, in every minute particular, is its most astonishing feature. Nothing was added or omitted : the reality was a daguerreotype of the vision. Never before had my friend entered my room at so early an hour — ^never before had the postman held up a letter in that manner. If a coincidence only, the occur- ence is therefore all the more marvellous. When I was last in Florence, the sculptor Powers related to me a still more remarkable story, which had come to pass only a few days before my arrival. A young English iady of his acquaintance, who was living with her brother in the city, was on terms of great intimacy and afifection with a lady of her own age, who was spending the summer with her father in a villa among the Apennines, near Pistoja. This friend had invited her to visit her during the giumner i MOBE OF THB SUPERNATUBAL, 159 ghe had accepted the invitation ; and the middle of August was fixed upon as the time. Three weeks before, however, the young lady had a remarkable dream. It seemed to her that the day of her departure for the villa near Pistoja had arrived. Her trunk was packed ; and early in the morning, a very curious old carriage drove to the door to receive her. The vetturino slung her trunk to the axletree with ropes — a disposition of baggage which she had never before seen. She took her seat, and for several hours jour- neyed down the vale of the ArKO, noticing the scenery, which was entirely new to her. Several trifling incidents occurred on the way, and there was a delay occasioned by the giving way of the harness ; but towards evening she reached the Apennine villa. As the carriage approached the buildmg, she perceived ttie father of her friend standing in the door, with a very troubled countenance. He came foiward, as she was pre- paring to ahght, laid his hand on the carriage door, and said : " My daughter is very ill, and no one is allowed to see her. To-night is the crisis of her fever, which will decide whether she will recover. I have made arrange- ments for you to spend the night in the villa of Mr. Smith yonder ; and pray heaven that my daughter's condition will permit you to return to us to-morrow!" Thereupon he gave directions to the vetturino, who drove to Mr. Smith s villa. The host received her kindly, ushered her into a broad entrance-hall, and said : " I will endeavor to make you comfortable for the night. That will be your room," j)ointing to a glass door, with green curtains, at the end o/ the hall. Here her dream suddenly stopper.. AT HOME AND ABROAD. The next morning she related the whole story to her bio- ther. For a few days afterwards, they occasionally referred to it ; but as she received information that her friend was in excellent health, she gradually banished from her mind the anxiety it had caused her. The day fixed upon for het ourney at length arrived. What was her astonishment, when the identical queer old carriage of her dream drov^ up to the door, and her trunk was slung by ropes to the axletrce! This was the commencement; and during the whole day everything occurred precisely as she had already seen it. Towards evening, she arrived at the villa near Pistoja ; and the father of her friend stood in the door, with H troubled countenance. He came forward, repeating the intelligence of his daughter's illness in the same words, and ordered the vetturino to drive to the villa of Mr. Smith. The excitement and alarm of the young lady had been continually on the increase; so that, when she finally reached the broad entrance-hall, and Mr. Smith said, " I will endeavor to make you comfortable for the night. That will be your room" (pointing to the glass door with green curtains), her nerves, strung to their utmost tension, gave way, and she fell upon the floor in a swoon. Fortunately, there was no ground for superstitious fore- bodings. The crisis passed over happily, and the very next day she was permitted to nurse her convalescen friend. Here the dream, in all its details, was narrated three weeks before its verification — thus setting aside any ques- tion of the imagination having assisted in the latter. It is one of the most satisfactory examples of second-sight I bav« MORE OP THB SUPERNATURAL. 101 ever heard of, and this must be my justification for giving it to the world. I cannot close this chapter, without giving one more authentic ghost story — to which, in ray opinion, the same explanation will apply as to those I have related in the pre- ceding article. A gentleman (permit me to withhold his name, station, and the date of the occurrence) was once travelling in the interior of Sweden. On a raw evening, in October, he arrived at a large country-town, where a fair was being held. All the inns were full, and he found it no easy matter to obtain lodgings for the night. He was weary, from a long day's journey, and after applying at thb third or fourth inn without success, announced to th^ landlord his determination to remain there, with or without a bed. He procured some supper, smoked his pipe in the guests' room, and finally, feeling inclined to sleep, demanded jO be shown some place where he could lie down. " Have you no sofa, or bench, or bundle of hay vacant ?" he asked the landlord. " No," said the latter — " not one ; but — " here he hesitated — " there is a room with a bed in it, in a small house at the back of the court., only " — dropping his voice to a whisper — "the place is haunted; and nobody dares to spend the night there." "Oh! if that is all,'' laughed the traveller, " give me the room at once. I don't believe in ghost or demon ; and, besides, I'm far too tired to be troubled with anything of the sort." The landlord still hesitated, as if doubtful whether he should expose his stubborn guest to such dangers; but, finally, gave orders to have a fire made in the ill-omened room, and fresh sheets | ut upon the unused bod. Taking his 162 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. saddle-bags on his arm, and his sword in his hand, the tra- veller followed the servant across the court-yard, and entered the building. The room was low and bare, the windows closed by shutters, whose rusty bolts showed that it was long since they had been opened. A ruddy fire of pine wood was blazing on the raised hearth, in one cor- ner, but there was no furniture, except a narrow bed and two chairs. The servant, having placed the candle on one of the chairs, made haste to leave ; but the traveller detained him a moment, saying ; " You see my sword — and here are two pistols, loaded and capped. If anything disturbs me in the night, man or ghost, I shall immediately fire upon it. Unless you hear a shot, leave me alone." He did this, from a sus- picion that the ghost might be some person connected with the inn, who, for purposes of his own, was concerned in banishing all nightly visitors from the house. After the servant left, the traveller heaped more wood on the fire, carefully examined the windows and door, and after locking the latter, suspended the heavy key upon the latch, in such a manner that the least movement would cause it to fall. He then undressed, with the exception of his trowsers, placed the chair with the candle at the hea^] of the bed, the pistols under the pillow, and lay down, with his sword beside him on the bed-clothes, within reach of his hand. He then blew out the candle, and composed himseU to rest. As he did not feel the slightest fear or trepidation he soon fell into a sound sleep. About midnight, he was suddenly awakened by a feelinj like that of a rush of cold wind over his face. Opening hi eyes he found the room quiet as before ; but the candle bj MOBB OF THS SUFEBNATURAL. 163 his bedside was burning. He distinctly recollected having extinguished it, but nevertheless persuaded himself that he must have been mistaken — ^got up, threw more wood on the fire, examined the doors and mndows, and, after having' returned to bed, snuffed the candle short, that there might be no mistake this time. Half an hour afterwards he was again awakened by the same rush of cold wind. The candle was burning once more! This inexplicable circumstance made him feel excited and uneasy. He extinguished the candle, and resolved to lie awake, and see whether it would be lighted a third time. Another half hour had elapsed, and his heavy eyelids had closed, in spite of all his struggles to keep them open, when the rush of wind returned, more violent than before. The candle was not only relighted, but a tall figure, clothed in a long, heavy gown, with a hood falling forward so as to conceal the face, stood in the centre of the room. An icy chill ran through the traveller's frame. He attempted to seize his sword and pistols, but his frame seemed paralysed, and his arms refused to obey the direction of his will. Step by step the figure advanced towards the bed. It reached the bedside ; it slowly lifted its arms, enveloped in the wide sleeves of the gown — and, with an awful deliberateness, bent down towards the traveller's body. In the frenzy of terror, he burst the spell which seemed to confine his limbs, seized the snuffers which lay nearest his right hand, and stabbed, again and again, at the breast of the figure. Thia was the last thing he remembered. He was recalled to consciousness by a loud knocking at the door, followed by the full of the key from the latch, and 164 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. heard the servant's voice calling ; " Open the door, if you please, sir ; I have come to make the fire." He was lying, not in bed, but upon the floor, in the middle of the room. The snuffers were still in his hand ; but the long i-teel points were bent double. The morning light already shone through the crack of the door. By the time he was fully aroused, he had recovered his self-possession, and at once admitted the servant. "Holy cross!" exclaimed the man — "how pale you are! What has happened?" "Nothing what ever," answered the traveller, "except that the fire haa gone out, and I am almost dead of cold." He protested to the landlord that he passed a very pleasant night, and ridiculed the notion of the house being haunted ; but took good care, nevertheless, to leave the town in the course of the day. My readers can themselves apply to this story the expla- nation I have suggested. And so, let us now bid farewell to the border-land of dreams 1 XV- A NOYEMBER TRIP NORTHWARDS. [1854.] If there is any form of dissipation which I detest and abjure, it is, getting up at half-past four in the morning. The unfortunates who indulge in this vicious habit show the same infatuation, in other forms, as the devotees of opium or alcohol. They foresee the misery which the indulgence will occasion them, but no persuasion can induce them to abstain from it. The man who gets up at half-past four, in order to leave by the early train, is always tormented by a horrible fear that he will not be called in time. It needs the solemn assurances of the hotel- clerk, and of each of the attending servants, to give him a little composure ; but his trepidation is still so great, that, after he is snugly stowed away in bed, and has fallen into %n unquiet doze, he starts up, half a dozen times, thinking 166 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. that the fateful hour is at hand. By-and-lj e he drops off into a deep sleep, from which he awakens with a sudden shock, after having slept, as he supposes, for the space of twenty-four hours. He gropes for his watch with a trembling hand, and looks at the dial. There is just light enough to bewilder his vision, but he dimly sees a hand pointing to VI ! A cold sweat breaks out over him, but he finally secures a match, ignites it, and finds the hour to be half-past twelve. Again he falls asleep ; but this time he is aroused by a sound like the storming of the Malakoff — ^it is the waiter knocking at his door. He gets up, dresses with a haste which does not allow bim to wash the gossa mers of sleep fairly out of his eyes, and then wanders down endless stairs and passages of the dark, unfriendly edifice, with a vague doubt in his mind, as to whether it is yesterday or to-morrow. Breakfast is not ready until the last moment, and nothing but the knowledge that he shall get nothing else until 5 p.m. induces him to swallow the leathery beefsteak, and the brown, earthy beverage, sup- posed to be coffee. Mastication is impossible, and as for digestion, it must take care of itself. Then the porter seizes him, and, after many worries, he finally steps aboard the cars, just as the conductor cries "Go ahead 1" and secures the half of a small seat behind the door. Such was your correspondent's experience on the morning of Oct, 31, 1854; and his pleasure was further enhanced by the raw, thick fog, through which the gas-lamps of Chambers Street glimmered with a weak yellow glare. For an hour and a half we ran through the same know-nothing atmosphere, until the peaks of the Highlands tore and ± NOVEMBER TRIP NORIHWARDS. 16^ scattered the vapors, battling against their onsets. Cro*- nest and Butter Hill stood out clear and uneonquered, and when we passed the pines of Idlewild, on the breezy ter- race across the river, there was an opening of blue sky- beyond Snake Hill. I never saw more gorgeous autumnal tints than those of the sumacs, sassafras, and beech along the banks of the Hudson. But as we whirled north- wards, the day became raw and gloomy, and the colors of the forests more dull and monotonous. In Vermont the trees were robed in dull brown, and as we drew near Lake Champlain, even this last sad garment was stripped off, and the landscapes were naked and bleak as winter. Beyond Rutland the road was new to me, and my ima- gination, clothing the country with summer, restored its lost beauty. The view of Champlain, at Vergennes, with the misty lines of the Adirondac in the background, reminded me of Lake Thrasymene, which I saw on just such an afternoon of an Italian December, At Burlington we were obliged to wait two or three hours for the ^Vhitehall boat. It rained dismally, and we northern travellers were huddled together on the cold, windy pier, comforted by the assurance that the train would not leave Rouse's Point until we arrived. When w^e finally reached he latter place, about half-past nine, we were coolly in formed that the train never waited for the evening boat, and had left nearly two hours before. There is a hotel in •^he station-house (or a station-house in the hotel, for I hardly know which predominates), and I secured a long cell, with a window higher than my head. By getting on 168 AT HOME AND ABROAD. a chair I saw a bridge in the moonlight, which I took to hi the famous bridge of Rouse's Point. The next morning, w^hile waiting for the cars, I was familiarly addressed by a gentleman, as "Mr. Joseph Whipples." Until I meet the real Whipples, I cannot tell w^hich of us is complimented by the resemblance. There was a polite Canadian Custom-er in attendance, who took my simple word as evidence that I was no smuggler, and marked a double cross on all my baggage, which admitted it unopened into Canada. The wwds " Traverse de chemin de fer^^ (Look out for the locomotive when the bell rings !), at the crossings, first told me that I had crossed the frontier. , The country was flat as a pancake, wet and dreary ; log huts, painted red, stood here and there, alternating with stunted woods and fields full of charred pine-stumps. At the stopping-places, I saw men with round fur caps, and broad^ hardy faces, who spoke French with a savage accent, which made it sound like another language. In some places they were ploughing in the fields with real Canadian ponies. We followed the course of the St. Johns River, which gleamed brightly on our right, and in something over an hour came to the flourishing town of St. Johns, near which there is a very picturesque, isolated hill. Here the road swerved to the north-west, and made direct for St. Lambert, opposite Montreal. When we got out of the cars, on the long pier, and saw *;he stately city rising behind its massive quays, I could bave believed myself — ^but for the breadth and swiftness of the St. Lawrence — on the banks of the Seine. The sun suddenly shone out, gilding the lofty towers of the cathedral, A NOVEMBER TEIP NORTHWARDS. 169 the tall spires of churches, the domes and tinned roofs that stretched along the river for more than a mile and a half, to which the bold, wooded mountain in the rear formed a majestic background. I was at once reminded of Auxerre, Montreuil, and other old provincial cities of France. A mile of the clear, cold, green St. Lawrence, running at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour, lay between me and the city — a type of the vigor and impe- tuosity of the New World, encircling the repose and solidity of a scene which seemed to have been borrowed from the Old. In spite of its massive and solid aspect, few towns have suffered more from fires than Montreal. The northern and eastern portions still abound with the melancholy ruins left by recent conflagrations. In spite of this, however, and in spite of narrow and dirty streets, the city has a finished air, which distinguishes it from all towns of equal size in the States. The principal material used in building is a dark-gray limestone, which is very easily worked in the quarry, but becomes quite hard by exposure to the air. The water of Montreal has a flavor of this stone, which is by no means agreeable, nor always wholesome to strangers. The principal street, the Grande Rue St. Jacques, is a bright, cheerful thoroughfare, but more English than French in its character. I was more interested in the old streets nearer the river, which still have a certain Gallic quaintness about them. The weather, after ray arrival, was delicious. The next morning dawned without a cloud, and with a pure, sweet, bracing air, such as I have rarely breathed on the Atlantic 170 AT HOME AND ABROAD. side of our Continent. Its inhalation was a violation of the Maine Law, which prohibits the use of all intoxicating beverages. It contained a stimulus as keen and active, if not so poisonous, as alcohol. I went out after breakfast, and became so inebriated that I found it difficult to return to my hotel. I got quite high — in fact, I did not stop until I had reached the summit of the mountain behind the city. On the way, I passed a large reservoir of masonry, which the city authorities are building on the slope at the foot of the mountain. The water will be forced up by a wheel at Lachine, above the rapids, and will furnish a supply, w^hich, it is hoped, will prevent Montreal from being again laid waste by fires. The thought of so much water, all with the same limestone flavor, and the same horrid intestinal qualities, filled me with repugnance. Give me the iced champagne of this glorious air in my lungs, and let those drink water who will ! Montreal has showm great taste and good sense in pre- serving the mountain, with its clothing of primitive forest, within fifteen minutes' reach of her 70,000 inhabitants. Behind the reservoir, we jumped over a stone wall, and were in the wild woods. There was a rugged, zigzag path up the steep slant of the hill, but it was almost liidden under the fallen leaves. Although a good climber, my knees became weak and my breath short, before reaching the crest. The groves of pine and silver birch obstructed the view, except at one point, where we found an Irish boy, lying in the sun, pointing out " Mr. Smith's house " to another Irish boy. Here I was greeted with the sight, not only of Mr Smith's house, but of all Montreal, of many A NOVEMBER TRIP NORTHWAKDS. 171 leagues of the St. Lawrence, flashing splendidly in the sun^ of the broad plains beyond, sprinkled with the white cot- tages of the hahitans^ and far in the dim south, the outfly- ing spurs of the Vermont and Adirondac Mountains. It was a grand and inspiring panorama, embraced by the cold, bright blue of the Canadian sky. Well did the fol- lowers of Jacques Cartier call this the Royal Mountain. We found another faint trail leading northwards through the pines and birch, and having followed it up for a short distance, reached the opposite brink of the mountain, whence we looked away beyond the Island of Jesus, gir- dled by the blue arms of the Ottawa, to a distant horizon of low hills and forests. In the keen northern air, which came to us over the rim of that horizon, there was a whis- per of Hudson's Bay and of those snowy lodges by the Great Fish River where lie the corpses of the Arctic ex- plorers. It requires but a slight elevation to make the ends of the earth seem near to us. Along the Ottawa River there are settlements for two hundred miles, and many hundred leagues further to the North-West Passage, yet to my fancy the site of that useless problem was just beyond the range of vision. There are bears and deer in some of the forests I saw, and the " ravages " of the moose may be reached in a few days' journey. In the afternoon I had the pleasure of inspecting th works ol the Victoria Bridge, which is to span the St. Lawrence at tins place. I was indebted to the courtesy of Mr. Holmes and Mr. Grant, of the Grand Trunk Railroad Company, for the opportunity of seeing in detail the b3gin nmgs of this colossal undertaking. The bridge, which is to 172 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. be of iroa, and tubular, like that over the Menai Strait, will be Uco miles in length, and its central arch will have a span of 333 feet. The material used is black limestone, and the Titanic piers, which compete with the grand masonry of Egypt^ are based upon the solid natural rock which here tonus the bed of the St. Lawrence. Immense strength is required in the piers, in order to resist the pressure of the ice. The huge blocks of stone are laid in hydraulic cement of the firmest character, and melted lead, and strongly clamped together with iron. In the middle of the river the current runs at the rate of nine or ten miles an hour, and the force of the inmiense masses of ice, carried down at the breaking up of winter, is so great that the old resi- dents of Montreal shake their heads and predict that the bridge will be a failure. But I cannot conceive how these piers can be shaken any more than so many masses of natural rock. Certainly, human genius never better coun- terfeited the strength of nature. It is refreshing to see on this continent, where the most that is done is temporary and transitory, a work which rivals the Pyramids. The cost of the bridge, when completed, is estimated at £1,500,000, but will probably be nearer £2,000,000. On leaving Montreal, your correspondent was guilty of the same dissipation as on leaving New York: he got up at half-past four. There is some difference, however, between a Montreal hotel and a New York hotel before daylight. We had been promised our breakfasts, but on descending to the office at a quarter past five, found only two Irish girls washing the floor. They were " know-nothings " in the fullest sjnse, and snubbed all my endeavors to obtair A NOVEMBER TKIP NOKTHWARDS. 173 mformation. Finally, " the Superintendent," as he styled himself — a dark gentleman who had probably once been white property, and now retaliated by looking upon all whites as his property — made his appearance. His assump^ tion of superiority was so sublime that I was amused rathei than annoyed by it. He majestically disdained all OKpla nations, declining all conversation by a wave of his hand, and the oracular remark that " everything was right." It happened, in tlie end, that we reached the ferry-boat before she pushed off, but the rapidity with which we underwent breakfast would have astonished a weaker stomach than your correspondent's. On landing from the omnibus on the quay, we found the ticket-master in waiting, with a lantern and a pocketful of tickets. I held the lantern for him, while he counted out my change. Of course there could be no crowding at the window with such an arrangement. The sky was a dull gray blanket, with a strip of fiery red binding, in the north-east, over St. Helen's Island. As the wind blew it threw upwards a hidden fringe of the same crimson hue, and the dark, cheerless landscape faded into the colors of dawn. Before we were half-Avay across the St. Lawrence, a snow-squall came down upon the river, almost hiding from view the stately city we were leaving. The air was searchingly raw and cold, and I took but a hasty farewell glance, with the wish that I may one day see the same shores in the glory of summer. As we spei over the wet plains, on our way to Rouse's Point, the sno\i continued, and the country was soon whitened, far and near. The atmosphere liad lost all its purity and elasticity, and I felt glad that my course was southwards. 174 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. At Rouse's Point, we found the train for Ogdensburg m waiting. The Canadian plains appear to cease at the fron- tier, for the country through which we passed was mode* rately undulating, with occasional hills in the distance. It was a dreary alternation of pine woods, stumpy clearings, barren-looking fields, and meagre villages. The raw, gusty day, with frequent flurries of snow, undoubtedly added to its bleak and forbidding aspect, but I do not believe that even June could make it inviting. The road passes through the northern edge of Clinton, Franklin, and St. Lawrence counties, crossing many of the tributaries of the St. Law- rence, among which I noted the Chateauguay, Salmon, St. Regis, Hatchet, and Grass Rivers. The country is all well watered and timbered. The only town which made any show from the railroad was Malone, which had a flourish- ing air. At one of the stations, where I got out to warm myself with a cup of coffee, I was much interested in the aspect of a female waiter. She stood with folded arms, gazing into vacancy ^ and when requested to furnish the coffee obeyed with the least possible expenditure of movement, removed the cup and took the money in the same way, without honoring me with a single glance, and then folded her arms again. The freezing dignity of her countenance repelled all idea of conversation. Were I a sculptor, I should be delighted to find such an excellent model for a Btatue of Indifference. The country improved after passing Potsdam, and the road descended to the St. Lawrence. The sun, breaking through the clouds, shone with a cold brilliance on the forms and farm-houses of the Canada shore, as we readied A NOVEMBER TRIP NORTHWARDS. 176 Ogdensburg, the end of the day's journey. I found com fortable quarters at the St. Lawrence Hotel, and they wer^ truly welcome, for as the sky cleared, the air became in- tensely cold. The windows of my room were covered with a thick crust of ice the next morning, and the tern perature could not have been higher than 15°. Under the guidance of Judge James, I saw as much of Ogdensburg as the cold permitted. The Judge is well versed in the early history of this region, which he repeated to me while we were seeking a distant view of Chimney Island — so called from the ruins of the old French fort, destroyed by Lord Amherst. The situation of the town ig fine, ^\dth the exception that it faces the north. The banks of the Oswegatchie, which here empties into the St. Law- rence, are high and bluff, forming a crescent-shaped curve, open to the west. The crest of the right bank is lined with handsome dwelling-houses, and has a charmingly pic- turesque air when viewed from the bridge below. Con- spicuous among the buildings is the Court-House, which still bears the marks of a cannon-ball sent across the river, during the last war. Ogdensburg, like Montreal, has suf- fered terribly from fires, but in spite of these drawbacks to its growth, it has a population of nine or ten thousand. I left for Sackett's Harbor the next evening in the steamer Niagara. The night was superbly moonlit, bat bitterly cold. We dropped down the river, ran across to Windmill Point, the scene of Schultz's defeat during the Rebellion of '37, and rounded up to Prescott, whence a railroad has been opened to Ottawa, on the Ottawa River. I gave up all liopes of seeing the Thousand Islands, which 176 AT HOME AND ABKOAB. it was said we should not reach before midnight, but did not seek my state-room until we had touched at Morris- town and Brockville, the former on the American, the latter on the Canadian shore. They are both thriving places, but Brockville bore away the palm of appearance n the moonlight. Speaking of palms reminds me how I longed to be back again inside the Tropics that night. When I went to my state-room, the pitcher contained a solid lump of ice instead of water. Tlie loose window rattled in the wind, and as the bedding was cut according to the width of the berth, I leave the reader to imagine whether a man could tuck himself in or not. The long night passed away in a weary battle, wherein Cold did not lose a single intrenchment, but Sleep was utterly routed, and fled. I diversified my misery by looking out on the wintry shores, which were coldly lighted by the moon. I have an idea that I saw some of the Thousand Islands, but I was in such a numb, torpid, half-awake state, that I cannot to this day tell whether it was a dream or a reality. I certainly have in my mind the images of three or four natural piers of rock, surmounted vrith dark clumps of pine, but they are of such a singularly weird aspect that I half-suspect they belong to the realm of dreams. The lurid glare of the dawn upon a black sky at last called me from my freezing berth. We were in the harbor of Kingston, trying to make fast to the wharf, for it blew a gale. The wind was so violent that the captain at onct gave up all idea of proceeding further. I saw a boat, manned by six oarsmen, put '^ff in the endeavor to reacli a A NOVEMBER TRIP NORTHWARDS. in brig which lay about a hundred yards out, but it could not make the least headway, and finally was driven back again. The sea was not very high, but terribly rough and chop- ping. As there was no chance of reaching SacketVs Harbor that day by the jS^iagara, I decided to try my luck in the ferry-boat which runs across to Cape Yincent, connecting with the Rome and Watertown Railroad, and in the mean- time took a stroll through Kingston. The place is very much like an English seaport town — solid, quiet, sober in its hue, and yet with a rakish aii wliicli is not easily described. The same black limestone is used as in Montreal, and I noticed two or three fine Gothic churches — ^minus the towers — built of it. The Market Hall Is really a noble edifice, and presents an imposing front to the harbor. Kingston has the reputation of being a very immoral town ; whether deservedly so or not I cannot say. My survey of it was very limited, for the air was intensely keen and strong, and the dust, at times, blinding. I noticed in the port a vessel of 1,000 or 1,200 tons, built for an Eng- lish house, and was informed that shipbuilding is getting to be quite an important business in the place, on account of the cheapness of timber and the facilities for procuring it. At half-past eleven the little steamer Star dashed out into the gale, hoping to reach Cape Vincent in time for the 8 P.M. train. She was obliged to go below Grand Island In order to avoid the force of the wind, which increased th distance to thirty-two miles. She was a staunch little craft, and made good time after we got under the lee of the island, so that by three o'clock we were in sight of the Cape, and had the satisfaction of seeing tlie train start 178 AT UOMIS AND A BBC AD. Luckily, we had the engineer on board, and the conductor waited for us at the freight depot, which we reached fifteen minutes after the time. Grand Island, which is twenty seven miles in length, is a wild, bleak tract, belonging to Canada. The country between Cape Vincent and Watertow ha» poor, unfertile appearance, but seems well adapted for grazing. It is undulating and rather monotonous for the greater part of the way. Chaumont Bay, an estuary of Lake Ontario, recalls the name of Le Ray de Chaumont, who is concerned in the history of the Rev. Eleazer Bour- bon. As we approached Watertown there was a visible improvement both in soil and scenery, and the picturesque banks of the Black River were all the more agreeable after the monotonous country through which we had passed. I was very pleasantly impressed with the appearance of Watertown. It is, without doubt, the stateliest town of its size in the country. At the Woodruff House I found accommodations not inferior to any first-class hotel in New York, and the view of the public square from its windows needs only a crowd to be metropolitan in its character. In the centre of this square is a fountain, which, unlike our City fountains, plays. The main street is a boulevard^ with a double row of trees between the sidewalk and th© central highway. On either side thereof are neat resi deuces, each embowered in its own private trees and flowers. The Black River skirts the town, foaming down a gorge of dark limestone rock. Here and there it plunges into cataracts, which fringe its dark-brown translucence with streaks of snow. Its color that of a shaded river — A NOVEMBER TRIP NORTHWARDS. 179 a son of the forests and the mountains, steeped in the flavor of hemlock and fir. But, wild mountaineer as it is, it must labor like the rest of us, and keeps many a mill-wheel going. From Watertown I came southwards, and succeeded in enjoying the last days of the Indian Summer, before the winter from which I had fled overtook me again. XVL THE MAMMOTH CAYE. [MAT, 1855.1 Paet I. — Tub Joubney Thitheb. We were a family party of six, and ourselves and our baggage, including a bucket for the horses, just filled two carriages. It was our intention to have left New Albany, Ind. (where we had been sojourning a day or two), in the morning, in order to reach Elizabethtown the same evening ; but the heavy rains of the previous night prevented us from starting before noon. Crossing the Ohio River to Portland we struck the Nashville turnpike on the outskirts of Louisville, and took up our journey towards Salt River, twenty-two miles distant. The country through which we passed is low, slightly undulating, and very fertile. Now and then appeared an old family mansion surrounded by its orchards and gardens, and presenting much the same aspect THE MAMMOTH CAVE. 181 of comfort and repose as the country homesteads of Penn- sylvania and Virginia. There were the same avenues of locusts, now in snowy and fragrant bloom ; the same heav^ brick dwelling with its portly front door, rarely opened but on state occasions ; the same bowers of honeysuckle, trellises of grapes, beds of peonies and crown-imperials^ and the same scattered clusters of out-houses, backed by the rounded tops of the orchard trees. The season is nearly a month in advance of the valley of the Hudson ; all forest trees — even the latest — are in their young foliage, the apple and pear blossoms are gone, and the corn is ready for its first harrowing. The afternoon was intensely hot and sultry. Heavy thunder-clouds were piled up on the northern and southern horizon, but they gradually rolled away without crossing our path. The latter part of our journey was througli forests of beech, oak, and elm. The former tree, which greatly predominated, attains a size and beauty rarely seen east of the AUeghanies. Its foliage is the purest and most brilliant green, charmingly relieved by the smooth, white trunk, and the long, slender, feathery curve of the drooping boughs. We were delighted with the alternation of woodland and farm-scenery which the road afforded us. Towards evening we came again upon the Ohio — the Beautiful River, here as elsewhere — and followed its bank to the mouth of Salt River, on the opposite bank of which Is West-Point, our resting-place for the night. Where it debouches into the Ohio, Salt River is not more than fifty or sixty yards in breadth, but very deep It is never fordable even in the dryest seasons; and 182 AT HOME AND ABROAD. being navigable for fourteen miles above its moutli, has Qot been bridged at this point. We descended its steep and difficult banks, embarked our carriage upon a flat ferr^-boat, and were conveyed across. The view, looking up the river, was very beautiful. Tall elms and sycamores clothed the banks, dropping their boughs almost to the water, and forming a vista of foliage through which the stream curved out of sight between wooded hills. I longed to be rowed up it. While on the spot, I took occasion to inquire the derivation of the slang poUtical phrase, "Rowed up Salt River,'' and succeeded in dis- covering it. Formerly there were extensive salt-works on the river, a short distance from its mouth. The laborers employed in them were a set of athletic, belligerent fel- lows, who soon became noted far and wide for their achievements in the pugilistic line. Hence it became a common thing among the boatmen on the Ohio, when one of their number was refractory, to say to him: "We'll row you up Salt River " — where, of course, the bully salt- men would have the handling of him. By a natural figure of speech the expression was applied to political candidates, first, I believe, in the Presidential campaign of 1 840, and is now extensively used wherever the Native-American lan- guage is spoken. About nine o'clock the next day the clouds broke a little, the rain of the night ceased, and we started for Elizabethtown. After passmg two or three miles of fer- tile bottoms, studded with noble beech woods, the road entered a glen in the Muldraugh Hills- -a long, laterai branch of the Cumberland Runge, which stretches quite THE MAMMOTH CAVE. 183 through the centre of Kentucky. The road we were tra- velling is one of the finest in the United States — broad, smooth, and thoroughly macadamized. It follows the windings of the glen for three or four miles, so well graded that the ascent is barely perceptible. A brook swollen by the rains foamed below us, now on this side, now on that, while numbers of tiny streams spouted from openings in the limestone rocks on either hand. The elms and beeches in the bed of the glen almost met above our heads, yet did not hide the slopes of splendid foliage of which they were the hem. In one of the wildest spots the mouth of a cavern opened on the right hand, pouring out a smooth cascade of silvery water. The scarlet aquilegia, the phlox, the white purslane, the violet, and other Spring flowers, grew in the crevices of the rocks, and brightened the fairy solitude. After reaching the summit of the glen, we entered a rolling upland region, heavily wooded with forests of oak, hickory, and maple. The soil was thin and stony, and the country had rather a poor and unfertile aspect compared with that along the Ohio River. The farm-houses were mostly built of logs, and many of them had what might be termed an inclosed portico — a square opening of the height of the first story — ^passing entirely through them. All, even the poorest, had their negro hut or huts adjoining, though some of the latter ajipeared to be tenantless. The impression these establishments made upon me was that of moderate activity, intelligence ditto, and content Avith things as they are. We met many men on horseback, dressed in what appeared to be homespun cloth — tall^ 184 AT HOME AND AiiKOAl). large-limbed, robust individuals, and fine specimens of anl mal health and vigor. Occasionally we passed large, can- vas-covered wagons, drawn by three or four horses. The fanners saluted us with the stiff, silent nod peculiar tc Anglo-Saxons, but the negro teamster frequently raised his hat to the ladies. We saw but a single carriage, driven by a gentleman who politely gave us the best side of the road, notwithstanding he was entitled to it. The same thing would not have happened north of the Ohio River. We stopped for dinner at the Cool Spring tavern. Tlie landlord, who had very much the air of a parson, received us with much ceremony, and then blew dolorously upon a conch-shell until "the boys," who were at work in a distant field, heard the summons and hurried home to take charge of our horses. We were regaled with Kentucky ham, eggs, excellent coffee, and corn-bread of that peculiar sweetness and excellence which only a Southern cook can give it. Indeed, the excellence of the country taverns in Kentucky was a matter of constant surprise to me. With- out a single exception we were treated with a cordiality, and even kindness, which gave them all a friendly and home-like air, quite different from the dreary aspect of similar institutions north of the Ohio. The fare also was as notably good as it is notably bad in the more progressive States of the West. Kentucky may be called slow m comparison with Ohio and Illinois, but there is more genuine comfort and more genial social feeling within her borders than in either of the latter States. Beyond Elizabethtown, we journeyed for ten miles through a rich, well-wooded rolling country to the village THE MAJ^IMOTU CAVE. 185 of Xolin, on the creek of the same name, and halted for the night at the tavern of Mr. Gehagan. We found a wood fire in the wide chimney very agreeable, for the evening air was unexpectedly cool. I am told that fires are frequently kindled in the evenings as late as the begin- ning of June. With this custom, however, is connected that of leaving the doors open, which insures ventilation. It belongs perhaps to the out-door life of the Kentuckians, for I found few doors that would shut closely. We were greatly amused by the impossibility of keeping our doors closed. In almost all cases every one who enters, master or servant, leaves them wide behind him. I rather like the habit, but it takes a little time to get used to it. We started early the next morning, for the macadamized road ceased at Nohn, and we had eighteen miles of " dut road " before us. Weary miles they were, for the rain had softened the sticky red clay soil, and our horses, though willing enough, were rather too light for such work. The country was similar to that we had passed, but richer, more open, and better cultivated. With the wide, undulating landscape blooming and breathing of Spring, and a pale- blue sky of the utmost clearness overhead, I found the journey delightful. After passing a long wooded ridge, we saw the blue wavy line of the Green River Hills before us, but we approached them very slowly until we struck the turnpike again, four miles from Munfordsville. In the woods through which our road lay we frequently saw fat rabbits leaping among the bushes, and once a large wild turkey darted across the path before us. Wood-robins and eat-birdfe sang among tlie trees, and in the evening long 186 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. rustling lines of pigeons flew over our heads on their way to the north-west. The wooded hills assumed more broken and picturesque forms as we approached Munfordsville, and Summerseat Knob, beyond Green River, made a prominent feature of the landscape. The road followed the ivindings of a shal- low glen, clothed with small oaks, for two or three miles ; after which we came upon Munfordsville, the county town of Hart County. We drew up at Judge Kerr's, near the Court-House, and while our dinner was preparing had an opportunity of inspecting the natives, who were gathered together to vote at a county election. No important offices were at stake, and the occasion seemed to be passing off without much excitement of any kind. There were nearly M many horses present as men, and a few, but not many good specimens of horse-flesh. A grocery opposite ap- peared to be doing a good business in the corn-whiskey line — a business which appears to be confined to groceries, for "iVG saw but one tavern on the road where liquors were sold. The tall, sun-burned voters were collected into groups, dis- cussing K. N. and S. N. matters, but in rather a quiet, listless way, as if they did not consider the welfare of their country wholly at stake. We were furnished with a dinner admirable in all re apects, and after consulting with the Judge concerning the roads to the Mammoth Cave, decided to go on to Ritter's Tavern, at Woodlands, and there rest for the night. The Cave was but fifteen miles distant by the nearest road, bui it was a very rough way among the hills, and there was not enough daylight left to accomplish it with our jaded THE MAMMOTH CAVB. 181 horses. We descended a steep bank to the bottom of the glen in which flows Green River, crossed the stream in a ferry-boat, and ascended the opposite bank to Woodson- ville. The two towns seem not more than a stone's throw upart, but are separated by a hollow even more wild and beautiful than that of Salt River. The river is a clear green hue, fringed by noble elms, beeches, sycamores, and sweet gum-trees, which rise in walls of foliage from its translucent floor. I thought of Bryant's " Green River," to which his lines are not more applicable than to its Ken- tucky brother : ^ Yet fair as thou art, thou shunnest to glide^ Beautiful stream I by the village side ; But windest away from haunts of men, To silent valley and shaded glen." Five miles beyond Woodsonville we came to a cluster of houses on a hill, which constituted an election precinct. There was the usual congregation of men and horses. Some ten or twelve of the former — full-grown, voting citizens — were playing marbles in the middle of the road, with as much interest as any group of school-boys I ever saw. They paid not the least regard to our approach, and we were obliged to drive around them to avoid a collision. A gaunt individual, mounted on a lean sorrel horse, rode up to me with the question : " How are the Know-Nothin's gittin' along whar you come from, stranger ? " I replied : " They are pretty well split up : I come from New York," and asked him, in turn, what they were doing in the pre- sent election. " Oh," said he, " they can't do nothin' thii 188 AT HOME AND AliltOAD. year, no liow, but next year they'll make a good show ; X Bort o' lea7i that way, myself'*'* — and suiting the action to the word he leaned over his horse's neck until the saddle^ which was ungirthed, began to turn, and his head being none of the steadiest, he had some difBculty in regaining iih equilibrium. The turnpike here ceased, and we came upon a heavy dirt-road leading through woodlands and pleasant green valleys between the abrupt "knobs" with which this part of the country is studded. Many returning voters on horseback kept us company. There was one who passed us in a state of unconsciousness mounted on a mare, behind which ran a little black mule. He reeled in the saddle at such a rate that I expected every moment to see him tumble into the road, but he always regained his balance miraculously at the last moment. Towards sunset we found him again, doubled up in a corner of the fence dead asleep, but still holding on to the bridle of his mare, who was grazing around his feet. At dusk we reached Wood- lands, a capacious tavern, seated behind a lawn covered with ornamental shrubbery — a very cheerful, home-like place. Everything in and about the house gave tokens of neatness and comfort. The negro quarters were clean and commodious, and the spruce servants seconded our genial host, Mr. Ritter, in his endeavors to make our stay plea- Bant. Woodlands is eleven miles from the Cave, by a wild road over the hills. Mr. Ritter gave me minute direc- tions for finding the way, as the country is almost uninha^ bited. After travelling two miles through the woods we THE MAiniOTH CAVB. passed a log cabin and clearing, beyonc which our way was blocked up by a tree which had been blown down by tlie winds. Two of us took rails from the fence to serve as levers, and as the ladies joined in the work with good will, the log was gradually heaved aside sufficientlj to allow the carriages to pass. After our labors were over three men (inmates of the log-cabin) arrived for the pur- pose of assisting us. Crossing a deep valley, we climbed an opposite ridge, by a very steep and difficult road, and seeing the long, wooded crest of the hill extending far before us, supposed that the worst part of the journey was over. But exactly at this juncture the tongue of my car- riage snapped in twain in consequence of a sudden wrench, and we were left stranded. We had neither ropes, knives, nor implements of any kind, and, after holding a council of war, decided that the only thing to be done was to leave the wreck in the woods. We succeeded in detaching the broken parts, lashing them to the remaining carriage, and mounting three persons upon the two horses, using the carriage cushions as saddles. One of the natives of this region, who had ridden up immediately after the accident, stood watching us during these proceedings, and at their close observed : " Well, I guess you're the right stripe: you can get along " — after which he left us. We made slow but merry travel through the seven miles of forest intervening between us and the Cave Hotel, where we a^ived in season for dinner, without furtlier accident. XYIL THE MAMMOTH CAVE. [MAY, 1800.] Pabt n. — ^Tke First Journey Under Ground. Notwithstanding the irregular order of our arrival, aftei our mishap in the woods, we were cordially welcomed by Mr. MUler, the host. The hotel is a long, straggling pile of wooden buildings, with stone chimneys attached to the exterior at the gable ends. A wing of furnished apart- ments joins its northern end, fronting upon a lawn where tall forest trees have been allowed to stand in their natural attitudes and groupings. The main body of the hotel, with this wing, furnishes at least six hundred feet of portico, formmg one of the most delightful promenades imaginable for Summer weather. Around the place intervenes a nar- row girdle of cleared land, beyond which stand the primi- tive woods, wherein the deer and wild turkey still make THE MAMMOTH CAVE, 191 their habitation. We heard the call of the latter as we sat in the shaded portico. The rooms are sufficiently large and comfortable, though their doors have the same inabi- lity to be closed which I have already noticed as a charac- eristic of Kentucky architecture. The season for travel had hardly commenced, and we found but seven visitors on our arrival. Two of these had just returned from a trip beyond the rivers, under the charge of " Stephen," the famous cave guide, and their clothes, bespattered with mud, gave us some indication of the character of the trip. As our stay was limited to two days, we decided to visit the cis-fluvial avenues the same afternoon, reserving the grand journey over the water for the next day. The rivers had been gradually rising for four days, and were then of precisely the most inconvenient stage, though not yet impassable. Mr. Miller informed me that they rarely rose more than four days in succession, and there was no likelihood at present that we should not be able to cross them. I engaged Stephen foi the next day, and took Alfred, one of the other guides, foi our initiatory excursion. After dining off a noble haunch of venison, Alfred mado his appearance with a bundle of lamps, and announced that everything was in readiness. Turning around the hotel to he northward, we entered a rocky ravine in the forest, nd in a few minutes were made aware by a gust of cold wind that we had reached the entrance to the underground world. The scene was wild and picturesque in the ex- treme, yet the first involuntary sensation was something ikin to terror. The falling in of the roof of the main 192 AT HOME AND ABROAD. avenue of the cave as it approached the surface of the earth has formed a gap, or pit, about fifty feet in depth, terminating in a dark, yawning portal, out of which a steady current of cold air was breathed in our faces. Trees grew around the edges of the pit, almost roofin t with shade; ferns and tangled vines fringed its sides ftnd a slender stream of water falling from the rocks which arched above the entrance, dropped like a silver veil before the mysterious gloom. The temperature of the cave is 59^ throughout the year, and that of the upper air being about 75°, the colder stratum was ebbing out. When the inside and outside temperatures are equal, as they fre- quently are, there is no perceptible current. Taking each a lighted lamp, we descended some rocky steps to the floor of the cavern, passed behind the tinkling cascade, and plunged into the darkness. The avenue rapidly contracts, and is closed by an artificial wall, with a door, which is sometimes locked to exclude pilferers. Having passed this, the daylight disappeared behind us Our eyes, blinded by the sudden transition to complete darkness, could barely see a roof of solid rock not far above our heads, and masses of loose stones piled on either side. This part of the avenue is called "The Narrows." The space gradually expanded ; the arch of the ceiling became more dim and lofty, and the walls only showed themselves by a faint and uncertain glimmer. The flooi cnder our feet was firm and well-beaten, the air we breathed pure and refreshing, and a feeling of perfect confidence and security replaced the shrinking sensation which I think nearly every one must feel on first entering. THli. MAMMOTH CAVE. 103 As the pupils of our eyes expanded, and we began to discern more clearly by the light of our lamps the dimen «ions of the grand avenue, we reached a spacious hall called The Vestibule, which is said to be directly under the Cave Hotel. It is seventy or eighty feet in height, branching off on one side into a spacious cave called Audubon's Avenue. Near it is the Great Bat-room, which hundreds of bats have chosen as a place of hibernation. We were now in the Main Cave, which extended for three or four miles before us with an average height of about fifty, and an average breadth of at least eighty feet, in some places expanding to one hundred and fifty feet. What are the galleries of the Vatican, the Louvre, Versailles, and the Crystal Palaces of London and Paris to this gigantic vault hewn in the living rock ? Previous to the crossing of the Bottomless Pit in 1838, and subsequently of the Rivers in 1840, all the published accounts of the Mammoth Cave described only this avenue and its branches. The sides are perpendicular walls with a distinct and sometimes bold cornice, and a slightly-arched ceiling which often resembles a groined vault. The limestone lies in horizontal strata with scarcely a fault, and all the wonderful forms which it assumes are clearly traceable to the action of water. Immediately on entering, you see the remains of the saxt- petre works, which were carried on here from 1808 to 1814. The old hoppers or leaching vats, the sluices for carrying off the water, and many other appliances, are still almost as perfect as if the manufacture had just been relin- quished. The wood-work remains perfectly sound and oncorrupted, and even the ruts made by cart-wheels, and 194 AT HOME AND ABROAD. the prints of the oxen's hoofs in the then moist soil, have not been effaced. It is said that saltpetre to the value of $20,000 was washed from the earth in one year, and that in the course of three years the same earth became a^i ichly impregnated as before. This property is also com municated to the air, but probably in a less degree. I am not aware that it has ever been analysed; but whether fi'om the absence of vegetable exhalations and the conse- quent purity of its constituent elements, or from the pre- sence of some exhilarating property, it is certainly more bracing and invigorating than the air of the upper world. After we had become accustomed to its diminished tem- perature, its inhalation was a luxury. I can only compare it to a very mild nitrous oxide. The oxen which were taken into the cave to haul earth to the saltpetre vats became fat and plump in the course of two or three months without any extra feed. As a sanitarium for consump- tive patients, the cave does not seem to answer ; but the experiment has not yet been fairly tried — ^most of the invalids who came here having been in the advanced stages of the disease. Besides, the absence of sunlight — which seems to exercise a subtle influence upon human as upon vegetable vitality — might counterbalance in many cases the advantages of an equable and stimulating air. Nearly a quarter of a mile beyond The Vestibule, we came to a second dome inserted like a transept in the main avenue or nave, and called The Church. The roof, whicli is about eighty feet high, is almost Gothic ; and on the left hand is a gallery or choir with a projecting pulpit at one of the* angles. Here service is often performed on Sun THE MAJilMOTH CAVK. 195 days (luring the summer. We took our seats on some timbers taken from the saltpetre vats, while the guide ascended to the gallery and finally took bis station in the pulpit. Here he kindled a Bengal light, which hissed and sputtered like a sacrificial flame, throwing a strong pale- blue lustre upon the vast, rude arches, and bringing out the jagged walls in vivid relief against the profound dark ness on either hand. In spite of the semi-sanctity given to the place this illumination seemed to me nothing less than an offering to the Kentucky gnomes and kobolds — thn underground fairies who have hollowed for themselves this marvellous palace under her green hills. Continuing our walk, with eyes that now saw clearly not only the grand dimensions of the avenue, but its rude sug- gestions of pilasters, friezes, and cornices, and the dark cloud-pattems that mottled its gray ceiling, we passed in succession the Kentucky Cliffs (so called from their resem- blance to the rocks on Kentucky River), Willie's Spring, a tiny thread of water which has channelled itself a fantastic fluted niche from the top to the base of the wall, and the Second Hoppers, where the operations of the old miners seem to have been prosecuted on a very extensive scale. Above these hoppers, on the right hand, is the mouth ol the Gothic Avenue, branching off at right angles to the main cave. It is reached by a flight of steps. The subter- ranean scenery became more and more striking as we advanced. The roof is coated with a thin incrustation of gypsum, which is colored in patches with black oxide of manganese, giving it a rude resemblance to a gray sky flecked with dark clouds. In the waving and uncertaio AT HOME AND ABROAD, light of the lamps, these clouds seem to move as you walk, and to assume capricious aud fantastic forms. Now you see an oval lake surrounded with shrubbery, now a couch- ant beast, , mound of earth near the Dining Room I saw some cedai trees which had been planted there as an experiment They were entirely dead, but the experunent can hardly be considered final, as the cedar is of all trees the mosi easily injured by being transplanted. I now noticed that the ceiling became darker, and that he gray cornice of the walls stood out from it in strong relief. Presently it became a sheet of unvarying blackness, which reflected no light, like a cloudy night-sky. All at once a few stars glimmered through the void, then more and more, and a firmament as far off and vast, apparently, as that which arches over the outer world, hung above our heads. We were in the celebrated Star Chamber. Lean- ing against a rock which lay upon the right side of the avenue, we looked upwards, lost in wonder at the marvel- lous illusion. It is impossible to describe the effect of this mock sky. Your reason vainly tells you that it is but a crust of black oxyd of manganese, sprinkled with crystals of gypsum, seventy-five feet above your head. You see that it is a fathomless heaven, with its constellations twink- ling in the illimitable space. You are no longer upon this earth. You are in a thunder-riven gorge of the mountains of Jupiter, looking up at the strange firmament of that darker planet. You see other constellations rising, far up in the abyss of midnight, and witness the occultation of emoter stars. The fascination of that scene would have held us there for the remainder of the day if the guide had permitted it* After indulging us for what he considered a sufiicient length of time, he took our lamps, and descending into a branch THB MAMMOTH CAVBU 201 caTern that opened from the floor, treated us to some fine effects of light and shade. By a sldlful management of his lights he produced the appearance of a thunder-clouc rising and gradually spreading over the sky. The stars ar4» lost ; the comet, gleaming portentous on the horizon, dis appears ; and the gorge is wrapped in shadow. Then the clouds break and clear away, and the stars seem to twinkle with a more bright and frosty lustre after their obscuration, " Take care of yourselves !" cries the guide, and we heaj his footsteps passing under the floor. He has all our lamps^ and we can now see but a faint glimmer through the opening he entered. Now it is but the ghost of a glimmer * and now, as his footsteps are more indistinct, it ceases alto- gether. Yes, this is darkness — solid, palpable darkness. Stretch out your hand and you can grasp it ; open your mouth and it will choke you. Such must have been the primal chaos before Space was, or b( vm was, or "Let there be light!" had been spoken. In tl; ' intense stillness I could hear the beating of my heart, and the humming sound made by the blood in its circulauon. After a while a golden nebulous glow stole upon the darkness, seemingly brighter than the sunrise radiance of the East, and increased until our guide and lamps rose above the homon. We now returned to the Second Hoppers, and mounted to the Gothic Avenue. For more than a quarter of a mile this avenue has a ceiling perfectly flat, with every appearance of having received a coat of plaster. It is smoked over in all parts with the names of vulgar visitors, from which circumstance it is called tli€ Register Room. Persons formerly earned candles in theii 202 AT HOME AND ABROAD. trips througli the cave, and by tying them to poles, mo ceeded in not only smoking their names upon the ceiling but in many instances their portraits — for there were fre- quently rude attempts of drawing the figures of sheep and pigs. The lamps used at present prevent all such desecrar tion, but there are still (and probably always will be) ouching applications for candles. The roof gradually became broken and rugged, studded here and there with unfinished stalactites, and we now entered the Gothic Chapel, where those stony icicles become large enough to form ribbed pillars and fair Gothic arches. The railing is not more than thirty feet high, so that this hall ^as nothing of the grandeur of Goran's Dome, but it is very curious and beautiful. Beyond this the specimens of stalactitic formation are very numerous, and I have not time to describe them minutely. We passed Napoleon's Breast- works, Vulcan's Shop, the Elephant's Head, and the Pillars of Hercules, hard by which is the Lover's Leap, where the journey ceased. Here the floor of the avenue suddenly falls away, leaving a gulf about fifty feet deep, over which projects a long, pointed rock. By descending into the gulf you can enter a lower gallery leading to other wonders, among which the guide mentioned " The Devil's Cooling Tub,'' but we had scarcely sufficient time to explore it. We retraced our steps to the Second Hoppers, and then returned to the mouth of the cave, having been four hourg underground, and travelled about five miles. When we cached the entrance and looked out from behind the falling skein of water the trees seemed to be illuminated with an unnatural fire. The daylight had a warm yellow TTIB MAMMOTH CAVE. 208 hue, intensely bright, and the sky was paler but more luminous than usual. The air, by contrast with the exhila- rating nitrous atmosphere below, felt close, unpleasantly warm, and oppressive — like that of an ill-ventilated green- house in Winter. There was too much perfume in it — tof many varieties of vegetable smells — for I found that the short absence had made my scent unusually keen and intelligent. This first sensation soon wore off, and left us with no other unpleasant effect from our trip than that of great hungeri of which Mr. Miller speedily relieved us. XVIIL THE MAMMOTH CAVE. [MAY, 1865.] Part III. — Day Beyond the Styx. The next morning we made preparations for an early starts 88 we had a long day's journey before us. Our party was increased to eleven by the addition of a bridal pair, a young Tennessean, and two silent Boston gentlemen. We had two guides : Stephen, whom I had specially engaged, and Mat. The ladies, with one exception, were attired in Bloomer costume, greatly to the merriment of the party but much to their own convenience. Dresses are kept at the hotel for the use of lady visitors, and I would advise all Buch to make use of them. In addition to tiit. supply of lamps the guides carried canteens of oil and bai^kets of provisions for the dinner we were to make in the regiont TUB MAMMOTH CAVB. 205 beyond tlie Styx. Thus equipped and provided for, we set out immediately after breakfast. Stephen, who has had a share in all the principal explora- tions and discoveries, is almost as widely known as tie i'ave itself. He is a slight, graceful, and very handsome mulatto of about thirty-five years of age, with perfectl} regular and clearly chiselled features, a keen, dark eye, and glossy hau' and moustache. He is the model of a guide — quick, daring, enthusiastic, persevering, with a lively appro, elation of the wonders he shows, and a degree of intelli- gence unusual in one of his class. He has a smattering of Greek mythology, a good idea of geography, history, and a limited range of literature, and a familiarity with geolo- icical technology which astonished me. He will discourse »pon the various formations in the Cave as fluently as Pro- fessor Silliman himself. His memory is wonderfully reten- tive, and he never hears a telling expression without trea- suring it up for later use. In this way his mind has become the repository of a great variety of opinions and compari- sons, which he has sagacity enough to collate and arrange, and he rarely confuses or misplaces his material. I think no one can travel under his guidance without being inte- rested in the man, and associating him in memory with the realm over which he is chief ruler. Mat, who ranks next to Stephen among the guides, ia also a mulatto, of about the same age — a careful, patient, intelligent, and amiable man, but with less geological know- ledge than the latter. He does not belong to the cave property, but is hired out by his master. Stephen and Alfred belonged to Dr. Croghan, the late owner of the cave, 206 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. and are to be manumitted in another year, with a number of other slaves. They are now receiving wages, in order to enable them to begin freedom with a little capital, in Liberia, their destined home. Stephen, I hear, has com menced the perusal of Blackstone, vdth. a view to practise law there, but from his questions concerning the geography of the country, I foresee that his tastes will lead him to become one of its explorers. He will find room and verge enough in the Kong mountains and about the sources of the Niger, and if I desired to undertake an exploration of those regions, I know of few aids whom I would sooner choose.* There was no outbreathing from the regions below as we stood at the entrance to the CaA'^e, the upper atmosphere having precisely the same temperature. We advanced in single file down the Main Avenue, which, from the increased number of lamps, showed with greater distinctness than on our first trip. Without pausing at any of the objects of Interest on the road, we marched to the Giant's Coflii , crawled through the hole behind it, passed the Deserted Chambers, and reached the Bottomless Pit, the limit of our journey in this direction the previous day. Beyond the Pit we entered upon new ground. After passing from under its Moorish dome the ceiling became low and the path sinuous and rough. I could only walk by stooping considerably, and it is necessary to keep a sharp look-out to avoid striking your head against the trana^ verse jambs of rock. This passage is aptly called the Val ley of Humiliation. It branches off to the right intc * Stephen, however, remained at the cave untU manumitted by Death tie died in 1858. THE MAMMOTH CAVE. 207 another passage called Pensico Avenue, which contains some curious stalactitic formations, similar to the Gothic Gallery. We did not explore it, but turned to the left and entered an extremely narrow, winding passage, which meanders through the solid rock. It is called Fit Man's Misery, and any one whose body is more than eighteen inches in breadth will have trouble to get through. The largest man who ever passed it weighed two hundred and sixty pounds, and any gentleman weighing more than that must leave the best part of the cave unexplored. None of us came within the scope of prohibition (Nature, i\ seems, is opposed to corpulence), and after five minutes' twisting we emerged into a spacious hall called the Great Relief. Its continuation forms an avenue which leads to Bandits' Hall — a wild, rugged vault, the bottom of which is heaped with huge rocks that have fallen from above. All this part of the Cave is rich in striking and picturesque effects, and presents a more rude and irregular character than anything we had yet seen. At the end of Bandits' Hall is the Meat-Room, where a fine collection of limestone 'lams and shoulders are sus- pended from the ceiling, as in a smoke-house. The resem- blance, which is really curious, is entirely owing to the action of water. The air now grew perceptibly damp, and a few more steps brought us to the entrance of River Hall. Here the ceiling not only becomes loftier, but the floor gradually slopes away before you, and you look down into the vast depths and uncertain darkness, and question your- self if the Grecian fable be not indeed true. While I paused on the brink of these fresh mysteries the others of 208 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. the party had gone ahead under the charge of Mat Stephen, who remained with me, proposed that we should descend to the banks of the Styx and see them crossing the river upon the Natural Bridge. We soon stood upon the brink of the black, silent water ; the arch of the portal was scarcely visible in the obscurity far above us. Now, as far below, I saw the twinkle of a distant 'lamp, then another and another. " Is it possible," I asked, " that they have descended so much further ?" " You forget," said Stephen, " that you are looking into the river and see their reflected images. Stoop a Kttle and you will find that they are high above the water." I stooped, looked under an arch, and saw the slow procession of golden pomts of light passing over the gulf under the eaves of a great cliff; but another procession quite as distinct passed on below until the last lamp disappeared and all was darkness again. We then resumed the regular trail, which led us along the edge of a cliff about thirty feet above the waters of the Dead Sea, a gloomy pool, which is evidently connected with the Styx. An iron railing has been placed along the edge to protect those whose nerves are weak. At the end of the cliff we descended a long ladder, clambered over masses of rocks made slippery by the water, and gained the Natural Bridge, which is a narrow path or ledge around a projecting rock, bridging the river. The path is only about eighteen inches wide, and a false step would precipi tate the explorer thirty feet below into the Styx. Such is the caution of the guides, however, and the sense of secu- rity which even the most timid feel, that no accident has ever happened. Five minutes more and the roughest and THE MAMMOTH CAVB. 209 most slippery scrambling brought us to the banks of the Lethe River, where we found the rest of tl e party. The river had risen since the previous day, and was ai the most mconvenient stage possible. A part of the Rivei Walk was overflowed, yet not deep enough to float the boats. Mat waded out and turned the craft, which was moored to a projecting rock, as near to us as the watei would allow, after which he and Stephen carried us one by one upon their shoulders and deposited us in it. It was a rude, square scow, well plastered with river mud. Boardi^ were laid across for the ladies, the rest of us took our seats on the muddy gunwales, the guides plied their paddles, and we were afloat on Lethe. One hundred feet above our heads hung the vaulted rock ; half-way down there ran a regular cornice, arched on the under side, and with jagged edge, showing that there had formerly been two grand corridors, placed vertically, which some convulsion had broken into one. Either end of this mighty hall was lost in the darkness, but the sound of our voices rose to the roof and reverberated along it until they seemed like the voices of unseen beings speaking back to us out of the dis- tance. The water has a steady temperature of 54° ; it is clear, apparently of a pale green color, and pleasant to the taste. It had a very perceptible current, and flowed in a fliagonal course across tlie line of our march, or, as nearly tk I could estimate, in the direction of Green River. After a ferriage of about one hundred yards, we landed ©n a bank of soft mud beside a small arm of the river, which had overflowed the usual path. We sank to oui ancles in the moist, tenacious soil, floundering laboriously 210 AT HOME AND ABBOAB. along until we were brought to a halt by Echo River, th€ thii-d and last stream. This again is divided into three or four arms, which, meandering away under low arches, finally unite. At present, owing to the high water, there is but one arch open, so that instead of the usual single voyage of three quarters of a mile, we were obliged to make several short ferriages. Twice again were the guides obliged to carry us on their shoulders through the shal- lows, and once we succeeded in passing along a narrow ledge of rock overhanging a deep pool, only by using Stephen's foot as a stepping-stone. After crossing the second branch of Echo River we found ourselves at the foot of a steep hill of loose sand, beyond which we could see masses of rock piled up almost to the ceiling of the lofty hall. This was the commencement of Purgatory, a portion of which domain we were obliged to traverse on account of the difficulty of getting through what is called the Second Arch. Stephen here entered the boat alone, lay down on his back in the bottom, shot under a low projecting rock, and was soon lost to our sight. Under the guidance of Mat wo climbed the sand-hills, mounted the loosely-piled rocks, and after a short purgatorial experience, descended again to a low arch opening on the last branch of Echo River. A we stood on the wet rocks, peering down into the black translucence of the silent, mysterious water, sounds — firs distant, then near, then distant again — stole to us from under the groined vaults of rock. First, the dip of many oars; then a dull, muffled peal, rumbling away like the echoes of thunder ; then a voice mar^ ellously sweet, but THE MAMMOTH CAVB. 211 presently joined by others sweeter still, taking up the dying notes ere they faded into silence, and prolonging them through remoter chambers. The full, mellow strams rose until they seemed sung at our very ears, then relapsed like ebbing waves, to wander off into solitary halls, then approached again, and receded, like lost spirits seeldng here and there for an outlet from the wodd of darkness. Oi was it a chorus of angels come on some errand of pity and mercy to visit the Stygian shores ? As the heavenly har- monies thickened, we saw a gleam on the water, and pre- sently a clear light, li eating above its mirrored counterfeit, swept into sight. It w^as no angel, but Stephen, whose single voice had been multiplied into that enchanting chorus. The w^hole party embarked in two small boats, and after a last voyage of about two hundred yards, were landed beyond the waters, and free to explore the w^onderful avenues of that new world of which Stephen is the Colum- bus. The River Hall here terminates, and the passages are broken and irregular for a short distance. A few minutes of rough travel brought us to a large circular hall with a vaulted ceiling, from the centre of which poured a cascade of crystal water, striking upon the slant side of a large reclining boulder, and finally disappearing through a funnel- shaped pit in the floor. It sparkled like a shower of pearls m the Ught of our lamps, as we clustered around the brink of the pit to drink from the stores gathered in those natu- ral bowls which seem to have been hollowed out for the OSes of the invisible gnomes. Beyond Cascade Hall commences Silliman's Avenue, a AT HOME AND ABBOAD. passage about twenty feet wide, forty or fifty in heigli'^ and a mile and a half in length. The floor is in some places smooth and firm, in others broken and rough, with deep dips which often communicate with smaller j)assage8 or " side cuts " that, after winding through the rock for ome distance, find their way back to the main avenue. Th^' walls on either side have bold, projecting cornices, above which springs a well-arched ceiling. There are few objects of special interest in this avenue, but I was never tired of watching the procession of lamps as they wound up and down its rocky iioor, and the picturesque play of light and shade on the gray wails and cornices, the niches and hollow vaults. After a steady walk of a mile and a half — the distance is not exaggerated, for I timed it — we reached a gigantic blufi*, which, facing us, divided the avenue into two parts. That to the left retains the name of SUliman, and continues for nearly a mile further without leading to any result* The other was called " The Pass of El Ghor " by some traveller who had been in Arabia Petraea — but the name is a pleonasm, as el ghor signifies a narrow, difficult pass between rocks. While we rested a few minutes on some broad stones at the base of the cliff Stephen climbed up to the platform behind the broad cornice of the wall, and brought us down a handful of fibrous gypsum as white as BUG w. The ladies eagerly appropriated pieces of it as speci- mens, but he observed depreciatingly, "You will throw that away before long." Our lamps were replenished and we entered El Ghor, which is by far the most picturesque avenue in the cave, II THE MAMMOTH CAVK. 213 18 a narrow, loft} passage meanderiug through the heart of a mass of horizontal strata of limestone, the broken edges of which assume the most remarkable forms. Now there are rows of broad, flat shelves overhanging your head ; now you sweep around the stern of some mighty vessel with its rudder set hard to starboard ; now you enter a lit- tle vestibule with friezes and mouldings of almost Doric symmetry and simplicity ; and now you wind away into a Cretan labyrinth most uncouth and fantastic, whereof the Minotaur would be a proper inhabitant. It is a continual succession of surprises, and, to the appreciative visitor, of raptures. The pass is somewhat more than a mile and a half in length, and terminates in a curious knot or entanglement of passages leading to two or more tiers of avenues. We were now, according to Stephen's promises, on tlie threshold of wonders. Before proceeding further \^ e stopped to drmk from a fine sulphur spring which fills a natural basm in the bottom of a niche made on purpose to contain it. We then climbed a perpendicular ladder, passing through a hole in the ceiling barely large enough to admit our bodies, and found ourselves at the entrance of a narrow, lofty passage leading upwards. When all had made the ascent the guides exultingly lifted their lamps and directed our eyes to the rocks overhanging the aperture. There was the first wonder, truly ! Clusters of grapes gkaming with blue and violet tints through the water wnich trickled over them, hung from the clifls, while a stout vine, springing from the base and climbing nearly to the top, seemed to support them. Hundreds on hundreds 2U AT HOME AND ABKOAD. of bunches clustering so thickly as to conceal the leaves, hang for ever ripe and for ever unplucked in that marvellous vintage of the subterranean world. For whose hand shall squeeze the black, infernal wine from the grapes that grow beyond Lethe ? Mounting for a short distance, this new avenue suddenly turned to the left, widened, and became level ; the ceiling i.^ low, but beautifully vaulted, and Washington's Hall, which we soon reached, is circular, and upwards of a hundred feet in diameter. This is the usual dining-room of parties who go beyond the rivers. Nearly five hours had now elapsed since we entered the cave, and five hours spent in that bracing, stimulating atmosphere might well justify the longing glances which we cast upon the baskets carried by the guides. Mr. Miller had foreseen our appetites, and there were stores of venison, biscuit, ham, and pastry, more than sufficient for all. We made our raid-day or rather mid- night meal sitting, like the nymph who wi'ought Excalibar " Upon the hidden bases of the hills," buried far below the green Kentucky forests, far below the forgotten sunshine. For in the cave you forget that there is an outer world somewhere above you. The hours have no meaning : Time ceases to be : no thought of labor, no ense of responsibility, no twinge of conscience, intrudes to suggest the existence you have left. You walk 'n some limbo beyond the confines of actual life, yet no nearer the world of spirits. For my part I could not shake off the impression that I was wandering on the outside of Uranis THE MAMMOTH CATE. 216 or Neptune, or some planet still more deejiy buried in the frontier darkness of our solar system. Washington Hall marks the commencement of Elindo Avenue^ a straight hall about sixty feet wide, twenty in height, and two miles long. It is completely incrusted from end to end with crystallizations of gypsum, white as snow This is the crowning marvel of the cave, the pride and the boast of the guides. Their satisfaction is no less than yours, as they lead you through the diamond grottoes, the gardens of sparry efflorescence, and the gleaming vaults of this magical avenue. We first entered the "Snow-ball Room," where the gnome-children in their sports have peppered the gray walls and ceiling with thousands of snow-white projecting discs, so perfect in their fragile beauty, that they seem ready to melt away under the blaze of your lamp. Then commences Cleveland's Cabinet, a gallery of crystals, the richness and variety of which bewilder you. It is a subterranean conservatory, filled with the flowers of all the zones ; for there are few blossoms expanding on the upper earth but are mimicked in these gardens of Darkness. I cannot lead you from niche to niche, and from room to room, examining in detail the enchanted growths ; they are all so rich and so wonder- ful that the memory does not attempt to retain them. Sometimes the hard limestone rock is changed into a parterre of white roses ; sometimes it is starred with opening daisies ; the sunflowers spread their flat discs and rayed leaves ; the feathery chalices of the cactus hang from the clefts ; the night-blooming cereus opens securely Der snowy cup, for the morning never comes to close it ; 816 AT HOME AND ABKOAU. the tulip is here a vii'gin, and knows not that her sisten above are clothed in the scarlet of shame. In many places the ceiling is covered with a mammary crystallization, as if a myriad bubbles were rising beneath its glittering surface. Even on this jewelled soil which sparkles all around you, grow the lilies and roses, singly overhead, but clustering together towards the base of the vault, where they give place to long, snowy, pendulous cac- tus-flowers, which droop Uke a fringe around diamonded niches. Here you see the passion-flower, with its curiously curved pistils ; there an u'is with its lanceolate leaves ; and again, bunches of celery with stalks white and tender enough for a fairy's dinner. There are occasional patches of gyp- sum, tinged of a deep amber color by the presence of iron. Through the whole length of the avenue there is no cessa- tion of the wondrous work. The pale rock-blooms burst forth everywhere, crowding on each other until the brittle sprays cannot bear their weight, and they fall to the floor. The slow, silent efflorescence still goes on, as it has done for ages in that buried tropic. What mostly struck me in my underground travels was the evidence of design which I found everywhere. Why should the forms of the Earth's outer crust, her flowers and fruits, the very heaven itself which spans her, be so wonder- fully reproduced ? What laws shape the blossoms and the foliage of that vast crystalline garden ? There seemed to be something more than the accidental combinations of a blind Chance in what I saw — some evidence of an informing and directing Will. In the secret caverns, the agencies which produced their wonders have been at work for thou THE MAMMOTU CAT El. 217 jsands of years, perhaps thousands of ages, fashioning the sparry splendors in the womb of darkness with as exquisite a grace, as true an instinct of beauty as in the palm or the lily, which are moulded by the hands of the sun. What power is it which lies behind the mere chemistry of IsTature, mpregnating her atoms with such subtle laws of symmetry ? What but the Divine Will, which first gave her being, an AB/i:OAB, I left ill the midnight train for Chicago, At Blcoming ton, which we reached at 2 a.m., our conductor left us , but his substitute did not make his appearance. The train waited, the passengers grew impatient, but nobody kneAV where the gentleman lodged; there was no one in the office who cared to look after the matter; the engmeer said it was not his business, and so the train still waited. After a strong remonstrance from some passengers who were bound east and feared to lose the morning trains from Chicago, a man was sent to search for the conductor, but he returned unsuccessful. Finally, at daybreak, after a delay of two hours and a quarter, the missing man appeared — ^having overslept his time. He remarked, jo- cosely, "You've been waiting, I guess,'' and started the train. But, owing to the delay, we met the down train in the centre of a wide prairie, backed ten or twelve miles to Bwitch off, waited for a Rock Island train at Joliet, and came into Chicago about noon — ^losing the morning trains and obliging the Eastern travellers to spend their Sunday in Cleveland instead of New York. / The difference of season between St. Louis and Chicago is very apparent. We left the trees in summer foliage at the former place, and watched the green gradually grow paler and paler, until, on the shore of Lake Michigan, only the buds of the earliest trees were open, and their leaves half-grown. The great prairie between Bloomington and Vermilion River was spread out flat to the horizon like a green ocean, sprinkled with flakes of pink and blue and golden and crimson foam. It was a great contrast to the dreary, brown expanse I had looked upon during the MACKINAW, AND THE LAKES. 229 winter. But a prairie cannot be properly appreciated from the window of a railroad car. I longed for the little black Ardb of Newark, Ohio, or the gray Morgan of Dixon, to career across its flowery soHtude, chasing the flying horizon. Give me a prairie for a race-course or a huntmg-ground ; but not — though it yield me 150 bushele of corn per acre — for a habitation ! Having already tried every railroad leading out of Chi cago, I determined to return home by the Lakes. The steamers on the new route to CoUingwood and Toronto had just commenced running, and offered the greatest inducements in the way of scenery ; so we took passage on the " Queen City," and left Chicago at a late hour on Sunday evening, the 20th. The boat, w^hich was a fleet and handsome steamer, newly fitted up for the season, was not crowded, and we secured pleasant state-rooms in the after cabin. We found intelligent and amiable officers, an attentive steward, a good table, and all other requisites to the enjoyment of a lake voyage, and were favored, in addi- tion, with the smoothest water and the clearest skies. When I awoke next morning, we were in Milwaukee River. Here the boat was detained a day in order to take in freight ; and I had the opportunity of revisiting some Wisconsin friends. The stay was made fortunate by an unexpected meeting with two shipmates of the Japan Expedition ; and I heard the adventurous youth who climbed with me the precipices of the Bonin Islands relate his more perilous feat of scaling the walls of Nan- king and astonishing the Chinese rebels. In the evening it was discovered that the boiler had sprung a leak, and 2S0 AT HOME AND ABROAD. that the necessary repah's would detain us another day — a delay which none of us regretted. Milwaukee is as pleasant a place to visit as it is beautifiil to look upon. Seen from the hills in the rear, with its pale yellow houses rising against the blue of the lake, it is a copy, in cooler tints, of some town on the Mediterranean shores. As I was sauntering down to the boat on the second evening I was overtaken by an African gentleman of pecu- liar blackness and purity of race. He accosted me — de- siring to know where the mailboat from Chicago came in. I pointed out what I supposed to be the place, whereupon he drew near and commenced a more confidential conversa- tion. " I'm gwine down to the boat," said he, " 'cause of a lady and gentleman. De gentleman I seed a while ago in de street ; de lady — she's coming in de boat. I'se bound to be dar when de lady comes." Supposing he had been dispatched by some gentleman to meet an expected guest, I asked, " Will you know the lady when you see her ? " Gosh ! " he answered, with a grin ; " I'se ought to know her — she's my wife ! She's comin' on, thinkin' she's gwine for to marry de gentleman what I seed ; but I tell you she don't marry nobody else in dis here State 'ceptin' myself.'* He added that he had only been married three months, in which time she had spent all his money, and that he had known her intention of running away from him a week previous. "Well," said I, "if you knew it, why didn't you take measures to prevent her ? " " Oh," he answered, chuckling at his own sagacity ; " I tought I'd jist wait, and see whether she'd be elewated enough to go." The othei gentleman, Ire informed me, was in the whitewashing busi MACKINAW, AND THE LAKES. 231 oess, l>ut — with a shake of the head and a display of ivory — ^he'd "spile dat gentleman's 'spectorations ; he'll make no more contracts in dat dere line." I regretted that I could not await the arrival of the boat and witness the meeting, which must have been still more characteristia and diverting. We left Milwaukee at sunrise on Wednesday morning, running northward along the Wisconsm shore. The coun- try is low and covered with woods except where they are broken in upon by small farms, picketed here and there like the advanced sentries of that besieging civilization which shall soon sweep away the serried ranks of the forest. The pine becomes more frequent, lifting its dark, ragged arms high above the gray of the budding birch and the faint green of the larch. Ozaukee or Port Washington, thirty miles north of Milwaukee, appears to great advan- tage from the lake, with its clusters of white houses rising gradually from the water's edge to the summit of the low hills. Sheboygan, which we reached about noon, is a con- siderably larger and more important place. It is one of the outlets of the rich and growing country around and beyond Lake Winnebago, and is connected by a plankroad with Fond du Lac. Judging from the number of buildings in the course of erection, it is no exception to the general law of progress in the West. Li the afternoon we touched at Manitowoc and Two Rivers, both so young that there is barely ground enough cleared for them to stand upon, and the primitive forest still shuts out their sunset view. There are already stores, taverns, German lager-beer sdoons, and other signs of £32 AT HOME AND ABROAD. growth in abundance. The Michigan shore, altl^ough be* tween sixty and seventy miles distant, was lifted into the air by a mirage, and distinctly visible. This effect is con* tinned until after sunset ; and I even saw Manitou Island^ fiixty-five miles off, by moonlight. The air was clear bracing, and pure, but so cold that I did not venture on deck without a thick overcoat. In the morning we were opposite Beaver Island, where a branch of the Mormon sect is colonized. So far as I could learn they are not polygamists, and are independent of the Salt Lake organization. The Michigan shores soon after- wards came into sight, and a lighthouse far ahead an- nounced our approach to Mackinaw Straits. The country on both sides is densely covered with woods, which in isome places were on fire, sending thick columns of smoke into the air. I noticed several steam saw-mills, and some new frame houses standing in cleared spots, but the greater part of the coast is yet uninvaded by settlers. Passing the promontory of St. Ignace, on the northern shore, we en- tered Lake Huron, heading for Mackinaw Island, which is about twenty miles distant. The long island of Bois Blanc lay to the southward. The surface of the lake was scarcely ruffled by the sweet western wind ; the sky was of a pale, transparent blue, and the shores and islands were as sharply and clearly defined as if carved on a crystal tablet. It was a genuine Northern realm we had entered — no warmth, no depth of color, no undulating grace of outline, but bold, abrupt, positive form, cold, pure brilliancy of atmosphere, and an expression of vigor and reality which would make dreams impossible. If there is any air in which Action is MACKINAW, AND THE LAKES. 23fi the very cliann and flavor of Life, and not its curse, it \» the air of Mackinaw. We ran rapidly up to the town, which is built at the foot of the bluffs, on the southern side. A fort, adapted foi times of peace and with a small garrison, overlooks it. The houses are mostly of wood, scattered along the shore, with few trees and fewer gardens interspersed. The ap- pearance of the place is nevertheless very picturesque, with the wooded centre of the island rising in the rear, and the precipitous cliffs of gray rock flanking it on both sides* The associations of two centuries Unger about those cliffs, and the names of Hennepm, La Salle, Marquette, and other pioneers of Western civilization make them classic ground to the reader of American history. We remained five hours in order to take on some coal, which two schooners were discharging at the pier. I made use of the time to stroll over the island and visit its two lions — ^the Sugar Loaf and the Arched Rock. The road, after we had passed through the fort, led through woods of budding birch, and the fragrant arbor-vitae (thuya occi- dentalis), which turned the air into a resinous wine, as grateful to the lungs as Falernian to the palate. We passed around the foot of the central hill, three hmidred feet high, whereon are the remains of the old fortifications. On a terrace between it and the eastern cliffs stands the Sugar Loaf — a pointed, isolated rock seventy feet high. The rock, which appeared to be secondary limestone, is honeycombed by the weather, and reminded me very Btrikingly of Banner Rock," in the interior of the island of Loo-Choo. The structure is precisely similar, and th« 234 AT HOME AND ABROAD. height very nearly the same. We now struck across the woods, which abounded with anemones and white trilliuma m blossom, to the edge of the cliffs, w^hich we followed for some distance, catching occasional glimpses through the thick clumps of arbor -vitae of the transparent lake below and the Northern shore, stretching away to Sault St. Marie and Lake Superior. The forests in that direction were burning, and the dense volumes of white smoke, carried southward by the wind, blotted out the Eastern horizon for a space of thirty or forty miles. The Arched Rock stands a little apart from the line of the cliffs, with which it is connected by a narrow ledge. It is one hundred and fifty feet high, forming a rude natural portal, through which you can look out upon the lake. The arch is ten feet thick, and in the centre not more than eighteen inches wide. I climbed out to the keystone, but the rock was so loose and disintegrated that I did not venture to cross the remaining portion. On our return to the boat I visited some Chippewa families, who were en camped upon the beach, but as they knew neither English nor French, the conversation was limited. The water of the lake is clear as crystal and cold as ice, and I had an opportunity to verify the reports of its marvellous trans- parency. The bottom is distuictly visible at the depth of from fifty to sixty feet. We left Mackinaw towards evening, and at sunrise next morning were abreast of the Isle of Coves, at the entrance of the Georgian Bay. The islands which separate the Bay from Lake Huron are rather low, but those beyond, lying nearer the Canada shore, rise abruptly from the water ir MACKINAW, AND THE LAKES. 235 jiiffs of red rock, crowned with forests of larch and pine. Alternately advancing and retreating behind each other aa we passed along before them, they presented a shifting diorama of the wildest forms. The sky was cloudless, softened vdth a slight haze, and the air so cold that the water used in washing the decks made icicles on the guards. Cabot's Head, the north-eastern point of the Canadian promontory, terminates in a range of precipices two hundred feet high, back of which the unbroken forest sweeps away into a wide, rolling, upland region, which is said to be an admirable wheat country wherever it has been cleared. After passing the Head we lost sight of the coast, which trends southward for a time ; but our attention was called to the steamer Keystone State of the Collingwood Line, which bad passed us at Milwaukee, but which we were now rapidly overhauling. It was not a race, for the Queen City had already proved herself the swiftest, but we were not unwilling to see her prove it again. As the Keystone State fell into our wake, the shore east of Owen's Sound came into sight on the right hand, and Christian's Sound on our left, showing that we were ap- proaching the head of the Bay. The distance from the Isle of Coves to Collingwood is about 100 miles. The southern coast was still bold and precipitous, resembling the Hudson Palisades, to within ten miles of the latter place, w^hen it gradually sloped down to a low country overgrown wdth the densest of forests. The smokes of Spring dealings were burning far and wide on the hill-sides, and as we turned in towards Collingwood, the very sunshine w^as o]> Bcured by them. We entered the harbor, or rather road- 236 AT HOME AND ABROAD. stead, cautiously, sounding our way along a narrow channel, which has been marked by buoys, between two shoals. The town of CoUingwood, which now contains about eighty houses, is only a year old, and most of the lots are stiJl in the primitive forest. The purchaser may build his shanty with the timber he cuts off to make room for it. The streets are full of stumps, the dwellings are of fresh, un- painted clapboards, and there is not yet a hotel in the place. The Ontario, Simcoe, and Huron Railroad Company have built out a pier, with a large storehouse at the extre- mity, on both sides of which steamers can be moored and tranship their passengers and freight directly into the cars. In this respect the arrangements are ds convenient and expeditious as could be desired. We found a train for Toronto in waiting, and as the Keystone State arrived soon afterwards with her load of passengers, the cars were overcrowded until we reached Barrie. We bade good-bye to Capt. Wilkins, whom we shall long remember as one of the kindest and most genial of commanders, passed through tlie future CoUingwood, and in the twinkling of an eye were deep in the heart of the forest. The trunks of the trees in many places almost touched each other, so thick was the growth, and those which had been cut away to make room for the road were piled up on either hand to be burned. The work had al- ready commenced here and there: the huge logs were masses of live coal roaring and crackling with a mighty sound, while sheets of bright-red flame eddied among the smaller limbs, and clouds of smoke swept around us, pour- ing into the cars in stifling volumes. As we sped op at th« MACKINAW, AND THE LAKES. 237 rate of thirty miles an hour through these avenues of flame, which the wind occasionally hurled into our very faces, I felt ready to agree with a rough fellow, who said in plain Saxon, We're going to Hell, sure." The scene wat certainly infernal enough to justify the suspicion. After passing Barrie, a beautiful town on Lake Simcoe, we entered a more advanced region. Clearings became abundant, and substantial farmhouses replaced the primi- tive shanties. The season changed also ; the willows were in full leaf, the elms half-fledged, and the maples cast an entire shadow. The country was rich, undulating, and beautiful, becoming more thickly settled as we advanced, unt I having finished our ninety-four miles in three hom sMid % half, we reached Toronto. XX. A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. [AUeXJST, 1850.] L — Halifax and Port-aux-Basqubs. Thb steamer James Adger, chartered by the New Tort and }!irewfoundland Telegraph Company for the purpose of laying the submarine cable across the Gulf of St. Lawrence, left New York on the 7th of August. In addition to Peter Cooper,Cyrus W. Field, and Professor Morse — ^the managers of the enterprise — and their families, a large number of invited guests, several of whom were ladies, accompanied the expedition. A summer voyage to regions then so little known presented strong attractions, and the trip was commenced under the most cheerful and agreeable auspices. The line of telegraph from New York to St. Johns, which was then nearly completed, with the excep- tion of the submarine portion, was the precursor of the Transatlantici Cable, and the prospect of finally carrying A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 231^ out the great undertaking gave an increased interest to this initiatory step. A voyage of three days, during which we enjoyed both extremes of sea-experience — a cahn and a storm — ^brought us to Halifax. As Capt. Turner designed taking on board supply of coal, we had three hours' leave of absence to v.'sit the lions of the place. Our appearance created but little sensation. Several gentle; nen who were interested in the Company came down to greet Mr. Field, and a few ragged boys in search of employment and reward grouped about the pier-posts ; but beyond these there was neither astonishment nor curiosity concerning us. No cry of " Carriage, Sir ?" greeted us from the pier ; no hotel-runner thrust greasy cards into our hands ; no loafing idlers were there to stare at us or openly criticise our appearance ; but we landed and walked up into the town without attracting more notice than so many of its own quiet denizens. The general impression was that Halifax is a slow place. For my part I found this Oriental indifference quite refreshing, and was not disposed to complain of it. It is pleasant to find that there are communities on the American side of our globe which are slow to become excited. The town stretches along the harbor and around the foot of a fortified hill, and consists mainly of two long streets crossed by a number of steep short ones. The houses are dingy wooden structures, interspersed with an occasional stone or brick building, or a plain, dark-colored English church with a tall spire. My companion, who w^as a Briton, insisted that we had LOt yet reached the principal part of the to^vTi ; but after passing the parade ground and 240 AT HOME AND ABROAD. the Government buildings — a square pile of semi-Grecian architecture — ^he was forced to admit that we had seen the best it had to offer. We engaged a one-horse carriage — the Halifax boys called it a " conveyance carriage," whence, I suppose, the keeper of carriages to hire is a conveyancer— and ascended to Fort George, the citadel. Another com pany of our passengers arrived at the same time and were boldly entering, when they were stopped on the drawbridge by the sentinel, who stated that no one was allowed to pass without an order from the Quartermaster-General. A soldier off duty went around the shoulder of the hill to point out the office of that functionary to two of us, who undertook to procure the permission. We were for tunate enough to meet the Deputy-Quartermaster at the door. On making known our desire, he at once wrote an order for the admittance of the whole party. We crossed the drawbridge, passed through a heavy stone arch tunnel- ling the ramparts, and found ourselves in a spacious in- closure, where two companies of raw recruits for the siege of Sebastopol were going through their drill. They were mostly Germans, and seemed anything but easy while they stood at ease, and not a little disordered while they ordered arras. The raw material was good enough, no doubt, but it needed a great amount of discipline to pro- duce from it the solid English files — the bulwarks of battle One of our company, who was a clergyman, took occasiou to make a few remarks on the immorality of war in general, and the Eastern War in particular, to two subalterns who were lounging on the rampart in the shade of a sentry-box. But I fear he was sowing seed on stony ground. A. TBLEQKAFmC TBIP TO NEWFOTJNDLA^TD. 241 We mounted to the parapet and made the ch*cuit of the fortress, looking over its coping on a beautiful picture of Nova-Scotian scenery. The crescent-shaped town half en- circled the hill, its extremities stretching back towards the country in lines of suburban villas. The harbor, with Mc- IsTab's Island lying across its mouth, extended beyond the town, sending a blue arm several miles further, where it bent out of sight among woody hills. Directly opposite lay Dartmouth, a small town of white wooden houses, with a church or two, and a background of dark green hills, partly clothed with forests, and their lower slopes dotted with cottages and farm-houses. On either side of MclSTab's Island, over the white hne of the ever-foaming breakers, was an azure segment of ocean. Turning to the south and west, we looked inland across a level of farm-land, to ranges of dark wooded hills, with scarps of white rock jutting out here and there along their summits. The wind was strong, with a cool, October tang in it ; the dark hills and the pale sky were alike suggestive of the North ; yet the people complained of the heat, and imagmed themselves in the midst of summer ! After dinner a small party of us w^ent ashore to employ the remaining hour and a half in a gallop into the country, but neither saddle-horse nor carriage was to be had. " It is the first fair day after a rain," said the conveyancers, " and everybody is a riding out." Finally we found a man who offered us the identical carriage in which the Admiral had ridden that very morning, for four dollars; but on learning that we were Yankees, and did not consider the Adraiitil's seat a peculiar honor he reduced his demand tc 242 AT HOME AND ABROAD. three dollars. We had a pair of matched grays and a raddy, red-whiskered coachman, and whirled out around the foot of the citadel in gallant style. A good macada* mized road conducted us out of the town, where we came at once upon hay and grain fields. The grass had just been cut, and the air was full of its fragrance. Wheat and barley were in head, but had not yet begun to ripen. A drive of two miles, partly through thickets and patches of fir and larch trees, brought us to the head of the main arm of the inner harbor, which is completely landlocked. Sur- rounded by dark green hills, with not a vessel, and but two or three houses in sight, it resembled a lonely inland lake. The sight of the clear, green waters dancing to the shore tempted us to leave the Admiral's carriage and take a hasty bath. The bottom was covered with a growth of brilliant sea-weed, whose branching streamers of purple and emerald reached to my waist, threatening to drag me down, like Hylas, to the Nova-Scotian naiads ; but no watei could be more deliciously cold and invigorating. By thi» time it was six o'clock, and the cool shadows of evening were creeping across the landscape. The grays trotted merrily back along the shore-road, and we reached the pier to find the James Adger with steam up, and all on board except the gentleman from Truro. We waited half an hour longer, but the gentleman from Truro did not come, notwithstanding an express had been sent eighteen miles into the country to meet him. Mr. Field then reluctantly gave the order to leave. As tho gteamer glided out of the dock, the passengers, gathered on the quarter-deck and paddle-boxes, gave three parting A TELEGRAPHIC TEIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 243 cheers. There were a number of persons on the piei, who received the salute with perfect equanimity. We then gave them three times three, and succeeded in eliciting two in return. An old fisherman of the place profited by our delay in disposing of two baskets of " murr's eggs." These are the eggs of a seafowl on the coast of Labrador. They are about the size of a turkey's egg, pointed at one end, and of a pale-blue color, curiously spotted, and streaked with black. The fisherman informed us that " the gentry eats 'em," and we had some of them boiled, but after testing the odor thereof, none of us had courage to break the shell. I kept one as a curiosity, greatly to my embarrassment. I could not have it boiled, for they crack in boiling ; I could not pack it away, for fear of smashing it ; I could neither carry it about with me, nor leave it in my state-room with- out great risk, but was constantlv troubled by it until the last day of the voyage, when it was broken. While in Halifax we obtained a pilot for Newfoundland : a little, brown, wiry, wide-awake fellow, who had gathered coast-knowledge in many a tough north-easter. His own apparent self-reliance inspired confidence in us, and we sailed for the Land of Fogs with a glow of cheerful expec- tation. It was dusk before we emerged from the harbor, but the long northern twihght lingered on the borders of the «ky ; and, as night deepened, the stars shone more brightly than they ever shone before, to our eyes. The planet Jupitei cast a long wake upon the sea ; the Milky Way burned like a luminous cloud, making pale the lustre of the neighboring fttars ; while scarcely a minute elapsed but some meteor shot across the heavens, leaving a silvery trail behind it 244 AT HOME AND ABROAD. There seemed not one vault only, but deeps beyoni deeps of glory, overspanning each other until the eye ceased to follow them. The meteors, some far, swift, and faint, some n\ SLY and dazzling, fell from the inner to the outer circles of the heavens, like telegraphic messages between the several "spiritual spheres." Many of our company re- mained on deck till nearly midnight, notwithstanding the sold northern wind. All the next forenoon we ran along the dark Nova Seo- tian shores ; the sea, the sky, and the land were alike cheer- less and forbidding, and the air so cold that we felt a chill through overcoats and thick shawls. The coast was low and undulating, covered with fir forests which looked black under the clouds, and faced wdth rugged ramparts of gray rock. A few fishing craft were hovering outside the break- ers, ready to run into any sheltered cove in case the wind should increase to a gale, as it threatened. Towards noon we made the light on Cape Canso, and shortly afterwards crossed the mouth of the Gut of Canso, which divides Nova Scotia from Cape Breton Island. The coast of Cape Breton is from six to eight hundred feet high, and presents a bold front to the sea. Its aspect is peculiarly desolate on an overcast day. In the evening, we passed Cape Pleasant, not more than six miles ftom the old harbor and town of Louisbourg, so famous in our Colonial history. The ruins of the ancient French fortifications are still to be seen, but the trade of the tOAvn has long since been transfi^Ted to Halifax and Sydney, and it is now almost deserted. It in the only spot in the north-east which is prominent in oui early history, and must still be a very interesting old place L TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 246 At midnight we entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence, The sky was cloudless, inconceivably clear and radiant, and an arch of white auroral fire spanned the northern horizon. It was so brilliant as to cast a glow upon the water, and to make the segment of sky inclosed within it appear black by contrast. It steadily brightened until the arch broke, when the fragments gathered into lustrous balls, or nuclei, which sent long streamers and dancing tongues of light almost to the zenith. Then the whole pageant faded away, to be reborn in the air, and brighten as before. The expected gale did not come, and the next morning was as splendidly clear as an Arctic midsummer. We sailed between two hemispheres of blue, fanned by a wind which was a tonic to both soul and body. The only vapor which blurred the horizon was a white, filmy band, lying over the coast of Newfoundland, dead ahead. I saw the faint blue loom of land early in the morning, when it must have been between thirty and forty miles distant, but the outline of the coast was not very distinct until about nine o'clock. Immediately after breakfast there were religious services in the after cabin — prayers by the Rev. Dr. Spring and Mr. Sherwood, and a sermon by Mr. Field. An hour or more passed in the performance of this duty, and when Wfc ascended to the deck we were rapidly ncaring the long line of bold, barren hills. Cape Ray, the extreme southwestern point of the island, was on our left, rising from the sea in a lofty conical peak, which was separated by a broad natural gap from the mountain-wall, 1,200 feet in height, which rose inland, behind the southern coast. The aspect of this shore was sublime in its very blenkuess. Not a tree was to be 246 AT HOME AND ABBOAB, seen, and the gray of its hoary rocks was but partiallj veiled by the grass and stunted shrubs coaxed into life bj the short Summer of this latitude. Our pilot headed directly for Port-aux-Basques, our destination, but to the eye the coast presented a long line of iron rocks, without any apparent place of shelter. Even after we had made out the straggling huts of the fishermen, along the brow of the cliffs, and seen then tanned sails creeping outside the line of snow-white surf, there was no sign of a harbor, such as our chart indi- cated. Our little pilot, however, knew the ground, and when he had brought us within half a mile of the gray rocks, we saw the narrow mouth of the harbor on their right. The hue of the water showed deep soundings everywhere, and we ran securely into the port, which was deserted, except by a fishing boat that put out to meet us The bark Sarah L. Bryant, which sailed from Liverpool on the 3d of July with the submarine cable on board, had not arrived. We were too soon for our errand, and the chiefs of the company immediately decided to leave for St. Johns, after communicating with the shore. I seized this chance of putting my foot on Newfound- land soil. We jumped into a rough but very serviceable boat, of native manufacture, manned by two oarsmen — . stout, lusty fellows, with red cheeks, tanned breasts, and clear, honest, cheerful eyes. Half way to the shore a tour- oared boat met us, with Mr. Canning, the engineer of the Mediterranean Submarine Telegraph, on board. He had come from England especially to superintend the laying of the cable to Cape Breton, and had already been two weekf A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAOT). 245 at Port-aux-Basques. He was quite a young man, but active and resolute in appearance. We passed behind the piles of gray, weather-beaten rocks, which we now saw formed an island, called Channel Head by the boatmen. The water was full of floating kelp of great size, and the oars and rudder frequently became tangled in it. In the narrow strait between the rocks and the mainland the water was shallow, showing a rich and brilliant vegetation. The rocky bottom was covered with sea-mosses of the purest emerald, purple, dark-red, and amber hues, over which dragged the long orange stems, and thin, glutinous ruffles of the kelp. But now we approached the village, whose one-story wooden houses began to stud the bluff, grassy knobs. Further back, on higher mounds, were groups of the inhabitants, principally women, who seemed to be watching us. We sprang ashore on some rocks, climbed the hill, despite the fishy odors which saluted us, and were in the village of Port-aux-Basques. It was one of the queerest places in the world. Fancy a line of the roughest mounds or knobs, formed of marshy soil sprinkled with boulders of gneiss, or some kindred rock, and flung together in the most confused and irregular maimer possible. Drop a square, clapboarded, veteran hat here, and another there, with a studied avoidance of order; stack quantities of dried codfish, after the mannei of haycocks, in any convenient place ; infuse a smell ot Baited fish into the air and a smell of cooked fish into the ants ; add a few handsomer dogs, some stalwart specimens ol men, and children each of whom would furnish vitality 248 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. for four New Yorkers — and you have the prominent fea? tures of the place. Where there were no rocks there was swamp, even on the hill-tops ; and where the grass and weeds had bridged over the oozy soil, it was as elastic be- neath our feet as a floor of India-rubber. The vegetation was that of Spring and Autumn pombined ; the golden ra- unculus was in blossom beside the aster and the golden rod ; the delicate blue harebell grew beside the white flower- ing elder bush; the fragrant, vernal grasses scented the air (in places distant from fish) ; and the azure ii'is, or fleur- de-lis^ rose in thick beds between the rocks. The village contains between seventy and a hundred houses, which are scattered along the knobs for a distance of three-quarters of a mile. These knobs are separated by ravines, \wo of which are crossed by wooden bridges. There are footpaths branching in all directions, but I saw nothing like a regular road. Near the centre of the place, at the head of the sheltered cove, there is a large two-story building for the storage of fish. A flagstaff behind it had the English and American ensigns hoisted together. Hereabouts the stacks of dried fish were very plentiful. I was forcibly reminded of the description of the Norwegian fish-market at Lofoden, in Mtigge's romance of " Afraja." Some of the houses were painted white or dark- red, but the greater part showed the dingy, leaden hue of he native wood. There was neither tavern, church, noi Btore to be seen, but we were told that various articleii might be bought at the house of a man named Waddell — which house was distinguished by the figure-head of the Prince Charles, lost on this coast, planted beside it A TELEGBAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDIAND. 249 There is also service on Sundays, occasionally; but the minister, it seems, had charge of several similar parishes, and was preaching somewhere in the wilderness. This fact might have explained the absence of the inhabitants^ who had gone forth for a holiday, but I half suspected tha they had retreated at our approach, out of shyness or fear Many of them have never seen any other part of the world When the Telegraphic Company sent two horses there the year pre\dous, there was a great excitement in the place. Horses had never been seen before, except in pictures. Those which were left to winter there were speedily slaughtered and eaten. The line of telegraph poles, how- ever, which crosses the hills, is a streak of light which will soon illuminate this benighted corner of the world. I was much struck with the free, vigorous, healthy look of the inhabitants. The men were noble examples of physical vigor. The women — except one old dame — I did not see ; but the children showed the soundness of the stock from which they sprang. There was one little gW, v»^ith a cloud of auburn curls around her head, whose blue eye and tan-roseate cheek made a very sunshine in the shaded doorway where she sat. The men were not only pre-eminently healthy and vigorous, but they had honest, happy, reliable faces — faces which it strengthens you to look upon. I should be perfectly willing to spend a month >r two among them, notwithstanding their rude mode of ife, and their ^'omplete isolation. We had but m hour allowed us, and so went springing from rock to rock, or bounding over the elastic marshes, inhaling altei nate whiffs of fish and flowers, until we had 250 AT HOME Am> ABBOAB. made a rapid tour of the village. Under that glorious sky^ and in the breath of that bracing air, the scenery had a singular charm for me. The sea, blue as the Mediterranean, thrust its shining arms deep among the hills, which, divided by lagoons, resembled an archipelago of green islandfi. The white rocks along the shore hurled back a whiter wall of snowy breakers; and westward, beyond the peaked headland of Cape Ray, rose the blue mountain- wall, streaked with the gray of its rocky parapet. Not a tree, aot even a large shrub was in sight ; nothing but grass, Sowers, and rocks. The bare forms of the landscape har- monized with its monotony of color ; it was sublime in its very bleakness and simplicity. It resembled nothing I have 4een on the American Continent, but rather the naked, leathery hills of the western coast of Scotland. In two hours we resumed our course, standing eastward ilong the coast, whose beautiful stretch of swelling hills ^lUrned to a deep violet in the flush of sunset. The night was cloudless, sparkling with stars, streaked with meteors, and illuminated by a twilight which wheeled slowly from west to east, under the North Star, but never faded away. In the morning we saw the uninhabited islands of Miquelon and Langley, which belong to France, and passed near enough to the fishing-station of St. Pierre to discern the lighthouse at lae entrance of the little harbor. The neighboring waters were dotted with the red or tan- colored sails of the Freiiv^h fishing smacks. The town of St. Pierre contains but about 1,500 inhabitants, but I was Informed that during the Summer season there are fre- quently 400 sail in the harbor, and from 30,000 to 40,00€ A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 251 persons in the streets. We should probably have touched there but for the fact that the French government exacts a duty of three francs a ton on all foreign shipping entering the port. St. Pierre is to be made a naval station, and the Government designs sending large numbers of re cruits for the marine to be educated in the fishing service. There is no better school in the world to make hard^ XXL A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. [AUGUST, 1855.3 n. — St. Johns, and a Walk to Topsail. I WAS lying in my berth, in one of the deck state-rooms, on Monday morning, when a sailor came up to the open window and said : " You'd better get up. Sir ; we shall be at St. Johns in an hour." I took his advice at once, hur- ried on my clothes, and got on deck in time to see us pass Cape Spear, a bare, green headland, crowned with a light- house, beyond which the coast trends westward for several miles. The land was lofty, presenting a bold front to the sea, and the entrance to St. Johns Harbor, which our Httle l^ilot pointed out to me in front of us, was a narrow gap between two precipitous hills whose bases almost touched. The morning was rainy and overcast, but not foggy, and tlie approach to the shore was so secure that we made A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAKD. 253 directly for the entrance, which we had almost reached, when a four-oared boat, carrying a pilot, put off to meet us. The town of St. Johns already began to appear through the gap or gorge, and in a few minutes we were eailing between nearly perpendicular walls of dark red sandstone, which rose to the height of 700 feet on the southern, and 520 feet on the northern side. We were hailed from a small lighthouse and battery at the entrance. The passage is not more than three or four hundred yards wide. Signal Hill, on the north side, is crowned with an old battery and barracks, now converted into a military hospi- tal. There is also a water battery of five guns at its foot, opposite Chain Rock, so called from the fact that in former ti?mes a heavy iron chain was stretched from this rock across the channel, to prevent the passage of ships. Bo- yond this point we entered the harbor, which curved around South-side Hill, extending inland for nearly a mile. It has plenty of water everywhere, with excellent holding ground, and is completely sheltered by the high hills of the coast. The town is built on the western side, facing the entrance. Its old-fashioned houses of brick and weather- beaten wood line the shore for the distance of a mile, climbing the steep side of a hill which is crowned by the Roman Catholic Cathedral, the Colonial Buildings, the Government House and two small fortifications. Beyond it, other hills, partly cultivated, and dotted with sinaD white country-houses, rise inland. A crowd of schooners and small craft lay at the wharves, and fishing boats wera moving hither and thither over the harbor. All around the 254 AT HOMB AND ABROAD. ghoies, wherever space could be found, were the flakes oi the fishermen — flight wooden platforms, supported by poles, and covered with salted codfish in all stages of drying These picturesque flakes, not unlike the grape arbors of Italy, and a powerful fishy smell in the atmosphere, pi-o« claim at once to the stranger the principal business of St. Johns. We moved slowly up the harbor and came to anchor near its western extremity. The arrival of the James Adger produced a much more decided sensation than at Halifax. Notwithstanding the early hour there was a crowd gathered upon the wharf, and some of us who landed for a stroll before breakfast were stared at by all the men we met and followed by most of the boys. The principal business street in the town is near the water, running along the western side of the harbor. The iiouses are mostly two-story dwellings of brick or stone, with heavy slate roofs, and more remark- able for solidity than beauty. This part of the town has all been rebuilt since the great conflagration in June, 1846, from the effects of which St. Johns has but recently reco- rered. At that time a space of 150 acres was burned over, -nd 2,300 buildings consumed. Twelve thousand people fere made homeless, and property to the amount of £1,000,000 destroyed. Those districts which escaped still •retain the dingy old wooden houses of which the town was originally built. The population of St. Johns at present ifl estimated at 20,000. In the course of the morning I visited aU of the principal sights of the place, under the guidance of Mr. Winton, edi- tor of The Public Ledger. The most prominent building A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 255 Is tae Catholic Cathedral, which had just been completed* It occupies a commanding position on the crest ©f the hill^ and being built of gray stone, with tall square towers, beara some resemblance to the Cathedral of Montreal, which it equals in dimensions. The interior, however, does not bear out its exterior promise. The nave is low, and therefore does not produce the effect which might be expected from its length and breadth; the architectural ornaments are tawdry and inharmonious. The palace of Bishop Mullock stands beside the Cathedral, with a little garden in front. On this part of the hill is an earthwork called Fort Frede- rick, which contained but a small garrison. In fact, the entire number of troops stationed at St. Johns, including those in Fort William, Chain Rock Battery, and upon Sig nal Hill, amounts only to about two hundred men, who belong to what is called the Royal Newfoundland Company, and are not transferred to other stations. I never saw a more healthy and vigorous body of men. There are in England no ruddier faces, no clearer eyes, no more sappy and well-conditioned bodies. I looked with great admira- tion at one of the sentries on duty at Fort William. Tall, straight as a lance, with firmly chiselled, half-Grecian fea- tures, a thick, soft mustache and a classical chin, he had a complexion like that of a ripe peach, a mellow, ruddily golden flush, which showed the noblest painting of air and Bunshine, and was worthy of the Titianic pencil of Page. Capt. Bowlin courteously conducted us over Fort Frede- rick, where the most interesting thing I saw was the library and reading-room of the soldiers — a neat little apart* tnent, containing 1,650 well-selected volumes, and a nmnbet 256 AT HOME AND ABROAD. of newspapers and periodicals. I am not aware that so profitable an institution as this has ever been attached to any of our own garrisons. The fortifications are all small, and seem to me quite insufficient for the defence of so important a place. The Government House, on the con- trary, is built on a scale of needless magnificence, having cost i)f,0,000, on an estimate of £9,000. It is a long, heavy- looking mansion, of dark gray stone, on the ridge of the hill, and surrounded by an inclosure planted with trees, which appear to grow very slowly on the thin soil. In the outskirts of the town, towards the north and west, there are several neat private residences with gardens attached, where the more hardy varieties of fruit ripen, and even apples, with proper protection, are made to bear; but strawberries (which were just disappearing) gooseberries, currants, and cherries, are the only certain fruits. The Colonial Building, with its Grecian portico, stands near the Government House. The Council Chambers were dosed, but I saw the Library, and the nucleus of a museum of the natural history of Newfoundland, which promises to be valuable. There were seals of all sizes and ages, wolves, foxes, partridges, grouse, hawks, owls, the heads and horns of the cariboo or reindeer, beaver, otter, hares, and various other animals, some of which seem to be pecu- liar to the island. The cariboo is said to be almost identi cal with the Lapp reindeer, whence some have conjectured that it was first introduced by the Norsemen, who, it is well known, first discovered Newfoundland, which they named Helluland^ or " The Land of broad, flat stones.*^ In the hall of the building there is a vacant niche, whl^i A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 25? ought to be filled with a statue of the gallant old Admiral, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, who in the year 1583 founded St. Johns. The Episcopal Cathedral stands on the slope of the hill, Delow its Catholic rival. Only the chancel has been erected , which is of dark stone, of a plain but pleasing form of th Oothic style. From its imposing dimensions, the buildingj when completed, will surpass the Catholic Cathedral in size,, as the latter surpa^isee it in position. The animosity be- tween the two sects is very bitter, and since an independent Colonial Government has been given to Newfoundland, if. enters into politics, and is the source of endless bickerings. There are several other Protestant churches, the principal of which is the Congregational Church, but none of them add much to the beauty of the place. In fact, Nature has done nearly everything for St. Johns. Spread along the slope of a long hill, almost every house commards a view of the beautiful harbor, the grand gateway between Signal and South-side Hills, and an arc of blue ocean beyond ; while, looking inland, picturesque hills, black fir-woods, yellow hay-fields, cottages, and the white ribands of admirable roads, branching off in various directions, form landscapes of very difierent character, but equally as attractive. The air is always pure and exhilarating, and though there i« much rain during the Winter and Spring months, fogs ar quite rare. The thick mist-curtains which enshroud th ^eat fishing-banks roll up, day after day, to within a mile or two of the shore, and there tower, like immense walls, leaving all within them in clear sunshine. The harbor oi St. Johns is much less su])ject to fog than that of Halifax 258 AT HOME AND ABROAD. In calling Newfoundland the Land of Fogs, we have made the mistake of applying to the island the climate and at- mosphere of the Grand Bank, from which it is separated by a belt of deep water from forty to sixty miles in breadth. The morning of our arrival was rainy, but about nooD the wind came out of the south-west, rolling the masses of cloud before it, and leaving spaces of blue sky in theu place. As the time of our stay was uncertain, and I was anxious to see something of the country, I acceded to a proposal of Mr. Vf inton, that we should walk out in the afternoon to a farm belonging to his mother, near Topsail, on Conception Bay, eleven miles distant, and there spend the night. Mr. O'Brien and Mr. Middlebrook jomed me, and we started at once. Following the main street in a south-western direction, past the head of the harbor, we soon emerged into a fine macadamized road, which left the valley and gradually ascended over the undulating slopes of the hills. For some distance it was lined with suburban cottages, surrounded with potato-patches, gooseberry- bushes, or clumps of fir and spruce trees, which somethnes attain a height of thirty feet. The largest trunk I saw was about eighteen inches in diameter. To these followed fields of thick grass, sometimes brown and shorn, some- times striped with fragrant swathes or dotted with rounded haycocks. There were also some fields of oats and barley, which were still quite green, one only coming into head. We met a few rough country carts, driven by hardy, sun- burned men or boys, going to St. J ohns, but neither horse- men nor pleasure-carriages, nor pedestrians, except unmi» takable laborers. It was evidently a land of work. A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP 10 NEWFOUNDLAND. 259 After travelling four or five miles at a pace which would nave been fatiguing but for the constant exhilaration of the south-west breeze that blew in our faces, we reached a wild, rolling upland, where the signs of cultivation became more scarce, and from the character of the wild land I could per- ceive how much labor and expense are requisite to fit it for cultivation. The timber is short, but exceedingly hard and tough, and after the trees are cut and the stumps grubbed up, the soil is covered with loose stones, which must be picked off over and over again before there is a sufficient foothold for grain or potatoes. In spite of all this, and the fact that the soil is but a thin layer upon a basis of solid rock, which continually crops out through it, the yield of hay is re- markably good, and potatoes, when they escape the rot, produce very well. The price of cleared land varies from £5 to £15 per acre, according to quality and location. Farming, in this part of the island, can scarcely be remu- nerative, except at a crisis like the present, when aU the necessaries of life are very dear. The scenery through which our road lay reminded me continually of the western coast of Scotland. It certainly bore no resemblance to any part of the American continent which I have visited. High, bald ranges of hills, following the line of the coast, stretched away southwards, where they blended with the rolling inland, covered with dark woods of spruce, fir, and larch. From every ridge we over- looked stern tracts of wilderness, which embosomed lakes of cold, fresh water, bluer than sapphire. Occasionally, streams whose tint of golden brown betrayed the roots and trunks through which they had filtered, brawled over theii 260 AT HOME JlND ABilOAD. rocKy beds. A few cattle and sheep grazing along the edge 01 the woods gave a pastoral ah* to this region, which would otherwise have been desolate in its ruggedness and loneliness. We stopped a few minutes at a wayside tavern, where^ in a room with sanded floor and colored prints on the -^rallsj we were served with spruce beer, bitter with the resinous extract of the tree. We had walked eight miles, and were now upon the dividing ridge between the Atlantic and Conception Bay, a deep sheet of water which reaches to within three miles of Placentia Bay, on the southern side of the island, and almost insulates the promontory on which St. Johns is built. Two hills opened like a gateway, and between them spread the blue waters of the bay, with its dim further shore, and the long, undulating hills of Bell Isle basking in the soft light of the afternoon sun. The road, which was as hard and smooth as an English highway, led downwards to the shore, revealing with every step a wider stretch of bay, over which towered, on the right, the pale red and gray rocks of Topsail Head, rising to a height of seven or eight hundred feet. In a little glen, the bottom of which, by careful clearing and draining, had been turned into a smooth field of thick, mossy turf, we found the neat white cottage which was to be our resting-place for the night. A rapid stream foamed beside it, and hills of fir inclosed it on all sides, except the north, which was open to the bay. The mistress of the house was absent, but we found a man ar d maid-servant, who conducted the affairs of the household in her stead. As there were still two or three hours of daylight, we A TELEGRAPHIC TKIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 201 walked on to the village of Topsail, and followed the road along the shore to a j^Iace called Chamberlain's Pomt. The views across the bay, and south-westward towards its head, m ere very beautiful. Bell Isle lay stretched out before us in its whole length, with the picturesque little fishing village of Lance Cove opposite to u&. Little Bell Isle and Kelly's Isle were further south, and beyond them the shore was no longer bold and bluff, but sank into gentle hills. The road was lined v, ith the wooden huts of the fishermen, with here and there the more ambitious summer cottage of a St. John's merchant, buried in a sheltering grove of fir- trees. The scenery became less bleak and rugged as we advanced, and I regretted that I had not time to follow the road to Holyrood, eighteen miles further, at the head of the bay. We returned to the cottage under a sunset sky as clear and cold as it is possible for a sky to appear. The fire of dried boughs in the capacious chimney-place was very comfortable in the evening, and in spite of a brilliant white auroral arch and shooting lances of golden flame in the northern sky, we preferred remaining in-doors, lounging on the benches in the chimney corner, smoking, and hstening to tales of cod-fishing, and wolf or bear hunting, told by the shrewd, sturdy, serving-man, William of Dorsetshire Wilham was farmer, hunter, and sailor, all in one, and hia originally frank and honest nature had ripened vigorously ja the exercise of the three manliest occupations in the world. His blunt, expressive language and rough expe- riences of the Xewfoundland shores and forests had a real charm for me, and the early bedtime of the coimtry came 262 AT HOME AND ABBOAD. on apace. I enjoyed a sound sleep after the day's tramp and awoke with the first blush of a morning as frostily cool as our October. We had hired a horse and hght wagon from Mr. Daly, who kept a store and tavern for the fishermen at Topsail; Mr. Winton added his own wagon and gray pony, and two hours' drive over the hills, in the cloudless sunshine and elastic air, brought us back to St. Johns. We found our fellow passengers preparing for an excur- sion to Portugal Cove, on Conception Bay. The hospita- lity of St. Johns was already exerting itsdf to find means for our diversion, and every available private carriage in the town (where there is not a single hack to be hired) had been secured. Before one o'clock all our passengers and twenty or thirty ladies and gentlemen of the place were on the road. We passed the Cathedral and Government House, catching, from the other side of the hill, a glimpse of Quidi Yidi Lake, a picturesque sheet of water which lies behind Signal Hill, and slowly climbed to the rolling, wooded uplands of the interior. To the north extended a shallow basin, containing 1,700 acres of dwarf spruce for- est, beyond which arose the blue headlands of the coast, with sUps of the ocean horizon between. All this tract might be cleared and cultivated, but much of it would require drainage, and the expense of preparing it for grain would hardly repay the scanty and uncertain yield. All this region is remarkably well watered ; in fact, the same remark applies to the whole island, and it is estimated that one-fourth of its surface consists of lakes and ponds. We passed several beautiful lakes, swarming with trout, and gleaming cold and blue in the sunshine. Twenty-mile A TELEGRAPHIC TEIP TO NEWFOUOTLAND. 263 Pond, a picturesque sheet of water, is six or seven miles in length, and contains several islands. There vrere a few cot- tages and hay-fields along the road, and I saw some stacks of peat, which must have been cut more from custom and radition than necessity, for wood is abundant. After skirting the shores of Twenty-mile Pond, the road crossed another ridge, and descended rapidly towards Con- ception Bay, which, as on the Topsail Road, opened finely between two lofty headlimds, with the northern half of BeU Isle before us, and the line of the opposite shore stretching away dimly to its extremity. The bight below us, mclosed by the headlands, was Portugal Cove; and the huts of the fishermen, sprinkled over the rocks, formed a crescent a mile in length, in the middle of which a stream from the lake above fell in sparkling cascades into the bay. Flakes covered with odoriferous codfish arose like terraces fi'om the shore, where the boats of the fishermen were moored, while others, with their lines out, dotted the sur- face of the water. There was a wild and picturesque beauty in the place, which made us forget its fishy atmosphere. Some of the party strolled aronnd the cove ; others climbed rocks for a wider lookout ; others read the epitaphs in an ancient graveyard ; but after an hour or two all were will- ing to return to the village tavern, where our hosts had provided an admirable lunch. We returned to St. Johns early in the afternoon on account of the dinner to be given on board the steamer in the evening. XXII. A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. [AUaUST, 1865.] in. — St. Johns — ^Excursions AND FbSii V rrJLi£S« I AROSE on the following morning at five o'clock, and accompanied Mr. Field on a trip to Logic Bay, a cove in the coast about six miles north of St. Johns. We had a light open wagon, an Irish driver, and an old stager of a horse, which took us over the ground in a few minutes lesa than an hour. The road passed through a portion of the stunted fir-woods which we had skirted on the way to Por- tugal Cove, and then turned eastward towards the coast, approaching a lofty headland of red sandstone rock, which is a prominent feature in the view northward from St. Johns. The rolling upland gradually sloped into a narrow valley, with a stream at the bottom. Following this, we descended to a cluster of fishing huts at the head of a rocky A TKLEGSAPHIC TKIP TO NEWFOUNDIA]S'D. 265 cove, less than a quarter of a mile in breadth, between the two headlands. The shore was everywhere perpendicular, or Dearly so, and the huts were perched upon the brink of cliffs seventy or eighty feet high, at the bottom of which the sea rolled in and broke in volumes of spray. A steep foot- path descended between the flakes of the fishermen to a gap or split in the rocks, across w^liich was built the boat-house, a light timber framework high above the water, and provided with falls for hauling up the boats in rough weather. An old fisherman, who appeared to be the only male at home, the other inhabitants having gone off before daylight to their fishing labors, accompanied us to the boat-house, and pointed out the spot where a part of it had been car- ried away by the fall of an overhanging mass of rock. We walked along an elastic platform, made by poles fastened together, to the end, whence there was a magnificent view of the cove, with its walls of dark-red sandstone, fringed with moving lines of foam, and its grand buttress of Red Head, as the promontory is called, rising almost perpendi- cularly to the height of 780 feet. A few fishing craft dot- ted the gray surface of the sea, over which the mist hung If w in the distance. The fishermen's wives were employed in spreading out upon the flakes the fish which had been stacked together during the night, with the skins uppermost to protect them from moisture. They informed us that the season was anusually good, but as the price of fish was low they would gain but little by their abundance. Last ysar, they said, fish had sold at fifteen and sixteen shillings the quintal (120 'bs.) but this year the price had gone down to twelve and 266 AT HOME AND ABROAD. thirteen shillings. The value, let me here explain, is not so much regulated by the demand in foreign markets as by the will of the merchants of St. Johns, who not only fix the price of the fish they buy but of the goods they sell to the fashermen. They thus gain in both ways, and fatten rapidly on the toils and hardships of the most honest and simple- hearted race in the world. It is their policy to keep the fishermen always in debt to them, and the produce of the fishing season is often mortgaged to them in advance. It is an actual fact that these poor fishermen are obliged to pay for their flour, groceries, and provisions from 50 to 100 per cent more than the rich and independent residents of St. Johns. It is no wonder therefore that the merchants amass large fortunes in the course of eight or ten years, while their virtual serfs remain as poor and as ignorant as their fathers before them. These things were mentioned to me by more than one of the intelligent citizens of St. Johns, and confirmed by all of the fishermen with whom I <5onversed on the subject. Several of the latter said to me, *'Ah, Sir, if your people had the management of things here it would be better for us." This monopolizing spirit of gain is the curse, not only of St. Johns, but of all New- foundland. It is the spirit which resists all progress, all improvements for the general good which seem to threaten the overthrow of its unjust advantages — which has made Newfoundland at the present day, three hundred and fifty years after its discovery by Sebastian Cabot, an almost unknown wilderness, and which would fain preserve it as a wilderness, in order that no other branch of industry may bo developed but that upon which it preys. A TELEQEAPHIC TBIP TO NEWFOTJNDLAITD. 267 The fishermen in some cases deliver their fish to the merchants, cured; in others, the latter purchase the yieli as it comes from the boats, and have the drying done up m their own flakes. The livers are usually sold separately to those merchants who carry on the manufacture of oil. The dried cod, after havmg been assorted, are stored in ware- houses, reatly to be shipped to foreign markets. The greatest demand is from Spain, Cuba, and the "West Indies generally. The whole town is pervaded by the peculiar odor of the fish, which even clings to the gar- ments of tliose who deal in them. This odor, very unpleasant at first, becomes agreeable by familiarity, and finally the nostrils cease to take cognizance of it. St. Johns is decidedly the most ancient and fish-like town in North America. I saw a man in the street one day whose appearance and expression were precisely that of a dried codfish. We returned homewards from Logie Bay by way of Virginia Water, the residence of Mr. Emerson, Solicitor- General. This is one of the most charmingly secluded hermitages which it is possible to imagine. We first turned into a stony lane, leading through the midst of a young forest of fir and spruce trees. As the lane de- scended the trees became taller and more dense, until we arrived at a cottage-lodge, shaded by a willow, on the edge of a beautiful lake, entirely encompassed by the dark woods. Passing this lodge, we found ourselves on a grassy peninsula, twenty yards in width, between what appeared to be two lakes, but were in reality the two ends of one, which curves itself into a nearly perfect circle, three milei 268 AT HOME AND ABROAD. in extent. A gate at the end of this isthmus ushjred ui into the woods again, between trees thirty or forty fee^ high, and so dense as to be almost impenetrable. Out of the dark avenue we came at last upon an open lawn of about two acres, sloping from Mr. Emerson's cottage to the lake. The cottage had a veranda m front, completely overrun with hop-vines and the fragrant woodbine, and the edges of the wall of fir trees behind it were brilliant with the blossoms of a variety of hardy garden-flowers. The lawn sloped to the south, looking across the lake to the woods beyond, whose dark-green tops hemmed in the sky. The keen north-west wind which rippled the water was unfelt around the cottage, so completely was it shel- tered by its fir palisades. Mr. Emerson and his daughters received us cordially, and offered us some delicious coffee, which our long ride in the cool morning air made very acceptable. I regretted that time would not allow us to explore the wild wood- paths over the island on which his house is built, and that the carriage-road along the borders of the lake was so much out of repair that we could not pass over it. The lake swarms with trout, and as Mr. Emerson is fortunate enough to possess the whole of it, he has at hand an unlimited supply of this prince of fish. The cottage was originally built by a former Governor of the island. Were it in the vicinity of New York or London, the property would be beyond all price; but when I looked up at the cold sky overhead, and remembered the brief, barren Summer of Newfoundland, I felt that I should prefer a rimple tent beneath the Oriental palms. A TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 269 In the afternoon I walked out to Signal Hill, the peak of which I have already spoken, forming the northern side of the gateway to the harbor. It is a mass of old red sandstone, rising 520 feet above the sea. The summit is devoted entirely to military purposes. There was formerly » battery, which, being of little use, has been abandoned ; also a hospital, which has been converted into barracks for the married soldiers, and a station whence approachhig vessels are signalled to the town. A steep and rugged foot-path over the rocks led us to the block-house, out of which rises the signal-staff, on the apex of the headland. The door was open, the house untenanted, and I made my way to the look-out gallery, and used the excellent telescope, with- out hindrance from any one. The panorama from this point is superb, embracing the town and harbor of St. Johns, the country inland, clouded with forests and span- gled with blue lakes, as far as the western headlands which rise above Conception Bay. At my feet yawned the throat of the wonderful harbor ; Southside Hill, gray and mossy, rose beyond it, with the long, narrow inlet of Freshwater Bay to the left, and the bold green hills of the coast stretching away to Cape Spear. Between me and the latter point the boats of the St. Johns fishermen swarmed over the water, and on a distant horizon aroso the wall of white fog which marks the boundaries of tho Grand Bank. I had a strong lesire to visit the fishing village of Quidi Vidi, at the foot of the lake of the same name, and on descending Signal Hill took a path which led to the right, along the top of a range of grassy fields. The people of 270 A.T HOMS AlfD ABJBOAD. St, J olms account for the name of the lake by a tradition of an old Portuguese sailor, its discoverer, who at first beholding it, cried out in his native language, " What do I see ? " This lake is a favorite resort in summer, and the place where the annual regattas are held. It is about a mile long, lying in a deep valley, the sides of which are covered with hay-fields. A stream from its further end falls in a succession of little cascades down a rocky ledge into the land-locked cove, around which the village of Quidi Vidi is built. We pursued our path over a sloping 3own covered with dwarf whortle-berries and wild roses of delicious perfume. The Kalmia latifolia grew in thick clumps, and its flowering period was not entirely past. After a walk of a mile we reached the village, which contains forty or fifty houses, built at the head and along the sides of an oval sheet of water, completely inclosed by the red rocks, and so silent and glassy that no one would ever suppose it communicated with the turbulent sea without. Quidi Vidi is entii-ely a fishing village, and a more picturesque one an artist could not desire. Except the smells of the codfish drying on the lofty flakes, which at once disenchant a romantic visitor, it seems almost Area* dian in its air of neatness and of quiet. The flakes, not- withstanding the uses to which they are dedicated, are really picturesque objects, their light platforms shooting above the grassy knolls around the village, and even above the houses and lanes, so that portions of the place are veritably roofed with cod-fish. The boat-houses, con- structed of light poles with the bark on, extend ovei JL TELEGRAPHIC TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 271 the water, whose green depths mirror the white cottages, the flakes, and the red rocks towering above them. Three or four fishermen who had just returned from their day's work, saluted us in a friendly manner, and at our request manned a boat and pulled us to the mouth of the cove where a gut between the rocks, thirty or forty feet in breadth and two hundred feet in length, conducts to the sea. This gut is so shallow, that at some seasons the fish- ermen are confined within their cove for a week at a time, unable to get their boats outside. A heavy sea also imprisons them, and although there was a very light swell at the time of our visit, our boatmen preferred waiting for the pauses of smooth water. The outside cove, between the headlands of Sugar Loaf and Cuck- old's Head, is small but exceedingly beautiful, the nearly vertical strata of red sandstone shooting like walls to the height of several hundred feet above the water. A her- ring net was set inside of the cove, and two or three youths in a boat with a gun, were endeavoring to shoot a salt-water pigeon. Our fishermen were fine, athletic, honest fellows, and I should desire no better recreation than to live a month among them, sharing their labors so far as I might be able, and drawing strength from ffered me similar hospitality. Both of these men offered us every kindness in their power — ^bringing us their heavy, well-oiled boots and thick woollen socks in exchange for our own, which were thoroughly soaked by our tramp over the hills. Their rough, hearty bluntness assured me that I ▲ TELEGBAPHIC TRIP TO NUTWrOUNDLAND. 293 should be welcome to all they could offer, and when there is warmth withm a hut I care not how rude its exterior may be. All our other passengers had gone off on board the steamer, but I greatly preferred remaining ashore. The Victoria came in about ten o'clock, and the fog con afterwards became so dense that we were satisfied either of the vessels would venture out of poit. I called t Butt's house, where, in a neat kitchen with an ample fireplace, we found Mrs. Butt nursing a rosy child of fifteen months old, Avhile a son of twelve or thirteen years sat at the table reading the Bible. The sounds of children's voices — and there were many of them — came from a sleep ing-room adjoining. Everything about the house was neat and orderly, and there was an appearance of comfort w^hich I had not looked for. Genge lived in a smaller cottage, the inside of which was blackened by the smoke of a wade chim- ney, and dimly hghted by a swinging oil-lamp. There were broad benches on either side which evidently did duty aa beds. The floor was of earth, and the only furniture was a table, two old chairs, some shelves, and a large, dingy cupboard in the corner. Mrs. Genge shook hands with me and bade me welcome, and on my saying that I should be content with a corner to spread my shawl in, her husband turned to me with " Don't talk about comers ; we'll try to make you comfortable." I was pleased to see that my presence did not embarrass the good family in the least, am that, while they showed me every kindness, I occasioned n apparent change in the household. I was ushered into a little side-room, whi45h to my surprise contained a curtained bed, white and perfectly clean, 9 294 AT HOME AIJD ABROAD. table upon which lay a number of books, a looking-glasg, i wash-bowl and a pitcher of stone-ware, with a fine liner towel, combs, brushes, soap, and all ordinary appliances of the toilet. Everything in the room was scrupulously neat^ and arranged with a knowledge and propriety which 1 should never have expected to find in such a place. Among he books were Mrs. Beecher Stowe's " Sunny Memories," Chambers's " Information for the People," and some novels, besides a large family Bible. I was so tired that I imme- iiately tumbled into bed and slept so soundly that when I awoke at five in the morning I had some difficulty in ascertaining where I was. Genge, who was already stirring, accompanied me to Butt's, where I found Dr. and Mrs. Sayre, whose experience was similar to mine. They had been received with the same kindness, and treated to the same unexpected comforts. Our hosts refused to accept the slightest compensation, and we were only able to repay them indirectly, by engaging them to row us out to the steamer. The people of Port-aux-Basques are unusual specimens of ripe and healthy physical vigor, and they possess those simple virtues which naturally belong to such an organiza- tion. Though their education is very deficient, they are rjhrewd and quick-witted ; open and trustful unless deceived, when they become excessively suspicious ; generous, honest, hospitable, and enduring ; remarkably free from immorality and crime notwithstandhig — perhaps on account of — their distance from efficient legal authorities ; and I do not know any other community which surpasses them in sterling manly qualities. They are not only very healthy but very A TEUEGIiAPHlC TKIT TO NET\ FOUNBLAjSTD. 295 prolific ; and the place, like many others on the coast, has grown up almost entirely from the natural increase of the first families who settled there. This accounts for the fact that the population of the fishing villages on the southern and western sides of the island are nearly all related to each other. I heard it stated that in some of the remote settlements which began with a single famUy, the brothers and sisters formed incestuous marriages ; but I was glad to hear this story positively denied afterwards. The inter- course between the fishing-ports is carried on almost entirely by sea, on account of the rugged character of the land- travel. There is a communication in winter between Port- aux-Basques and St. George's bay, over the Cape Ray highlands ; but it is very rarely travelled by any except the Indians — a branch of the Micmac tribe, who have emi- grated hither from Cape Breton. The distance across is about sixty miles, which they travel occasionally in two days. The Victoria, which had returned in the night, brought word that a place had been selected just inside of Cape Ray as the starting-point of the submarine cable, the materials for a house landed, and the frame already erected. A deep cove in the harbor of Port-aux-Basques was at first chosen, on account of its sheltered situation, and the cu'cumstance of the cable falling at once into deep water ; but as Cape Ray was three or four miles nearer Cape Breton, Mr. Field and Mr. Canning went thitlier in a boat on Monday, and fixed upon a spot at the head of Cape Ray harbor, where there was a beach of soft sand 8ome» what guarded fi*om the ice which lodges here in great 296 AT HOME AND ABBOAB. quantities during the winter and spring, by groups oi rocks on Loth sides. The next day the frame and complete materials for a house were taken up by the Victoria, toge- ther wdth a number of passengers who offered themselves as amateur carpenters. On reaching the bay the timbers were lashed together as a raft and towed near the shore, where, on account of the violence of the surf, it parted, leaving Captain Sluyter and two or three others, who were on it, to float to the beach on the pieces. The boat's load of passengers succeeded in landing, and immediately went to work in company with the fishermen of the place and their dogs to rescue the timbers. Boards, beams, rafters and bundles of shingles were caught and dragged out of the surf; and in the course of tw^o or three hours all the materials of the raft were got ashore. In this work the dogs rendered capital siervice — plunging boldly into the sea and seizing upon every stick which they could manage* Sometimes two of them would take a plank between them^ and, watching the proper moment with a truly human sagacity, bring it to the beach on the top of a breaker and there deliver it into the hands of their masters. It was really wonderful to behold the strength, courage, and industry of these poor beasts, who, when but few frag- ments were left, fought savagely for the possession of them^ and even tried to drown each other. By night, with the assistance of the people, the frame of the house was raised, and the Victoria returned to Port- aux-Basques. She started again the next day at noon, witb Mr. Field and another company of amateur carpenters on board, leaving the James Adger lo follow with the bark 'ui A TKLEGBAPHIC TEIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 29? tow as soon as the weather would allow. While waiting on board the Victoria I witnessed the performance of some of the Cape Ray dogs, two of which were on board. If a stick was thrown into the water, they would spring over the rail, seize it, swim around the vessel or chase other floating objects, until some one let down the bight of a rope over the side, when the dog would immediately make for it, place both fore-paws over it, thrust his head forward and hold on until he was drawn upon deck. One of these dogs had followed the Victoria's boat the day previous and was taken on board. This little circumstance produced a marked change in the temper of the inhabitants of Cape Ray. They became shy, suspicious, and reserved; and nothing but the explicit declaration of Mr. Field — -whi^^h was afterwards carried into eflFect — that the dog should be returned or his full value paid the owner, restored their confidence. We ran up the coast, passed Grand Bay, the embouchure of the stream on which we had encamped, and in an hour and a half came to in front of the six or eight fishermen's huts which constitute the settlement of Cape Ray. I found that the lofty isolated peak which I had taken to be the Cape itself was four or five miles inland, separated from the point by a low, undulating promontory covered with dense, stunted woods. Two other peaks appeared, retreating along the western coast, and behmd them all towered the dai^k Cape Highlands, twelve hundred feet in height. We were carried ashore in the Victoria's boat, and landed at the head of a httle cove where the boats of the fishermen were pulled up in front of their huts, after which the 298 AT HOME AND ABROAD. Steamer returned to Port-aux-Basques to assist in bringing up the bark. Following a r-^ugh, boggy path along the shore, some- times on the brink of black cliffs overhanging the breakers, a walk of a mile conducted us to the new telegraph-building on a grassy knoll near the head of the bay. We found all the male population of the place employed in completing it, under the direction of old Tapp, the patriarch of the fish- ermen, and a Cape Ray carpenter. Some were nailing on clapboards, others shingling the roof, and others digging a trench from the front of the house to the beach, while planks, beams, bundles of shingles, boxes, and carpenters- tools were scattered around on all sides. Our first thought was for dinner, as we had taken the precaution to carry a box of provisions with us. Seated on the shingles, with the fresh sea-breeze blowing over us, and the keen edge of our sea-appetites not in the least blunted, the cold beef-steak, red herring, pilot-bread, and other delicacies rapidly dis- appeared. But we were soon summoned to work ; and the spectacle we presented would have afforded great amuse- ment to some of our New York friends. Mr. Field, spade in hand, led the ditching party ; Dr. Spring, with his coat off and a handkerchief tied around his head, was hard at work sawing out spaces for windows ; Dr. Sayre, myself, and two or three others, nailed on layer after layer of shin- gles ; and of the rest, some took to flooring, others to clap- boarding, and others to making frames for batteries. We had but a single accident — a scaffold fell, and one of the fishermen, in falling within it, barked his shins. All worked with a wUl, and by night the roof was completed, the sidw A TELEGRAPHIC TBIP TO NEWFOUNDLAlffD. 29& ABROAD. and his company took possession of the refreshment room^ keeping the rest of us, who were very hungry, out of it until they had finished. Nothing could have been mora politely done. The guards begged our pardon, asked us ft special favor not to go in, and admitted us even before Radetzky had retired. I looked at the old veteran with nuch interest. He was then upwards of ninety, yet stiU performed his duties as Military Governor of Austrian Italy He had at length been obliged to give up his horse, and reviewed his troops in an open carriage. He was a short, thick-giet man, w^alked rather slowly, but firmly, and had a face full of vitality. His short white hair, thick white mustache, heavy brows, prominent cheek-bones and square jaws, gave him the precise expression of an old bull-terrier. Such courage, resolution, and unyielding tenacity of purpose I never saw in an old man's face before. If he got his teeth get once you might be sure he would hold on. Such a man was Carvajal, Pizarro's magnificent old warrior. In Venice we had four cloudless days, and four nights ir. a gondola, under the full moon. Such days and nights are dreams, and my return to Padua was the awaking upon a dull reality. The vineyards on the road to Bologna were purple with abundant grapes, for there was a vintage in Italy, for the first time in five years. The disease of the vine appears to be gradually disappearing, like that of the potato, and these two invaluable plants are now healthy, with few exceptions, throughout Europe. The failure of the vintage for so many years had greatly impoverished the Italian people. Wine had risen to full five times its former price, and was withal so bad that one could scarcely drink HOLIDAYS IN SmXZKBLAXD ANP ITALY. 313 it. Montefiascone and Montepulciano wholly belied their old renown, and those who tasted the golden Orvieto could not understand why it should have been so praised. We had a week in Florence. I saw much of my old friend Powers, who was dividing his time between Art and Invention. His statue, La Penserosa^ which is now in the possession of Mr. James Lenox, was nearly finished. It is thoroughly Miltonic, and I don't know what more I could say. The face is uplifted, abstracted, " With looks commercing with the skiea, The rapt soul sitting in her eyes;" the figure large and majestic, with a sweeping train, partly held in one hand, as she moves slowly forward. In many respects it is Powers's best work, though it may not be so popular as his " California." We hastened on to Rome, although it was rather early in the season. My compainons, however, had Uttle fear of either fever or robbers, and so, after ten years of absence, I acted as their cicerone through churches, palaces, and ruins. I saw little change in Rome since 1846, except along the Appian Way, where many new exhumations have been made, and a number of glaring tablets, headed with " Pius IX. Pont. Max.," inserted in the venerable fronts of Roman baths and amphitheatres. There was also a tablet n St. Peter's, on the left of the Apostle's Chair, comraemo- ating the sublime absurdity of the Immaculate Concep- tion. Oh, Pio Nono ! you are as vain as you are weak, ind we who once respected you can now only pity you. On the evening of our departure, the Pope drove past oni 314 AT HOMI?; AND ABROAD. hotel in his carriage. We leaned out of the dining-room iidndows, looked in, and received his benediction. He ha? a kind, amiable, grandmotherly old face, and his blessing could do no harm. Poor man I I think he means well, but he is in Antonelli's evil hands, and Rome, which had a transient sum-ise during the first years of his Pontificate, ia now sunk in as blind a night as ever. My respect for the Roman people is increased, by com- paring them with the Florentines, who are an impersona- tion of all that is mean and corrupt. There is honor and virtue to be found among the Tuscan peasants, I doubt not, but for the bourgeoisie of Florence one can have no feelLog but that of utter loathing and contempt. No lady can walk alone in Florence without being grossly insulted, and even in a carriage, with a gentleman's protection, she must run the gauntlet of a thousand insolent starers. The faces of the youths express a precocious depravity, and the blear eyed old men show in every wrinkle the records of a debauched and degraded life. There is no help for such a people ; they are slaves, and deserve to be so. But of all cheering signs of progress in Europe, there is none so truly encouraging as the present condition of Sar- dinia. I passed through the country first in August, 1845, and now, in October, 1856, 1 returned to witness what had been done in those eleven years. Then, Sardinia was scarcely in advance of Tuscany, and her material develop- ment seemed to be at a stand-still. Now, nearly 500 miles of railroad were in operation, her commerce had been doubled, her productive industry vastly increased, her agri- culture fostered aod improved, and — ^best of all — she has a HOLIDAYS IN SWITZERLAND AND ITALY. 315 liberal Constitution, an enlightened and energetic Govern, ment, and a happy and hopeful people. From ^enoa to Turin, along the old road where I then walke 1 in dust through sleepy villages, all is now activity and animation. New houses have been built, new fields ploughed, bare moun tain-sides terraced and planted with vine, new mills bestride the idle streams, and a thrifty and industrious population are at work on all sides. Sardinia has set a noble example to the other Italian States, and her success is the surest basis for the future independence of Italy. As King Victor Emmanuel was not at home, we were freely admitted into his palace at Turin, even the private apartments being thrown open to us. Turin is a stately and beautiful city, although it contains little to attract the traveller. We were obliged to wait two days before we could obtain places in the diligence for Chambery. The passage of Mont Cenis was made by night ; we had a snow storm on the summit, where we found a diligence over- turned and the passengers scattered about, but more fright- ened than hurt. Our diligence (the French) raced the whole day with one of the Sardinian line, so that we ave- raged nine or ten miles an hour, and thundered along th*j beautiful valleys of Savoy to Chambery, in much less than the usual time. The next day we returned to Geneva, via Aix and the Lake of Annecy (see Rousseau's " Confessions," and Lamartine's "Raphael"), through one of the loveliest regions in Europe. I had an interesting interview on my return from Lau- sanne to Gotha. At Bale the diligences from Neufchatel and Berne came together at the i-ailroad station, and theif 316 AT HOME AND ABROAD. respective passengers were deposited in the cars for Ileidel' berg and Frankfort. We found ourselves in the company of three strangers, one of whom immediately attracted my notice. He was a slender man, about thirty-five years old, with black eyes and beard, and a pale yellow complex- ion, He spoke German with perfect correctness, but slowly, and addressed me in very tolerable English ; yet I could not fix upon his nationality. I happened casually to speak of Venice, when he stated that he had just come thence. He then mentioned Corfu, and we compared our impressions of that island ; then of the Grecian isles, then of Lebanon, and the Syrian shores. know Syria very well," said I, "from Jerusalem to Aleppo." " So do I," said he. " I travelled from Aleppo through Asia Minor to Constantinople," I continued. "And I," he rejoined, "went from Aleppo to Nineveh, down the Tigris to Baghdad, and thence to Bombay." " I also visited Bombay," I said, "travelled inland to the Himalayas, and down the Ganges to Calcutta." "Just the route I followed," he again replied. "But," I re- marked, " there are few Germans who travel so exten- sively as you." " It is true," said he, " that few German travellers visit India, but there are several German mis- Bionaries stationed there." "I have heard of one," I answered — " Dr. Sprenger, who has written a most admi- rable life of Mohammed." " Why ! " he exclaimed, in mingled surprise and delight, " I am Dr. Sprenger ! " I regretted that I could spend but six hours m the society of so estimable a man, and so thorough a scholar, rie was returning home from an absence of thirteen HOLIDAYS IN SWITZEllLAND ANT> TlALY. 317 years in India, bringing with him a quantity of rare and valuable Arabic manuscripts. He bad passed a year at Damascus, where he had many opportunities of making acquaintances among the desert Arabs, and I was gi-atified to find that we entirely agreed in our estimate of the character of that noble race of men. He was fortunate enough to get possession of a geographical work of the fourth or fifth century, a work of exceeding value and importance, which he intended to translate and publish. On landing at Trieste, Dr. Sprenger was gravely informed by the authorities that his collection of Arabic MSS. must be submitted to the inspection of the Censor, before he could be permitted to retain possession of them. " Why ?" he remonstrated, "they are Arabic." "So much the worse," said the officer; "it is the more probable that they are insidious and revolutionary." "But," he again urged, " the Censor cannot read them." " That is unfortunate for you," was the answer: " you will have to wait until we find a man who can, for there is no knowing what dangerous! sentiments may be concealed under these hieroglyphics." And so the traveller was obliged to part with his treasures, until the sublimely stupid Austrian Government shall be convinced that there is no treason in the heroics of Antai or the word-jugglery of Hariii of Bosrah. XXVL A GERMAN HOME. GoTHA is one of the quietest towns in Germany, but it would be difficult to find a pleasanter one. It is built on the undulating table land at the foot of the Thtiringian hills, 1,000 feet above the sea, whence its climate is rather cold for Germany, but very bracing and healthy. A tourist is an unusual sight there, and therefore one finds the old heartiness and simplicity of German home-life in all its purity. As it is one of the court residences of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, there is a small but intelligent and refined circle, some of the members of which have a Euro- pean reputation in their departments of science and art, Hansen, the astronomer, and Dr. Petermann, the geographer, both of whom reside here, are also well known in America. Here came Barth in the summer of 1856 to recruit from his African travels ; and most of the explorers, of whose kbors Perthes, the renowned map-publisher, makes sucfc A GSKMAN HOME. 310 good ase, may be seen here from time to time. Gerstacker, Bodenstedt, the author of the " Thousand and One Days in the Orient," Gustav Freitag, Alexander Ziegler, and other German authors, hover about here through the summer, and in the neighboring village of Friedrichsroda the brothers Grimm sometimes make their abode. The home which German friendship has provided for me here, is in entire harmony with the character of the place. The littie garden-house (inhabited only by Braisted and myself) fronts on the avenue of lindens leading into the town, while the rear overlooks a garden of three or four acres in extent. It was built by one of the Ministers of Duke Ernest II. in 1760, when the French style infected Germany, and the steep bulging roof and quaint windows of the upper half-story faintly remind one of the chateaux of the time of Louis XIV. The same taste characterizes the garden. The house stands on a gravelled terrace, bor- dered ^vith flowers, whence a flight of stone steps, guarded by statues of laughing fauns, descends to a second and broader terrace, in the centre of which is a spacious basin and a fountain better than that in the New York Park, for it plays day and night. Beyond this, a sloping arcade of the dwarf beech, trained so as to form a roof of shade, impervious to the sun, leads down to the garden* Still beyond are flower-beds open to the Summer warmth^ a pool edged with flags and lilies, and groups of trees stud- ding the smooth sward on either side. An arch of vines at the end of the garden-walk ushers you into the grove, where a Pomona on her pedestal offers samples of fruits which jo*\ De*>d n^t expect to find ; for I 820 AT HOME AND ABROAD. have none other than forest-trees here — ^fir, oak, ash, chest- nut, and beech. You would not guess that the grove was so small. Its winding footpaths are led through the thick- est shade, and the briery undergrowth shoots up to shut out the patches of garden which shimmer through the lowest boughs. In the centre, under venerable firs, stands a hermitage of bark, beside a fountain of delicious water, which is surmounted by a triangular block of sandstone, erected by an extinct mason who once possessed the pro- perty. This mason had more money than learning : he put up the stone as a monument to his ancestors, and inscribed thereon, as he supposed : " To my Venerable Forefathers," but, in fact, through his misspelling : ''To my Venerable Trout." (Forellen instead of Yordltern^ Some one, how- ever, has since then engraved on the three sides of the stone the following words of wisdom : " Forget not Yes- terday " — "Enjoy To-day" — "Uncertain is To-morrow.'* At the end of the grove, on the frontier of my domain, which is shut in by a hedge of fir-trees, is " The Duke's Tree," planted by the hand of Ernest 11. Although nearly a hundred years old, the trunk is not more than a foot in diameter, but the tree is branching and shady, and throws Its boughs over the rustic seat and stone table, whereupon my friend and I sometimes lie on our backs and smoke the pipe of meditation. My friend's garden adjoins mine, and there is no fence between us ; so that I can walk from my aermitage directly into his stables and inspect his thirty Btall-fed cows, and his pens of high-born English swine. Beyond our joint territory, a rich banker has his garden, and his fountain (which, by the force of money, spouts tec A GEBMAN HOME. 321 feet higher than mine) is a pretty sight enough ovc^r the hedge that divides us. His garden terminates in an arti ficial mound, covered with tall pines and firs, which also has its historic interest. Here the Court of Gotha, aping the grand sentimental silliness of that of France, played at pastoral life, and lords and ladies, vnth satin ribbons on their crooks and flowers in their hair, gave themselves such names as Corydon, and Doris, and Alexis, and Chloe, and tended sheep, and ate curds, and played flutes, and danced, and sang, and looked languishingly and amorously at each other; but always returned to beer and sausages, cards and scandal every evening. They even built a pastoral village of thirteen houses, which has long since disappeared, and instituted a Court of Love on the summit of the mound, where Phillis was tried for slighting the passion of Amyntor, or Florian for his faithlessness to Melissa. It i% difficult, in our day, to imagine the possibility of such in- effable absurdities. My own room, under the steep French roof of the gar- den-house, was once the studio of a sculptor, to whose hand, I believe, I am indebted for the six thinly-clad st atues which stand in my garden. The laughing fauns are jolly and good-humored enough, as they stand listening to the plash of the fountain, but Venus Anadyomene, down iir the grove, leaves one to infer that the artist did not mlng^. n the most reputable society. So oddly are things man aged in this place that, although I live just between the palaces of the reigning Duke and the Dowager Duchesa, both within a stone's throw, I liear the noises of the farm-yard every morning, and listen all day to the measured beat of 322 AT HOME AND ABliOAD. the flails on a threshing-floor across the way. The dili gence to Coburg rattles past every afternoon, and the pos- tilion blows me a merry hmiting-song on his horn ; some- times wagons come in from the fields laden with turnips oi potatoes, but other noises I rarely hear, and from my win- dows I see little except trees and garden-walks. The Duke is at present chamois-hunting in the Tyrol, the theatre is not yet opened, and the only recent excitement has been the arrival of four hundred oysters from Ostend. They came one evening, and by noon the next day they were not. The Castle of Friedenstein, on the summit of the hill on which the town leans, is the old residence of the Dukes of Gotha, before the union of this Duchy with that of Coburg. It is a massive, imposing pile, forming three sides of a quadrangle, open to the south, and looking across twelve miles of grain and turnip fields, to the waving blue line of the Thflringian Forest. A residence no more, it now contains a curious collection of pictures by the old German masters, a library of one hundred and eighty thousand volumes, an excellent museum of natural history, and one of the best collections of Chinese and Japanese articles out of Holland. The adjoining park is a noble piece of ground, just sufficiently neglected to make it delightful. A few footpaths meander through its groves of superb oak, fir, and beech trees, and long, lazy pools of dark green water furnish swimming room for some venerable swans. There is an island in the largest pool, in which lies the body of Ernest II. who, at his own request, was buried there, in the moist earth, without shroud, coffin, or headstone. The parks and gardens are onen day and night to everybody, and 1 A GERMAN HOMB* 323 felt as much right of possession therein as the oldest uiha- bitant. The Jahrmarktj or Annual Fair, is held here in October, and draws together crowds of the peasantry from the gurrounding villages. The Fair itself is insignificant, com pared with what I have seen in the larger German cities, but I found it interesting to watch the jolly peasants who hovered around the booths, and bought glaring handkerchiefs, immense pipes, Winter caps, dream-books, and " Rinaldo Rinaldini," or " The four Sons of Haymon." They are a strong, sturd}', ruddy race — a little too purely animal, to be sure, but with a healthy stamina which is not often seen among our restless American people. The girls, in particular, are as fresh as wild roses, with teeth which can masticate tougher food than blancmange, and stomachs, I have no doubt, of equal digestive power. Their arms and ankles are too thick and strong, and their hands too red and hard for our ideas of beauty, but they are exempt from a multitude of female weaknesses, and the hmnan race is not deteriorated in their children. They are an ignorant, honest, simple-hearted race, and, although so industrious and econo- mical, are generous so far as their means allow them to be. Lately, the field-laborers on my friend's property comme- morated the close of the season by bringing him, according to custom, an Emtekranz (harvest-wreath) of ripe rye and barley-stalks, mixed with wild grasses, and adorned with fantastic strips of colored and gilded papers. This wreath was formally delivered to the landlord, who, also, according to custom, regaled the laborers with plum cakes and wine. Tlioy passed the afternoon and evening in one of the outei 324 AT HOME JlNB AB1;0AD, rooms, settling their accounts and partaking of tlie cheer^ after which a gittern was brought forth and the room cleared for a dance. We had some of the old Thiiringian Bongs, with a chorus more loud than musical, and two-step waltzes danced to the tinkUng gittern. I was content to ye a hstener and looker-on, but was soon seized by the strong hands of a tall nut-brown maiden, and whirled into the ranks. Resistance was impossible, and at the end of five minutes I was glad to beat a giddy retreat. I must not close this gossip from Gotha, without refer- ring to the map-publishing establishment of Bernhard Perthes, whose productions, for thoroughness and correct- ness, are unsurpassed in the world. I relied upon them for my guidance through Ethiopia, Asia Minor, and India, and found them far more perfect than any others. In Africa, in fiict, I boldly ventured to contradict my guides whenever their statements differed from my map, and the result always justified me. Mr. Perthes commenced last year the pub- lication of a monthly periodical entitled : " Mittheihmgen iiber wichtige neue Erforschungen auf dem Gesammtgehiete der Geographie'*'^ (Communications concerning New and Important Researches in the realm of Geography), the editor of which is Dr. A. Petermann, who, although a young man, ranks among the first living geographers. This periodical is admirably got up, and its contents are of the highest interest and importance. It has already attahied a circulation of 4,000 copies, about one hundred of which go to the United States. XXVIL LIFE m THE THURINGIAN FOREST. [OOTOBEB, 1866.] Thbbb arc some aspects of German life which whoiiy escape the notice of most travellers, and which can only he reached through an intimate familiarity with the domestic life of the country. The festivals, no less than the costume and manners of the Middle Ages, have already disappeared from many parts of Germany, but fragments of them still linger in the more secluded districts — ^in the little villages hidden in mountain valleys which no post-road traverses, and in all those nooks and corners of the land which are not yet represented in the guide-books. Here, one who speaks the language and understands the character of the people, and fraternizes with them as a traveller should, will find his life enriched with many a quaint and picturesque experience. The Thtlringian Forest, well known to Gei^ 826 AT HOME AND ABROAD. mails, but rarely visited by foreigners, is one of those re* gions, and my visits to its valleys have furnished me with a few pictures of peasant-life, which I propose to sketch for American eyes. My acquaintance with the Forest dates from four years back, when, in company with my friend, I spent eight or ten days in exploring it from end to end. On that occasion I first met the Forester. It was at twilight, high on the mountain, at a hunting-lodge in the woods, called the King's House. How we kindled a fire of fir-logs, how we sat till past midnight in the open air, telling stories and roasting potatoes in the ashes, and how we slept side by side on a bundle of straw, are things which we keep in choicest memory, and the reader need not expect me to reveal them. Suffice it to say, that night the Forester and I became friends, and when, the next morning, his gray mustache brushed my cheek at parting, I promised to return to the King's House after a few years, and spend another night with him by the camp-fire. A fortnight ago, when the mornings were bright and frosty, and the days bracing and cloudless, we set out for the Forester's home in the little village of Thai. The old man was on the look-out for us, and long before we reached the patriarchal linden which stands at the entrance of the village, we saw his sunburnt face, his thick gray mustache, and his green hunting-coat on the way to meet us. " Ah ! ^ he cried, as he welcomed us with a Teutonic embrace, *' 1 have been on burning coals for the last two hours, for fear you would not come ; the wood is all ready lor our fire, up yonder. Schmidt has gone ahead with the beer and pota LIFE IN THE THUKINGIAN FOREST. 327 toe.^ and if you have brought your cigars, there is nothing more wanting." But first we must go into his house, dis« tinguished above all others in the village by the head of an antlered buck nailed upon its front. The little room had an air of comfort and elegance : pots of flowers filled the windows, and a glossy ivy-plant was trained to run along the joists of the ceiling. A case with glass doors contained his armory, which was in thorough order ; a chintz sofa, broad enough for a Turkish divan, occupied the other end of the room, and a stove, big as the tower of Babel, stood between. His daughter had coffee in readiness, and while we were enjoying it after our walk, the house-maid, Kata- rina, was dispatched into the forest, with the remainder of our provisions and equipments upon her sturdy back. We shortly followed, up a little dell between the two hills which guard the village — the Schlossberg, with itu rocky cavern, and the Scharfenberg, with the tower of Cas- tle Scharfenstein on its summit. The meadows were still fresh as in Sunmier, the tall alders shading the brook were dark-green, but the woods of oak and beech on the hills wore the dark purple-brown hues of a German Autumn. Our path led upwards, through alternate forest and moun- tain meadow, for nearly three miles to the King's House, which we reached as the broad landscape, stretching away for forty or fifty miles to the northwards, began to grow dusky in the twilight. Schmidt had just kindled his fire under the lee of a high bank, and a great pile of split logs at his back gave cheering promise for the night. A huge jug of beer, with a turnip for a stopper, leaned against the house; a loaf of brown bread, a bag of potatoes, and a 828 AT HOME AND ABROAD, pot of butter, lay upon the rude table before the dcor, and the sight of these preparations gave an additional whet to our appetite, already sharpened by the keen mountain air, " God knows," said the Forester (than whom there is no man less profane), 'Hhis is what I have been wanting to see for the last four years. This is a night to be remem- bered !" "We piled on the logs until the flames rose high and red^ and snapped in the frosty wind. Schmidt, at the Forester's order, went into the wood for green fir-boughs, which crackled resinously, and sent up clouds of brilliant sparks. But it was long dark before our potatoes were boiled and the sausages done sputtering upon the gridiron. We ate m the open air, with the thermometer below the freezing point. The meal was royal ; but how long it lasted is a secret not to be revealed, except among the freemasonry of hunters and trappers. " Now," said my friend, as the last potato disappeared, "let us turn to nobler indulgences.'* Four faded, antique chairs were brought from the lodge, the Forester, my friend, sailor and self took our seats around the fire, and Schmidt, with the pipe hanging from his teeth, picked up a burning stick and pointed out the way that we should go. The wind had fallen, and the roar- ing logs diffused a w^arm atmosphere around the house ; beams of light streamed between the tree-trunks, and turned the yellow leaves to ruddy gold ; the stars looked down as their turns came, and twinkled with good-humor. In short, peace was upon the earth, and (so far as we were concerned) good-will towards men. The Forestei, chuckling now and then with inward satis UFE IN THE THURENGIAN FOREST. faction, went back through his record of sixty-two years and took out whatever chapters he thought would interest us — his boyhood in the stormy Napoleonic times, his youtt and manhood in the forest, stalking alone for game, fight* ing mth poachers and outlaws, or accompanying princely mateurs on their frigid hunting excursions. I asked him whether he had ever seen tfapoleon. "Yes," said he, ** twice during the Congress of Erfurt. The first time, I was going home from school with a big slate under my arm, when I saw an immense crowd of men in front of the Castle. A carriage was standing in the midst, and I heard the people say : ' It is the Emperor.' For a hundred feet around they were packed as close as they could squeeze, but I thought to myself, ' Karl, thou must see the Emperor, if thou get'st a broken rib for it.' So I stooped down, shot between the leg of the first and pushed towards the carriage. When the crowd became so thick that I could get no further, I punched first one and then the other with the sharp comer of my slate, and did not spare the blows, until they made a way for me. After this subterranean pas- sage, I found myself, with very little breath left, just behind Duke August, who was talking with the Emperor. I looked over the Duke's shoulder, directly into Napoleon's face." " What did you think of him ?" I asked. " Why," said he, "the portraits you see represent the man very well. He had the same square, solid head, but his skin was yellow and looked unclean and unhealthy. Ilis eyes, though — Donnerwetter ! such eyes! Tliey bored into you like a oouple of augers. Some tijne after that he was driving 330 AT HOME AND ABEOAD. around Erfurt in his carriage, and I ran for a quarter of an hour along the top of a high bank beside the road, keeping up with the horses and looking at him. He had a table in the carriage with him, covered with letters and papers ; and ^ long as I ran he never once looked up, but read, and wrote, and arranged. At that time the Germans used to eay that his death would be the salvation of the country, and the thought came into my head, ' Now, if thou hadst but a pistol, thou mightst easily shoot him dead before he knew anything about it.' " As the night wore on, stories gave place to songs, and the Forester, insisting on a chorus, gave bout for bout with my friend, and revived many of the popular ballads of those times. There was a droll catch, ridiculing tie Tyrol- ese, Df which I only remember the follo^ving : " What's the drink of the Tyrolese ? What's their drink? Nothing but water and sour wine, Which they swill like thirsty swine. **Say, what smoke the Tyrolese? What do they smoke ? Fine tobacco they smoke, to be sure : It smells no better than stable manure. "Where are the beds of the Tyrolese ? Where are their beds ? BeautifiU beds have man and spouse, Among the calves and among the cowB^" ko. About midnight our supply of logs, large as it was, began LEPE IN THE THUKINGIAN FOESST, 331 to fail. We had been too prodigal in our holocauet, and the Forester recommended a retreat into the lodge, the floor of which was covered with straw, while the backs of the old chairs, turned bottom upwards, supplied the place ol pillows. I will not say that we slept particularly \^ ell, but we rose all the earlier for that. The meadows were snow- white with frost, and the autumnal woods shone brilliant in the rising sun. Opposite us was the Horselberg, where the Fran Venus (so called by the German peasantry) continued to haunt the earth as late as the twelfth century. Many a knight went into the cavern on the northern side of the mountain, to seek her, but none ever returned. The faith- ful Eckart, the squire of the last adventurer, still sits at the entrance and waits for his master. We walked over the mountain to the village of Ruhla, celebrated for its length, its wealth, and its pretty girls. Ah,'' said the Forester, as we came out of the woods, and looked over the wide sweep of sun-illumined hills, " such days as this are a blessing of Heaven. I remember the time when just a sunny morning made me so happy that I did not know what to do with myself. One day in Spring, as I went through the woods and saw the shadows of the young leaves upon the moss and smelt the buds of the firs and larches, and thought to myself, ' All thy life is to be spent in the splendid forest,' I actually threw myself down and rolled in the grass like a dog, over and over, crazy with joy. I have longed to have the same feeling once jnore in life, but it never comes back again." " Oh," said I, " a man who has such lively blood in his veins, does not get old so soon." " I am growing old, nevertheless," hi? 832 AT HOME AISTD ABKOAI>. answered ; " my sight is not so keen as it was, and latelj I was obliged to feel ashamed before my dog. I shot at a partridge and missed ; the beast turned around and looked me full in the face, but I couldn't meet his look — I turned my head away and blushed. I have no doubt the poot dog tries to account for my failure to this day, but he can't make it out." We came home again the same night, after promising to return to Thai the following week, when the Kirmse would be celebrated. This is an annual festival of the peasantry, of very remote origin. It generally takes place in the Fall, during the interval between Summer and Winter work, and lasts from two to three days. Formerly the Kirmse was ushered in with many ceremonies which are now ahnost entirely obsolete. The young men and girls, in holiday dress, formed in procession, and after a cock had been killed by the leader, marched to the church, where an appropriate service was performed. A sheep was then slaughtered and roasted, and the Kirmse was thoroughly inaugurated by the repast which followed. The church service is still retained, and in this respect the festival bears some resemblance to our Thanksgiving. The preparations are made by a committee of the young peasants, who are called Kirmse-boys, and elect a leader whose command is law. Each boy chooses a maiden as his partner, and the latter is bound to purchase him a gay silk cravat (which he pins upon his right shoulder whilo dancing), as well as to furnish him with food and drink during the three days. This costs the girls from two tc three thalers ($2) apiece, a considerable sum in those parts^ LIFE IN THE THUEINGIAN FOEEST. 38*» but they manage to curtail their expenses by hiring a com mon eating-room, and levying contributions of meal, pota- toes, sausages, and beer, upon all the families in the neigh- borhood. The boys furnish the music, the dancing-hall and the schnapSy which they pay for from the fees exactec from those who do not belong to the committee. The Kirmse is, in fact, a sort of carnival for the German pea- santry, and they allow themselves all sorts of liberties while it lasts. In the ducal meadows near Coburg, for instance, the Duke and Duchess attend, and any Kirmse-boy privileged to call out the latter, while the Duke, in liis turn, waltzes with the prettiest peasant girls. We went again to Thai on the last day of the Kirmse. The fine weather was past, the air threatened snow, and the revellers were beginning to show signs of fatigue ; but the Forester comforted us with the assurance that in the evening all would be merry enough. Soon after our arrival the village band appeared and performed a melan- choly serenade under the window. It was followed by an awkward and riotous company, who proved to be raasqueraders — the boys being girls in male attire, and vice vers&. Having paid our initiation fees to these visi- tors, they withdrew, and we took advantage of the temporary quiet to climb to the ruin of the Scharfen etcin. We found nothing left except the tower, whose walls were of remarkable thickness and solidity, and a fragment of a wall and gateway, over which was sculptured a coat of arms, with the inscription, " House and Hearth of the Lord of Schartienberg, a.d. 1442." Tlie snow wa^ blowing fast down the valley, and by the time we reached 834 AT HOME AND ABROAD. the Forester's house his daughter announced that dinnet was ready. We did full justice to the roasted hare and roe's liver, and did not slight the slim-necked urns filled by the Rhenish naiads. Towards the close of the repast, the Forester insisted on opening a stout old bottle, in order, as he said, to see what was inside of it. An oily, dark- golden fluid slid into his glass from its open mouth. "^Z- lewetternochhinein 1 " he exclaimed, on tasting it ; " that is something ! That is the bottle I have had in my cellar nine years, and kept for a great occasion — and there never was a better time to open it ! " We followed his example : it was genuine Constantia, full of African sun and fire, and from twenty to thirty years old. AUewetter I he again cried, " I had forgotten which was the true bottle, and to think that it should turn up to-day ! The Herr Inspector X gave it to me for my birthday ; but I thought to myself, ' Thou dost not need any such good wine for thy birthday — ^keep it for something better ! * and as long as I live I shall be glad that I did so." By this time the band had made its appearance under the mighty linden in front of the parson's house, and waltzing couples began to wheel around under the boughs, notwithstanding the snow and the raw wind. Presently a deputation, consisting of the Kirmse-leader, his adjutant^ nd two stout maidens, came into the room and gave us a ceremonious invitation to join the dance. The leadei was a rosy, bright-eyed fellow of twenty-two, and hi» partner a tall maiden of great strength, who stood firm upon her feet. "Directly," said the Forester, in answer )^ LIFE THE THUKINGIAN FOfiEST. 335 " but "we must first have our pipes. If every one of you,'* he added, turning to me, " were lying dead in this room, 1 should sit down and howl like a dog, but in fifteen minutes I should get up and light my pipe." As our pipes burned slowly, the deputation came a second time and carried us off to the linden-tree. Th< strong maiden, Elisabetha by name, was transferred to me, and we were soon whirling around inside the ring of admiring spectators. Elisabetha was light on her feet, but very firm ; she needed no support ; she moved like a revolving pillar, around which I revolved in turn, striving to keep pace and to moderate her speed, but I might as well have attempted to regulate the earth's motion on its axis. The Forester, meanwhile, brought out the parson's daughter, and his gray moustache occasionally whizzed past me. I would have transferred the strong Elisabetha to him, but it was too late : round and round we went, and the boughs of the linden seemed to grow broader and to stretch over vast spaces. Finally, there were lindens on every side, and we were obliged to circle all of them ; but at last a voice roared in our ears, " Tou are out of time ! and the strong maiden stopped. The dances under the linden terminated soon afterwards, and the peasants went off to prepare for the night. We first visited the Heiligenstein, across the valley — »nce a monastery, now a tavern ; but as the maidens of Ruhla, with their picturesque dress and their fair com- plexions, did not arrive according to expectation, we returned to Thai, where the Kirmse-boys had already col- lected in the dancing-hall. It was a low room, opposite the S36 AT HOME AND ABROAD. village tavern, with the orchestra on a platform at one end Tlie floor was crowded with peasants, leavmg only a ring i^haped space vacant for the dancers. On our appearance there, about nine o'clock, I was immediately accosted by the Kirmse-leader, who conducted to me the strong Eiisabetha It was impossible to dechne, for she was his chosen sweet heait, and one of the first maidens, in point of her worldly prospects, in the valley. I resolved, however, to let her dance for both of us, and confine my exertions merely to holding on. My companion was fm*nished with a rather pretty partner, named Barbara Hornshoe, and the manner in which her feet pattered upon the floor did justice to her name. The Kirmse-leader seemed to consider us the guests of the village. We were consulted with regard to the dances, and exempted from all obedience to his rule. When he touched the other dancers with his wooden baton, as a sign for them to cease, hb passed us over, greatly to the delight of our powerful partners, whom nothing could tire. One of the dances was a Polonaise^ and consisted in the whole company following the leader, who was Schmidt's son. He danced us down stairs into the street, across the brook and up again, winding up with a rapid galop. After awhile the leader came up with a glass of some dark beve- rage, which he insisted on our drinking. I tasted it : it waft schnaps^ the most villanous kind of brandy, and aa irtrong as it was bad. One taste was sufiicient, but it was no sooner ofiered to the strong Eiisabetha than she emptied the glass without changing a muscle of her countenance. The quantity of this vile drink consumed by the peasant LIFE IN THE THUBINGIAN FOBEST. 33t gii'ls, without any apparent effect, surprised me. It was a stronger proof than I had yet had of the vigor of their constitutions. Before leaving the dancing-hall I gave the leader what we should consider a very trifling fee, but it was so large in bis eyes, that the munificence of the American guest was talked of all over the village. We were serenaded agaiii the next day, and through the harmless fraternization of the J^irmse, received the most friendly and familiar greet- ings on all sides. As for the Forester, who accompanied us a mije or two of our way, we parted from him %^ from an old fiiend, and the days we spent under his roof and beside his camp-fire will not live longer in his memory than in ours. XXVIII. INTERVIEWS WITH GERMAN AUTHORS. While at Coburg in the beginning of October, 1852, I paid a visit to RUckert, the poet, who has a small estate in the adjoining village of Neusass. He has the reputation of being a cold, ascetic man, and never mingles in society. Very few of the Coburgers know him, and many have never once seen him. I fell in with a student of the Orien- tal languages who had some acquaintance with him, and accompanied me to his house. As we were passing through the garden we came upon him suddenly, standing in the midst of a great bed of rose-bushes and gathering the seeds of flowers. In this occupation I recognised the author of " Oriental Roses," but scarcely the poet of Love, the ardent disciple of Hafiz, in the tall, stern, gray-haired man who stood before me. His manner at first was rather cold and constrained, but it was the constraint of a scholar, unaccustomed to strange faces, and therefore ill at easa INTERVIEWS WITH GERMAN AUTHOES. 339 He in^'ited us into the house, and commenced the conver- sation awkwardly, by asking me : " Where have you been ** In the Orient," I answered. This was enough. A sud- den enthusiasm shot into his face, his keen, deep-set eyes kindled, and his whole bearing changed. For two or three hoars the conversation flowed on without a break — on his part a full stream of the richest knowledge, sparkling all over with gleams of poetry. His manner towards me was earnest, kind, and cordial, and charmed me all the more, because I had decided before seeing him, that he was unap preciated and misjudged by his neighbors. I was surprised to find that Rtickert, who is probably the finest Oriental scholar in Europe ( witness his remarkable translation of the MdJcamdt elrJECariri)^ was unacquainted with the true Arabic pronunciation. This, it appears, is not taught in the German universities, probably on account of the difficulty of giving the correct guttural sounds. Nevertheless, he is the only one who has ever reproduced, in another language, the laborious and elaborate Arabic and Persian metres. His knowledge of all European lan- guages is even more profound, and although he does not speak English, he seems to comprehend its genius as tho- roughly as that of his native tongue. Just four years afterwards, I revisited Coburg, princi- pally for the sake of seeing again the noble old poet, who, having heard that I was in Gotha, kindly asked me to call upon him before leaving Germany. I found him living the 8ame studious, secluded life in the little village of Neusass, buried in his Oriental manuscripts and rarely seen by men. His wife (the Luise of his earlier Doems) welcomed me 340 AT HOME AND ABROAD. with, cordiality, and two blooming daughters kept np a lively conversation until the poet appeared. II dw well I remembered that frame, tall and slender as Schiller's, but erect as an Arab chieftain's ; that stately head, with the gray hair parted in front and falling in silver masses on the ehoulders; the strongly modelled brow, under which looked out eyes full of a soft, lambent fire, like those of a seer ; the straight, strong nose, firm, stern lips, and pro- jecting chin, a milder counterpart of Andrew Jackson — the head of a thinker and a poet ! Rtlckert must be nearly, if not quite, seventy years of age. He is still (I venture to say) as productive as ever, although he has published little for some years past. His habits of study have made him shy and abstracted, but the same habits give to his conversation a vigor of thought, a richness of illustration, and a glow of fancy, which I think could scarcely have been surpassed by the monologues of Coleridge. With his soft, bright eyes directed steadily before him, as if he saw the horizon of the desert, he talked of the Arabs who lived before Mohammed with the same familiar intelligence as he would speak of his contem poraries. The lifting of his glance, as he turned towards me now and then, in the earnestness of his discourse, was like an Eastern sunrise. The East lives in his soul, and warms his old age with its eternal summer. TJhland only disputes with Rtlckert the title of being the first of living German poets. He is more simple and pathetic, and his verses appeal more directly to the Ge: man heart. Rtlckert, on the other hand, is half an AsiatiC| and in the splendor of his imagination, as well as his woi: INTERVIEWS WITH GERMAN AUTHORS. 341 derful command of the dexterities of his native language^ is scarcely surpassed by El Hariri himself. There can be no comparison between the two ; they stand on different pedestals. Personally, also, the men have no resemblance, I was in Ttibingen in 1852 — the home of Uhland — and could not find it in my heart to leave without speaking to the man whose "Minstrel's Curse" and "Little Roland" had been haunting my brain for so many years. I wrote a note stating my desire, and immediately received an in- vitation to call upon him. I found him in a house over- looking the valley of the J^eckar, in a little, dark, barely furnished library. He came forward to meet me — a small, wrinkled, dry old man of at least seventy, with a bakl head and curious puckers in the corners of his mouth and eyes. But the eyes themselves were as soft, blue, and clear as a child's, and there was a winning, child-like sim- plicity in his manner, despite a certain awkwardness and frigidity which at first showed itself. We sat down together on the little leather-covered sof i behind his desk, and he talked very pleasantly for an hour , I asked whether he had written anything recently, Ox whether he had, perhaps, grown weary of that '* Pleasure in poetic pains, Which only poets know." ** I should not like to swear," he said in answer, " that 1 shall write no more songs. I have as much pleasure in what I have done, as ever ; but there is no longer the same necessity for expression, and I never write without a strong necessity. I hear the same music in my brain, but am con* 842 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. tent to hear it without singing it." Just the answer I should have expected from a true poet. At the table of a friend in Coburg I met with Frede- rick Gerstacker, the distinguished traveller and author. I had spent an afternoon with him in the Rosenthal, near Lcipsic, eleven years before; but he had compassed the earth since then — ^had ridden across the Pampas, washed gold in California, played the guitar in Tahiti, tramped through Australia, and listened to the songs of Malay girls m J ava. He was but little changed, except in wearing a thick brown beard, which mitigated the somewhat harsh projection of his under jaw. There was the same lithe, wiry frame, unworn by much endurance, the sloping brow^, expanding to a wedge-like shape at the temples, and the quick, keen, vivacious gray eye, as I remembered them in 1845. Gerstacker has one of those faces which are never forgotten. His individuality is strongly marked ; he takes and gives impressions with equal force, and thus adventures and picturesque experiences come to him unsought, which is the greatest fortune a traveller can have. His workfe have been very successful, and yield him (what few Germaw authors can boast of) a handsome income. Duke Ernest of Saxe-Coburg Gotha, who m distin- guished among German princes by an intelligent taste for literature and art, has made choice of Gerstacker as his special friend and companion. The latter, who is an enthusiastic hunter, accompanies him every fall to the Tyrol, where they spend weeks on the mountain-tops, sleeping in chalets, and creeping all day among the rocks to waylay the chamois. They had just returned from ENTER VTEWS WITH GERMAN AUTHORS. 8 i3 iBUcli an excursion, during which Gerst'acker, in spite of a bullet-wouLd in his left hand, succeeded in shooting nine: He was then engaged in writing romances, the material for which was m most part derived from his experiences of travel. I do not believe, however, that his daring, adven turous spirit will be long satisfied with the quiet of hia home at Rosenau. He will soon crave a fresh stock of those vital experiences, which in their present enjoyment far su pass all anticipation and all memory. At Dresden I was welcomed by my friend Alexander Zieglor, who had just returned from a visit to the midnight sun at Hammerfest. His face had waxed round and ruddy in the breezes of the North, and from the interest with whic h he spoke of his journey I at once anticipated a new volume from his pen. Ziegler is known in Germany as the author of Travels in America, Spain, and the Orient. Hi? works are distinguished by a clear, practical, serious habit of observation, a scrupulous attention to details, combined with considerable power of generalization, and a cheerful, genial tone, which never rises into the realms of the ima- gination, but often sparkles with touches of graphic humor, He is enough of the cosmopolite to enjoy the most widely- separated spheres of travel, and it is scarcely likely that he will remain very long at home while his nature retains its present buoyancy and restless activity of life. Dresden is at present the literary capital of Germany although the King of Bavaria, by drawing around him Ruch men as Bodenstedt and Geibel, seeks to secure that iistinction for Munich. Freytag, the author of that admi- rable novel, " Soil und Hdben^^'* resides in Leipsic, and 344 AT HOME AND ABiiOAD. Miigge, whose " Afraja" has charmed American readers^ in Berlin ; but in Dresden are grouped Auerbach, Gutskow, Dr. Andree, Wolfssohn, JTulius Hammer, and Otto Ro- quette, besides Professor Reichenbach, Steinle, the engrav^ei Dahl, the old Norwegian painter, and a host of othes artists. I was fortunate enough to find the pass-word tc this charmed circle. Authors and artists have the same masonic signs all over the world, and the cloud of smoke which filled their private hall of meeting in the rear of the Cafe de I'Europe was the same fiimiliar atmosphere which my fellow centurions are wont to inhale at home. Auerbach, whose Dorfgeschichten^^ (Village Stories) from the Black Forest have a European reputation, is a short, broad-shouldered, muscular, ruddy-faced man, about forty-six years of age. His eyes are large, wide apart, and brownish-gray, and the lower part of his face is comfort- ably enveloped in a short, thick brown beard. He is one of those hale, honest, clear-seeing natures, of which there are too few in the world — a mixture of keen intelligence and child-like simplicity and naivete, such as we find in the dramatists of the Elizabethan age. He knows the woods and mountains too well to be fettered by the frigid conven- tionalities which rule the talk of society. He is too unccn- acious of them even to notice them with his scorn ; but speaks straight from the heart, whatever comes first, and everything as it comes — ^fun, earnest, satire, enthusiasm. He says many good things, and even where he hits pretty •harply, is so genial and true-hearted thereby that no wound is left behind. I was interested to find how immediately Auerbach and INTERVIEWS WITH GEKilAN AUTHORS. 345 my companion understood each other. Authors hav3 per haj)S the truest instincts of character in other men, bat those who lead a free Ufe in close communion with nature — hunters, sailors, and lumbermei\ who can dare to act without subterfuge, compromise, or even the ordinary considerations of worldly prudence — are scarcely less cor- rect in their sympathies. They may be unable to appre- ciate particular ranges of intellect, but they read character at a glance. The German author and the American sailor in spite of their totally divergent lives and experiences ol mankind, knew each other at first sight, with as just an estimation as the literary friends of the one or the faithful- est shipmates of the other, after years of familiar intercourse. Dr. Karl Andree, the distinguished geographer, was in one respect a wonder to me. There is not a man in Europe, I venture to say, and not a great many in the United States, who possess such an intimate knowledge of our country and its institutions, its geography, its statistics, and its social and political life. It was curious to sit in his library in Dresden, knowing that he had never crossed the Atlantic, and to hear him discuss the aberrations of Ameri- can editors, and reveal the wire-working of our demagogues and political jugglers, even to the smallest. Andree is at the same time one of the hardest workers and best com- panions in the w^orld — a mixture which I wish were more common in America. We have the workers in plenty, but work too often robs us of the social amenities of life. In company with Ziegler I called upon Gutzkow, the dramatist, who unquestionably stands at the head of living German writers for the stage. His play of "Zo/j/^ und ^46 AT HOME AND ABROAD. Schioert (Queue and Sword) has for many years kept a place on the boards of all the theatres between the Alps and the Baltic. He is a small man, forty years of age, with blonde hair and moustache, gray eyes, a forcible nose^ ^nd an expression in which keenness and clearness of mental insight is predominant. Judging by his face, I should say that he is patient, persevering, and conscien- tious in execution, sharp and rapid in his appreciation of what he needs and can use, but effective rather through his outside knowledge of men and of life, than from great power and warmth of passion in himself. His bearing was courteous and kind, but he impressed me like a clear winter morning after feeling the mellow summer glow of Auerbach. Wolfssohn, whose recent success as a dramatist, in his play of Nur eine Seele^^ (Only a Soul), has delighted his friends, and brought him what true success always brings — envy — ^is also distinguished for his translations from the Russian. He resided for some time in Moscow, and has made his knowledge of Russian life very effective in his plays, which are mostly Russian in subject. He is a quiet, genial, studious man, and I regretted that a temporary indisposition prevented me from seeing as much of him as I wished. Julius Hammer is the author of a volume of poems entitled Schau in Dich und Schau um Dich'^'* (Look within Thee and around Thee). It is one of the most suc- cessful of recent books of German poems, having rapidlj run through five editions. Its character is serious and reflective, rather than imaginative, but pervaded witlr DfTBRVIEWS WrCH GERMAN AUTHOBS. 341 warm auman sympathies. In calling upon Hammer 1 met with one of those pleasant surprises which rarely come to those who send their children into the world, trusting their existence to their own powers of vitality. He was sitting at his desk, writing the last line of a translation of one of my own poems, which he immediately read to me in its new dress. While in Berlin, the same year, I paid a visit to Dr. Karl Ritter, the distinguished geographer, to whom I had a letter of introduction from my friend Ziegler. I found him at his rooms, overlooking the Gendarm-markt, and, though I happened to call during his hours of study, was at once admitted. Through two rooms, crammed with books from floor to ceiling, I passed to his workshop, which was furnished in the same manner, and exhaled the same delightfully infectious odor of antique leather. He was sitting at his desk, in the midst of a chaos of books and papers, but rose and came forward as I entered. Here was again a massive Teutonic head, larger than Humboldt's, but not so symmetrically balanced, a broad, overhanging brow, shading large and friendly eyes, a strong nose, and one of those ample, irregular mouths, in which the expression of kindness and goodness atones for the absence of beauty. His hair was gray and thin, for he must have seen at least sixty-five summers, but his tall figure was still erect and full of strength. The dressing-gown he wore, with his unbuttoned collar and bare throat, gave a certain gra(;e and dignity to his appearance, not unlike that which belongs to the picturt Goethe in his latter days. 843 AT HOME AND ABROAD. Our conversation was mostly geographical, aud though I remained but half an hour, through fear of interrupting his labors, it served to illustrate his immense knowledge. He touched upon the Japanese and the Chinese, the Tartars 9ind Thibetans, the Lapps and Samoyeds, the Shillooks, the Diiikas, and the Bushmen ; described the formation of their respective countries, the climate and productions, their habits, laws, and religions. My projected journey to Lapland appeared to interest him, and he advised me to notice the result of the Swedish missionary labors among that people, and to contrast it with the operation of similar labors in Lidia and China. The interior of Swedish Lapp- mark was, he admitted, a comparatively unknown region, and he commended my design of visiting it in the winter, when the facilities of getting from point to point are much greater than in summer, and the Lapps are gathered to- gether in their villages. He recommended the work of Leojiold von Buch as the best description of Norway and Lapland. Ritter is now engaged in the publication of a Universal Geography, which, so far as it has appeared, far surpasses all previous works of the same character, in the richness and accuracy of its information. The Germans are undoubtedly at present the greatest geographers in the world, and the French, despite their claims, the worst. I was fortunate in having a letter to Theodor Miigge^ the author of "Afraja" and "Eric Randal." When I called at his residence, accordmg to a previous appoint- ment, a pretty little girl of seven or eight years opened the door. " Is Herr Dr. Mftgge at home ? I asked. She Wfmt to an adjacent door and cried out, " Father, are yor INTERVIEWS WITH GERMAN AUTHORS. Sit at home ? " Ja wohl,'^^ answered a sturdy voice ; and presently a tall, broad-shouldered, and rather handsome man of over forty years made his appearance. He wore a thick; brown beard, spectacles, was a little bald about the temples, and spoke with a decided North-German accent. His manner at first was marked with more reserve than is common among Germans ; but I had the pleasure of meet- ing him more than once, and found that the outer shell covered a kernel of good humor and good feeling. Like many other authors, MUgge has received hardly as much honor in his own country as he deserves. Jib "Afraja," one of the most remarkable romances of this generation, is just beginning to be read and valued. He was entirely unacquainted v/ith the fact that it had been translated in America, where five or six editions were sold in a very few months. I could give him no better evidence of its success than the experience of a friend of mbie, who was carried thirteen miles past his home, on a New-Haven railroad train, while absorbed in its pages. He informed rae that the idea of the story was suggested to him during nis residence at Tromsoe, on the IvTorwegian coast, where, among some musty official records, he found the minutes of the last trial and execution of a Lapp for witchcraft, about a century ago. This Lapp, who was a sort of Chieftain in his clan, had been applied to by some Danish traders to ftirniah them with good wind during their voyage. He sold them breezes from the right quarter, but the vessel was wrecked and all hands drowned. When asked, during his tnal, whether he had not furnished a bad instead of a good wind, be answered haughtily: "Yes, I sold thorn tli# 360 AT HOME AND ABHOAD. bad wind, becanse I hated them, as I hate yoa, and all the brood of thieves who have robbed me and my people of our land." I referred to the character of Niels Helgestad and spoke of his strong resemblance, in many respects, to one of our Yankee traders of the harder and coarser kind Mftgge assured me that I would find many of the same type still existing, when I should visit the Lofoden isles. He spent a Summer among the scenes described in "Afraja,'* and his descriptions are so remarkably faithful that Alex- ander Ziegler used the book as his best guide in going ovet the same groand. XXIX. ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT. I CAMS to Berlin for the first time, in November, 1856, noi to visit its museums and galleries, its magnificent street of lindens, its operas and theatres, nor to mingle in the gay life of its streets and salons, but for the sake of seeing and speaking with the world's greatest living man — ^Alexander von Humboldt. At that time, with his great age and his universal renown^ regarded as a throned monarch in the world of science, his fidends were obliged, perforce, to protect him fi-om the ex- haustive homage of his thousands of subjects, and, for his own sake, to make difficult the ways of access to him. The fnend and familiar companion of the king, he might be said, equally, to hold his own court, with the privilege, however, of at any time breaking through the formalities which only self-defence had rendered necessary. Some of my works, I knew, had found their way into his hands : 1 ^52 AT HOME AND ABROAD. was at the beginning of a journey which would probably lead me through regions which his feet had traversed and his genius illustrated, and it was not merely a natural curiosity which attracted me towards him. I followed the advice of some German friends, and made use of no media ory influence, but simply dispatched a note to him, stating my name and object, and asking for an interview. Three days afterwards I received through the city post a reply in his own hand, stating that, although he was suffering from a cold which had followed his removal from Potsdam to the capital, he would willingly receive me, and appointed one o'clock the next day for the visit. I was punctual to the minute, and reached his residence in the Oranienburger-strasse, as the clock struck. While in Berlin, he lived with his servant, Seifert, whose name only I found on the door. It was a plain two-story house, with a dull pink front, and inhabited, like most of the houses in German cities, by two or three families. The bell-wire over Seifert's name came from the second story. I pulled : the hesiY J porte-cocMre opened of itself, and I mounted the steps until I reached a second bell-pull, over a plate in scribed " Alexander von Humboldt." A stout, square-faced man of about fifty, whom I at once recognized as Seifert, opened the door for me. Are you Herr Taylor?" he asked; and added, on receiving my reply : " His Excellency is ready to receive you." He ushered me into a room filled with stuffed birds and other objects of natural history; then into a large library, which apparently contained the gifts of authors, artists, and men of science. I walked between two long tables heaped with ALKXAi^DEK VON HUMBOLDT. 353 sumptuous folios, to the flirther door, which opened into the Btudy. Those who have seen the admirable colored litho- graph of Hildebrand's picture, know precisely how the oom looks. There was the plain table, the writing-desk covered with letters and manuscripts, the little green sofa, and the same maps and pictures on the drab-colored walls. The picture had been so long hanging in my own room at home, that I at once recognised each particular object. Seifert went to an inner door, announced my name, and Humboldt immediately appeared. He came up to me with a heartiness and cordiality which made me feel that I was in the presence of a friend, gave me his hand, and inquired whether we should converse in English or German. " Tour letter," said he, "w^as that of a German, and you must certainly speak the language familiarly ; but I am also iii the constant habit of using English." He insisted on my taking one end of the green sofa, observing that he rarely sat upon it himself, then drew up a plain cane-bottomed chair and seated himself beside it, asking me to speak a little louder than usual, as his hearing was not so acute as formerly. As I looked at the majestic old man, the line of Tennyson, describing Wellington, came into my mind: "Oh, good gray head, which all men knew." The first impression made by Humboldt's face was that of a broad and genia humanity. His massive brow, heavy with the gathered wisdom of nearly a century, bent forward and overhung his breast, like a ripe ear of corn, but as you looked below it, a pair o^ clear blue eyes, almost as bright and steady as a child's, met your own. In those eyes you read that trust 354 AT HOME ANlj ABiiOAB. in man, that immortal youth of the ieart, which made th« snows of eighty-seven Winters lie so lightly upon his head. You trusted him utterly at the first glance, and you felt that he would trust you, if you were worthy of it. I had approached him with a natural feeling of reverence, but in five minutes I found that I loved him, and could talk mth him as freely as with a friend of my own age. His nose, mouth, and chin had the heavy Teutonic character, whose genuine type always expresses an honest simplicity and directness. I was most surprised by the youthful character of his face. I knew that he had been frequently indisposed during the year, and had been told that he was beginning to show the marks of his extreme age, but I should not have suspected him of being over seventy-five. His wrin- kles were few and small, and his skin had a smoothness and delicacy rarely seen in old men. His hair, although snow- white, was still abundant, his step slow but firm, and his manner active almost to restlessness. He slept but four hours out of the twenty-four, read and replied to his daily rain of letters, and suffered no single occurrence of the least interest in any part of the world to escape his attention. I could not perceive that his memory, the first mental faculty to show decay, was at all impaired. He talked rapidly, with the greatest apparent ease, never hesitating for a word, whether in English or German, and, in fact, seemed to be unconscious which language he was using, as he changed five or six times in the course of the conversation. He did not remain in his chair more than ten minutes at a time, frequently getting up and walking about the room, now and ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT, then point ng to a pictui'e or opening a book to illustrate some remark. He began by referring to my winter journey into Lap- land. " Why do you choose the winter ? " he asked • ^ Your experiences will be very interesting, it is true, but will you not suffer from the severe cold ? " That remains to be seen," I answered. " I have tried all climates except the Arctic, without the least injury. The last two years of my travels were spent in tropical countries, and now T wish to have the strongest possible contrast." " That is quite natural," he remarked, " and I can imderstand how your object in travel must lead you to seek such contrasts ; but you must possess a remarkably healthy organization,*' " You doubtless know, from your own experience," I said, "that nothing preserves a man's vitality like travel." "Very true," he answered, "if it does not kill at the outset. For my part, I keep my health everywhere, like yourself. During five years in South America and the West Indies, I passed through the midst of black vomit and yellow fever untouched." I spoke of my projected visit to Russia, and my desire to traverse the Russian-Tartar provinces of Central Asia. The Kirghiz steppes, he said, were very monotonous ; fifty milei gave you the picture of a thousand ; but the people were exceedingly interesting. If I desired to go there, I would have no difiiculty in passing through them to the Chinese frontier ; but the southern provinces of Siberia, he thought, would best repay me. The scenery among the Altai Mountains was very grand. From his window in one of the Siberian towns, he had counted eleven peaks covered 356 Al HOME AKD ABKOilD. with eternal snow. The Ku*ghizes, he added, were among the few races whose habits had remained unchanged for thousands of years, and they had the remarkable pecu- liarity of combining a monastic with a nomadic life. They were partly Buddhist and partly Mussulman, and their monkish sects followed the different clans in their wander Ings, carrying on their devotions in the encampments, inside of a sacred circle marked out by spears. He had seen their ceremonies, and was struck with their resem- blance to those of the Catholic church. Humboldt's recollections of the Altai Mountains natu rally led him to speak of the Andes. " You have travelled in Mexico," said he : " do you not agree with me in the opinion that the finest mountains in the world are those Bingle cones of perpetual snow rising out of the splendid vegetation of the tropics? The Himalayas, although lof tier, can scarcely make an equal impression ; they lie further to the north, without the belt of tropical growths, and their sides are dreary and sterile in comparison. You remember Orizaba," continued he ; here is an engraving from a rough sketch of mine. I hope you will find it correct." He rose and took down the illustrated folio which accompanied the last edition of his " Minor Writ- ings," turned over the leaves and recalled, at each plate, some reminiscence of his American travel. " I still think,'' he remarked as he closed the book, " that Chimborazo it the grandest mountain in the world." Among the objects in his study was a living chameleon, in a box with a glass lid. The animal, which was about six inches long, was lazilv dozing on a bed of sand, with a AUXANDBB VON HUMBOLDT, 35) big bhae-fly (the unconscious provision for his dmner) perched upon his back. "He has just been sent to me from Smyrna," said Humboldt; "he is very listless and unconcerned in his manner." Just then the chameleon opened one of his long, tubular eyes, and looked up at us ** A peculiarity of this animal," he continued, " is its powei of looking in different directions at the same time. H can turn one eye towards heaven, while with the other he mspects the earth. There are many clergymen who have the same power." After showing me some of Hildebrand's water-color drawings, he returned to his seat and began to converse about American affairs, with which he seemed to be entirely famihar. He spoke with great admiration of Colonel Fremont, whose defeat he profoundly regretted. " But it is at least a most cheering sign," he said, " and an omen of good for your country, that more than a milUon of men supported by their votes a man of Fre- mont's character and achievements." With regard to Buchanan, he said: "I had occasion to speak of his Ostend Manifesto not long since, in a letter which has been published, and I could not characterize its spirit by any milder term than savaged He also spoke of our authors, and inquired particularly after Washington Irving whom he had once seen. I told him I had the fortune to know Mr. Irving, and had seen him not long before leaving New York. " He must be at least fifty years old," said Humboldt. "He is seventy," I answered, "but as young as ever." " Ab ! " said he, " I have lived so long that I ha\e almost lost the consciousness of time. I belong 358 AT HOME AND ABROAD. to the age of Jefferson and Gallatin, and I heard of Washmgton's death while travelling in South America." I have repeated but the smallest portion of his conver sation, which flowed on in an uninterrupted stream of the richest knowledge. On recalling it to my mind, aftei leaving, I was surprised to find how great a number of subjects he had touched upon, and how much he had said, or seemed to have said — ^for he had the rare faculty of placing a subject in the clearest and most vivid light by a few luminous words — concerning each. He thought, as he talked, without effort. I should compare his brain to the fountain of Vaucluse — a still, deep, and tranquil pool, without a ripple on its surface, but creating a river by its overflow. He asked me many questions, but did not always wait for an answer, the question itself suggesting Bome reminiscence, or some thought which he had evident pleasure in expressing. I sat or walked, following his movements, an eager listener, and speaking in alternate English and German, until the time which he had granted to me had expired. Seifert at length reappeared and said to him, m a manner at once respectful and familiar, " It is time," and I took my leave. You have travelled much, and seen many ruins," said Humboldt, as he gave me his hand again; "now you have seen one more." " Not a ruin," I could not help reply- ing, "but a pyramid." For I pressed the hand which had touched those of Frederick the Great, of Forster, the companion of Capt. Cook, of Klopstock and Schiller, of Pitt, Napoleon, Josephine, the Marshals of the Empire, Jefferson, Hamilton, Wieland, Herder, Goethe, Cuvior, La ALEXANDER YON HUMBOLDT. 359 Place, Gay Lussac, Beethoven, Walter Scott — ^in short, of every great man whom Europe has produced for three- quarters of a century. I looked into the eyes which had not only seen this living history of the world pass by, ficene after scene, till the actors retired one by one, to return no more, but had beheld the cataract of Atures and the forests of the Cassiquiare, Chimborazo, the Amazon, and Popocatepetl, the Altaian Alps of Siberia, the Tartar steppes, and the Caspian Sea. Such a splendid circle of experience well befitted a life of such generous devotion to science. I have never seen so sublime an example of old age — crowned with imperishable success, full of the ripest wisdom, cheered and sweetened by the noblest attri- butes of the heart. A ruin, indeed! No: a human temple, perfect as the Parthenon. As I was passing out through the cabinet of Natural History, Seifert's voice arrested me. " I beg your pardon, Sir," said he, *^but do you know what this is?'' pointing to the antlers of a Rocky-Mountain elk. " Of course I do," said I, " I have helped to eat many of them." He then pointed out the other specimens, and took me into the library to show me some drawings by his son-in-law, Mollhausen, who had accompanied Lieut. Whipple in his expedition to the Rocky Mountains. He also showed me a very elaborate specimen of bead-work, in a gilt fi-ame. " This," he said, " is the work of a IQrghiz princess, who presented it to His Excellency when we were on our jour ney to Siberia." " You accompanied His Excellency then I asked. " Yes," said he ; " we were there in '29." Seifert is justly proud of having shared for thirty or forty yearg 360 AT HOME AND ABROAD. the fortunes of his master. There was a ring, and a ser vant came in to announce a visitor. "Ah, the Prince Ypsilanti," said he: "don't let him in; don't let a single soul in ; I must go and dress His Excellency. Sir, excuse me — yours, most respectfully," and therewith he bowed himself out. As I descended to the street, I passed Prince Ypsilanti on the stairs. In October, 1857, 1 was once more in Berlin, on my re- turn from the North of Europe. As I had some business to transact, which would detain me three or four days, 1 sent a note to Humboldt, asking permission to call upon him again, in case his time permitted the visit. The next day's express from Potsdam brought me a most kind and friendly reply, welcoming me back to the "Baltic sand- sea," as he called the Brandenburg plain, and stating that, although the Emperor Alexander and his suite were to arrive that evening, he would nevertheless take an hour or two from the excitement of the Court to talk to me about the North. He w^as residing in the Palace at Potsdam, where he directed me to call at noon on Monday. The train by which I left BerUn was fiUed with officers and diplomatic officials in full uniform, going down to do homage to the Czar. In the carriage in which I sat, were two old gentlemen who presently commenced conversing in I'rench. After a time, their talk wandered to the Orient, and they spoke of Diebitsch and his campaigns, and the treaty of Unkiar-Iskelessi. Suddenly, one of them asked in Arabic, " Do you speak Arabic ?" The other answerer ALEXAOT)EK VON HUMBOLDT. 861 in Turkish, " No, but I speak Turkish.'' The first replied ill the same language, which, after a time, the two exchang ed for Modem Greek, and finally subsided into Russian. I made out that one was a Wallachian, but could discover nothing more, notwithstanding there was an air of a ecret mission about them, which greatly piqued my uriosity. Potsdam was all alive with the Imperial arrival. The King of Saxony was also coming to dinner ; and, that the three monarchs might be pleasantly diverted in the even- ing, the sparkling Marie Taglioni, who had arrived wnth us, tripped out of the cars and off to the Royal Theatre. The park at Sans Souci was in brilliant holiday trim, the walks newly swept, and the fountains jetting their tallest lind brightest streams. The streets of the dull little court- town glittered with resplendent uniforms, among which the driver of my carriage pointed out Carl, Albert, and various other princes of the House of Prussia. As we were crossing an open space near the palace, a mounted guard, followed by an open carriage, drawn by a span of superb black horses, suddenly appeared. I at once recog- nised the punchy figure in a green military coat, buttoned up to the chin, who sat on the right hand, although I had never before seen his Majesty. My driver reined up on one side and took off his hat. I lifted mine as the King passed, looked at him, and he replied with a military salute. His face was slightly flushed and his eyes bright, and I remember thinking that the heavy and rather stupid air which he wears in his portraits did him injustice. But he was even then laboring under that congestion which struck 862 AT HOME AND ABROAD. bim down the same night, and from the effects of which h% will never recover. I was glad when the clock struck twelve at last, and I could leave the rattling streets for that quiet comer of the palace in which Humboldt lives. The door was opened, as before, by Seifert, who recognised me at once. " Welcome backl" he cried; "we know where you have been — we have read all your letters ! His Excellency has been quite sick, and you will not find him so strong as he was last year, but he is in tolerable health again, thank God ! Come in, come in ; he is waiting." Opening the door as he spoke, he ushered me into a little library, on the threshold of which Humboldt, who had risen, received me. He was slightly paler than before, a little thinner, perhaps, and I could see that his step was not so firm ; but the pale-blue eye beamed as clear an intelligence as ever, and the voice had as steady and cheery a tone. He shook hands with the cordiality of a friend, and, after the first greetings were over, questioned me minutely concerning my travels in the North. But one topic soon suggests a hundred others, and he was ere long roaming at large over the whole field of geo- graphy and climatology, touching the farthest and darkest regions of the earth with the light of his stupendous knowledge. The sheets of the new volume of Cosmos lay upon the table. " Here is what I have been doing, since you were here before," said he, taking it up, " the work will be published in two or three weeks." "You find yourself, then, still capable of such labor ? " I ventured to %sk. " Work w now a part of my life," said he ; "I sleep ALEXANDER YON HUMBOLDT. 363 BO little, and much rest would be irksome. Day before yes terday, I worked for sixteen hours, reviewing these sheets.'^ *' Are you not greatly fatigued," I asked, " after suud an exertion ?" " On the contrary," he replied, " I feel re- freshed, but the performance of it depends greatly on my state of bodily health. I am unconscious of any mental fatigue." As I saw in the face, and heard in the voice of the splendid old man, all the signs of a sound, unfailing in- tellect, I could well believe it. I had prided myself a little on having worked with the brain fifteen hours a day for six months, yet here was Humboldt, in his eighty-ninth year, capable of an equal exertion. The manner in which he spoke of his bodily health was exceedingly interesting to me. His mind, full of vigor and overflowing with active life, seemed to consider the body as something independent of itself, and to watch, with a curious eye, its gradual decay, as he might have watched that of a tree in his younger days. " I have been unwell through the Summer," said he, " but you must not believe al! you may have seen in the newspapers concerning my illness. They stated that I was attacked with apoplexy, but it was only a vertigo, which soon left me, and has not been fol lowed by any of the usual effects of apoplexy. One result, however, shows that my body is beginning to give way. I have not the same power of controlling my limbs as for- merly ; the will does not seem to act upon the muscles ; there is a link broken somewhere, which it is probably too late to restore. For instance, very often, when I attempt to walk straight forward, I do not feel certain that my leg^! will carry me in a straight line ; they may go either to on« 364 AT HOMB AND ABROAD. side or the other, and, though I cannot notice any leal want of strength, I fee' uncertain and mistrustful. For this reason, I must have assistance when I go up or down stairs. After all, it is not singular that some parts of the machinery should get rusty at my age." Soon afterwards, while speaking of Thibet, he referred to a very fine copper- plate map, and I noticed that he saw the most minute names distinctly, without the aid of spectacles. But then he had the eyes of a youth of twenty years. Age might palsy his Umbs, but it never looked out of those windows. After I had been sitting an hour, Seifert came to the door and said : " The two gentlemen have come — shall I admit them?** I rose to leave, but Humboldt said ; " iNTo, no — remain. They are from Hong-Kong: perhaps you know them." I looked at the cards, and recognised an acquaintance in the name of the editor of a Hong-Kong paper. The other was a Government official. After they entered, the conversation took a more general tone, but I was not sorry for this afterwards, as it gave Humboldt occa- sion to recall some scenes of his early life. One of the visitors spoke of Frederick the Great. " I remember him well," said Humboldt, " I was sixteen years old when he died, and I can see his face still as plainly as I can see yours. I was but eighteen when I visited England for the first time. It was during the trial of Warren Hastings, which I frequently attended. I remember that I heard Edmund Burke, Pitt, and Sheridan all speak on the same night.*' After the visitors left, I remained with him until it was time for him to prepare for the dinner given to Alexandei ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT. 365 IL, to which he was bidden. "You will pass through Berlin on your way to Moscow ? " said he. " Yes." *' Well — I must be polite enough to live until then. You must bring your wife with you. Oh, I know all about ii, and you must not think, because I have never been married myself, that I do not congratulate you." After these cor- dial words, and a clasp of the hand, in which there waa nothing weak or tremulous, I parted from the immortal old mam XXX. SUMMER GOSSIP FROM ENGLAND. [1 85T.1 As it was necessary that I should visit London on matters of business, before proceeding to Norway, I took the opportunity of accompanying my brother and sisters as far as Southampton, on their voyage home. Leaving Gotha on the 9th of June, we went by rail to Bremen, by way of Cassel and Hanover. The only thing in the former city which we had time to visit was the celebrated Rathsheller^ or crypt of the old Hall of Council. This is renowned through all Germany for its tuns of Rhenish wme, of the most undoubted antiquity. They are kept in great vaults, distinguished by different titles. That of the "Twelve Apostles " has been immortalized by Hauff and Heine, but the apostolical wines are not so fine as those authors would have us believe. Each cask bears the name of one of the Apostles; they contain wine of the vintage of 1718, which SUMMER GOSSIP FEOM ENGLAND. 387 has now, I was informed, a pungent acid flavor. That of Judas, alone, retains a pleasant aroma, and the sinner, therefore, is in greater demand than all the saints together In the " Rose Cellar " are enormous casks, yet filled with flockheimer (Hock) of the \diitage of 1624. For a couple of centuries it was carefully treasured, but the City Fathers of Bremen finally discovered that the longer it was kept the worse it grew, and now sell it to visitors, in small bottles, at a moderate price. We sat down in one of the stalls in the outer cellar, and had a bottle micorked. Think of drinking wine which grew when the Plymouth Colony was but four years old — of the same vintage which Ariosto might have drunk, and Milton, and Cromwell, and Wallenstein, and Gustavus Adolphus! Shakespeare had been dead but eight years when the grapes were trodden in the vats ; and Ben Jonson may have sung his " Drink to me only with thine eyes" over a goblet of the golden juice. We filled the glasses with great solemnity as these thoughts passed through our minds — admired its dark, smoky color, sniffed up reverently its musky, mummy-like odor, and then tasted Fancy a mixture of oil and vinegar, flavored with a small drop of kreosote ! This, as I afterwards recognised, was the impression made upon the palate, though my imagina tion was too busy at the time to be aware of it. We all said, *' It is not so bad as I expected," and, by keeping the &ct of its age constantly before our eyes, succeeded in emptying tha bottle. So pungent, however, was the smoky, oily, acidulous flavor, that it affected my palate for full twenty-four hours afterwards, and everything ] AT HOME AJSD ABROAD. ate or drank in that time seemed to be of tl e vintage oi 1624. I reached London in season to hear the last of Handel's oratorios — Israel m Egypt — in the Palace at Sydenham. I doubt whether any composer, dead or alive, has ever had iSuch an ovation. Two thousand singers and nearly three hundred instrumental performers interpreted his choruses to an audience of more than seventeen thousand persons. ITie coup d'^ceil alone was sublimer than any picture. The vast ampliitheatre of singers, filling up the whole breadth of the western transept, stretched off into space, and the simultaneous turning of the leaves of their music books was like the appearance of " an army with banners," or the rustling of the wind in a mountain forest. We were so late that we could only cling to the outskirts of the multitude below, and I was fearful that we should not be able to hear distinctly — ^but I might as well have feared not hearing the thunder in a cloud over my head. Not only was the quarter of a mile of palace completely filled with the waves of the chorus, in every part, but they spread beyond it, and flowed audibly over the hills for a mile around. I kept my eye on the leader. Da Costa, whose single arm controlled the whirlwind. He lifted it, like Moses, and the plagues fell upon Egypt ; he waved it, and the hailstones smote, crashing upon the highwayB and the temple-roofs; he stretched it forth, and the Eed Sea wave* parted, and closed again on the chariots of Pharaoh. He was lord of the tuneful hosts that day, and Handel him- gelf, as he wrote the scores of the immortal work, could not have more perfectly incarnated its harmonies. FolloW' SUMMES GOSSIP FSOM ENGLAND. 360 ing him, I trod in the thunder-marches of the two-fold chorus, and stood in the central calm of the stormy whirls of sound. There is no doubt that, with the masses of the English ieople, Handel is the most popular composer. The opera s still an exotic, not yet naturalized to their tastes ; but Handel, with his seriousness, his cheerfulness, his earnest- ness, his serene self-reliance, and undaunted daring, speaks directly to the English heart. His very graces have the simple quaintness of the songs of Shakespeare, or those touches of tender fancy which glimmer like spots of sun- shine through the cathedral gloom of Milton. The effect of the grand performance, however, was frequently marred by the sharp, dry sound of senseless clappings, demanding an encore, which Da Costa sensibly refused whenever it was possible. We who stood in the edges of the crowd were also greatly annoyed by the creaking boots of snobs who went idly walking up and down the aisles, and the chatter of the feminine fools, who came only to be heard and seen. In New York one might have the same annoy- ance, but by no possibility could it happen in Germany. Don Giovanni was having a great run in both Italian Operas, Grisi and Piccolomini being rivals in the part of Donna Anna, I heard the former, and wondered at the consummate skill with which she managed a failing voice. Uosio was the Zerlina^ but, though sweet and graceful as fcver, she seemed to have lost something since she was in New York, iBve or six years before. Herr Formes, as Leporello^ was admirable, and Cerito appeared in the ballet acene with all her former grace and beauty ; but the Italian ^70 AT HOMS AND ABBOAD. Opera in London is not now what it was in Lumley's palm; days. Entertainments by individuals — single-string per- formers playing on " a harp of a thousand strings " — are now very popular. The success of Albert Smith and Gor- don Gumming has led the way to a number of solo per- tormances, nearly all of which are very well attended. Mr. Drayton (an American, I believe) gives what he calls " Il- lustrated Proverbs;'* Miss P. Horton exhibits something of the same kind ; Mr, Woodin pours forth an " Olio of Oddities Mr. and Mrs. Wilton announce their " Evenings with the American Poets," etc. All the world crowds on a Sunday to hear the Rev. Mr. Spurgeon, who preaches in the Surrey Musical Hall. He is, in manner, of the Beecher school, but with less ability, and impresses principally by his earnestness and the direct, practical nature of his ser- mons. People seem to be agreed that he is a sincere man, though his face, as it appears in the shop-windows, is any- thing but an agreeable one to look upon — ^being round and full, with round eyes, flat, flabby cheeks, a pug nose, and short lips, gaping apart to exhibit some very prominent front toeth. At a dinner-party one day I met with Layard, and King- lake, the author of " Eothen." The latter is a small, pale man, with blond hair and moustache, and bluish-gray eyes. His manner is quiet and subdued, and only a few would guess his concealed capacity for enthusiastic feeling and courageous action. He had just entered Parliament, and broke down shortly afterwards, in his first speech — but it was a failure which only stimulated his friends to believ e the more firmly in his future success. He is now writing a SUMMER GOSSIP FROM ENGLAND. 3^1 History of the Crimean War, all of which he saw, sharing its dangers with the same steady nerve which he opposed to the infection of the plague in Cairo. Layard is a man of forty, with a fi-ank, open, energetic face, clear gray eyes, and hair prematurely gray about the temples. He had just astonished the artistic world by some very remarkable researches which he had been making in Italy during the past two years. Taking Vasari as his guide, he set off upon the hunt of the lost frescoes of Giotto and other painters of the Pre-Raphaelite period, and brought back seven hundred tracings of works, the existence of which had been hitherto unknown. I heard Dickens read his " Christmas Carol " in St. Mar- tin's Hall, to an audience so crowded and enthusiastic as to surprise the London reporters, though its equal in both these respects is a veiy common sight in America. His reading of the dialogue was wonderfully fine, although in the narrative parts it had a smack of the stage, and a ten- dency to shrillness at the end of every phrase, which had a curious effect. Dickens is now in his forty-fifth year, and Time is beginning to tell upon his exuberant locks, but his eye has all its old keenness and sparkle. " Little Dorrit," ;hough acknowledged on all sides to be a great falling off from his previous stories, has had a more extensive sale than anything he has written — which proves the truth of a saying of old Sam. Rogers — that there is only one thing harder for a man to do than to write himself down, and that is, to write himself up, Thackeray, the noblest Roman of them all, was falsifying the charge? of the rampantly loyaj Canadian papers, bj 372 AT UOMB AND ABROAD, giving his lectures on the Four Georges in all parts of tne United Kingdom, and with the most gratifying success. It is cheering to see a man of his independence and honesty rewarded by such a sound and steady increase of popular espect and appreciation. I spent two fortunate days at Freshwater, on the Isle of Wight, the residence of Tennyson. In the scenery round about the poet's residence, I recognised many lines of " Maud." He lives in a charming spot, looking out on one side over the edges of the chalk cliffs, to ** the liquid azure bloom of a crescent of seSf The silent sapphire-spangled marriage-ring of the land,** and on the other, across the blue channel of the Soknt, to the far-off wavy line of the New Forest, on the northern horizon. Never shall I forget those golden hours spent with the noble poet and noble man, on the rolling windy downs above the sea, and under the shade of his own ilex and elm ! Buchanan Read, who had just come from Rome to fulfil some painter's engagements, took me one evening to visit Leigh Hunt — ^the sole surviving star of that constellation which dawned upon the literature of England with the present century. The old poet lives in a neat little cottage in Hammersmith, quite alone, since the recent death of his wife. That dainty grace, which is the chief charm of his poetry, yet lives in his person and manners. He is seventy- three years old, but the effects of age are only physical ; ihey have not touched that buoyant, joyous nature, which Borvives in spite of sonow and misfortune. His deep-fiet BUMAIEK GOSSIP FROM ENGLAND. 373 eyes still beam with a soft, cheerful, earnest light ; his voice is gentle and musical, and his hair, although almost silver- white, falls in fine, silky locks on both sides of his face. It was grateful to me to press the same palm which Keats and Shelley had so often clasped in friendly warmth, and to near him, who knew them so well, speak of them as long- lost companions. He has a curious collection of locks of the hair of poets, from Milton to Browning. That thin tuft of brown, silky fibres, could it really have been shorn from Milton's head? I asked myself. "Touch it," said Leigh Hunt, " and then you will have touched Milton's self." " There is a love in hair, though it be dead," said I, as I did so, repeating a line from Hunt's own sonnet on this lock. Shelley's hair was golden and very soft ; Keats's a bright brown, curling in large Bacchic rings ; Dr. Johnson's gray, with a harsh and wiry feel ; Dean Swift's both brown and gray, but finer, denoting a more sensitive organization ; and Charles Lamb's reddish brown, short and strong. I was delighted to hear Hunt speak of poema which he still designed to write, as if the age of verse should never cease with one in whom the faculty is born . XXXI. THE CASTLES OF THE GLEICHEN. TBEPTEMBEB, 1868.] No part of Germany is so rich, either in romantic legends or in picturesque historical associations, as that portion ol ancient Thdringia which is now parcelled into the Duchies of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, Saxe-Weimar, and Meiningen. The range of mountains, called the Thtiringerwald (Thtiringian Forest), the Wartburg with its memories of Luther and the Minnesingers, and the beautiful valleys of the Saale and the Ilm, have become not only storied, but classic ground ; yet, I venture to say, not more than one out of every hundred of the American travellers who visit Germany ever see more of this region than may be caught from the window of a railway carriage, bound from Frankfurt to Leipzig. To me, many of those spots are almost as famiUar aa the place of my nativity ; and for that very reason, perhap^^ THE CASTLES OP THE GLEICHEN. 375 I have passed them by unnoticed in former narratives of travel. Eastward fi-om Gotha, and about one-third of the distance between that city and Erfurt, three isolated peaks rise from the plain at the northern foot of the Thiiringian Mountains Each is crowned with a castle of the Middle Ages ; and the three, collectively, are known far and wide as die drei GUichen (The Three Similars), on account of the resemblance m their position and general appearance. I had seen these peaks almost daily during several months of residence ic Gotha, at different intervals — from the breezy top of the Seeberg, from the balcony over the beer-flowing streams of the Walkmiihle, and from every swell in the undulating landscape stretching away to the mountains. Sometimes the gray wall of the most northern of the three castles, rising over a conical pile of foliage, gleamed like gold in the setting sun, seeming to advance nearer and nearer as the day declined ; and again, ua the blue vapors of an autumn noon, it would recede far into the distance, as if passing into the sphere of another landscape beyond. So picturesque and suggestive were these objects, that I was satisfied to view them thus afar off, and felt even reluctant to destroy the fascinating uncertainty in which they lay by a nearer approach. One day in September, however, the charm was broken — or, as it proved in the end, intensified. The sunny sweetness and repose of early autumn proved too tempting. We felt an intense desire to explore some unknown region ; and as every other point within the range of our vision was exhausted, nothing was left but the Gleichen. Our party 876 AT UOMK AND ABKOAD. consisted of four — Russian, German, and American — mutually resolved to devote the day to pleasure, or to that something still better, which is partly expressed by the Italian, dolce far niente^ and wholly by the Arabic keyf^ but for which our impetuous Anglo-Saxon blood has neither name nor idea. I had learned the thing itself in the Orient, and my companions were all apt apprentices, at least. The day was just fitted for such an indulgence (very few days in our climate will answer), and under the seats in our easy open caleche were stowed a variety of necessary appliances — black bread, ham, herrings, Rhenish wine, pipes, and the like. Only in such style can you truly taste the flavor of the Past. Leaving the Seeberg on our lefl, we dipped down into a warm, rich hollow in the plain, in which stands the flourishing village of Wechmar. It had been devastated by fire a few days before, but the grape-vines still hugged the blackened fronts of the cottages, with their leaves scorched to ashes and their blue clusters dried into raisins. An hour's drive over the plain beyond brought us to two of the Gleichen, which take their names from the villages of Wandersleben and Mtihlberg, nestled at their respective bases. The peaks, which rise to the height of five or six hundred feet, are planted at the entrance of a valley about half a mile broad, through which wanders a bright little stream. To the south-east, three or four miles distant, rises the third, or Wachsenburg Gleichen, on a loftier, but less abrupt and picturesque eminence. Leaving our carriage at the foot of the Wandersleben Gleichen, we ascended by a spiral road, shaded with thicket! THE CASTLES OF THE GLBICHEN. 379 of hazel and wild plum. The top of the hill is encircled hy a moat, beyond which rise the old walls of inclosure. A massive portal on the northern side conducts to a spacious courtyard, now overgrown with turf, and shaded by the ruins of three different ages. The silence was undisturbed^ gave by the chirping of a few autumnal birds, and the rustle of a fox, which darted among the stones of a fallen wall, as we appeared. We chose the grassy foundation of an old bastion, on the sunny side of the hill, and inhaled the beauty of the landscape while Sebastian tottered up the winding path, with our baskets on his arms. The dismantled towers of the Mtihlberg Castle smiled grimly across the valley, saying to Wandersleben : "We are old, and ruined, and neglected, brother, but we still stand." Wachsenburg seemed to float in the thin vapors of the morning — the whole line of the Thtiringian Mountains filled the southern horizon, and the spires of Goth a in the west, and Erfurt in the east, marked the boundaries of the view. The indolent enjoyment of an hour's lounge on such a spot and at such a time, belongs exclusively to a land where indolence is permitted. The peasants, looking up at us from their turnip-fields, did not say or think : " What worthless loafers !" as many an American farmer would have done, but rather: "How pleasant it must be up there, this morning ! How fortunate they are Full before us, basking warm in the sunshine, was the estate of Field-Marshal von Muffling, the old campaigner of 1813 and 1815. "There," said one of my friends, "1 spent three years of my life, in charge of the old general's estate ; and many an hour have T stolen away to climb thv 878 AT HOME AND ABROAD. hill aud sit where we sit now. The western front of the castle was then almost in a habitable condition ; the roof was still standing, and the floors resting on heavy beams of wood, were entire. But, as the place was not visited foi weeks together, so many beams were sawed out and carried off by night, that the roof finally fell in, and the genera] was obliged to sell the remainder of the timber, in order to prevent it from being plundered. Superb timber it was, after a seasoning of two hundred years I Yonder, where the old chambers were, I experienced, one night, the greatest terror I ever felt in my life." "Oh, a ghost story!" we exclaimed, and our hair rose in delightful anticipation. For my part, knowing my friend to be as courageous as a grizzly bear, I was curious to hear by what means he could have been made to feel fear. " It was when I was living with the general," said he. " The jail at Gotha was broken one winter, and four or five prisoners made their escape. The whole Country was aroused, of course; they were sharply followed, and finally all were caught with the exception of one, the most desperate felon of them all. For weeks nothing was heard of him : but at last, through a Jew in Erfurt, it was dis- covered that he was hiding among these ruins. The gene- ral was apprised of the fact by the ofiicers who came to take him, and who called to obtain aid. One of the shep- herds attached to the estate, and myself, were detailed on this duty — ^not a pleasant one, I confess. The ofiicers, however, determined to wait until late at night, when they would be more sure to find the fox in his hole. " It was near midnight when we s^^arted. I was armed THE CASTLES 01 THE GLEICHEN. 37ft