Deposited by the --: Linonian and Brothers /Library LETTERS OF TRAVEL BY PHILLIPS BROOKS, k£' LATE BISHOP OF MASSACHUSETTS NEW YORK P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 31 West Twenty-third Street 1893 Copyright, 1893, By E. p. dutton & CO. All rights reserved. The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., V.S. A. Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton and Company. PEEEACE. These letters of travel of the late Bishop Brooks have been selected from his correspondence with mem bers of his family. They relate to two journeys, of more than a year in duration, taken in 1865-66 and in 1882-83 respectively, — the former when he was Rec tor of the Church of.the Holy Trinity, Philadelphia, the latter when he was Eector of Trinity Chureh, Boston, — and to shorter summer trips, generally of about three months in duration. The circumstances under which they were written are sufficiently evident from the letters, and call for little comment. Several of these series of letters Bishop Brooks regarded in the light of a record of his travels and experiences, and after his return reclaimed them, and found frequent enjoyment in the reminiscences of his journeys which they awakened. Further details of these same journeys and other letters relating to them will appear in the forthcoming Life of Bishop Brooks. But before that is given to the public, it seemed possible and desirable to put in shape these letters of travel, which give an important chapter of his life that was always of the greatest iv PREFACE. delight to him, and in which are represented many of his most striking personal characteristics. An interesting journey taken in 1887, which in cluded his attendance at the Queen's Jubilee Service and his last meeting with Robert Browning and Mat thew Arnold, as well as his second visit to Tenny son, is unmentioned, for the reason that he was accom panied on that journey by members of his family to whom the writing of those letters which should con tain the continuous record of the summer was commit ted. Eor the same reason, one letter alone appears in this collection to represent a journey made in 1890, when, in addition to a trip to Switzerland, he visited parts of England including Cornwall and Devonshire, which are associated with Kingsley's Westward Ho ! and also Andover, the name of which is so closely con nected with the life of the Phillips family La America. The letters retain the familiar character which be longed to them as being intended for the members of his own family. It wiU be seen that in no other form could they have been given to the public, and they are thus enabled to convey not only an interesting story of travel, but also something of that personal charm and ready wit and genial appreciation which those who were nearest to him loved so well. His warm remem brance of friends from whom he was absent wiU be evident in all these letters, and his nature will be seen in its sunniest and most playful mood, October, 1893. CONTENTS. PAGE FrasT Journey Abroad, 1865-1866 . ... 1 In the Tyrol and S-^itzerland, 1870 139 Summer in Northern Europe, 1872 ... 1.54 From London to Venice, 1874 172 England and the Continent, 1877 181 In Pahis, England, Scotland, and Ireland, 1880 . 187 A Year in Europe and India, 1882-1883 .... 191 England and Europe, 1885 325 Across the Continent to San Francisco, 1886 . "AS A Summer in Japan, 1889 355 Summer oe 1890 .374 Last Journey Abroad 376 LETTERS OF TRAYEL. FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD, 1865-1866. Steamer Scotia, Monday p. M., August 14, 1865. Deak Mother, — My first letter from abroad shall be to you. It will not be much of a letter, for nobody feels like doing anything on shipboard, and especially this afternoon, when the ship is roUiag worse than it has yet. We have had a splendid passage so far ; I have not been seasick for a moment since I came on board, and we are now more than half way across. Father and William gave you my biogra phy up to the moment of sailing. They came pretty near having to go to Europe themselves. The first days out were very smooth, and we were well used to the motion of the vessel before the rough sea began. There has been considerable seasickness aboard. We spend almost all the time on deck. I have scarcely been below except for meals and sleep. It is the nicest, laziest, and pleasantest life in the world. We breakfast at 8.30, lunch at 12, dine at 6, and sup at 7.30. There is the funniest collection of people here : English, French, Germans, Portuguese, Jews, and Secessionists ; lots of Southern people going i! FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. to foreign parts to hide their shame. I have made some very pleasant friends, especially a nice English family, whose son has been in our army. They live in Cheltenham, England, and have invited me to -nsit them. We had serviee yesterday ; the Captain (Judkins) read service and a sermon. It was quite interesting. I thought of you aU at home, and felt that you were praying for us. It is hard to count these things, though, for we have gained already two hours on you, and are getting farther and farther to the eastward all the time. We have not had the sensation of dan ger yet, except the last two nights, when it has been very foggy, and we have run along blowing our whistle almost aU the time, not knowing what ship or iceberg we might run into any minute. As yet all is safe. It is wonderful how fast the time goes here. The days have not dragged at all, though there is next to nothing to do. We read a little, and walk the decks, and look for ships, and the hours slip by delightfully. Father told you, I suppose, that the Langs were on board, I am burnt up as brown as a berry, and never was so well in my life. It is a splendid begin ning of my tour. How I would like to look in on you at home, or rather how I would like to have you all here ! You would enjoy it intensely. It would not be so agree able if one were sick, but everybody says the voyage has been most remarkable. I leave the next page to be filled up between here and Queenstown. DUBLIN. 3 Wednesday Moming, August 16. It is still beautiful and delightful. Just a week since we sailed, and the most splendid week I ever passed. Last night on deck, with a high wind, clear starlight overhead, and the phosphorescent water below, was glorious ! I shall be almost sorry to land, except for the nights, which are very disagreeable in these miserable little berths. My room-mate is an Englishman, just returning from a tour around the world. He is intelligent and civil, but I see very little of him. They say we shall be in at Queens town on Thursday night. I will mail this on board to-morrow, and then write again to you from Dublin, Thursday Morning, August 17. All has gone well, and we shall come upon the coast of Ireland to-night. To-morrow morning I go from Cork to Dublin, where I shall stay till over Sunday. Perhaps this letter will reach you a little earlier by being mailed on board, so I will close it here. You may consider our voyage as prosperously over, and me as safely into the Old World, No stranger ever got into it easier. When I write again, there will be moie incidents to record. Now I only ask you to thaiik God with me for my safe voyage. Give lots of love to all the household, beginning with father and going down to Trip, How I shall depend upon your letters at London, Your loving son, Phillips, Gresham Hotel, Sack-vtlle Street, Dublin, Friday Evening, August 18, 180.5. Dear William,^ — Safe in Dublin. Is n't it funny ? The Scotia arrived at Queensto-ma at four this morn- I His brother, -William G. Brooks. 4 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. ing, and we at once went ashore. I breakfasted at Queenstown, and then took the train for Cork, where I spent three hours wandering up and dovni the queer est city that was ever made. It is one universal Sea Street and Fort Hill, The source whence all the Bid dies and Patsies have flowed over the Atlantic was e-vident at once, and there are plenty more of the same sort to come. At twelve o'clock we took the train for Dublin, and rode aU the afternoon through the loveliest coimtry that ever was seen, — endless fields with their green hedges and rich crops, and men and women together harvesting them. I reached here at six o'clock, and got a room in Gresham's Hotel, a good hoiise which you wiU see marked upon the picture. It has been a perfect day, especially after the long confinement of the voyage. How strange it seems to be here ! The old to-wn, so far as I have seen it to-night, looks like Boston. To morrow I shall see the great Exhibition and all the lions, and call on one or two people to whom I have introductions. The Archbishop (Trench), I am sorry to hear, is out of to-wn. I shall stay here till over Sunday, and leave on Monday for Belfast and the Giant's Causeway ; but I only meant to say I am here safe, God bless you all ! Affectionately, Phillips, Jedb-ctkgh, Scotland, Wednesday p. M., August 30, 1865. Dear Father, — See if you can find this little place upon the map, and then picture one of the Brooks boys set down at the Spread Eagle Inn (the picture of a little English or Scotch inn), after an SCOTLAND. 5 English dinner, to teU his adventures to the family in the back parlor of 41 Chauncy Street, Boston. Let me show you how I got here. Get the big Atlas which we had out on the Sunday night before I left, and trace me on from point to point. The last time I wrote I was in Dublin. I spent two days there ; saw the great Exhibition (whose only very striking point is the collection of pictures), the college, and the other sights of the dingy old town, I spent Sunday there, and went to ser-vice at St. Patrick's Cathedral, where we had the whole cathedral service in its most splendid style. Sunday afternoon, having failed in town to see Archbishop Trench, whom I was most anxious to see of any man in Ireland, I went down to Bray, a watering place near Dublin, where I heard he was to officiate. I did not find him there, and so came back to Dublin ; whence I started the next morning and went by the way of Belfast up to Port Rush on the northern coast, where I spent Monday night. Tuesday, I drove over to the Giant's Causeway and inspected it thorougMy. It was most interesting, — more wonderful in its forma tion than I had imagined. Then back to BeKast, and on Tuesday night took a crazy little steainer, called the Lynx (about as big as the Nelly Baker, — not quite), for Glasgow, where contrary to all reasonable probabilities and amid aU sorts of discomforts we were landed for breakfast on Wednesday morning. Spent the day there. It is a fine city, and puts one right into the midst of " Rob Roy." Nichol Jarvie lived close by the hotel, and I was inclined to run over and congratulate the good bailie on his safe return from the Highlands. There is a fine old cathedral there, in whose crypt, you may remember, one of the finest 6 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. scenes in " Rob Roy " is laid. Thursday morning was clear and lovely, and I took the train early for the foot of Loch Lomond (BaUoch), and then the steamer up the lake ; it is a glorious sail, different from anything I know in America, and full of romantic interest ; then across by coach to Loch Katrine, and do-wn that beautiful lake by steamer. This is the one celebrated in the " Lady of the Lake," and you pass right by EUen's Isle. Then by coach through the Trossachs, a splendid mountain gorge, to Stirling, where I spent Thursday night ; saw the great castle and the old home of the Scottish kings. This brought me to Edinburgh on Friday morning. Of Edinburgh I cannot say enough. It is the queen of cities, the most romantic, picturesque, un-American, old-world to-wn that ever was. I have been there till to-day, and would like to have stayed a week longer ; its beauty is not forgettable, and its quaint sights are past all description. I went to church there on Sun day: in the morning to one of the plainest of all plain Scotch Presbyterian churches, where you sat on a board as -wide as three matches, and heard a sermon of an hour long; and in the afternoon to an Episcopal church, where the ser-vdce was intoned. How strange these old towns are! You do not think of them as belonging to these days. They seem to have done their work in the world, and handed it over to us, and crept under their glass cases where they are kept for shows. Still, let me say for Edin burgh that I found it practical enough to get there a traveling suit of fine Scotch tweed, for which I paid only five pounds, which is less than half what it would have cost me in America. Monday I went do-wn to Abbotsford and " Fair Melrose," It is like a dream SCOTLAND. 7 to see these places. Sir Walter, the splendid old fellow, seems to walk and talk -with you. It was the day I had been looking for, ever since I first read your old Lockhart's Life some fifteen years ago. It wUl always be -one of my memorable days. Yesterday I was at Roslyn Chapel and Hawthornden, both beautiful, the chapel a wonderful Uttle gem of sculp ture ; then back to Edinburgh in the afternoon and up Arthur's Seat, the famous hill which overlooks Edinburgh. I am on my way now to the English lakes, and have stopped here over night to see the old abbey, and a Scotch family to whom I have a letter of introduction. I have seen a good deal of Scotchmen, Their thrift and inteUigence demand respect, but they are cold. I spent the evening in Glasgow with the f amUy of a professor there, who all taUicd the broadest and most unintelligible Scotch. The professor insisted that Pennsylvania was a city, but was pretty weU informed about our war and politics, — an Abolitionist and a Northern man. I wish that you could see this queer little town. It is Scotland in a nutsheU. Thursday P. M. I was broken off here, and must close my letter hastily to make sure of Saturday's steamer. I am very weU, and enjoying everything very much indeed, as you can see. To-day I have spent about Jedburgh •with the Andersons, to whom I had a letter, and who prove to be very pleasant people. Sunday I expect to spend at Windermere on the lake ; after that I shaU begin to get towards London, reaching there in about ten days, . . . Love to everybody. How I should like to 8 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. see you all! I shaU depend on getting a letter at London. Your affectionate son, Phillips. Queen's Hotel, Manchester, Tuesday, September 5, 1865. Dear Mother, — My last letter was directed from Jedburgh, Scotland. This, as you see, comes from Manchester, I have reached England since I -wrote, and seen something of it already. From Jedburgh I went to Kelso and Berwick-on-Tweed ; thence to New castle-on-Tyne, and to Durham, where I spent a few hours and saw one of the greatest and best of the English cathedrals ; then to the little "viUage of Bar nard Castle, where I spent the night, and on to Win dermere in Westmoreland. My present enthusiasm is the EngUsh lakes. They are very beautiful. I walked from Windermere to Ambleside at the head of Lake Windermere, and spent Sunday there, a thorough English Sunday, I attended ser-vice in the parish church. At Ambleside, or rather close by, at Rydal, are the old homes of Wordsworth and Dr. Arnold, and a few miles off, at Grasmere, the homes of Hartley Coleridge and De Quincey. From there I went on Monday, by coach, through a splendid lake and mountain region, to Kes-wick on Derwentwater, where Southey lived and is buried, and then by raU via Lancaster to Manchester, where I arrived last night. Here I came across Americans again. I have seen three or four already from PhUadelphia. This hotel is one of the great resorts of Americans in Eng land. I am going to make one or two caUs here, and then shaU be off to York, YORK. 9 Wednesday Morning, September 6. I spent last evening at Mrs. GaskeU's. She is an authoress ; -wrote the Life of Charlotte Bronte and several novels ; a charming lady and most hospitable. I had a letter to her from Philadelphia. She knows all the literary people in England and told me a great deal about them. I met there a Mr. Winkworth, brother of the lady who did the " Lyra Germanica." He is the most inteUigent Englishman about our affairs that I have seen. This was the pleasantest meeting with English people that I have had. Mi-s. Gaskell promised me a letter to Ruskin, in London, with whom she is very intimate. York, Thursday Evening, September 7. You see I began this sheet aU wrong, and so you wiU have to make its order out by the dates. When I left off I was at Manchester. I left there yesterday forenoon, and reached here about two o'clock. Here, you know, is the greatest of the English cathedrals. I went all over it yesterday afternoon, and attended the evening ser-vice. The music was very fine. This morning I took the train early and have spent the day at Ripon, where there is another fine cathedral, and at Fountain Abbey, which is the oldest and most complete of the old monastic establisluueiits. I am back here to-night, and shaU start in the morning- for Lincoln, Ely, Cambridge, and so to London. I should like very much to stop at Boston, just for association's sake, and shaU, if I have time. York is, I suppose, the oldest city I have seen yet. Here we get our first sight of the old Romans, who had a splendid to-wn here, and whose old waU stUl remains. 10 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. I am afraid my letters sound very much like guide books. You must forgive me, but remember that I have nothing to -write except what I see and hear. You can see that I am going aU the time, and from morning to night. There has not yet been one stormy day, and I have enjoyed everything hugely. I have been weU aU the time. So far, I have seen hardly anything of Americans, for I have been off their routes. I have talked -with Englishmen in the trains and at the hotels, I had no idea tUl I came here what a tremendous American I was, I have n't seen a New York paper since I left. How I shall revel in aU your letters next week. Good-by, God bless you aU, Phillips, Golden Cross Hotel, Chasing Cross, London, Sunday Evening, September 10, 1865. Dear Father, — At last communication is re sumed. I arrived here yesterday, and found at Bar ings your noble, long letter, in which I reveled, I hope to get others to-morrow by the steamer which arrived yesterday. How good it was to get in sound of you again and hear the wheels in Chauncy Street moving on as smoothly and pleasantly as ever. By this time you are aU together again except Fred, and he wiU be there soon. How I wish that I could sit down with you ! My last I mailed at Lincoln. From there I went to Boston. How strange it seemed ! As we rode over the marshes (fens, they caU them here) that surround the to-wn, and saw the bricky mass rising before us, it was easy to believe that we were coming in over the Back Bay and would be with you at supper. It is a pretty little town of about 11,000 LONDON. 11 people. You walk up from the station tlirough Lincoln Street to the church, which is the principal object of the town. It is a fine old piece of architec ture. The sexton, who showed me through it, was very civU, especiaUy when I told him where I came from. The vicar was away, or I should have caUed on him. I left my card for him. The Cotton Chapel is a nice little room, well restored; you see it on the right, or south side of the church, in the exterior one of the -views that I send you. They stiU use the old John Cotton pulpit, but the sexton told me that they thought of getting a new one and giving the old relic to the American Boston. I went then to Peterborough, where I meant to spend the night and go to Cambridge the next day, but Peterborough was so full, owing to a great sheep-fair, that I could not find lodgings, and concluded to come right through to London and go to Cambridge by and by; so this is my second day in London. I am right in the centre of the City at the head of the Strand, close to Trafalgar Square and Westminster Abbey. It is a fascinating place, for there is not a step that is not full of association. I have seen Uttle yet in detail. To-morrow I begin. To-day I went to hear Spurgeon, and found myself in an immense crowd and rush. He is not graceful nor thoughtful nor imaginative, and preached a great deal too long, but he is earnest, simple, direct, and held the hosts of plain-looking people wonderfully. I believe with all his rudeness and narrowness and lack of higher powers that he is doing a good work here. 12 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. Thursday Evening, September 14. This must go into the mail to-morrow, so I shaU finish it to-night. Since Sunday I have been seeing London, and have been very busy. Let me see: Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, the Brit ish Museum, the Tower, the National Gallery, the Sydenham Crystal Palace, Regent's Park and its Zoological Gardens, the Tunnel, with lots of lesser sights, and the greatest sight of aU which one has always in wandering about the streets of this great Babel. To-day I took the steamer on the Thames, aU the way along past the City, and through its old bridges. Every rod here has some interest of its own. Yesterday I dined at Mr. Adams's at half past seven o'clock, a very pleasant dinner, and both Mr. and Mrs, Adams were very cordial and hospitable. Mrs. Adams was especiaUy fuU of inquiries about you and mother. Their son Henry, and daughter, and one or two others were there. On Monday I go down into Hampshire to -visit Mrs. Kemble. I have a very kind and pressing invitation from her. From there I shaU very probably keep on into the Isle of Wight. I do not know how to find time enough for England, especially for Lon don, as I must leave here by the 10th of October. I have left the hotel and gone into lodgings at Mrs. Dekker's, No. 1 A, Craven Street, Strand. It is a little cheaper and a great deal more comfortable. I was very much disappointed at not getting letters from any of you by the last steamer. I do hope the next will bring some. Don't forget me. I am so tired, to-night, as every night, that I can hardly write, so you must forgive the poorness of this letter. 1 think of you all and home constantly. TeU Fred to write. I have a letter from Franks, who HAMPSHIRE. 13 talked of going to Boston with him. I hope he did. God bless you aU. Affectionately, Phillips. Wabneord Cottage, Bishops-Waltham, Hampshire, Wednesday, September 20, 1865. Dear William, — To-day's letter must be to you. You certainly deserve it for the splendid long epistle which I received last Saturday, for which I cannot thank you enough. I am glad that you had so pleasant a visit at Trenton and Saratoga, and I en joyed your account of it exceedingly. Certainly, so far as mere natural beauty is concerned, I do not believe there is any need of one's leaving America. I am writing this before breakfast (they don't breakfast tiU half past nine) at the window of a little English cottage which looks out on as perfect an English scene as you can imagine. There is a piece of lawn like velvet in front, with gorgeous flower beds spotted over it ; then a hawthorn hedge shutting out from view a little winding lane, beyond which are the broad, smooth hiUs of Warnford Park, with splendid great trees grouped about over it, and tho HaU in the distance, which owns and rifles the whole estate. Is n't that English ? I am staying here with Mrs, Kemble, who occupies this little cottage close to the large estate of her brother-in-law. He owns the Hall, I came here on Monday, and have enjoyed my visit very much, Mrs. Kemble is, as I expected, very bright and interesting, very kind, hospitable, and cour teous. The family is only herself and one daughter, who is just as bright as her mother. Yesterday I drove out with Mrs, Kemble to Winchester, about twelve miles, where I saw the cathedral, in some 14 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. respects one of the finest in England, and called on one of the canons, to whom I had a letter from Bishop Mcllvaine, The drive there was very beau tiful, over the Downs, as they caU them, a soft roU ing country, spotted over with the sheep who are to supply the Southdown mutton, which you know is the great product of this part of England. To-day I shall leave here and go to the Isle of Wight, getting back to London on Friday, and then I shall get ready at once to go on the Continent. I find it is impossi ble at this time of year to see people or institutions in England to advantage ; so I propose to go to Ger many and the East a little earlier, and thus secure time in the spring to run over here when everything is in fuU blast and I can do it more satisfactorily. I have seen most of the " sights " of London. After I wrote to you I went to Hyde Park and the Kensing ton Museum, where is the best collection of modern English pictures, Eeynolds and Hogarth, and Wil kie and Leslie, etc. There is the original of the "Blind Fiddler" over the nursery mantelpiece at No. 41. The whole museum is very interesting. Mrs. GaskeU sent me a letter to Mr, Euskin, and I drove out to Denmark HiU, where he lives, to present it. He was not at home, so I only had the pleasure of seeing his house, but I shaU see him, I hope, by and by. The house is a veiy pretty subur ban mansion ; a fine picture of Turner's was over the mantelpiece. I saw a good deal of the Adamses, Mrs, and Miss Adams eame to my lodgings and left a card, " The Minister of the United States." Sun day I dined with them ; Smiday morning I went to the Foundlings' Chapel, where the children do some of the best chanting in London ; in the afternoon I BONN. 15 went to St. Paul*s Cathedral and heard a capital ser mon from MelviUe, who is oaUed one of the best preach ers in England. I caUed on Dean Milman with Mr, Winthrop's letter, and had a very pleasant visit. He lives in a curious old deanery close to the cathedral. My next wiU be dated somewhere the other side of the Channel, AU goes weU with me so far, as you see, I am in capital health and spirits. Just now I think of you all together at home ; how happy you must be. Do write to me every week, for steamer day is always looked for eagerly. It has been very hot here, but is cooler now, and England is the most beautiful thing you can conceive, Good-by. God bless you aU. Phill. Hotel Goldener Stern, Bonn, Monday, October 2, 1865. Dear Mother, — Is n't this a funny place from which to write you? I wish you could see it, you would think it funnier stiU ; but you would have to allow that it is very pretty. It stands on the Rhine just before you come to the Seven Mountains, where the beauty of the Rhine commences, and is one of those queer old German cities which we have always pictured and know so little about until we have seen them. But I might as well go back to where I was at my last writing, I told Fred to send you my letter from London, so I will begin there. On Tuesday morning I went by rail to Dover, and thence by boat to Ostend. Everybody expects to be seasick on the Channel, but I was disappointed. We had a four hours' sail, as quiet and gentle as if we were going down to Hmgham. It was most charming, and not a soul on 16 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. board suffered from the sea. We came up to the wharf at Ostend, and felt at once that we were in Europe, I brushed up my French and went ashore, passed the custom-house examination, and took train by Bruges to Ghent, a queer old town fuU of historic interest; from there to Brussels, a lively French towm. I found it right in the midst of its annual fete of national independence. The streets were iUuminated, fireworks everywhere, and people sitting at tables drinking beer in honor of independent Belgimn. I found aU the best hotels full, and was crowded into a poor one, and jabbered my French for the first time to waiters and chambermaids. I went from Brussels to see the field of Waterloo. Everybody does, though it was n't much of a battle by the side of Gettysburg and Antietam, They run an English maU-coach out there every day. Then I saw the Brussels streets and churches. From Brussels to Antwerp, a dear old city, full of Rubens's pictures and the quaintest old Flem ish houses and costumes. From Antwerp to Rotter dam, part by rail and part by steamer, up the Maas, through miles of dykes and windmiUs into my first Dutch towuo Such a language as they talked there ! I have n't half an idea what anybody said to me, I made a tolerable show of French and got along splen didly in German, but the Dutch was too much for me. I could only smile blandly and point what I thought was the nearest way to the next town. From Rotter dam to the Hague, a nice old place with canals instead of streets, and fine old pictures of Rembrandt and Rubens, and a lot of others; then to Amsterdam, where aU is canal and not street again, and the horrible Dutch tongue still. I went to the New Church (built in 1408) and heard them sing two BONN. 17 verses of a hymn in their language. That was enough, and I ran down the nearest canal to the English church and heard our o-wn dear liturgy and a sermon from the English chaplain instead. From Amsterdam to Diisseldorf, where the pictures come from and where many splendid ones are still, to Cologne, where the great unfinished cathedral is, at which they have been working six hundred years ; and from there, here. To-day, I have come into Germany, where they speak German and charge you for your dinner in thalers, I like the Germans much. I respect the Dutch, but I would not Uve among them for a million a year. To-day, too, I have come into the region of Romish churches and relics, I have seen the skuUs of the Three Wise Men, the thorns of Christ's Crown, the wood of the True Cross, one of the water pots of Cana of Galilee, the steps of Pilate's Judgment Seat, and a church lined with the skulls and bones of the eleven thousand martyred -virgins of Cologne. Of course you are expected to believe in them aU, and is n't that pretty weU for one day ? But the cathedral is very noble, by aU means one of the great sights of the world. That brings me to Bonn. From here trace me to Coblentz, Mayence, Heidelberg, Frankfort (where I have directed my letters to be sent and hope to hear from you), Leipsic, and Berlin, Am I not a lucky chap to see all tins? I am splendidly weU, and keep on the go all the time, and, as I said, am getting the hang of German enough to be quite at home with the people, I eschew all delicacies and rough it gen eraUy. Last night for the first time I found a feather bed for covering in my room. I kicked it off and slept like a top without it. The worst thing to me 18 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. about this traveling is that you can't drink water. Think of my misery. But it is too vUe to touch. However, we are now in the region of Hght Rhine -wines. For twelve and a half groschen (25 cents) you get a bottle of good -wine which answers pretty weU, but I would give a doUar for a pitcher of ice water to-night. AU living here is cheap, but in Hol land it is very dear and very poor indeed. I think I did right in coming alone, that is, as no very intimate friend offered, I find companions everywhere, and see much more of the people than if I were with a party of my o-wn. It costs a little more, because I have to pay aU fees, which are a great expense here for one, instead of di-viding them among a party. To-day I met a Philadelphian on the steps of Cologne cathedral, and last week I found a family of parishioners at the Hotel St. Antoine in Antwerp. My dearest mother, you cannot think how strange it seems to be writing in this little German inn, and knowing that you wiU read it in the old back par lor at home, where you have read my letters from Cambridge, Alexandria, and Philadelphia, Johnnie wiU bring it up from the post office some night, and Trip -wiU break out into one of his horrible concerts two or tliree times while you are readiag it. Then as soon as it is over, father wUl get out his big candle and you wiU put up the stockings, and aU go up the old stairway to the old chambers, and to bed. WeU, good night and pleasant dreams to you aU, and don't forget that I am off here wandering up and do-wn these old countries and thinking ever so much about you. At Frankfort, where I hope to be early next week, I shaU find your letters and have a talk with you again. CASSEL. 19 And now, good-night ; peace and every blessing be with you always, God bless you aU. Phillips. Cassel, Germany, Mgone remains of one of the greatest pictures of the world, Leonardo da Vinci's fresco of the Last Supper. Then to Turin 110 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. by a splendid road, close under the shadow of the Alps, with Monte Eosa and a hundred other white peaks looking at you all the way. Turin is a hand some town, but has not much to be seen except some good pictures. Then to Genoa, the city of palaces, splendid structures, with magnificent architecture and paintings. The whole situation of the to-vm, too, is very striking. There I took a steamer and sailed to MarseiUes. Good-by to Italy, and into the domains of Napoleon the Little ; red-legged soldiers and big gendarmes everywhere, Marseilles is a big city, but not very interesting, and I was soon off to Nimes, a French town as old as the Eoman erapire, and older. It has fine Eoraan remains, another amphitheatre, temples, etc. From there to Avignon, the place where the Popes ran in the fourteenth century, when they had to clear out of Eome, and the dearest, French iest of old towns. The old Papal castle, a grim, thick- walled great affair, is now a barrack for soldiers. From here I go to-morrow to Lyons, and the next day to Paris, where you may think of rae when you get this. There is this bit of my biography which you must fiU out with ever so much enjoyment every day, and be thankful for, as I am. I received letters from you at Venice to March 23. I am depending much on getting some more at Paris. You are all as good as can be about writing. I will try to pay you up when any of you come to Europe. Meanwhile, forgive my shortcomings. I see papers now more frequently ; I am so glad that Congress has passed the Civil Eights Bill. Let them go on and do their duty, firmly, but without passion or exaspera tion, and all will be weU in spite of Johnson. AU Europe is wondering whether there is going to be PARIS. Ill war. Italy was in great excitement, and is longing for Venetia, which she ought to have. My opinion is not worth anything, for Bismarck has n't sent me word. But I believe the storm will blow over. I expect to meet Strong in Paris in the course of a week. How long our plans -wiU run together, I cannot teU till we meet. Only four or five months more, and I am with you. It wiU be a glad day. A million thanks for all your goodness in writing. You do not know how glad I am to get letters. No end of love to you all, Phillips. Paris, May 9, 1866. Dear William, — I have been in Paris now a week, and a busy week in Paris -wiU let you know a good deal about the city. I have loafed in it from one end to the other, and have seen the bigger part of what is worth seeing in the town itself. Under these circumstances, I feel justified in deliberately asserting, and you may repeat it if you wish, on my authority, that Paris is considerable of a place. It is a great change from most of my other traveUng, after Syrian tents, and Greek inns, and Italians albergos, and steamboat berths, to settle quietly dowTi in this luxu rious hotel, dine at nice restaurants, and walk all day on these bitumen sidewalks, which are the luxury of pedestrianism. I am glad I came here last. It is a better place to end than to begin with. Paris, you know, is almost a new city. There is very little reaUy ancient or mediaeval left; even the me morials of its revolutionary days are hard to find. Everytliing is splendid with the lavish outlays of Napoleon III. I saw him and Mrs. Eugenie driving in the Champs Elysees the other day, and the little 112 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. prince, who is said to be reaUy a very remarkable boy, I saw driving into the Tuileries on Sunday. Paris is fuU of aU sorts of people. Every day somebody turns up that I have kno-wn or heard of. I Uke it very weU for a little wliUe. I don't know how long I shall stay here. I have some little thought of going over to London on Monday to see the very English sight of the Derby Day. I have also urgent letters from the Freedmen's friends there, who are going to have a public meeting some tirae this raonth. If I go, I shall stay in England about six weeks, and get a week or two more here be fore I go into S-witzerland. Father's and mother's letters by the Asia, of April 25, turned up to-day. That seems like being very near home. Tell thera not to worry about the cholera. I shaU keep as clear as possible of any places where it may show itself. I am delighted to hear that you are all weU at home. Nothing but the war is talked of now. Things certainly look very belligerent. I did Venice just in time. Nobody is allowed to go there now. By the way, our friend Mr. Ward is in London, and one of the active Freedmen's raen. . . . What an exceedingly disagreeable creature our chief magistrate is ! I always take up a new paper now, sure that there -wiU be another of those abominable vulgar speeches, and they are so weak and bad. If they had any strength in them, we could stand their -VTilgarity, Well, he can last only three years longer, and meanwhile everybody must work against him, as as they did against our other enemies. This is not much of a letter to write from Paris, but perhaps next week I wiU give you a stunner about LONDON. 113 the Derby Day. Paris you must come and see for yourself. It 's such an odd, splendid jumble that it can't be written about satisfactorily. However, I am well and happy, and you raust take that for the burden of this letter. Affectionately, Phill. London, Albemarle Hotel, May 18, 1866. Dear Mother, — I write in great haste this morning, because I do not want this week's mail to go without some indication of me. I am in London again and very weU, that is about aU that I have time to say. I left Paris behind rae on Tuesday raorning, and crossed the Channel by way of Boulogne and Folke stone. With my usual luck, I had a bright, smooth day, and none of those disagreeable scenes which are often witnessed on board the Channel boats. I found London very full indeed, and only just suc ceeded in getting a room. Wednesday I went to the Derby Day. It is one of the great characteristic Eng lish sights ; all the city of London shuts up shop, and goes out twenty miles into the country to Epsora, to see which of two horses will run the fastest. The ex cited look of the city, the stream of people of aU ranks and sorts going out, the hosts who cover the grounds, the exciteraent of the race itseU, and then the return to town at night, let you see one sort of English life as you cannot weU see it anywhere else. The Prince of Wales was out there, and so was I. This is the big thing that I have done in London this week. Besides this, I have been seeing the great city over again, and picking up new impressions of it. When I was here before, it was deserted ; now it is 114 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. crowded, and every excitement and fashion is at its height. You cannot think how strange it seems to get back into English ways, and in sound of our own lan guage. Why, the very boys in the streets speak Eng lish ! It seems like getting very near home again, and if it were not that I am to put off into foreign parts again by and by, I should feel as if my travelings were almost over, I hope to stay in England now tiU the end of next month. The country is not looking its best yet, though it is very beautiful. It seems as if you could not cut out a square mile anywhere from this England without getting a gem of a garden or a park. About the Freedmen's business, of which I have feared that I should have a good deal when I reached here, I think I shaU escape it almost altogether. The great financial crisis has interfered with their plans, and no meetings will be held. I am going to a private meeting of a Mr. Kinnaird, M. P., this evening, , , . I caUed at the Adamses yesterday and saw Mr. Adaras ; Mrs. Adaras was out. I shaU see more of them, no doubt, by and by. Strong met me in Paris and came on to London, and is now with me. I was delighted to see him and to hear about you all. Four months raore and I am with you. Until that happy day, I am always affectionately, Phillips, Albemarle Hotel, London, May 26. Dear Mother, — I must not let to-day's steamer go without a line to say that I am well, I am stUl in London, though I expect to leave for the country some time next week. I have promised to speak at a LONDON. 115 meeting at Birmingham, June 12, that wUl be my only public performance in England. Yours and father's and Arthur's reached me last Monday, and were most welcome. TeU Mr. Arthur to do it again, if he can. London is fuU to the brim, and the weather is glorious. Every day has been very busy, seeing the endless sights. One day I went down to Canterbury, and spent the whole day at the cathedral and other old buildings there. It is a glorious place ; next week I hope to get to Cambridge, and as soon as pos sible to Oxford. Your cousins the Adamses are well and very hospi table, and inquire all about you. To-day the Scotia is in, and I hope she has sorae letters for me. She brings news of another veto of our precious President. English people think he is a great raan. Strong is with me, and wiU be, probably, most of the summer. It makes it very pleasant. It looks now a little more as if they were going to get over the crisis in Europe without rauch fighting, but a little raatch raay set the whole pile of corabustibles off at any moment. This aU makes it raore fortunate that I came just when I did, and got through. No cholera anywhere, and don't worry about S-witzerland. Lots of love to aU, Affectionately, Phillips, Univbrsity Arms, Cambridge, M,ay 29, 1866. Dear Feed,^ — I am in our Alma INIater's Mater. There is sometliing charmingly horaelike and farailiar in old Cambridge. Outwardly miattractive by situa tion, but very lovely with old Gothic courts and build- ' His brother, Rev. Frederick Broolcs. 116 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. ings, and all the beauty of noble old trees, perfect lawns, and blossomy hawthorns. The pretty Cam covered with college boats, the streets fuU of college faces and raanners that might have been transplanted from the dear old banks of the Charles. The students seem to me very like indeed to Harvard boys, — the same average of age, the same general bearing, the sarae sort of talk. If anything especiaUy gives thera an advantage over us, it seems to be in the University system, the grouping of colleges so as to create a friendly corporate as weU as personal rivalry, and the presence among them of older and mature scholars, residing on fellowships, etc., who raise the scholarly standards of the place higher than they could be set by mere undergraduate attainment. Both of these advantages, I think, are capable of being engrafted on our system, and if they ever are, I see no reason why, in time, our greater freedom from old prescriptions ancl restraints should not make our University a better place than this. The beauty of the college grounds, their homey seclusion, and perfect vistas are past describing. Oxford, of course, sur passes Carabridge in aU this, but Carabridge is a con tinual delight. I only arrived to-day, but hope to stay a day or two, and see much more of the University Ufe. From here I am going on a little trip to Peterborough, Ely, Nor- -wich, and some other towns in this part of England. It is the season of seasons for its beauty. The Phillipses (this for father) came, I believe, from Eayn- ham in Norfolk, or near it. You remember the ori ginal George, who came over and preached under a tree in Watertown, and died of an unfortunate colic. Don't you ? Perhaps I have got thera a little raixed CAMBRIDGE. Ill up, but all those facts were araong the household words of our childhood. , , , As to ray tirae in London, it was very full, but of a lot of things that you can get from the guide-books about as weU as from me. I like London iraraensely. Last night I spent at the House of Coraraons. It was one of the great nights of the Eeform Bill. By the kindness of Mr. Forster, I got admission to the Speak er's gallery. The best raen on both sides spoke : Glad stone, calm, cool, clear, and courteous ; Disraeli, jerky, spiteful, personal, very telling ; Bright, honest, solid, indigiiant with the sraall trickery and raeanness of the opposition ; Mill, who holds people by sheer power of thought, as I have hardly ever seen any raan do ; Whiteside, Grey, and others. The governraent was defeated on a side issue by the raanoeuvring of the opposition, and the weakness of sorae of tlwdr own men. As to the look of the House, it certainly sur prises one, who has heard their endless abuse of our legislative assemblies, which of course are bad enough. There was no such brutal outbreak as soraetimes dis graces our noble ri-presentatives, but for constant and bitter personality, in place of arguraent, for boisterous and unmannerly carrying-on generally, AVashington cannot beat them. In the middle of the evening, I dined with Mr. Forster and Mr. Bright, and had our great English friend pretty much to raysidf for two hours. He is a great talker, especiaUy when he gets on to Araerica, and he knows what he is talking about. Both he and Forster are friends worth having. Bright personally wins you in a minute by the frankness and cordialness and manliness of his greeting. Hughes, I saw, but not for any talk. The Eeform BiU, little as it attempts, seems bound to fail. 118 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. One word about Venice. If I did not expatiate, it was not because I did not enjoy it immensely. It is all that your fancy ever painted. Some day I wiU teU you about it. Many thanks for your photograph. It is capital, the very boy I used to see, lazily stretching his length in my chair in Spruce Street. Strong wants me to remember him very kindly to you. We are having a great time. The new rector of the Trinity parish in Boston is to join us for Switzer land this suramer. I wish you were to be the fourth. I am to speak at a breakfast and public meeting in Birmingham for the freedmen. Probably I shaU not have time to write to Boston this week, so either send them this letter, or let them know that I am weU, Be sure I shaU think of you ever so much on your ordination day, God bless you. Phill, Albemarle Hotel, London, June 8, 1866. Dear William, — There will be another very short and unsatisfactory letter, I am afraid, to-night. The fact is, I can tell you about London by and by a great deal better than I can write it, so we will put it off until I get home, which, by the way, wiU be on the 25th of September, I am to sail in the good steamer Ville de Paris, from Brest for New York, on the 15th of September, and sliaU be -with you in ten days from that time. Does n't that sound near ? I prefer the French steamers to the English, and this particular one is unsurpassed by any boat on the Atlantic. Look out for her. To-day I have been to one of the great London sights of the year, the Charity Scholars' Festival, under the LONDON. 119 dome of St. Paul's, four thousand little wanderers gathered together and singing in chorus. I never heard anything so teUing, the great building rang with their voices. A bishop preached the sermon. After the performance I had the pleasure of lunching with Dean Milman, a charming old gentleman. Do you not reraember his " Belshazzar," that Diramock used to spout ? This evening I have .spent with Browning, at the Storys' rooms (they have just come to London). He (Browning) was one of the men I wanted most to see here, a pleasant gentleman, fuU of talk about London and London people, with not a bit of the poet about him externally. Last Monday I went to Eton, to their great annual festival. Do you remember Eton Montem in the " Parents' Assistant " ? It was a fine day, and the coun try was looking very beautiful. And I saw the great est of the great English schools at its best. I wrote last week to Fred from Cambridge. I con tinued my trip to Peterborough, Ely, and Nor-wich, and enjoyed iraraensely the great cathedrals of all the towns and the perfect English country. Strong has left rae for a week or two to go to northern England, to see some places which I -visited last faU. I am go ing in a day or two, and shaU be at Birmingham for a Freedmen's meeting, on the 12th ; at Oxford for the great Commemoration on the 13tli, and then keep west. Meet Strong again at Chester, take a nm through Wales, and the southern part of England, and get back to London about the first of Jidy, and then be off to Switzerland with your rector. An "Advertiser" to-night with Seward's speech. So good-by ; engage Eobin for September 26. I am very well. Lots of love to all. Good-night. Phill. b 120 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. Warwick Arms, Warwick, Jime 14. Dear Father, — If a letter is going to you at home this week, it raust be -written to-night, and yet I confess I don't feel much like writing it. I have just reached here, am very tired, and the waiter is thinking of bringing me some dinner. Until it coraes, I wiU try to talk to you, and you must not be surprised if you find me stupid. When I woke up this morning, I found myself in Stratford-on-Avon, where I faintly remembered arri-ving late last night ; I arose as soon as I realized where I was, and took a walk before breakfast across the nicest and quaintest of English fields, to see the old farmhouse where Shakespeare made love, where Anne Hathaway used to live. The old cottage stands without an alteration, ancl is a charming little place. Then I came back to breakfast, and after that was over, went off to see the rest, — the birthplace, schoolhouse, burial-place, and aU that belongs to the poet's life here, which we know very well by pictures that we have seen all our lives. Nothing in England, I think, has a stronger charm than this queer old towm. About noon, I took the train for Warwick, but, finding I was too late to see the castle to-day, I looked at the church with its monuments, the finest, best preserved in aU England, and then drove across the loveliest of comitry, stop ping at Guy's Cliff, where the earliest of the Warwicks, the hero of the fairy stories, used to put up (and he had a splendid place of it), to Kenil worth, where I spent the whole afternoon among the ruins, and such an afternoon as you -wiU never know anything about till you come over and do just the same thing. By the way, are you not making up your mind to come over to the great Paris fair of WARWICK. 1-21 next year? It is time for you and mother to be thinking about it. Then I came down to Leam ington, and spent an hour or two in the park of an English watering-place, and finally took the train back to Warwick, where I ara waiting to see the noblest castle in England to-morrow morning. That is what I have done to-day. Yesterday I spent at Oxford ; it was Coraraeraoration, which is their Com raencement, a strange sight, — perfect wild license of the students, and the freest Uberty to chaff, and hoot, and cheer as they please. It was a picture that is not to be seen anywhere else. The day before that, I was in Birmingham, telling Britons that they had been slaves to prejudice and self-interest about Araerica. The day before that, I was at Blenheim, the great palace of Marlborough. Do you remember Air. Everett's splendid description of it in his Washington address ? The two days before that, I was in Oxford (Saturday and Sunday) enjoying the raost iJcrfect coUege landscapes, and some of the kindest hospitality in the world. That takes me back about to my last letter, and accounts j^retty fully for my week. I did not get yours of last week; they, are waiting for rae at Chester, where I shall call for thera on Monday, on ray way into AVales. I hope you arc all weU. The Fenians seem to be lestless again ; I hope we shall put them down with their nonsense. And why do you not either try Jeff Davis, or let hira go ? It would be a great relief to foreign travelers. Before you get this, the great war will probably have begun over here, and promises to be terrible. Three months from to-morrow I sail for you aU. Good-by. God bless you always. Affectionately, Phillips. 122 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. The Goat Hotel, Beddgelert, Wales, June 20, 1866. Dear Mother, — I am thinking that to-day is Fred's ordination day, and that you and father are in PhUadelphia. Am I right? How I wish I could be with you, I wonder where the ordination is ? I hope in my old church. It would always be a very pleasant thing to think of his ha-ving been ordained there ; wherever it is, I wish him with aU my heart every blessing and success in his ministry. Of course, you wUl wrrite me about it at once. I am in Wales. Get your map and find this little vaUey where we have hauled up in the rain. It lies at the foot of Snowdon, shut in by grand, bleak Welsh hiUs, with a little brawling picturesque Welsh stream tumbling among them. It is the place, you know, of the old murder of the faithful hound by his master, Llewellyn. Gelert's grave is in the garden of the hotel. My -views of Wales are much like Jonah's, very wet; it has rained, off and on, pretty much aU day, while we (Strong and I) have been driving first by coach to Llanberis from Caernarvon, and then from Llanberis here by post. Caernarvon is on the coast, with a noble i-vy-gro-wn castle of early tiraes, where the first Prince of Wales was born. The people talk an unintelligible gibberish without vowels, and the women wear shabby hats, and aU looks quaint, quiet, and thrifty. The road thence to Llanberis is very beautiful, and Llanberis itself nobly situated at the entrance of a pass, and inter esting with its pretty waterfalls, and a most pictur esque tower of the sixth century. It has vast quarries of slate. The schoolboys and the house roofs bid fair to be kept supplied for years to come. From Lian- WALES. 123 beris to Beddgelert the scenery is glorious. The wildest pass, with tremendous cliffs, countless water falls, ivied cottages, and quaint, odd-looking people everywhere. Wales delights one with its grandness and majesty, as unlike sunny England as can be. I think I wrote you last week from AA'arwick ; thence I traveled to Eugby, and saw the old school, and aU that reminds one of Dr. Arnold, its great master. The boys were at a cricket raatch in the close, and aU looked just as it ought. Then to Coventry, where are sorae of the greatest churches and quaintest houses in England, and " Peeping Tom," stiU looking out of a hole of a corner house, in perpetual effigy. Then to Chatsworth, the noblest private residence in England, the seat of the Duke of Devonshire, and near it Haddon HaU, a perfectly kept specimen of the old baronial haU, the best in the kingdoni ; then to Litchfield, where I spent Sunday. A beautiful cathedral, a lovely country, and much of interest in connection with Dr. Jolmson's birth in the town, and its previous active part in the Civil Wars. Monday to Chester, where I was rejoined by Strong, and met Potter (your rector), who joined us the next day to Conway, where is a great old t-astle, and then to Bangor and the wonderful tubular bridge over the Menai Straits ; then rail to C\iernai'von, which brings my story c(unplete. Potter left us to-day to push direct to London, where he will join us in a couple of weeks to start for the Continent. He is very \\'ell, and seeras fuU of hope about Trinity. I think it very likely that we may return together. So you see I jog on. Every day is full of new pleasure, and every day bringing rae nearer and nearer horae. I have begun to count the weeks ; only fourteen raore. 124 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. and I ara with you. Won't it be nice ? This terrible war, which has begun now, wiU perhaps interfere -with sorae of my summer plans. But that wiU be the least of its evils, and I wiU not complain. I have been very fortunate, and have seen, it may be, more than I can digest. I foimd letters from you at Chester, but now shaU get no raore tiU I reach London, ten days hence, which is hard. I hear from Philadelphia that all goes well, but I want to be there more than I am wanted. I had a letter frora Dr. Vinton a week or two ago. How I wish I could get into the back parlor to-night, and I would tell you a great deal raore about this splendid Wales. Good-by, and love to all, I am very weU, and always your lo-ving son, Phillips, Albemarle Hotel, London, June 29, 1866. Dear William, — Last week's letter was sent from the heart of Wales, the foot of Snowdon, This is from the raetropolis again, so I spin along. During the week I have seen and done a good deal. We climbed to the " Tip Top House " of Snowdon, and so began in a mild way our smnmer's raountaining. The climb does not amount to much. The view is one of the noblest I know, with infinite variety of hill, valley, and lake, and the sea in the distance. Then we took a long ride through most perfect scenery from Beddgelert to Port Madoc, down the coast to Bar mouth, and thence to Dolgelly. This last stage, from Barmouth to Dolgelly, is the finest bit in Wales, and can hardly be surpassed anywhere. You must take it when you come abroad. LONDON. 125 From Dolgelly we came across the country to Shrews bury, then do-wn to Hereford, where there is a fine old cathedral, on to Eoss, and thence by a most beautiful ride down the vaUey of the Wye to Monmouth, where we spent Sunday, a pretty and deadly quiet little village. Keeping still down the Wye to Chepstowe, we passed Tintern Abbey, the raost beautiful monastic ruin in England. You cannot conceive how lovely it is, with its exquisite arches, perfect windows, and immense raasses of rich ivy, Chepstowe to Gloucester, Worcester, Bristol, Wells, all interesting towns, with historical associations, fine old Ijuildings, and delightful scenery. Then to Salisbury, ancl there I saw what is to me the most irapressive thing by far in aU England, Stonehenge, the old Briton temple out on Salisbury plain, A drive of eight miles frora the town, over the green, flat plain, got us there just before dusk, and we saw the gigantic ruin looking its lordliest. There was something very grand and absolutely refreshing in those enormous rude, gray stones, the symbols of old strength, and -will, and worship. I would rather raiss seeing anything else in England than Stone henge. From Salisbury to Southarapton, and thcnct^ to Winchester, which is fuU of interest, and then back to sraoky, dingy, grand old London. The whole trip has been delightful, weather fine, except one or two days, and the scenery looking its best. Now I have done with England, and shaU start Monday raorning for Paris again, and by next week's end be in Switzerland. I found letters here from you, for which no end of thanks. You don't know how much I enjoy them. Next Monday is your birthday. All hail to you, O thirty-two! 126 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. I met your friend, Mrs. Walter Baker, in Wales, Tell father and mother I want to know all about the ordination. Good-by, and in three months more I am with you. Love to all. Your affectionate brother, Phill, Strasburg, July 7, 1866. Dear Mother, — I have an hour or two on my hands, and will begin my next week's letter. I am on the wing again, you see, and set for Switzerland. Yesterday I was at Rheims, one of the most interesting towns of France, where all the old kings used to be crowned, and where a good many of them are buried. Its cathedral is a wonderful thing of the richest and noblest Gothic. There are old Roman remains in the town, too. These Romans are everywhere. Then I came on here. I wish you could see Strasburg ; you could hardly find a better speciraen of an old towm, half French, liaU German, than this is. It is strange to hear them talking German once raore. It seems like last autumn over again. This aftemoon I am going to Baden-Baden, the great watering and gaming place. There I shall spend Sunday. Thanks to the submission of Austria, it seems now as if the whole Continent would be open enough to travel. Is n't the news good ? All France is wa-ving with flags for the glory that has come to her in the business. Italy wiU be the best monument that Louis Napoleon will leave behind him, and it will cover many of his raisdeeds, I should like to be in Venetia now, and see their re joicings. Basle, Tuesday, July 10. I had a day or two in Baden-Baden, and then came on as far as here, where my tour of Switzerland BASLE. 127 really begins. I enjoyed Baden very rauch indeed. Its situation is most beautiful, and evei-ything just now is looking its best. The great gambling-place is not quite as fuU as usual this year. The war has kept some away, but there is plenty of gayety there, and the tables are going from raorning until night, Sunday morning, just after breakfast, I saw them at it, and I did not sit up late enough to see the end. The walks and drives through the country about Baden are charming. No wonder it is a place of such attraction. I came from there here. This is a quiet little town, with the usual old cathedral and a picture gallery, and the Rhine running through it. There is nothing particularly interesting about it. I ara waiting only till this afternoon for Strong, whora I left in Paris, and who will probably overtake rae here. . . , It is getting quite warm, and no doubt we shall suffer enough from the heat in sorae parts of Switzer land ; but there are always the mountains to retreat to, and with a glacier close at hand one ought to be able to get along. I hope you are counting the time as closely as I am to my getting home. Only twelve weeks raore, and there I am. How you will miss the chance of writing rae a letter every week, and what a saving there will be in postage ! I am hoping to hear, when I get to Geneva, of Fred's ordination, and perhaps of his settlement somewhere. I hope he will not be in a hurry to decide where to go. There is so much to do everywhere that he can have his choice, and it wiU be a great deal better if he waits till fall. I am glad you have had a journey. I hope you went to AA'^est Point and Niagara. I depend on hear ing all about it. Next year you and father raust 128 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. come over to the Great Exposition. Now good-by for another week. Love to all. Most affectionately, Phillips, Chamounix, Tuesday Evening, July 17, 1866. Dear William, — I write to you to-night from the foot of Mont Blanc. I do not in the least expect the letter to be worthy of the place, but here I ara in the Hotel Royal. Early this morning, George Strong and I left Geneva (about which I will not teU you anything, except that the lake is one of the love Uest things on the earth), in the back boot of a big lumbering diligence, with five horses, and set our faces towards the Alps. For five broiling hours the comitry was tame and duU, and nothing seemed to foretell Switzerland, except the increasing number of horrid- looking people with goitres on their necks, who came with idiotic grins to beg by the coach side. About noon, the hills began to gather round us, an occa sional snow patch was seen up among the clouds, now and then a waterfall came hurling itself do-vm, and saying soraething in the Alpine tongue, which we had n't yet learned to understand. At one o'clock (I want to be exact about such an important moment in my life), we drove into the little "viUage of St. Martin, and, turning suddenly to cross the gray, smaU river Arve, which had been brawling at our side aU the way, the driver puUecl up his five horses, and there was Mont Blanc, as vast, and grand, and white as one has dreamed of it, twelve miles off, they said, though it raight as weU have been twelve hundred, it seemed so unapproachable and far away, although we saw its whole outline, and the ridges in its snow, and the great black needles standing up out of the CHAMOUNIX. 129 white distinctly. WeU, we had a pretty good lunch at the town on the other side of the bridge, caUed SaUanches, and then, leaving our diligence behind, took sniall carriages and started for Charaounix, It was awfully hot. Our brains sizzled and stearaed. I have been as hot only once or twice ; never hotter. And the snow peaks were looking do-wn, and making cool fun of us aU the time. By and by, we came to a steep hill, and had to get out and climb three miles. When we reached the top, Mont Blanc was nearer and plainer, and we could see the great glaciers run ning do-wn the sides, and almost catch the sparkle of the intense white snow on top. Then the heat broke up in rain, and it poured down, first in gTcat big Al pine drops, and then in sheets, for the next two or three miles. When this was over, a great i-ainbow carae, tied itself like a sash on the white shoulder of the ridge, and fell down across its white robe to its feet. We entered the valley of Charaounix, passed along by the foot of the Glacier des Boissons, saw the Mer de Glace in the distance, crossed a lot of bois terous little strearas, that came down just fresh frora the great calra snow, rattled over a bridge across the Arve again, and were in the -viUage ; secured rooms in a sort of supplement to the hotel, which is caUed the Crystal Palace, and found oiu'selves just in time for the six o'clock table d'hote. Chamouni.x as a village is principaUy three great hotels, wdth no end of little ones. AU the other houses are connected in sorae way with Alpine tourists. It is safe to ask at any house for an alpenstock. The general appearance of the town rerainds me of Gorham, only there is n't a railway, and tliei-e 130 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. is Mont Blanc. It is raining guns to-night, but my pair of big shoes, with nails in the soles, are out already for to-raorrow. Meanwhile, a flash of Ught ning every now and then cuts across a gap, through which you can look at the snow, that has laughed at some thousands and thousands of rain-storms. There, young man, sometimes you complain that I don't teU you what I am doing. Look at that ! I flatter myself nobody ever made more out of a day's ride than that ; certainly you wUl know at least how I got from Geneva to Chamounix. At Geneva, I found letters, all whose burden was the great Philadelphia -visit. One from you, one from father, one from Mr. Coffin, and a little slip from Fred. I am rejoiced that aU went off so weU, and now I depend upon hearing about the new Reverend's future plans. Four months from to-day I shaU be on the ocean. The Ville de Paris made a passage of nine days lately, so I think you and Robin may look for rae on the 26th. Now good-by. Glory, glory, gloriation ! ten more weeks before vacation. • . . Phill. Giessbach, Switzerland, August 5, 1866. Dear Mother, — To-day, I am up here in the woods, with the faraous FaUs of Giessbach tumbling and roaring in front of my -windows, spending Sun day in what, if it were not for the great hotel, would be the most retired nook of aU creation. At Interlaken, the other day, I received three weeks' accumulation of letters ; a good feast after a long starvation. I must defer aU accounts of my o-wn minor travels to congratulate you on the great achievement of your Niagara. I am very thankful GIESSBACH. 131 that you have been there. It is certainly the greatest wonder of Nature, which remark has been made about it before, perhaps, but I want to assure your complacency by letting you be confident that the Old World has nothing to show that wiU compare with it. Mont Blanc is pretty grand, and there is no reason why you should not see that, too, some da\-, but for the present you may rest weU satisfied with Niagara. It seems lucky, with such a houseful as you have had, that one of the boys was safely out of the way in Europe. , . , This last week, I have been seeing the wonders and the beauties of the Bernese Oberland, as it is called, that part of Switzeiland wliieh Ues about the lake of Thun. Then from Macugnaga, where I wrote last Sunday, I came do-wn the valley of Anzasca to Domo d' Ossola, then over the gieat Simplon Road to Brieg, over the Gerarai Pass to Thun, down the lake of Lucerne, ovei- the raountains, close to the splendid Jungfrau to Meyringen, and from there to this mountain side on the lake of Brienz. It has aU been splendid. The beauty of Switzerland is, that it has no duU places, and one is never tired, only sometimes be-vsdldered a little with its endless attractions. Strong and I are still together. The great interest of your letters was what you told me of Fred's beginnings in the good work. Everything seems to be going splendidly with hira, as everybody knew it would. I hear indirectly from paidshioners, whom I meet here, of how great is the impression that he made in Philadelj^hia. I hope he wiU not be in such a hurry to settle far away, but that I sliaU see hira somewhere in September. This is a poor letter, stiU I am no less your loving 132 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. son, and wiU teU you so by word of mouth in seven weeks and a haU. Good-by, love to aU. Phillips. Arona, Lago Maggiore, Sunday, August 12, 1866. Dear William, — Last week I wrote from the borders of the lake of Brienz. To-day you see I am on an Italian lake, in a different atmosphere and among a very different people. The traveler over these Swiss passes is constantly changing back and forth between two nations and climates, as different as any to be conceived of. It was very striking, the other day, as we came over the St. Gotthard. At two o'clock we were in the midst of snow fields and ioy streams, bleak mountain tops and cold, bitter -winds ; then, as we began to descend, we carae to sun, fruits, and flowers, and at five o'clock were reveling in the softest air and sunniest sky, the roads were hemmed in by endless vineyards, the girls were offering peaches and apricots at the diligence window, and soft Ital ian words had taken the place in the lazy-looking people's mouths of the harsher German. Since last Sunday I have crossed the lake of Brienz, passed through the Brunig Pass to Lucerne, sailed over its lake, the most picturesque in Switzerland, climbed the Rigd, and spent the ine-vitable night there among its swarming tourists (the sunset was glorious, but the sun rose nobody knew when, for the dense cloud). We then drove to Andermatt, where we stopped to climb the Furca Pass and see the great Glacier of the Ehone, over the St. Gotthard, and down this noble lake to its southern point, whence I write to you. There is a feeble band playing outside the THUSIS. 133 hotel, a young woman is walking across a rope over the street, and all the ceremonies of a Sunday circus are in fuU blast, to the great enjoyraent of the popular tion, priests and aU. We shaU spend a few days here araong the lakes, and then strike northward again. Our plans wiU be regulated somewhat by the possibility which the very misettled state of affairs allows of our -visiting more or less of the TjtoI, but we hope to come out any way at Munich, and get a day or two there before I return to Paris to sail. To-day's newspaper brings the news that the arraistice is signed at last and peace must foUow soon. Mr. L. Napoleon, it seeras, is cutting in about those Ehine provinces, and wiU probably get what he wants ; it is a way he has. . . , I received a letter from you at Andermatt, and a good one, too. Is Fred still with you ? I hope soon to hear something about his plans. Is n't it fminy, to think that this is the last letter you wiU have any chance to answer ? Good-night, no end of love to all. Affectionately, Phillips. Thtjsis, Switzerland, Sunday, August 19, I.SOO. Dear Father, — I -wrote the other day to Fred, but I suppose that will not be aUowed to pass for my weeldy letter. At any rate, as there are only two more to write, I won't be mean, but give you the fuU measure. We are beginning to see our way through Switzerland now, and there are no broken heads or legs. Last Sunday I wrote from the lower end of lake Maggiore. Since then we have seen the lakes Maggiore, Lugano, and Como ; aU of them, especiaUy 134 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. the last, very beautiful. Indeed, in its own sort, nothing can be more lovely than lake Como. We stayed one day at Bellagio on its eastern shore, and then sailed down to Como, where we spent a night, and then up to Colico near its head. From here we drove over the Maloja Pass into the upper Engadine, one of the most interesting regions of aU Switzerland, peculiar in climate, scenery, and customs. Their o-wn description of their cUmate is that they have " nine months winter and three months cold," and as we entered their high table-land, out of sunny Italy, we put on great-coats and buttoned up to the chin against the bitter cold. The scenery is very grand, hardly surpassed in the region of Mont Blanc or Monte Eosa. We stopped at Pontresina, and from there climbed the Piz Languard, the observatory mountain of the district, and had snow-jieak and gla cier -views of surpassing grandeur to our hearts' con tent. Think of that, while you were sweltering in Bos ton dog-days. They call their language, down there, the Ladein, and it comes nearer to the genuine old Latin than anything else in existence. It was very in teresting. There is a great bathing establishment in the Engadine, called St. Moritz, with lots of visitors, among others, a Mr. G. McCleUan, formerly an Amer ican general. I did not see him. From Pontresina we drove over the Alps again by the Julier Pass to Tiefenkasten, and frora there walked across one of the picturesque foot passes to this little viUage on the banks of the infant Ehine, at the gate of the great Splugen Pass. From here we shaU explore the Splugen and its wonderful Via Mala, then go north by Zurich to Constance, through their lakes, and so on to Munich. From there a little trip MUNICH. 135 into the Austrian Tyrol, then back to Paris, where I hope to be three weeks from to-day. Four weeks frora yesterday ray boat is on the shore, my bark is on the sea, and my foreign travels wiU be over. There has been a great deal of hea-vy rain in Swdt- zerland this year, but we have very happily escaped it alraost aU. I reraeraber only four rainy days. It looks now a little as if it might be ugly weather to morrow. No letters from home lately. Some more are or dered to Zurich, where I shaU get them Wednesday or Thursday. I hope you are aU well and begin to have a sort of confidence that, as aU has gone so cap itaUy so far, I shall have no disappointment or bad news for the rest of my time, I hope you wiU have as perfect a success when you come. The Exposition, you know, is next summer. Strong wishes to be remembered to you, I suppose he will retum to Paris with me. Phillips, Hotel Viekjahbeszeiten, Munich, Sunday, August 26, 1860. Dear Mother, — Here goes for my last letter but one. If you have done sm-li a foolish thing as to keep any of my letters, you might find araong them one, almost a year back, dated frora this same hotel with the horrible name to it, where I am writing now. How little time ago it seeras ! But what a lot has come in between. It was last October, and I was just going to Vienna; since then, aU the East, Italy, France, England, and now Switzerland. Yes, Switzerland is done, and except for the Uttle glimpse 136 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. that I shaU get of them in the beautiful Tyrol, I have seen my last of the white hiUs. I look forward to nothing afterwards but a quiet week of loafing in Paris, and then the steamer. Two weeks after you get this, I hope you wiU get me, I found letters at Constance from WUliam and Mr. Coffin. WiUiam's was from that paradise on the seashore where they aU went this summer. They seem to be having a splendid time, and not to en-vy even Switzerland. I clo not wonder that they enjoyed it, for they had sufficiently varied materials for a very pleasant party. I am glad that Fred was with them, and was not rector of anything up to that date. I dare not hope that such a state of things wiU last long, but it makes rae think that I raay possibly find hira not yet emigrated to any of the ends of the earth when I get back. The great item of home news in the two last let ters is one that interests rae deeply. Bridget has gone ! You only state the bald fact, but give no particulars about her successor, as if it were not a matter of profound interest, even to an occasional visitor under the home roof. I do not care what her name is, but what can she do ? Has she any power to create those particular home dishes that have never been seen anywhere else ? Or is she some new person, who wiU introduce another order of things, and serve up the sarae round of endless stuff that one gets everywhere besides ? Eemeraber, I insist on flapjacks and fishbaUs. As to Bridget, she never was a cheerful person ; rather glum and solemn, not a sunshiny picture to have about the house ; and her flapjacks for the last few years were nothing to what they were, a trifle clammy and heavy ;• so that I -wiU PARIS. 137 not shed any tears over her departure, but hope the new-comer may beat her all hoUow. If this seems a foolish letter to send over the seas, just turn to my exceedingly sensible one, which I have no doubt I wrote last year, and read aU you want to know about Munich. What 's the use of writing when I can teU you aU in four weeks? Good-by, Love to everybody. Phillips. Grand Hotel, Paris, September 6, lS(iO. Dear William, — In answer to your last letter, here conies mine, written in a great hurry, at the last moment; you see I am so lazy, this fareweU week in Paris, that I have not time for anything. My work is over, and I am just sitting here like a feUow who runs over the index of the book he has been reading-, to see this epitome of aU Em'ope and of aU the world, — the cosmopolitan city, sparkling, beautifid Paris. But you will be here some day and see it for yourself, so what 's the use of teUing you ? Since I WT?ote from Munich, I have roamed down into the Tyrol and back again, and seen there some of the most picturesque of scenery and life. Then I put right off for here, where I shall stay till a week frora to-raorrow raorning, when I take the train for a sixteen hours' ride to Brest, and then on Saturday afternoon go aboard the Ville de Paris, Captain Saumon, for New York. I shaU get out of New- York by the earliest conveyance for Boston, and probably be with you some time on the 26th or 27th. The last trip of the steamer from New York took a little over nine days. AA^e shaU be likely, at this season, to be a little slower, but you shaU see me as 138 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. soon as I can get over to Boston. WiU you not drop a line to New York and teU them to send the "Nation" to PhUadelphia? So good-by. When you hear the doorbeU ring at No. 41, some time week after next, if you don't make haste to let me in, I wiU give it to you. Your affectionate brother, Phill. IN THE TYEOL AND SWITZEELAND. 1870, Steamer Hammonla, Thursday, July 7, 1870. Dear Father, — It rains to-day, and is very wet, miserable, and disagreeable, the second bad day we have had on our voyage. One cannot go on deck without getting wet through and his eyes full of cin ders. The cabin is crowded and close, and I have slept and read till I cannot sleep or read any raore ; so you see it is tirae to begin to write horae, and report rayseff. We got off safely on Tuesday, the 28th, punctually at two o'clock. Monday night I spent at Potter's, and we went up to Thomas's Gardens and heard mu sic. Mr. and Mrs. Franks met rae at the station, but I suppose you have seen thera before this. We were a queer set who sailed together, not many Americans, — Germans, Italians, Mexicans, Danes, and all sorts of people. It makes a very interesting ship's company. There are a lot of Jews ; nobody excejit Dr. Derby and his wife and the Mason fainily, whom I ever saw before. The ship is a good one, not ecj^ual in size ov speed to the Cunard or French steamers, but more convenient in some respects. We have had a splendid passage, only two rainy days ; most of the time clear, bright, sunny weather, and now moonlight nights. Being a screw steamer, she roUs pretty badly. I have been perfectly weU 140 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. and enjoyed it iraraensely. We shall be rather later than I expected; probably reach Plymouth some time to-morrow night, and Cherbourg Saturday morning, I shaU go to Paris on Saturday night, and reach there about four o'clock on Sunday morning. I wiU mail this at Plymouth, and your getting it wiU show you that I am so far safe. You probably wiU have seen the ship reported by telegraph. It has been a most propitious beginning for ray little trip. I wonder what has happened at home since I left. Be sure and write me everything ; write every week, some of you. I hope you are off to Niagara before this. Love aU around. Affectionately your son, Phillips, Courmateur, Italy, Sunday, July 17, 1870. Dear Mother, — I have not -written since I landed, of which I am a little ashamed, but I have been very busy, and it has been hard to find a place to write in. But here I am, on Sunday afternoon, sitting on the gaUery of this queer hotel, in this funny old Italian town, on the south side of the Alps. In front is a tremendous raountain, with a great glacier upon its face, and at the foot an old square tower with a peaked roof, which raay have been a fortress, but is now a house full of beggars ; and in the street in front there is a crowd of people chattering a vile language which is half ItaUan and half French. This morning I went to the English ser-vice here and heard a pretty good sermon. This afternoon I thought I would rather write to you. When I wrote to father we were still on the Ham- nionia. She reached Plymouth on Friday afternoon. COURMAYEUR. 141 the 8th of July, and we landed a few passengers and then saUed to Cherbourg, where we arrived very early Saturday morning, the 9th. I landed about five o'clock, and the steamer went on to Hamburg. From Cher bourg it was a ride of aU day by train to Paris, from eight A. M. to six p. m. The first part of the ride was through a country whoUy new to me and very in teresting, ¦ — Normandy, with its quaint people, towns, and splendid cathedrals ; Bayeux and Caen, and so on. I stayed over Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday in Paris, raade some purchases, and enjoyed the hfe of the won derful gay city. Then I rode aU Tuesday night by rail to Geneva, where I met Cooper, and our Alpine trip began. First we drove to Chamomiix and looked Mont Blanc in the face, from the side where I have seen hira before. He was good enough to be perfectly clear, and we saw hira splendidly. The next raorning we started, and had a hard day's trarap over the Col de Voza and tlirough two of the great valleys of the Mont Blanc laiige, with magnifi cent -views all the way, and spent the night way up in the heart of the hiUs at a mountain chalet, where the cows and sheep had the lower story and we had the upper. It smelt of thera a little, and we heard their bells, but the beds weie good and we \\'ere very tired. The next morning- we set out at five o'clock, and walked thirty-three mUes over three high passes, across snow and rocks, and finaUy through the AUee Blanche, the great gorge behind Mont Blanc, with its treraen dous dome and its pinnacles and great rocky waU towering over us. It was splendid beyond aU descrip tion. We reached here at ten o'clock weU tired out, and to-day are resting. From here we go on to Aosta ; then across the St. Theodule Pass to Zermatt, and 142 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. shall spend next Sunday probably at Andermatt on the St. Gotthard Pass. I have engaged passage home by the ViUe de Paris, to sail on the 10th of September from Brest ; the same stearaer in which I returned before. Everywhere there are rumors of wars about the Spanish business, but for three days we have been out of reach of telegraph and cannot know anything of their truth. Please teU father that I bought some bronzes in Paris, and ask him to pay the charges on the box and keep it for me. I have none of your letters yet, and shaU not have any for a week or more ; but do keep writing. I hope that you have been to Niagara. Good-by, love to aU, Phillips, Andermatt, July 24, 1870. Dear William, — I wonder what you have aU been about at home since I left you at the Worcester sta tion four weeks ago to-morrow morning. I have not heard a word yet, and shaU not get letters tiU to-mor row night, when we reach Coire, to which place I have ordered letters sent. I hope you are aU weU and ha-ving a pleasant summer. Last Sunday I wrote to mother from Courmayeur in Italy. Since then we have had a week of splendid weather and constant movement. First, we rode do-wn the beautiful vaUey of Aosta to ChatiUon through vineyards, ItaUan towns, and very hot Italian roads. Tuesday we climbed up the steep and ugly valley of Val Tournanche and slept at Breuil, under the shadow of the splendid Matterhorn. Wednesday we crossed from Italy to Switzerland again by the glacier pass of St. Theodule, between the AN DERM A TT. 143 Matterhorn and Monte Eosa, with great views of both and a hundred giants besides, and descended to Zer matt. Thursday we came down from Zermatt to the vaUey of the Ehone, and slept at Fiesch ; Friday we cUmbed the Eggishorn, one of the raost magnificent points of view in all Switzerland, commanding the Jungfrau and its big neighbors and the great Aletsch Glacier (the longest in Switzerland), the Matterhorn, and Mont Blanc. Yesterday we came over the Furca Pass, close beside the great Ehone Glacier, out of which the mighty river starts, and reached this quiet little German-Swiss viUage on the St. Gotthard road yesterday evening. It is a lovely day, and it is good to rest for twenty- four hours. To-morrow we are off for a ramble through northeast Switzerland, and shaU bring up next Sunday at Ober-Ammergau for the great Miracle Play. When that is over, I shall have five weeks still for a jour ney in the Tyrol before I go back to Paris to sail for home. Meanwhile, there is war in Europe, the most unne cessary and wicked of wars that ever was raade. France has been insolent and arrogant beyond herseU. It probably will be short and severe. A troop of soldiers just passed by the hotel. Switzerland, of course, is neutral, but is arming her borders. We have been out of the way of the war as yet, and probably shaU not see much of it. Do -write me how everything goes on at home and at the church. Give my love to Mary, and to aU at home. Affectionately, Phill. 144 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. Ischl, Austria, July 31, 1870. Dear Father, — You have written me twice, and well deserve that this Sunday's letter shoidd go to you. This Ischl is the great watering-place of Austria. Here the Emperor has his summer palace, and the great Vienna swells come hither to be under the shadow of his magnificence. Of course we Ameri cans come, too, to see the fun. Besides this, it is one of the most beautiful spots on the face of the earth. It is at the junction of five of the most lovely wild Tyrolese vaUeys, and is a pretty little open piece of plain with two bright streams running through it. We were at Andermatt last Sunday. We crossed the Oberalp on Monday, a long day's ride to Coire, There we spent a day, making a -visit to the famous baths of Pfaffers. From Coire we went by the lake of Constance and by rail to a quiet little Bavarian to-wn, caUed Kerapten. Here we heard what we had rumors of before, that the great Ober-Ammergau Passion Play was given up on account of the war, several of the principal characters having been drafted into the Bavarian army. This was a disappointment, for it was one of the great things which I had hoped to see in coining abroad. On Thursday we pushed on to Munich. Friday morning I saw at Munich a great mass in the cathedral on behalf of the Gerraan side of the war. The King and aU his court were present. Bavaria seeras very enthusiastic on the Gerraan side. Frora Munich on Friday afternoon to Salzburg, the most picturesque of towns, where I had been five years ago, but was very glad to be again. Yesterday the loveliest ride, first by rail to the head of the Traun See ; then a beautiful sail down the lake. MALNITZ. 145 and a ride of two hours up the valley of the Traun Eiver to Austria, and here we are. The preparations for war go on. They interfere with us only so far as money is concemed. At Munich we had to lose eight per cent, on a draft on Paris, We have had no disappointraent yet, except Ober-Ammergau. The Masons are here. I saw the MorriUs at Munich. Your letters received up to July 9th. Now we go out of reach of letters for several weeks. I am very well. Love to aU. Affectionately, Phill. Malnitz, August 7, 1870. Dear Mother, — I think you wiU not find this town on any map at home. Indeed, it is not easy to find when one is very close to it, for it is hidden away among mountains of the biggest kind, and is the littlest sort of a town itself. Besides this Hotel of the Chamois, where we are staying, and the church, which, like all the churches of this region, seems unreasonably large for the population, there is not another good-sized building in the village. The streets are sheep-paths, and there is not a vehicle in the town. But the scenery is gorgeous, and the simple ways of the people are very interesting. Yesterday, we walked over a high mountain pass frora Bad Gas- tein. It is a rough and steep road, -with a good deal of snow, etc. All along the road were little shrines, put up where men at dangerous parts of the year had lost their lives by avalanches or falls, with rude pic tures of the accident, and an address to the Virgin, and a horrible religious painting or carving of some sort. The people are very religious and very hos pitable. It is quite pretty, the way they bless you 146 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. and kiss your hand when you go away, particularly if you have paid them weU. To be sure, their bread is dreadful, and their meat is cooked in fearful and wonderful ways ; but there is plenty of good milk and splendid beer everywhere, and eggs and trout abound ; you always walk enough to be hungry for any food. The beds are short, and the bedclothes shorter, but one gets along with a supplementary shawl and plenty of fatigue; and the mountains, lakes, meadows and waterfaUs, are glorious. We have had a splendid week. Monday and Tuesday we spent among the lakes of the Salz kammergut, the region about Ischl. There are a score of them, all beautiful, shut in by mountains, which you cross from one fo another ; and there is always a Tyrolese girl, ready to take her boat and row you across to start on for another. Wednesday, we took a carriage, and for two days drove through the valley of the Salza, till, far up among the hiUs, we carae to the very beautiful water ing place of the Austrians, Bad Gastein. It is lovely as a dream, — just a deep mountain gorge with a wdld cataract plunging down through it, and splendid mountains towering above ; mineral baths, which are very pleasant. Yesterday, we walked across the moun tains, partly in the rain, spending two hours, while it was pouring, far up in a chalet, where they were making Swiss cheese in the dirtiest and most pictur esque hole you ever saw. This is the first untimely rain that we have had. This next week will be our finest mountain week. The war goes on, but we only hear of it by occa sionally seeing a week-old paper at some country inn. I hope it wiU not interfere with my getting to Paris MERAN. 147 and saiUng on the 10th of Septeraber. That is my selfish view of it. I shaU not hear yet for three weeks, but then expect a batch of letters. I hope you are aU weU. Love to all. Affectionately your son, Phillips. Mekan, Tyrol, August 14, 1870. Dear Fred, — I have been meaning to write you ever since I came abroad ; especially, I had a notion of writing to you on your birthday, the glorious 5th, but the mountains were too many for me, and every night I was so tired that I was fain to get into my uncom fortable little Dutch bed as soon as possible. I warn you beforehand, that you wiU have an awful time with the beds when you come into these parts. You and I are too long. 1 have just escaped frora a bed at this mitimely hour on Smiday morning, because I could not stretch out straight, or make the narrow bedclothes come over me, and that 's the reason why at this present moment I come to be writing to you. I have had five glorious weeks of Switzerland and the Tyrol, Mont Blanc, Monte Eosa, the Matterhorn, the Jungfrau, the Grossglockner, and the Marrao- lata. I have seen thera all face to face, had splendid weather, walked rayself into good condition, found the people interesting and amusing everywhere, and met with only one disappointment. That was in the giving up of the great Miracle Play at Ober-Ammergau, on account of the war, just before we reached there. It was a great disappointment, for one can never have another chance, and every one who saw it speaks of it as very wonderful. For the last three weeks we have been in the Tyrol. 148 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. I like the people immensely, especiaUy in south Tyrol ; they seem to me to be the most cheerful, in dustrious, hospitable peasantry in Europe. There is a pleasant mixture of ItaUan and German in their character, as there is in their language, look, and dress. They have very pleasant ways of doing things. It is pleasant, instead of the horrible gong which bangs away at AUiance or Crestline, or the blowsy Irishman who howls at you, "Dinner's ready," to have a rosy, neat Tyrolese girl, as she puts down a dish of soup, wish you, " May you dine weU," and as she gives you a candle at night say, " May God give you good sleep," and as she takes your fee at leaving, kiss your hand and wish you "lucky jour ney." To be sure, the soup is often bad, and the bread ahnost always horrible, in the little out of the way inns, but their dreadfuhiess is made more toler able by the people's pretty ways. It is embarrassing to happen to sneeze in a group of people ; every hat comes off, and the " God bless you's " are showered down in a distressing way. Off here in the hUls, we hear only stray rumors of the terrible war. The great battle of last week, with its unexpected defeat of the French, has thro-wn aU Europe into tumult, of which we get only the echoes. In two weeks I am going to Paris. What I shaU find there I do not know ; unless better fortune comes to retrieve him. Napoleon must be shaken, and probably overthrown. There is a sort of revolution already in Paris. What a blessed thing for us, that big ocean between us and aU this sort of thing ! I -ndsh you could be here this Sunday morning. Cleveland is pretty, but this is prettier. A lovely old valley, with vineyards at its bottom, and running up to the very BORMIO. 149 tops of the high hills that shut it in. Old castles and modern chateaux looking down frora every side, and in the midst this queer old town, with peasants in their picturesque Sunday clothes, strolling back and forth over the bridge that crosses the little Adige, and an Italian sky and sunUght over everything. What a good time we had in Boston those last two days. Can't you come on in September, when Arthur will be there ? I hope we shall have raany Sundays together as that last in June. Good-by, and good luck to you always. Affectionately, Phillips. Bormio, August 21, 1870. Dear Father, — I have received a letter frora you this week, written July 26, the second that has reached rae. The mails seem to be deranged, and it is not strange. I have written once a week to some of you ever since I landed. I hope long before this the stream has begun to flow, and you have received my letters regularly. This week we have been finish ing the Tyrol. From Meran to Innsbruck, where we spent a day ; then over the Finsterrauntz and Stelvio passes, the last the grandest in Europe, till we carae yesterday evening to this little Italian town, as pretty a sj)ot as there is to find anywhere. AA^e have had a little rain, but generaUy good weather, and a splendid tirae always. Hence we go through a bit of S-witzerland, and gradually work up to Paris, How we shaU get there I hardly Icnow, or what we shall find when we are there; but I apprehend no difficulty, and certainly no danger for a couple of peaceful travelers like our selves. We are getting a little more into the way of 150 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. news now, and can regulate our moveraents better. The one clear opinion seems to be, that somehow the war points to an overthrow and end of Napoleon. The disappointment and mortification of the French at their great defeat seems to be terrible, and the state of things in Paris for a few days was most alarming. Things are quieter now, but only wait for the next struggle, which must be a frightful one. We raeet no Araericans ; indeed, we have not seen a person we know for three weeks. Probably, as we get raore into Switzerland, we shaU find our country raen there. So old No. 41 is do-wn, and the new store is going up. It made me quite blue to hear of it; the world changes sadly, even our little bit of it, but we cer tainly had a good time in the old house for many years. To-morrow I hope to get more letters. Three weeks from yesterday I saU for home ; may God bless and keep you aU. Phillips. Hotel d'Orient, Paris, August 28, 1870. Dear Mother, — We are at last in Paris, after a long week's doubt whether we should be able to get here. We arrived this morning at eight o'clock, after a seventeen hours' ride from Geneva. We met with no detention further than having to wait here and there for trains loaded with cattle and provisions for the army. No Prussians stopped our way, and though it has been officiaUy announced that the government has taken possession of the road, the order has not yet gone into effect, and passenger trains run regularly through. We have seen nothing here to-day to indicate that PARIS. 151 the city is under raartial law, that the Prussians are only two or three days distant, and by aU reports in fuU march for the fortifications. There are many sol diers about, but the streets are emptier and stUler than I have ever seen them in Paris, and though there may be a row at any point at any moraent, there cer tainly was never a raore peaceful and safe-looking city. What the real state of things is, it is very hard to teU. That the Prussian aimy is advancing on Paris, everybody seeras to lielieve. The French papers say that it is a movement of desperation. The Prus sians call it the march of a victor. Meanwhile, the mystery which envelops the condition and intentions of the French armies at Metz and Eheims leaves one utterly in the dark. Whatever comes, there seems no probability of any danger to a stranger li-ving here, and I intend now to stay tiU a week frora next Thurs day or Friday, when I shall go to Brest, to sail the foUowing Saturday. What we may have a chance to see in the mean time in Paris, we cannot say. You will hear by the telegraph before you gt't this, but be sure that I wiU take good care of myself and shaU not be in any danger. We have eome this week from Bormio, where I wrote last Sunday, by Tirano, an Italian town in the midst of its vineyards, over the Bernina Pass to Pon tresina, in the raidst of its glaciers, then over the Albula Pass to Chur, on by rail to Zurich, thence to Berne, where we had to stop to get our passports viseed by the French minister for admission into France, thence to Geneva, and so here. This ends our raountain work, almost seven weeks of as perfect and successful a trip as we could ask. Everything has gone well ; no accident, no sickness, and scarcely 152 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. any bad weather. I am thankful I came, and now ten interesting days of Paris wiU complete the journey, except the voyage home in the Ville de Paris, which I expect to enjoy exceedingly. Why cannot you time your Niagara trip so as to meet me at the ship on Wednesday, the 21st, or Thursday, the 22d, of Sep teraber, I had letters at Pontresina from you and father, which did me good. I have missed a number of your letters, and was rejoiced to get these. I also had one from Arthur about his ordination. Please write him iraraediately that I wiU gladly come to Williamsport and preach the old sermon any time in October, if he can arrange it so that the whole trip can come in between two Sundays. It is cold and cheerless here to-day. I hope we are to have better weather for the gay city, which is bound to be gay, even if it is besieged. Love to aU. Affectionately always, Phillips. Paris, September 5, 1870. Dear William, — I write a line, which wUl prob ably not get home before I do, but I may be detained, and this wiU teU you that I am weU and coming. Yesterday was too busy and exciting a day to write. As the telegraph wiU have told you, there was a blood less revolution and we went to bed last night under a Eepublic. I saw the whole thing, and was much in terested in seeing how they make a Government here. You can have no conception of the excitement in Paris all day. I shaU leave here to-morrow or Wednesday for Ha-vre, and sail thence on Friday raorning. There has been some difficulty in getting out of Paris, but I PARIS. 153 do not anticipate any this week. StiU, at the very last there may be something to hinder, and even should the Ville de Paris arrive without me, do not be worried, but know that I wiU turn up soon. Good-by, love to all, Vive la Eepublique ! Phillips, SUMMEE IN NOETHEEN EUEOPE. 1872, Steamship Palmyra, July 5, 1872. Dear Father, — The voyage is almost over. To morrow morning we shaU be at Queenstown, where I think we shaU land, to go by Cork and Dublin to London. It wiU be pleasanter and quicker, and prob ably get us to London on Sunday raorning, (The ship roUs so that I cannot -write straight,) We have had a very quiet passage, not ranch bright weather, but nothing rough to speak of. Dull skies almost aU the way, with a good deal of rain. The ship is a very good and stanch little boat, rather slow, but still mak ing steady headway, and as comfortable as she could be with her rather limited accommodations. Paine and I have found our stateroom exceedingly comfort able, and with a few pleasant people on board, the time has passed briskly. I wonder how Fred has got along? His steamer must be not very far behind us, and I expect to see hira in London by Tuesday, I shall be there with him until Friday, the 12th, when we sail to Christiania. We expect to reach there on the 16th, and then shaU be off for four weeks on a country trip in Norway, Paine wiU go with me. . . , On Sunday, we had a sermon from an English rainister, whose presence saved me from preaching. It was a lovely day, the finest we have had. The voyage has been a very pleasant rest, and I LONDON. 155 shall be ready for an active summer when we land. Some people get dreadfully wearied of the sea, but I find every moment of it pleasant, and never feel in better health or spirits anywhere. I hope that you are going to have a pleasant summer. Do spend a good part of it in writing to me. I shaU look anxiously for ray budget of letters every week, care of Jay Cooke, McCuUoch & Co., London. I will write again frora London after I meet Fred, My love to raother and aU. Tell rae what they are doing, and tell thera aU to write. Phillips. London, July 9, 1872. Dear Mother, — I will begin a letter to you, now that I have a leisure moment, while I am waiting for Fred, who reported himself at the hotel this raorning when I was out, and has not yet returned. So he has arrived, but I have not seen hira yet. I wrote to father just before we landed from the Palmyra, We went to Cork and spent sorae hours there, and drove out to Blarney Castle, through some of the loveliest country that you can imagine. It was a glorious day, and we enjoyed it hugely ; then we took the train to Dublin, crossed the Irish Channel to Holyhead, a beau tiful sail of five hours, and then a long night's ride by rail brought us to London, where we arrived at six o'clock on Simday morning. Sunday I went to hear Stopford Brooke, at St. Jaraes's ChajDcl in the morning, and Dean Stanley at AVestminster Abbey in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day. Monday morning we went down town to the bankers, and then to the picture galleries. 156 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. and in the afternoon drove in Hyde Park to see the sweUs. We engaged passage on the Oder for Chris tiania, which sails next Friday morning. We shall arrive there on Monday evening, the 15th, We also engaged passage on the Thuringia from Hamburg for New York on September 11. To-day we have been sight-seeing, — the great South Kensington Mu seum and the International Exhibition with the new Memorial, which has just been opened, having been built by Queen Victoria in memory of Prince Albert. It is a very gorgeous and beautiful affair, Wednesday Evening, July 10, 1872. Just here Frederick turned up, and from that time to this I have had his company. He is weU, has enjoyed his voyage very much, and takes to traveling like a fish. He and I have scoured London to-day, caUed on the Archbishop of Canterbury, examined the British Museura and Westrainster Abbey, visited Hyde Park, and this evening we have been to a con cert at the splendid new Albert Hall. He means if possible to return with us in the Thuringia, but there is some uncertainty about getting staterooms. We shall know in a week or so. So the two great family trips are launched for the summer, and promise to go on well. You shall hear from point to point how we are faring. I do not feel as if these few days in London were really a part of it, and shall not think that we are fairly beginning until we are aboard the stearaer for Christiania to-morrow night. London seems too familiar, and, with aU its strangeness, a little too rauch like horae to be really abroad. It has grown enormously since I was here in 1865, and is simply too big to know much about in LILLEHAMMER. 157 two or three years, so that two or three days in it go for very little. I am sorry to see what hot weather you have been having in Boston, I hope it is only the working off of heat for the whole summer, and that you -wiU have it cool the rest of the time. Here the weather is delicious, — bright, cool, sunshiny days that quite disappoint one's ordinary expectations of London. Already I begin to feel how good it wiU be to get home, LiLLBHAMMER, NoRWAY, July 16, 1872. Dear William, — I have written to you in the course of our correspondence from many queer places, but perhaps this to-night is the queerest of thera aU. It is the neatest, triggest, cosiest little Norwegian inn, one day's journey from Christiania, just set in araong the raountains at the head of lake Mjosen. The peo ple in the courtyard under the windows are jabbering Norwegian and getting the horses ready for our cari- oles, which set out to-morrow morning at haU past five. It is half past nine o'clock in the evening, and broad daylight, so that a candle would be an absurdity. Last night at Christiania, I literaUy read a letter in the street at eleven o'clock, as you would at noon in Boston, But I raust go back. Last Thursday evening I left Frederick in London, and went on board the stearaer Oder for Christiania, which sailed the next morning at four o'clock. We had a pleasant little voyage of three days and a half across the North Sea and up the Skager Eack, touching on Sunday morn ing at Christiansand, and arriving on Monday at Christiania. The stearaer was good, the sea smooth, 158 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. and all went very pleasantly. The saU along the Nor wegian coast and up the Christiania Fiord was very beautiful. At Christiania, which is a very pretty, pleasant place, we spent yesterday, got our carioles, which are the joUiest-looking traps you can imagine, this morning took them on the train, and then on the boat upon the lake to this viUage, To-morrow morn ing we mount thera for our first drive into the country. I wish that you could see us pass. Much more, I wish there were a third cariole, and you were in it. I wonder how Fred coraet on. He seemed to be having a good time. I went with him to several of the great sights of London, which he appeared to en joy, and was in good health and spirits. I hope he wiU find some companion for the Continent, for I am afraid he wiU be a little homesick sometimes, if he does not. He hopes to return with us in the Thurin gia from Havre, September 14. WiU you do something for me ? WiU you go and see Mr. James T. Fields, and ask him (as I shaU be rather later than I expected in getting home) to put my lecture on English Literature as late in the course as possible ? — at the very end if he can. I think he -wiU have no trouble in doing it. No letters from you yet. I hope many are on the way, but we shaU not get them till we come to Bergen some time next week ; but do keep on writing, and teU all the news, little and great. I hope you are having a pleasant summer, . . , Affectionately, Phillips, AAK. 159 Aak, Norway, July 22, 1872. Dear Father, — We have been spending Sunday at this remote little place in the mountains, at the mouth of the Eomsdaal VaUey, which is one of the most remarkable gorges in Norway. We came here in a three days' journey from LiUehammer, whence I wrote to WiUiara last Wednesday. The traveling is very odd. We have our own carioles, which we took with us frora Christiania, having hired thera for a month. In these we travel about fifty railes a day. The cariole is a sort of sulky, soraething like a country doctor's chaise, with just I'oora for one person and a place to strap on a valise behind. The roads have stations every ten miles or so, where the people are obliged to furnish you a change of horse, which you take on to the next station. A sniaU boy goes perched on the baggage behind to bring the horse back. In this way we are always changing horses. I have driven sorae twenty or thirty already, mo.stly strong, willing little brutes, who raake very good time and do not seem to mind ray overweight. The road has been very beautiful ; last evening's ride, espe cially, was raost magnificent, through the gorge of Eomsdaal. There is nothing in S-witzerland like it. Our weather has been generaUy excellent, with occa sional showers which have not hurt us, nor delayed us much. It is a land where it makes not the slightest difference when you travel, for it is broad daylight aU night, being literally light enough to read easily in the open air at midnight. The only trouble is to get to sleep at night with the daylight in the room, and to keep asleep in the morning. This morning we waUted about three miles to a Norwegian country church, and attended sei-vice there. 160 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. It was very interesting. The little church was crowded and the service was fuU of spirit. The ser mon was dreadfuUy long, at least to us who listened to it as foreigners, and did not understand a word. After service there was a baptism of two babies, and then the catechising of the girls and boys of the parish — funny little folks they were ! The people aU belong to the Lutheran church, which is the Estab lished Church of the Kingdora. They are a most thrifty, decent, poverty-stricken people, perfectly honest, and not at aU handsome. I wish that you could see the -view as I look out of my window. The vaUey is completely shut in by raountains of the most gigantic size, and splendid in their shapes. A beautiful green river runs do-wn through it, and the fields in the bottom of the vaUey are green and rich. A pair of carioles has just driven up to the little inn door, and the people are chat tering in Norse about rooms and suppers in the most excited way. To-morrow morning we take a little steamer very early to go to Molde, do-wn one of the most beautiful fiords ; then we shall keep do-wn the coast to Bergen, exploring the fiords as we go along; from Bergen back across the country to Christiania, where we shaU be in about three weeks ; then to Stocldiolm, St. Petersburg, Moscow, Copenhagen, Hamburg; and then home. Nothing from Fred; you have heard from him of course. Love to aU, Most affectionately yours, Phillips. STEAMER FJALIR. 161 Steamer Fjalir, on the Nord Fiord, Norway, July 25, 1872. Dear Mother, — It is a rainy forenoon on a steam boat, and there is nothing pleasanter than to sit in the little cabin and write my weekly letter to you, although it is before its time. We are on our way to Bergen, running down one of the countless fiords that cut up the coast of Norway into slices. Last Sunday after noon, I wrote to father from Aak, at the foot of the Eomsdaal Valley, Monday morning, we drove in our carioles down to the head of the Molde Fiord, and there, carioles and aU, went on a boat, and sailed, in the midst of the grandest scenery, to Molde, where we stopped a couple of hours and dined on salmon and lobster, which are about the only things that grow along this coast. Both are superb. That after noon, we sailed along the coast to Aalsiuid, a little village with a most lovely situation, which is famous for nothing except the cod -liver oil which they make there. We passed the night in short beds, and the next day sailed up the Stor Fiord and its branch, the Geiranger Fiord, which is called the grandest in Norway. It is certainly magnificent. The narrow arm of the sea, with bright green water, is shut in between perpendicular cliffs of granite, two or three thousand feet high, over which countless waterfalls oome tumbling down in every conceivable shape. The stiUness and -wildness is wonderfuUy impressive. We spent that night at a little group of fishermen's huts, and slept in a schoolhouse, because the inn, which only has six beds, was full. AA^e called on the Pastor of the place, and spent an hour with him. He is the only educated man of the whole region, and was very hospitable and conversible, speaking very tolerable 162 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. English, Yesterday morning, we put the wheels on our carioles again, and drove aU day across the coun try, through magnificent scenery, to a little inn caUed Faleide, on this Fiord, where last night we took the boat for Bergen, The cabin is fuU of Norwegians, talking their unintelligible tongue. There is one Ger man family from Hamburg, who are pleasant people, and with whom, between their English and our German, we get along very weU. To-morrow noon we reach Bergen, and there I hope to get my first letters from you all. After a day or two, we start again into the country, and spend two weeks more before we come back to Christiania. About the 12th of August we leave Christiania for Sweden, going to Stockholm. On the 22d we go to St. Petersburg and Moscow, returning the first week in September. We sail from St. Petersburg by Lubec to Copenhagen, and thence go do-wn to Hamburg and take the Thu ringia, either there on the llth, or at Havre on the 14th. So aU goes well. I am having a splendid time. This rain, I have no doubt, will clear up to morrow, and with much love to aU, I am always Affectionately ours, Phillips. Steamer bet-sveen Bergen and Christiania, July 27, 1872. Since I wrote the inclosed sheet, our plans have changed. , . , Paine has been caUed home. We are now on our way to Christiania, and he wiU stop on his way at Christiansand, go thence to Hamburg, and so home by next week's stearaer. I shaU go to Chris tiania, to take back our carioles and close up things there. I am not quite sure what I shall do after- STOCKHOLM. 163 wards ; probably go to Sweden, and thence cross into Eussia, and come horae by way of some of the north ern German cities. We are ha-ving quite a royal progress to-day. Prince Oscar, brother of the king, is on board, and at every town where we stop, there is a boisterous welcome and farewell. Good-by again, and write often. Hotel Rydeerg, Stockholm, August 4, 1872. Dear William, — The stream of coraraunication this suraraer seems to fiow aU one way. Since father's letter, dated just a raonth ago to-day, there is not a word from my beloved faraily, or anybody else in Araerica. I hope they are well, but either they have not written, or Jay Cooke is faithless, or I have been running about too fast for letters to catch me. I hope Fred has been more fortunate than I. Here I am now in Stockholm, one of the nicest, brightest, gayest looking cities I have ever seen. I am very much delighted with it. It runs all about over a quantity of islands, in Venetian sort of style, and little bits of stearaboats go racing back and forth. The peo ple are bright and good-looking, and there are gardens and cafes everywhere. Friday evening, I went to the Deer Park to a concert, and the whole scene was as pretty as anything in Paris or Vienna. After I wrote last week, I came back to Christiania, and thence sailed down to Gottenburg, and thence by the Gotha canal here. It was a lovely day on the canal, and the scenery was very pretty. Yesterday, I went to Upsala, where is the great Swedish university, the old cathe dral, and the oldest relics of their history. Under three great mounds, their Odin, Thor, and Freia are said to be buried. 164 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. To-morrow morning, I am going off to Gottland, where there are some strange old relics of architec ture, and the whole place is said to be very picturesque and curious. It is a trip of two or three days, and then I come back here. After that, probably to Eus sia, where I expect to arrive next Sunday. There are very few Americans in these parts, — a good many English, and lots of Swedes. I like the Swedes very much. They are brighter and raore cheerful than the Norwegians, and very kind and wiU ing to oblige. The country seems prosperous and happy. The environs of Stockholm are beautiful. Come here, and look at this pretty town, when you bring Mary and Agnes to Europe. I hope they are well, and that you are not having the absurdly hot weather with which you began the summer. Already, we are within sight of the end of it. How strange it wiU seem to be settled do-wn again to the old round for another winter. Paine is on his voyage home by this time. I suppose you may see him before this reaches you. If you have not written to me, pray -write, and if you have written, write again, Phillips, Abo, Finland, August 10, 1872. Dear Father, — Did you ever get a letter from Finland ? If not, then here comes your first. I write in the sincere belief that I ara answering some letters of yours, although I have not received them. Some how, I have missed everything since your letters of July 4th. I hope nothing important has happened since that time. If there has, I do not know where I shall hear of it. Perhaps at St. Petersburg, whither I am bound now. But I must wait patiently. I left ABO. 165 Stockholm yesterday moming, in the steamer Con stantin, at two o'clock. Steamers have an uncomfortable habit of starting at that hour all over these parts. The boat is excel lent; aU sorts of languages, Eussian, Swedish, Fin nish, French, and German, are chattering around me. There are also three or four Englishmen on board. To-day's sail has been exquisite, wandering through the islands of which this part of the Baltic is fuU, with views continuaUy changing, and all pretty. At five this afternoon we came to Abo, at the mouth of the Gulf of Finland, and there we lie to-night. The steamers always lie by until two in the morning. To-morrow, we wind up the gulf amoug the islands. To-morrow night at Helsingfors, Sunday night at Vyborg, and Monday noon, the 12th, at St. Peters burg. The Fins are a good, duU, rude-looking people. We went ashore this afternoon and saw the strange old town. Nothing could be more foreign or pictur esque. It was odd to find one's self for the first tirae in the Czar's dorainions, but all his folks were very civil and seemed glad to see us. I made this week a very interesting two-days' trip to the old town of Wisby and the Island of Gotlfland. It was a twelve hours' sail down the Baltic at night. In the morning, we reached the island, and saw the old waUed to-wn, which was once a place of great trade and importance, but now in decay. The raost inter esting things in it are a dozen old ruined Gothic churches, sorae of them quite unique in architecture, and all showing the taste and wealth of the old times. At present, the island is soraething of a simimer resort for Stockliolin people. We took a long drive back into the country, through 166 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. rich farms and pleasant hiUs, the whole a picture of quiet, priraitive, pastoral simpUcity, which was very attractive. Another night's sail brought us back to Stockliolm, which is a most beautiful city, and after another day there, I sailed on this slow and pleas ant cruise for St. Petersburg. Since Paine left me, two weeks ago, I am alone, but meet companions often from point to point. There are alraost no Americans in these parts. It seems a long way from home. I shall spend two or three weeks in Eussia, going to Moscow, and perhaps to Nijni-Novgorod ; then to Berlin, Lubeck, and Copen hagen, and so to Hamburg, whence I sail for New York, on September 11. . . , After you get this, di rect your letters to Haraburg. I shaU get them sooner. I am very well and ha-ving a first-rate time. Have not had a hot day this suraraer. I hope you are aU weU and happy, and with much love to aU, I am most sincerely your son, Phillips. Moscow, August 18, 1872. Dear Mother, — Last Sunday, when I wrote to father, we were crossing the GuU of Finland, making for St. Petersburg. We passed the great fortifications at Cronstadt, and landed at the city Sunday even ing ; the next three days I spent in seeing the great capital. Everything in it is on the most enormous scale. Its palaces, the biggest and raost gorgeous; its churches, the richest; its squares, the most mag nificent in Europe. Its great church of St. Isaak is a wonder of marble, gold, and jewels. It cost 135,000,000, or about one hundred and fifty of the new Trinity. The picture gallery is one of the great- MOSCOW. 167 est of the world, -with some j)ictures one cannot see anywhere else. The whole country about the city is fuU of magnificent palaces, with splendid grounds and fountains, where one goes in the afternoon, and hears bands play in the evening, and takes a quiet sail on the Neva back to St, Petersburg, with the moon shining on the golden domes. What do you think of that? Grand as St. Petersburg is, it is only the vestibule to Moscow. You corae here by raU, a long, cUeary ride of twenty hours, with poor sleeping cars, for which you pay fifteen dollars. This Eussia is the most ex pensive country I have ever traveled iu. But when you get here, you are in the midst of picturesqueness such as you can see nowhere else. Think of three hundred domes and spires, aU different, all gold or sUver, blue or green, with golden stars, crosses, and crescents, and blazing under the intense sun that beats down on this plain. Yesterday afternoon, I drove out to a hiU near the city, the hiU from which Napoleon first saw it, and the view, as it lay glittering in the afternoon sun, was like fairyland. Then you step inside a church or palace, and it is aU briUiant with gold ; barbarous in taste, but very gorgeous. The streets are full of splendor and squalidness, all mixed together. First the grand coach and splendid horses of a nobleman, and then the wretched procession of con-victs, chained together, men and women, starting off on their long journey to Siberia. Everything has the look of semi-ci-vilization, exceedingly interesting, though not attractive ; but a country with some vast future before it, certainly. I hope you are all well, but I have not heard j'et, nor shall I for a couple of weeks, I have been very 168 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. unfortunate, but your letters at the last must reach me at Copenhagen. The last tidings I had were dated only a week after I sailed. It has detracted rauch from the pleasure of my journey, which otherwise has been very delightful. The weather here is exquisite. I see no Americans and few English. I have been wi,th an Englishman, but leave him to-morrow to go to the Great Fair at Nijni-Novgorod, where we have only the company of a French interpreter. Thence, in the last part of the week, I begin to turn my feet west ward; next Sunday, I shall probably write to you frora soraewhere outside of Eussia. Love to all. Yours affectionately, Phillips. Hotel du Nord, Berlin, August 25, 1872. Dear William, — I remember very weU writing a letter to you frora tliis very hotel seven years ago. It was about the beginning of ray first trip to Europe. There have been several changes since then, and I hope for the better. I reached here only this raorn ing, and find Berlin the same bright, cheerful-looking, great city I remember it. It has grown and iraproved iraraensely. Everywhere you feel that you are in the midst of a very great, strong, seU-assured Empire. Prussia is certainly the biggest thing in Europe to-day. But Eussia is not to be sneezed at, either. I was at Moscow when I wrote last. Frora there I went on a trip to Nijni-Novgorod, on the Volga, where the great annual Fair is being held. It is about twelve hours frora Moscow, and quite in the centre of Eussia, so that the journey there and back gives one a chance to see much of the country. Vast numbers of BERLIN. 169 people gather every year frora the east and west, and set up a whole city of teraporary shops for three months, on a low, sandy point of land, at the meeting of the Volga and the Oka. The crowd is most curious and pictui-esque. Persians, Tartars, Armenians, Chi nese, Caucasians, Jews, and Europeans of every sort ; with aU their various goods — teas, skins, fruits, car pets, great railes of iron frora Siberia, and wheat frora the Black Sea, — every language and dress you can picture. All this goes on for three months, and then they shut up shop and go home, and the place is de serted mitil the next year. The Fair was in fuU blast this week, and I saw it to good advantage. Then I came back to Moscow, spent another day, and saw the wonders of the Krem lin again. Then to St. Petersburg and to Warsaw, where I had a day, and a very pleasant one. It is a bright, live city, with fine buildings and beautiful pal aces ancl gardens. I liked what I saw of the Poles very much indeed. Yesterday I left AVarsaw at three, and reached here this morning at five. I went to church this morning and heard a very poor sermon. I hope you had a better one in Trinity. Now I am going to Lubeck and thence to Copenhagen. I sail frora Haraburg two weeks from next Wednesda}'. . . . I shaU be glad to be at home and at work again, though very sorry to break off this pleasant life. . . . Is it really true that Greeley stands a good chance for the Presidency? My kind love to Mary, Agnes, and aU at home. Thanks for the letters wliieh you have written. Yours always, Phillips. 170 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. Hamburg, September 1, 1872. Dear Father, — I feel as if I owed you and mo ther about a dozen letters to-day, for since last Sun day I have been wonderfully blessed in the way of hearing from you. At Copenhagen I received eight een letters, the accumulation of the summer, and now I understand aU about you and your doings up to August 16, You must have had a frightful sum mer, with the heat and the thunder-storms, I am sorry for the discomfort you must have suffered, but glad of the philosophy with which you seem to have borne it. I passed a day in Berlin, and then went to Lu beck, where I stayed another day. It is a picturesque old place, the most old-fashioned town in northern Europe, and I had a good time there. Then a pleas ant sail of fifteen hours carried me to Copenhagen, where I spent three days. It is fuU of interest. The Museura of Northern Antiquities is something quite unique, I had a letter from Mr. Winthrop to the Di rector, Professor W , but found that he had gone away to the Archaeological Congress at Brussels, but the letter secured me a reception by one of his assist ants, who went carefully with me through the museum. I found also in Copenhagen a gentleman -with whom I crossed in the Hammonia two years ago, who was very hospitable, and so I enjoyed the place very much. I bought one or two pieces of old carved furniture, which wiU be at home by and by. One day I went to Elsinore, and saw the ships in the Straits, and walked on the platform where Hamlet met the ghost. The great Exhibition is open at Copenhagen, and I saw the King, aU the royal people, and the Princess HAMBURG. 171 of Wales, Last night I carae thence by rail and boat to this gTeat to-wn. Among my letters was one from Fred, who wanted me to raeet him in Paris, and I think I shaU do so. I have thought of going back to Berlin for the great review next Saturday, but I shall give that up, a noble sacrifice to fraternal affec tion, I shaU go by way of the Ehine, and next Sun day Frederick and I wiU be at the H8tel du Louvre, Paris. Two weeks from to-day we shaU be on the Thuringia. , . . Your affectionate son, Phillips. FEOM LONDON TO VENICE, 1874. Albemarle Hotel, London, Sunday morning, July 19, 1874. Dear William, — ¦ This Sunday morning, your at mosphere must be a great deal clearer than the smoky London air in which I am looking out, through which I can just teU that it is a very pleasant day. I hope you wiU have a good Sunday. . . . Your letter, which came day before yesterday, was the first that reached me, and was a most welcome be ginning to the new spell of correspondence. It seems curious to start it off again for the fourth time. This trip, so far, has been a little different from the others. I have seen something more of people and received more hospitality than when I have been in England be fore. Everybody has been most cordial and ci-vil. , . . What I have seen have been mostly clerical circles, but in some ways clergymen and laymen are more mixed up and have more coramon interests here than in Araerica. For instance, aU are excited now about the Public Worship Bill. They talk of it at dinner, and write of it in the newspapers in a way that much sur prises us, who ordinarily leave such things to our Bishop and the people who go to the General Conven tion. It seems now as if the Bill woidd become a law, and it is hard to believe that it can do much good. I have seen a good deal of London over again with MORLAIX. 173 Arthur, There are many things in it that never tire, and the great city seems to grow raore and more enor mous every tirae we come. Last Monday we went aU over Westminster Abbey with Dean Stanley, who knows it as weU as I know the Technological HaU. It was a very interesting morning, and I -ndshed you were there. I preached there the evening before to such a crowd, and under such a roof, and among such columns and monuments as one does not often see. On Tuesday I went to the annual dinner of the sing ing people of the Abbey, in the Jerusalem Chamber, where we did aU kinds of queer old English custonis, sang, and made speeches tiU ever so late. I was the only one of the preachers of the year present, and had to speak for them aU. Think of speaking for BishojJS and Archbishops ! . , , On Friday, Arthur and I went to a dinner at Mr. Freemantle's, who was in America last year, Arthur sat next to Lady Augusta Stanley, the Dean's wife. He (Arthur) has been off for four days on a cathe dral trip, and I have been -visiting in the country. To-day I am to preach in St. Philip's Eegent Street, for Mr. Loathes, whom I saw in America last year, To-raorrow raorning we leave for France by New Haven and Dieppe, and begin at once on Norraandy. How I wish you were here. Shall we not corae together some day ? Write rae punctuaUy, and I wiU always answer. Affectionately, Phill, Morlalx, France, July 28, 1874. Dear Mother, — ^ Arthur says this is a "dutiful scene." He is sitting on one side of a wretched Uttle table, in this quaint old hotel, -writing to John, and I am just beginning this note to you upon the other 174 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. side. I dare say our letters wiU be very much alike, for there is nothing to teU, except where we have been and what we have seen ; that is rich enough, A week ago yesterday we crossed from New Haven to Dieppe, and had a very beautiful voyage. The sea was calm and bright ; the coast that we left and the coast to which we came, both were beautfful. Then we went up to Eouen, and spent a lovely day among its old Gothic architecture. There is nothing more beauti ful in Europe, Then we struck off into the coun try, and for a week we have been wandering around among old Norman to-wns, each odder and more picturesque than any that have gone before. Pont- Audemer, Lisieux, Caen, Bayeux, St. Lo, Coutances, GranviUe, Avranches, Pontorson, Dol-Eennes, Mor lalx, these are mere naraes to you, as they were a week ago to us, but now they are aU places to remember, — old towns, each with its churches six or eight hundred years old, some with magnificent cathedrals, and aU with curious houses tumbling out over the streets, and carved from top to bottom with the queerest figures in their oak timbers, apostles, prophets, martyrs, dragons, donkeys, trees, soldiers, and great wreaths of flowers. The streets theraselves are fuU of interesting people, doing the oddest things. Women with high, white caps, men -with wooden shoes clattering along the pave ments, children playing strange games, and donkeys laboring along with loads three tiraes as big as them selves. AU the places are full of history. Here WiUiam the Conqueror was born, and here he was buried ; here the Huguenots once burned the church, and there the Eoy- alists withstood the Eepublicans in the French Eevo lution. All this makes Boston seera far away, and TOURS. 175 the sense of vacation very complete. To-day we passed from Normandy to Brittany, a rougher, ruder country, and a wilder people. Last Sunday we spent at Gran-viUe, a curious French watering-place upon the coast, and after a service in the old cathedral, we bathed ancl swam from the great beach. Arthur is weU, and seems to enjoy it aU, To-night we received letters up to July 9, Here are some nice old people and " Little Wanderers " from Brittany. Are n't they pretty ? Love to aU, Write often. Phillips. Tours, Tuesday Evening, August 4, 1874. Dear William, — Here I have just received your second letter, fuU of pleasant talk, and teUing every kind of interesting thing about Andover, Mary, and aU the other people. I was glad to get it. For a week we have wandered on through Brittany, looked at old castles and cathedrals, and talked together about you aU, but have heard nothing since last Tues day evening. Arthur receives no end of newspaper cuttings, telling about the great Chicago flre, but my only home letter is yours, and I ara satisfied. I won der if you have followed us upon the raap ? We have roimded the proraontory of Finisterre, out on the northern side alraost to Brest, as far as St, Pol de Leon and Lesneven ; then do-wn to Quimper, and by Aiiray and Carae to Angers, where we spent last Sunday. To-day, our trip has been to Poitiers, and here we are to-night at Tours. It has been almost exactly the journey which I laid out at my table in the Kempton, and has proved about the best that could be made. I have been amazed at the richness of the old architecture of the comitry. In Uttle out 176 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. of the way viUages, reached only by rickety country wagons, we have found glorious and unmense churches of the rarest beauty, — churches that took centuries to build, and stand to-day perfect in their splendor, with wonderful glass in their windows, and columns and capitals that take your breath away for beauty. The people of Brittany are rough enough, and some of the inns at which we spent the night were dirty and for lorn ; but the people were always kind and civil, and did their best to make us comfortable. They show clearly enough that they are of the old Celtic stock, true cousins of the Irishmen we know so well. We had some drives, and we raet laborers by the score, who might easily have been turning up the bog in Ireland, or dri-ving a dirt cart among the ruins of Fort HiU, They are a very devout folk, even to superstition, and altogether interesting and filthy. Now we are out of Brittany, and making our way from town to to-wn along the splendid vaUey of the Loire. There is a cathedral here in Tours (with twin towers) that staggers you with its sijlendor, as you come suddenly out of a little dark, crooked street and stand in front of it. Yesterday, Le Mans had another, and to-day Poitiers was wonderfuUy rich. AU the while your letters come in most welcome, and are better than cathedrals. Now you must be just about going up to Andover and cooling yourseff after a hot day. My blessing to you always, and to Mary and the bairns. Do not forget to write. Yours always, P, Venice, Friday Evening, August 21, 1874. Dear William, — I fully expected, when we arrived here this afternoon, to find a letter from you, and per- VENICE. Ill haps from some of the other good folks at home, but they had not come, so this goes not as answer to any thing in particular, but only to teU you generaUy how we fare. We have reached the Adriatic. After two days in Milan, we rode to-day across the beautfful plain of northern Italy, and carae in over the Lagune to this wonderful city. It is nine years since I was here, but the city, which has stood for more than nine hundred years, has not changed much since I saw it last. St, Mark's is just where I left it in the great square, and the gondoliers are singing and rowing in the canal under my windows, just as of old. It has been a varied enough trip that we have taken, London, Brittany, Paris, Switzerland, and Italy. It has been delightful. We have been rather too much hurried ; I think we shall stay here for a week, and see the strange old city thoroughly. Arthur is enjoying it very much. The hotel here is full of English and American people. At the table to-day everybody, except one, talked English ; but there is nobody we ever saw be fore, and we stiU make each other's corapany. I wonder if you have had a pleasant summer ? In spite of all the delight of this sort of life, it wiU not be bad to get back again, settle down, and talk it over in West Cedar Street or Berkeley Street, . . . The news from home seems quiet, except that I see there is more trouble at the South. Four weeks from to-day I shaU be on the ocean, and six weeks from to-day I -will spend the evening with you if you wiU ask me. My kindest love to Mary, the babies, and all at home. Yours most affectionately, P. 178 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. Sunday, August 23, 1874. Dear Father, — This has been Sunday in Ven ice. This moming, we set out Uke good boys to go to church, but when our gondola reached the palace on the Grand Canal where service is wont to be held, we found a man upon the steps to say there was no service because the chaplain had gone into the coun try. It sounded very much like what might be said upon the steps of Technological HaU ; so Arthur and I made a round of the great churches, and looked at the pictures in them until dinner time. If we did not go to church, we went to churches. This evening, the moon is splendid on the water, and we took a gondola again, and rowed round about the beautiful old place for an hour. That has been our Sunday, We are lying by at Venice for refreshment, and no thing could be more delightful. The weather is ex quisite, cool, clear, and cloudless. The pictures are glorious, and you do not walk anywhere, because you cannot, but are rowed wherever you want to go in the most luxurious style. We came here over the Alps and by Milan. There we spent two days, about one of which I wrote last night, a letter which you wiU see by and by in the "Standard of the Cross." We shall stay here till Thursday or Friday, and then start through the Tyrol, slowly, by way of Munich and the Ehine, to Paris. Three weeks from Thursday we sail. On the 8th of September we raean to reach Paris. Think of us there. I wonder what you are doing ; how I wish you were here to see the Ducal Palace with us to-morrow. It would be great fun, too, to see the gondolas go out, I have seen nothing of the Winthrops, but have had a MA YENCE. 179 letter from Mrs, Winthrop, who is in Germany. My love to aU. P. Mayence, September 4, 1874. Dear William, — Let me see. The la.st time I -wrote to you I was in the top story of a hotel at Venice, looking do-wn upon the Grand Canal. To night, I am in the top story of a hotel at Mayence, looking do-wn upon the Ehine. From Italy to Ger many ! The change is complete enough, but the two evening views out of the windows are not so unlike. We have come up through the Tyrol, over the great Am- pezzo Pass that I have long wanted to see, and which we saw pretty weU. There was more or less of rain to keep the mag-nificent Dolomites from showing their most splendid heads, but on the whole the three days were a success, and brought us by IniLsbruck to Munich, where we spent Sunday and Monday. I have been there several times before, but it is a bright, cheery city, fuU of art treasures, which I do not care how often I see. Then we went to Eatisbon, and to Nuremberg, which was quaint and lovely. They were celebrating Sedan, and the gray old town was gay -with colored banners and flowers. Then there was a queer Fourth-of-Julyish procession in the afternoon, and the boys sang the " Wacht am Elieiii" about the streets aU the evening. After that we went to Hei delberg, and saw the grand old castle, the noblest thing of its sort in Europe, To-day, we carae up to Worms and saw the cathedral, and thought of Luther at the Diet, and this afternoon we journeyed on to this place ; to-raorrow, go do-wn the Ehine to Cologne, where we shaU spend Sunday. So our faces are set homeward, and ten days after 180 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. you get this you wiU get us, ff the Siberia goes well. We have not seen any one we know since we left Venice, but aU around us the papers tell of multi tudes of our countrymen having their good tune. I wonder whether they aU enjoy it as much as I do. Sometimes, especiaUy when I read home papers (and I thank you for those you sent me last), I grow conscience-stricken and restless, and want to be at work ; then I make up my mind to work aU the harder when I reach home, and thus dismiss the anxiety and go on my easy way. I hear that father and mother wUl stay another year in Hancock Street. . , . I should think it is the best plan, and we wiU still climb the hill to see them. I shaU be glad enough to see you as we draw up at East Boston. My brotherly love to M. Affectionately, Phillips. ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. .1877, London, July 4, 1877. Dear Father, — Hurrah for the Fourth of Jidy ! WiUiam has gone for a day or two by himseff on a trip to see cathedrals, and I have no doubt is enjoying everything between here and Durham. I think he will be back to-night, and then we shaU keep together for the rest of the tune. Since we arrived and came to London, we have been very busy. AViUiara has been doing the sights, and I have been about with hira most of the time. Last Saturday we went down to Salisbury and spent a delightful Sunday in that (j^uiet, little cathedral town. In the afternoon we drove out to Stonehenge, which is, I think, the best thing to see in England. It is so old that it woidd puzzle the Historical Society itseff. I left William there and came back to London early Monday morning to go and Imich with sorae parsons. Indeed, I have been parsoning a good deal of the time. We are to dine with Dean Stanley on Saturday evening, and I am to preach for liim in the Abbey on Sunday morning. This evening I am to dine with Mr. Pierrepont, the Araerican minister. I suppose General Grant wiU be there. AA-^hat a time he has been having here. . , . To-day I have been at Convocation, or sort of General Convention of the Diocese of Canterbury, 182 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. though they are wholly clergymen, no laymen. To-day they have been discussing confession, and ended in a vote by a large raajority on the Protestant side, Friday night we have an order for the House of Lords and House of Commons. So you see we are having a good, busy time. Monday morning we leave for the Continent and then our real traveling begins, I hope that you are getting better and better aU the time. Do not forget that you and mother are to come and spend two weeks with rae at 175 Marlboro' Street,' My kindest love to her and the aunts. Affectionately, P, Old Bible Hotel, Amsterdam, Sunday, July 15, 1877. Dear Mother, — I want you to imderstand that you must answer this letter yourseff, with your o-wn hand. I think it must be ten years since you have written rae a regular letter, hardly since I was in Arasterdara before, so reraember ! They caU this hotel the Old Bible Hotel because the first Dutch Bible was printed in this house some two hundred years ago, and now we are lodged here, yes terday and to-day. This morning we went to a Dutch church about six hundred years old and heard some awful singing and a very earnest serraon, of which we did not understand a word. This afternoon we went into the country to a place caUed Zaandam, and saw all sorts of queer sights among the country people. On the whole, our first week on the Continent has gone first-rate, and we shaU spend this week entirely in HoUand, bringing up at Cologne on Saturday night. We are both well and are having a good time. In England all went nicely. I saw a good many people LUCERNE. 183 in London, and they were pleasant and ci-vil. General Grant was the great sensation. I dined -with hira on the 4th of July at the American minister's. He did not say much, but was simple and dignified. We saw a great deal of Dean Stanley, who is very pleasant. I am so glad to hear how weU father is, and that the summer goes so happily with you aU, Our time is one third up, and it wiU not be long before we are talking of home again. A letter from Jaraes teUs rae that I am a Doctor of Divinity at Harvard, I am very sensible of the honor, but I hope people wiU uot begin to call me by the title. My best love to father and the aunts, and I am forever Your affectionate son, Phillips, Lucerne, Sunday, August 12, 1877. Dear Mary,i — Now I wiU tell you all about it. I dare say WiUiam has written you since we arrived at Liverpool, but perhaps he has not told you anything about where we have been, or what we have been do ing, I must go back to the stearaer, where there were a great many pleasant people. We sailed along as quietly as ff we were paddling on this quiet lake of Lucerne, the sea bag hardly wiggle-waggled on the wall. Everybody carae to dinner, and the tables were dreadfuUy crowded. On the whole, it was n't rauch of a voyage, quiet, dull, and respectable, AA^e probably shaU get something liveUer going back, when the Sep tember sea -wiU throw up its heels and make some sort of rurapus. Then we came to England, where, ff it had not been for General Grant, we should have been of some con sequence, but they were aU taken up -with hira, and looked at us as if they wondered what we had come for. ^ A sister-in-law. 184 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. And we went about among them as if we had as good a right as they had, because our great-great-great grandfathers came from there. Their country looked beautiful, and London never seemed fuller of people, and was pretty hot. It is terrible to think how many times we have been sizzling with heat and shivering with cold since we left New York. I feel Uke one of the pieces of meat which we have had served up at our many dining-places, which have evidently been heated over and then cooled down again a dozen times for different travelers who came. However, it is a pretty healthy process, and we are getting as tough as some of the pieces of raeat. W^ell, that is what we did in London. Then we crossed over to the Continent and so carae to the Belgians and Hollanders. The country up there was damp and interesting. It was curious to see how hard they have worked to save it from the sea, and you wonder why they wanted to save it. The men looked wooden-headed and the women golden- headed, not as to their hair, but they wear gold blind ers, like very sweU horses, which raake thera look very funny, and compel you to go on the other side of the street when you meet a first-rate a la girl. But they were a dear old people, and I can hear their wooden shoes clattering about the Amsterdam pavements now. I have no doubt they -will go on growing up (those of them who don't faU into the canals and get drowned in early youth), generation after generation, for ages to come, and thinking they have got the best country in the world. Then came the Ehine, and a little glimpse of Ger many, and Gothic architecture, and all that sort of thing, our romantic period. It was aU pretty, and STRASBURG. 185 WiUiam kept up a lively life, sight-seeing aU day. . . . Then came the green Tyrol, running up to the White Alps and sending us over from the snow-storm on the Stelvio to swelter in Verona. We put on overcoats and wondered whether we had reaUy thirsted for a drop of water only two days before. Then came Ven ice, as fascinating and dreamy as it always is, beauti ful hot Florence, bright Milan, then the hiUs again, and now we are in Switzerland. That is aU. There is a lake outside this fourth-story window that is pret tier than anything in Pomfret, and to-morrow we are going over where those clouds are lying, to see the beauties of the Bernese mountains. I expect to see the Jungfrau wink at WiUiara to-raorrow evening. He is as weU as a healthy cricket. Thank you for letting him come, and I 'U return him safe. My love to the babies, if they have not forgotten me, and I am just as usual. Your affectionate P, Strasburg, August 20, 1877. Dear Arthur,^ — You were a blessed good boy to write me from Bar Harbor. I only received your note last night when I came here, and here 's a "word of answer, though we are so near coming home that it hardly seems worth while to write. AVe have had a lovely summer, much of it on our old ground. First, London and the Dean (I did not see Stopford Brooke or Freeraantle) ; then the Rhine, Venice, and MUan (but the gaUery there was closed, and we did not see the Luinis) ; then Zermatt and Chamomiix. AU these brought back our pleasant days. AVe roaraed about and lunched at Bauer's, which stood just as we left it opposite St. Moses. It seems as if we had been 1 His brotlier, Rev. Arthur Brooks, D. D. 186 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. there only a week before, in fact just run up to Co- negliano and back again. And you have been in the old haunts in Mt. De sert. You were cooler than we were in Venice, cer tainly, I have seen no parsons frOm America, though I heard of Tyng being about in Switzerland. The minister at Geneva wrote and wanted me to lay the corner stone of his new church, but I wrote him I could not, and he asked General Grant, which no doubt pleased him a great deal better, . . . There has been a terrible summer in America, has n't there ? Matters must be in an unsettled state and delay the return of prosperity sadly. Over here, it really seems as if Russia had got a rauch harder job than anybody dreamed, and one perhaps too hard for her to accomplish. Nothing but Glad stone, and the popular feeUng which he excited and expressed, has kept England neutral. I wonder if you are back in New York and at work again. Look out for the Scythia on Tuesday, the 18th, when we arrive under the care of Captain Hains. I shaU feel by and by as if I could not cross the ocean except with him. Give my best love to Lizzie, and teU her I count on her and you to be my first visitors in the new house. We -wiU have lots to talk about. To-raorrow we start from Paris, and a week from next Saturday, ho for New York ! Always affectionately, P. IN PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND IRELAND, 1880. Hotel du Louvre, Paris, July 7, 1880. Dear William, — You know this place. The Louvre is just opposite, the Palais Royal is just be hind, and you and I were here in 1877. You see we have not been quite able to keep to our plan of not going out of the United Kingdoni. I have to be in London, or rather at Windsor, next Sunday, to raake a few reraarks to the Queen, so we ran over here for the week between. It looks just as it used to. The Venus of Milo is over there in the round haU, with the red curtains behind her, and the Titians, MurUlos, and Raphaels are upstairs. The cabs go whirling over the asphalt, just as they used to when you and I were in them. It is very jolly and pretty, and I wish that you were here. Everything in London was very good. The Dean was all civility. He gave us his dinner party, and Farrar and others were there ; and we went to the great Bradlaugh debate in the House of Com mons, and stayed until it broke up at two o'clock in the morning. We went also to Lambeth, and saw the Archbishop, but did not lunch with him. The pictures in Trafalgar Square were just as fine as ever, and I bought sorae Waidienphasts, and preached in the Abbey on the 4tli of July evening. Farrar preached in the morning, and beat me on Yankee 188 PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND. Doodle ! Tell Mary I shall write her from the High lands, My love to her, the babies, and aU Nahant. Affectionately, P. Steamship Columba, July 29, 1880. Dear William, — I am on a steamboat between Oban and Glasgow on the coast of Scotland. John is up on deck somewhere, and the scenery outside has grown a little tame, so I take this chance to teU you that we are weU, and the Scotch trip, which is draw ing near its end, has been a great success, just as the Dutch, the Tyrolese, and the Swiss trip were three years ago. We left London on the 12tli of July ; the day after I -wrote a beautiful letter to Mary from Windsor Castle, and went to Edinburgh, where we saw many pretty sights, and quite a number of interesting people. Dean Stanley had furnished us with introductions, and every body was very eivU. We stayed there three days, and then went to St. Andrews, where we saw the great ruined cathedral, and some more agreeable people con nected -with the university there. We spent a queer night at an old castle, where some of Dean Stan ley's relations live, and aU was very nice and funny. Then we struck north, and have been wandering about the Highlands and the Island of Skye for the last ten days. First-rate weather, lots of queer adventures, and all sorts of ridiculous stopping-places, with superb scenery everywhere, made it a delightful journey. Now our faces are turned homeward. A day upon the Lowland lakes, a day in Glasgow, a week among the English lakes, a Sunday, August 8, at Chester, three days in Ireland, the Germanic at Queenstown on the 13th, New York some time on Saturday, the WELLS. 189 21st ; then Nahant, Boston, the new house, and ser mons. . . . I received Mary's letter last week, and consider it an answer to the epistle from Windsor. TeU her I thank her for it. Good-by. Affectionately, P, Wells, August 5, 1880. My dear Mary, — Thank you for your letter, which was very good to get. We are too near home (for we sail a week from to-morrow) for me to write you a great long an.swer, but it just occurs to rae that I may reach Boston at some untiraely hoiu', and want to get into ray house, while you and William are comfortably sleeping at Nahant. So wiU you ask him, about the time we are expected, to leave the house keys at the Brunswick, directed to rae, and I can get them there. I wiU thank you when I see you. We have had a beautiful time. It has always rained except just where we were, and everybody has seemed to go out of his, her, or its way to make us happy. Now we are getting a few days down here among the southern to-wns. We have just come back from Glastonbury, which was very pretty, and I am WT-iting to you in a queer little mahogany coffee-room. John is beside me, writing an immense letter to his wife, which is a thing that aU ray traveling com panions have done in their several turns. At the other end of the table, an old gentleman with a bald head is studying a railway time-table, and his -wife, who is very ugly, is asleep in an armchair in the southeast corner. At the northeast corner of the room, a man is eating his supper of fried sole and boiled eggs. The old gentleman has just caUed for a glass of " brown brandy and soda water," and he seeras to think it wiU 190 PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND. taste good. There is a row in the haU because an omnibus has just arrived from the station with some raore guests, and the lancUady is running about like an over-busy hen. That is about aU that seems to be going on to-night in WeUs. The old gentleman, who seeras to be the liveliest member of the party, has got his drink, and is ordering a boiled sole for his break fast at half past eight to-morrow moming. Now Wells is perfectly quiet. Not a sound. • , . Ever yours affectionately (if you don't forget about the keys), P. A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 1882-1883. Steamship Ser-via, June 28, 1882. Dear Johnny,^ — We have had a wonderful pas sage, and here we are just getting ready to see Fastnet light this afternoon. Does n't that bring back two years ago, and all the long dreary day between Queens- to-wn and Liverpool? I hope that we shaU have a more cheerful experience to-morrow. Dr. John HaU is aboard, and Dr. Lorimer, and Lawrence Barrett, and T. B. Aldrich, and four hundred and fifty more ; and we have had a bright, sunny, happy time. McVickar and James and I and Richardson and John Ropes make up a sort of party who sit together at the cabin table, and smoke together in one corner of the deck, and talk about whatever chooses to turn up. And so the year of wandering has begun. It is not easy yet to realize that it is more than a mere smnmer's journey, but every now and then it comes over me that the gap is to be so great that the future, if there is any, wiU certainly be something different in some way from the past. I don't regret that, for pleasant as aU these past years have been, they don't look very satisfactory as one reviews thera ; and although I am inclined to put a higher value on their results than anybody else would be likely to do, they have not cer tainly accomplished much. I should like to think that the years that remain, when I get home, would be ' His brother. Rev. Jobn C. Brooks. 192 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. more useful. There is surely coming, and it has partly come, a better Christian Day than any that we or our fathers for many generations have seen. One would like to feel before he dies that he had made some little bit of contribution to it. WeU, weU, aU that is far away ; and here come the stewards rattling the plates and getting ready for an immediate lunch, — soup and cold meat and prunes and baked apples ; that is the next step in this smaU floating world, and the future of Christianity does not interest any of them at this moment. I wonder what is going on at home. Your Marion home must be ahnost done. I hope with all my heart you and yours may be very happy there in secula seculorum. Think of me sometiraes, and when you think, write. My love to Hattie and the babies. Ever affectionately, P, Steamship Servia, June 28, 1882. Dear William, — We reached Queenstown last night, and I wish you were here this raorning. I would teU you what a pleasant voyage we had, since you left us a week ago this morning ; what a splendid great ship this is, and how McVickar and I have rat tled round in our little stateroom. I preached last Smiday, and we had an entertainment last night for the Liverpool Seamen's Home. I presided, and Law rence Barrett read " Horatius," and girls and boys sang songs. "WiUiara," our old steward of the Scy thia, is on this boat, and waits on Jaraes. The Cap tain never speaks to anybody ; we have four hundred and fifty passengers, are a-wfuUy over-crowded, and have to dine in two batches. It is aU delightful and confused, and as funny as an ocean voyage always is. BRUSSELS. 193 But you are not here, so I wiU not try to teU you aU this, but we have really had a raost reraarkable voyage. I think we are likely next week to turn our steps southward and spend the summer in southem France and northern Italy, with perhaps a run into- northern Spain. Richardson will probably join us there, and architecture be the main interest of the tour. But art, Ufe, and scenery shaU not be forgotten. You shaU hear all about it. Did Gertie get the list of passengers I sent her? I thought she would see a good many names that she knew, and would be interested in knowing who ray companions were. James has just passed by, pacing the deck with jocund tread, and sends his love. It was good of you and Mary to come and see us off, I think you are both very good to me aU the time, ancl to tliink of your goodness wiU be one of my greatest joys this long year. P, Hotel Belle-vue, Brussels, Jidy 9, 1882. My dear William, — Do you reraeraber pretty Brussels ? And this comfortable hotel and St. Gudule and the nice time we had here five years ago ? AVell, here we are again, James and McVickar and I, and I will tell you how we got here. We landed after a most wonderful passage from the Ser-via on Thursday even ing, the 29th of June. The next inorning we left Liverpool, and James and I spent the night at the Peacock Inn at Rowsley, where we went to see Chats worth and Haddon HaU. It was the most delightful English afternoon. Saturday inorning we took a train for LincoUi, and saw the big cathedral, which you know. That was good, too, and James seenied to enjoy it very much. In the afternoon we drove to 194 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Boston, where we saw the Vicar, who insisted that we should remain for Sunday. We declined his invita^ tion to the vicarage and stayed at the Peacock Inn. It is a very neat and pretty town, as dull as death, with nothing but the St. Botolph Church to give it distinction. On Sunday morning James read the Lessons in the big church and I preached. It was a pleasant sort of experience. John's visit of two years ago was constantly referred to, and seems to have be come historic in the town. The Vicar is a very pleas ant old gentleman and hospitable as he can be. From there we went to Peterborough, and on Mon day saw Ely and a good deal of Cambridge, and finaUy brought up at London on Monday night. We went to one or two hotels about Trafalgar Square, but they were crowded, and at last we brought up at the old door of the Westminster Palace Hotel, where they took us in, and it was like a bit of the old times. Here we stayed three days. One night we went to the House of Commons, Of course I went into the Abbey and saw the Dean's grave, and I called at the old deanery, but the new Dean was out. Farrar came to see me and asked me to preach. I saw Lady Frances Baillie, and we had much talk about Dean Stanley. Then we went out to see Burne Jones the artist, and again to see WUUam Morris the poet, at his factory at Merton Abbey, where he makes his beautiful things. These, -with some sights of London, took up our time. McVickar, who had been to see his sister, joined us again in London, and here we also met . Richardson, and arranged to go with him to southern France and Spain, Think of us there when you get this. On Friday, James, McVickar, and I crossed from Dover to Ostend, and yesterday we went to Louvain, PARIS. 195 where McVickar had to see about some beUs for Holy Trinity, There is a bright and busy ten days since we landed. How are you all? I tried to picture you at Andover this Sunday afternoon, with the amits tak ing care of you. Oh, how I wdsh you and Mary were here, and could go down with us to hear the Vesper music at St. Gudule. It is all very pleasant and wiU last for six weeks more, and then for Germany, and something rather more Uke work. It is hard to real ize that a year and more raust corae before I see you aU. God keep you. My best love to Mary and the children. Affectionately, P. Hotel de l'Empebb, Paris, July 14, 1SS2. My dear Gertie, — I was very much pleased to get your letter, and think it was very nice indeed in you to write. It was the first letter I received, ancl I read it as I was sitting in the vestibule of the House of Commons in London, waiting for the doors to open, to let us go in and hear the great men make their speeches. Since then we have traveled on and on, and now are in great Paris. It is all excitement here, because this is the great Fete Day, just like the 4tli of July in Boston. Years and years ago, the old prison of the Bastile was taken, and the prisoners were released on the 14th of Jidy. Susie wiU teU you all about it. The streets to-day are full of flying flags, and there are bands of music going aU about town, and hosts of soldiers marching. This evening, the city is going to be illuminated, and there wUl be fireworks everywhere. And it is all as pretty as pretty can be. Don't you wish that you were here ? Sorae day you and I wiU corae. The funny thing is that the people here speak French. The little chil- 196 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. dren about the streets speak it, just as well as you speak English. The boys and girls are very queer. The cominon Uttle boys wear blue blouses, and the little girls wear small white night - caps all the time. It is bright, and sunshiny, and delightful. I am glad you have had such a nice time in New York, and that you saw Central Park and the Ele vated Railroad. Now I am glad you are having such a good time at Andover. Go and see the beautiful pig, and write me a letter and tell me how he looks. Get your map and find Bayonne, do-wn in the south west corner of France. We shaU be somewhere about there when you get this letter. Good-by, and don't forget your affectionate uncle Phillips, Nimes, France, July 23, 1882. Dear William, — I am afraid that a little letter which I wrote from Paris must do duty, and fiU the gap between my last to you and this. After we left Paris, we traveled somewhat rapidly through France until we reached this place. What we saw speciaUy was a group of churches in Auvergne, in and about Clerraont, in which Richardson is especiaUy inter ested, and which indeed give the key to a great deal that is in Trinity. They are very curious, and I ara glad to have seen them. Besides, we saw one or two funny little French watering-places and some fine scenery, finer than anything which I had supposed there was in France. We are spending a quiet Sunday here, and next week shall very possibly start for Spain, where we may spend a few weeks, but our plans are uncertain. Richardson and his young friend Jacques are stiU with us. GENOA. 197 I have heard little from horae, but am thankfid to know that aU goes well. There were a few lines on the outside of a forwarded letter, which reached me here, in which you told me that Arthur and Lizzie sailed on the llth. They must be now in Europe. I hope they wiU let me know their whereabouts, and that I may see thera before they go horae. It seems very strange that we should aU be in Europe, and not know anything about each other's ways. Allen writes me about the church, which seems to be getting on well. I wish you were here, but do write me aU about everything. My love to all. P. Genoa, July .30, ],s,^2. Dear William, — ... You do not know what a lovely Sunday this is here. The sea breeze is blowing, the palaces are shining, the people are chattering, the sky is a delicious blue, and you, ff you were only here, would add another picture to your gaUery which would be worth keeping all your life. Since last Sun day we have -stroUed through southern France, seen Provence with its wealth of old Roman remains, and sailed, with the loveUest passage, across from Mar seilles to this delightful towai. To-morrow, we stait by steamer for Leghorn, Pisa, and Florence. North ern Italy will have the next three weeks, — until Jaines leaves us for home, and the whole party goes to pieces. We have had sorae hot weather, but no thing oppressive, — nothing like what I fear you have had at home. We are e-vidently going to have a troubled year in Europe, and just at present it cannot be nice to go to Lidia. It seeras most doubtful what wdU be the end. 198 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. especiaUy if, as now seems likely, the religious ques tion gets mixed up with it, and a Mohammedan sacred war is proclaimed. England is sure to come out strong. Her action in Egypt must certainly be for the advantage of civilization and the world. . . , Florence, August 6, 1882. Dear William, — How do you aU do this week? Dear me, how the weeks go by, and the hot summer slips away ! Since last Sunday we have had a pretty sail from Genoa to Leghorn, a bright day in Pisa, a nice tliree days in Florence, and a visit to Sienna and Orvieto. Just think of Or-vieto, where we slept Friday night, within two hours and a haff of Rorae ff seff ! Do you remember Florence ? There is a cathedral here, a Baptistery, a Campanile, and there are Donatel- los, Andrea del Sartos, and Lucca deUa Robbias ; and they aU look just the sarae as they did five years ago. It is not quite so hot as when we were here last, but it is the same bright, happy-looking place, and the same man sells lemonade under the shadow of the loggia. To-morrow morning we are off for Bologna, Ravenna, and then Venice. Think of us on Sunday the 20th, at Milan, and Sunday the 27th, at Paris, Our party has held together beautifully, and there has been lots of fun. I shaU meet Arthur and Lizzie for a while after the 1st of Septeniber. I heard from John yes terday, who seems delighted -with Marion and his house, . , . My next prospect is Gerraany, and I am counting much on it. VENICE. 199 Venice, August 13, l,s82. Dear Gertie, — When the little chUdren in Venice want to take a bath, they just go down to the front steps of the house and jump off, and swim about in the street. Yesterday I saw a nurse standing on the front steps, holding one end of a string, and the other end was tied to a little feUow who was swiraraing up the street. When he went too far, the nurse puUed in the string, and got her baby home again. Then I met another youngster, swiraraing in the street, whose mother had tied him to a post by the side of the door, so that when he tried to swim away to see another boy, who was tied to another door post up the street, he could n't, and they had to sing out to one another over the water. Is not this a queer city ? You are always in danger of running over some of the people and drowning them, f(n' you go about in a boat, instead of a carriage, and use an oar, instead of a horse. But it is ever so pretty, and the people, especially the children, are very Inight, and gay, and handsome. When you are sitting in your roora at night, you hear some music under your window, and look out, and there is a boat with a man with a fiddle, and a woman with a voice, and they are serenading you. To be sure, they want sorae raoney when they are done, for everybody begs here, but they do it very prettily and are fuU of fun. TeU Susie I did not see the Queen this tirae. She was out of tovm. But ever so many nobleraen and princes have sent to know how Toody was, and how she looked, and I have sent them aU her love. There must be lots of pleasant things to do at An dover, and I think you must have had a beautifid sum mer there. Pretty soon, now, you will go back to 200 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Boston, Do go into my house when you get there, and see if the doU and her baby are weU and hapjjy (but do not carry them off) ; and make the music box play a tune, and remember your affectionate uncle Phillips, Chioggia, August 16, 1882. Dear Mary, — Did you ever come to Chioggia? If you ever did, you are not likely to have forgotten it, for it is the queerest, dearest little place in the world. Perhaps some tirae when you have been at Venice, you have taken the stearaboat early in the raorning, and run down here and spent the day, which is what Mr. McVickar and I have done to-day. We left J ames just dressed and ready for his breakfast, meaning to have a beautfful day in Venice ; he pre ferred that to Chioggia, and we shaU raeet again to night when we get back to dinner. You have no idea how weU he is, and how he wanders around in gondo las like a Doge, and how good it has been to have him here aU these weeks. But about Chioggia. It is an old, old island, two hours from Venice, where the people fish for a living, and hardly anybody who once gets born on the island ever goes away. The harbor now is fuU of fishing-boats, with sails of red, blue, and green, with pious pictures aU over them, and picturesque fishermen dropping queer nets over the sides. The old piazza in front of the tavern where we have been eating our coilazione is f uU of men un snarling their nets and spreading them out to dry. Picturesque children are begging around the door; and a little bro-wn rascal, with nothing on but a pair of bathing trousers, is standing on his head for a cent. The garden has just got mad and thrown one of the MILAN. 201 cafe chairs into the midst of them and scattered the clamorous multitude, who are laughing at him from a safe distance. Up the street there is a joUy old church, and two funny little old lions are carved on the bridge, which crosses the canal just opposite. It is as pretty as a picture, — prettier than most, I hope you saw it the last time you were in Venice. If not, you raust be sure to come here next time. The only trouble is that you have to stay six hours, when three is quite enough ; but this gives me the chance for which I have been looking, to thank you for your letter, which was very good indeed to get. It came from Mt. Desert, which is not altogether just like Venice, but is something made out of land and water, at any rate. I like to think of you aU at Andover, where I am sure you have had a good, happy summer. I hope when you get back to dear old Boston, you will be good enough to miss rae dreadfuUy. I expect to be full of miserableness when you get this, week after next, which -will be the time when om- pleasant sum mer party is breaking up and I shaU Ijc beginning ray solitary winter. Think of me then, and how good it always used to be to get back in the autmiin and start the winter life again. I wonder if those times will ever corae back again just so. God laiows ! Let me hear often. Most affectionately, P. Hotel Continental, Milan, August 20, 1SS2. Dear William, — They have a new hotel at Milan, so we are not staying where you and I put up five years ago. I have thought very ranch about our -visit here. Indeed, the whole of the last tlu-ee weeks has reminded me of much that we did together in that 202 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. pleasant and memorable summer, Florence, Bologna, Venice, Verona, we have been to all of thera, throwing ill sorae new places, some of which I had never seen before, I think that I enjoyed the re-seeing of old places alraost, if not quite, as much as the discovery of new ones. The deepening and filling out of old im pressions is very delightful. Here our summer party begins to go to pieces, Mr, Richardson and Mr. Jacques start to-morrow morning for Marseilles and Spain, Jaraes, McVickar, and I go northward by Maggiore and the Simplon to Brieg, Martigny, Charaounix, Geneva, and Paris. Our jour ney together has been very delightful. Richardson is full of intelligence and cultivation in his own art, and Jacques is a pleasant feUow, who has raade us all like hira very rauch. We shaU raiss them both ex ceedingly. Almost no other Araericans have come in our way, I saw Mr. Augustus LoweU and his family in Venice ; and Daniel Dougherty of Phila delphia (whom you and I went once to hear lecture, — do you remeraber?) turned up in the cathedral the other day. I thank you for your good letters, and for an " Advertiser " which I received yesterday. I hope that you will give a newspaper a chance of reaching me now and then. ... P. H6rEL DE l'Empire, Paris, August 28, 1882. Dear William, — I have just been to the station to see James and McVickar off for England, whence James sails on Wednesday for America. You prob ably wiU see him before you get this letter. He will tell you about our last week, how we made a run through Switzerland, had a splendid day on the Sim- PARIS. 203 pion, crossed the Tete Noire, just as you and I did five years ago, found clouds and rain at Chamounix, so that we saw nothing there. We just stopped for dinner at Geneva and came on to Paris, which we reached early Friday morning. After three pleasant days together in Paris, they have gone this moming, and I am all alone. It has been a delightful summer, and now I feel as if my work began, A week from to-day I hope to reach Berlin, where I shaU stay for some time. I am very anxious to study, and the prospect of unlimited time for reading opens raost attractively, I do not feel as if it were a waste of time, or mere seff-indul gence, for all my thought about the work which I have done for the last twenty years, while it is very pleasant to remember, makes it seera very superficial and incomplete, I do not know that I ean make what reraains any better, but I am very glad indeed of the opportunity to try. On my way to Germany I sliaU probably meet Arthur and Lizzie, who are to be in Belgium some time this week, , , , I shaU be glad to get sight of them, but it will be very brief, liartUy more than a hand-shake with each other, I am afraid. We have seen ahnost no Americans this suramer, until we reached Paris. Yesterday, the little American church was quite fuU of thera, . , . The Winthrops were at Chamounix, and we spent an evening with them. Mr. Winthrop seenied to be enjoying his travels. Of course, everybody is anxiously watching the progress of affairs in Egypt. We know no raore about it than you do in America. But the general impres sion is that it cannot be a long affair, though the English are evidently finding Arabi's people stronger 204 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. and braver than they had expected. But any day they may coUapse, Paris is cold and rainy, not at aU the bright and sunny thing which you saw when you were here, , , , Always affectionately, P, Hano-ver, September 4, 1882. Dear William, — The great event of the last week was the meeting of the waters. Two Brooks boys, Arthur and I, came together in the ancient city of Cologne. It was Thursday evening when it hap pened ; Arthur had started that moming from May ence and come down the Rhine, the way you know, and I had started from Paris, at an awful hour, and corae aU the way through by raU, and we met in the haU of the Hotel d'HoUande at about eight o'clock p. m. We had a long talk that evening, and the next morning we went through the sights of Cologne once more. Then we took rail to Aix la Chapelle, and I saw that again in this new company, I had been there once before this year with James and McVickar. Then we went to Maestricht, where we spent the night and saw a queer cave. Then we came to Brus sels, with various experiences on the way, and once more I found myseff in that very familiar town. There we spent a very quiet, pleasant Sunday, went to church, and talked to each other a great deal. Late last night, we bade each other a long, long fareweU, This morning, I was called at haff past four, and have come to-day (passing through Cologne again) as far as here. , , , I have started my journey three or four times al ready. Now to-day it reaUy has begun. I have said good-by to ray last relative, and there is nobody else BERLIN. 205 whom I have any engagement to meet until I land in New York a year hence. I am quite alone. To-raorrow, I am going to Hildesheim and Magdeburg, and the next day to Berlin. There I shall get your letter, which I have missed this week, and which wUl be very wel come indeed. I have thanked you most heartily for all your letters, and have got to counting upon them as regularly as the week comes round. So do not ever dare to omit. , , , Everybody now is expecting an advance in Egypt, and news of a battle, anyway, France is getting very restless. There are stormy times coming in Europe, I hope you are all weU, and happy as kings and queens, or happier. My love to everybody, P, Hotel du Nord, Berlin, September 10, 1882. My dear Gertie, — This is Sunday morning. It is just after breakfast, about a quarter before nine o'clock. In a shop window on this street, I see a great big clock every time I go out. It has seven faces, and each face tells what time it is in some one of the great cities of the world. The one in the raidcUe teUs what time it is in Berlin, and aU around that are the other great cities ; it has not got North Ando ver, for that is too small ; it is not one of the great cities of the world ; but it has New York. Yester day, as I passed it about one o'clock, I saw that it was about five in New York, so I know now that it cannot be quite three in North Andover, You will not go to church for a good while yet, so will have time enough to read my letter twice before you go. I came here last AVednesday, and am going to stay 206 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. for some time. In fact, I feel as if I lived in Berlin. I send you a picture of the house, with a line drawn around my two windows. The children at the door are not you and Agnes. I wish they were. The children in Paris aU wore blouses, and the children in Venice did not wear much of anything. Here they aU wear satchels. I never saw such chil dren for going to school. The streets are f uU of them, going or coming, all the time. They are queer Uttle white-headed blue-eyed things, many of them very pretty indeed, but they grow up into dreadful-looking men and women. They wear their satchels strapped on their backs like soldiers' knapsacks, and when you see a schoofful of three hundred letting out, it is very funny. Only two houses up the street lives the Emperor. He and his wife are out of town now, or no doubt they would send some word to Toody. Affectionately your uncle Phillips. H6tel du Nord, Berlin, Sunday, September 17, 1882. Dear William, — To-day I ara going to write and teU you what I have been doing in Berlin, I have been here for ten days, and have fallen into the most regular way of living, just as ff I had been a Ber- Uner instead of a Bostonian, and had lived all my youth in the Unter den Linden instead of in Rowe Street. Do you want to know how it goes ? I get up in the morning and breakfast at eight o'clock ; then I go to my room, which is very bright and pleasant, where I have a lot of books and a good table, at which I am writing now. Here I stay until eleven or twelve, reading and studying, mostly German ; then BERLIN. 207 I go out, see a sight or two, and make calls until it is two o'clock. Then I go to Dr. Seidel, my teacher, and take a lesson, reading German with him for two hours. Then it is dinner-time, for every body in Berlin dines very early. They have North Andover fashions here. Four o'clock is the table d'hote time at our hotel, and that is rather late. After dinner I get about two hours more of reading in ray room, and when it is dark I go out and caU on some body, or find some interesting public place until bed- tirae. Is not that a quiet, regular life ? The people here to whom I had letters have been kind and civil, so far as they were in town ; but Berlin ways are very like Boston ways, and the peo ple whom one would Uke to see are largely at North Andover or Nahant. The family of which I have seen most is Baron von Bunsen's. He is a son of the old Bunsen of whom one hears so much in the last generation, is a very cultivated, inteUigent gentleman, a member of the German Parliament, and an excel lent scholar. He has a charming family, and a de lightful house in the new part of Berlin, which is very beautifid. He has given me a good deal of time, going to museums, etc., and I have been several tiraes at his house. Tuesday I am to dine there and go with them to see SchiUer's " William TeU." The theatre here is such a different thing frora what it is with us. It is like a sort of lecture. It begins at half past six and is out before ten. Ladies corae unattended. Some of them sit and knit. The whole thing is as quiet as a sewing-circle, and quite free from any of the air of dissipation that belongs to theatre-going in America. Of course there are the other kind of theatres, but I speak of the best sort, 208 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. and those which Government maintains. One night I went to see " Hamlet " in German. The acting was poor, but the audience was interesting. Besides the Bunsens I have seen a good deal of Dr, Abbott, who has been settled here for forty years, and knows Berlin through and through. Last night I dined with him at the Zoological Garden, and saw a pretty picture of Berlin life. To-morrow I am going out to dine at Wansee (which seeras to be a sort of Berlin Brookline) with Baron von der Heydt, who is going to have some of the Court preachers to meet me. A good many other people have called on me, and talked about Gerraan things and people ; so that I see all I want to see of folks, and the days are only too short. Unfortunately, the university is closed, and the professors are all off on vacations, so that I miss many men whom I should like to see. Indeed, I fear the universities all through Germany meet so late, that if I go to India the first of December I shaU be able to see very little of the professors and to hear hardly any lectures. But I am counting much on In dia. Yesterday I met Lord Anithill, the British min ister here, and he offered to give me letters to the Earl of Eipon, who is Governor-General of India, and to other people there, which will insure me the chance to see whatever is going on. What a tremendous vic tory Wolseley has gained this week ! Now Arabi will not block my way. Do you remember the little statuettes from Tanagra which are in our Art Museum ? There are a great many here and I am much interested in them. Yes terday I found some capital reproductions of them, and bought three, which are to be sent you by maU, WeU, my paper is full, aud though I could go on a WITTENBERG. 209 week about Berlin, I stop, I am just going down to preach at a Uttle American chapel which is here, I shall stay about a week longer, and then travel through Germany, , , . P. Wittenberg, Sunday, September 24, 1882. My dear Agnes, — I was glad to get your letter, which reached me a few days ago in Berlin. I think you were very good indeed to write rae, and it was a nice letter. , , . Did you ever hear of Wittenberg ? You wiU find it on the map, not very far from Berlin, It used to be a very faraous place when Martin Luther Uved here, and was preaching his serraons in the church whose clock I just now heard strike a quarter of one, and was writing his books in the room whose picture is at the top of this sheet of paper. I am sure you know all about Luther. If not, ask Toody, she knows most everything. In the picture, you can see Luther's table, the seat in the window where he and his wife used to sit and talk, the big stove which he had built to warra his cold roora, and the bust of him self, which was taken just after he died, and hung up here. With the exception of that, everything remains just exactly as he left it, over three hundred years ago, before your papa, mamma, or aunt Susan were born. It is a queer old town. Just now, when it was twelve o'clock, I heard some music, and looked out and found that a band of music was playing psalm tunes away up in the air in the tower of the old parish church. My window looks out on the market-place, where there are two statues, one of Luther, and one of Melanchthon, who was a great friend of his. Ger tie wiU teU you a,bout him. And the houses are 210 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, the funniest shape, and have curious mottoes carved or painted over their front door. I came here from Berlin yesterday, and ara going to travel about in Gerraany for a few weeks, and then go back to Berlin again. Berlin is very nice, I wish I could teU you about a visit which I raade, Friday, to one of the great public schools, where I saw a thousand boys and a thousand girls, and the way they spelt the hard words in German would have frightened you to death, TeU Susie that I thank her for her beautiful Uttle letter, and hope she wiU write me another. You must write to me again. Give my best love to everybody, and do not forget your affectionate uncle P. Fbankfurtbrhof, Sunday, October 1, 1882. Dear William, — , , , I arrived here late last night, after spending the whole week on a journey from Berlin. It was a sort of Luther journey, for I went to Eisleben, where he was born and died ; Mans- feld, where he was brought up ; Erfurt, where he went to school ; Wittenberg, where he was professor ; Eisenach and the Wartburg, where he was a prisoner ; Gotha, Weimar, HaUe, where he preached ; ancl Mar burg, where he had his great disputation with Zwin- gli. Here in Frankfort there is a house of his. just opposite the Dom, which, by the way, they have fin ished repairing and have re-opened. I went to service there this morning, before I went to the little EngUsh chapel where you and I went five years ago. Besides these Luther visits, I had a pleasant day at HaUe, with Professor Conrad, professor of political economy, to whom I had a note of introduction, who was very ci-vil, showing me aU over the university and telling me aU that I wanted to know about it and HEIDELBERG. 211 the students. There, too, it is vacation. None of the universities begin until the middle of October, and many of them not until the first of November, so that I shaU not get rauch of them. I am now on my way to Heidelberg, where I hope to stay some tirae, prob ably two or three weeks, so think of rae as there when you get this. I enjoyed Berlin exceedingly, and found the people most courteous and obliging. In deed, I made some friends there, especiaUy the Bun- sens, whom I was very sorry to leave. I may possibly get back there, but it is not likely. India draws near. I received a letter from the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company last week, saying they had re served a berth for me on the steamer which leaves Venice the first day of December, All this about myself. I wonder how it is with you aU, Are you drowned out ? And is General Butler going to be Govemor of Massachusetts ? I have had no letters this week, but shaU get thera at Heidelberg. Auturan is here and you are aU getting back. I wish I could look in on Boston for a day. . , . Ever affectionately, P, Heidelberg, October 8, 1882. Dear William, — I suppose that Bishop Williams is preaching to-day at Trinity, so you are all consider ably better off than if your own dear pastor were at home. , , , It has been a very pleasant week for me, but not an eventful one. On Monday I went to Giessen and saw the miiversity and one or two of the professors. It is one of the smaUer universities, but a very in teresting one. Then I went to AA^orms, which I had seen before, but at which I wanted to get another look 212 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. that I niight see some things relating to Luther. From there I came to beautiful Heidelberg, and have been here since Tuesday night. You saw Heidelberg, and know something of how beautiful it is. Just now the hiU on which the castle stands is one mass of splendid color ; almost as bright as anything that one sees in our American woods are the trees in this vaUey of the Neckar. I have my German teacher here and the use of a library, where I go every day, so I am far from being idle. Here probably I shaU stay through this week, and then begin slowly to work back to Ber lin, where I want to get a week or two more before I start for the south, Egypt looks now as if one might find his way through, but there are great difficulties to be over come before the question of its government is settled, and aU Europe is such a tinder-box that a general war may be lighted at any moment. Just at present it does not seem as if any of the great powers wanted much to fight. Certainly Germany does not. The general feeling among her people seems to be a sort of dull disappointment wdth the results of the last war. It has not brought the country either the wealth or the freedora that they hoped. Gerraany is poor, and Bisraarck's watchful and jealous eye is on everything. The people are proud of their splendid array, but they feel the drain of it tremendously. . , , There -wiU be no war this winter, and I shaU go to India as quietly as possible in December, You must be just about getting up in Boston, Good-morn ing to you all ! Most affectionately, P. WURTZBURG. 218 Wurtzburg, October 15, 18,*2. My dear Gertie, — I owe you a letter ; indeed, I am afraid that I owe you raore than one, but we won't be very particular about that. You shaU -write as often as you can, and so wiU I, and then we wiU caU it square.You ought to have a great deal raore to say than I, because Boston is a great deal livelier place than Wurtzburg, and besides you have lived in Boston aU your life, and know lots of people there whom I should like to hear about (including Susie), while I have been here only since yesterday, and know but one person ; and you would not care to hear about him, for he is only a stupid old professor. But you would like to go clown the queer old streets and see the funny houses ; ancl you would have liked to see the big church crowded with people, that I saw this afternoon, and heard them sing as if they would shake all the carved and painted saints down off the waUs. I wish that once before I die I could hear the people sing like that in Trinity Church in Boston. But I never shaU. It was a great day in the church here to-day, because it was the thousandth anniversary of the death of the man who built the first church here long before you were born, and so they had a great procession, and went down into the crypt under the church, where he is buried, and sung a Te Deum. I wish you had been there with me. Then there is a tremendous great palace where the bishops used to live. . . . Nobody Uves there now, be cause bishops are not such great people as they used to be ; but you can go through it aU, and see the splendid rooms, and there is the loveUest old garden behind it, -with fountains and statues and beautiful 214 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. old trees, where the people go and walk about on pleasant afternoons, and a band plays. If you and I ever spend an afternoon in Wurtzburg, we wiU go there, I wonder if you have been at Trinity to-day, and who preached, and whether you know the text, and whether Sunday-school has begun. I am on my way from Heidelberg to Berlin. After I have stayed there for a week or two, I shaU go to Dresden and Prague and Vienna and Venice, and I have got a ticket to saU in the Poonah from Venice for Bombay on the first day of December. It is not as pretty a name as the Ser-via, and the ship is only about haff as big ; but she is a very good vessel, and I have no doubt she -wiU get out there safely before Christmas. I wish you would come to Venice and see rae off, as you did to New York. Good-night and pleasant dreams. Give ray love to everybody and don't forget Your affectionate uncle Phillips, H6tel du Nord, Berlin, October 22, 1882. Dear William, — Just think of its being four months ago yesterday since you saw the Servia sail. More than a quarter of my long vacation gone. Why, I shaU be walking in on you before you know it ! And when I hear the report of the first Sunday of October at Trinity, and aU about Bishop Beckwith' s long and eloquent sermon, it seems as if I were within speaking distance of you aU the time. I reached here yesterday, after one of the pleasantest journeys I have ever made. Now it seems like getting home, to come to this farailiar Berlin again. The folks seem to recognize me upon the .streets, and aU the BERLIN. 215 swell guards about the royal palace looked as if they wanted to salute me, but were not quite sure that it was right, I spent three days this last week at Leip sic, It is a very curious to-wn, fuU of business, I be lieve, but apparently given up to music and education. The hosts of students on the streets, and the multi tudes of concerts everywhere, seem to shut out every thing else, I actuaUy went to two concerts myseff, one of them a high Wagner affair, with the raost se lect and high-toned musical audience. I thought I should be glad to see what it was like, and I was sur prised to find that I rather liked it. I saw one or two professors, who were very civU, and showed me all there was to see. It is rather a depressing place, I think, to one who is conscious of knowing nothing in particular, and having only a general smattering of a lot of things. Everybody there is a specialist. One man is giving hiraseff up to Arabic, another to San skrit, another to cuneiform inscriptions, and another to a particular sort of bug. So every man has some subject, on which he talks you out of your deptli in half a minute. It must be a delightful thing to think that you know anything, however sraall, through and through. If I were twenty-five years yoimger, and not minister of Trinity Church, I should go to Leip sic and stay there till I knew something, so that no scholar in the world could puzzle me. Then I would come home and go into general life with that one lit tle corner of omniscience always kept to faU back upon when I was reminded in some one of the ways (in which I am constantly reminded) of what an igno ramus I am. But it is no use now. And I must go on with my basket of broken victuals to the end. So you are back in Boston, and the siunraer was a 216 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. great success. I am very glad of it. Who knows but some day the old Andover house may be our suramer home, as a fixed thing, with a pretty little establish ment that will make summer as domestic and regular a tirae as winter. It would certainly not be bad, I ara glad the children were pleased with the book, I thought they raight like it. ... Affectionately, P. H6tbl du Nord, Berlin, October 29, 1882. Dear William, — How the weeks go, don't they ? It seeras impossible that seven days have slipped by since I wrote you last Sunday. But they have, and they have been very pleasant ones here. Delightful weather, — a sort of Indian summer, such as we used to look for in Boston, and never quite knew whether we had it or not. I can hear father and aunt Susan at the old table in Eowe Street, debating about it now, Berlin is quite different on my return from what it was when I left it. The people are back, the streets are crowded, and everything is in fuU blast. The university lectures began last Monday, and there are no end of them all the time. It is the freest sort of institution. The doors of every lecture-room stand wide open, and any stranger raay go in. This week I have been like a coUege student, going to hear what the great men have to say about theology and other things. I have German enough now to follow a lec ture quite satisfactorily, and you do not know how I enjoy it. Of course I have not taken up any sys tematic course of attendance. My time is too short for that. I only roara round and pick up what I can and fill it out with reading frora the books of the sarae men, a good many of whieh I have. There are four BERLIN. Ill thousand other students here in Berlin, so that one can go and come in the great university quite as he pleases, and be entirely unnoticed. A good many people who were away when I was here before have come back, so that I have as much social life as I want. The Bunsens have gone to Eng land, but Dr. Abbott is here. I go there when I feel like it, and always meet pleasant people. Then there is a certain Dr. Kapp, who used to live in New York, and is now a member of Parliament here, who has been very civil; Professor Hermann Grimm, who wrote the Life of Michael Angelo and other things, and one of the university provosts. Dr. Gneist, who styles himseff on his card " Oherverwaltungsgerichts- rath" — that's his title. It is very pleasant to see how quietly and simply these scholars live, and what cordial, earnest folks they are. I have also seen something of the ministers, but I do not think I like thera so much as the scholars, German religion seems to be eaten up with controversy, and is hampered everywhere by its connection with the state. There is a certain Pastor Stocke here, at whose house I have been, who is the political character of the town, . , , He and the rest are doing very good work among the poor. They have just been having an election for raerabers of the Eeichstag, or Parliaraent, which has been very interesting to foUow in the papers and in the talk of the people, though one saw nothing to indicate elec tion day in the streets. This week I leave here for good, and go to Dresden, where I shaU get a week for art. The beautifid gal lery there I have never thoroughly seen. I shall have my books too, and do sorae studying. Then Vienna, 218 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. where there are splendid pictures also, then Venice and India. My heart stood stiU for a minute the other day when I opened the paper which you sent me and saw " Trinity Church on Fire." When I found that they had put it out and that it was only going to cost the Corporation |50, I sang a smaU Te Deum, and con cluded to go on with my journey. Thank you for aU your letters. They always teU me just what I want to know, and cheer rae iraraensely, , . . , . . Think of me on Thanksgiving Day in Venice. I shall think of you and wish that we were all in Clarendon Street. My love to M and the chil dren. Affectionately, P, Hotel du Nord, Berlin, October 30, 1882. Johnny dear, — I don't want to break up my life in Berlin, as I shaU in a few days, without writing to you from what has become very like home to me. How I wish you were here this morning. First, we would have a quiet after-breakfast smoke and talk, then we would put on our hats and stroU across the street to the university, where there are some forty lecture-rooms, a professor hard at work in each of thera, and the whole thing open to anybody who chooses to drop in. We could hear Dillman firing away at the Old Testament, Weiss exegesing on St. Luke's Gospel, Pfleiderer discoursing on the Philosophy of Religion, or Steinmeyer haranguing on Church His tory. Hengstenberg is dead, and so is Baumgarten- Crusius, your friend. There are plenty more of them left, and if we grew tired of Berlin to-day, why we could run down to Leipsic to-morrow, where the the- BERLIN. 219 ology is rather richer than it is here, and where we could hear Luthardt and Delitzsch. We should not understand all that these men said, but a great deal of it would be clear enough, and there would be lots to think and talk about when we came out. Then after an hour or two of this we would go into the Thiergar- ten, the most fascinating park in Europe, and perfectly delightful on these Indian suniraer days. There we would wander about and talk some more. We would corae horae to a queer dinner at four o'clock, and, if you liked, at half past six we could go to the thea tre and see a play of SchiUer, or, if you preferred, go to see sorae pleasant people, who are abundant and always hospitable in this cheerful, busy town. Then we 'd corae home and sraoke and talk sorae raore ever so late. You must come quickly, or we cannot do this, because I am starting Wednesday, — bound for Dresden, Vienna, and Venice, whence I saU on the 1st of December. It has all been very delightful and wholly different from any experience which I have ever had before in Europe. I shall reraeraber Berlin and raany of the people in it with delight. There are hosts of Amer ican students here, but they hide themselves in Ger man families as mueh as possible, and one sees little of them. There is much work being done, and the thoroughness of their real scholars makes me feel aviffuUy superficial and ashamed. I am delighted to hear how very successful your house and your suramer have been. I hope that they have put you in splendid condition for the winter, , , . Another year I shaU be there again, aud mean while you wiU teU me aU about it, won't you? I think the beauty of being here for a while is that it 220 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. raakes the things at home which really are worth caring for seem aU the more precious. Now I am going out to hear a lecture, then I shall go into the Gallery for an hour, then take a German lesson, and get a little more of this good place before I leave it. Think of me often, and be sure I think of you, . . , My love to Hattie and the babies. Ever affectionately, P, H5tel Belle-vue, Dresden, November 5, 1882. Dear William, — The scene is changed, and this is Dresden, instead of Berlin. I left that big town for good on Thursday, and shall not see it again ; but I have had a first-rate tirae there, and shaU remember it most pleasantly. Dresden is prettier than BerUn, and the Sistine Madonna is over there in the Museum, so I am enjoying a few days here very rauch indeed. I get a good deal of time for reading my German, and am just beginning to get up the books on India, which iiow seeras to be drawing very near. I have no friends here, except one or two families, to whom my Berlin friends introduced me, but that does not so much raatter for a few days. Robert Cushing and his faraily are staying in this hotel. Henry Potter, his -wife and three children, are living in town, I dined with thera last night. This raorn ing I preached at the American church, and this evening I have promised to preach for the Scotch Presbyterians, so it is rather more like Sunday than any first day of the week that I have passed for a good while. I shall leave here probably Wednesday, and after stopping a few days in Prague, shall go to Vienna, where I hope to make a considerable stay. PRAGUE. 221 Think of me there when you get this letter. Of course you have seen the terrible accounts of the floods on the southern side of the Tyrolese mountains. Among their smaUer mischiefs, they make the access to Ven ice very uncertain, so that I am not quite sure how I shaU get at ray stearaer. I shaU get there somehow, probably by rail from Vienna to Trieste, and thence by sea to Venice, Your last letter brought things at home up to the 16th of October. Perry had just preached in Trin ity, Does it not seem strange to think how long ago it was that he used to be -with Dr. Vinton at St. Paul's, and that we are the same feUows as the boys who used to listen to him there ? The minister of the Araerican church, for whora I preached to-day, is a Mr. Caskey, who succeeded Arthur in WiUiams- port. What a time we would have before the Ma donna to-morrow, if you were only here ; the concerts and operas in Dresden are tremendous. No matter ; some day when I get back we wUl go to the Art Mu seum and the Music HaU together, and make believe that it is pretty Uttle Dresden, , , . Prague, November 12, 1882. . . . You never saw Prague, did you ? You must some day. It is iraraensely curious and picturesque. It is Austrian, and Austria is poor stuff by the side of Germany, Austria really seems to be no nation at aU, raade up as it is of a heap of people and languages, which have no association with each other. Germany has ideas, and a great notion of her future, and of having a mission in the world. AU that raakes her interesting. Austria has nothing of the kind, and her petty tyranny is endless. These riots in Vienna are 222 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. signs of what a suppressed and discontented life her people lead. But still she is worth seeing, and for two weeks I shaU be on her soil. Thanksgiving Day I spend in Venice, and the next day the Poonah saUs, so think of me as you eat your turkey, dining at Dani- elis, and direct your letters after you get this, untU further notice, to the care of Messrs. Lang, Moir & Co., Bombay. Will you do an errand for me? Will you go into Williams's and get two copies of my " Influence of Jesus " and send them to some Berlin friends, to whom I have promised thera ? Grand Hotel, Vienna, November 19, 1882. Very private ! ! Dear Gertie, — This letter is an a-wful secret be tween you and me. If you teU anybody about it, I -wiU not speak to you all this winter. And this is what it is about. You know Christmas is coming, and I am afraid that I shall not get home by that time, and so I want you to go and get the Christmas presents for the children. The grown people wiU not get any from me this year. But I do not want the chUdren to go -with out, so you must find out, in the most secret way, just what Agnes Jmd Toodie would most like to have, and get it and put it in their stockings on Christmas Eve. Then you must ask yourself what you want, but with out letting yourseff know about it, and get it too, and put it in your own stocking, and be very much sur prised when you find it there. And then you must sit down and think about Josephine De Woff and the other baby at Springfield whose name I do not know, and consider what they would Uke, and have it sent VIENNA. 223 to them in time to reach them on Christmas Eve. Will you do all this for me ? You can spend five dol lars for each child, and if you show your father this letter, he wiU give you the money out of some of mine which he has got. That rather breaks the secret, but you wiU want to consult youi- father and mother about what to get, especiaUy for the Springfield children ; so you may tell them about it, but do not dare to let any of the children know of it until Christmas time. Then you can teU me in your Christraas letter just how you have managed about it all. , . , This has taken up almost all ray letter, and so I cannot tell you rauch about Vienna. WeU, there is not a great deal to tell. It is an immense great city with very splendid houses and beautiful pictures and fine shops and handsome people. But I do not think the Austrians are nearly as nice as the ugly, honest Germans. Do you ? Perhaps you will get this on Thanksgiving Day. If you do, you must shake the turkey's paw for me, and tell him that I am very sorry I coidd not come this year, but I shall be there next year certain ! Give my love to all the children. I had a beautifid letter from aunt Susan the other day, which I ara going to answer as soon as it stops raining. TeU her so, if you see her. Be a good girl, and do not study too hard, and keep our secret. Your affectionate uncle Phillips. Grand Hotel, Vienna, November 22, 1882. Dear aunt Sus.vn, — No letter since I left home has given me more pleasure than yours which I re ceived a week ago. It took me back into North An dover, and raade rae feel as if we were aU in the little 224 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. parlor, and the Austrian town which I could see out of the window were aU a dream. You were very good indeed to keep your promise, and I hope I shaU hear frora you more than once again before I drive up to the side yard door next autumn. . . , We had a smaU snowstorm here yesterday, and to-day the hills around Vienna are all white with snow. I wish you could escape the -winter, as I mean to do, by running down into countries where the only trouble about winter weather is the heat. The second week in December, when you get this, and when the whole of North Andover is shivering with cold, we shall be running down the Red Sea and trying to get into the shade of anything to keep ourselves cool, and looking over the side of the Poonah to see if we can see any of Pharaoh's chariot-wheels. It is eighteen years since I was in Vienna, on my first European journey. Then I was on my way to Palestine. One difference between that year abroad and this I feel all the time. Then the old home in Chauncy Street was still there, and father and mother were both waiting to hear what one was doing, and one of my pleasures was to write to them and to think how I would teU thera all about it when I got back. I miss aU that part of the interest of travel very much now. Sometimes it is hard to reaUze that they are not stiU there, and that I am not to write to them. At this distance all that has come since I was here before seems like a dream. I hope by Christraas that the window in their mem ory will be in the little church, Williara writes me that it is getting on, and I shaU be glad to know that it is fairly in its place. I hope it wiU be there for years to keep people reminded of them. You must tell VENICE. 225 me how you like it when it is up. It seems as ff we came pretty near losing Trinity Church lately by fire. It would have been a pretty hard thing to have to go to work and build it all up again. As it is, they seem to be having trouble with it in the way of repairs, I hope your new church wiU tempt no incendiaries and meet no accidents. If I were in Boston I would corae up to Andover this afternoon. But as I ara in Vienna, I can only send this letter to tell you I am thinking of you. My best love to aunt Sarah and aunt Caroline. Your affectionate nephew Phillips, Venice, November 26, 1882. Dear William, — It is a rainy Sunday in Venice, which, as you may imagine, is not a very cheerfid thing. The gondolas are dripping at the quay out side, and San Giorgio looks duU and dreary through the mists. , , . Now that I have come home, and have got a fire in my room, spread out my German books, and lighted my pipe, everything is cheerful inside, however dreary the outside may be. I have just come here to get a few quiet days of Venice, before the Poonah sails. She is here, lying in the harbor ; and I have been on board and looked her over. She is a beautiful, great vessel, with a big, broad deck and a bright, pleasant cabin, looking as if she might be a capital home for three weeks. . . . My stateroom is on deck, with air aU around it, and I have it to myseff, so I am counting very much upon my voyage. How I wish you were going to take it with me ! What delightful days and nights we would have down the Red Sea and across the Indian Ocean ! The officers of the ship say that at this season the ther- 226 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. mometer does not go above seventy, even in the Red Sea, and that there is never any chance of bad weather in December between Suez and Bombay. It seems to be the very perfection of ship life. . . , I had a very good tirae in Vienna, where I stayed about a week. I do not think I like the city much, certainly not as well as Berlin. But then I knew none of the people, which made a difference. The Brimmers were there part of the time, and it was pleasant to see them. Also Judge Endicott and his family, who were at the hotel aU the time I was there, I am very sorry Mr. Briraraer could not go to India, , . , I shaU go alone now, unless possibly a young collegian of this last class at Carabridge, a friend of Arthur's, Evert WendeU, should go on the sarae stearaer. I saw hira in Berlin, and he wants to go and has sent to ask his father's leave. , , , The Venetians are going to have a great fete and concert to-night and to-raorrow in the piazza, for the benefit of the sufferers by the fioods. A month ago the whole ground floor of this hotel was three feet under water. I wish you would go to India -with me, . , . Steamship Poonah, lying at Brindisi, Sunday, December 3, 1882. Dear William, — ... The Poonah is an old ship, rather noisy, not at aU fast, and not very clean. But she is weU arranged, and in good weather must be very pleasant. The sail frora Venice to Brindisi has been cold, rough, and rainy. The Adriatic has behaved badly. We could not touch at Ancona, which is on the programme, because of the rough weather. This Sunday morning is bright, but cold IN THE SUEZ CANAL. 227 and -windy ; not a bit of .suggestion of the tropics yet. In a day or two we shaU get it, and I only hope we shaU not get too much. The people on the Poonah, so far, are not very interesting, but they are only a few. The best are supposed to come on board here at Brindisi, having come by rail from London, so I hope when we sail to-morrow morning, we shaU find our selves in the midst of that delightful society which the voyage to India has always been said to furnish. Young Wendell is on board, having turned up at the last moment in Venice. He raakes bright, pleasant company, and we shaU probably be together through India. Thanksgiving Day passed quietly in Venice. I did not preach, or even go to church, except to pay a fare well visit to St. Mark's. I dined with the AVaUeys. They are staying in Venice, keeping house in an apart ment, and asked me to dine with them. W(^ had a turkey, and did the best we could to keep Thanks giving, and it went off well. , , . Think of the Poonah, when you get this, as paddling across the Indian Ocean, and wave your hat in that direction. I shaU see it and wave mine back. A happy Christmas to you all. Now I am going on shore to see Brindisi. Steamship Poonah, in the Suez Canal, December 9, 1882, Dear Johnny, — You do not know what a queer- looking thing tliis big ditch is, with the long stretches of sand reaching out on either side, and the curious effects of light everywhere in the distance, and the superb blue sky, and our great steamer slowly plodding alona; at about six miles an hour towards the Red Sea. 228 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. And inside the steamer it is just as queer, a host of wild-looking ruffians for sailors, and a lot of English men. It Is all very pleasant and foreign. I have been up on deck aU the morning, looking at the strange figures who occasionaUy appear on the banks, watching the stearaboats which pass us every now and then, and talking with the Englishraen who are men tioned above. I have got a little tired of it aU, so I thought I would corae down into the cabin and send you a greeting which I will mail to-night at Suez, and which you -will get almost, if not quite, in time to wish you a Merry Christmas ! What are you doing ? Every now and then there comes some glimpse of the old life going on at home. Sermons and convocations and clubs, and the winter season with its work gradually thickening around you. . . . I wonder who will be up to the raark of honestly admiring A. V. G. AUen's remarkable paper in the " Princeton Review," and seeing how the change which he has described so ably is every whit as important and significant as the reforraation of three hundred years ago. Surely the club and the church ought to be proud of the raan who wrote the article. Have you got some good carols for Christmas, and a good text for your Christmas sermon ? I feel al most like writing one myself and asking some Hindoo in Bombay to lend me his mosque in which to preach it. I hope you went to the December club, and that it was a success. I shall hear aU about it in India and wiU tell Chunder Sen. We are getting to Ismailia, and I must go up on deck and see. Good-by. A Merry Christmas and God bless you to you and Hattie and the children. Ever affectionately, P. SUEZ. 229 Suez, Sunday Moming, December 10, 1882. Dear William, — We are just tying up to the wharf in Suez, and nobody seeras to know how long we are to stay before we start on our voyage down the Red Sea. I wUl write ray Sunday letter at once, and tell you that I have corae thus far in happiness, health, and safety, and in the Poonah. I sent Gertie a postal card the other day from Alexandria, which I hope she wiU excuse. I ara not in the habit of sending postal cards, but there was no other way. We were only there for a very short time and all the time we hacl was spent on shore. It was curious to see the results of the war so close at hand. The great square of Alexandria is aU in ruins, and looks Uke Liberty Square in Boston after the great fire. The forts which brought on the bombardment are all banged to pieces, and the gmis are standing on their heads. There must have been some wonderful firing on the English men's part. Then we sailed over to Port Said, the steamer roll ing about badly in the long swell. There was plenty of room at the dinner-table on Thursday. Port Said looks as I remeraber seeing Lawrence look when father took us there from grandmother's, one day when we were boys. It is an extemporized town of shanties and cheap buildings, -wdth everything to seU, which it is supposed that uncomfortable and extravagant travelers wiU buy. Only the population does not look like Lawrence people. They are brown Egyptians and Nubians as black as coals, and a few British soldiers with white pith helmets and red coats. The sail down the canal has been delightful. The air was fresh and bright as spring, yet had the warmth of siunmer in it. The atmosphere was delightful, and 230 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. though we sometimes ran between high banks of sand, which hid everything, most of the time the view was made up of long stretches of desert, reaching away to distant hiUs, with effect of light and color on them, all which were beautiful. This morning I saw out of my stateroom window a glorious sunrise, just such as the children of Israel raust have seen on their famous trip from Egypt into Palestine some years ago. We passed yesterday Ismailia, where the British headquarters were this autumn, and saw the way they started to Tel El Kebir. And there we heard of the verdict in Arabi's case, about which nobody seemed to care. Now we reaUy start upon our voyage. Up to this point has been raere preparation. Here the passengers for Australia and Calcutta leave us, and we take on board the passengers for Bombay, who have come all the way by sea from London. We shall be quite a new company. We have lost two or three days by ha-ving to go through the canal, and shall not be in Bombay certainly before the 22d, perhaps not till later. I like the ship, the people, the life on board, and aU is going beautifuUy. Merry Christmas to you all. . . , On the Poonah, December 15, 1882. Dear William, — I write my Sunday letter this week on Friday, because to-night we are to arrive at Aden, and there can mail our epistles. There will not be another chance until we come to Bombay. All this week we have been running down the Red Sea. The weather has been sultry and oppressive ; not par ticularly hot by the thermometer, but such weather as raakes one want to get in a draft and do nothing. In the great cabin, the punkas are hung up, long cloth fans, whieh are fastened to a rod that runs along ON THE POONAH. 231 the ceiling over the dining-table ; every meal-time they are kept swinging by a long cord, which runs through the skylight, and is attached at the other end to a small Moharamedan on deck, who pulls, and puUs, and puUs. We could hardly Uve without it. This morning we were passing Mocha, where the coffee comes frora, and this afternoon we shaU go through Bab-el-Mandel. When we are once out into the Indian Ocean, the special sultriness of the Red Sea wiU be over, and we shaU have a week of charming sailing. The ship is very corafortable, but she is old and slow. She is four days behind her time, and we shaU not be at Bombay before Saturday, the 23d, raore than three weeks from the time we left Venice. But it has been very pleasant. There is a raiscellaneous and interesting corapany on board. Here is the general who led the cavalry charge at Tel El Kebir, and is coming back frora England after being decorated by the Queen. Here is Lord Charles Beresford, who ran his boat up under the guns at Alexandria at the tirae of the bombardment, and did wonders of bravery. Here is a young Carabridge parson, going out to a missionary brotherhood at Delhi. Here are inerehants of Calcutta and Madias, whom one punipis continuaUy for inforraation about India, — EngUshmen, aU of them. At Borabay we shall break up, and I sup pose I sliaU stay there about a week, and then tra\-el by Delhi, Jeypore, Agra, Lucknow, AUahabad, and Benares to Calcutta, taking about a month, bringing us to Calcutta about the 1st of February. A week there, a week's trip to the mountains, and a two weeks' journey to Madras and its neighborhood, wiU bring us to Ceylon about the 1st of jNIarch ; after a week there we sail again, direct for Aden aud Suez. So 232 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. there is our winter. And you can teU about where we are at any time. . . . There is a long gap in letters. The last was yours, which reached me just as I went on board at Venice, The next will not come until the steamer after ours reaches Bombay, but I ara sure you are aU weU and happy, and getting ready for Christmas in the old cheerful fashion. I shall think of you aU that day, as I sit sweltering in church at Bombay, Ever affectionately, P, Bombay, Sunday, December 24, 1882. Dear William, — In India at last ! And you do not know how queer and beautiful it is. I wiU teU you about it. On Friday night, at eleven o'clock, the slow old Poonah dropped her anchor in the harbor opposite the Apollo Bandar, which is the landing- place of Bombay. That night we slept on board, but by six the next morning we were in a boat and being rowed to shore, where we had a jolly good breakfast at Watson's Hotel. While we were eating it, two gentlemen sent in their cards. One was Mr. George A. Kittredge, who is the head of the Tramway Sys tem here. The other gentleman was Mr. Charles Lowell, who is a son of the Rev. Dr. LoweU, who used to be at St. Mark's School. These two gentlemen insisted on taking charge of us during our stay in Bombay. Lowell is in the banking business here. We were immediately carried to his bungalow, and here I write to you. Fancy an enormous house, rambling into a series of immense rooms, aU on one floor, piazzas twenty feet deep, immense charabers (in the middle of which stand the beds), doors and windows wide open, the BOMBAY. 233 grounds flUed with palms, bananas, and aU sorts of tropical trees, the song of birds, the chirp of insects everywhere, and a dazzUng sun blazing down on the Indian Ocean in front. A dozen or more dusky Hin doo servants, barefooted, dressed in white, with bright sashes around their waists and bright turbans on their heads, are rao-ving about everywhere, as stiU as cats, and with no end of devotion to their little duties. One of them seems to have nothing to do but to look after me ; he has worked over ray liraited wardrobe tiU he knows every shirt and coUar better than I do myseff. He is now brushing my hat for the tweffth time this morning. The life is luxurious. Quantities of de lightful fruit, cool lounging-places, luxurious chairs, a suraptuous breakfast (or "tiffin," as we call it here), and dinner table, and no end of kind attention. I ara writing in my room on the day before Christraas as if it were a rather hot August raorning at home. Yesterday, we drove about the town and began our sight of Indian wonders : Hindoo teraples, wdth their squatting ugly idols ; Mahoraraedan mosques ; bazaars thronged with every Eastern race ; splendid English buildings where the country is ruled ; a noble univer sity ; Parsee merchants in their shops ; great tanks with the devotees bathing in them ; officers' bungalows, with the handsome English feUows lounging about ; wedding processions, with the bride of six years old riding on the rielfly decorated horse behind the bride groom of ten, sun-ounded by their friends, and with a tumult of horrible rausic ; markets overrimning with strange and delicious fruits ; wretched-looking saints chattering gibberish and begging alras, — there is no end to the interest and curiosity of it all ! And this is dead -winter in the tropics. I have out aU my thin- 234 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. nest clothes, and go about with an umbrella to keep off the sun. This morning, we started at haff past six for a walk through the sacred part of the native to-wn, and now at ten it is too hot to walk any raore till sun down. But there are carriages enough, and by and by we go to church. I was invited to preach at the cathedral, but declined. We shaU be in and about Bombay for about a week. You must not think that we shaU suffer from the heat. This is the hottest place that we shall visit. As soon as we leave here we shaU be in the hUls, and by ancl by shall see the thermoraeter at zero. How I shall think of you to-raorrow ! It is holidays here, and our friends have nothing to do but to look after us. Banks close for four days ! Good-by, my love to you aU always. Bombay, Tuesday, December 26. Do you care to know how we spent Christmas ? I wiU teU you. We arose in the cool of the morning at six o'clock. After we had a cup of tea, some fruit and bread and butter, the open carriage was at the door, and we put on our pith helmets to keep off the sun, and drove away. First we went to the Jain hospital for animals. The Jains are a curious sect of Hin doos, and one of their ideas is the sacredness of ani mal life. So they have this great hospital, where they gather aU the sick and wounded animals they can find, and cure them if they can, or keep them tiU they die. The broken-legged cows, sick pigeons, mangy dogs, and melancholy monkeys are very curious. We stayed there a whUe, and then drove to the Parsee burial- place. The Parsees are Persian sun-worshipers, who have been settled here for centuries, and are among BOMBA Y. 235 the most intelligent and enterprising citizens. Their pleasant way of disposing of their dead is to leave a body on a high tower, where vultures devoted to that business corae, and in about an hour consurae aU its flesh, leaving the bones, which, after four weeks of drying in the sun, are tumbled into a common pit, where they all crumble together into dust. You see the towers with the vultures waiting on top for the next arrival, but no one is aUowed to enter. Then we came home and had our breakfast, after which we drove into the town, whence I sent a telegrara of " Merry Christmas " to you at eleven o'clock. We went to the service at the Cathedral, which was very good. , , , Then I drove out to the Governraent House, where the Governor, Sir James Fergusson, had invited me to lunch. Very pleasant people weie theie, and the whole thing was interesting. The drive out and in, about four railes eaoh way, was through the strangest population, and in the raidst of the queerest sights. After my return (I went there alone) we wandered about the native bazaars and saw their curious trades. At eight o'clock, Mr. Kittredge gave us a sumptuous dinner at the BycuUa Club, where with turkey, plum pudding, and raince-pies, we raade the best which we knew how of that end of Christmas Day. After that, about ten o'clock, we wandered out into a native fair, where we saw their odd performances until late into the night, when we drove horae along the cool sea^ shore, and went to bed tired but happy, after the fun niest Christmas Day we ever passed. We go off now for a short trip to Karli and Poonah to see some curious old Buddhist temples. When we get back from there, we start for a long journey to Almiadabad, Jeypore, Delhi, Lahore, Agra, Luclaiow, 236 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Ca-wnpore, AUahabad, Benares, and Calcutta, This wiU take three weeks or a month. I hope you had a happy Christmas. And now a happy New Year to you ! Hurrah for 1883 ! I hope you wiU have a splendid watch-meeting and think of me, . . . Bombay, January 2, 1883. Dear William, — A happy New Year to you ! May 1883 be the happiest of any yet ! I see no reason why it should not be. We shaU not frisk about quite as much as we did thirty years ago, when we were boys. For all that, there are soberer joys even for such old chaps as you and I, and ff the birds fly somewhat more sluggishly than of old, why perhaps it wiU be aU the easier to get the salt on their tails. So a happy New Year to you ! The new year broke on me as I was driving in a tonga from Deogaon to Nandgaon. A tonga is a queer sort of dogcart, drawn by two sharp little ponies with a yoke over their necks, as if they were oxen ; — you see we have been spending a good part of the last week in going up to the hiUs to see the wonderful Buddhist and Braminical caves and temples. Sunday we spent in a bungalow on the top of a hot hiU, out of which two thousand years ago these wonderful people hewed these marvelous affairs. Think of a structure bigger than Trinity Church, with spires, colurans, and domes a hundred feet high, which is not a structure at all, but is carved out of solid rock and hewn into chambers, corridors, court yards, and shrines ; covered, in almost every inch of its surface inside and out, with sculptures, some very big and stately, some as fine as jewels, and aU full of the raost interesting religious and historical meaning. BOMBAY. 237 Think of that, old fellow ! That is the most splen did of the caves, but there are thirty-five of them, all more or less wonderful, and some almost as fine as this. We spent Sunday there, and Sunday night about ten o'clock (for you do everything you can by night to avoid the heat) we took our tongas and drove six hours down from Ellora, where the caves are, to the railway. On the way, just as we were stopping to change ponies, and some haff-naked Hindoos were howling to each other over their ar rangement, and the Southern Cross was blazing in the sky, and the moon struggling up, 1883 came tripping in. I thought of you at home, and wondered whether you were having a watch-meeting and what you thought of the New Year ; then I remembered it was only three o'clock in Boston, and that you were just going to afternoon church. So I tumbled back into the tonga again and we jolted on. You see I am getting somewhat at the country. It is interesting far beyond anything I expected. Our friends, Kittredge and LoweU, have been more kind and devoted than you can iraagine. No one in a week could have seen more, or seen it better, than we. This afternoon we leave Bombay and launch out for our selves. We have a caj)ital fellow for a traveling ser vant, a dusky gentleraan with a turban and a petti coat, a low-caste Hindoo named Huri. AVhen you get this, about the 1st of February, we shaU have passed through northern India and sliaU be in Calcutta. In a day or two we shall get out of excessive heat, and not be troubled with it again until we leave Calcutta for southern India. I am splendidly weU. My young traveling corapanion is very pleasant. I love you aU very ranch, and hope you will reraember Phillips. 238 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Bankapur, Tuesday, January 3, 1883. Dear Lizzie,^ — Since I -wrote you, we have come over from Benares, and to-day have been making a deUghtful excursion to Buddh -gaya, where, as Sir Edwin Arnold tells us so prettily, Gautama sat six years under a bo-tree, and thought and thought, until at last the Dukha-Satya was opened to him, and Bud dhism began. In these days, when a large part of Boston prefers to consider itseff Buddhist rather than Christian, I consider this pilgrimage to be the duty of a minister who preaches to Bostonians, and so this morning before sunrise we started for Gaya and the red Barabar Hills. We had slept in the railway station, which is not an uncommon proceeding in the out of the way parts of India, where there is no pretense of a hotel, and where you do not know anybody to whose bungalow you can drive up, as you can to that of almost any man to whom you ever bowed in the street. They are a most hospitable folk, only when you go to stay with them you are expected to bring your own bedding and your own servant, which saves them lots of trouble. Think of my appearing at your door some afternoon with a mattress and Katie, We had to drive ten miles in a rattling gharry, and as we went the sun rose just as it did on Buddha, in the same landscape in the fifth book of the " Light of Asia," which (as you see) I have been reading with the greatest in terest. We had to walk the last two miles, because the ponies, who must have been Mohammedans, would not go any farther. It was a glorious morning, and by and by we suddenly turned into an indescribar- ble ravine. One tumbled mass of shrines and mon uments, hundreds on hundreds of them, set up for the ^ A sister in law. BANKAPUR. 239 last two thousand years by pilgriras. In the midst, two hundred feet high, a queer fantastic temple (which has been rebuilt again and again) which has in it the original Buddha figure of Asoka's time ; a su perb great altar statue, cahn as eternity, and on the outside covered with gold-leaf, the seat on which the Master sat those six long years. The bo-tree has de parted long ago, and the temples were not there when he was squatting and meditating, but the landscape was the sarae, and though this is one of the places where thousands of pilgrims come from both the Buddhist and the Brahmin worlds, the raonuraents which they set up are not as interesting as the red hiUs on one side, and the open plain on the other, which Sakya must have seen when he forgot for a moment to gaze at the soles of his owti feet and looked upon the outer world. It is a delightful country, this India, and now the cUmate is delightful. The Indian winter is like the best of our Indian summer, and such mornings and midnights you never saw. We had two weeks in Delhi, because my corapanion. Evert Wendell, raust needs pick up the sraall-pox. It is rather good to know one town of a great country so weU as I know that, and it is on the whole, I suppose, the raost inter esting town in India. I think I know every one of its superb old tombs by heart. AA^endeU could not have chosen a better place, if he was bound to do such a ridiculous thing at all. I wished you a happy New Year when the old year left us in the raidst of a night drive aniong the hiUs. I hope you felt my wish aroimd the globe, or through it, which ever way -wishes go. May everything go beautifuUy with you. May you get all you want and 240 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. nothing which you do not want. It wiU be bad for you, but it wiU be jileasant. May the new church be better even than you expect. May you get any num ber of dry concerts and delightful books. May I come and see you flourishing gloriously through it aU next Septeraber. I am not sure just what you want, but, whatever it is, may you get it abundantly. Give my best love to Arthur, and write me aU about what you are doing. Affectionately, P, Jbtpore, January 7, 1883. My dear Gertie, — I wish you had been here with me yesterday. We would have had a beautiful time. You would have had to get up at five o'clock, for at six the carriage was at the door, and we had already had our breakfast. But in this country you do every thing you can very early, so* as to escape the hot sun. It is very hot in the middle of the day, but quite cold now at night and in the mornings and evenings. WeU, as we drove into the to-wn (for the bungalow where we are staying is just outside), the sun rose and the streets were full of light. The town is all painted pink, which makes it the queerest-looking place you ever saw, and on the outsides of the pink houses there are pictures dra-wn, some of them very solemn and some very funny, which makes it very pleasant to drive up the street. We drove through the street, which was crowded with camels and elephants and donkeys, and women wrapped up like bundles, and men chattering like monkeys, and monkeys them selves, and naked little children roUing in the dust, and playing queer Jeypore games. AU the little girls, when they get to be about your age, hang jewels in their noses, and the women all have their noses look- JEYPORE. 241 ing beautiful in this way. I have got a nose jewel for you, which I shall put in when I get home, and also a Uttle button for the side of Susie's nose, such as the smaUer children wear. Think how the girls at school wiU admire you. WeU, we drove out the other side of the queer pink town, and went on toward the old town, which they deserted a hundred years ago, when they built this. The priest told the rajah, or king, that they ought not to Uve more than a thousand years in one place, and so, as the old town was about a thousand years old, the king left it; and there it stands about five mUes oft", with only a few beggars and a lot of monkeys for inhabitants of its splendid palaces and temples. As we drove along toward it, the fields were fuU of pear cocks and aU sorts of bright-winged birds, and out of the ponds and streams the crocodiles stuck up their lazy heads and looked at us. The hills around are full of tigers and hyenas, but they do not corae down to the town, though I saw a cage of them there which had been captured only about a month and were very fierce. Poor things ! When we came to the entrance of the old town, there was a splendid great elephant waiting for us, which the rajah had sent. He sent the carriage, too. The elephant had his head and trunk beautifuUy painted, and looked ahnost as big as Jumbo. He knelt down, and we climbed up by a ladder and sat upon his back, and then he toiled up the hiU, I am afraid he thought Americans must be very hea-vy, and I do not know whether he could have carried you. Behind us, as we went up the hill, came a man leading a little black goat, and when I asked what it was for, they said it was for sacrifice. It seems a horrid old goddess has 242 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. a temple on the hill, and years ago they used to sac rifice men to her, to make her happy and kind. But a merciful rajah stopped that, and made them sacri fice goats instead, and now they give the horrid old goddess a goat every morning, and she Ukes it just as weU. When we got into the old town, it was a perfect wilderness of beautiful things, — lakes, temples, pal aces, porticos, all sorts of things in marble and fine stones, with sacred long-tailed monkeys running over all. But I raust tell you aU about the goddess, and the way they cut off the poor goat's little black head, and aU the rest that I saw, when I get home. Don't you wish you had gone with me ? Give my love to your father and raother and Agnes and Susie. I am dying to know about your Christ mas and the presents. Do not forget your affection ate uncle Phillips. Cambridge Mission, Delhi, January 10, 1883. Dear Johnny, — A happy New Year to you and H and both the babies. I received a beautfful letter from you in Bombay, which deserves a better answer than I am afraid it wiU get from me before dinner is ready. It was full of the spirit of horae work, and of all those pleasant things to which I shall be glad enough to get back by and by, pleasant as it is raeanwhile to be wandering in these queer places. Do you see where I am writing ? On the voyage from Aden to Bombay I met a young Church of Eng land missionary, with whom I had a good deal of talk, and who asked me, when I came to Delhi, to put up with him. So here we are. Three young feUows, aU DELHI. 243 graduates of Cambridge, scholars and gentlemen, live here together, and give themselves to raissionary work. They have sorae first-rate schools, and are just start ing a high-class coUege, They preach in the bazaars, and have their raission stations out in the eountry, where they constantly go, I have grown to respect them thoroughly. Serious, devoted, seff-sacrificing fellows they are, rather high churchmen, but thought ful and scholarly, and -with aU the best broad church books upon their shelves. They are joUy, pleasant companions 9,s possible, and yesterday I saw a cricket match between their school and the Govemment school here, in which one of these parsons played a firstrate bat. Under their guidance I have seen very thor oughly this wonderful old city, the great seat of the Mogul Empire, excessively rich in the best Moham medan architecture. How I wish you would ask me something about the Aryans, Davidians, about Brahmins, or Buddhists, or Parsees, or Mussulmans, or Jains. I could tell you all about them, but perhaps you do not care so rauch as one gets to care here, where the snarly old history becomes a little bit untangled, and you get immensely interested in the past of this enormous people. One goes about picking up aU sorts of bits and piecing them together. To-day it is a Carabridge missionary. Yesterday it was a traveling Calcutta Brahmin. Last week it was a Parsee merchant, with whom I got a scrap of talk, and all the time there are wonderful sights, — Buddhist caves, Jain temples, woods full of monkeys and peacocks, rides on elephants, \dsits to the English governors, and, first of all, three or four charming days at the Borabay bungalow of Charles LoweU, 244 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. I wish you were here, and we could talk it all over, and to-morrow night start together for Amritsir and Lahore, But you are not, and I am afraid you do not feel very much interest in the Punjaub and the Sikhs just at present. You -will whenever you come here. Meanwhile you must be getting your .sermon ready for the second Sunday after Epiphany, I am sure that it wiU be a good one and wish that I could hear it. And by the time you get this. Lent will be close upon you, and aU those hard questions about Confirmation and Lent service wiU be crowding you, . , , God bless you, Johnny, Love to aU. Delhi, January 14, 1883. Dear William, — I write you a rather unexpected letter to-day, for the last week has been different from what I looked for. Last Sunday I wrote to G from Jeypore. On Sunday night we left that place and came to Delhi, reaching here on Monday at noon. We intended to stay till Thursday, and then go to Lahore, But this is what happened : Wendell had not been feel ing very weU, and when we arrived, it seemed best that we should see a doctor. The doctor at once told him that he had the Indian fever, and must go to bed. In two days the fever was broken, then it came out that behind the fever he had the chicken-pox. Fortunately, he is in good hands. On the Poonah was a young mis sionary, an English clergyman, 'belonging to an estab lishment here known as the Cambridge Mission. He kindly insisted that when we came to Delhi we should stay with him, and so when WendeU was taken down it was at his house. Three of them (bachelors) keep house together, and the kindness of them aU, under these very awkward circumstances, has been most won- DELHI. 245 derful. I was in their house three days, but when I found how things were looking, I insisted on going to a hotel close, by, for I found one of the ministers was giving me his room,, and going out every night to sleep. So I am at the United Service Hotel, Wendell lies at the Mission House, and I am constantly with him, . . . Delhi is an immensely interesting place, and it is not a bad thing to see it thoroughly. It is the old centre of Mohammedan power in India. Here the Great Mogul ruled for years and years, and the great Mosque is one of the wonders of the Mussulman world. Here, too, was the centre of the great mutiny in 1857, and the town is fuU of interesting points connected with that history. And then the present life, both .^Hindoo and Mohararaedan, is vastly interesting. The streets are endless pictures. This raorning the Jurana was full of bathers in the sacred stream. The bazaars are crowded with the natives of aU parts of India. The processions of marriages and burials meet you everywhere. The temples with their hideous gods are aU along the streets, and the fakirs go clinking their begging-bowls everywhere. At present there is particular excitement because the Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjaub is here with his whole suite. They entered the city yesterday morning, with a train of elephants and caraels, and aU the citizens in their best clothes turned out to see thera. Now they are encamped on a broad field, just below the Mission, and they make a most picturesque array. For days whole hosts of wretched-looking folk have been sweeping the streets, dusting the teraples, and cleaning up everything in anticipation of the coming of the Governor Sahib, 246 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Later, Sunday Afternoon. I preached this morning in the EngUsh Church, and had the usual English congregation, I am get ting so used to English people in these days that a real American would seem a strange sort of creature. The English are faithful to their duties here, and their In dian Ci"vil Service ought to be the pattern of the world, I wish that we had anything like it in America, The trouble about the whole thing is, that the Englishman does not reaUy like the Indian and does not aim for any real liking frora him ; also the Englishman suffers so in this terrible Indian climate that he cannot live here permanently, and each officer is anxious to get through his service, and get his pension and be off to England. Such brave and devoted work as our mis sionary hosts are doing must tell, and the English rulers are gradually getting the Indians fit for more and more self-government. . , , Delhi, January 21, 1883. Dear William, — Here I am at Delhi for another Sunday. , , , The mission work is most nobly, sen sibly and faithfuUy done here. . . . Yesterday after noon, in the most desolate and degraded part of aU the to-wn, as I stood with a little crowd under a tree, with the hubbub of heathen life around us, -with aU sorts of faces, stupid and bright, hostile, eager, and scornful, I heard a native catechist preach the gospel in Urdu, of which I could not understand a word, and thought there could not be a better missionary picture. A group of Sikh soldiers came up, splendid- looking feUows, with fine faces, enormous turbans, and curled beards, who entered into lively discussion with the preacher, and for a time the debate ran very DELHI. 247 high. I could not make out which had the best of it, but the catechist seemed to understand hiraseff very well. The principal point of the Sikhs seemed to be that what God made every man, he meant that man to con tinue, so there could be no good reason for changing one's religion. But when the preacher asked them how the Sikh religion (which is only about two hun dred years old) began, he rather had them. Before WendeU's iUness thoroughly declared its character, I went off for a three days' trip to Lahore and Amritsir, which was exceedingly interesting. They are in the Sikh country, which is a region quite by it self, with the finest set of men in India and a religion of its own. At Amritsir is their great place of wor ship, the Golden Teraple, a superb structure, -with the lower half of raost beautiful mosaic and the upper half of golden plates, standing in the middle of an enormous artificial lake, called the Lake of Immor tality. There is a beautiful white marble bridge con necting the island with the shore. I saw their pic turesque worship one raorning, just after sunrise. This was a very fine trip. , . . The Lieutenant-Governor has been in camp here for two weeks, Sir Charles Atchison, to whora I had an introduction from Sir Richard Teraple through Dr. Eliot. Friday morning, a stunning menial in red and yellow appeared on a camel at ray door, with a note saying that he (the Lieutenant-Governor, not the menial) and Lady Atchison requested the pleasure of ray company at dinner. The doctor said it was quite safe to go, and so I went. It was great fun. We had a swell dinner in a gorgeous tent, with about thirty persons, and no end of picturesque servants to 248 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. wait on us. The Lieutenant-Governor was very pleas ant, and when I left promised me some more letters to people in Calcutta. I took his daughter in to dinner, and had a nice talk with her. She is a sensible young Scotch lassie. TeU Dr. Eliot, if you see him, that both here and in Bombay I owe very much to his kind thoughtfulness, I have been preaching again to-day, so that for three Sundays I have been on duty. Of course these are purely European congregations. A large part of the congregation is soldiers, of whom there is a con siderable force stationed here. I wonder who preaches at Trinity? No letters have reached me for some time, but in a week I shaU find some at Benares, Then I shaU learn about your winter, and get the bear ings of you almost up to Christmas time. When you get this I shall be about in Madras, perhaps even beyond, in Ce'ylon, -with the Indian journey finished. It is the most splendid weather possible now, like our best May or early June weather. In the mornings it is rather cold, and the natives go about with most of their bedclothes -wrapped about their heads, though their legs are bare, and do not seera to mind the cold. By ten or eleven o'clock they are sit ting in the sun, -with almost everything off of them, and burning themselves a shade or two more brown. Their picturesquesness is endlessly interesting. But I do wonder what is going on at home. I know you are aU weU and that you wish I were with you. , , , Benares, January 28, 1883. My dear Mary, — , , , This is the saeredest place in India. There are five thousand Hindoo temples in Benares, . , , You stumble at every step on a temple BENARES. 249 with its hideous idol, and if you hear a gentleman muttering behind you in the street, he is not abus ing you, but only saying prayers to Vishnu or Siva, who has a little shrine somewhere in the back yard of the next house. There is one sweet temple to their Monkey God, where they keep five hundred monkeys. I went to this temple yesterday morning, and the little wretches were running over everything, and would hardly let you go, wanting you to feed them. They are so sacred that if you hurt one of them, you would have an awful time. It reminded me of nothing so much as your drawing-room after dinner. Then I went down to the Ganges, where hundreds and hundreds of people were bathing in the sacred river. Pilgrims from all over India had corae to wash their sins away, and were scrubbing themselves, as thick as they could stand, for two miles along the bank of the stream. It is a beautiful religion, at least in this, that it keeps its disciples always washing them selves, , . . By and by, we carae to a place where, in a Uttle hollow by the river's side, a pUe of wood was burn ing ; two men were waving a big piece of cloth to fan the flarae, and gradually as it burned, you caught sight through it of a strange bundle lying in the midst of the wood and slowly catching fire. Then you knew that it was the funeral pile of some dead Hindoo, who had died happy in knowing that he would be burned beside the sacred river and that his ashes would be mingled with its waters. Then came another curious and pathetic sight. Close by the side of this burning pUe was another all prepared, but not yet Ughted. Soon I saw a man leading a little naked boy some four years old into the 250 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. water. He washed the little chap all over, then stood him up beside the pUe of wood ; a priest up above on a high altar said some prayers over him, and the man gave the little boy a blazing bunch of straw and showed him how to stick it into the midst of the wood until the whole caught fire. It was a widower showing his small son how to set his mother on fire. The little fellow seeraed scared and cried, and when they let him go ran up to some other chUdren, — probably cous ins, — who put his clothes on for him, and then he squatted on his heels and quietly watched the flames. While this was going on they had brought do-wn the body of a child, perhaps seven or eight years old, and for it they built another pile of wood close to the water. Then they took the body into the stream and bathed it for a moment, then brought it out and laid it on the wood. The father of the child went into the water, and washed hiraseff aU over. After he came out the priest at the altar chanted a prayer for him. Then he went up to an old woman who sold straw, and bought a bundle, haggling sorae tirae over the price. This he lighted at the burning pile of the little boy's mother, and with it set his o-wn child's pile in flames. They had covered the little body with a bright red cloth, and it was the prettiest funeral pile of aU. By this tirae another body, a wasted and worn old man, had corae, and they were already bathing hira in the Gan ges, while sorae raen were gathering up the ashes of somebody who was burned earlier in the day and throwing thera into the river, where they float to cer tain bliss. So it goes aU the time, while a great crowd is gathered around, some laughing, some praying, sorae trafficking, some begging. While we looked on, an interesting-looking fakir came up with a live snake BENARES. 251 pleasantly curled around his neck, and begged an ahns, whUe the boys behind kept puUing the tail of his hideous necklace to raake him mad. Just down the slope beside the water, the mother was being burned by the little boy, and the child by her father. This is not a cheerful letter, but on less serious occasions the Hindoos are a most amusing people. . , . They never sit, but squat aU over the place. When you meet them they make believe take up some dust from the ground and put it on their heads. I wish you could see my servant Huri. He looks like a most sober, pious female of about forty-five. He wears petticoats and blooraers. Where he sleeps and what he eats, I have not the least idea. He gets f 8 a month and finds himseff, and is the most devoted and useful creature you ever saw, but as queer an old woman as ever lived. But good-by. I shaU be glad enough to see you all again. . . . The Hindoos are the raost pathetic and amusing people. , . , This morning, after I had written this long letter, we went down again to the Ganges and watched the bathers and the burners for a long time. On the way we alraost destroyed large nurabers of the infant population, who crawl about the streets and run under the horses' feet and are just the color of the earth of which they are made, so that it is very hard to tell them from the inaniraate clay. Alraost none of thera wear any clothes until they are six or seven years old ; then their clothes soon get to be the same color as their skins and it does not help you much. We passed a pleasant temple of the Goddess of Small-Pox, and looked in a raoraent just out of associ ation. Her name is Sitla, and her temple is a horrid- 252 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. looking place. On the way through the city there are all sorts of amusing sights. Here is a fellow squatted down in the dirt, blowing away on a squeaking flute, and as he blows there are a lot of snakes, cobras, and all sorts of dreadful-looking things s-winging back and forth around hira, and sticking their heads out of his baskets. Suddenly the musician starts up and begins a fantastic dance, and in a few minutes makes a dive at a chap in the crowd, and by sleight of hand seems to take a long snake (which he ha's concealed some where about him) out of the other fellow's turban. Then the crowd howl and jeer, and we throw the dirty musician a quarter of a cent, AU this it is pleasantest to see from the carriage ; just as we are turning away, there is a cheerful noise of a band coming down the narrow street, and there appear a dozen men and boys playing on queer drums, cymbals, and trumpets. After them a crowd of wo men singing a wild and rather jolly air, then on horse back a smaU boy of twelve aU dressed up in gUt paper and white cloth, and on another horse a little girl about the size of Tood, who is his bride. She is dressed like a most gorgeous doll, and has to be held on the horse by a man who walks behind. They have aU been down to the Ganges to worship, and now are going horae to the wedding feast, after whioh the bride will be taken to the boy's mother's house to be kept for him, and a hard time the little wretch -wiU have. The wedding procession comes to grief every few minutes in the crowded street ; sometimes a big sweU on an elephant walks into the raidst of the band, and for a few minutes you lose sight of the minstrels altogether, and only hear fragments of the music com ing out of the neighboring houses, where they have BENARES. 253 taken refuge. Soraetiraes there come a group of peo ple, wailing, crying, and singing a doleful hymn, as they carry a dead body to the Ganges, and for a while the funeral and raarriage rausic get raixed ; but they always come unsnarled, and the wedding picks itseff up and goes its way. Then you stop a moraent to see a juggler raake a raango-tree grow in three minutes from a seed to a tall bush. Then you drop into the bazaars and see their pretty silks ; then you stoj) and listen to a Gooroo preaching in a little nook between two houses ; and so you wander on, until you see the Ganges flashing in the suu and thousands of black and brown backs popping in and out, as the men and woraen take their baths. When they corae out, they sit with their legs folded under them for a long time, look at nothing, and med itate ; then they go to a gentleman who sits under a big umbrella with a lot of paint-boxes about hira, and he puts a daub on their foreheads, whose color and pat tern tell how long they have bathed and prayed, and how holy they are after it aU. I have been looking at Huri, who is squatted on the ground in the sun, just outside ray door, as I am writ ing. He wears a gold and purple turban. The poor feUow was upset in a rickety cab last week, after he had left me at the station, and says his bones are bent, but he has been carefuUy exarained, and we can find no harm. He always sleeps just outside my door at night. Last night I heard the jackals when I went to bed, and was quite surprised to find the whole of Huri in my room when I woke up this morning. I wish I could bring hun home. . . , 254 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Calcutta, February 3, 1883. Dear William, — Lots of letters to-day, the best of them your Christmas letter, teUing how you re ceived my Borabay telegram, how you went to church and heard Bishop Clark, how you had lots of presents, and went to Salem in the afternoon. It was aU de lightful, and reading it as we drove along to-day in DhararatoUa Street (which means "the Way of Righteousness," and a funny, shabby old Hindoo Way of Righteousness it is), it seemed as if I saw you aU at your horae life. The palm-trees turned to elms, and the naked Indians to Boston men and women, with Boston great-coats buttoned up to their respectable Boston chins. It was aU delightful ! Do thank for me the whole Salem Round Robin. Since I wrote that tremendous letter to Mary last Sunday, another week of India has passed. I have been down to Gaya, and seen where Buddha sat and contemplated for six years, and a marvelous strange place it is, -with ten thousand Buddhas carved on every side. Then I came on here, and have been seeing interesting things and people for three days, Calcutta is not haff as nice as Bombay, but there are people here whom I wanted very much to see. " Stately Bom bay " and " Fair Calcutta " the Anglo-Indians are fond of saying. I have just written an enormous letter to Arthur about Chunder Sen, to whom I made a long -visit the other day. This afternoon I went to one of the schools supported by the Zenana Mission (of which you have sometimes heard from Trinity reading-desk), gave the prizes to a lot of little Hindoos, and made an address which was translated into Bengalee for my audience. DARJEELING. 255 , , , I dined last night with the Whitneys, three Boston men who are out here in business. TeU Gertie she has not sent me yet her Christmas report. At least I have not received it. What a suc cession of splendid preaching you are having ! Oh, how I wish you were here to-night. God bless you aU, Darjeeling, India, February 7, 1883. Dear Miss Morrill, — Instead of writing you a letter which could be read at our Ash Wednesday meeting, I am writing to you on Ash Wednesday a letter which will hardly reach you before Easter. I explained to you before that I have been unable to see anything of the work of the Zenana Missionary in time to let you hear from rae before the raeeting. It is only now, after ray visits to the places where our missionaries are at work, that I feel as if I had really something to say about their labors. Fiom the time I entered India I heard much of the Zenana work. In Delhi, where I spent some tirae, English ladies are at work in this visitation and teaching of native woinen, and all persons who are interested in the reUgious and social condition of the people of India, whether clergy men or laymen, value their influence very highly. Of course, from the natme of the case it is not a work which can make much display of -visible results, nor can a visitor like myself get any sight even of its pro cesses. But he can talk with those who are engaged in it, hear their descriptions, and learn from those who see it constantly what are its effects. Also, besides the visitation of Zenanas, the same ladies are engaged in teaching school, which one can freely see, aud of which he can form some judgraent for himself. The ladies of the American Union Mission whom I 256 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. have met are Miss Gardner, at Cawnpore, and Miss Marston, Miss Cook, and Mrs. Page, in Calcutta. I was sorry that Miss Ward was absent from Cawnpore, and Miss Lathrop from Allahabad at the times of my -visit. They had both gone to Calcutta -with ref erence to raedical treatraent for Miss Lathrop, and before I reached Calcutta they had returned to their respective posts. At Ca-wnpore the Mission House is a bright, pleasant bungalow, where the two American ladies live, together with a number of native teachers whom they have trained, and who go out every day to teach schools, which they have gathered either in the city or in some of the neighboring -villages. There are fourteen such schools, I think, in or about Cawn pore. One of them is taught in the Mission House itself, and that I saw. The children were bright and inteUigent, and (translated) answers showed that they knew what they were about. I saw also what interested me very much, the school which is supported by the children of your class and Miss Lowell's and Miss Torrey's. I wish they could see it. It is described as the most difficult of all the schools, situated in a region of most benighted Mo hammedanism, where the parents can hardly be in duced to let the children corae. Indeed, there were sorae fears lest the visit of a " Padre Sahib," or Mr. Minister, like me, might make trouble, and possibly break up the school. I hope that no disastrous results will foUow from my weU-meant and innocent appear ance at the school-door. In the very heart of the crowded bazaars you turn frora one dirty lane into another dirtier and narrower still, and then into the dirtiest and narrowest of all, which ends short at a native house of very poor sort, but raaking some smaU DARJEELING. 257 attempts at tidiness. The door admits at once to the only room, with an earth fioor and a few benches, where you find a native woman who answers to the name of Dorcas, and around her about a dozen little, rough, sturdy, native girls, into whose duU heads she is trying to put the eleraents of Hindostanee learning. It is aU horaely enough, even wretchedly shabby and dreary, as the girls who support the school would think if they could see it, but if they saw the horaes in which their strange little protegees live, and their parents, and knew the lives which are before them ff they go untaught, and could see the condition of other schools (which began just as this is beginning), full of brightness, and happiness, and neatness, and in teUigenoe, and religion, they would bid Dorcas go on with her work, and feel it a privilege to watch over the little school and nurse it to fuU life. I was rather glad, on the whole, to find that our children had the hardest and most discouraging field in Cawnpore to work from. No one can talk -with Miss Gardner and not be very much impressed with her good judgment and happy devotion to her work. In Calcutta I have been several tinies at the Mis sion House and seen Miss Marston, Miss Cook, and their young native assistants, who live with them and make a most happy family. There, I could see no thing of the Zenana work, but they told ine much about it, and from others, as well as from them, I heard such testiniony as gives me the strongest assurance of its value. The only wonder is that the Baboos, or native gentlemen, so freely admit these ladies to their houses. In Bengal especiaUy there is a strong desire for education, which even the secluded women feel, and either by their persuasion or by the husbands' 258 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. own desire, the requisite permission is granted. Of course it is in every case clearly understood that the visitors mean to give Christian teaching. I have made special inquiry upon the point, and am assured that no such scandalous deception of the Baboo, as was described to us by the lady who addressed the Society last year in the chapel of Emmanuel Church, has ever been practiced or tolerated by our missionaries. A good deal of talk with Miss Marston has im pressed me with the good sense and intelligence of her methods, and I am more confident than ever that our church does better work nowhere than in the con tribution which it makes to the Zenana Mission. The schools which are under the care of these Cal cutta ladies are very interesting. I have -visited sev eral of them, and heard their recitations both in Eng Ush and Bengalee. The former was so good that I could have no doubt about the latter. And the chil dren's faces told the story, which to any one who has watched for a raonth or two the ordinary look of Hin doo children's countenances was unraistakable. Last Saturday afternoon I went to a prize festival of two of these schools, which I wish that the friends of the Mission could have seen. A generous Baboo had kindly offered the use of the courtyard of his house, which was prettily decorated for the occasion. He and a number of his friends came and looked on with the greatest interest. Even some of the ladies of his household were watching what went on from an upper gallery. Some hundred and fifty children were there, with that strange, pensive, half-sad look in their eyes which raakes the faces of Hindoo chil dren so pathetic. Some of them, however, had fun enough in them. Many of them were gorgeous in DARJEELING. 259 bright colors and trinkets. Most of thera had fine rings in their ears, they all had rings in their noses, and the finest of thera also had rings on their toes. Their little brown ankles tinkled with their anklets as they trotted up barefoot to get their dolls, and they answered Bible questions as I wish the chUdren of Trinity school would answer thera. They sang strange, sweet Bengalee words to tmies which aU our chUdren know, and after I had given thera their prizes I raade a little speech, which was translated to thera, and I hope they understood, for I wanted thera to know how much their American friends cared for these little friends of theirs. I wish that I had time to teU you about Mrs. Page's Orphan Asylura. Most of these orphans are found lings, ancl one could not look at them without think ing what their lives must have been, save for this home ; if indeed without it, they could have had any life at all ; raany of them must have died in infancy. Now those who have been with Mrs. Page for years are as cheerful and cheery a lot of little Christian maidens as any school in Araerica can show. Some of the teachers in the schools of which I have been speaking were brought up in this home. Theri' are some seventy or eighty inmates now. But I raust not go on forever. You wiU see that ray whole visit to this Zenana work and my acquaintance with the workers have deepened the faith in it which I have always rather blindly felt. I laiow it now, and I know that it is good. Those who have given their contributions year after year may rest assured that they have really helped the minds and souls of Hindoo women, shut up in the dreary monotony and frivol ity of their Zenanas, and made possible for Hindoo 260 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. children happy and useful lives, of which they had no chance except for such help, I congratulate you and the other ladies, who have had the privilege of helping on this work and keeping alive other people's interest in it. If anything that I can ever do or say can give it encourageraent or strength, I shaU be very glad. Foreign missions lose something of their romance, but they gain vastly in reaUty and interest when one sees them here at work. I should be very glad to think that in aU this long letter I had succeeded in gi-ving you any idea of how it aU looks when one sees it with his own eyes. Believe me ever Most sincerely yours, Phillips Brooks. Calcutta, February 11, 1883. Dear William, — This -vVeek I have seen the Hima layas. Last Monday we left Calcutta at three o'clock by rail ; at seven we crossed the Ganges on a steam boat, just as if it had been the Susquehanna. All night we slept in the train, and the next day were climbing up and up on a sort of steam tramway, which runs to Darjeeling, a summer station at the foot of the highest hills, but itseff a thousand feet higher than the top of Mt. Washington. There the swells go in the hot months, but now it is almost deserted. We reached there on Tuesday evening in the midst of rain, found that the great mountains hacl not been seen for eight days, and everybody laughed at our hope of seeing them. We slept, and early the next morning looked out on nothing but clouds. But abont eight o'clock the curtain began to fall, and before nine there was a most splendid view of the whole range. In the midst was the lordly Kinchinjinga, the second highest moun- CALCUTTA. 261 tain in the world, over 28,000 feet high. Think of that ! Certainly, they made the impression of height, such as no mountains ever gave me before. By and by we rode about six railes to another hill called Senchul, where the tip of Mt. Everest, the high est mountain in the world, 29,002 feet, is -visible. That was interesting, but the real glory of the day was Kinchinjinga. We gazed at hira tUl the jealous clouds came again in the afternoon and covered him ; then we roamed over the little town and went to a Bud dhist -village a couple of railes away. The people here are Thibetans by origin, and they keep associa tions with the tribes upon the other side of the great hills. A corapany of Thibetans, priests and Laraas, had corae over to celebrate the New Year, which with thera begins on the 9th of February. They had the strangest music and dances, and queer outdoor plays, and we were welcomed as distinguished strangers, and set in the place of honor, feasted with oranges, and begged for backsheesh. The next raorning there were the giant hills again, and we looked at Kinchinjinga (I want you to learn his narae) till eleven o'clock, when we took the train again for Calcutta, and arrived there on Friday after noon about five. It was a splendid journey, and one to be always remembered. On my return to Calcutta I found two invitations waiting: one was to dine at the Governinent House with the Viceroy on Thursday evening. Of course, I was too late for that, and was very sorry, for now I shaU not see the great raan and the viceregal court at all. The other was to an even ing party on Friday, given by the Rajah Rajendra Narayan del Bahadur, " in honor of the late British victory in Egypt." Of course I went to this, and it 262 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. was the biggest thing seen in India for years. It is said to have cost the old Rajah a lac of rupees, or fl00,000. At any rate, it was very splendid and very queer, — acres of palace and palace grounds blazing with lights, a thousand guests, the natives in the raost beautiful costumes of silk and gold ; a Nautch dance going on aU the tirae in one haU, a fuU circus, — horses, acrobats, clowns, and aU, only after native fashion, — in a great covered courtyard, supper per petual, and the great drawing-roora blazing with fam ily jewels. I stayed tiU one o'clock, and then came home, as if from the Arabian Nights, and went to bed. But I cannot teU you aU I am doing or have done. This morning, for a change, I preached frora Henry Martyn's old pulpit in the Mission Church. To-mor row morning, we sail on the P. & O. steamer Rohilla for Madras, a three days' voyage. Thence we travel by Tanjore, Trichinopoly, and Madura to Tuticorin. Then across by sea to Colombo, and after a week in Ceylon sail in the Verona (P. & O.) on the 7th of March (the day Daniel Webster made his speech) for Suez. Frora Suez by rail to Alexandria, seeing Cairo on the way, and the recent battlefield of Tel El Kebir. When you get this, about the 24th of March, I shaU probably be in Alexandria, perhaps spend Easter there. Thence I somehow go to Spain, getting there about April 1. Your New Year's letter reached rae yesterday, A thousand thanks for it. Next year we wiU have such a watch-raeeting as was never kno-wn. Now the year is raore than half over. How fast it has gone, and henceforth we draw nearer and nearer to each other. When I get to England, it wiU almost seem at home. MADRAS. 263 TeU M., and A., and G., and S. that I love them aU. G.'s Christmas report not yet received. Affectionately, P, Madras, February 18, 1883. My dear William, — We had a beautfful sail down from Calcutta. For four days the RohiUa slid along over the most beautiful glassy sea, the sky was lovely at sunrise and sunset, the nights were the most gorgeous moonlight, and the sun at noon was hotter than Sancho. There were a good many pleasant peo ple on board, two bishojis, an archdeacon, and the usual queer lot of sailors who run the steamships in these Eastern seas. We arrived at Madras very early on Friday morning, and I have been charmed with the place ever since. It was glorious last night. I drove five miles into the country to dine at Mr. Sewall's. He is the archaeological director of the dis trict, and knows aU about the Vishnu temj)les and the Buddhist Topes, of which the whole region is fuU. The road ran through long avenues of banyan-trees, which looked like ghosts with their long arras ; little teraples peeped through the trees, and picturesque groups of people were fiitting about on foot, or in queer buUock carts, and it was aU as unlike the MiU- dam as possible. We had a charming dinner with people who knew aU about India, and drove horae at eleven o'clock through the February summer night, I sent from Calcutta a box which -wiU reach you in due time ; not for a long time, perhaps, for I left it there to be sent the first time there was a saUing ves sel going direct to Boston, There is nothing particu lar in it. Only a few travel books, which I wanted to get out of the way, and a number of sraaU traps, which 264 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. have accumulated in my trunk. There is nothing really fine or artistic to buy in India. Art seeras to have stopped here some two hundred years ago, so I have raade no purchases, and these things in the box are mere trinkets and a few pieces of cloth and some photographs. . , . There is something which I -wish you would do some tirae, when it is not much bother. When I left I took sorae sermons with rae in a great hurry. I did not make a very good selection, and do not like what I have brought ; when I get to England I may preach some raore. Would it be rauch trouble for you to go some afternoon into my study, and look in the back of my writing-table and find six or eight sermons, among the later ones, which you think would do, and send them to me at Barings', only marking thera not to be forwarded, but kept for me there ? You wiU know about the ones to send. There is one about Gamaliel, which I remember. Do not hurry about this, but if you think of it sorae afternoon, do it like a good fellow, won't you, and I wiU do as much for you when you come to India, Strawberries are first-rate here, cocoanuts and plan tains and oranges and guavas everywhere. It will be hard to leave these gentle Hindoos and their de lightful land when the time comes, three weeks hence. The only compensation wUl be that I shaU be coming nearer to you aU, Affectionately, P. Tanjore, India, February 23, 1883. Dear aunt Susan, — I hope you are aU weU, and I wish that I could drive up the side yard, this morning, and find you aU there, going on in the good old-fashioned way. Instead of that, I am sitting here TANJORE. 265 in the midst of heathenism, in the big room of an Indian bungalow, with a punkah swinging overhead to keep me cool, propelled by a rope which a naked heathen boy is pulling on the veranda outside, and with the sun blazing do-wn on the palm-trees and bam boos as it never blazes, even in August, in the back garden. This morning, while it was still cool, I went to the great temple, and saw the worship of the great god Siva. The worshipers were a strange-looking set, some of them very gentle and handsome, others wild and fierce ; but all groveling before the most hideous idol, and hiding their faces in the dust, while the big priest clothed the image with flowers, washed him, set his food and drink before hira, and anointed him with dreadful-smelling oil. It is strange to be right in the midst of pure, blank heathenism, after one has been hearing and talking about it all his life. And it is certainly as bad as it has been painted. I have seen a good deal of the missionaries here, and a good many of them are doing very noble work, but the hosts on hosts of heathen must be a pretty discouraging sight to them some times. However, I saw a dozen or more funeral piles burning the other day at Benares, and so there are that nuraber less of unconverted heathen in the land. We have had a splendid two months here, and now only two weeks remain before we shall sail from " Cey lon's Isle " for Europe, where it will seem as if I were almost in the midst of you again. But aU the rest of my life I shaU have pictures before my raind of these queer people riding on elephants (that they prod with a sharp iron stick behind the ear to make them go), squatting on their heels in the sunniest sunshine they can flnd, and reUgiously bathing in big tanks and tug- 266 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. ging at the hea-yy cars on which they love to drag their horrible gods about the country ; smiUng, cheat ing, lying dreadfuUy, and making their country as picturesque as anything can be in aU the world. It wiU be good to get back again, for after aU one wants to be at work. WiUiam, Arthur, and John have writ ten me frora time to time, — William constantly, — and from them I have heard aU the news. The best is that everything is going on without change, and that I shall find you aU next September just as I left you last June. You -wiU not doubt that I think of you a great deal. Give my best love to aunt S. and aunt C, and write to me when you can. Ever most affectionately, Phillips Brooks, Trichinopoly, February 25, 1883. Dear William, — I am staying at the house of Mr. Sewall, the chief collector of this district, who has taken us in and given us his hospitaUty for a couple of days. We have reached southern India, and the hot weather is on us, so that except in early morn ing and late afternoon there is no possibUity of mo-ving about and seeing things. What people will do here two or three months hence I can hardly imagine. The sun's heat is tremendous, and even with perpetual punkahs swinging in every room where anything is being done, eating, or writing, or reading, or talking, or sleeping, life is hardly tolerable. Nevertheless, we have had a good sort of week. Last Sunday evening we went on board a canal-boat at Madras, a funny little tub of a thing, and were towed all night by coolies, running along the bank for about thirty miles, to a place called Mahabalihuram, where there are TRICHINOPOLY. 267 some wonderful pagodas or Hindoo temples, and some remarkable old sculptures on the rocks of enormous size. It was a gorgeous moonlight night, and the sensa tion of being puUed along through this wild country by these naked figures, striding and tugging on the banks, was very curious. The next day we spent at the pagodas, which were built nobody knows when or by whom, and which have the whole Hindoo my thology marvelously carved in their rocky waUs. Mon day night we took the same way back, and it was hard to turn in and leave the strange picture which I saw, as I sat in the stern of the little craft. We took our o-wn servants, beds, and pro-visions with us, and stopped each evening and spread our table for dinner in the desert, by the side of the canal. After our return, we spent one more day in Madras, and then started southward toward Ceylon. We stopped first at Chedambaram, where there is a stupen dous temple, with heathenism in full blast, processions of Vishnu, Siva, and the other gods going about with druras, trurapets, and cymbals all the time. Then to Tanjore, where there is the most beautiful of the big pagodas, and where we spent a delightful day. Thence to this place, where yesterday we saw the richest temple of all, in which the jewels and gold clothing of two horrid little brass idols are worth ten lacs of rupees, $1,000,000, The coUector had sent word that we were coming, and they had the jewels aU spread out for us to see, while crowds of gaping natives stood outside the rope and watched the pre cious things as we examined them, A dozen officials had to show thera, for the great chest has so many locks, and each official keeps a separate key. It can- 268 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. not be unlocked without the presence of them all, a sort of combination-safety arrangement which I com mend to the Boston bank directors. I am sincerely blue at the prospect of leaving India in ten days more. I try to fix every picture in my memory, so that I may not lose it. But I hate to think that I shaU never see it again. The jieople cheat, lie, worship false gods, and do aU sorts of hor ridly wicked things, but they are evidently capable of a better life. Their land is full of monuraents which show what they once were, and there is a courtesy, mild dignity, and perpetual picturesqueness about thera which is fascinating. This raorning I went to an early ser-vice and saw the grave of Bishop Heber in the chancel. I was go ing to preach for the minister this evening, but he could not find a surplice of decent length, and it had to be given up. On Friday I shaU be at Colombo, and then sliaU get sorae letters frora you all and learn what you are doing. I can imagine, but very often I wish that I could look through the thick world and see. At this mo ment you are sound asleep, preparing for the Sunday and the exciteraent of hearing sorae gTeat man at Trinity. I hope it is n't very cold. Oh, that I could give you some of this heat ! My love to everybody. Always affectionately, P. Kandy, March 4, 1883. My dear Mary, — Do you know I think tliis place is good enough and important enough from which to write you a letter. In the first place, it is the farthest point of ray travels ; from this time my face is tumed homeward. In the second plaee, I KANDY. 269 think it must be the most beautiful place in the world. I do not see how there could be one more beautiful. I wish you could have driven with me this morning at sunrise, through the roads with hundreds of different kinds of palm-trees, and to the Buddhist temple, where they were off'ering fresh flowers to Bud dha and banging away on drums in his honor enough to kiU you ; then out to the gardens where cinnamon, nutmeg, clove-trees, tea and coffee plants, pineapples, mangoes, bamboos, banyans. India-rubber trees, and a hundred other curious things are growing. Here and there you meet an elephant or a jieacock, and the pleasant-faced natives smile at you out of their pretty houses. Oh, this beautiful island of Ceylon ! With the cocoanut-trees on the shore ; It is shaped like a pear witli the peel on, And Kandy lies in at the eore. And Kandy is sweet (you ask Gertie !) Even when it is spelt with a K, And the ipeople are cheerful and dirty, And dress in a comical way. Here comes a particular dandy, With two ear-rings and half of a shirt, He 's considered the swell of all Kandy, And the rest of him 's covered with dirt. ,And here comes the beUe of the eity, With rings on her delicate toes. And eyes that are painted and pretty. And a jewel that shakes in her nose. And the dear little gii-ls and their brothers, And the babies so jolly and fat. Astride on the hips of their mothers. And as black as a gentleman's hat. 270 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. And the queer little heaps of old women, And the shaven Buddhistical priests. And the lake wbich the worshipers swim in, And the wagons with curious beasts. The tongue they talk mostly is Tamul, Which sounds you ean hardly tell how, It is half like the scream of a camel, Aud half like the grunt of a sow. But it is too hot to make any more poetry. It is per fectly ridiculous how hot it is. I would not walk to that Buddhist temple opposite for anything. If I tried to, you would never see my familiar face in Claren don Street any more. I am glad, with aU the beauty of Ceylon, that there are only two days more of it. It is too near the equator. On Wednesday morning the Verona sails from Colombo, and wiU carry me to Suez, and the Indian trip is over. It has been one unmixed pleasure from beginning to end. We have a new boy. Hurl's language gave out at Calcutta. He did not know the queer tongues they talk in southern India, and he hacl to be sent back to Bombay. We parted with tears and rupees. Then carae another boy, who had to be summarily dismissed. He was too stupid for anything. It made the journey far too laborious when we had to take care of him. Now we have a beautiful creature named TeUegoo, or something like that. He wears a bright yellow and green petticoat, which makes him look very gay, and a tortoise-shell comb in his hair, , . . Our asso ciation with him wiU be brief, for we leave him on the wharf when we sail, Wednesday, and there wUl be fewer rupees and no tears. I went to church this morning, and the minister preached on the text, " Bake rae a little cake first," STEAMER VERONA. 271 and the point was, that before you bought any clothes or food, you raust give something towards the endow ment of the English church at Kandy, It was really a pretty sermon. . . , There are the Buddhists howling again. It must be afternoon service. The priests go about without a bit of hair on their heads, and wrapped in dirty yeUow sheets, , , , P. &0. Steamer Verona, March 11, 1883, Dear William, — I wrote last Sunday to M, from beautfful Kandy, That letter, I suppose, is somewhere on board this ship at this moment ; but not to break my good habit of a weekly letter, I wiU send you this, to show how I felt when we were half way from Colombo to Aden, and next Sunday I will send still another from wherever we are in the Red Sea. You will get them altogether, but you can read them in their order, and so get three consecutive weeks of my important biography at one time. It seems so strange to be on the sea again and think ing about the Indian journey as a finished thing. The days from Venice to Bombay keep coming back, when I was full of wonder about it all. Now, I know at least a great deal about what I shall always think one of the most delightful and interesting lands iu aU the world. In some respects, the last bit of it was almost the best. The tropics had seemed to elude us before. Many a tirae in India it seemed as if the landscape were alraost what one might have seen at home, but the minute that we touched Ceylon, everything was different. One cannot conceive of the gorgeousness of nature. Only the night before we left, we drove a few mUes along the seashore, -with such gToves of enor- 272 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. mous palms and cocoanuts on one side, and such color of sunset on the water on the other side, as no dream or picture ever began to suggest. And the whole four hours' ride from Colombo to Kandy is marvelous. The mountains are superb, and in the vaUeys there are depths of jungle which show what the earth is at only eight degrees from the equator. And then in Ceylon for the first time we saw Buddhism, that great religion which sprang up in India, and has completely disappeared in the land of its birth, but has spread elsewhere, till more than a quarter of the hmnan race are Buddhists. We just caught sight of it when we were close to the Hiraalayas on the borders of Thibet, but in Ceylon we saw the strange system in its full ness. Last Monday afternoon I drove out to the Buddhist eoUege and saw the old high-priest teaching a class of students, who sat around him with their shaven heads and their yeUow robes, getting ready to continue this atheistical religion for another generation. The old feUow looked up and asked us who we were, I gave him my card, which he speUed out -with difficulty, then he asked me, " Do you know anything about me ? " and seemed disappointed and disgusted when I was obliged to teU hira that, much as we were interested in his religion, and glad as we were to see his coUege, we had never heard of him before in aU our lives. He e-vidently did not understand how local his great rep utation was. He dismissed his class and untwisted his legs, and got down and toddled away. We have been four days on the Verona. The peo ple are pleasant, the captain is cordial and agreeable, and the weather is cool, so the voyage is charming. The Archdeacon of Calcutta is on board, and preached STEAMER VERONA. 273 this morning. He is a very joUy sort of person. I am to preach next Sunday. There are some pri vate theatricals in prospect, so the future looks Uvely. Next Sunday you shaU hear how the week has gone. Long before you get this, the great house ques tion will be settled, and you wiU have decided where your declining years are to be passed, whether in the house in G Street, which I know already, or in some new nest in M or B streets. Which ever it is, I have the deepest interest in it, and shall be very anxious to hear. Very many of my few re maining hours will be spent by the new fireside, and years hence, I shall corae tottering up to the door to recaU the old days when we were young and I went away to spend a winter in India, I cannot help wish ing that the change, if there is to be one, might bring you nearer to the corner of C and N streets, instead of taking you farther away, as I fear it will. , . , Spain is the next thing, and I am counting much upon it, I have sorae expectation of meeting the Brimmers there, but it is not at aU certain. At pres ent I am alone. WendeU left me at Suez to go to Cairo, and then to Palestine, He has been a very agreeable companion, intelligent, good-natured, always bright and obliging. I feel very much attached to him, I had a letter at Suez from Canon Farrar, asking me to preach for him in the Abbey and also at St. Margaret's, I wrote him that I would do so, and England begins to seera as if it were not very far away. AU of May and June I hope to be there. The Captain sends his love. Good-by, 274 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Steamship Verona, Sunday, March 18, 1883. My dear Gertie, — It seems to me that our cor respondence has not been very lively lately. I don't think I had a letter from you aU the time I was in India. I hoped I should, because I wanted to show it to the Rajahs, and other great people, and let them see what beautiful letters American children can write. But now I am out of India, and for the last ten days we have been sailing on and on, over the same course where we sailed last Deceraber. Last Tuesday we passed Aden, and stopped there about six hours. I went on shore, and took a drive through the town and up into the country. If you had been with me you would have seen the solemn-looking camels, stalking along with solemn-looking Arabs on their backs, look ing as ff they had been riding on and on that way ever since the days of Abraham. I think I met Isaac and Jacob on two skinny camels, just outside the gates of Aden, I asked thera how Esau was, but Jacob looked mad and would n't answer, and hurried the old man on, so that I had no talk with them ; but I feel quite sure it was they, for they looked just like the pictures in the Bible. Since that we have been sailing up the Red Sea, and on Monday evening we shaU be once more at Suez, and there I say good-by to my companion, who stops in Egypt, and goes thence to Palestine, whUe I hurry on to Malta and Gibraltar in the same steamer. She is a nice little steamer, with a whole lot of chil dren on board, who fight all the while and cry the rest of the time. Every now and then one of them almost goes overboard, and then aU the mothers set up a great howl, though I don't see why they should care very STEAMER VERONA. 275 much about such children as these are. I should think it would be rather a relief to get rid of them. Now, if it were you, or Agnes, or Tood, it would be different ! There has just been service on deck, and I preached, and the people all held on to soraething and listened, I would a great deal rather preach in Trinity. I hope you will have a pleasant Easter. Mine will be spent, I trust, in Malta. Next year I hope you will come and dine with me on Easter Day, Don't forget ! My love to Tood, Your affectionate uncle, Phillips, On the p. & 0. Steamship Verona, March 19, 1883. Little Mistress Josephine, Tell me, have you ever seen Children haff as queer as these Babies from across the seas ? See their funny little fists. See the rings upon their wrists ; One has very little clothes. One has jewels in her nose ; And they all have silver bangles On their little heathen ankles. In their ears are curious things. Round their necks are beads and strings. And they jingle as they walk. And they taUi outlandish talk ; One, you see, has hugged another. Playing she 's its Uttle mother ; One who sits aU lone and lorn, Has her head aU shaved and shorn. Do you want to know their naraes ? 276 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. One is called Jeefungee Hames, One Buddhanda Arrich Bas, One Teedundee Hanki Sas. Many such as these I saw. In the streets of old Jeypore ; They never seemed to cry or laugh. But, sober as the photograph. Squatted in the great bazaars. While the Hindoos, their mammas. Quarreled long about the price Of their little mess of rice, And then, when the fight was done. Every mother, one by one, Up her patient child would whip. Set it straddling on her hip. And trot off all crook'd and bent To some hole, where, weU content. Hers and baby's days are spent. Are n't you glad, then, little Queen, That your name is Josephine ? That you live in Springfield, or Not, at least, in old Jeypore ? That your Christian parents are John and Hattie, Pa ancl Ma ? That you 've an entire nose. And no rings upon your toes ? In a word, that Hat and you Do not have to be Hindoo ? But I thought you 'd like to see What these little heathen be. And give welcorae to these three From your loving Uncle P. STEAMER VERONA. 211 Steamship Verona, March 25, lSs3. Dear Johnny, — I must send you an Easter greeting from this queer cabin, where, and on the deck above it, we have spent our Easter Day. I hoped that we should be at Malta for the great festival, but we were detained a long while in the Suez Canal, and shall not be at Malta tiU next Wednesday. On Sat urday, I hope to land at Gibraltar. . , . How I wish you were here to-night. We would sit late on deck, and you should teU rae aU about Springfield ; and I would tell you all about India. This long return voyage is a splendid chance to think it over, and arrange in one's raemory the i-ecoUections of the wondrous land. Besides the countless pictures which one saw every day, eleven great sights stand out which you must see when you go to India. They are these : — First, the rock temples of Karli and Ellora. Think of buildings big as Christ Church, Springfield, not built, but hewn out of the solid ro(^k, and covered inside and out with Hindoo sculptures of the richest sort. Second, the deserted city of Ainbir, a city of the old Moguls, with hardly a human inhabitant, and palaces and temples abandoned to the jackals aud the monkeys. Third, the Kuttub at Delhi, the most beautiful col umn in the world, covered with inscriptions ; the most splendid inonument of the Mohararaedan power. Fourth, the golden temple at Amritsir. Think of a vast artificial lake, in whose centre, reached by a lovely white marble bridge, is the holy place of the Sikhs, the lower half of most delicate marble mosaics, and the upper of sheets of beaten gold. 278 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Fifth, the Taj at Agra, a dream of beauty: the tomb of an old Mogul empress, made of the finest marble, and inlaid in the most dainty way. The whole as large as the State House. Sixth, the river shore of the Ganges at Benares. Mile after mile of palaces and temples, and in front of them the bathing-places of the living and the burning-places of the dead. Seventh, Buddh-Gaya, where Buddha sat for six years under the bo-tree, tiU enUghtenment came to him. A valley f uU of Buddhist temples is there now. Eighth, the -view of Kinchinjinga, from Darjeeling, the second highest mountain in the world. Think of a hiU five times as high as Mt. Washington, blaz ing with snow in the sunshine. Ninth, the seven pagodas near Madras, where whole stories of the Hindoo mythology are sculptured on the face of perpendicular rocks; and they are queer enough. Tenth, the Sivite temple at Tanjore, one mass of brilliant color and sculpture, with its great pyramid, two hundred feet high. Eleventh, the temple at Kandy, in Ceylon, where they keep Buddha's tooth. You see the strange Bud dhist priests and their strange ways. These are the greatest things in India, and there are ever so many more like them, only not quite so great or interesting. I am very glad I went, and I wish that everybody who cares about interesting things could go there, too. . , , Steamship Verona, March 25, 1883. Dear William, — This is not much of a plaee for Easter Day. We have had the queerest sort of STEAMSHIP VERONA. 279 week. Last Monday night we reached Suez, and put about haff our .ship's company on shore to go to Alex andria, Brindisi, and Venice. Since then we have been dragging along through the Suez Canal. There were twenty-six steamships in single file ; we were the eleventh. Every now and then. No. 1 or No. 6 would get aground, and then we aU had to wait tiU it got loose, five or six hours, as the case might be. Every night, the whole twenty-six of us pulled up and tied fast to the bank, and waited for raorning. So we crept along tiU yesterday (Saturday, Easter even), when we reached Port Said, where we stayed four hours, and then launched out into the broad Mediter ranean, Now aU is clear. The broad sea is rolling merrily around us, we have a lot of sail set, and are scudding on towards Malta. We shall get there on Wednesday ; I hope to be put on shore at Gibraltar some time on Saturday, the 31st, and begin my Span ish experiences on AprU Fool's Day. Meanwhile, here is Easter Day at sea. A mission ary from New York, on his way home frora China with a sick -wife, has just read the raorning service. He did not attempt any sermon, and the singing was uncom monly feeble. Only the religious passengers came down for ser-vice. Now there will be nothing more to show that it is Easter Day, — no children's service this afternoon, no flowers, no eggs, nothing but the monotonous plmiging of the ship as she goes on towards Malta, After aU, it is rather good fim, this long voyage. I have had time to read big books on India, and the people are some of them pleasant, some of them amusing. They are mostly retiu-ning Anglo-Indi ans, with something the matter either with their 280 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. lungs or with their livers. They are peevish and pos itive, not Uking to be contradicted, and very set in their opinions. ... It is all very nice. Then there are a few really bright, companionable people, and I have a beautiful pipe. An Easter greeting to you aU. . . , Thanks for a lot of good papers and letters, which I received at Suez, They were a great resource in the canal. Ever affectionately, P, Gibraltar, April 1, 1883. My dear Gertie, — I am so sorry that you have been ill. If you had only corae with rae on the Ser via, and not stayed at horae to work so hard over your lessons, I do not believe you would have been iU at aU. And this raorning the long voyage from Ceylon would have been over. I wrote you a beautiful letter two weeks ago to-day from the Verona, which I hope you got. Ever since that, we have been sailing, and sail ing, and sailing, till it seemed as if we were never go ing to stop. We did stop two or three times, but we always had to go aboard and start again. We stopped at Aden, and Suez, and Port Said, and last Wednesday at Malta. Malta was very nice. We stayed there six hours, and wandered about the streets while the Ve rona was getting coal. The town is beautifuUy white and clean, and the Verona, when we came back to her again, was very black and dirty. But they washed her all off while we were at dinner. At Malta we saw the church where all the old knights of Malta are buried, and the armor which they used to wear, and then there is a queer old ehurch, which the monks have the care of, and when a monk dies, they do not bury hira underground, or burn him GRANADA. 281 up with fire, which would be better, but they staud him up in a niche, in his monk's frock, and leave him ; and there they are, a whole row of dry monks, dread ful-looking things, with their labels on them, to teU who they used to be when they were alive. Well, Wednesday afternoon we left Malta and sailed on and on in the Verona. There did not much happen on the Verona all the way. The people were not very interesting. Only, Miss G got engaged to the fourth officer, and that interested us aU very rauch indeed, and one morning Audley D and Lawrence K got into a great fight on deck, and Audley-D hit Lawrence K in the eye and hurt him, and then the two mothers, Mrs. D and Mrs. K , went at each other and scolded terribly. And that also interested us very much indeed. This is about aU I can think of that happened on board the Verona. I can't tell you much about Spain yet, for I have only been in it about an hour and half. The people talk Spanish, which is very awkward, but the sailing up to Gibraltar this morning was splendid. The narrow gate of the Mediterranean, with its two great rocks, one in Eurojje and one in Africa, was all ablaze with the morning sun, and through it, westward, lay America and Boston. I am going on Tuesday to Malaga and then to Granada, . . Give my love to everybody, Yom- affectionate. Uncle Phillips. Granada, under the Walls of the Alhambra, April 8, 1SS3. Dear William, — I am very glad to hear about the new house. I would rather see it this morning than the Alhambra, which is towering up above my 282 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. windows! What nuraber in M Street is it? Are you going to have ampelopsis growing on the front waU ? Which is my room ? , , , Do -write me aU about it, and teU me how it gets on and how it is going to look. I have been a week in Spain. I landed at Gibraltar last Sunday morning, and immediately -wrote a letter to G. to signal my arrival, I stayed there tiU Tues day, and had a first-rate time. It was good to be on shore again, and, besides, on the Verona I had struck up quite a friendship with a certain Major Wing, who was coming home from India on sick-leave. He is a first-rate fellow. He landed at Malta, but he gave me a letter to the colonel who commands aU the artiUery at Gibraltar, and he was immensely civil. He took me aU over the fortifications, introduced me at the Club, and made me almost live at his house, where were a very pleasant wife and children ; so I saw Gibraltar at its best and have the brightest recoUec tions of it. Tuesday night I took the boat for Malaga, David Whitney and his family were on board, so that I feel myself reaUy in the Boston atmosphere again. , , , The Alhambra joins on remarkably to the remem brances of India. Here is the farthest west, as there is the farthest east, of the Mohammedan conquests, and Granada and Delhi have very much in common with each other. Granada is the more beautiful, at least in situation, for here is the Sierra Nevada (as pretty a range of snowy mountains as was ever seen) in view aU the time, and the best parts of the Alhara- bra beat anything in the old city of the Moguls. StiU I like to stand by India,, and the substitution here of the English tourist (one of whom I heard at lunch MADRID. 283 declare that this is a very much overrated place) for the picturesque Hindoo or Mussulman makes a vast change, I received some letters here, and among others two of yours, for which I am as always very grateful. They brought you down to March 19, just past Professor Allen's Sunday. There was another letter frora Canon Farrar, fixing it that I ara to preach at the Ab bey on the 27th of May, and at St. Margaret's on either the 3d or 10th of June. If the latter, it wiU be Hospital Sunday, and so I want you to do rae one more favor. Will you go to my sermons and get me several Hospital Sunday discourses (they are aU in scribed on top over the text " Hospital Sunday " ) and send them to me, , . . This week I expect to meet the Brimmers, next Sunday I sliaU probably be in SeviUe, the Sunday after in Madrid, and in London as soon as possible after the 1st of May, Good-by, love to them aU. P, Madrid, April 15, 18S3. Dear William, — Ever since I received your letter yesterday, I have been trying to realize that it is true that aunt S. and aunt C. are really gone. It seems alraost irapossible to picture the old house as it must be to-day. . , , I wish so much that I had been at home, and I hope I shall hear from you some time about the last of those two long, faithful lives, , . . It seems as ff this great change swept away from the world the last remnants of the background of our earliest Ufe, Even after father and mother went, as long as aunt S, lived, there was somebody who had to do with us when we were babies. Now that gen eration has aU passed away. How many old scenes 284 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. it brings up. This is Sunday morning, right after breakfast, and it seems as if I could see a Sunday morn ing of the old times in Rowe Street, with the general bustle of mother and aunt S. getting off to Sun day-school, and father settling do-wn to read to the bigger boys in the front parlor ; and there are faint memories of much earlier days when the aunts must have been blooming young ladies, though they seemed to us then almost as old as they ever did in later tiraes. I hope the last years of their lives have been happy, in spite of the suffering. They have been spared what was raost to be dreaded, long, hopeless iUness and helplessness. But I am so sorry to hear that aunt S had to suffer. ... If there were ever lives totally unselfish, and finding all their pleasure in mak ing other people happy, these were they. AVe know aunt S best, of course, but dear little aunt C , with her quiet ways, had something very touching and beautiful about her. She seeras to have slipped out of life as unobtrusively and -with as little trouble as she lived. AVhen I left thera, of course I knew it was very likely that I should not see them again. But all I had heard since made me feel as if they would be there when I carae home. I had a nice letter from aunt Susan in the autumn, which must have been a good deal of an effort for her to write, and I wrote to her, from India, a letter which must have reached Andover after it was aU over. It cannot be long — one cannot ask that it should be long — before aunt S follows her sisters. Give her my love and sympathy. As it may be that she wiU go before I come home, the old house be left empty, and something have to be done about the SALAMANCA. 285 property, I want to say that I should like to buy it, and I authorize you to buy it for rae, if the chance of fers. Or, if you and Arthur and John would not like that, I wiU join with any or aU of you to buy and hold it. I do not know whether you liked it weU enough last summer to think of making it a summer home, but I should like to hold it as a place where, for the whole or part of any summer, we could gather and have a delightful, easy tirae, araong the raost sacred associations which remain for us on earth, A few very simple improvements would make it a raost charraing place, so do not by any chance let it sUp, and hold, by purchase or otherwise, to as much of the furniture as you can. One of these days, when I am a little older and feebler, I should like to retire to it and succeed Augustine Amory at the Uttle church. Is not our window done there yet ? I am sorry for poor little G . I hope she is better long before this. TeU her I would come home and see her ff I reaUy thought it would make her rheumatism better. If it does not get weU quickly, tell her to get into the Servia and come over here, and we wUl lay her down in the Spanish sun, and raelt it out of her. It is hard for the poor little thing to have to suffer so. Give her my love, and tell her I shaU be back in about five months. I ara with the Brimmers and the Wisters of Phila delphia, a party of seven, which is quite a new travel ing experience for me. I like it. I shall be alraost in England when you get this. Good-by, P, Salamanca, April 29, 18S3. Dear William, — And so aunt S too is gone, and the old house is erapty ! I only received your letter 286 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. last evening, and all the night, as I rode here in the train, I was thinking how strange it was. These three who began their Uves so near together, long ago, and who have kept so close to one another aU the whUe, now going almost hand in hand into the other world. , . . How pathetic it used to be to see aunt S sitting there, fuU of pain, trying to do some lit tle bit of good in her curious ways, with her queer little tracts, and her vague desire to exhort everybody to be good. I always thought she must have been one of the handsomest of the sisters when they were young. Surely, no end that we could have dreamed of for them could have been more perfect. But how we shaU miss them ! , . , Such a dear old town as this is ! I am here alone. Mr. Brimmer stayed at Madrid. I shaU meet thera again on Tuesday or Wednesday at Burgos. No body here speaks a word of anything but Spanish, and I have the funniest tirae to get along. This morning I spent two hours in the cathedral, with an old priest with whora I talked in Latin, One of the towers of the cathedral gave the suggestion, I think, of the tower of Trinity Church in Boston. You wiU find a cut of it in Fergusson's " Architecture " in my library. The whole town is a wilderness of architectural deUght. Convents, churches, cloisters, coUeges, and towers everywhere. How I -wish you were here this after noon. A good long letter from Arthur yesterday. Very bright and busy. WeU, ours is the generation for the next twenty years, then we shall go as they have gone, and a new set of youngsters take our places. It is aU right, , . , BURGOS. 287 Burgos, May 2, 1883. My dear Lizzie, — Your last letter gave me such a lively idea of what was going on in New York that Burgos, by contrast, seems a little duU. Nothing goes on in Burgos but the cathedral beUs. My breakfast, for which I am waiting, does not seem to go on at aU. But if I think of you aU in New York, it wiU make my head spin as much as is good for it, in this quiet place, so I am going to answer your letter, in hopes to get another. Wildes would have been so proud and delighted if he could have seen me this morning at 1.17, in fact, from that to 3.12. No trains in Sj'ain ever connect with any others, so I was left over aU that time at Venta di Bancs, on my way from Leon here. And I sat in the railway restaurant at that dead hour of the night and read the report of the Eighth Church Con gress, which had reached me just before I started on my journey. Think of it ! . . . AVas ever such a tribute paid to the general secretary lief ore? Iwas listening still to Dr. Shattuck's account of the early Ecclesiastical History of Boston, when the express train from Madrid came along, and I got in, and soon the cathedral of Burgos came in sight. It really is a very great cathedral, the first I have seen in Spain. The glorious things I have seen in Sjiaiii have been, first, the approach to Gibraltar and the PiUars of Her cules ; second, the Alhambra, with the Sierra Nevada behind it ; and third, the pictures of Velasquez at Mad rid. Those things are aU superb, worth the journey here to see, if there were nothing else. There is a lot else scattered along the road, but those are the great things, and as to Gothic architecture, he who has seen Chartres, Rheims, Amiens, and Cologne (to say nothing 288 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. of York and Durham) need not be impatient about seeing SeviUe, or Leon, or Toledo, or even Burgos; though Burgos is far the finest of them aU, and must rank, though not very high, among the greatest cathe drals of the world. There is something in their architecture that is like the people, a trace of something coarse, a lack of just the best refinement. The people whose great medi aeval glory is the Inquisition, and whose great modern delight is the buU-fight, must have something brutal in their very constitution. Now the Moors were thor ough gentlemen, not a touch in them of the sham which was always in the Hidalgo ; so the Moorish architecture is exquisite in its refinement, and Ve lasquez was too great for the national coarseness to spoil hira, though he has it, and Gibraltar belongs to England ! So that Nature and the Moors and Velas quez have done the finest things in Spain, , . . To-raorrow I go to Paris, whence I started last August to join you in Cologne, It has been a long loop, and has inclosed a lot of pleasant things. Now the summer is alraost here, and then comes — home. My friend Mr. Paine, of Boston, talked before I left of coraing over to join me, about the first of July, and I think he will do so. AVrite me what you and Arthur are doing and planning. My love to him. Affectionately, Phillips. Westminster Palace Hotel, London, "Whit Sunday, May 13, 1883. Dear William, — . , . I left the Brimraers at Biarritz and came over here from Paris last Tuesday, Mr. Briraraer has been the most charming com pany, and all the party have been very pleasant, I LONDON. 289 have seen a good' many people since I arrived. Every body is hospitable and kind. This morning I have been preaching for Canon Duckworth at St, Mark's in St. John's Wood, Yesterday I went to the opening of the great Fish eries Exhibition, where they have everything you can imagine, from any land you ever (or never) saw, that has anything to do with catching fishes. The Prince and Princess of Wales were there, and the Prince made a speech, I saw him also the other day at the Stanley Memorial Committee, He is pleasant-looking and has easy manners. The new Dean is very cor dial and friendly. I saw the new Archbishop the other day. He looks able and has a real ecclesiastical face. I found at Barings' the two packages of sermons which you so kindly sent, and I was grateful to you in the midst of the row and hurly-burly of Bishopsgate Street. They were just what I wanted, except that I ara not to preach on Hospital Sunday after aU, Next Sun day morning I preach at the Chapel Royal, Savoy, one of the old historic churches of London. The fol lowing Smiday (27tli) I preach at the Abbey in the evening, and the next Sunday, June 3d, I preach for Farrar in St. Margaret's. I have a little plan in which I need your help. I want to send home some little thing for the church, and I thought I would get a piece of nice stained glass for the robing-room -window, — the little -win dow behind which we put on our surplices. It would brighten up a little that rather dolefid room. Would you go to Chester and raake hira raeasure it very care fully, giving the exact size of the glass inside the frarae, and also showing how rauch of the -window is arranged to open. Please make him very careful about the 290 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. exactness of the measures. Will you do this as soon as you can, so that I can see about it whUe I am in London ? I suppose by this tirae the Andover window must be in its place, and I hope it is quite satisfactory, I do not suppose that it can be made in any way a memorial of the aunts, as weU as of father and mo ther, I almost wish we could put up somewhere a plain tablet with their names upon it, that they might be somehow remembered in connection with the church. They offered, I believe, at one time, a part of the old orchard as the site for it. I am anxious to hear what you think of my plans regarding the old house. The more I think of it, the more I want it. Speaking of windows, I saw Mr, and Mrs. Fred Dex ter in church to-night, and they tell me that the new window in Trinity is wholly satisfactory and very beautiful. At present I am very much troubled about the little triangle in front of Trinity, It looks as if it would be built on, and poor Trinity hidden away behind a tenement house. If you meet any feUow in the street who looks as if he would like to give sixty thousand dollars to keep it open, stop him for me and tell him we wiU put up a monument to him in Trinity when he dies, Good-by. Affectionately, P. Westminster Palace Hotel, London, Sunday, May 20, 1883. Dear William, — I have been rich in letters this last week. First came M 's, poetry. . . . Then Tood's letter, which shows how wonderfuUy the female mind is getting educated in America. To get these letters a few days after they were -written makes me LONDON. 291 feel as if I were almost at home. On the streng-th of them, I went yesterday and engaged a jjassage from Liverpool for Boston on the Cephalonia, which sails the 12th of September. So that I ought to be in Clarendon Street on the 22d, and preach in Trinity on the 23d ! Will you be glad to see me ? So you have sold your old house. We had some very good times there, and it wiU always be dear to you. I hope the new one which is building is going to see the happiest years of all. We are all good for twenty years more, and they shall be as happy as the accumulations of the past can raake them. Now I am going off to preach at the Savoy Chapel. Four p. M. I have been and preached. There was a great crowd, and everything went off very weU. , , , Then I took lunch with the Baroness Burdett-Coutts. I am going there to a dinner on Tuesday, to meet the new Archbishop. . . . London is very pleasant now, fuU of interesting peo ple. Friday I dined at Mr. LoweU's, with Professor Pluxley. There were only four of us, so that we had the great skeptic all to ourselves, and he was very in teresting. Next Saturday I am going to Farrar's to meet a lot of people. Aniong others, Matthew Arnold, whom I am very anxious to see. He is coming to America, I understand, this autumn. I am glad John preached at Trinity, Tell the sup plies to hurry up, for they wiU not have much more chance. I am coming home in the Cephalonia. Meanwhile, why cannot you run over and join Paine and me this sumraer? . . . Affectionately, P. 292 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Westminster Palace Hotel, London, May 27, 1883. My dear William, — I am very late about my Simday letter. The fact is, I am just home from the Abbey, where I have been preaching this evening. There was the same great throng of people that is always there, and the Abbey was as soleran and glori ous as ever, I could not help putting into my sermon an aUusion to our dear little Dean of old, which I think the people were glad to hear. Then we went into the deanery, just the way we used to do. I like the new Dean very much, and his love for Stanley is delightful. Mrs. Bradley and her daughters are also very pleasant. A young feUow, HaUam Tenny son, son of the Poet Laureate, was there. Does it not make "In Memoriam" seem very real to meet those two names together ? He is a very nice fellow, and asked me to come down to the Isle of Wight and see his father, which I have a great mind to do. I preached for Canon Boyd Carpenter this morning, at Christ Church, Lancaster Gate, near Hyde Park, Next Sunday morning, I am to preach in old St, Margaret's for Farrar, which wiU be very interesting. He gave me a big dinner last night, with many clerical folk, the most interesting of whom was Lightfoot, the Bishop of Durham, one of the great scholars of the English Church. Matthew Arnold was to have been there, but at the last moment he was invited to dine with Prince Leopold, and it seems that means a com mand, and breaks every other engagement, . , , Far rar has asked me to lunch with him next Thursday, so I shall see him there. I went on Tuesday to a tremendous dinner party at the Baroness Burdett-Coutts's, with sweUs as thick LONDON. 293 as huckleberries. Then, for variety, I went on Thurs day night with K to an aU-night meeting of the Salvation Army, what they, in their disagTce- able lingo, caU " AU night with Jesus." They close the doors at eleven, and do not let anybody go out tUl half past four a, m. We made arrangements before going in that we should be let out at one A. M., and then we had to drive an hour in a hansom to get home. The meeting was noisy and unpleasant, but there was nothing very bad about it, and I am not sure that it might not do good to somebody. One lovely day this week I went on a Cromwell pilgrimage to Huntington, where Oliver was born, and saw the register of his baptism, the house in which he was bom, and the country in the raidst of which he grew up. It was the sweetest of days, with the apple- trees in fuU blossom, and the hawthorn hedges just opening in white and pink. These and many other things have fiUed up my time very fidl, but it is very delightful. I shaU spend two more Sundays in London ; then, on the 17tli of June, I preach for Dean Plimiptre at Wells, and probably on the 26tli at Lincoln. I am going also to raake a little visit to the Bishop of Rochester, , . . The 23d of Septeniber wdU soon be here, and who knows but we raay be aU together in the old Andover house by the siunmer of 1884? I hope nothing wiU interfere with my plans there. I wish you were here for to-morrow. AVe woidd get up a 'scursion. . , . Affectionately, P. 294 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Westminster Palace Hotel, London, June 3, 1883. My dear Tood, - — Your -wicked papa has not sent me any letter this week, and so I am not going to -write to him to-day, but I shaU answer your beautiful letter, whioh traveled aU the way to London, and was delivered here by a postman with a red coat, two or three weeks ago. He looked very proud when he came in, as if he knew that he had a beautfful letter in his bundle, and all the people in the street stood aside to make way for him, so that Tood's letter might not be delayed. How quickly you have learned to read and -write ! I am very sorry for you, for they now wiU make you read and study a great many stupid books, and you wiU have to -write letters aU your days. When I get home, I am going to make you write my sermons for me, and I think of engaging you for my amanuensis at a salary of twenty cents a month, wdth which you can buy no end of gumdrops. If you do not know what an amanuensis is, ask Agnes, and teU her I wiU bring her a present if she ban spell it right the first time. Poor little Gertie ! What a terrible time she has had. It must have been very good for her to have you to take care of her, and run her errands, and play with her, and write her letters. I suppose that is the reason why you hurried so and learned to write. It was a great pity that I never got her letter about the Christmas presents, but I am very glad that you liked the coupe. What do you want me to bring you home frora London? Write rae another letter and teU me, and tell Gertie I shaU be very happy when I get another letter from her written with her own little fingers. LONDON. 295 I want to see your new house, which I ara sure wiU be very pretty. I wonder where you are going to be this summer ? Now, I am going off to preach in a queer old church built almost a thousand years ago, before your father or mother was born. Give my love to thera, and to Agnes, and to Gertie, and to the new doll. Your affectionate uncle Phillips. London, June 10, 1883. Dear William, — This past week has been happy in two letters frora you. The week before I had none, as I reraarked in ray letter to Toody of last Sunday. That seeras to have been only an ac cident of the maUs, and not to mean any failure of brotherly kindness. For the riches of this week I am sincerely thankful, but it was sad news that your let ter brought about the death of Miss Harmon. A long letter from AUen came at the same time, but I opened yours first and so learned it from you. She was a good, true woman, and the amount of help which she has given to the poor and comfort to the suffering is incalculable. I have been in the habit of trusting so much to her of that part of the work for which I have not the time and ara not well fitted to do, that I shaU miss her more than I can say. Her place can never be filled, and how we can raanage to get along without her I do not see at once. It was a hard life, but I do not know where one coidd see a more useful one I have been preaching in St. Paul's to-day by in-vi tation of the Bishop of London. It is Hospital Sun day ; the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs eame in state, and there was an enormous crowd there, but it is too aw fully big, bald and barren, and needs color dreadfully. 296 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. I should rather have the Abbey, although it is good to get one chance at the great Cathedral. On Wednes day I am going to another great London sight. I ara to dine with the Lord Mayor and the Lady Mayoress at the Mansion House, to meet the Arch bishop and the Bishops, — a great city dinner -with turtle soup and all that sort of thing. It wiU be good fun. Next Sunday I am going to spend at Wells with Plumptre, whom you remember, and who is now Dean of WeUs. It is one of the prettiest cathedrals in England, John and I went there three years ago. On the 21st I am going do-wn to the Isle of Wight to spend a day and a night at Tennyson's. I have been, and ara going, to a great many dinners and receptions ; everybody is very hospitable and kind, and it is very amusing. In a few weeks I shall be ready to puU up and be off for the Continent again. I am going on Tuesday to stay with the Bishop of Rochester, and to-morrow I go wdth him to hear the discussion on the marriage -with the deceased -wife's sister in the House of Lords, That is the question which now is keeping England excited. I have an invitation frora the University at Carabridge to come next spring in May, and preach three serraons before them. Do you think I could do it ? Give ray love to everybody. Affectionately, ' P, Deanery, Wells, June 17, 1883. Dear William, — No letter frora you the past week. I suppose there are two upon their way, and I shall get them both in a day or two. Meanwhile, I wiU not break my habit of a weekly letter, of which I am quite proud, for I have kept it up without a break all WELLS. 297 this year. Just think, it was a year next Wednesday that we were all huddled together on the Servia, and saw the last of one another in that tremendous crowd. It has been a delightful year, but one is not sorry to think that it is over, and only the last flourish of it left before one turns his face homeward. Do you remeraber Dean Pluraptre, and the day he preached at Trinity ? He has gro-wn older, and is now Dean of Wells, and I am staying with him ; in a few minutes I am going to preach for him, in one of the loveliest of the cathedrals. He is a true scholar and an interesting man. His wffe was a sister of the great theological teacher, Frederick Maurice. . . . There is staying here a son of Maurice's, Colonel Maurice, who was in South Africa at Tel El Kebir, and who is writ> ing his father's Life. He is a very charming person and makes ray little visit rauch pleasanter than it could otherwise have been. Then close by lives Freeman, the historian, whose lectures at the Lowell Institute you and I went to hear. Colonel Maurice and I are going to his house to dinner this evening. . , , I dined the other day with another Lowell lecturer. Professor Bryce, whom we also went to hear together, and who is the pleasantest of men and hosts, Stop ford Brooke was there, and other interesting people. One other evening last week I was at the Mansion House at the Lord Mayor's dinner to the Archbishops and Bishops. We had the city of London's famous turtle soup and ever so many curious customs. , . . Only think, I am writing in a roora which the Dean of WeUs built in 1472, in which to entertain Henry VII, when he was coraing back frora the conquest of Perkin Warbeck. Does n't that sound old and bric-a-brac-ish ? , , , 298 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Farringford, Freshwater, Isle op Wight, June 22, 1883. Dear Mary, — Here is another place whieh seems interesting enough to be worthy of a few lines to you. Besides, it is the home of a brother poet of yours, for Tennyson is sleeping somewhere downstairs, and that wiU interest you. So, as they do not have any breakfast until haff past nine, and I am up and dressed at eight, here goes for a little letter. I carae down here yesterday, a long three hours' run frora London, through a very pretty country, passing Winchester cathedral and other attractive things upon the way. At last we crossed the Channel in a little cocklesheU of a steamboat, and landed at Yarmouth, where HaUam Tennyson was waiting for me with the carriage. Then a pretty drive over the Downs, with two or three smaU -viUages upon the way, brought us, in about three miles, to this house. Here the great poet lives. He is finer than his pictures, a man of good six feet and over, but stooping as he walks, for he is seventy-four years old, and we shall stoop if we ever Uve to that age, A big dome of a head, bald on the forehead and the top, and very fine to look at. His hair, where he is not bald, an iron-gray, with much whiter mustache and beard, a deep bright eye, a grand, eagle nose, a mouth which you cannot see, a black felt hat, and a loose tweed suit. These were what I noticed in the author of " In Memoriam," The house is a delightful old rambling thing, whose geography one never learns, not elegant but very com fortable, covered with pictures inside and ivies outside, -with superb ilexes and other trees about it, and lovely pieces of view over the Channel here and there. He was just as good as he could be, and we aU ISLE OF WIGHT. 299 went to a place behind the house, where the trees leave a large circle, with beautiful grass, and tables and chairs scattered about. Here we sat down and talked. Tennyson was inclined to be misanthropic, talked about Socialism, Atheism, and another great catastrophe like the Frenoh Revolution coming on the world. He declared that if he were a Yankee, he would be ashamed to keep the Alabama money, but he let himseff be contradicted about his gloomy views, and by and by became more cheerful. We had tea out of doors, took a walk for various views, then, having come to know me pretty weU, he wanted to know if I sraoked, and we went up to the study, a big, bright, crowded room, where he writes his Idyls, and there we stayed tiU dinner time. Dinner was very lively, Mrs. Tennyson is a dear old lady, a great invalid, as sweet and pathetic as a picture. Then there are staying here Mr. Lushington, a great Greek scholar, a Miss B., who knows every body and tells funny stories, and another Miss B., her pretty niece, with the loveliest smile. After dinner, Tennyson and I went up to the study again, and I had him to myself for two or three hours. We smoked, and he talked of metaphysics, and poetry, and religion, his own life, and HaUam, and aU the poems. It was very delightful, for he was gentle, and reverent, and tender, and hopeful. Then we went down to the drawing-room, where the rest were, and he read his poetry to us tiU the clock said twelve, " Locksley HaU," " Sir Galahad," pieces of " Maud," (which he specially likes to read), and some of his dialect poems. He said, by the way, in reading " Locks- ley HaU " that the verse beginning " Love took up the glass of time," etc., 300 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. was the best simile he ever made ; and that and a cer tain line in the " Gardener's Daughter," were the ones on which he most piqued himself. Just after midnight we came up to bed. They had the prettiest way at dinner of getting up before the fruit came and going into the drawing-roora, where there was a fresh table spread by the window, looking out on the la-wn and Channel. WeU, so much about Tennyson. Thanks for your letter, which was very good to get. , , . The Precentory, Lincoln, June 23, 1883. Dear William, — Is it not pretty hard, when I think I have a beautiful long letter from you, to open it and find nothing except some circulars ? You might at least have written on the back of them. ... I sent a photograph to G., the other day, which I hope she likes. Yesterday I came do-wn here. Do you re member Lincoln? The cathedral is very gorgeous, and the old to-wn is quaint. Last night, the Pre centor, with whom I am staying, had a dinner-party of the clergy, with deans, sub-deans, and canons. The Bishop of Lincoln was there, Wordsworth, nephew of the poet, a man who ought to have lived five centuries ago. He said he thought the present House of Lords would not last more than five years longer, and ought not to, because they had passed a biU aUowing a man to marry his deceased wife's sister ! The Precentor, my host, is a nice old gentleraan, and the place is very beautiful and fuU of association. ... I preached this morning in the cathedral, close to the place where St. Hugo lies buried, and took tea this afternoon with the sub-dean, in the room where Paley, who used to be sub-dean here, wrote his " Natural Theology." LONDON. 301 To-morrow, I go liack to London. On Wednesday, Paine arrives from Araerica, and my subsequent move ments will be somewhat governed by him. Indeed, the 12th of September seeras so near that it does not much matter what one does between. . . , Westminster Palace Hotel, London, Sunday, July 1, 1883. Dear William, — You are forty-nine years old to-morrow ! Are you glad or sorry ? Almost half a century, you see, and the only bother about it is that there is so much less remaining, for life has been very good, and one wishes there were more of it. I wish we were all going to Uve to be five hundred. But no matter ! There are pleasant times stiU ahead, and we wUl make the most of them, so that when another forty-nine years are past, and you are ninety- eight, we shall agree that the second haff has been even better than the first, I am aU the more in a hurry to get home and begin the new period, now that you are forty-nine, seven times seven, which they say is the grand climacteric of life. But to-night I send you my heartiest God bless you, and congratulations upon all the past and hoijes for aU the future. I am writing in Paine's room, for he has the luxury of a parlor, and I use it as if it were my own. lie arrived on Wednesday, and I was glad enough to see him ; since then we have talked over a thousand things. It is wonderfuUy like being at horae again to hear so directly from you aU. . . . I preached for Dr. Vaughan at the Temple, this morning. It was a noble congregation, the church packed with lawyers, and the ser-vice very beautiful. The good doctor had a long surplice made especiaUy 302 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. for the occasion, and presented it to me as a memento, so the Temple surplice will stand in Trinity pulpit for many years. Last Sunday I wrote to you from Lin coln. I came back from there on Monday, and have had a very interesting week. There was a dinner at the Bishop of Carlisle's, with raany interesting people, an evening in the House of Lords, where the biU for allowing marriage with the deceased wife's sister got defeated, a luncheon down at Dulwich, whither I went with the Bishop of Rochester and Dr. Boyd of St. Andrew's, who wrote the " Recreations of a Country Parson." At luncheon I sat between Robert Brown ing and Jean Ingelow, and had a delightful time. Then I went down to the Tower with a party of gov ernment people, Gladstone, and Foster, and Bright, and others. There was an evening party at Lady Stan ley's, where I saw Browning again, and yesterday afternoon Newman Hall gave me a party. These and some other things have fiUed the week, and it has been most enjoyable. To-morrow, I am going down with Farrar to spend a night with a friend of his in the country, to meet Matthew Arnold, who lives some where there. This afternoon, Paine and I drove out to Hamp stead Heath and saw HoUday, who made his and Mr. MorriU's windows. The last time I saw him was when I went to order Paine's window, when you and I were in London together. How I wish you were here now ! Paine is deeply interested in charity organiza tions, dispensaries, police stations, and aU that sort of thing. We shaU stay here probably three, certainly two weeks longer, and then be off for the great Conti nent. It has grown quite hot, and in a few weeks more we shall be glad to be away. There are a great LONDON. 303 many Americans here, , , , I watch every letter to hear what your plans are for the summer, and where you will be when I get home. Already the proraise of auturan begins to appear, AUen has written to ask me to a dinner of the club on the 24th of September, and President Eliot wants me to take morning prayers at Cambridge during November, This is Commence ment week. You have had Arthur and John with you, I suppose, and I hope that you talked about me. Good-by, my love to G . Your affectionate P, Westminster Palace Hotel, Jidy 8, 1883. Dear William, — . . . I am having a first-rate time, but it is all the pleasanter because it is not going to last forever. The Cephalonia (No. 28 is our room) wiU sail on the 12th of September. I -wUl teU you what I have been doing this week. Monday, I went down to the country to stay with Mr. Leaf, a friend of Farrar's. It was a lovely place, with a glorious park, great trees, and a sumptuous house. There we passed an idle day, and in the even ing had a big dinner, to which carae Matthew Arnold and his daughter, who live close by. He was very arausing, and the next morning I went to breakfast with him, saw his wife, his house and study, and liked him very much. He has promised to stay with me when he comes to Boston. On Tuesday, I came back to town, and we had a pleasant dinner party that night at the house of a Mr. MiUs. After that was over, I went to one of Mrs. Gladstone's receptions, to which I was in-vited to see the Grand Old Man; he had to go to the House of Coramons, and so I did not see hira ; but I am 304 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. going there again next Tuesday. Wednesday was the 4th of July, which we celebrated by calling on the American minister. Thursday was speech day at Harrow School, and Paine and I went. I was there with Jolm three years ago, and was glad to go again. The boys spoke well, and it was very bright and quite like Class Day. Then we had a luncheon, where Lord Dufferin and I made speeches. When I came back I went to dinner at Lady Frances BaiUie's, the sister of Dean Stanley's wife. It was very pleasant. We had Grove, and Robert Browning, and the Bishop of Litch field; and ray corapanion was Mrs. Ritchie (Thack eray's daughter), who wrote "The Village on the Cliff " and all those nice novels, and who told me a great deal about her father. Friday, I went to Rich mond and saw the prettiest view in England, and in the evening dined with the Precentor at the Abbey, After dinner, we went into the Abbey and stroUed about in the dark, with wonderfuUy pretty effects in the great arches. Saturday, I went to a garden party at Fulham Palace, the Bishop of London's, where there were many clergymen, and in the evening ten miles out of town to Upper Tooting, where I dined with Mr. MacmiUan, the publisher. Have you read " John Inglesant " ? Mr. Short- house, the man who wrote it, was the principal guest, and there were a great many agreeable people. This morn ing, we went to the Foundling Hospital and heard the children sing, so the week has gone with a good deal of sight-seeing to fiU up the gaps. Everybody is hospi table and kind, and it would be pleasant to stay here a long time ; but our departure now is definitely fixed for the 19th, when we shall go somewhere on the Con tinent. We do not yet know where, or I would teU LONDON. 305 you, but no doubt our uncertainty will solve itseff in the course of the next week, and by next Sunday I can teU you something of our summer's route. AU the time, while our weather here is delightful, you are sweltering in heat. This morning's paper says the heat in New York yesterday was terrible. I am awfuUy sorry for you. Do take a steamer and come over, you and the total family, and we wUl lie upon the grass in Hyde Park together tiU you aU get cool. . . , God bless you aU always. P. Westminster Palace Hotel, London, July 10, 1883. My Dear Gertie, — ... I wish you were here, for it is beautifully fresh and cool, and we would go off and see some kind of pretty things. I went down into the country the other day, and saw some people whom I met on the journey home frora India. It was the prettiest place, and you would have enjoyed it ever so rauch. They had the biggest strawberries you ever saw, and you would have enjoyed picking them a great deal more than I did. I wish strawberries grew on trees. They would be so much easier to pick. There was a nice little girl there who was a great friend of mine on the voyage. Her name is Nora, and she gave rae her photograph. I think I wdU put it into this letter, so that you can see what an English child looks like, only you must keep it safe and give it to me when I get to Boston, for I told Nora Buchanan that I should keep it tiU I saw her again. Her father has a tea plantation up in the Himalaya Mountains, and her mother and she go there every winter. She has got a pony named Bro-wnie, and a big dog and a little dog, and lots of pets. 306 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. When we get to Uving up in the old house at An dover, we -wiU have sorae dogs too, and perhaps some day we wiU get a pony for you to ride on ; or would you rather have a donkey with long ears, and a delightful little cart to drive in ? What did you do on the 4th of July ? The people here seemed to think that it was just like any other day ; nobody was firing crackers, or blowing soap bubbles, and there were no American flags flying anywhere ; but one day, two weeks ago, London was greatly excited, it being the Queen's Coronation Day, and I met the Lord Mayor in his coach, with a red cloak on and a big gold chain around his neck. I thank you so much for your little note, and for the picture of yourseff, which is set up in my room. You must write to me again when you can, and I wiU see you in September. By that time you must be weU and fat and rosy. Now good- by. My love to Agnes and Toodie. Your lo-ving uncle, P, Westminster Palace Hotel, July 15, 1883. Dear William, — . , . On Thursday next, the 19th, we leave England, We had to fix some certain day and hold to it, or we should have never got away. We go first through France into the Pyrenees, where we shaU get a Uttle journey, just enough to see what they are like, and then by interesting routes, more or less out of the way, into the Tyrol through Swit zerland, Next Sunday, July 22, we probably shaU spend at Bagneres de Luchon, pretty near the Spanish border, I am sorry to leave London, and never shaU forget my two months here. It has been great fun, and the hospitality of everybody has been most abundant. The last week has been busy sociaUy, LONDON. 307 The pleasantest evening, perhaps, was Tuesday at Mr. Gladstone's, where I had a good sight of and talk -with the great man, and gazed at a multitude of splendid folks with diaraonds and titles. He is certainly the greatest man in England, and the look of him is quite worthy of his fame. Another evening I dined in the Jerusalem Chamber with the Dean and Chapter of the Abbey, and the members of their choir. That was very joUy, and recaUed the time eight years ago when I went to the same dinner and sat by Stanley's side. This moming I am going to preach for Llewellyn Davis, whom you and I once went to hear in St. Paul's. He is a most interesting man and one of the best spirits in the English Church. This -will be my last sermon in England, Mr. MacmiUan has asked me to publish the sermons which I have preached here, un der the title " Sermons Preached to English Congre gations," and I have about made up ray mind to do so. He is the publisher of my last volume. This one wiU have thirteen sermons, and be a pleasant memento of my English visit. I have declined the in-vitation to come and preach at Cambridge next spring, but they have intimated that it -will be repeated some other year, and then I should Uke to corae and make a uni versity visit, I have seen nothing of the universities this time, I want to see you all dreadfully, , , , P, London, July 15, 1883. My dear Hattie, ^ — It was most kind of you to take up the pen which your husband had so long dropped, and write me the pleasant letter which I got last week, and it seems that its quiet rebidie was felt, for John -wrote the next day. Behold the noble ^ A sister-in-law. 308 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. influence of a good wife ! . . . Now I think of you as having the hapiDiest of suraraers in your seashore home. As I listen Marionwards, I hear a rich, low sound of which I am not quite sure whether it is the moaning of the sea, as it beats on your back doorstep, or the theological discussions of B , P , and J under the haystack. Either sound would be delight ful. To have them both together in your ears aU day must be a little heaven below, and it must be all the pleasanter to you this year, because you can look back to such a bright, successful winter in Springfield, and look forward to another, which wUl no doubt be stiU better. I am so thankful to hear of the way in which every difficulty has disappeared. , , , I wish I could hope to run to Marion this autumn, and see you on your own rocks, with your young barbarians at play about you. But I shall be home too late, and dear me ! I soraetimes pleasantly shiver in the midst of this delightful idleness at the thought of how much there is to do next -winter. It is Uke thinking of January in July. But, fortunately, less and less de pends on us, and the younger clergy, who read Second Lessons at the Diocesan Convention, have the brunt of the battle. Give my tenderest love to your young clergyman. TeU him I thank him heartily for his letter. Be sure that I thank you sincerely for yours. Kiss the babies for me, and remember that I am always, Affectionately, P. Pau, Sunday, July 22, 1883. Dear William, — The curtain has fallen and risen again; the whole scene has changed. London, with all its fun, is far away, and here we are close to the PAU. 309 Pyrenees, It is delightfuUy cool and pleasant, and the view out of my window is wonderfully beautfful. I have time enough to look at it, for I am laid up with a lame leg. On the way from Chartres to Bor deaux I struck my leg in lea-ving the railway coach, and this morning I sent for a French doctor, who bade me lie stUl to-day. So here I am, writing, like M., on a book instead of a table. The queer little doctor assures me that it wiU be aU right to-raorrow morning, and then we shaU push on up to Eaux Bonnes. It is only a bruise, I believe. Paine is as kind as kind can be, and does everything for rae, and we are ha-ving a delightful tirae. Just now he has gone out to see the to-wn, and I am trying to write in this miserable way upon my back. I am busy getting my volurae of serraons ready for Macraillan. Seven of them are fmished, and theie will be seven more. The volmne wiU be called " Ser mons Preached in English Churches," and wiU be dedicated " To many friends in England, in reraera brance of their cordial welcome." I never can forget how hospitable English people were. I counted up, before I left London, sixty separate occasions on which I had been entertained, and at almost aU I had seen interesting people. We left London last Thursday c We came through that night to Chartres, which Paine had never seen, and the next night to Bordeaux, and yesterday here. I have been buying a lot of books in London, and just before I left, Mac millan kindly undertook to have thera packed and sent to your care. There wiU be one or two big boxes of them. WiU you see to them when they arrive, and have thera sent to my house? They are aU for my 310 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. own use, mostly theological books, and ought to pass as tools of trade. Of course, ff they must pay duty, you wiU pay it for me. They have been bought so misceUaneously in many places, one here and another there, that I cannot say just what they have cost, but it is about $800 or |900. You must do what you think best about it, and I hope it wiU not give you a great deal of trouble. , , . Yours affectionately, P, Bagneres db Luchon, Sunday, July 29, 1883. Dear William, — , , , We have had a splendid Pyrenean week. Great mountains -with sno-wy sides, beautiful rich valleys, wild ravines, quaint viUages, a handsome, happy people, and bright skies, — anybody ought to look back with pleasure on a whole week of these. It is not exactly Uke any other country which I know. Perhaps it is more like some parts of the Tyrol than anything else. It reminds me at times of some parts of the road up the vaUey of the Inn, which you and I drove up together once. There is a luxuri ance about these vaUeys, of which I hardly ever saw the like. The way they overrun with water is delicious. You are never away from the sound of a brook or a waterfaU. Streams run by the side of every road. There are fountains in every man's back yard, every bank has a smaU cascade tumbling over it, and aU the rocks look as if Moses had been about here with his rod, striking out right and left. Last night the abundance of waters culminated in a drenching rain, and we reached here in the midst of floods. This morning all is bright as Paradise. It is a garden of a place, way up in the hills, and the Frenchmen have BAGNERES DE LUCHON. 311 made a pretty summer resort of it. I am stiU a Uttle larae, and am lying by to get weU. The week's travel ing has not given me much chance to repair my leg, and I hope my conversation has been better than ray walk. Taking pity on my imprisonment, the band came this morning and played under my window, and the Frenchmen and Frenchwomen stroUed up and do-wn, and the sun shone, and it was like a sort of Class Day up in the Pyrenees on Sunday. It is as pretty as a picture. There was a great deal grander place which we saw the other day at Gavarnie, where a wUd vaUey pierces into the hiUs until it brings up against a tremendous waU of rock in a great araphitheatre, and has to stop because it can get no farther. It is like a splendid end of the world. You can only guess what lies on the other side of the rocks, heaven or hell. Really, it is Spain, which is a little of both. Out of the side of the high wall leaps a cascade, 1300 feet high, and tumbles down into a caldron of mist and foara. It is a wonderful place. Last Wednesday morning we were at Lourdes, one of the strangest places in the world, and suggestive of all sorts of thoughts and questions. It was here that al most thirty years ago a little girl saw the Virgin Mary standing in a grotto, and a spring burst out whieh since that has been curing hosts of sick people, who have come from the ends of the earth. Now there is a gorgeous church there, crowds of worshipers, a hun dred thousand pilgrims yearly, and a heap of disused crutches and camp stools, which the cured have left behind them. The street through the to-wn is one long market of crosses, and pictures, and rosaries, and statuettes of Mary. The whole was wonderfully like 312 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. the street which leads down to the Ganges at Benares, with its booths full of brass images of Vishnu, Siva, Ganesha, and Kali. To-morrow we shaU be off to Toulouse, and then by the Grande Chartreuse to Geneva, where we spend next Sunday. . , , Ever affectionately, P- HStel de la Paix, Geneva, August 5, 1883. Dear William. — Yesterday I received your let ter of July 23, which gave me the greatest anxiety about poor little G . It is very hard indeed that she should have had a relapse, and lost something of the hard-won ground. I hate to think how she must have suffered this long winter and spring. My com fort is, that the news is two weeks old, and before this she must be in Sharon, which is to be the foun tain of life to her. If I believed aU the wonderful stories of what it does, I should send you a bottle of the miraculous water of Lourdes, and we would be grateful worshipers of the Virgin for aU the good that it might do the dear little thing. I shall not do that, but I shaU be very anxious until, next Sunday at Interlaken, I hear of your reaching Sharon and what are the results. Do you reraember this hotel, and the forenoon which we spent at Geneva ? It is as bright as ever, and the lake this Sunday morning is shining like a monstrous jewel. Do you reraember how we talked about the Grande Chartreuse and the possibility of getting there, but finaUy concluded that it was too remote and took the train for Basle and Strasburg instead ? We came out of the Pyrenees by Toulouse GENEVA. 313 and Nimes, and spent last Friday night up at the Grande Chartreuse. Arthur and Lizzie went there last year. Whether they spent the night or not I do not know. The drive up to the wonderful old nest of the monks is very fine. Most splendid vaUeys, at first open and broad and bathed in sunshine, and then gro-wing narrower and wilder, untU they were nothing but woody gorges ; and finaUy opening into the Uttle plateau on which the raonastery buUdings stand and seera to fill the whole place from one mountain side to the other. There are about forty fathers there, Carthusians, in their picturesque white cloaks and cowls. Solitude and silence is their rule. They spend the bulk of the time in their ceUs, where they are supposed to be med itating. I suspect that the old gentlemen go to sleep. There was a strange, ghostly service, which began at a quarter before eleven o'clock at night and lasted until two in the morning. The chapel was dim and misty, the white figures came gliding in and sat in a long row, and held dark lanterns up before their psal ters and chanted away at their psalms like a long row of singing rauraraies. It made you want to run out in the yard and have a game of ball to break the speU. Instead of that, after watching it for half an hour, we crept back aloqg a vast corridor to the ceUs which had been aUotted us, each with its priedieu aud its crucifix, and went to bed in the hardest, shortest, and Imnpiest of beds. In the raorning a good deal of the romance and awfulness was gone, but it was very fine and interesting, and the drive down into the vaUey on the other side at Chambery was as pretty as a whole gallery of pictures. Thence we came by rail, and reached here Friday night. 314 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. Yesterday we drove out to Ferney and saw where Voltaire used to live ; looked at the bed in which he used to sleep and at the church which he buUt, It has over its front door perhaps the strangest of aU strange inscriptions which men have carved on churches, — "Deo Erexit Voltaire," Here we faU into the tide of travel again, and Americans abound. The Suters are aU here, I shaU preach to them in the American church this morning, and I shall find myself looking for you and your family two pews behind them. Richard Weld and his wffe and sons are also here, and a lot of other Americans whom I never saw, but feel as if I had seen every day of my life. , . , Seven weeks from to day I preach in Trinity, , . . MuRREN, August 12, 1883. Dear William, — I went to church this morning in a little thing which the preacher declared to be the most splendidly situated church in Christendom, and I rather think he was right. Do you remember when we were at Interlaken and went over to Grindelwald, how after it stopped raining we climbed up to the Wengern-Alp and looked the Jungfrau in the face ? On the other side of the Lauterbrunnen VaUey, into which we descended that day, stands the great hiU upon whose top is Miirren. We carae here yesterday after noon, and such a Sunday as this was hardly ever seen. From extreme right to extreme left was one unbroken range of the very highest of snowy peaks, and aU clay they have been superbly clear. I remember one Sun day, with a fellow up on the Gornergrat, which must MJJRREN. 315 have been about as fine. Finer Sundays than those two, nobody ever had anywhere. There are a multitude of English and German people here, but so far as I have learned, R. T. Paine, Jr., and I are the only Americans. The preacher this morning was an old English friend. Dr. Butler, the master of Harrow School, and he is the only person whom I ever saw before. But that is all the better, for one has nothing to do but stare at the hills. I saw the first sunlight strike them at haff past four this morning. Besides staring at them, I have been en gaged to-day in reading my own sermons. Half the proof of the new volmne reached me from MacmiUan yesterday, and I have read the interesting discourses through to-day. I hope the public -wiU not get so tired of thera as I have. To-morrow we go down again to Interlaken, then to Lucerne, over that Brunig Pass where you and I drove once in the dust, thence through the new St. Gotthard tunnel to lake Como, and then a journey by a back road through northern Italy, coraing out in the Dolo- raites and working back to Paris by Munich. We shall be in Paris about the 5th of September, and six weeks from to-day I preach in Trinity. . . , TeU G. I shall expect her to come and raake me a visit just as soon as the old house gets to rights again. I will feed her up and get her well, show her all the pretty things I have bought, and give her a lot of the prettiest for her ownty-donty. How I wish you were aU here this afternoon, with John, Arthur, and their famiUes. Perhaps we can get up a great as sembly at Andover next summer. I am hoping for a letter from you to-morrow at Interlaken. I am glad the Andover window is done and is so satisfactory. I am eager to see it. There goes an avalanche. . . . 316 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. MiJRREN, August 13, 1883. My dear Lizzie, — I ara not quite sure whether I owe you a letter, or you owe me one, I rather think our last letters crossed upon the road, and that always leaves a doubt. I imagine that a good many corre spondences have died that way. But ours shaU not, I wiU -write to you anyhow, and show you that I am not mean. You have been at Miirren, have n't you ? and can anything be finer than this Biger and Monch and Grosshorn and Breithorn and Mittaghorn ? We have spent two whole days up here, reading novels and staring at the hills. Eaeh morning at haff past four we have seen the first sunlight strike the peaks, and aU day the sky has been cloucUess. Now we are going to turn our backs upon it and walk do-wn to Lauter brunnen. Every step now seems a step homeward, for six weeks from yesterday I ara going to preach in Trinity again. It -wiU seem strange to stand at that little desk once more. I shall crawl back before the people return to town, ancl when they come, fuU of the recoUections of the splendors of last winter, they wiU find only me. But I shaU enjoy it if they don't, and then the old Ufe wiU begin again. There will be some changes, but it is good to know that I shaU find you and Arthur just as I left you, only I want to see the new church and enjoy it, as I know I shaU. . . . . . . And where are you? Roaming along the shores of Grand Menan, or reveling like Sybarites in the luxurious life of " up the river." . , . You wiU come on to the General Convention and look at us, while we are sitting in the great assembly, will you not ? And on the way there and back, I shall steal quiet evenings for logomachy and talk in the Madi- TRENTO. 317 son Avenue herraitage. How nice and famUiar it aU sounds, and it is almost here. WiU you not meet us in Brussels, where we parted, and we wiU peel off sticky photographs for an evening, and then come home together. My love to Arthnr. Ever affectionately, P, Trbnto, Sunday, August 19, 1883. Dear Gertie, — I bought the prettiest thing you ever saw for you the other day. If you were to guess for three weeks, making two guesses every minute, you could not guess what it is. I shall not teU you, because I want you to be aU surprised to pieces when you see it, and I am so impatient to give it to you that I can hardly wait. Only you must be in a great hurry and get weU, because you see it is only five weeks from to-day that I shaU expect to see you in the dear old study in Clarendon Street, where we have had such a lot of good times together before now. Just think of it ! We '11 set the music box a-going, and light aU the gaslights in the house, and get my doU out of her cupboard, and dress Tood up in a red pocket handkerchief and stand her up on the study table, and make her give three cheers ! And we 'U have some gingerbread and lemonade. I 've got a lot of things for you besides the one which I bought for you the other day. You could n't guess what it is if you were to guess forever, but this is the best of aU, and when you see it you -wiU jump the rheumatism right out of you. I hope you -wiU be quite weU by that time. What sort of a place is Sharon ? Do not write to me about it, but teU me aU about it when I see you. What a lot you wdU have to tell. You can tell me what was in that Christ- 318 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. mas letter which the wicked maU-man never brought to me. Good-by, dear Uttle girl. Don't you wish you knew what it was that I bought for you the other day? Give my love to Agnes and Tood. Your affectionate uncle, P- Trento, August 19, 1883. Dear Mary, — I have come to another place which seems to justify a letter to you. Three hundred and twenty-eight years ago, a lot of clergymen climbed up here into the mountains and held the Council of Trent, and fixed forever the Church of Rome. Last night Paine and I arrived here in the train, and are holding our council now in the Hotel de Trento. This morn ina: we went to the old church in which the Council sat, and there we listened to a sermon which we did not understand, looked at a crowded congregation of people (as different from that which meets in Trinity as anybody can imagine), and wondered how the old church looked when the Bishops and Archbishops were sitting there in council three hundred and twenty-eight years ago. Just in front of me was a poor old weather-beaten lady, who went fast asleep in the sermon time and woke up beautifuUy refreshed when it was over. I rather think the sleep did her raore good than the serraon would have done, for she looked as if she had been overworked ever since she was a baby, and that was long ago. On the walls hung a picture of the Council, and after ser-vice we went off to the other church, where is the crucifix before which aU the Tridentine Fathers, when their long work was over, said their prayers. How modem it raakes our INNSBRUCK. 319 General Convention of this autumn look, and yet it is the modern things that are of more interest to us than aU the old ones ; ahd raore iraportant to rae to-day, a great deal, than the Council of Trent is poor Uttle G.'s chamber at Sharon. I wonder whether, in the two weeks since she went there, the waters have done her good. I cannot teU you how anxious I am, or how, getting the news only once a week, I wait in suspense to hear -what the blue envelopes will bring which the Barings send to meet us. If I were at home, I would take the train to Sharon and see what sort of a nurse I should make for the dear little wo man. At least I could know how it fared with her, and perhaps you would not mind having me about, and if I were very much in the way I could go out and smoke my cigar behind the house. But it is not long now. Five weeks frora to-day 1 shaU be in the old place again. I will not think of anything else than that then you will be back from Sharon, with G. vastly better for it, ancl the new house as lively as a summer's day. And then what a winter we wiU have. There goes the church-bell again ! They are going to have another meeting in the Council chureh, but I shaU stay at home and -write my letters. To-morrow morning a carriage will start with us for a three days' drive through the glorious Dolomites, and next Sunday I shaU hear at Wildbad-Gastein how you aU are. . . . Tyroler Hof, Innsbruck, August 26, 188:1. Dear William, — , , . We ordered letters sent to Bad Gastein, but when we reached Innsbruck (you remember Innsbruck) we found there was to be to-day a Passion Play at Brixlegg, a little village only an 320 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. hour from here, and we determined to stop over. We have spent the whole Sunday there, and it has been a wonderfuUy interesting day. Thirteen years ago I started for Ober-Ammergau, and the Franco-Prussian war stopped the play before I reached there. This Brixlegg play is Ober-Aramergan on a smaU scale and in rather a more primitive fashion. The whole story of Christ's Passion, from the Entry into Jerusalem to the Resurrection, is acted by the peasants in the most devout fashion, and with a power and feeling that are very wonderful. It occupies about five hours, with an intermission of an hour and a haff in the raidst. It is given in a rude barn-like building, set up for the purpose, with curious quaint scenery, and most effec tive tableaux. It is a good thing to see once, for it is a rare remnant of what was comraon in the Middle Ages, and furnishes a remarkable study of the character of the people to whom such a thing is a possibility. , . • I -wiU tell you aU about this when I get home, if you want to hear. Innsbruck looks just as it did when you and I drove out of it five years ago on the way to the Stelvio. The big mountain still throws its shadow down the Theresien Strasse, and the wonderful bronze people stand around Maximilian's tomb in the Hof Kirche. But only think. The railway runs all the way to Imst, and the steara whistle has vulgarized the lovely vaUey. Are you not glad we went there first ? Perhaps it has iraproved the Imst Hotel ! This last week I thought of you at the first sight of the Inn Valley, but up to that time we were in the Dolomites, where the associations were rather with Arthur, who traveled there with me in the early days, before you and I were feUow-travelers. INNSBRUCK. 321 To-morrow we are off for Bad Gastein, and then come Ischl, Salzburg, and next Sunday, Munich ; then, Paris and London. Two weeks from next Wednes day we set sail. So I shaU send you only one more letter. But I shaU hear from you, and I will thank you ever so much if you telegraph me just one word to the Cephalonia at Queenstown upon the 12th. Four weeks from tonight, perhaps we shaU be smoking to gether in the rectory, , , , Innsbruck, August 26, 1883. Dear Gertie, — How I envy the little Tyrolese girls their health and strength to-day ! I wanted to steal half of it, and send it horae in a box to you. They never would have missed it, for they have a great deal more health than they know what to do -with. Their cheeks are as red as the sunset, and they look as if they never heard of such a thing as rheuraatism ! But never mind, I ara coraing home soon now, and you will forget aU about this ugly -winter. I have been seeing the people in a little -vUlage to day act a part of the New Testament story. A lot of the children took part in it, and I send you a photo graph of one of them, a little girl who walked in the procession which carae with Jesus into Jerusalem on Palra Sunday. She was a cunning little thing, and carried her palm branch as you see, and cried, " Ho sanna ! " as she walked along, I -wish you had been there to see her. Was it not funny that I shoidd hear about you on the street at Innsbruck ? You see how famous you are and how people know about you all over the world. The person who knew about you here was Miss Wales, who came out of a shop last Friday afternoon just as 322 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. we were going in. She looked just like a slice out of old Boston, and she had some letters from home about your visit to Sharon, or perhaps she saw it in the papers ! I wonder if you will be back when I get home, and I wonder if you will be glad to see me ! I got you an other present the other day, but you could n't guess what that is either. Good-by ! Get well ! And give my love to Agnes and Tood. I think of you a great deal. Your affectionate uncle, P, Munich, Septeraber 2, 1883. Dear Gertie — When I came away, the first man that wrote rae a letter only two days after the Servia had steamed out of New York Bay was you. And now that I ara coraing horae, the last letter which I write from the Old World to any man in America shall be to you. For I want to teU you myself that I shall see you on September 22. I suppose you wiU not be quite able to run over to the wharf at East Boston when the Cephalonia gets in, but I shall come up to see you just as soon as the custom house people let me out of prison, after I have paid the duties upon aU the heaps of presents I have got for you ! Wasn't it good that the baths at Sharon helped you so much ? I was at a place the other day where the people take baths for rheumatism. It is called Bad Gastein, but it is n't bad at all ; it is very good. It is away back in the hills, and there 's a tremendous water fall which runs right through the house, and keeps up such a racket that you can't get any sleep. But that does no great harm, because you have to take your bath so early that, if it were not for the waterfall in the next room, you would sleep over and never get MUNICH. 323 your bath at all, and so some time you might have the rheumatism aU your life. I didn't have any rheu matism, so I went and took a bath for yours, and I rather think that is what made you feel so rauch better. You thought it was the baths you were tak ing at Sharon, but it was reaUy the bath I wae taking at Bad Gastein ! I wonder how soon you -will come and see me when I get back. Everybody here eats his breakfast, and luncheon, and dinner outdoors. I like it, and think I shall do so myseff when I get horae ; so when you come to breakfast, we will have our table out on the grass plot in Newbury Street, and Katie shaU bring us our beefsteak there. Will it not make the children stare as they go by to school ? We 'U toss the crumbs to thera and the robins. But you raust hurry and get weU, or we cannot do all this. My love to Agnes and Tood. Your affectionate uncle, P. Hotel Baierischer Hof, Munich, September 2, 1883. Dear William, — ... This last day of home writ ing makes me feel queer. I wonder whether it is really true that three weeks from to-day I am to preach in Trinity. I wonder whether I shall reaUy look so old and thin that people wiU not know me. I wonder whether those heathen are still chattering and chaffer ing in the Chandni-Chauk at Delhi. I wonder whether I have reaUy got enough benefit out of aU this pleas ant year to make it worth while to have come. This last wonder is the hardest of all. Sometimes I think I have, and then again I do not know. At any rate I shall try, and if I find when I begin to preach that I am reaUy as idiotic as I sometimes seem to myseff. 324 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. there are several little hidden nooks in Europe which I know, where I can go and hide my disgrace, and nobody wiU hear of me any more forever. But per haps it wiU not come to that. . . . Why cannot you make use of my house this autumn, until your own is thoroughly dry and safe ? Pray do not think of going into it. You must not let G, run the slightest danger of a relapse. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to find you all in Clarendon Street. On my return, on the 2d of October, I go to Philadelphia ; shall practicaUy be absent aU that month, and you can have free swing. So pray do go there, and please me. You remember this hotel and the bright, pretty city. . . . But what 's the use of writing, when I shaU be at home a week after you get this. My last letter. Hurrah ! Hurrah ! My final love ; I am coming home. Affectionately, P. ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 1885. Steamship Etruria, May 15, 1885. My dear Gertie, — This letter wiU show you that I have got safely over to Queenstown. The people are just finishing their breakfasts in the cabin, that is, the lazy ones who have come up late from their state rooms. I had my breakfast two hours ago, and have been walking up and down the deck since then. There are a lot of people up there, among them a good many children. Some very nice-looking boys ! Everybody seems to have had a pleasant voyage. There has been no storm, and most of the time the water has been as quiet as a bath tub. On Sunday it was a little rough. The Doctor read service, and we had no sermon, be cause the people wanted to get on deck again. I received the letter which you all wrote to me. I found it on the table in the cabin, just after the steamer sailed. It was very good of you to write, and it made a very pleasant last good-by, after uncle Arthur had left me on deck, and I thought I should not see or hear from anybody I knew, at least for a whole week. ... I wish you were here ! We would go to walk on the deck and see the people play shuffleboard, then we would find a quiet place behind the smokestack and sit down and smoke. I suppose you are getting 326 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. ready to go up to North Andover. Do take good care of " Tom," and do not let the pony bully him, , . . When you get this, think of me in London having a beautiful time . . , Ever and ever Your affectionate uncle, P. Westminster Palace Hotel, London, May 21, 1885. Dear William, — Here it is, begun aU over again in the old fashion. The old hotel, the same dingy outlook from the -windows, and the same chimes from the Abbey beUs every quarter of an hour ! We reached here yesterday afternoon at the end of our fourth day on shore. The voyage was very swift, pleasant, and uneventful. The Etruria is a superb ship, rather inclined to roll, when there seems to be no reason for it, but going through the water at a tre mendous rate. , . . The only celebrity on board was Mr. Froude, who kept very much to his stateroom and was hardly seen. I am afraid the great historian was iU. We landed on Sunday morning at LiverjDool, and I went to church, and saw and heard Bishop Ryle. Monday we spent in Chester, and went out to the Duke of Westminster's place, Eaton Hall, and also to Mr. Gladstone's Hawarden Castle. Neither of the great men was at home, but we looked at their houses. . . . Then we carae on to Leamington, and saw War wick Castle, Kenilworth, and Stratford-on-Avon, and then here. I saw Archdeacon Farrar yesterday afternoon, and found hira well. I am to dine with him on Saturday to meet Browning and LoweU and Arnold, and the new Bishop of London, Dr. Temple. I saw my god son, who is staying with his grandfather, in the absence LONDON. 327 of his parents from London for a few days. He is a round, fat, English baby. Friday Moming, May 22. Yesterday was a busy London day, and I did not finish my letter. Now it shall go to tell you that I am weU and happy. Think of me on the 31st of May at Oxford ; on the 7th of June at Harrow in the morning, and in Westminster Abbey in the evening ; on the 14th of June at Cambridge, I -will think of you aU getting ready for North Andover, and by and by going there, and having, I hope, a lovely sumraer. Already I am beginning to think how good next summer will be when we are all there together, and " Tom " has gro-vra to his maturity, and the old place has reaUy corae to look and feel as if it had be gun a new life for our generation. . . . I have not heard from you yet, though I got two letters forwarded by you and mailed the day we sailed. Not a bit of excitement here, apparently, about war or cholera, but both subjects quietly and very seriously talked about. Good-by, and my best love to aU of you. May you be kept safe and happy. Affectionately, P. Westminster Palace Hotel, London, M.ay 29, 1,^85. Dear Gertie, — I received your note and Toodie's early this week, and to-night comes your father's to tell me that you were thinking of me as late as the 15th of May. I believe you are thinking of me still. Certainly I am thinking of you, and hoping you are aU weU and doing aU sorts of delightful things. It 328 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. does not seem as if it could be only three weeks this morning that I said good-by to you and took the train for New York. But it is, and I have been in Lon don now more than a week. What have I done ? Let me see. Last Sunday morning I preached at St. Margaret's in the forenoon ; in the afternoon went to St. Paul's Cathedral, and heard Canon Scott HoUand, . . . Monday we went to Windsor Castle, but it was rainy, and besides that it was " Bank HoUday," so there was a tremendous crowd, and we did not see very much, Tuesday I went do-vni to the Bishop of Rochester's and spent the night, and it was very pleas ant. He has a great big house and park, and every thing very complete and pretty. It was a lovely day, the hawthorns were just blooming, and the grass and old trees were lovely, . , , On Wednesday I went to a big dinner-party, and I had a very good tirae. Thursday I went do-wn to the country and spent the day with some nice people who live in an old manor house, in a place called Chig- well. There is a school-house there where William Penn used to go to school, before he founded Penn sylvania, and there are many other interesting things. To-day we have had a long drive to Hampton Court, Richmond, and Kew, and seen no end of queer and delightful sights ; and now to-night I am writing to you, so you see I am very busy. To-morrow I go to Oxford, where I spend three days, seeing the univer sity and looking at all the great men. It has been cold and bleak, but now the weather is getting bright and warm, and the country is prettier than anything you ever saw, except North Andover. I have not seen Nora Buchanan, but I saw her mo ther, the other day. Nora had gone to school, and LONDON. 329 was very weU. I wonder when you are going to North Andover. You must teU me when you write again, so that I can think of your getting settled and feel what a good time you are having. Remeraber that the corn-barn belongs to you, and you must be the mistress there. But do let S. and A. come in when they want to. Give thera my love, and also to your father and mother. Do not forget that I am Your affectionate uncle, P. London, June 5, 1885. Dear William, — . . , Saturday I went to Ox ford and stayed at the Vice-ChanceUor's, Dr. Jow ett's. Other people were staying there, and it was very bright and pleasant. On Sunday afternoon I preached the university sermon in St. Mary's Church, , , . The service was at two o'clock, an hour when I think nobody ever went to church before. Four men came to the Vice-ChanceUor's house, and Dr. Jowett and I fell in behind them, and they escorted us along the street as far as the church. When we reached the church, another man took us in charge and brought us to the foot of the pulpit stairs, where the Vice-Chan- ceUor and I solemnly bowed to one another, and he went up into his throne and I went up into the pidpit. Then I preached, ... I spent the next two days in Oxford, and had a lovely time, going to all sorts of meetings, dining with the dons, seeing the raen I wanted raost to see, being rowed on the river, and all that. The weather was lovely ; you cannot think how beautiful the place looked. . . , Your brother, P, 330 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. Westminster Palace Hotel, London, June 12, 1885. Dear Gertie, — , , , I have been running up and down this big world of London and seeing a lot of people, and every now and then going off into the country, which is wonderfully pretty now, with haw thorn and lilacs and laburnums aU in bloora. Last Sunday I went out to Harrow, where there is a great school, and there I preached to five hundred boys. How A. would like to go there, would n't she ? In the afternoon I carae back into town, and preached in Westrainster Abbey to a host of people. The great place looked splendid, and it was fine to preach there. Yesterday I went twenty miles into the coun try, and preached at an ordination of forty new min isters. The fields were bright with daisies, and I won dered how North Andover was looking. You must be just packing up to go there now. Even with all the beauty of England, it makes me quite homesick when I think about it. You must teU me aU about the removal there, and how you get settled, and how your corn-barn looks, and what new things you find to do in the old place ; and you must have it all ready for rae on September 12, when I mean to come up early in the morning and spend the whole solid week quietly there. That will be just three months from to-day. . , , I go to Cambridge for next Sunday, and then to Oxford for Commemoration and my degree. Good- by ; my best of love to all and you. Affectionately, Uncle P. LONDON. 331 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, June 18, 1885. My dear Tood, — You certainly deserve a letter, for your letters to me have been delightful and have made me very happy. I am sorry you have given up the poetry, because it was very interesting and amus ing. Perhaps now that the strain of school is over, and you are among the sweet sights and sounds and smeUs of North Andover, you will drop into verse again. I shall be glad to hear you sing once more. Write me a poem about " Tom." I am having a beautfful time, and I wish you all were here. If you were, I would get a big carriage this morning, and we would all go driving about London and out into Hyde Park, and perhaps far away into the country. We would see the rhododendrons, which are in full bloom now, and we would wish that the grass on the la-wn in North Andover could be made to look haff as soft and green as the grass on these beautiful English fields. I have just come back from Oxford. You should have seen me yesterday walking about the streets in my Doctor's gown. It was a red gown with black sleeves, and is awfully pretty. It was only hired for the occasion, for it costs ever so much money, and I did not care to buy one. So you wiU never see how splendid I looked in it, for I shaU never have it on again, , , , Affectionately your Uncle P. Westminster Palace Hotel, London, Jime 19, 1885. Dear William, — I hope you are well and happy, and I wish very much that I could see you all to-day. 332 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. You must be safe at Andover long before this, and I know how pretty it must be looking, I shall get a bit of it at the end of the season. It seems to be settled now that Archdeacon Farrar and his two friends wiU come with me on the Pavonia, September 2. I hope we shaU arrive in Boston on Saturday, the 12th. Then we shall spend Sunday in Boston at the Brunswick. Monday I shaU go with them as far as the White Mountains on their way to Canada, and then about Wednesday come back on the Boston & Maine Railroad to Andover. How I wish you could put off your vacation till then, and go with us to the mountains, and have a leisure week at Andover after our return. Think of it and try and do so. TeU M. how delightful it will be if she can join us for the mountains. We need stay there but a day or two, -visiting merely Crawford's and the Glen. I have had a busy and delightful week. Saturday afternoon I went to Cambridge, getting there just in tirae for the boat races, which were very picturesque and pretty. After that came a supper at Professor Jebb's, with lots of dons and professors. Sunday I spent at the Vice-ChanceUor's, Dr. Ferrers' at the Lodge in Caius College. At two o'clock I preached the university sermon in Great St. Mary's to a big and iraposing congregation. It was the Tolerance lecture which you heard in Cambridge, and it went off very weU. Monday I roamed about among the beautiful colleges, lunched with an undergraduate, who had a pleasant party, and went to a big dinner party at the Jebbs'. Tuesday morning I went to Oxford, a slow four hours' ride, took lunch at Dr. Jowett's with some great university folks, and then went to the public theatre, where we had our D. D. degrees conferred on LONDON. 333 us with queer cereraonies, I send you sorae papers which tell about it. The next day, Wednesday, was the great Coraraeraoration Day, with the conferring of the D. C. L. degrees, and a coUege luncheon and a brilliant garden party in the afternoon. Then I came back to London, and last night went to a dinner given in honor of the Precentor of the Abbey. To night I dine with Mr, Bryce, whom you remeraber at om' Matthew Arnold dinner of last winter. So it goes aU the tirae ; but after two weeks raore it wiU be over. On the 3d of July we go on to the Continent, and life wiU be quieter, or at least it wiU have a differ ent sort of bustle. , , . I have not been anywhere, except in London and at the universities, during aU this visit. The papers tell us it is very hot with you. Here it is cool and pleasant. The crisis and change of governraent of course keeps everything excited. Gladstone goes out with honor, having saved the world a war. My kind love to aU. Ever affectionately, P, Westminster Palace Hotel, London, June 25, 1885. Dear Mary, — ... I love to think of you aU at North Andover, and to look forward to the tune when I shall be with you. The plan of which I wrote last week has fallen through. Archdeacon Farrar and his friends have made up their minds that they must saU direct for Canada, and so I shall corae alone in the Pavonia, and the AAThite Mountain trip wiU not take place. I shaU corae to North Andover on Monday morning, the 14th of Septeniber, and stay there quietly as long- as I can. Archdeacon Farrar's party will not reacli Boston until the first of November. 334 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. Everything here has been delightful. People have been very kind, and in-vitations flow in in far greater numbers than I can accept. It has been very interest ing to be here during the political crisis and see the English people change their government. Right in the thick of it I met Mr. Gladstone at dinner at Mr, Bryce's, and he was fuU of spirits and as merry as a boy. Our new minister, Mr. Phelps, was there, and Senator Edmunds, and it was very interesting to see the English and Araerican statesmen meet. I was invited by Lord Aberdeen to go to his country place and spend Smiday with Mr. Gladstone, but I had promised to preach here and could not go. I was very sorry, for it would have been a capital chance to see the great man familiarly. I am just back from Lincoln, where I have spent the day and preached this afternoon in the magnificent cathedral. On Saturday I go to Salisbury to stay with the Dean, and preach in that cathedral on Sunday, Monday I come back to town, and dine on Tuesday with the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth Pal ace. Wednesday I start off to meet the Paines, who have been absent for two weeks in Scotland, and we shall travel together somewhere for a week ; then back to London and off together to the Continent, about the time you get this note. We have had hardly any heat, and to-day is as cold as March, but the country is looking glorious, and the to-wn is as gay as Marlborough Street in February, AA^'hat are you all doing ? And how does the old house look with its green grass and yellow hitching-post ? Is Tom still alive after his hard winter's experience ? How I wish I could look in on you to-night. It is most midnight here, but you are just about finishing TINTERN. 335 supper and sitting do-wn to logomachy. I have not seen the blessed game since we played it in Clarendon Street the night before I left. You must thank Ag-nes and Susie for their last letters. The New York trip must have been a great event. Yesterday I thought about Commencement and wished I was there. I hope Arthur was with you. Good-night. . . . Ever and ever affectionately, P. Tintern, July 2, 1&85. Dear William, — A happy new year to you, and a great many more of them for years to come. You have had a good time for the last fifty-one years, and I am sure you have helped other people (such as I) to have a great many good times all along. Now you are just in the prime of Ufe, with ever so many happy years before you, and I congratulate you on both past and future, and send you the heartiest, happy new year across the water. One week more is gone, and now that I have heard from you at North Andover, I feel as if I had really got hold of your sumraer. The children's letters from there made it seem very real and near. . . . The pony seems to be a principal character in the household, and I am rejoiced that Tom has recovered from the trials and humiliations of the winter. ... I spent last Sunday at Salisbury, where I had a delightful day and preached in the cathedral, which is now thoroughly restored, and looks a great deal bet ter than it did when you and I saw it filled with scaffolding. I stayed with the Dean, and saw some very pleasant people. Then I eame back to London, and had two more days there, and on AA^ednesday came off for this little western tour. When you get 336 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. this the Channel wiU have been crossed and the jabber of foreign tongues wiU be about us. The weather is deUghtful and all goes charmingly. . , . Bonn, July 11, 1885. Dear Gertie, — It is a very lovely morning on the Rhine. I am afraid that it will be hot by and by, when the steamboat comes along and we start to go up the river ; but at present, before breakfast, it is very lovely. There is a pretty Adllage with trees and a church tower just across the river, and the little boats keep coming and going, and the children on the bank, in front of the hotel, are playing like kittens, and everything is as bright and sunshiny as if there was n't such a thing as trouble in the world. Speaking of kittens, I wonder if you have found the little thing that used to hide away in the barn, and that the boy could n't catch for a quarter of a doUar. But perhaps she has grown to be a big cat, and is n't worth the catching now, which is the way -with a good many people. When you want them you cannot get them, and when you get them you don't want them, A man has just come and set np a stand in the square under ray window to sell cherries, and the children are looking at them hard, and no doubt wish ing that they had two cents, I would give them two doUars apiece aU around if I could talk German as weU as they can. And so we aU want something which we have not got. I wonder what you want. If it 's anything in Europe, write a letter and tell me the narae of it instantly, and I -will get it for you, . , , We left London on Thursday morning, and I shall not see it again tiU the 1st of August, when I shaU go there to get my playthings together before I sail in SALZBURG. 337 the Pavonia on the 3d. I have had a very beautfful time there, but now I am glad to be traveUng again and on my way to the great mountains. I -wish you were with me and were here this morning. I would give you sorae cherries. I long to see the pony. Next year I think we must have one of our own, or would you like a donkey bet ter, for which G. B. advertised? We must consult Tood about it. My best of love to you aU and to "Tom." Goodby. Your uncle, P. Salzburg, July 15, 1885. Dear William, — When I reached here yester day, I found a group of delightful letters from North Andover, which had the flavor of the old place about them. I think about you now as settled there, with the Jack-o'-lanterns burning on the garden waU. . . . I have left England after a most delightful visit. It was full of interesting occurrences, and I shaU look back upon it with the greatest pleasure. Now we are on our way southward, and after a drive through the Tyrol, we shaU probably bring up for a few days in Venice ; then back to S-witzerland, where we shaU have about three weeks. Seven weeks from this after noon I shall be afloat, headed for Queenstown and Boston. All goes beautifully. The weather is delight ful, and the scenery, pictures, and cathedrals are the same splendid things that they have been for the last twenty years and many years before, TeU G. to keep as right as she can till the llth of September, and after that I wiU look after her; and thank S. for her account of the corn-barn banquet, which made my mouth water very much indeed. , . . The programme for the Church Congress in the 338 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. autumn, which you inclosed in your letter, really made one believe that there was to be a new campaign begun by and by, but it seems very far off now. StiU, I think we will not carry out our little plan of retiring from active life this autumn. Let us wait another year. . , , Ever affectionately, P, Hotel Danieli, Venice, July 24, 1885. My dear Mary, — , , , How pretty it must be with you this afternoon ; not haff as hot as Venice, I am sure. But every now and then a breeze comes floating from the water, and there are gondolas skim ming by, the beautiful St. Giorgio rises opposite out of the sea, and the beUs are lazily ringing for two o'clock, which is the time when the pigeons come to be fed in the Piazza of St. Mark. It is all very soft, and lazy, and beautiful, and the letter which I re ceived the other day from Mr. AUen, about things at Trinity, sounded far away. , . . I -wish you could see it all. The Queen is here, and every evening the young prince comes out on the Grand Canal, and hosts of gondolas are there with lamps and lanterns. Every now and then a company of singers in a gondola goes floating by, the flne band plays in the Royal Gardens, the people shout, " Viva Regina Mar gherita " under the royal windows, the ices of the cafes are really most delicious, and San Marco looks do-wn upon it all in the moonlight and seems to smile. In the raornings, there are great cool galleries fuU of glo rious pictures, and quiet back streets where the people lounge in the doorways and chatter round the fountains. Oh, it is very delightful, and I wish with all my heart that you aU were here, so I do. . , . WENGERN-ALP. 339 Bellagio, July 30, 1885. My dear Gertie, — It is a beautiful warm mom ing on the lake of Corao, so warra that one does not feel like doing anything but sitting stiU and -writing a lazy letter to a dear little girl in America. The water, as I look out of the window, is a delicious blue, and the sweet green hiUs on the other side of the lake are sound asleep in the sunUght, which they like. There is a garden of palm-trees and oleanders right under my window, and the oleanders are aU in gorgeous bloom. A boatman is waiting at the raarble steps, in case any one wants his boat ; but I think he hopes that nobody -will want it, for it must be awfuUy hot rowing upon the lake. This afternoon, when it gets cooler, I shall change aU this and start up to the moun tains, and by to-morrow night I shall be at St. Moritz, among the glaciers and snow-banks. But wherever I am, I am thinking how very pleasant it must be in the old house, and what a good tirae we wiU have when I get back there six weeks frora next Monday afternoon. We wiU not raake any plans for excursions, but just stay quiet on the big piazza, and now and then, when we feel very energetic, make a long trip to the corn- barn. Everybody must come and see us ; we wiU not go to see anybody. . . . Your affectionate uncle, P, Wengern-Alp, August 12, 1885. Dear William, — ... A letter from the AVeng- em-Alp must go to you, for the -view which is before me as I -write brings back raost -vi-vidly the day we clirabed from Grindenwald, and sat and looked at the white beauty for an hour before we scrambled down to Lauter brunnen and went on our way to Thun. I carae up 340 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. the same way yesterday afternoon, on a better horse than I had the day I was with you, and reached here just in time to see the evening light. This morning the sunrise was delightful, and now, as I -write, I can see the glorious Jungfrau with its splendid snow ; and the avalanches keep thundering all the time, and send ing up their clouds of icy dust, I -wish you were here ! . , , What terribly hot days you must have had ! One of the great discoveries of the future -wiU be how to deal with the temperature of the world, and cool a whole city as you cool a refrigerator, or warm a continent as you warm a house. It seems as if the Americans were at home this summer, for I have seen hardly any. Dr. Osgood and his famUy and Mrs. Copley Green and her children were at Lucerne, and I went to see them at the Eng- lisher Hof, after service at that English church where we went, you remember, one Sunday in 1877, Three weeks from to-day I sail ; then, in ten days, I shall see you aU, Affectionately, P. Chamountx, August 19, 1885. Dear Gertie, — Mont Blanc has put his head under a cloud, and there is nothing to be seen outside except a lot of guides and porters waiting for the diligence to come from Geneva. So before the dinner bell rings, I will send off my week's letter, and it shall be to you. Tell Tood that the next week's, which "wiU be the last that I shall -write, shaU be to her, for she has been a good little girl and -written me beautiful letters aU summer. So have you. I got your letter here last night -with the picture of the bird house in the garden on the side of the paper. After you get this letter, remember that you are not to do a single PARIS. 341 thing exciting until I get home, so that you wiU be aU fresh and strong to play with me. . . , Only two weeks frora to-day! Just think of it! Two weeks from now the beautfful Pavonia wiU be steaming away down the Channel, bound for North Andover, and three weeks from next Sunday I shaU stand up in Trinity again. You cannot think how splendid the great mountain was last night. The sky was perfectly clear and the moon was glorious, and the big round dorae of snow shone like another world. The people stood and gazed at it and looked solemn. This morning it had changed, but was no less beautiful. It was like a great mass of silver. And so it stands there and changes from one sort of beauty to another, year after year, and age after age. I think you must have a beautifid time this sum mer with the pony, and next year we raust try to have one of our own. Make up your mind what kind and color he shaU be, and we will look about and see what we can find when I get home. It must be a great sight to see Tood driving aU by her blessed seff, and all the fast horses on the road getting out of the way for fear she will run over thera. . . . Perhaps you and she can drive rae out to Cambridge, mornings iu November, in the pony-cart. I wonder if I shaU go there this year, and whether you wiU go with me, Good-by now. Affectionately, your uncle, P. Grand Hotel, Paris, August 27, 1885. My dear Tood, — It really begins to look as ff I were actuaUy coining horae, for you see the Pavonia arrived yesterday at Liverpool, and she -wiU stay there until next Wednesday, and then she expects rae to go 342 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. back in her. It seems very likely, therefore, that two weeks from day after to-morrow, I shaU come ashore in Boston ; then I shaU see you and have the chance to thank you for aU your pleasant letters, which it has been a very great delight to get, and which have very much reUeved the weariness and troubles of my journey. I think that you are one of the very best letter writers for your time of life that I know, and when you drop into poetry it is beautiful. So I wiU thank you when I get home, and we -will sit in the shadow of the corn-barn and talk it all over. Paris is very bright and gay and pretty. Yester day I went out to the Jardin d'Acclimatation (say that if you can), and the raonkeys were a-wfuUy funny. How would it do to get three monkeys for North Andover, and tie them to a post in the side yard and see them play and fight ? How would Tom like it ? And do you think it would please Johnny, or would he only think they were some more Brooks children ? I am afraid you have not seen much of Johnny this year. That is not wise. For he is a very briUiant little boy, and it would be a great advantage to you and A, if you talked with him. . . . Your affectionate uncle, P. ACROSS THE CONTINENT TO SAN FRANCISCO. 1886. Victoria Hotel, Alamosa, Colorado, May 6, 1886. Dear William, — This is the first letter of the great journey, written in the raidst of the turault of Rayraond tourists and cow-boys, who fill the office of this beautiful hotel, while we are waiting for our dinner. We are on the crest of the continent, a good six thousand feet above the sea, with Pike's Peak and a host of other snow-peaked giants of the Rocky Mountains in full -view, and the queerest shanty-town to stay in that you ever saw. But what a day it is ! Such atmosphere, sunshine, and great outlooks in every direction ! To-day we have been up to the Toltee Gorge, riding through endless plains of sage grass, with queer little prairie dogs sitting, each of thera, on the edge of his hole to see us pass. The Gorge is very fine and picturesque, not up to Switzer land, but with a bigger feeling about it, and altogether mighty good to look at. , . . A very pleasant journey brought me to Chicago Saturday night in the director's car, with the Baker party, who were pleasant people. Sunday I heard Professor Swing in the morning, Osborn in the after- noon, and a man whose name I have forgotten in the evening. I wonder how things went at Trinity ? Then came the ride to Kansas City, crossing the big 344 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. Mississippi at Rock Island and Davenport, Then there was the very beautiful ride across Kansas, and here we are in Colorado, with New Mexico close by. All has gone well. The excursion plan works nicely. The company is pleasant. The days are long and idle. There is a great deal to see, and impressions crowd fast and thick. On the whole it is a good success so far, and better things are promising ahead. It is not Europe, but it is big America, and one is feeling its bigness more and more every day, , , , We must be aU in the best condition for Andover by and by, I am looking forward to that. Affectionately, P, Palace Hotel, Santa Fi^, May 9, 1886, Dear Gertie, — It is very hot here, and the sun is shining do-wn upon my -window dreadfuUy. But the things one sees out of the -window are very queer and interesting. The houses are buUt of mud, and almost aU of them only one story high. Indians and Mexi cans, in bright red and white blankets, walk down the street. Funny little donkeys are wandering about, -with smaU children riding on their backs and kicking them with their small naked heels. There are some barracks across the street with a flag flying, and a few soldiers lounging in the shade. Up the street there is a great cathedral, whose beUs are ringing for some service. We are over seven thousand feet above the sea, and the air is so dry that you are always thirsty and cannot get enough ice water. How I should love to take a Back Bay car and come dovm to one of those lovely five o'clock teas, and drink, and drink, and drink lemonade for three quarters of an hour. , . , NEAR LOS ANGELES. 345 To-morrow we start across the Desert to Calffornia, and when you get this I shaU be at Los Angeles, which everybody says is just as beautfful as Paradise. How I wish you would take a swift car and join rae there. We would eat oranges, and figs, and grapes, and apri cots, and all the good things that raake your raouth water when you think of them. ... I wonder how far your letter to me has got. About to Kansas City, I should think. Give my best love to everybody, and be sure I am your Affectionate uncle, P. Sierra Madre Villa, near Los Angeles, California, May 14, 1886. My dear William, — I wish you could see how beautiful this place is. It is not exactly Uke any thing I ever saw before, though there is something of Italy, and soraething of India, and something of Syria about it. It is a world of vines and oranges, with pahn-trees here and there, the high hills and a few white peaks of the Sierra Nevada standing up behind. The flowers are gorgeous ; masses of roses and hedges of calla lilies all in bloora, honeysuckles and helio tropes growing up like the sides of houses. It is as good a fairy-land as one can find anywhere in this poor world. The way here over the Desert was dreary enough, but very picturesque and striking, and the descent of the long Pacific slope was very beautifid, with countless flowers and all sorts of strange shapes of hiU and vaUey, The great continent is crossed, and though we have not yet seen the Pacific, we are within a few miles of it, and shall get sight of it to-morrow when we go to Santa Monica, which is directly on the coast. The 346 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. journey has gone bravely on, with no mishap. The " excursion " part of it is a decided success. It has reminded me always of an ocean voyage. The excur sionists are like your feUow-passengers, — you get famiUar with their faces, and learn to greet them in the morning. With a few of them you become ac quainted, but you are under no responsibility regard ing them, and make your own companionships just as you please. The comfort of it is delightful. There are no plans to make, no money to pay out, and no time-tables to be studied. Nothing but a little book to go by, and a man to teU you what to do. By aU means, when you come to California be a Raymond Excursionist. , , . Yosemite Valley, May 20, 1886. My dear Mary, — There never were such preci pices and waterfalls, and so I am going to write you a letter. You see, it takes a two days' drive to get here ; the roads are terribly rough, and when you come sud denly to Inspiration Point and look down into this glorious place, ringing -with cataracts that come tum bUng over the brink, and with a plunge of ten Nia garas burst into clouds of spray, it is like looking into a big green heaven inclosed with the most stupendous cliffs, so that the blessed cannot get out, nor the wicked get in. After you get here it is very won derful. One cannot describe it any rnore than one can paint it. There is nothing like it in the world, and if it were not so many thousand railes away, we would come here from North Andover once every sumraer. But it is a marvel that one can only get once in a life time. You can see a bit of a picture of it in the corner, I am writing this beautiful letter at the right-hand YOSEMITE VALLEY. 347 side of the piazza, where the mosquitoes are very troublesorae. To-day I have ridden an unfortunate horse up a four-mile hiU, and seen another world of waterfaUs and hills. I will describe them to you when I get home. The whole journey has been very funny and pleasant. There are people and places aU along the road, at Chicago, Kansas City, Alamosa, Santa Fe, and Los Angeles, which I never shaU forget. If you could only see the place where we spent last Sun day ! The oranges made the whole landscape glow, and the roses and heliotropes raade it fragrant. To morrow I start for San Francisco. Think of us on Sunday after next. May 30, at Monterey, and probably the first Sunday in June at Portland, Oregon. Have you heard they have chosen me Assistant Bishop of Pennsylvania? . . . Would it not be strange to go there again and end ray rainistry where I began it ? But then it would interfere with our plan of retiring to North Andover in a few years, which is what I am most longing for and looking forward to in lffe. , , , Just now a carriage-load of Raymond people, fel low-travelers of ours, went by. You have no idea how friendly and familiar we are -with them aU. There are men of letters and men of business, and woraen of aU sorts and kinds. Some of them talk good English, some talk bad, and some talk what can hardly be caUed EngUsh at aU. Some of them grumble, sorae of them smile, and some of them look too stupid to do either. The way they make up to each other, and have grown to be like brothers and sisters, is deUghtful. They are more or less scattered now, but they -wiU come to gether again at the Palace Hotel at San Francisco on Saturday night, and then until we go, some of us, to Oregon, the company will see much of one another. 348 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. There is the queerest primitiveness of life in this blessed vaUey, Your landlord talks to you like a brother. He asked me just now if I was the father of a Mr. Brooks who was here ten years ago. . , . Then he appealed to us this morning to be prompt at break fast, because his wife had been working over the stove ever since three o'clock (when the first stage went off), and was ahnost dead. So one finds himseff part of the family, and the cares of the honse are his. Yet, if it were Boston, I would leave it and corae to Marl borough Street and get some lemonade. I wonder what you aU are doing and how you are. , , . Here comes another stage with a tired-looking party of Raymondites, who have been to see the after noon rainbow on the Bridal Veil. Then a wild Mexi can gaUoping by on his mustang, to show off before us who sit on the piazza. It is aU very nice, but by and by it wiU be over and then I hope you wiU be glad to see Your very loving brother, P. Palace Hotel, San Francisco, California, May 27, 1886. My dear Gertie, — What a good tirae we shaU have this suramer ! . . . I will tell you all about the Pacific Ocean, and how fine it is to stand on the rocks and look way off to China. There is a great deal of China here. The other night I went to a Chinese theatre, and the way they howled, and grinned, and cut up on the stage was something won derful. Their play goes on for a raonth, being taken up each evening where they happened to leave off the night before, so you hit it at one point, and it is very hard to make out what the story is. Besides, it is in MONTEREY. 349 Chinese. There is no scenery, and the spectators (those that pay half a doUar) sit right on the stage and go through the dressing-room. The quarter of a doUar people sit in front of the stage, just as our audiences do. It was very confused, picturesque, and funny. Next week I am going up to Oregon, and shaU be somewhere there when you get this letter. I wonder what that country is Uke. It always sounds as ff people went about in furs and talked Ojibway to each other, but I dare say they do not. However, I shall see next week, and then can teU you. We shaU saU through the Golden Gate, and have a lovely voyage up the coast to Portland, in a beautiful steamer. How I wish you would come, too. , , , Hotel del Monte, Monterey, California, June 1, 1886. I have written from such various places the last month, I fear my letters have been rather irregular in reaching you. I have written to somebody at your house every week. I have heard also most irregularly from you, but I have had several letters from yourseff, and your father and mother, for aU of which I am very thankful. They have been very good to get, ... I am longing now to be quietly settled at the old place. Not that this trip is not delightful. Everything has gone perfectly, and much of the best is yet to come. We are spending a few days at this beautiful place, and to-morrow go back to San Francisco, stopping on the way to see the Floods at their famous palatial place at Meiilo Park. I have already had five days at San Francisco, which were very interesting. , , , Thursday I go alone by steamer to Portland, Ore gon, and shall rejoin the party ten days later at Salt 350 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. Lake, The sea, on which we spend forty-eight hours, is a terror to most of the people, but I expect to enjoy it very much, and shaU be glad to get sight of Puget's Sound and Vancouver's Island, The June days there wiU be delightful. Oh, ff you could only be with me. . , , My next great deUght is being -with you aU at Andover. My best love to everybody. Affectionately, P. Victoria, Vancouver's Island, Puget Sound, June 8, 1886. My dear Mary, — I hope this Puget Sound sounds as far from Boston to you as it does to me. It has taken a long time to get here, and is my farthest point from home upon this journey. From this after noon every step is homeward. Already the boat is lying at the wharf and I am writing in the cabin, whUe there is a racket going on, of the men who are bringing freight on board, and in a few minutes we shaU sail for Tacoma and Portland, Lunch is ready on the table, or at least the preparations for lunch, but we must not have any until the steamer gets away. And I am very hungry, for I have been on a long drive over the country for the last three hours, trying to find out what this bit of Her Majesty's dominions may be like. I -wish you and G. had been with me, for the drive was beautiful, and led to a dry dock at a queer little village, where one of the Queen's men-of-war was lying, looking very picturesque. The town itself is a big rambling place, with a pretty park outside, which they caU Beacon Hill, just as if it were in Boston. The streets have queer folks, Indians and Chinamen, strolling about, which makes them interesting. There VICTORIA. 351 was a curious little Chinese girl, -with a long pigtaU, who came with us in this boat in charge of an officer who was taking her back to Victoria. She had been stolen from China, brought out to British America, thence smuggled to our dominions, and there a China man had made her marry him, and he was going to sell her again in San Francisco, when the law carae to her rescue, and she was going back in great glee, leav ing her husband behind her. She was not far from being pretty, and was certainly a very cunning-looking little thing, only fifteen years old, with fiowers in her hand and the most comical and clumsy dress you ever saw. We left her at Victoria, and there seeras now to be nobody of any interest (here the boat stai-ted which accounts for the joggling) except a horrid lit tle boy, who looks out of the window and asks silly questions, for which his raother scolds hira. His ques tions are very siUy, but she need not scold him so, for he e-vidently gets his silliness by direct inheritance from her, I had a beautiful luncheon, rice, salmon, lamb chops, baked beans, and cherry-pie. There is nobody on the boat that I know. Coming up, there was a raan from Janiaica Plain, but he left at Seattle, and I saw hira no raore. The Sound is very beautiful, with its woody shores and sno-wy peaks beyond. Mt. Baker at this end and Mt. Tacoraa at the other are majestic creatures, quite worthy to keep company -with the Alps or Himalayas. I hate to turn back and leave Alaska unseen. That must be gorgeous, and it is so easy to go there from here ! , . . When I get back I wiU go to town Sundays, and the long weeks between, we will spend in the old house and have a lovely time. 352 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. I hope that you are aU well and happy as I am, and as anxious to see me as I am to see you. Ever affectionately, P, Manitou Springs, Colorado, June 17, 1886. My dear Agnes, — You -wrote me such a very nice and interesting letter, which I received the other day when I was among the Mormons, that I must acknowledge it by sending this week's letter to you. It is my only chance, for before next week's letter is written I shaU be rushing across Kansas and Mis souri on the way horae, and should overtake my letter ff I wrote one. So this shaU be the last, , . . I wish I could look in upon you at North An dover this moming, though this place is very pretty, the top of Pike's Peak very high, and the waterfalls are very noisy ; so are the visitors, for it is a real summer place, like a White Mountain hotel. It would be pleasant, instead of breakfasting in a few minutes in the room next to this, to come into your dining-room and eat a great deal better breakfast than we shall get here. WeU, it wiU come in two weeks. I shall get to Boston Saturday morning. Then I must spend Sunday there. I have a meeting to which I shaU go on Monday evening, so I may not get to An dover till Tuesday, and must corae down again for Comraencement on Wednesday and Thursday. That week will be a good deal broken up ; but after that is over, I shaU live at the old house aU the time. This is Bunker Hill day, is n't it? Little those people knew about Pike's Peak and Salt Lake City ! DENVER. 353 You must give my love to everybody, and some day write another letter to your Affectionate uncle, Phillips, Denver, June 20, 1886. Dear Tood, — When I got here last night, I found the hotel man very much excited and running about waving a beautiful letter in the air, and crying aloud, " A letter from Tood ! A letter from Tood ! " He was just going to get out a band of rausic to march around the town and look for the raan to whom the letter belonged, when I stepped up and told him I thought that it was meant for me. He raade me show him ray name in my hat before he would give it to me, and then a great crowd gathered round and lis tened while I read it. It was such a beautiful letter that they aU gave three cheers, and I thought I raust write you an answer at once, although I told A., when I wrote to her the other day, that I should not write to anybody else before ray coming horae. Your letter is very largely about Johnny. My dear Tood, you must not let his going away depress you too much, I know you like him, and that he has been very good to you ; but such separations have to corae, and you will no doubt see sorae other young man some day that you will like just as much. You do not think so now, but you wiU, and he no doubt feels very bad at going, so you must be as cheerful as you can and make it as easy as possible for hira. Remember ! I am on my way home now, and next Saturday will see me back again in Clarendon Street, AU the dear little Chinese, with their pigtaUs, and the dreadful great Mormons, with their himdred wives, and the don- 354 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. keys and the buffaloes and the Red Indians wiU. be far away, and I shaU see you all again, I am impatient for that, for the people out West are not as good as you are. I am going to preach to them this morn ing, to try and make them better, and it is quite time now to go to church. , , . Your affectionate uncle, P. A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 1889. Walker Hotel, Salt Lake City, June 18, 1889. Dear William, — This is the first letter of the great new series. It wiU not amount to much, but wiU let you know that we have come thus far wdthout accident, discomfort, or delay, and are spending Sun day among the Mormons. The day is bright and warm, and we shaU sit with content this afternoon in the great Tabernacle, and see the queer people go through their queer worship. In the cool of the even ing we shall leave for Ogden, and sleep in the hurry ing car which carries us to San Francisco, where we shall arrive at noon on Wednesday. Everything here looks just as it did three years ago. The great Temple has grown, but is many years from its completion, and the Morraons and Gentiles who fill the streets are the same lank and loungy crowd. I do not want to live here, and do not see any danger that I shall have to. , , , We saw the mighty scenery of the Denver and Rio Grande, gazed at Pike's Peak, rushed through the Grand Caiion of the Arkansas, and reached here in time for a drive and a bed last night. . , . The heat has not been troublesome, and Japan does not seem to have such a sultry cUraate, after aU. , , . All begins weU. May everything go weU with you 356 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. until we raeet again. My love to all, and tell them I am in North Andover in heart to-day. Palace Hotel, San Francisco, June 20, 1889. Dear William, — At last the great day has come, and we sail this afternoon in the City of Sidney. We have been to see her, and find she is a fine big vessel of three thousand five himdred tons, with large state rooms on the upper deck, of which we have one apiece. There is only one other passenger besides us. We have not seen him yet, but he is said to be a Rus sian, and is the United States Commissioner for Alaska. We shall know him well before we get to Yokohama. The captain, first officer, and steward seem to be good feUows, and there is every prospect of a pleasant voyage. Everybody says that it is cool and smooth, and I do not think we shall find it too long. We have laid in some books, and there are big decks for walkee-walkee when we feel the need of exercise. We shall hope to sail back by the City of Rio de Janeiro, lea-ving Yokohama on the 21st of August, due in San Francisco about the Sth of September. I hope this wiU bring me back to Massachusetts in time to get two solid quiet weeks at North Andover before the time to go to New York for General Convention. That wiU be good, -wiU it not ? . . . Thanks for your letter and your telegram. How often I shall think of you on the long voyage. My kindest love to aU of you, and raay we be taken care of until we meet in September. Farewell, fareweU! Affectionately, P. STEAMSHIP CITY OF SIDNEY. 357 Steamship City op Sidney, July 8, 1889. My dear Gertie, — You shaU have the first letter from the other side of the world. We have crossed the Pacific and are within a hundred miles of Yoko hama, We shaU arrive at midnight, and to-morrow a steamer leaves there for San Francisco, which will carry homewards this letter. It is our eighteenth day at sea, and we are more than seven thousand miles from North Andover, — think of that ! It has been a good voyage, though the weather has not been bright. It has been cold and rainy tUl yesterday, but there has been no storm and not much rough weather. To-day is loveliness itseff, but we are stiU wearing thick clothes, and the big ulster has done service most of the voyage. There has been alraost no sitting on deck. We have read a great many novels, and looked for the sunUght, which we have hardly seen. Besides Dr. McVickar and rae, there have been two passengers ancl a haff. First, a queer old Russian gentleraan, bound for Karachatka and the islands where the seals are found ; a strange old creature, who has been aU over creation, and seen everything and everybody, and is quite interesting. Besides him, there is a missionary lady and her baby, going back to Japan, but she has kept her stateroom most aU the way, and we have hardly seen her. So we three men, with the ship's officers, have had the great steamer to ourselves. She is not like the Adriatic or Germanic, but she is a fine large ship and very com fortable. Plenty of room, plenty to eat, and every body well aU the time. . . , The Kodak carae out this morning forthe first 358 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. time, and took the ship and the captain. There has been no sun for it before. , , . Think of us seeing Fujiyama to-morrow. Your affectionate uncle, P, Tokyo, July 14, 1889. Arthur Dear, — ShaU I tell you what Japan looks like to one on the sixth day after his arrival ? I could not begin to do it ff I tried, but of all bright, merry, pretty places, it is the prettiest and brightest, and if ever life anywhere is a frolic and a joke, it must be here. I do not think there can be a grim spot in aU the happy islands. It is aU so different from India. If India is a perpetual dream, some times deepening into a nightmare, Japan is a per petual spectacle, now and then blazuig into a mild orgie. I do not think there can be a place anywhere in the world more suitable for pure relaxation. It is just the country for a summer vacation, and the get ting here is delightful. After we left you that morning in New York, five weeks ago next Tuesday, we had a prosperous journey across the continent ; and after two days in San Fran cisco, sailed across the Pacific, a long, wet, placid voyage of eighteen days, and landed at Yokohama with minds well emptied, rested, and ready for what ever might be poured in. The people looked so glad to see us. The jinrikisha men did not quarrel -with our bulk ; the foreign residents were kind and hospi table. In Yokohama I dined with a classmate of yours, John Lindsley by name, who is the agent of the Canadian Pacific, and has a beautiful house and pretty -wife. Yesterday we came on hither, where to-day, in addition to thousands of heathen, I have TOKYO. 359 seen Bishop WiUiams and raany of the missionary people and arrangements of our church. It aU looks very weU, and the best of the foreigners teU good stories about missionary life and influence. So Japan is a true success as the fleld for a suramer journey. The weather so far is deUghtful, and the great Buddha at Kamakura is wonderful indeed. I hope your summer is going delightfully, I am sure it is. My best love to Lizzie. , , , Affectionately, P. Tokyo, July 14, 1889. Dear William, — This Is the sixth day in Japan, and aU goes wonderfully well. In a few days the steamer starts for San Francisco, and a word of greet ing shall go in her to tell you that we landed safely from the City of Sidney last Tuesday morning, and since then have lived in Yokohama until yesterday. We came here, and are now in the very heart of Jap anese history and life. It is very fascinating. The brightest, merriest, kindest, and most graceful people, who seem as glad to see you as if they had been wait ing for you aU these years, sraile upon you in the streets, and make you feel as if their houses were yours the moment you cross the threshold. Thej' drag you round in their absurd jinrikishas as if it were a jolly joke, and are sitting now by the score along the road outside the window in all degrees of undress and aU the colors of the rainbow, chattering away, making- pretty gestures, as if good manners and ci-vility were the only ends of life. I never saw anything like it, and the fascination grows with every new street pic ture that one sees. The weather is delightful : mornings and evenings 360 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. are very cool and pleasant ; the noonday is hot, but not too hot to go about ; and every now and then tre mendous downfalls of rain. Wednesday it rained as I hardly ever saw it rain before, and you would have laughed to see our experiences on Thursday, when we went into the country to see the great bronze Buddha, sixty feet high, who has sat for six hundred years in a great grove of pine-trees twenty miles from Yokohama, The railroad had been swept away by the rain, and we had to take to jinrikishas. The road was overflowed, and we had to get into boats and be ferried over the submerged rice-fields. FinaUy, I found myself on a coolie's back, being carried over a little torrent, which the jinrikisha could not cross. The coolie never will forget it any raore than I sTiall ; but we saw the Dai- batzu, which is the gigantic Buddha's name. And I snapped the Kodak into his very face. We have had most hospitable welcome from Ameri can and English people ; almost every night in Yoko hama we dined out, and here we have been given rooms at the club, which is a Government affair and most comfortable. To-morrow night we are to dine with the English Bishop of Japan, and there is more of courtesy and kindness than we can accept. We shall have warmer weather, for everybody says the summer has not fairly begun. It wiU not be excessive. Indeed, the whole climate is not unlike the summer climate of New York, To-day we have been looking a little at our foreign missionary work, and find it a very real thing, fuU of interest and promise. Five weeks ago to-night I spent the evening in Marl borough Street, If you meet Dr. George EUis, as we did that evening on Commonwealth Avenue, teU him NIKKO. 361 ,Iapan is a great success ; and with aU love to M, and the children, be sure that I am Affectionately, P, Nikko, July 21, 1889. My dear Mary, — You remember the Japanese have a proverb which declares that " he who has not seen Nikko has no right to say Kekko." Kekko means beautiful. You raay have seen Keswick, Heidelberg, Venice, Boston, North Andover, and Hingham, but if you have not seen Nikko, the Jap does not believe you know what beauty is. I do not think he is quite right, but Nikko is certainly very beautifid. We came up here from Tokyo on Friday, with three hours of railroad, to Utsunomiya, and then six hours of jolting over the worst of roads, all washed with recent rains, with long stops to rest the wretched horses at queer tea houses by the way. A raost beautiful ave nue of stately trees extends along the whole route, and we carae into the sacred valley far up araong the hUls, Here are the raost splendid temples in Japan. They are the great shrines of the heroes of the proud days of Japanese history. Their solemn bells are always sounding, and the richness of their decoration, the raystery of their vast courtyards, and the strange fig ures of their priests are most impressive. In Tokyo there is much of new Japan. We saw the university, the missionary operations, and the electric lights. Here it is all mediaeval, and the works of man are as venerable as the hills. It is intensely interesting. The jinrikisha men finaUy rebeUed at Utsunomiya, and would not bring us over the washed and gulUed road. One could not blame thera, but it was incon venient, for we had to take the roughest of carriages, 362 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. and the horses would not have been allowed to be harnessed by any society for the prevention of cruelty to beasts. Our traveling for these ten days in Japan has been a beautiful frolic. We have a capital guide and ser vant, a merry little fellow named Hakodate, who talks queer English, does everything that one mortal man can do for two others under his charge, and makes us very comfortable. He is the best guide, I suppose, in the country, has traveled with all sorts of distinguished people, and is perpetually proud of the size of the party at present in his care. If you corae across a little French book called " Notes d'un Globe-Trotter," by a Mr. Daudiffret, you will find much about Hakodate under the name of Tatzu. Tatzu is his real name, but for some unknown reason he goes under the name of the town in the north of Japan from which he comes. That sarae French book is a very amusing account of much of what we are seeing every day in this delight ful land. , . . This Sunday morning is Sunday evening with you. I am just going to preach at a service in one of the houses here. You are sitting on the piazza. I wish I coidd spend the evening -with you, and yet these hills are lovely, and so far the climate has been perfect. There has been no excessive heat. Now and then a bit of an earthquake, they say, but they are so little that there is no excitement. It seeras as if there were aU pleasant things, until we meet in mid-September. TiU then may we all be safe and well. My love to all. Affectionately, P, NIKKO. 363 NniKo, Japan, July 22, 1889. Dear Johnnie, — I wonder if it rains this morning at Marion as it rains at Nikko, The beUs of the Bud dhist temples sound through the thick mist, and the mountains hide themselves under the clouds, and we can see nothing of what everybody says is the most beautfful place in Japan. Before it clears I will talkee- talkee a little with you. After I left you, Hattie, Dodo, and baby at Springfield, I reached New York safely, and the next morning the great trip reaUy began. We went on, and on, and at last, on the morning of the Sth of July, set foot on the land of the Rising Sun at Yokohama. The little Japs were very glad to see us. They brought their little jinrikishas down to the wharf, and puUed us through their little streets, past their little houses, to the big hotel. Ever since that they have been as good, civil, and delightful as possible. They are the merriest folk alive. Everybody smiles all the time. They smile when you speak to them and when you do not, when you stop and when you pass by, when they understand you and when they do not. They meet you with a smile at the steps of their little toy tea houses, and though they expect you to take off your shoes and enter in your stocking feet, that you may not hurt their pretty mats, and you have to sit upon the floor in most uncomfortable attitudes, stiU they are so glad to see you, and hand you the chop sticks, with which you are to eat your rice, in such a winning way, that you would not offend one of their inconvenient little prejudices for aU the world. The missionaries are good people and are doing ex ceUent work. We spent one Sunday in Tokyo, and saw Bishop Williams and the mission buildings and one of the girls' schools. Most of the schools are in vaca- 364 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. tion for the summer, and many of the missionaries are here in this moimtain place of cool resort. We held service yesterday in the house of one of them, which belongs to a Buddhist priest, and has the temple itself in the side yard. The priest looked at us as we went to church, but did not come into our meeting. If he had, he might have heard me preach in the morn ing and McVickar in the afternoon. Here, also, is your classmate Sturgis Bigelow, who with Mr. Fenol- losa of '74, and Mrs. FenoUosa, has been li-ving in Japan for years. They know the whole thing thor oughly, and since I began this beautiful letter (about the middle of the third page) we went -with them and spent three hours in the Shinto temple of the great lyeasu which is the most beautiful thing you ever saw. We are going to dine with them to-night. About the time you get this, the 21st of August, we shaU sail from Yokohama for San Francisco in the City of Rio de Janeiro, and about the middle of September I shall be in North Andover. Come and see me there, and tell me about your sumraer, and I wiU teU you aU about mine, which is as jolly and queer as anything. My love to the babies and Hattie, Ever affectionately, P, Myanoshita, Japan, July 28, 1889. Dear William, — I wiU put into this letter a photograph of this pretty place, where we are spend ing- a delightful Sunday. It is far up among the hiUs, and is S-wiss-looking in its general mountain as pect, Thursday we left Nikko, after flve days among its marvels, only raade less perfect than they might have been by rather too much rain. But they were full of interest. Then we came back over a horrible MYANOSHITA. 365 road to Utsonomiya and by rail to Yokohama. Friday we took rail to Odza, then carriage and jinrikisha to this place. Yesterday we went to Hakoni lake and saw most flnely Fujiyama, the great mountain of Japan. The whole way was full of interest, through -vU lages, past temples, and by one mighty Buddha carved out of solid rock, sitting by the roadside. To-morrow we go to Nagaia, then to Kioto, Nara, Osaka, Kobe, and by the Inland Sea to Nagasaki, whence we return to Yokohama to take the City of Rio home the 21st of August. She brought to us this week your letters of the 2d of July, , . . AU this listof jjlaces can give you no idea of the perpetual interest of this strange land. The Kodak keeps snapping aU the time, and I hope is getting sorae pictures which wiU be interesting. Every person in the street, every group upon the country road, every shop, and house, and tea house, and temple is as queer or beautiful as possible, and the people are delighted when you teU them to stand out in the sunshine to have their portraits taken. Hakodate proves a jewel of a guide, and while he looks out ludicrously for his own comfort, is very careful also for ours, and orders the good native Japanese about as if he were a prince. We have not suffered from the heat more than we should have done on an ordinary White Mountain journey, and though the hottest part is yet to come, I have no fear that it will be excessive. The rains have bothered us a little, but on the other hand have kept the country very fresh and green, and the luxuriance is something won derful. Rice fields are sheets of emerald and the bamboo groves are like fairy temples. The lotus is breaking into flower, and the low swamps are gor- 366 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. geous with its great leaves and splendid flowers. Just now the talk is of the new Constitution of Japan, which goes into operation next winter, and wUl make the country as modern in its government as the United States itself. What wUl become of the Buddhist temples and the picturesque dresses, nobody can teU. Already young Japan affects skepticism and trousers, but the missionaries wiU have to set all that right. They are doing good work and have the respect of all true raen here. So rauch for Japan, though one might write about it forever. My thoughts run aU the time to North Andover. You are about going to bed as we sit here writing and waiting for tiffin, which is served about one o'clock. I hope there is as cool a breeze blowing across the piazza as that which blows through this open haU, but I am sure that no such Uttle Japanese waiting-maid, in kimono and obi, sits squatting on her bare heels in the corner. North Andover is best in the long run. My loveliest love to aU. Affectionately, P, Kobe, Japan, August 7, 1889. Dear William, — We are here at Kobe after a most delightful journey from Myanoshita, from which place I wrote you last. The prettiest thing about it was the visit to Nara, the old, old capital of Japan, and the seat of its most venerable worship. We left Kioto after dinner and traveled at night to avoid the heat, which was pretty terrible that day. We had three jinrikishas, one for each of us, and one for Ha kodate, also one which went ahead with the luggage. Each of our jinrikishas had three men, one in the shafts and two puUing ahead. We left at seven KOBE. 367 o'clock, and reached Nara at one in the raorning, thirty-three mUes in six hours. The cheerful little men went on a steady trot most aU the way, and seemed as merry as crickets when we arrived. Three times we stopped at teahouses and stuffed them fuU of rice, and then trotted off again into the night. It was bright moonlight the first haff of the way, and the stars were splendid when the moon went down. AVe ambled along through rice fields and tea plantations, with villages strung along the road and people coming out to look at us all night. At Nara, the hospitable people of the Japanese hotel were looking for us, and soon after our arrival we were sound asleep. Here we spent two days, in a perfect -wilderness of splendid scenery, historical association, teraple architecture, and curious Ufe. There are tame sacred deer in the groves, and tame sacred fishes in the lakes. The trees are hundreds of years old, and the temples are older. And the beauty of the landscape is a perpetual delight. Here we spent Sunday. We went to a little raissionary chapel of our chureh and heard our ser-vice in Japanese, and an exceUent sermon in the same language by a native layman. The white missionary in charge was off on his summer vacation, like the Rector of Trinity Church, Boston. After service, we sat in a tea house over looking the lake, where it was cool. In the afternoon we strayed in the great temple groves and saw the priests at their curious worship ; aU night the druras were beating and picturesque heathenisra going on in its remarkable way. Next morning early we left for Osaka, stopping to visit a most reraarkable Buddhist monastery on the way. After one brilliant day at 368 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. Osaka, we came here, and to-morrow leave by steamer for Nagasaki, which will take us through the beautiful inland sea, one of the chief glories of Japan. That wiU be the extreme limit of our traveling. From Nagasaki we come back to Kobe ; then by sea to Yokohama, and after a few excursions from that familiar place, we shaU be ready for the City of Rio two weeks from to-day. After that you know what will become of me until I present myseff at the side door in North Andover. The Kodak is fuU, I cannot find anybody wise enough to change the old plates for the new, I cannot make the back come out to do it for myself, so I shaU bring it home as it is ; perhaps some of the hundred snaps which I have made may have caught something interesting, which the man in Bromfield Street can bring out. It is hot, beautiful weather, no hotter, I should say, than we often have in Boston, and only slightly, for the most part, letting up at night. We are quite weU, and the weather does not hinder our doing aU we wish to do ; the country is in beautiful condition, and the haff-naked folks are brown as berries. And you are aU weU, I most devoutly hope. Letters wiU come to day, but they -wiU not bring advices very late. My love of loves to all of you. Affectionately, P, KiOGO Hotel, Kobe, August 9, 1889. Dear Tood, — The mail came this raorning, and brought me beautfful letters from your father, mo ther, and you. Before we start for Nagasaki, in the beautiful steamer Tokyo-Mam, there Is just tirae to write a beautiful line to you, and send these beautiful pictures which have just corae in frora a beautfful KOBE. 369 photographer's shop at the comer of the street. Mr. McVickar sends his love to you with this, and so does Hakodate, who sits in his native fashion on the floor at Dr, McVIckar's feet. He is a good, wise man,' and when you come to Japan you must have him for your guide, I am glad you are ha-ving such a good time at North Andover. Look out for me there soon after you get this. My loveliest love to aU. Your loving uncle, P. Steamship Wakamoma-Maru, August 13, 1889. Dear Gertie, — The Parthia sails this week for Vancouver, so there seems to be one more chance to send a letter from Japan before we leave, and it shall go to you. We are sailing along the southem coast, between Kobe and Yokohama, with the pretty, hilly shore in clear sight. We should see Fujiyama itseff if it were not quite so hazy. This afternoon we shaU be in Yokohama, then we shall probably go off into the country to Karaakara and Enoshiraa, and a few other pretty places, for the one short week that remains before the " Rio " comes along to carry us away from this delightful land. Since I wrote the other day, we have been from Kobe to Nagasaki and back, sailing twice tlu-ough the Inland Sea. It was very lovely, almost as pretty as Lake George itseff. The days were warm and breezy, the nights had glorious moonlight, and I only wished you were all here to see the pretty sights. Queer junks were lounging on the water about us, and fimny little viUages were on the shore, and curious Japanese people went pattering about the steamer's 370 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. deck. None of them were as nice or well dressed as the little girl I send you, seated between her cherry- trees, but they were her poorer sisters, and she will give you some idea of what looking folk they are, I am quite sure I have seen her a dozen times, as I have gone in and out of their ridiculous little houses. And so this fun is almost over ! In three weeks we shaU be in San Francisco. . , , It wiU be hard to reaUze that this life, which we have been seeing so constantly for these five weeks, wiU be stiU going on. The priests praying In the temples, the girls chatter ing over their tea, the jinrikishas running round the streets, the jugglers performing in their booths, the missionaries preaching in their churches, the mer chants squatting In their shops, the women toddling with their babies, the boys swimming in the streams, and everybody as merry and good-natured as in a world of doUs, It wUl be quite as good to remember as it has been to see. When you get this, begin to look out for our arrival at the Golden Gate, and have the corn barn ready for a pleasant little smoke soon after. My best of love to everybody. How pretty the piazza at North Andover must look this pleasant moming! Good-by, dear Gertie, Your affectionate uncle, P. Steamship City op Kio db Janeiro, August 28, 1889. Dear Arthur, — J apan Is far behind us. We are almost halfway across the Pacific Oeean. Mc Vickar Is on deck talking to some EngUsh people, and I remembered the letter which I was very glad to get from you just before I left Yokohama last week. I want to answer It, first to thank you for it. STEAMSHIP CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO. 371 and then to say how sorry I am that I must not aUow myseff to think of accepting your kind invitation to visit MInnequa on my way across the continent. It would be a very pleasant thing to do, but I shaU not mueh more than get home to Boston for Sunday, the 22d of September, and I have promised myseff to preach there on that day. Then I shaU have one quiet week at North Andover to get my wits and clothes In order before I start, on the 2d of October, for the great campaign of General Convention. It wIU not do to try and get in anything besides, and the first that I shall see of you and Lizzie wUl be when I appear at breakfast on the morning of October 3, and we go together to the great opening service at St. George's. It was very good and thoughtful of you to propose the visit, but it must not be. This Is a good, slow, steady steamer, with a very multifarious lot of folk on board, and all is going very pleasantly. We shaU have two Thursdays this week, picking up the lost day which we dropped here In the mid-Pacific two months ago. But, in spite of that, we shaU not be in San Francisco until Friday of next week. Then we are going up to Vancouver and horae by the Canadian Pacific via Winnipeg, St. Paid, and Chicago. It has been a great success, — the worst thing of the sumraer being the stearaboat ink with which I am trying to write this letter. I hope that all goes weU with you, and that Minnequa is gayety itseff. WeU, well, another winter's work draws very near! My kindest love to Lizzie, and counting on much talk In October, I am. Affectionately, P, 372 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. Steamship City op Rio db Janeiro, Pacific Ocean, September 6, 1889. Dear William, — We shaU be at 'Frisco to night, then I wIU send this last letter of the sum mer, which wiU teU you we are safely across this mighty pond, and that I shaU be with you before two weeks more are passed. We have had a slow voyage, because the ship is not a fast one, needs cleaning, and has not been pressed. We were also one day late in leaving Yokohama, o'wing to the severe storms raging In the Chinese Sea, which were expected to delay the steamer In arri-ving at Japan. The whole voyage has been calm and peaceful. For days and days the ocean was almost -without a wave, and at her worst the ship has not roUed enough to hurt the weak est traveler. We have about twenty first-class pas sengers, a curious lot, Araericans, English, Scotch, French, Gerraan, Russians, Japanese, and a whole lot of queer Chinese in the steerage, who cannot go ashore in San Francisco, but wIU be passed on to Mexico and other places which do not yet refuse to take in the poor Celestials. The voyage has not been duU or tedious, but it wUl be rather good to go on shore early to-morrow morning and telegraph to you that I am safely here. We shaU spend Sunday in San Francisco, and in the evening start by way of Sacramento for Portland and Puget Sound. We shaU probably arrive in Boston Thursday, the 19th, and then for a quiet, delightful week at North Ando ver before the General Convention at New York. I hope to hear to-night that all Is well with you. If I hear that, the summer will be perfect. It Is five weeks since your last dates, and one cannot help feel- STEAMSHIP CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO. 373 ing a bit anxious. I believe all wIU be weU, You shall hear from me, by and by, just when I wiU arrive. Until then, be sure that I am anxious to get home, and with the best of love to all, count me Affectionately your dear brother, P, SUMMER OF 1890. Lucerne, August 25, 1890, Dear Johnnie, — You were raighty good to write me such a fine . long letter. Although you wiU not get this answer much before I come myseff, I cannot help thanking you and sending you aU an affectionate greeting this rainy morning. It Is our first real rainy day. The sumraer has been free frora blighting heat and blasting tornado, such as has devastated things at home. To think of South Lawrence getting aU blown to pieces ! I read about It In the " Journal de Geneve," and trembled for the corn barn. What a pity that I have lost your visits to the old house. It must have been delightful both for you and for Andover, , , , This has been the quietest of little journeys, but very pleasant indeed. The streets of London looked just as we left them ten years ago, and the great white hUls were waiting for us In Chamounix and In terlaken, Of course the people whom we wanted most to see were gone from London, for the season was over before we arrived, but I had a delightful little visit with Tennyson in his home at Aldworth. He has grown old, but Is bright and clear-headed, and may give us some more verses yet. Just after I left Eng land, Newman died, and the pulpit and press have been fuU of laudation and discussion of him ever since. He was a remarkable man, by no means of the first class, for he never got at final principles nor showed a truly brave mind ; but there was great LUCERNE. 375 beauty in his character, and his Intellect was very subtle. , , . What a wild scene of frivolous excitement Marion seems to have been ! I do not wonder that you, H. and the children had to take to the water, to escape the land. Be sure and aU keep weU and safe tiU we come back, and then for another year of the old famUiar, pleasant work. My kindest love to aU of you. Affectionately, P, LAST JOURNEY ABROAD, 1892, H. M. S. Majestic, June 27, 1892. Dear Mary, — I miss my old companions very much indeed. It would be very delightful if you and G. were on deck to-day, as I am sure you would be if you were on board. The day Is delightful, and the big ship is going splendidly. She is a magnificent great thing, and could put our dear little Cephalonia into her waistcoat pocket. Her equipment is sumptu ous and her speed Is something tremendous, but I do not know that I like her as weU as the old-fashioned little boats which seem more homeUke, and where one knows how to find his way about. , , . Our captain is PurceU, who commanded the Adriatic when G., you, and I once sailed on her. He has given me the use of his deck-room during the day, so I have a lovely, quiet time . , , , Mr. Howard Potter and his famUy, and Dr. and Mrs. Watson of Boston, with whom I sit at an extra table in the haU which opens on the deck, are about aU of whom I see anything. Yesterday we had service, and I preached In the great saloon in the morning, and in the evening I held a service for the second-class passengers, of whom there Is a multitude. There is no gong for meals, but two rosy little sailor boys march through the ship with bugles playing a tune to call us, which is very pretty Indeed. Wednesday morning we shaU get to LONDON. 377 Queensto-wn, and that night I hope to dine and sleep at the Adelphi, where I wiU eat some mushrooms in your honor. Then I go to London, where I shaU be on Thursday night, and ever so many nights after wards, I trust. It looks very nice, but indeed I should not have been disappointed ff the Majestic could not have taken me, and I had been left In North Andover for the summer, as I expected when I saw you last. May it be a beautfful summer to you aU. . . . Yours affectionately and majesticaUy, P, Westmlnsteb Palace Hotel, London, July 4, 1892. Dear Gertie, — I have the same old rooms, the big parlor and bedroom on the second floor ; the boot black boy is across the way, the srailing youth is on the sidewalk, the big porter Is In the haU, and everything Is just the way It used to be, only I miss you very much indeed, and wish you would take the next steamer and come out. You must not take the City of Chicago, because she was wrecked, and It would not have been nice to claraber up the side of that steep rock on a rope ladder. You had better take the Cephalonia ; or. If you cannot get her, the Majestic, which is a splendid great boat, with a great deal of room and aU the luxuries of which you can conceive, and she comes over in no time. . . . AU your friends are well and asking after you. I dined at Archdeacon Farrar's Saturday night. Lady Frances BaiUie was there, and so were the Bishop of Rochester and his wife ; he used to be Dean of AA^ind- sor, you remeraber, when we went there once. Yes terday I preached in the morning at St. Margaret's, and in the evening at the Abbey, and there were a 378 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. great many people in both churches. And now to-day, for I have been out since I began this letter this morning, I have been running aU over town, and last of aU have been to pay my Fourth of July respects to Mr. Lincoln, the American minister. Do you re member when we went to see Mr. LoweU one Fourth of July, and you sat aU the time in the carriage ? There is a splendid new Velasquez at the National GaUery. The National GaUery has bought it since we were last here, and the people for the first time have a chance of seeing it. . . , I am going now to dine at Dr. SewaU's, to-morrow at the Abbey, Wednesday at Mrs. Synge's, Thursday at the Dean's, and so on every day. How is Tood ? Everybody is expecting her, and wondering why she did not come over this year. They can hardly wait to see her. Last Saturday there was a garden party at Lambeth Palace, and everybody looked happy, and sorae of them very pretty. Next week I am going to see the Tennysons, and the week after I go to see our friend the Bishop of Rochester, who is now the Bishopof Winchester, and lives at Farnham Castle, , , . I am coining home on the Pavonia with Uncle John and Aunt Hattie on the 8th of September. Now I cannot write any more, but send my love to every body, and am Your affectionate uncle, P, Westminster Palace Hotel, London, July 11, 1892. Dear William, — I did not get any time to write yesterday, because there was preaching to do all day. In the raorning, I preached at a great big church in Chelsea, and went home to dinner with the minister. LONDON. 379 Then I came back here and went to sleep in the after noon, and had a beautiful time. In the evening, I preached at St. Peter's, Eaton Square, a large and fashionable church ; went home to supper with the min ister, and found a nuraber of people, quite a Sunday evening supper party. ... I ara only going to preach once more, next Sunday morning, for Haweis, to whom I have owed a sermon ever since he preached so re markably in Trinity. When that is over, I shall do up the sermons and the Episcopal robes, and not open them again until I get to North Andover and preach for Mr. Walker. This morning, I had a long call from Father Hall, who looks weU and hearty, and seems to be enjoying things over here, and to have no thought of coming back to Boston or America. It was pleasant to see him again. John and Hattie are somewhere in England. I heard from John when they arrived at Liverpool, and he expects to bring up here next Saturday night. They seem to have had a very comfortable and pros perous voyage. Arthur Is now upon the ocean, and wiU be here, I suppose, some time near the end of the week. McVickar is somewhere on this side, but has not yet sho-wn himseff. I think I shaU go to the Continent on the 25th, two weeks from to-day. I do not know where I shall go, or what I shall do. I would like to go over the Stelvio again with you, and if you will come out we wiU do It. If you do not corae, I shaU go alone. probably as far as Switzerland, perhaps to Venice. . . . Yours affectionately, P. 380 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. London, July 17, 1892. Dear William, — ... I have just come back from preaching for Mr. Haweis at his church In Marylebone, and have proraised to take luncheon here with Arthur at haff past one, and then go and hear Farrar preach at the Abbey at three. Before he coraes I will begin my Sunday note to you. I am not going to preach any more. Next Sunday I shaU be here with Jolmnie, and we will go and hear some of the great men whom this big city can supply, , , . Yesterday I spent at Lord Tennyson's, going down with Farrar in the morning and getting back to dinner. The old man was in beautiful condition, gentle, gracious, and talkative until he went for his snooze, as he caUed it, after luncheon. He read us some of his poetry, and talked about it in the most interesting way. Lady Tennyson is a beautfful In vaUd, and the young people, Hallam, his wffe, and children, are delightful. We have been to the afternoon service at the Abbey, and had a pleasant anthem and a fine sermon from Archdeacon Farrar. The whole thing goes on, you see, very much after the old fashion, and Is very good. After another week I shaU be glad to be away, and then I shaU think of you, In Paris and among the hlUs. , , , Westminster Palace Hotel, London, July 24, 1892. Dear Tood, — , , . Yesterday we were at the National Gallery and saw the BotticelUs, Giorgiones, Tintorettos, Titians, and others. The afternoon be fore, we took a fine drive in the Park and had a lovely time. This afternoon we have all been to KULM. 381 Westminster Abbey and heard Archdeacon Farrar preach a fine sermon. Right in the raiddle of it a girl went wild and shrieked at the top of her voice, and they had to cany her out neck and heels. Don't ever do that, wiU you ? . . . I ara going to leave Tuesday raorning for the Conti nent. I do not know where I shall go, but I think Dr. McVickar will go with me, and we sliaU find sorae snow raountains somewhere, I am very sorry about the electric raUway at North Andover, and the trees. Perhaps we cannot go there any more after this year. Where do you think we had better go ? I went the other day to the Bishop of Winchester's. He lives at Farnham Castle, an awfidly old affair, with keep, drawbridge, and dungeons underground, and a park of three hundred acres and deer in it. D. and B. have grown up to be young ladies, and D. sits at the head of her father's table. I am glad you are reading so many nice books. You wiU know all about things when you come abroad. How arc all your friends? Dear me! it sounds very far away, but I shall corae horae by and by, aud we wiU get a few days in the old house together before we break up and call the summer done, . . , Good-by, my love to aU, and I am Your dear uncle, P. St. Moritz, Engadine, Hotel Kulji, August 7, 1892. My dear Mary, — ... It has been a very good week. Last Sunday we spent at TrouviUe. That nieans Dr. McVickar and I, Monday we went to Paris and put up at the Grand Hotel. It looked very bright and faraiUar, just as it did when G., you, and 382 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. I were there. You and G. were not there this time, for which I was very sorry. Tuesday evening we took the Orient Express for Munich, the train which you know we thought of tak ing, but did not, from Strasburg to Paris. It was very swift and comfortable, and brought us to Munich at noon on Wednesday. We stayed at the Baierischer Hof. . . . Thursday morning we took a train to Inns bruck, but did not go by the Achensee. As we passed Jenbach, we saw they had a railway from Jenbach to the Achensee, with queer, tilted-up cars, Uke those that go up the Pilatus. Friday inorning we took the rail to Landeck, and then a carriage for a two days' drive up the valley of the Inn, which brought us here. . . . We slept at the Tyroler Hof, where A. and L. and G. and you and I were five years ago. . . , This is a glorious place, and the weather Is superb. We sliaU stay here for several days, and then I do not know where we shaU go. ... I -wish you were all here this afternoon, for the snow mountains are very fine. , . . Lucerne, August 14, 1892. Dear Gertie, — I passed the Restaurant TItlis this raorning, and thought of you and the night we spent there before they moved us to the pretty Entre sol in the Schweitzer Hof. The Schweitzer Hof now is full, and we are lodged. Dr. McVickar and I, in the top story of the Lucerner Hof. Last night there were the band and the fireworks In front of the Schweitzer Hof, the old way. ... We carae here yesterday over the St. Gotthard from Lugano, on the lake of Lugano. There we had spent a day, climbing up Monte Generosa by a queer INTERLAKEN. 383 old railway, like that which climbs up the Mount PUa tus, which I can see from my window now, if I almost break my neck by twisting round the corner for a view. We came to Lugano from Cadenabbia on the lake of Como, and to Cadenabbia we had come by the Maloja Pass and the beautiful lake from St. Moritz, whence I wrote last Sunday ; that Is thus far our journey. . . , Oh, I wish you were here, and that we were to go over the Brunig to-morrow to Interlaken, M. and you, and I. But you can see how It aU looks. The lake, the boats, the flags, the people, and the hiUs around ff. I send my best love to you all, and by and by wiU see you at North Andover. Yours affectionately and affectionately, P. Hotel Victoria, Interlaken, August 21, 1892. Dear William, — There is no letter this week, from any of you, for which I am very sorry. I hope you have not grown tired of me, and given me up altogether. Do you remember Grindenwald and the Bear Hotel, on whose balcony we sat one long afternoon, wait ing for the rain to stop, so that we could ascend the Wengern Alp? M. and G. and I went to the same Bear Hotel two years ago, and sat in its hospitable courtyard, drank coffee, and had om- photographs taken by a low-spirited practitioner a Uttle way beyond. I went over there yesterday to see the ruins. It was burnt do-wn on Thursday, the Bear Hotel, the photo grapher's shop, and pretty nearly the whole "vlUage, a hundred houses in aU destroyed, and ever so many 384 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 'wretched peasants thrown out into the cold world. It is quite awful. You wiU never see the Bear Hotel again. They have a railway from Grindelwald to the AV.engern Alp, and down again to Lauterbrunnen, so there will be no more pleasant horseback rides across the meadows and down the steep descent upon the other side. It has been a lazy week. I tarried in Lucerne until Thursday. The days were hot and lovely. McVickar left me on Tuesday and went to Paris, where he must have been hot and wretched for the last few days, Thursday I took train and came over the Brunig here. Now I am expecting, to-raorrow, the 22d, John and Hattie. They are at Lucerne to-day, ha-ving reached there last Friday, , , , Their time in S-witzerland will not be very long, but I think they have enjoyed every thing pretty weU, You cannot go very -wrong in Europe, When they have joined me, I think we shaU go to Thun, Berne, Martigny, Tete Noire, Chamounix, Geneva, and so to Paris, where we shaU get a few days before it is time to go to London, Liverpool, and the Pavonia. These are sad tidings of the riots and flghtings in Buffalo and Tennessee. It is good that violence should be put down by railitary force, but that does not solve the problem of how the great men are to Uve with the little men, and what is the function of governraent as regards them both. Only time and events and the slow progress of raankind will settle that. Meanwhile, I send you all ray dearest love and am Ever and always yours affectionately, P, CHAMOUNIX. 385 Hotel d'Angleterre, Chamounix, August 28, 1892. Dear William, Mary, Gertrude, Agnes, and Tood, — This is the last letter I shaU write to any of you on this journey, because next Sunday it wiU be within four days of the sailing of the Pavonia, and it will not be worth while to write. This fun is alraost over. John and Hattie joined me last Monday at In terlaken. . , . Tuesday we went to Lauterbrunnen and the Trumnielbach, and had a fine, bright, sunshiny day. Wednesday we loafed about Interlaken all the morn ing, and took the boat and train in the afternoon for Berne by Thun. It was not clear when we reached Berne, so we did not see the great view of the Alps, but saw the bears in their pit. I showed the old woman on the terrace the bear which I bought of her for fifty eentiiiies two years ago and have ("uiied in ray pocket ever since, which ])leased her siraple soul very ranch indeed, and pleased mine more. She thought it very pretty of me to have taken sueh fond care of it, and she offeied to make it browm and young again for nothing. But I did not want her to do that, and told her I would bring it back again in two years more to see her. We went bat-k to the Berner Hof for dinner, and In the evening to a Beer Garden and heard music. Thursday it i-ained hard, but we came to jMaitigny by rail, and after we reached there in the afternoon it was pleasant enough for us to take a drive and see the Gorge de Trient. Friday we drove over the Tete Noire. It was a beautiful daj% and the views were prettiest and best. Saturday the raountains were as clear as clear could be, so we are lucky. 386 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. An Oxford professor tried to go up Mont Blanc Thursday in the storm, and died of exhaustion. Yes terday, through the telescope in the hotel yard, we could see them bringing his dead body do-wn over the snow, and I suppose it arrived here late last night. The only high ascent made by our party, and that was entirely successful, was John's going with a mule and a guide to the Montanvert, crossing the Mer de Glace, and coming down by the Mauvais Pas. The journey was accomplished without any accident, and the climber reached the hotel about three o'clock In the afternoon, not much fatlg-ued. To-raorrow we go to Geneva (Hotel de la Paix), and the next day shall take the long, tiresome ride to Paris ; after that you know about what wUl happen to us, until you find us in your arms again, . , I am very weU indeed, thank you, and shaU be glad to see you all again. Yours most affectionately, P,