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^ 


AN 


American  Girl  Abroad. 


BY 


ADELINE    TRAFTON, 


ILLUSTRATED 
BY  MISS  L.  B.  HUMPHREY. 


BOSTON : 
LEE  AND   SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS. 

New  York  : 
lee,  shepard  and  dillingham. 

1872. 


Entered,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1878, 

By  lee  and  SHEPAED, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washingtoa. 


Electrotyped  at  the  Boston  Stereotjrpe  Foundry, 
Na  19  Spring  Lane. 


I  DEDICATE 

fis  8lecori>  of  pleasant  gags 

TO  MY  FATHER, 

REV.  MARK  TRAFTON. 


IIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS, 


PAGK 
I. 

"  At  night  we  descended  into  the  depths  of  the  steamer  to  wor- 
ship with  the  steerage  passengers,"    Frontispiece. 

n. 

"  A  dozen  umbrellas  were  tipped  up ;  the  rain  fell  fast  upon  a 
dozen  upturned,  expectant  faces." 57 

m. 

"  At  the  word  of  command  they  struclc  the  most  extraordinary 
attitudes." 157 

IV. 

"  Frowsy,  sleepy,  cross,  and  caring  nothing  whatever  for  the 
sun,  moon,  or  stars,  we  stood  like  a  company  of  Bedlamites, 
ankle  deep  in  the  wet  grass  upon  the  summit."     .       .       .176 

V. 

"  Evidently  the  little  old  woman  is  going  a  journey.**         .       .  196 

VI. 

"Together  we  stared  at  him  with  rigid  and  severe  counte- 
nances."   240 


'  -*», 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    I. 

ABOABD  THE  STEAMEB. 

We  two  alone.— "Good  by."— "Are  yon  the  captain  of  this 
ship  ? "  —  Wretchedness.  —  The  jolly  Englishman  and  the 
Yankee. — A  sail ! — The  Cattle-man.  —  The  Jersey-man  whose 
bark  was  on  the  sea.  —  Church  services  under  difficulties.  — 
The  sweet  young  English  face.  —  Down  into  the  depths  to 
worship.  —  "  Beware !  I  stand  by  the  parson."  —  Singing 
to  the  fishes.  —  Green  Erin.  —  One  long  cheer.  —  Farewell, 
Ireland 13 

CHAPTER   II. 

FIRST  DAYS  IN  ENGLAND. 

Up  the  harbor  of  Liverpool.  —  "We  all  emerge  as  butterflies.  — 
The  Mersey  tender.  —  Lot's  wife.  —  "  Any  tobacco  ? "  — 
"Names,  please."  — St.  George's  Hall.  — The  fashionable 
promenade.  —  The  coffee-room.  —  The  military  man  who 
showed  the  purple  tide  of  war  in  his  face.  —  The  railway 
carnage. — The  young  man  with  hair  all  aflame. — English 
villages.  —  London.  —  No  place  for  us.  —  The  H.  house.  — 
The  Babes  in  the  Wood.  —The  party  from  the  country.  —  We 
are  taken  in  charge  by  the  Good  Man. — The  Golden  Cross. — 
Solitary  confinement.  —  Mrs.  B.'s  at  last.  ....    27 

7 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  III. 

EXCURSIONS  FROM  LONDON. 

Strange  ways.  —  "  The  bears  that  went  over  to  Charlestown."  — 
The  delights  of  a  runaway  without  its  dangers. — Flower 
show  at  the  Crystal  Palace.  —  Whit-Monday  at  Hampton 
Court— A  queen  baby.  — "But  the  carpets ?"  — Poor  Nell 
Gwynne. -- Vandyck  faces.  — Royal  beds. —  Lunch  at  the 
King's  Arms.  —  O  Music,  how  many  murders  have  been  com- 
mitted in  thy  name !  —  Queen  Victoria's  home  at  Windsor.  — 
A  new  "house  that  Jack  built."— The  Round  Tower.— Stoke 
Pogis.  —  Frogmore.  —  The  Knights  of  the  Garter.  —  The 
queen's  gallery.- The  queen's  plate.  — The  royal  mews.— 
The  wicker  baby- wagons.— The  state  equipages.     .       .       .    43 

CHAPTER   IV. 

SIGHT-SEEING  IN  LONDON. 

The  Tower.— 'The  tall  Yankee  of  inquiring  mind.  — Our  guide 
in  gorgeous  array. — War  trophies.  —  Knights  in  armor. — 
A  professional  joke. — The  crown  jewels  — The  room  where 
the  little  princes  were  smothered.  —  The  "  Traitor's  Gate."  — 
The  Houses  of  Parliament. — What  a  throne  is  like. — The 
"  woolsack." —  The  Peeping  Gallery  for  ladies.  —  Westminster 
Hall  and  the  law  courts. — The  three  drowsy  old  women.  — 
The  Great  Panjandrum  himself.  —  Johnson  and  the  pump.  — 
St.  Paul's.  —  Wellington's  funeral  car.  —  The  Whispering 
Gallery.— The  beU 65 

CHAPTER  V. 

AWAY  TO  PARIS. 

The  wedding  party.— The  canals. — New  Haven.  —  Around  the 
tea-table.  —  Sepai-ating  the  sheep  from  the  goats.  —  "  Will  it 


CONTENTS,  9 

be  a  rough  passage  ?  "—Gymnastic  feats  of  the  little  steamer. 
— O,  what  were  officers  to  us  ?  —  "Who  ever  invented  ear- 
rings ? " — Dieppe. — Fish- wives.  —  Train  for  Paris. — Fellow- 
passengers. —  Rouen.  —  Babel.  —  Deliverance.         .       .       .68 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  PARIS    OF  1869. 

The  devil.— Cathedrals  and  churches.  —  The  Louvre.  —  Mod- 
em French  art.  —  The  Beauvais  clock,  with  its  droll,  little 
puppets.  — Virtue  in  a  red  gown. — The  Luxembourg  Palace. 
—  The  yawning  statue  of  Marshal  Ney.  —  Gay  life  by  gas- 
light.—The  Imperial  Circus. —  The  Opera  — How  the  em- 
peror and  empress  rode  through  the  streets  after  the  riots.  — 
The  beautiful  Spanish  woman  whose  face  was  her  fortune.  — 
Napoleon's  tomb 76 

CHAPTER  VII. 

SIGHTS  IN  THE  BEAUTIFUL  CITY. 

The  Gobelin  tapestry.  —  How  and  where  it  is  made.  —  P^re  La- 
Chaise. —  Poor  Rachel!  — The  baby  establishment.  —  "Now 
I  lay  me." — The  little  mother.  —  The  old  woman  who  lived 
in  a  shoe.  —  The  American  chapel.  —  Beautiful  women  and 
children. — The  last  conference  meeting. —  "I'm  a  proof- 
reader, I  am." 90 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

SHOW  PLACES  IN  THE  SUBURBS  OF  PARIS. 

The  river  omnibuses.  —  Sevres  and  its  porcelain.  —  St.  Cloud  as 
it  was.  —  The  crooked  little  town.  —  "Versailles.  —  Eugenie's 
"  spare  bedroom."  —  The  queen  who  played  she  was  a  farmer's 
wife.  —  Seven  miles  of  paintings.  — The  portraits  of  the  presi- 
dents  100 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

A  VISIT  TO  BRUSSELS. 

To  Brussels.  —  The  old  and  new  city.  —The  paradise  and  purga- 
tory of  dogs.  —  The  Hotel  de  Ville  and  Grand  Place.  —  St. 
Gudule.  —  The  picture  galleries.  —  Wiertz  and  his  odd  paint- 
ings. —  Brussels  lace  and  an  hour  with  the  lace-makers. — 
How  the  girls  found  Charlotte  Bronte's  school.  —  The  scene 
of  "ViUette." 109 

CHAPTER  X. 

WATERLOO  AND  THROUGH  BELGIUM. 

To  Waterloo.  —  Beggars  and  guides.  —  The  Mound.  —  Chateau 
Hougomont.  —  Victor  Hugo's  "  sunken  road."  —Antwerp.  — 
A  visit  to  the  cathedral.  —  A  drive  about  the  city.  —  An  ex- 
cursion to  Ghent.  —  The  funeral  services  in  the  cathedral.  — 
"  Poisoned  ?  Ah,  jKjor  man ! " — The  watch-tower.  —  The 
Friday-market  square.  —  The  nunnery.  —  Longfellow's  pil- 
grhns  to "  the  belfry  of  Bruges."       .       .       ...       .       .122 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  TRIP  THROUGH  HOLLAND. 

Up  the  Meuse  to  Rotterdam.  —  Dutch  sights  and  ways.  —  The 
pretty  milk-carriers.  —  The  tea-gardens.  —  Preparations  for 
the  Sabbath.  —An  English  chapel.  —  "  The  Lord's  bam."  — 
From  Rotterdam  to  the  Hague.  —  The  queen's  "  House  in  the 
Wood."  —  Pictures  in  private  drawing-rooms.  —  The  bazaar. 
—  An  evening  in  a  Dutch  tea-garden.  —  Amsterdam  to  a 
stranger.  —  The  "  sights."  —  The  Jews'  quarter.  —  The  family 
whose  home  was  upon  the  canals.  —  Out  of  the  city.  —  The 
pilgrims 134 


CONTENTS,  11 

CHAPTER  XU. 

THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA. 

First  glimpse  of  the  Rhine.  —  Cologne  and  the  Cathedral.  — 
"  Shosef  in  ter  red  coat."  —  St.  Ursula  and  the  eleven  thou- 
sand virgins.  —  Up  the  Rhine  to  Bonn.  —  The  German  stu- 
dents. —  Rolandseck. —  A  search  for  a  resting-place.  —  Our 
Dutch  friend  and  his  Malays.  —  The  story  of  Hildegund.  — 
A  quiet  Sabbath.  —  Our  Dutch  friend's  reply.  —  Coblentz. — 
The  bridge  of  boats.  —  Ehrenbreitstein,  over  the  river.  —  A 
scorching  day  upon  the  Rhine.  —  Romance  under  difficulties. 

—  Mayence.  —  Frankfort.  —  Heidelberg.  —  The  ruined  castle. 

—  Baden-Baden.  —  A  glimpse  at  the  gambling.  —  The  new 
and  the  old  "  Schloss."  —  The  Black  Forest.— Strasbourg.  — 
The  mountains.  147 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND. 

The  Lake  of  Lucerne.  —  Days  of  rest  in  the  city.  —  An  excur- 
sion up  the  Righi.  —  The  crowd  at  the  summit.  —  Dinner  at 
midnight.  —  Rising  before  "the  early  worm."  — The  "sun- 
rise "  according  to  Murray.  —  Animated  scarecrows.  —  Off  for 
a  tour  through  Switzerland.  —  The  lake  for  the  last  time.  — 
Grutlii.  —  William  Tell's  chapel.  —  Fluellen.  —  Altorf.  —  Swiss 
haymakers.  —  An  hour  at  Amsteg.  —  The  rocks  close  in. — 
The  Devil's  Bridge.  — The  dangerous  road.  —  "A  carriage  has 
gone  over  the  precipice!"  —  Andermatt.  —  Desolate  rocks. — 
Exquisite  wild  flowers.  —  The  summit  of  the  Furka.  —  A  de- 
scent to  the  Rhone  glacier.  —  Into  the  ice.  —  Swiss  villages.  — 
Brieg.  —  The  convent  inn. — The  bare  little  chapel  on  the  hill. 
—  ToMartigny 168 


12  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

AMONG  THE  EVERLASTING  HILLS. 

The  quaint  inn.  —  The  Falls  of  the  Sallenches,  and  the  Gorge 
de  Trient.  —  Shopping  in  a  Swiss  village.  — A  mule  ride  to 
Chamouni.  —  Peculiarities  of  the  animals.  —  Entrance  to  the 
village.  —  Egyptian  mummies  lifted  from  the  mules.  —  Rainy- 
days.  —  Chamois.  —  The  Mer  de  Glace.  —  "  Look  out  of  your 
window."  —  Mont  Blanc.  —  Sallenches.  —  A  diligence  ride  to 
Geneva.  — Our  little  old  woman.  — The  clownish  peasant.— 
The  fork  in  the  road.  — "Adieu." 189 

CHAPTER  XV. 

LAST  DAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND. 

Geneva.  —  Calvin  and  jewelry.  —  Up  Lake  Leman.  —  Ouchy  and 
Lausanne. — "  Sweet  Clarens." — Chillon. — Freyburg. — Sight- 
seers.—  The  Last  Judgment.  —  Berne  and  its  bears.- The 
town  like  a  story.  —  The  Lake  of  Thun.  —  Interlaken.  —  Over 
the  Wengern  Alp.  —  The  Falls  of  Giessbach.  —  The  Brunig 
Pass.  —  Lucerne  again 201 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE. 

Coming  home. — The  breaking  up  of  the  party.  —  We  start 
for  Paris  alone.  —  Basle,  and  a  search  for  a  hotel.  —  The 
twilight  ride.  —  The  shopkeeper  whose  wits  had  gone  "a 
wool-gathering." — "Two  tickets  for  Paris."  —  What  can  be 
the  matter  now  ?  —  Michel  Aiigelo's  Moses.  —  Paris  at  mid- 
night.— The  kind  commissionaire.  —  The  good  French  gentle- 
man and  his  fussy  little  wife. — A  search  for  Miss  H.'s. — 
"  Come  up,  come  up."  —  "  Can  women  travel  through  Europe 
alone  ? "    A  word  about  a  woman's  outfit 220 


AN 

AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

CHAPTER  I. 

ABOARD    THE    STEAMEB. 

We  two  alone.  —  "  Good  by." —  "  Are  you  the  captain  of  this 
ship?"  —  Wretchedness.  —  The  jolly  Englishman  and  the 
Yankee.  —  A  sail !  —  The  cattle-man.  —  The  Jersey-man  whose 
bark  was  on  the  sea.  —  Church  services  under  difficulties.  — 
The  sweet  young  English  face.  —  Down  into  the  depths  to 
worship.  —  "Beware!  I  stand  by  the  Parson."  —  Singing 
to  the  fishes.  —  Green  Erin.  —  One  long  cheer.  —  Farewell 
Ireland, 

WE  were  going  to  Europe,  Mrs.  K.  and  I  — 
alone,  with  the  exception  of  the  ship's  com- 
pany —  unprotected,  save  by  Him  who  watches  over 
the  least  of  his  creatures.  We  packed  our  one  trunk, 
upon  which  both  name  and  nationality  were  conspicu- 
ously blazoned,  with  the  necessaries,  not  luxuries,  of  a 
woman's  toilet,  and  made  our  simple  preparations  for 
departure  without  a  shadow  of  anxiety.  "  They  who 
know  nothing,  fear  nothing,"  said  the  paterfamilias, 
but  added  his  consent  and  blessing.  The  rain  poured 
in  torrents   as   we   drove    down  to  the   wharf     But 

13 


14  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

floods  could  not  have  dampened  our  enthusiasm.  A 
wild  Irishman,  with  a  suggestion  of  spirituous  things  in 
his  air  and  general  appearance,  received  us  at  the  foot 
of  the  plank,  one  end  of  which  touched  earth,  the  other 
that  urxexplored  region,  the  steamer.  We  followed  the 
direction  of  his  dirty  finger,  and  there  fell  from  our 
eyes,  as  it  were,  scales.  In  our  ignorance,  we  had  ex- 
pected to  find  vast  space,  elegant  surroundings,  glass, 
glare,  and  glitter.  We  peered  into  the  contracted  quar- 
ters of  the  ladies'  cabin.  One  side  was  filled  with 
boxes  and  bundles ;  the  other,  with  the  prostrate  forai 
of  an  old  lady,  her  head  enveloped  in  a  mammoth  ruf- 
fle. We  explored  the  saloon.  The  purser,  with  a  wen 
and  a  gilt-banded  cap  on  his  head,  was  flying  about  like 
one  distracted.  An  old  gentleman  similarly  attired, 
with  the  exception  of  the  wen,  —  the  surgeon  as  we  af- 
terwards learned,  —  read  a  large  book  complacently  in 
one  comer,  murmuring  gently  to  himself.  His  upper 
teeth  lacked  fixity,  so  to  speak ;  and  as  they  fell  with 
every  word,  he  had  the  appearance  of  gnashing  them 
continually  at  the  invisible  author.  There  was  a  hurry- 
ing to  and  fro  of  round,  fresh-faced  stewards  in  short 
jackets,  a  pushing  and  pulling  of  trunks  and  boxes,  the 
sudden  appeaiTince  and  disappearance  of  nondescript 
individuals  in  slouched  hats  and  water-proofs,  the  Stir- 
ling about  of  heavy  feet  upon  the  deck  above,  the  rat- 
tling of  chains,  the  *yo-ing'  of  hoarse  voices,  as  the 
sailors  pulled  at  the  ropes,  and,  with  it  all,  that  sicken- 
ing odor  of  oil,  of  dead  dinners  —  of  everything,  so  in- 
describable, so  never-to-be-forgotten.  Somewhat  sad- 
dened, and  considerably  enlightened  upon  the  subject 
of   ocean    steamers^   we    sought    our    state-room.     It 


ABOARD    THE   STEAMER.  15 

boasted  two  berths  (the  upper  oonveniently  gained  by 
mounting  the  stationary  wash-stand),  and  a  velvet-cov- 
ered sofa  beneath  the  large,  square  window,  which  last 
we  learned,  months  later,  when  reduced  to  a  port-hole 
for  light  and  air,  to  appreciate.  A  rack  and  half  a 
dozen  hooks  against  the  wall  completed  its  furniture. 

The  time  of  departure  arrived.  We  said  the  two 
little  words  that  bring  so  many  tears  and  heartaches, 
and  ran  up  on  the  deck  with  the  rain  in  our  faces,  and 
something  that  was  not  all  rain  in  our  eyes,  for  one 
last  look  at  our  friends ;  but  they  were  hidden  from 
sight.  There  comes  to  me  a  dim  recollection  of  at- 
tempting to  mount  to  an  inaccessible  place:  of 
clinging  to  wet  ropes  with  the  intention  of  seeing  the 
last  of  the  land;  of  thinking  it,  after  a  time,  a  senseless 
proceeding,  and  of  resigning  ourselves  finally  to  our 
berths  and  inevitable  circumstances.  Eight  bells  and 
the  dinner  bell;  some  one  darkened  our  doorway. 

"  What's  this  ?  Don't  give  it  up  so.  D'ye  hear  the 
dinner  bell?" 

"  Are  —  are  you  the  captain  of  this  ship  ?  "  gasped 
Mrs.  K.,  feebly,  from  the  sofa. 

"  To  be  sure,  madam.     Don't  give  it  up  so." 

Mrs.  K.  groaned.  There  came  to  me  one  last  gleam 
of  hope.  What  if  it  were  possible  to  brave  it  out !  In 
a  moment  my  feet  were  on  the  floor,  but  whether  my 
name  were  McGregor,  or  not,  I  could  not  tell.  I  made 
an  abortive  attempt  after  the  pretty  hood,  prepared 
with  such  pleasant  anticipations,  and  had  a  dim  con- 
sciousness that  somebody's  hands  tied  it  about  my 
head.  Then  we  started.  We  climbed  heights,  we  de- 
scended depths  indescribable,  in  that  short  walk  to  the 


16  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

saloon,  and  there  was  a  queer  feeling  of  having  a  wind- 
mill, instead  of  a  head,  upon  my  shoulders.  A  numher 
of  sympathizing  faces  were  nodding  in  the  most  re- 
markable manner,  as  we  reached  the  door,  and  the 
tables  performed  antic  evolutions. 

"  Take  me  back !  "  and  the  bertii  and  the  little  round 
stewardess  received  me.  There  followed  a  night  of 
misery.  One  can  form  no  idea,  save  from  experience, 
of  the  horrors  of  the  first  night  upon  an  ocean  steamer. 
There  are  the  whir,  and  buzz,  and  jar,  and  rattle,  and 
bang  of  the  screw  and  engine ;  the  pitching  and  rolling 
of  the  ship,  with  the  sensation  of  standing  upright  for 
a  moment,  and  then  of  being  made  to  rest  comfortably 
upon  the  top  of  your  head;  the  sense  of  undergoing  in- 
ternal somersaults,  to  say  nothing  of  describing  eveiy 
known  curve  externally.  You  study  physiology  invol- 
untarily, and  doubt  if  your  heart,  your  lungs,  or  indeed 
any  of  your  internal  organs,  are  firmly  attached,  after 
all;  if  you  shall  not  lose  them  at  the  next  lurch  of 
the  ship.  Your  head  is  burning  with  fever,  your  hands 
and  feet  like  ice,  and  you  feel  dimly,  but  wretchedly, 
that  this  is  but  the  beginning  of  sorrows ;  that  there  are 
a  dozen  more  days  to  come.  You  are  conscious  of  a 
vague  wonder  (as  the  night  lengthens  out  intermina- 
bly) what  eternity  can  be,  since  time  is  so  long.  The 
bells  strike  the  half  hours,  tormenting  you  with  calcula- 
tions which  amount  to  nothing.  Everything  within' 
the  room,  as  well  as  without,  swings,  and  rolls,  and 
rattles.  You  are  confident  your  bottles  in  the  rack 
will  go  next,  and  don't  much  care  if  they  do,  though 
you  lie  and  dread  the  crash.  You  are  tormented 
with    thirst,    and    the    ice-water    is    in    that    same 


ABOARD    THE   STEAMER.  17 

rack,  just  beyond  your  reach.  The  candle  in  its  silver 
case,  hinged  against  the  wall,  swings  back  and  forth 
with  dizzy  motion,  throwing  moving  distorted  shad- 
ows over  everything,  and  making  the  night  like  a 
sickly  day.  You  long  for  darkness,  and,  when  at  last 
the  light  grows  dim,  until  only  a  red  spark  remains 
and  the  smoke  that  adds  its  mite  to  your  misery, 
long  for  its  return.  At  regular  intervals  you  hear  the 
tramp,  tramp,  overhead,  of  tlie  relieving  watch ;  and, 
in  the  midst  of  fitful  slumbers,  the  hoarse  voices  of 
the  sailors,  as  the  wind  freshens  and*  they  hoist  the 
sails,  wake  you  from  frightful  dreams.  At  the  first  gray 
dawn  of  light  come  the  swash  of  water  and  the  tric- 
kling down  of  the  stream  against  your  window,  with  the 
sound  of  the  holy-stones  pushed  back  and  forth  upon 
the  deck.  And  with  the  light  —  O,  blessed  light !  — 
came  to  us  a  dawn  of  better  things. 

There  followed  days  when  we  lay  contented  upon  the 
narrow  sofa,  or  within  the  contracted  berths,  but  when 
to  lift  our  heads  was  woe.  A  kind  of  negative  blessed- 
ness —  absence  from  misery.  We  felt  as  if  we  had  lost 
our  heart,  our  conscience,  and  almost  our  immortal 
soul,  to  quote  Mark  Twain.  There  remained  to  us 
only  those  principles  and  prejudices  most  firmly 
rooted  and  grounded.  Even  our  personal  vanity  left 
us  at  last,  and  nothing  could  be  more  forsaken  and  ap- 
propriate than  the  plain  green  gown  with  its  one  row  of 
military  buttons,  attired  in  which,  day  after  day,  I  idly 
watched  the  faces  that  passed  our  door.  "That's  llLe 
you  Americans,"  said  our  handsome  young  Irish  doc- 
tor, pointing  to  these  same  buttons.  "  You  can't  leave 
your  country  without  taking  the  spread-eagle  with  you!" 
2 


18  AJ^  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Our  officers,  with  this  one  exception,  were  English. 
Our  captain,  a  living  representative  of  the  traditional 
English  sailor.  Not  young,  save  in  heart;  simple, 
unaffected,  and  fi*ank  in  manner,  but  with  a  natural 
dignity  that  prevented  undue  familiarity,  he  sang  about 
the  ship  from  morning  till  night,  with  a  voice  that 
could  carry  no  air  correctly,  but  with  an  enjoyment  de- 
lightful to  witness  —  always  a  song  suggested  by  exist- 
ing circumstances,  but  with 

"  Cheer,  boys,  cheer;  ray  mother's  sold  her  mangle," 

when  everything  else  failed.  He  was  forward  among 
the  men  on  the  deck  with  an  eye  to  the  wind,  down 
below  bringing  fruit  and  comfort  to  the  sick  in  the 
steerage,  dealing  out  apples  and  oranges  to  the  chil- 
dren, with  an  encouraging  word  and  the  first  line  of  a 
song  for  everybody. 

The  life  of  the  ship  was  an  Englishman,  with  the 
fresh  complexion  almost  invariably  seen  upon  Eng- 
lishmen, and  forty  years  upon  a  head  that  looked 
twenty-five.  He  was  going  home  after  a  short  tour 
through  the  United  States,  with  his  mind  as  frill  of 
prejudices  as  his  memorandum-book  was  of  notes.  He 
chanced,  oddly  enough,  to  room  with  the  genuine 
Yankee  of  the  company  —  a  long,  lean,  good-natured  in- 
dividual from  one  of  the  eastern  states,  "  close  on  ter 
Vamiont,"  who  had  a  way  of  rolling  his  eyes  fearfully, 
especially  when  he  glared  at  his  food.  He  represented 
a  mowing  machine  company,  and  we  called  him  "  the 
Mowing  Machine  Man."  He  accosted  us  one  day,  si- 
dling up  to  our  door,  with,  "  How  d'ye  do  to-day  ?  " 

"  Better,  thank  you,"  I  replied  from  the  sofa. 


ABOARD    THE   STEAMER.  19 

"  That's  real  nice.  Tell  ye  what,  we'll  be  glad  to  see 
the  ladies  out.  How's  yer  mar?"  nodding  towards 
the  berth  from  which  twinkled  Mrs.  K.'s  eyes.  I 
laughed,  and  explained  that  our  relations  were  of  affec- 
tion rather  than  consanguinity.  His  interest  increased 
when  he  found  we  were  travelling  alone.  He  gave  us 
his  London  address,  evidently  considering  us  in  the  light 
of  Daniels  about  to  enter  the  lions'  den.  "Ef  ye  have 
any  trouble,"  said  he,  as  he  wrote  down  the  street  and 
number,  "  there's  one  Yankee'U  stand  up  for  ye."  He 
amused  the  Englishman  by  calling  out,  "  Hullo.  D'ye 
feel  good  this  morning  ?  "  "  No,"  would  be  the  reply, 
with  a  burst  of  laughter ;  "  I  feel  awful  wicked ;  think 
I'll  go  right  out  and  kill  somebody." 

There  was  a  shout  one  morning,  "  A  sail !  See  the 
stars  and  stripes ! "  I  had  not  raised  my  head  for 
days,  but  staggered  across  the  floor  at  that,  and  cling- 
ing to  the  frame,  thrust  my  head  out  of  the  window. 
Yes,  there  was  a  ship  close  by,  with  the  stars  and 
stripes  floating  from  the  mast-head,  I  found,  when  the 
roll  of  the  steamer  carried  my  window  to  its  level. 
"  Seems  good  ter  see  the  old  rag ! "  I  looked  up  to  find 
the  Mowing  Machine  Man  gazing  upon  it  with  eyes  all 
afloat.  "  I'd  been  a  thinking,"  said  he,  "  all  them  fel- 
lers have  got  somebody  waiting  for  'em  over  there,"  — 
our  passengers  were  mostly  English,  —  "but  there 
wasn't  nobody  a  waiting  for  me.  Tell  ye  what,"  —  and 
he  shook  out  the  folds  of  a  red  and  yellow  handker- 
chief, — "  it  does  my  heart  good  ter  see  the  old  flag." 
There  was  a  bond  of  sympathy  between  us  from  that 
moment. 

We   had  another  and  less  agreeable  specimen  of 


20  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

this  free  people  —  a  tall,  tough  western  cattle  dealer, 
who  quarrelled  if  he  could  find  an  antagonist,  swore 
occasionally,  di-ank  liquor,  and  chewed  tobacco  perpet- 
ually, wore  his  trousers  tucked  into  his  long  boots,  his 
hands  tucked  into  his  pockets,  and,  to  crown  these 
attributes,  believed  in  Andrew  Johnson !  —  a  middle- 
aged  man,  with  soft,  curling  brown  hair  above  a 
face  that  could  be  cruelly  cold  and  hard.  His  hair 
should  have  been  wire ;  his  blue  eyes  were  steel.  But 
hard  as  was  his  face,  it  softened  and  smoothed  itself  a 
little  at  sight  of  the  sick  women.  He  paused  beside 
us  one  day  with  a  rough  attempt  to  interest  and 
amuse  by  displaying  a  knife  case  containing  a  dozen 
different  articles.  "  This  is  ter  take  a  stun  out  of  a 
boss's  huf,  and  this,  d'ye  see,  is  a  tooth -pick ; "  putting 
it  to  immediate  use  by  way  of  explanation.  At  the 
table  he  talked  long  and  loud  upon  the  rinderpest,  and 
other  kindred  and  appetizing  topics.  "I've  been  a 
butcher  myself,"  he  would  say.  "  I've  cut  up  hundreds 
o'  critters.  What  part  of  an  ox,  now,  d'ye  think  that 
was  taken  from?"  pointing  to  the  joint  before  him, 
and  addressing  a  refined,  delicate-faced  old  gentleman 
across  the  table,  who  only  stared  in  silent  horror. 

But  even  the  "Cattle  Man"  was  less  marked  in 
his  ))eculiarities  than  the  "  Jersey  Man,"  a  melancholy- 
eyed,  curly-wigged  individual  from  the  Jersey  shore, 
who  wore  his  slouched  hat  upon  one  side  of  his  head, 
and  looked  as  though  he  were  doing  the  rakish  lover 
in  some  fifth-rate  theatre;  who  was  "in  the  musical 
line  myself;  Smith  and  Jones's  organs,  you  know; 
that's  me ; "  and  who,  being  neither  Smith  nor  Jones,  we 
naturally  concluded   must  be  the  organ.      He  recited 


ABOARD   THE  STEAMER.  21 

poetry  in  a  loud  tone  at  daybreak,  and  discussed  politics 
for  hours  together,  arguing  in  the  most  satisfactory 
manner  with  the  principles,  and  standing  most  will- 
ingly upon  the  platform,  of  everybody.  He  assumed  a 
patronizing  air  towards  the  Mowing  Machine  Man. 
"  Well,  you  are  a  green  Yankee,"  he  would  say ;  "  lucky 
for  you  that  you  fell  in  with  me ; "  to  which  the  latter 
only  chuckled,  "  That's  so."  He  had  much  to  tell  of 
himself,  of  his  grandmother,  and  of  his  friends  generally, 
who  came  to  see  him  off;  "  felt  awfully,  too,"  which  we 
could  hardly  credit ;  rolled  out  snatches  of  sentimental 
songs,  iterating  and  reiterating  that  his  bark  was  on 
the  sea,  —  and  a  most  disagreeable  one  we  found  it; 
wished  we  had  a  piano  on  board,  to  which  we  mur- 
mured, "  The  Lord  forbid ; "  and  hoped  we  should  soon 
be  well  enough  to  join  him  in  the  "  White  Squall."  He 
was  constantly  reminding  us  that  we  were  a  very 
happy  family  party,  so  "congenial,"  and  evidently 
agreed  with  the  Mowing  Machine  Man,  who  said, 
"They're  the  best  set  of  fellows  I  ever  see.  They'll 
tell  ye  anything." 

We  numbered  a  clergyman  among  us,  of  course. 
"  Always  a  head  wind  when  there's  a  parson  aboard," 
say  the  sailors.  So  this  poor  dyspeptic  little  man 
bore  the  blame  of  our  constant  adverse  winds.  Noth- 
ing more  bigoted,  more  fanatical  than  his  religious  be- 
lief could  be  imagined.  You  read  the  terrors  of  the 
Lord  in  his  eye ;  and  yet  he  won  respect,  and  some- 
thing more,  by  his  consistency  and  zeal.  Earnestness 
will  tell.  "  The  parson  will  have  great  influence  over 
the  Cattle  Man,"  the  captain  said,  Sabbath  morning, 
as  we  were  walking  the  deck.    "  The  Cattle  Man  ? " 


22  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

"  Yes,  the  parson  will  get  a  good  hold  of  him."  Just 
then,  as  if  to  prove  the  old  proverb  true,  that  his 
Satanic  majesty  is  always  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood when  his  character  is  under  discussion,  the  Cat- 
tle Man  and  Jersey  came  up  the  companion-way.  "  If 
you  please,  captain,"  said  the  former,  "  we  are  a  com- 
mittee to  ask  if  the  parson  may  preach  to  the  steerage 
people  to-night."  "  Certainly,"  was  the  reply ;  "  I  will 
attend  myself."  They  thanked  him,  and  went  below, 
leaving  me  utterly  amazed.  They  were  the  last  men 
upon  the  ship  whom  one  would  have  selected  as  a 
committee  upon  spiritual  things ! 

The  church  service  for  the  cabin  passengers  was  held 
in  the  saloon.  A  velvet  cushion  upon  one  end  of  the 
long  table  constituted  the  pulpit,  before  which  the  min- 
ister stood,  holding  fast  to  the  rack  on  either  side,  and 
bracing  himself  against  the  captain's  chair  in  the  rear. 
Even  then  he  made,  involuntarily,  more  bows  than  any 
ritualist,  and  the  scripture,  "  What  went  ye  out  for  to 
see  ?  A  reed  shaken  by  the  wind  ?  "  would  present  itself. 
The  sailors  in  their  neat  dress  filed  in  and  ranged 
themselves  in  one  comer.  The  stewards  gathered 
about  the  door,  one,  with  face  like  an  owl,  most 
conspicuous.  The  passengers  filled  their  usual  seats, 
and  a  delegation  from  the  steerage  crept  shyly  into 
the  unoccupied  space — women  with  shawls  over 
their  heads  and  babies  in  their  arms,  shock-headed 
men  and  toddling  children,  but  all  with  an  evident  at- 
tempt at  approj^riate  dress  and  manner.  Among  them 
was  one  sweet  young  English  face  beneath  an  old 
crape  bonnet.  A  pair  of  shapely  hands,  which  the 
shabby  black  gloves  could  not  disguise,  held  fast  a  lit- 


ABOARD    THE   STEAMER.  23 

tie  child.  Widowhood  and  want  in  the  old  world ; 
what  was  waiting  her  in  the  new  ?  The  captain  read 
the  service,  and  all  the  people  responded.  The 
women's  eyes  grew  wet  at  the  sound  of  the  familiar 
words.  The  little  English  widow  bent  her  face  ov6r 
the  head  of  the  child  in  her  lap,  and  something  glis- 
tened in  its  hair.  Our  sympathies  grew  wide,  and  we 
joined  in  the  prayer  for  the  queen,  that  she  might  have 
victory  over  her  enemies,  and  even  murmured  a  re- 
sponse to  the  petition  for  Albert  Edward  and  the  no- 
bility, dimly  conscious  that  they  needed  prayers.  The 
good  captain  added  a  petition  for  the  president  of  the 
United  States,  to  which  the  Mowing  Machine  Man  and 
I  said,  "Amen."  Then  the  minister,  having  poised 
himself  carefully,  read  a  discourse,  sulphurous  but  sin- 
cere; the  Mowing  Machine  Man  thrusting  his  elbow 
into  my  side  in  a  most  startling  manner  at  every  par- 
ticularly blue  point.  We  were  evidently  in  symj^athy ; 
but  I  could  have  dispensed  with  the  expression  of  it. 
We  closed  with  the  doxology,  standing  upon  our 
feet  and  swaying  back  and  forth  as  though  it  had  been 
a  Shaker  chant,  led  by  an  improvised  choir  and  the 
Jersey  Man. 

At  night  we  descended  into  the  depths  of  the  steam- 
er to  worship  with  the  steerage  passengers.  It  was 
like  one  of  Rembrandt's  pictures  —  the  darkness,  the 
wild,  strangely-attired  people,  the  weird  light  from  the 
lanterns  piercing  the  gloom,  and  bringing  out  group 
after  group  with  fearful  distinctness ;  the  pale,  earnest 
face  of  the  preacher,  made  almost  unearthly  by  the  glare 
of  the  yellow  light  —  a  face  with  its  thin-drawn  lips,  its 
eyes  like  coals  of  fire  such  as  the  flames  of  martyrdom  lit 


24  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

once,  I  imagine.  Close  beside  him  stood  the  Cattle 
Man,  towering  like  Saul  above  the  people,  and  with  an 
air  that  plainly  said,  "  Beware — I  stand  by  the  parson." 

"  There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight," 

repeated  the  minister;  and  in  a  moment  the  words  rolled 
out  of  the  Cattle  Man's  mouth  while  he  beckoned  with 
his  long  arm  for  the  people  to  rise.  Throwing  back 
his  head,  he  sang  with  an  unction  indescribable,  verse 
after  verse,  caught  doubtless  at  some  western  camp- 
meeting,  where  he  had  tormented  the  saints.  One  after 
another  took  up  the  strain.  Clear  and  strong  came  the 
tones  from  every  dark  corner,  until,  like  one  mighty 
voice,  while  the  steamer  rolled  and  the  waves  dashed 
against  its  sides,  rose  the  words 

"  Not  Jordan's  stream,  nor  death's  cold  flood, 
Shall  fright  us  from  that  shore." 

A  great  stillness  fell  upon  the  people  as  the  minister 
gave  out  his  text,  and  began  his  discourse.  He  had 
lacked  freedom  in  the  saloon,  but  here  he  forgot  every- 
thing save  the  words  given  him;  hard  words  they 
seemed  to  me,  containing  little  of  the  love  of  God.  I 
glanced  at  the  Mowing  Machine  Man,  who  had  made  a 
seat  of  half  a  barrel  under  the  stairs.  He  winked  in  a 
fearful  manner,  as  though  he  would  say,  *'  Just  see  how 
he's  a  goin'  on ! "  But  the  people  received  it  gladly. 
One  after  another  of  the  sailors  crept  down  the  stairs 
and  stood  in  the  shadow.  I  watched  them  curiously. 
It  may  be  that  this  stern,  hard  doctrine  suited  these 
stern,  hard  men.     It  made  me  shudder. 

But  the  record  of  all  these  days  would  have  no  end. 
How  can  I  tell  of  the  long,  happy  hours,  when  more 


ABOARD    THE   STEAMER.  25 

than  strength,  when  perfect  exhilaration,  came  to  us ; 
Avhen  existence  alone  was  a  delight?  To  sit  upon  the  low 
wheel-house,  with  wraps  and  ribbons  and  hair  flying  in 
the  wind,  while  we  sang, — 

"  O,  a  life  on  the  ocean  wave !  " 

to  admiring  fishes ;  to  watch  the  long,  lazy  swell  of  the 
sea,  or  the  spray  breaking  from  the  tops  of  the  white 
caps  into  tiny  rainbows ;  to  walk  the  rolling  deck  for 
hours  with  never  a  shadow  of  weariness  ;  to  cHng  to  the 
flag-staff  when  the  stern  of  the  ship  rose  in  the  air  then 
dropped  like  a  heavy  stone  into  the  sea,  sending  the 
spray  far  over  and  above  us ;  to  count  the  stars  at  night, 
watching  the  other  gleaming  phosphorescent  stars  that 
seemed  to  have  fallen  from  heaven  upon  the  long  wake 
of  the  steamer,  —  all  this  was  a  delight  unspeakable. 

One  morning,  when  the  land  seemed  a  forgotten 
dream,  we  awoke  to  find  green  Erin  close  beside  us. 
All  the  day  before  tlie  sea-gulls  had  been  hovering 
over  us — beautiful  creatures,  gray  above  and  white 
beneath,  clouds  with  a  silver  lining.  Tiny  land  birds, 
too,  flew  about  us,  resting  wearily  upon  the  rigging. 
The  sea  all  at  once  became  like  glass.  It  seemed  like 
the  book  of  Revelation  when  the  sun  shone  on  it,  — 
the  sea  of  sflass  mino^led  with  fire.  For  a  time  the  land 
was  but  a  line  of  rock,  with  martello  towers  perched 
upon  the  points.  On  the  right,  Fastnet  Rock  rose  out 
of  the  sea,  crowned  with  a  light-house ;  then  the  gray 
barren  shore  of  Cape  Clear  Island,  and  soon  the  sharp- 
pointed  Stag  Rocks.  It  is  a  treacherous  coast.  "  I've 
been  here  many  a  night,"  said  the  captain,  as  he 
gave  us  his  glass,  "when  I   never   expected  to  see 


26  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

morning."  And  all  the  while  he  was  speaking,  the  sea 
smiled  and  smiled,  as  though  it  could  never  be  cruel. 

We  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  until  we  could  see 
the  green  fields  bounded  by  stone  walls,  the  white, 
winding  roads,  and  little  villages  nestling  among  the 
hills.  Towards  noon  the  lovely  harbor  of  Queens- 
town  opened  before  us,  surrounded  and  almost  shut 
in  by  rocky  islands.  Through  the  glass  we  could 
see  the  city,  with  its  feet  in  the  bay.  We  were  no 
longer  alone.  The  horizon  was  dotted  with  sails. 
Sometimes  a  steamer  crossed  our  wake,  or  a  ship  bore 
down  upon  us.  We  hoisted  our  signals.  We  dipped 
our  flag.  The  sailors  were  busy  painting  the  boats, 
and  poliskiflg  the  brass  till  it  shone  again.  Now  the 
tender  steams  out  from  Queenstown.  The  steerage 
passengers  in  unwonted  finery,  tall  hats  and  uneaithly 
bonnets,  and  one  in  a  black  silk  gown,  are  running 
about  forward,  shaking  hands,  gathering  up  boxes 
and  bundles,  and  pressing  towards  the  side  which  the 
tender  has  reached.  There  are  the  shouting  of  orders, 
the  throwing  of  a  rope,  and  in  a  moment  they  are 
crowding  the  plank.  One  long  cheer,  echoed  from 
the  stern  of  our  steamer,  and  they  are  off. 

All  day  we  walked  the  deck ;  even  tlie  sick  crawled  up 
at  last  to  see  the  panorama.  We  still  lingered  when 
night  fell,  and  we  had  turned  away  from  the  land  to  strike 
across  the  channel,  and  the  picture  rests  with  me  now ; 
the  jDurple  sky  with  one  long  stretch  of  purple,  hazy 
cloud,  behind  which  the  sun  went  down ;  the  long,  low 
line  of  purple  rock,  our  last  glimpse  of  Ireland,  and 
the  shining,  purple  sea,  with  not  a  ripple  upon  its  sur- 
face. 


FIRST  BATS  IN  ENGLAND.  27 


CHAPTER   n. 

FIEST   DAYS    IN   ENGLAND. 

Up  the  harbor  of  Liverpool.  —  We  all  emerge  as  bntterflies.  — 
The  Mersey  tender. — Lot's  wife.  —  "Any  tobacco?"  — 
"Names,  please."  —  St.  George's  Hall. — The  fashionable 
promenade.  —  The  coffee-room.  —  The  military  man  who 
showed  the  purple  tide  of  war  in  his  face.  —  The  railway 
carriage.  —  The  young  man  with  hair  all  aflame  —  English 
villages.  —  London.  —  No  place  for  us.  —  The  H.  house.  — 
The  Babes  in  the  Wood.  —  The  party  from  the  country.  — 
We  are  taken  in  charge  by  the  Good  Man.  —  The  Golden 
Cross.  —  Solitary  confinement.  —  Mrs.  B.'s  at  last. 

WE  steamed  up  the  harbor  of  Liverpool  the  next 
morning.  New  Brighton,  with  its  green  ter- 
races, its  Chinese-pagoda  villas,  spread  out  upon  one 
side,  upon  the  other  that  solid  wall  of  docks,  the  barri- 
cade that  breaks  the  constant  charges  of  the  sea,  with 
the  masts  of  ships  from  every  land  for  an  abattis.  The. 
wraps  and  shapeless  garments  w^orn  so  long  were  laid 
aside ;  the  pretty  hood  which  had,  like  charity,  covered 
so  many  sins  of  omission,  hidden,  itself,  at  last,  the 
soft  wool  stiffened  with  the  sea  spray,  the  bright  colors 
dimmed  by  smoke,  and  soot,  and  burning  sun.  We  crept 
shyly  upon  the  deck  in  our  unaccustomed  finery,  as 
though  called  at  a  moment's   notice  to  play  another 


28  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

woman's  part,  half-learned.  Not  in  us  alone  was  the 
transformation.  The  girl  in  blue  had  blossomed  into  a 
a  bell  —  a  blue  bell.  The  Cattle  Man,  his  hands  re- 
leased at  last  from  the  thraldom  of  his  pockets,  stalked 
about,  funereal,  in  wrinkled  black.  A  solferino  neck-tie 
and  tall  hat  of  a  pre-Adaraite  formation  transmogrified 
our  Mowing  Machine  friend.  Nondescripts,  that  had 
lain  about  the  deck  wrapped  in  cocoons  of  rugs  and 
shawls,  emerged  suddenly  —  butterflies!  A  painful 
courtesy  seized  us  all.  We  had  doffed  the  old  familiar 
intercourse  with  our  sea-garments.  We  gathered  in 
knots,  or  stood  apart  singly,  mindful  at  last  of  our 
dignity. 

The  Mersey  tender  (a  tender  mercy  to  some)  puffed 
out  to  meet  us,  and  we  descended  the  plank  as  those 
who  turn  away  from  home,  leaving  much  of  our 
thoughts,  and  something  of  our  hearts,  within  the 
ship.  It  had  been  such  a  place  of  rest,  of  blessed 
idleness !  Only  when  our  feet  touched  the  wharf  did 
we  take  up  the  burden  of  life  again.  There  were  the 
meeting  of  friends,  in  which  we  had  no  part;  the  mael- 
strom of  horses,  and  carts,  and  struggling  humanity,  in 
which  we  found  a  most  unwilling  place ;  and  then  we 
followed  fast  in  the  footsteps  of  the  Mowing  Machine 
Man,  who  in  his  turn  followed  a  hair-covered  trunk 
upon  the  shoulders  of  a  stout  porter,  our  destination  the 
custom-house  shed  close  by.  For  a  moment,  as  we 
were  tossed  hither  and  thither  by  the  swaying  mass, 
our  desires  followed  our  thoughts  to  a  certain  sheltered 
nook,  upon  a  still,  white  deck,  with  the  sunbeams 
slanting  down  through  the  furled  sails  above,  with  the 
lazy,  lapping  sea  below,  and  only  our  own  idle  thoughts 
for  company.    Then  we  remembered  Lot's  wife. 


FIRST  DA  rS  IN  ENGLAND.  29 

There  was  a  Kttle  meek-faced  custom-house  officer 
ill  waiting,  with  a  voice  so  out  of  proportion  to  his 
size,  that  he  seemed  to  have  hired  it  for  the  occasion, 
or  come  into  it  with  his  uniform  by  virtue  of  his  office. 
"  Any  tobacco  ? "  he  asked,  severely,  as  we  lifted  the 
lid  of  our  one  trunk.  We  gave  a  virtuous  and  indig- 
nant negative.  That  was  all.  We  might  go  our  sev- 
eral ways  now  unmolested.  One  fervent  expression  of 
good  wishes  among  our  little  company,  while  we  make 
for  a  moment  a  network  of  clasped  hands,  and  then  we 
pass  out  of  the  great  gates  into  our  new  world,  and  into 
the  clutches  of  the  waiting  cabmen.  By  what  stroke 
of  good  fortune  we  and  our  belongings  were  consigned 
to  one  and  the  same  cab,  in  the  confusion  and  terror 
of  the  moment,  we  did  not  know  at  the  time.  It  was 
clearly  through  the  intervention  of  a  kind  fellow-pas- 
senger, who,  seeing  that  amazement  enveloped  us  like 
a  garment,  kindly  took  us  in  charge.  The  dazed,  as 
well  as  the  lame  and  lazy,  are  cared  for,  it  seems.  By 
what  stroke  of  good  fortune  we  ever  reached  our  desti- 
nation, we  knew  still  less.  Our  cab  was  a  triumph  of 
impossibilities,  uncertainties,  and  discomfort.  Our  at- 
tenuated beast,  like  an  animated  hoop  skirt,  whose 
bones  were  only  prevented,  by  the  encasing  skin, 
from  flying  off  as  we  turned  the  corners,  experienced 
hardly  less  difficulty  in  drawing  his  breath  than  in 
diawing  his  load.  We  descended  at  the  entrance  to 
the  hotel  as  those  who  have  escaped  from  imminent 
peril.  We  mounted  the  steps  —  two  lone,  but  by  no 
means  lorn,  damsels,  two  anxious,  but  by  no  means 
aimless  females,  knowing  little  of  the  world,  less  of 
travelling,  and  nothing  whatever  of  foreign  ways.    Our 


30  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

very  air,  as  we  entered  the  door,  was  an  apology  for 
the  intrusion. 

"  Names,  please,"  said  the  smiling  man  in  waiting, 
opening  what  appeared  to  be  the  book  of  fate.  We 
added  ours  to  the  long  list  of  pilgrims  and  strangers 
who  had  sojourned  here,  dotting  our  i's  and  crossing 
our  t's  in  the  most  elegant  manner  imaginable.  If  any 
one  has  a  doubt  as  to  our  early  advantages,  let  him  ex- 
amine the  record  of  the  Washington  Hotel,  Liverpool. 
The  heading,  "Remarks,"  upon  the  page,  puzzled  us. 
Were  they  to  be  of  a  sacred  or  profane  nature  ?  Of  an 
autobiographical  character?  Were  they  to  refer  to  the 
dear  land  we  had  just  left?  Through  some  political 
throes  she  had  just  brought  forth  a  ruler.  Should  we 
add  to  the  TJ.  S.  against  our  names,  "  As  well  as  could 
be  expected"?  We  hesitated,  —  and  wrote  nothing. 
Up  the  wide  stairs,  past  the  transparency  of  Washing- 
ton—  in  the  bluest  of  blue  coats,  the  yellowest  of  top 
boots,  and  an  air  of  making  the  best  of  an  unsought 
and  rather  ridiculous  position  —  we  followed  the  doily 
upon  the  head  of  the  pretty  chambermaid  to  our  wide, 
comfortable  room,  with  its  formidable,  high-curtained 
beds.  The  satchels  and  parcels  innumerable  were 
propped  carefully  into  .rectitude  upon  the  dressing 
table,  under  the  impression  that  the  ship  would  give 
a  lurch ;  and  then,  gazing  out  through  the  great  plate 
glass  windows  upoi;  the  busy  square  below,  we  endeav- 
ored to  compose  our  perturbed  minds  and  gather  our 
scattered  wits. 

It  is  not  beautiful,  this  great  city  of  Livei'pool,  creep- 
ing up  from  the  sea.  It  has  little  to  interest  a  stranger 
aside   from    its   magnificent    docks    and   warehouses. 


FIRST  DATS  IN  ENGLAND.  31 

There  are  mammoth  truck  horses  from  Suffolk,  with 
feet  like  cart  wheels ;  there  is  St.  George's  Hall,  the 
pride  of  the  people,  standing  in  the  busy  square  of  the 
same  name,  with  a  statue  of  the  saint  himself — a  ter- 
ror to  all  dragons — just  before  it.  It  is  gray,  many  col- 
umned, wide  stepped,  vast  in  its  proportions.  Do  you 
care  for  its  measurement  ?  Having  seen  that,  you  are 
ready  to  depart ;  and,  indeed,  there  is  nothing  to  detain 
one  here  beyond  a  day  of  rest,  a  moment  to  regain 
composure  after  the  tossing  of  the  sea.  There  are  some 
substantial  dwellings,  —  for  commerce  has  its  kings, — 
and  some  fine  shops,  —  for  commerce  also  has  its 
queens,  —  and  one  fine  drive,  of  which  we  learned  too 
late.  The  air  of  endurance,  which  pervades  the  whole 
city,  as  it  does  all  cities  in  the  old  world,  impresses  one 
greatly,  as  though  they  were  built  for  eternity,  not 
time;  the  founders  having  forgotten  that  here  we  are 
to  have  no  continuing  city.  In  the  new  world,  man 
tears  down  and  builds  up.  Every  generation  moulds 
and  fashions  its  towns  and  cities  after  its  own  desires, 
or  to  suit  its  own  means.  Man  is  master.  In  the  old 
world,  one  generation  after  another  surges  in  and  out 
of  these  grim,  gray  walls,  leaving  not  so  much  as  the 
mark  the  waves  leave  upon  the  rocks.  Unchanged, 
unchanging,  they  stand  age  after  age,  time  only  soften- 
ing the  hard  outlines,  deepening  the  shadows  it  has 
cast  upon  them,  and  so  bringing  them  into  a  likeness 
of  each  other  that  they  seem  to  have  been  the  design 
of  one  mind,  the  work  of  one  pair  of  hands,  and  hardly 
of  mortal  mind  or  hands  at  that.  They  seem  to  say  to 
man,  "We  have  stood  here  ages  before  you  were  born. 
We  shall  stand  here  ages  after  you  are  forgotten." 


32  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

They  must  be  filled  with  echoes,  with  ghosts,  and 
haunting  memories. 

Bold  Street,  a  tolerably  naiTOw  and  winding  way,  in 
which  many  are  found  to  walk,  —  contrary  to  all  prece- 
dent,—  boasts  the  finest  shops.  Here  the  Lancashire 
witches,  as  the  beauties  of  the  county  are  called,  walk, 
and  talk,  and  buy  gewgaws  of  an  afternoon.  It  was 
something  strange  to  us  to  see  long  silken  skirts  en- 
tirely destitute  of  crinoline,  ruffle,  or  flounce,  trailed 
here  through  mud  and  mire,  or  raised  displaying 
low  Congress  gaiters,  destitute  of  heels.  For  our- 
selves, if  we  had  been  the  king  of  the  Cannibal  Islands, 
we  could  hardly  have  attracted  more  attention  than 
we  did  in  our  plain,  short  travelling  suits  and  high- 
heeled  boots.  It  grew  embarrassing,  especially  when 
our  expression  of  unqualified  benevolence  drew  after 
us  a  train  of  beggars.  They  crossed  the  street  to  meet 
us.  They  emerged  from  every  side  street  and  alley, 
thrusting  dirty  hands  into  our  faces,  and  repeating 
twice-told  tales  in  our  ears,  until  we  were  thankful 
when  oblivion  and  the  shadow  of  the  hotel  fell 
upon  us. 

We  dined  in  the  coffee-room,  —  that  comfortable  and 
often  delightfully  cosy  aj^artment  fitted  with  little 
tables,  and  with  its  corner  devoted  to  books,  to  papers 
and  conversation,  —  that  combination  of  dining,  tea  and 
reading-room  unknown  to  an  American  hotel,  —  sacred 
to  the  sterner  sex  from  all  time,  and  only  opened  to  us 
within  a  few  years,  —  the  gates  being  forced  then,  I 
imagine,  by  American  women,  who  will  not  consent  to 
hide  their  light  under  a  bushel,  or  keep  to  some  far- 
away corner,  unseeing  and  unseen.     English  women, 


FIRST  DATS  IN  ENGLAND.  33 

as  a  rule,  take  their  meals  in  their  own  private  parlors. 
Perhaps  because  English  men  generally  desire  the  flow- 
ers intrusted  to  their  fostering  care  to  blush  unseen. 
It  may  be  better  for  the  gardeners ;  it  may  be  better  for 
the  flowers  —  I  cannot  tell ;  but  we  dined  in  the  coflTee- 
room,  as  Americans  usually  do.  One  of  the  clergymen, 
who  attend  at  such  places,  received  our  order.  It  was 
not  so  very  formidable  an  afiair,  after  all,  this  going 
down  by  ourselves ;  or  would  not  have  been,  if  the  big- 
eyed  waiter,  who  watched  our  every  movement,  would 
have  left  us,  and  the  military  man  at  the  next  table, 
who  showed  "the  purple  tide  of  war,"  or  something 
else,  in  his  face,  and  blew  his  nose  like  a  trombone, 
ceased  to  stare.  As  it  was,  we  aired  our  most  elegant 
table  manners.  "We  turned  in  our  elbows  and  turned 
out  our  toes, — so  to  speak, —  and  ate  our  mutton  with  a 
grace  that  destroyed  all  appetite.  We  tried  to  appear 
as  though  we  had  frequently  dined  in  the  presence  of 
a  whole  battalion  of  soldiery,  under  the  scrutiny  of  in- 
numerable waiters,  —  and  failed,  I  am  sure.  "With 
verdure  clad"  was  written  upon  every  line  of  our 
faces.  The  occasion  of  this  cross  fire  we  do  not  know 
to  this  day.  Was  it  unbounded  admiration?  Was  it 
spoons  ? 

Having  brushed  ofi*  the  spray  of  the  sea,  having 
balanced  ourselves  upon  the  solid  earth,  having  seen 
St.  George's  Hall,  there  was  nothing  to  detain  us 
longer,  and  the  next  morning  we  were  on  our  way  to 
London.  We  had  scrutinized  our  bill,  —  which  might 
have  been  reckoned  in  pounds,  ounces,  and  penny- 
weights, for  aught  we  knew  to  the  contrary,  —  and  in- 
formed the  big-eyed  waiter  that  it  was  con-ect.  We 
3 


34  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

had  also  offered  him  imploringly  our  largest  piece  of 
silver,  which  he  condescended  to  accept ;  and  having 
been  presented  with  a  ticket  and  a  handful  of  silver 
and  copper  by  the  porter  who  accompanied  us  to  the 
station  across  the  way,  in  return  for  two  or  three  gold 
pieces,  we  shook  off  the  dust  of  Liverpool  from  our 
feet,  turned  our  eyes  from  the  splendors  of  St.  George's 
Hall,  and  set  our  faces  steadfastly  towards  our  destina- 
tion. There  was  a  kind  of  luxury,  notwithstanding  our 
prejudices,  in  this  English  railway  carriage,  with  its 
cushions  all  about  us,  even  beneath  our  elbows ;  a  rest- 
fulness  unknown  in  past  experience  of  travel,  in  the 
ability  to  turn  our  eyes  away  from  the  flying  landscape 
without,  to  the  peaceful  quiet,  never  intruded  upon, 
within.  We  did  not  miss  the  woman  who  will  insist 
upon  closing  the  window  behind  you,  or  opening  it,  as 
the  case  may  be.  Not  one  regret  had  we  for  the 
"B-o-s-t-o-n  papers ! "  nor  for  the  last  periodical  or  noveL 
The  latest  fishion  gazette  was  not  thrown  into  our  lap 
only  to  be  snatched  away,  as  we  became  interest- 
ed in  a  plan  for  rejuvenating  our  wardrobe;  nor  were 
we  assailed  by  venders  of  pop  com,  apples,  or  gift 
packages  of  candy.  Even  the  blind  man,  with  his 
offering  of  execrable  poetry,  was  unknown,  and  the 
conductor  examined  our  tickets  from  outside  the  win- 
dow. Settling  back  among  our  cushions,  while  we 
mentally  enumerated  these  blessings  of  omission,  there 
came  a  thought  of  the  perils  incurred  by  solitary  fe- 
males locked  into  these  same  comfortable  carriages 
with  madmen.  If  the  danger  had  been  so  great  for 
one  solitary  female,  what  must  it  be  for  two,  we 
thought  with  horror.     We  gave  a  quick  glance  at  our 


FIRST  DATS  IN  ENGLAND.  35 

fellow-passenger,  a  young  man  with  hair  all  aflame. 
Certainly  his  eyes  did  roll  at  that  moment,  but  it  was 
only  in  search  of  a  newsboy;  and  when  he  exclaimed, 
like  any  American  gentleman,  "Hang  the  boy!"  we 
became  perfectly  reassured.  He  proved  a  most  agree- 
able travelling  companion.  We  exchanged  questions 
and  opinions  upon  every  subject  of  mutual  interest, 
from  the  geological  formation  of  the  earth  to  the 
Alabama  claims.  I  can  hardly  tell  which  astonished 
us  most,  his  profound  erudition  or  our  own.  Now,  I 
have  not  the  least  idea  as  to  whether  Lord  John  Rus- 
Bell  sailed  the  Alabama,  or  the  Alabama  sailed  of  itself, 
spontaneously ;  but,  whichever  way  it  was,  I  am  con- 
vinced it  was  a  most  iniquitious  proceeding,  and  so 
thought  it  safe  to  take  high  moral  ground,  and  assure 
him  that  as  a  nation  we  could  not  allow  it  to  go  un- 
punished. You  have  no  idea  what  an  assistance  it  is, 
when  one  is  somewhat  ignorant  and  a  good  deal  at 
a  loss  for  arguments,  to  take  high  moral  ground. 

When  we  were  weary  of  discussion,  when  knowl- 
edge palled  upon  our  taste,  we  pulled  aside  the  little 
blue  curtain,  and  gave  ourselves  up  to  gazing  upon  the 
picture  from  the  window.  I  doubt  if  any  part  of  Eng- 
land is  looked  upon  with  more  curious  eyes  than  that 
lying  between  Liverpool  and  London.  It  is  to  so  many 
Americans  the  first  glimpse  of  strange  lands.  Spread 
out  in  almost  imperceptible  furrows  were  the  velvet 
turfed  meadows,  the  undipped  hedges  a  mass  of 
tangled  greenness  between.  For  miles  nnd  miles  they 
stretched  away,  with  seldom  a  road,  never  a  solitary 
house.  The  banks  on  either  side  were  tufted  with 
broom  and  yellow  with  gorse;  the  hill-sides  in  the 


36  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

distance,  white  with  chalk,  or  black  with  the  heather 
that  Avould  blossom  into  purple  beauty  with  the  sum- 
mer. We  rushed  beneath  arches  festooned,  as  for  a 
gala-day,  with  hanging  vines.  Tiny  gardens  bloomed 
beside  the'  track  at  every  station,  and  all  along  the 
walls,  the  arched  bridges,  and  every  bit  of  stone  upon 
the  wayside,  was  a  mass  of  clinging,  glistening  ivy. 
Kot  the  half-dead,  straggling  thing  we  tend  and  shield 
so  carefully  at  home,  with  here  and  there  a  leaf  put 
forth  for  very  shame.  These,  bright,  clear-cut,  deep- 
tinted,  crowded  and  overlapped  each  other,  and  ran 
riot  over  the  land,  transfonning  the  dingy,  mildewy 
cottages,  bits  of  imperishable  ugliness,  into  things  of 
beauty,  if  not  eternal  joys.  Not  in  the  least  picturesque 
or  pleasing  to  the  eye  were  these  English  villnges; 
straggling  rows  of  dull  red  brick  houses  set  amidst 
the  fields  —  dirty  city  children  npon  a  picnic  —  with  a 
foot  square  garden  before  each  door,  cared  for  possibly, 
possibly  neglected.  A  row  of  flower-pots  upon  the 
stone  ledge  of  every  little  window,  a  row  of  chimney- 
pots upon  the  slate  roof  of  every  dwelling.  Sometimes 
a  narrow  road  twisted  and  writhed  itself  from  one  to 
another,  edged  by  liigh  brick  walls,  hidden  beneath  a 
weight  of  ivy;  sometimes  romantic  lanes,  shaded  by 
old  elms,  and  green  beyond  all  telling.  The  towns 
were  much  the  same,  —  outgrown  villages.  And  the 
glimpse  we  caught,  as  we  flew  by,  so  far  above  the 
roofs  often  that  we  could  almost  peep  down  ujjon  the 
hearths  through  the  chimney  tops,  was  by  no  means 
inviting. 

Dusk  fell  upon  us  with  the  smoke,  and  mist,  and  driz- 
zling rain  of  London,  bringing  no  anxiety ;  for  was  there 


FIRST  DATS  IN  ENGLAND.  37 

not,  through  the  thoughtfulness  of  friends,  a  place 
prepared  for  us  ?  Our  pleasant  acquaintance  of  the 
golden  locks  forsook  his  own  boxes,  and  bundles,  and 
innumerable  belongings  to  look  for  our  baggage,  and 
saw  us  safely  consigned  to  one  of  the  dingy  cabs  in 
waiting.  I  tmst  the  people  of  our  own  country  repay 
to  wanderers  there  something  of  the  kindness  which 
American  women,  travelling  alone,  receive  at  the  hands 
of  strangers  abroad.  It  was  neither  the  first  nor  the 
last  courtesy  proifered  most  respectfully,  and  received 
in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  offered.  There  is  a  deal 
of  nons^se  in  the  touch-me-not  air  with  which  many 
go  out  to  see  the  world,  as  there  is  a  deal  of  folly  in 
the  opposite  extreme.  But  these  acquaintances  of  a 
day,  the  opportunity  of  coming  face  to  face  with  the 
people  in  whose  country  you  chance  to  be,  of  hearing 
and  answering  their  strange  questions  in  regard  to 
our  government,  our  manners  and  customs,  as  well  as  in 
displaying  our  own  ignorance  in  regard  to  their  insti- 
tutions, in  giving  information  and  assistance  when  it  is 
in  our  power,  and  in  gratefully  receiving  the  same 
from  others,  —  all  this  constitutes  one  of  the  greatest 
pleasures  of  journeying. 

Our  peace  of  mind  received  a  rude  shock,  when, 
after  rattling  over  the  pavings  around  the  little  park 
in  Queen's  Square,  and  pulling  the  bell  at  Mr.  B.'s 
bohrding-house,  we  found  that  v©  were  indeed  ex- 
pected, but  indefinitely,  and  no  place  awaited  us.  We 
had  forgotten  to  telegraph.  It  was  May,  tiie  Lon- 
don season,  and  the  hotels  full.  "X.  told  us  you 
were  coming,"  said  the  most  lady-like  landlady,  lead- 
ing us  into  the  drawing-room  from  the  dank  darkness 


88  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

of  the  street.  There  was  a  glow  of  red-hot  coals  in 
the  grate,  a  suggestion  of  warmth  and  comfort  in  the 
briglit  colors  and  cosy  appointments  of  the  room  — 
but  no  place  for  us.  "  I'm  very  sorry  ;  if  you  had  tele- 
gi-aphed  —  but  we  can  take  you  by  Monday  certainly," 
she  said.  I  counted  my  fingers.  Two  days.  Ah! 
but  we  might  peiish  in  the  streets  before  that.  Every- 
thing began  to  grow  dark  and  doleful  in  contemplation. 
Some  one  entered  the  room.  The  landlady  turned  to 
him :  "  O,  here  is  the  good  man  to  whose  care  you  were 
consigned  by  X."  We  gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  as  we 
greeted  the  Good  Man,  for  all  our  courage,*  like  the 
immortal  Bob  Acres's,  had  been  oozing  from  our  finger 
ends.  And  if  we  possess  one  gift  above  another,  it 
is  an  ability  to  be  taken  care  of  "Do  you  know 
X.  ? "  asked  another  gentleman,  glancing  up  from  his 
writing  at  the  long,  red-covered  table.  "We  trav- 
elled with  him,"  nodding  towards  his  daughter,  whose 
feet  touched  the  fender,  "  through  Italy,  last  winter." 
"Indeed—" 

"  I'll  just  send  out  to  a  hotel  near  by,"  interrupted 
kind  Mrs.  B.,  "  and  see  if  you  can  be  accommodated  a 
day  or  two."  How  very  bright  the  room  became !  The 
world  was  not  hollow,  after  all,  nor  our  dolls  stuffed 
with  sawdust.  Even  the  cabman's  rattle  at  the 
knocker,  and  demand  of  an  extra  sixpence  for  waiting, 
could  not  disturb  our  serenity.  The  messenger  re- 
turned. Yes ;  we  could  be  tnken  in  (?)  at  the  H.  house ; 
and  accepting  Mrs.  B.'s  invitation  to  return  and  spend 
the  evening,  we  mounted  to  our  places  in  the  little 
cab,  as  though  it  had  been  a  triumphal  car,  and  were 
whizzed  around  the  corner  at  an  alarming  pace  by  the 
impatient  cabman. 


FIRST  DA  rs  IN  ENGLAND.  39 

I  should  be  sorry  to  prejudice  any  one  against  the 
H.  house  —  which  I  might  perhaps  say  is  not  the  H. 
house  at  all ;  I  hardly  like  to  compare  it  to  a  whited 
sepulchre,  though  that  simile  did  occur  to  my  mind. 
Very  fair  in  its  exterior  it  was,  with  much  plate  glass, 
and  ground  glass,  and  gilding  of  letters,  and  shining 
of  brass.  It  had  been  two  dwelling-houses;  it  was 
now  one  select  family  hotel.  But  the  two  dwelling- 
houses  had  never  been  completely  merged  into  one ; 
never  married,  but  joined,  like  the  Siamese  twins. 
There  was  a  confusing  double  stairway;  having  as- 
cended the  right  one,  you  were  morally  certain  to  de- 
scend the  wrong.  There  was  a  confusing  double  hall, 
with  doors  in  every  direction  opening  everywhere  but 
upon  the  way  you  desired  to  go.  We  mounted  to  the 
top  of  the  house,  followed  by  two  porters  with  our  lug- 
gage, one  chambermaid  with  the  key,  another  to  ask 
if  we  would  dine,  and  two  more  bearing  large  tin  cans 
of  hot  water.  We  grew  confused,  and  gasped,  "  We 
—  we  believe  we  don't  care  for  any  moi'e  at  'present, 
thank  you,"  and  so  dismissed  them  all.  The  furniture 
was  so  out  of  proportion  to  the  room  that  I  think  it 
must  have  been  introduced  in  an  infant  state,  and  grown 
to  its  present  proportions  there.  The  one  window 
was  so  high  that  we  were  obliged  to  jump  up  to  look 
out  over  the  mirror  upon  the  bureau — a  gymnastic  feat 
we  did  not  care  to  repeat.  The  bed  curtains  were 
gray;  mdeed  there  was  a  gray  chill  through  the  whole 
place.  We  sat  down  to  hold  a  council  of  war.  We 
resolved  ourselves  into  a  committee  of  ways  and 
means,  our  feet  upon  the  cans  of  hot  water.  "  Pleas- 
ant," I  said,  as  a  leading  remark,  my  heart  beginnnig 


40  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

to  warm  under  the  influence  of  the  hot  water.  "  Pleas- 
ant?" repeated  Mrs.  K. ;  "it's  enough  to  make  one 
homesick.  We  can't  stay  here."  "  But,"  I  interposed, 
"suppose  we  leave  here,  and  can't  get  in  anywliere 
else  ? "  A  vision  of  the  Babes  in  the  Wood  rose  be-- 
fore  me.  There  was  a  rap  at  the  door;  the  fourth 
chambermaid,  to  announce  dinner.  We  finished  our 
consultation  hurriedly,  and  descended  to  the  parlor, 
where  we  were  to  dine.  It  was  a  small  room,  already 
occupied  by  a  large  table  and  a  party  from  the  country; 
an  old  lady  to  play  propriety,  a  middle-aged  person  of 
severe  countenance  to  act  it,  and  a  pair  of  incipient 
and  insipid  lovers.  He  was  a  spectacled  prig  in  a 
white  necktie,  a  clergyman,  I  suppose,  though  he  looked 
amazingly  like  a  waiter,  and  she  a  little  found  combi- 
nation of  dimples  and  giggle. 

He.  "  Have  you  been  out  for  a  walk  this  mom- 
ing?" 

She.     "No;  te-he-he-he." 

He.     "  You  ought  to,  you  know." 

She.    «  Te-he-he-he  —  yes." 

He,    "  You  should  always  exercise  before  dinner." 

She.    "Te-he-he-he." 

flere  the  words  gave  out  entirely,  and,  it  being  re- 
markably droll,  all  joined  in  the  chorus.  "  We  must 
go  somewhere  else,  if  possible,"  we  explained  to  Mrs. 
B.,  when,  a  little  later,  we  found  our  way  to  her  door. 
"  At  least  we  shall  be  better  contented  if  we  make  the 
attempt."  The  Good  JVIan  offered  his  protection ;  we 
found  a  cab,  and  proceeded  to  explore  the  city,  asking 
admittance  in  vain  at  one  hotel  after  another,  until  at 
last  the  Golden  Cross  upon  the  Strand,  more  charitable 


FIRST  DATS  IN  ENGLAND.  41 

than  its  neighbor,  or  less  full,  opened  its  doors,  and  the 
good  landlady,  of  unbounded  proportions,  made  us  both 
welcome  and  comfortable.  Quite  palatial  did  our  neat 
bed-room,  draped  in  white,  appear.  We  were  the  proud 
possessors,  also,  of  a  parlor,  with  a  round  mirror  over 
the  mantel,  a  round  table  in  the  centre,  a  sofa,  of  which 
Pharaoh's  heart  is  no  comparison  as  regards  hardness, 
a  row  of  stifl^  proper  arm-chairs,  and  any  amount  of  or- 
namentation in  the  way  of  works  of  art  upon  the  walls, 
and  shining  snuffers  and  candlesticks  upon  the  mantel. 
Our  bargain  completed,  there  remained  nothing  to  be 
douQ  but  to  remove  our  baggage  from  the  other  house, 
which  I  am  sure  we  could  never  have  attempted 
alone.  Think  of  walking  in  and  addressing  the  land- 
lady, while  the  chambermaids  and  waiters  peeped  from 
behind  the  doors,  with,  "  We  don't  like  your  house, 
madam.  Your  rooms  are  tucked  up,  your  beds  uninvit- 
ing, your  chambermaids  frowsy,  your  waiters  stupid, 
and  your  little  parlor  an  abomination."  How  could 
we  have  done  it?  The  Good  Man  volunteered.  "  But 
do  you  not  mind  ?  "  "  Not  in  the  least."  Is  it  not 
wonderful  ?  How  can  we  believe  in  the  equality  of 
the  sexes  ?  In  less  than  an  hour  we  were  temporarily 
settled  in  our  new  quarters,  our  rescued  trunks  con- 
signed to  the  little  bed-room,  our  heart-felt  gratitude 
in  the  possession  of  the  Good  Man. 

We  took  our  meals  now  in  our  own  parlor,  trying 
the  solitary  confinement  system  of  the  English  during 
our  two  days'  stay.  It  seemed  a  month.  Not  a  sign  of 
life  was  there,  save  the  landlady's  pleasant  face  behind 
the  bar  and  the  waiter  who  answered  our  bell,  with  the 
exception  of  a  pair  of  mammoth  shoes  before  the  next 


42  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

door,  mornings,  and  the  bearded  face  of  a  man  that  star- 
tled us,  once,  upon  the  stairs.  And  yet  the  house  was 
full.  It  was  a  relief  when  our  two  clays  of  banishment 
were  over,  when  in  Mrs.  B.'s  pretty  drawing-room,  and 
around  her  table,  we  could  again  meet  friends,  and  real- 
ize that  we  were  still  in  the  world. 


EXCURSIONS  FROM  LONDON.  43 


CHAPTER  III. 

EXCUKSIONS   FEOM   LONDON". 

Strange  ways.  —  "  The  bears  that  went  over  to  Charlestown."  — 
The  delights  of  a  runaway  without  its  dangers. — Flower 
show  at  the  Crystal  Palace.  —  Whit-Monday  at  Hampton 
Court.  —  A  queen  baby.  —  "But  the  carpets?"  —  Poor  Nell 
Gwynne.  —  Vandyck  ftices.  —  Royal  beds.  —  Lunch  at  the 
King's  Arms.  —  O  Music,  how  many  murders  have  been  com- 
mitted in  thy  name  !  —  Queen  Victoria's  home  at  Windsor.  — 
A  new  "house  that  Jack  built."  —  The  Round  Tower.  — Stoke 
Pogis.  —  Frogmore. — The  Knights  of  the  Garter.  —  The 
queen's  gallery.  —  The  queen's  plate.  —  The  royal  mews.  — 
The  wicker  baby- wagons.  — The  state  equipages. 

WE  bought  an  umbrella,  —  every  one  buys  an 
umbrella  who  goes  to,  London,  —  and  this,  in 
its  alpaca  glory,  became  our  constant  companion.  We 
purchased  a  guide-book  to  complete  our  equipments; 
but  so  disreputable,  so  yellow-covered,  ^vas  its  outward 
appearance,  so  suggestive  of  everything  but  facts,  that 
we  consigned  it  to  oblivion,  and  put  ourselves  under 
the  guidance  of  our  Boston  friends,  the  Good  Man  and 
his  family. 

For  two  busy  weeks  we  rattled  over  the  flat  pavings 
of  the  city  in  the  low,  one-horse  cabs.  We  climbed 
towers,  we  descended  into  crypts,  we  examined  tomb- 


44  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

stones,  we  gazed  upon  mummies.  Everything  was 
new,  strange,  and  wonderful,  even  to  the  little  boys  in 
the  street,  who,  as  well  as  the  omnibus  drivers,  were 
decked  out  in  tall  silk  hats  —  a  piece  of  absurdity  in 
one  case,  and  extravagance  in  the  other,  to  our  minds. 
The  one-horse  carriages  rolled  about  uj^on  two  wheels ; 
the  occupants,  like  cross  children,  facing  in  every  direc- 
tion but  the  one  they  were  going,  and  everybody,  con- 
trary to  all  our  preconceived  ideas  of  law  and  order, 
turned  to  the  left,  instead  of  to  the  right,  —  to  say 
nothing  of  other  strange  and  perplexing  ways  that 
came  under  our  observation.  "We  had  come  abroad 
upon  the  same  errand  as  the  bears  who  "  went  over  to 
Charlestown  to  see  what  they  could  see,"  and  so  stared 
into  every  window,  into  every  passing  face,  as  though 
we  were  seeking  the  lost.  We  became  known  as  the 
women  who  wanted  a  cab ;  our  appearance  within  the 
iron  posts  that  guard  the  entrance  to  Queen's  Square 
from  Southampton  Row  being  the  signal  for  a  per- 
fect Babel  of  unintelligible  shouts  and  gesticulations 
down  the  long  line  of  waiting  vehicles,  with  the  char- 
ging down  upon  us  of  the  first  half  dozen  in  a  highly 
dangerous  manner.  Wisdom  is  sometimes  the  growth 
of  days;  and  we  soon  learned  to  dart  out  in  an  un. 
expected  moment,  utterly  deaf  and  blind  to  everything 
and  everybody  but  the  first  man  and  the  first  horse, 
and  thus  to  go  off  in  triumph. 

But  if  our  exit  was  triumphant,  what  was  our  entry 
to  the  square,  when  weary,  faint  with  seeing,  hearing, 
and* trying  in  vain  to  fix  everything  seen  and  heard  in 
our  minds,  we  returned  in  a  hansom !  English  ladies 
do  not  much  affect  this  mode  of  conveyance,  but  Amer- 


EXCURSIONS  FROM  LONDON.  45 

ican  women  abroad  have,  or  take,  a  wide  margin  in 
matters  of  mere  conventionality,  —  and  so  ride  in  lian- 
som  cabs  at  will.  They  are  grown-up  baby  perambu- 
lators upon  two  wheels ;  the  driver  sitting  up  behind, 
where  the  handle  would  be,  and  drawing  the  reins  of 
interminable  length  over  the  top  of  the  vehicle.  Pic- 
ture it  in  your  mind,  and  then  wonder,  as  I  did,  what 
power  of  attraction  keeps  the  horse  upon  the  ground ; 
what  prevents  his  flying  into  the  air  when  the  driver 
settles  down  into  his  seat.  A  pair  of  low,  folding 
doors  take  the  place  of  a  lap  robe ;  you  dash  through 
the  street  at  an  alarming  rate  without  any  visible 
guide,  experiencing  all  the  deUghts  of  a  runaway 
without  any  of  its  dangers. 

FLOWER  SHOW  AT  THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE. 

A  ride  by  rail  of  half  an  hour  takes  one  to  Syden- 
ham. It  is  a  charming  walk  from  the  station  through 
the  tastefully  arranged  grounds,  with  their  shrubberies, 
roseries,  and  fountains,  along  the  pebble-strewn  paths, 
crowded  this  day  with  visitors.  The  palace  itself  is  so 
like  its  familiar  pictures  as  to  need  no  description. 
Much  of  the  grandeur  of  its  vast  proportions  within  is 
lost  by  its  divisions  and  subdivisions.  There  are 
courts  representing  the  various  nations  of  the  earth,  — 
America,  as  usual,  felicitously  and  truthfully  shown  up 
by  a  pair  of  scantily  attired  savages  under  a  palm 
tree;  there  are  the  courts  of  the  Alhambra,  of  Nin- 
eveh, and  of  Pompeii ;  there  are  fountains,  and  statues, 
and  bazaars  innumerable,  where  one  may  purchase  al- 
most anything  as  a  souvenir;  there  are  cafes  where 
one  may  refresh  the  body,  and  an  immense  concert 


46  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

hall  where  one  may  delight  the  soul,  —  and  how  much 
more  I  cannot  tell,  for  the  crowd  was  almost  beyond 
belief^  and  a  much  more  interesting  study  than  Egyp- 
tian remains,  or  even  the  exquisite  mass  of  perfumed 
bloom,  that  made  the  air  like  summer,  and  the  whole 
place  a  garden.  They  were  of  the  English  middle 
class,  the  upper  middle  class,  bordering  upon  the  no- 
bility,—  these  rotund,  fine-looking  gentlemen  in  white 
vests  and  in-eproachable  broadcloth,  these  stout,  red- 
faced,  richly-attired  ladies,  with  their  soft-eyed,  angular 
daughters  following  in  their  train,  or  clinging  to  their 
arms.  We  listened  for  an  hour  to  the  queen's  own 
band  in  scarlet  and  gold,  and  then  came  back  to  town, 
meeting  train  after  train  filled  to  ovei-flowing  with  ex- 
pensively arrayed  humanity  in  white  kids,  going  out 
for  the  evening. 

A   DAY   AT   HAMPTON   COURT. 

It  was  Whit-Monday,  —  the  vvorkingman's  holiday^ 

—  a  day  of  sun  and  shower;  but  we  took  our  turn 
upon  the  outside  of  the  private  omnibus  chartered  for 
the  occasion,  unmindful  of  the  drops ;  our  propelling 
power,  six  gray  horses.  By  virtue  of  this  private  es- 
tablishment we  were  free  to  pass  through  Hyde  Park, 

—  that  breathing-place  of  aristocracy,  where  no  public 
vehicle,  no  servant  without  livery,  is  tolerated.  It  was 
early,  and  only  the  countless  hoof  prints  upon  Rotten 
Row  suggested  the  crowd  of  wealth  and  fashion  that 
would  throng  here  later  in  the  day.  One  solitary 
equestrian  there  was ;  perched  ujDon  a  guarded  saddle, 
held  in  her  place  by  some  concealed  band,  serenely 
content,  rode  a  queen  baby  in  long,  white  robes.    A 


EXCURSIONS  FROM  LONDON.  47 

groom  led  the  little  pony.  She  looked  at  us  in  grave 
wonder  as  we  dashed  by,  —  born  to  the  i^urple!  I  can- 
not begin  to  describe  to  you  the  lising  up  of  London 
for  this  day  of  pleasure ;  the  decking  of  itself  out  in 
holiday  attire ;  the  garnishing  of  itself  with  paper  flow- 
ers; the  smooth,  hard  roads  leading  into  the  country, 
all  alive;  the  drinking,  noisy  crowd  about  tlie  door 
of  every  pot-house  along  the  way.  It  was  a  delightful 
drive  of  a  dozen  or  more  miles,  through  the  most 
charming  suburbs  imaginable,  —  past  lawns,  and  gar- 
dens, and  green  old  trees  shading  miniature  parks; 
past  "detached"  villas  that  had  blossomed  into  win- 
dows; indeed,  the  plate  glass  upon  houses  of  most 
modest  pretension  was  almost  reckless  extravagance 
in  our  eyes,  forgetting,  as  we  did,  the  slight  duty  to 
be  paid  here  upon  what  is,  with  us,  an  expensive 
luxury.  No  wonder  the  English  are  a  healthful 
people,  —  the  sun  shines  upon  them.  I  like  their  man- 
ner of  house-building,  of  home-making.  They  set  up 
first  a  ^reat  bay-window,  with  a  room  behind  it,  which 
is  of  secondary  importance,  with  wide  steps  leading  up 
to  a  door  at  the  side.  They  fill  this  window  with  the 
rarest,  rosiest,  most  rollicksome  flowers.  Then,  if  there 
remain  time,  and  space,  and  means,  other  rooms  are 
added,  the  bay-windows  increasing  in  direct  propor- 
tion; while  shades,  drawn  shades,  are  a  thing  un- 
known. "  But  the  carpets  ?  "  They  are  so  foolish  as 
to  value  health  above  carpets. 

It  was  high  noon  when  we  rolled  up  the  wide  ave- 
nue of  Bushey  Park,  with  its  double  border  of  gigantic 
chestnuts  and  limes,  through  Richmond  Park,  with  its 
vast  sweep  of  greensward  flecked  with  the  sunbeams, 


48  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

dripping  like  the  rain  through  the  royal  oaks,  past 
Richmond  terrace,  with  its  fine  residences  looking  out 
upon  the  Thames,  the  translucent  stream,  pure  and  beau- 
tiful here,  before  going  down  to  the  city  to  be  defiled  — 
like  many  a  life.  We  dismounted  at  the  gates  to  the 
palace,  in  the  ramblyig  old  village  that  clings  to  its 
skirts,  and  joined  the  crowd  passing  through  its  wide 
portals. 

It  is  an  old  palace  thrown  aside,  given  over  to  poor 
relatives,  by  royalty,  —  as  we  throw  aside  an  old  gown; 
a  vast  pile  of  dingy,  red  brick  that  has  straggled  over 
acres  of  Hampton  parish,  and  is  kept  within  bounds  by 
a  high  wall  of  the  same  ugly  material.  It  has  pushed 
itself  up  into  towers  and  turrets,  with  pinnacles  and 
sjMres  rising  from  its  battlemented  walls.  It  has  thrust 
itself  out  into  oriel  and  queer  little  latticed  windows  that 
peep  into  the  gardens  and  overhang  the  three  quad- 
rangles, and  is  with  its  vast  gardens  and  park,  with  its 
wide  canal  and  avenues  of  green  old  trees,  the  most 
delightfully  ugly,  old  place  imaginable.  Here  kmgs 
and  queens  have  lived  and  loved,  sufiTered  and  died, 
from  Cardinal  Wolsey's  time  down  to  the  days  of 
Queen  Anne.  It  is  now  one  of  England's  show  places ; 
one  portion  of  its  vast  extent,  with  the  grounds,  being 
thrown  open  to  the  public,  the  remainder  given  to  de- 
cayed nobility,  or  wandering,  homeless  representatives 
^  of  royalty,  —  a  kind  of  royal  almshouse,  in  fact.  A 
curtained  window,  the  flutter  of  a  white  hand,  were  to 
us  the  only  signs  of  inhabitation. 

Through  thirty  or  more  narrow,  dark,  bare  rooms, — 
bare  but  for  the  pictures  that  crowded  the  walls,  —  we 
wandered.    There  were  two  or  three  halls  of  stately 


EXCURSIONS  FROM  LONDON.  49 

proportions  finely  decorated  with  frescoes  by  Verrio, 
and  one  or  two  royal  stairways,  up  and  down  which 
slippered  feet  have  passed,  silken  skirts  trailed,  and 
heavy  hearts  been  carried,  in  days  gone  by.  The 
pictures  are  mostly  portraits  of  brave  men  and  lovely 
women,  of  kings  and  queens  and  royal  favorites, — 
poor  Nell  Gwynne  among  them,  who  began  life  by 
selling  oranges  in  a  theatre,  and  ended  it  by  selling  vir- 
tue in  a  palace.  The  Vandyck  faces  are  wonderfully 
beautiful.  They  gaze  upon  you  through  a  mist,  a  gold- 
en haze,  —  like  that  which  hangs  over  the  hills  in  the 
Indian  summer,  —  from  out  deep,  spiritual  eyes ;  a 
dream  of  fair  women  they  are. 

There  were  one  or  two  royal  beds,  where  uneasy 
have  lain  the  heads  that  wore  a  crown,  and  half  a 
doz§n  chairs  worked  in  tapestry  by  royal  fingers, — 
whether  preserved  for  their  questionable  beauty,  or  be- 
cause of  the  rarity  of  royal  industry,  I  do  not  know. 
We  wandered  through  the  shrubberies,  paid  a  penny  to 
see  the  largest  grape  vine  in  the  world,  —  and  wished 
we  had  given  it  to  the  heathen,  so  like  its  less  distin- 
guished sisters  did  the  vine  appear, — and  at  last  lunched 
at  the  King's  Arms,  a  queer  little  inn  just  outside  the 
gates,  edging  our  way  with  some  difficulty  through  the 
noisy,  guzzling  crowd  around  the  door — the  crowd  that, 
having  reached  the  acme  of  the  day's  felicity,  was  fast 
degenerating  into  a  quarrel.  In  the  long,  bare  room 
at  the  head  of  the  nan'ow,  winding  stairs,  we  found 
comparative  quiet.  The  tables  were  covered  with  joints 
of  beef,  with  loaves  of  bread,  pitchers  of  ale,  and  the 
ubiquitous  cheese.  A  red-faced  young  man  in  tight 
new  clothes  —  like  a  strait-jackfet  —  occupied  one  end 
4 


60  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

of  our  table  with  his  blushing  sweetheart.  A  band 
of  wandering  harpers  harped  upon  their  harps  to  the 
crowd  of  wrangling  men  and  blowsy  women  in  the 
open  court  below;  strangely  out  of  tune  were  the  harps, 
out  of  time  the  measure,  according  well  with  the  spirit 
of  the  hour.  A  loud-voiced  girl  decked  out  in  tawdry 
finery,  with  face  like  solid  brass,  sang  "Annie  Laurie" 
in  hard,  metallic  tones,  —  O  Music,  how  many  murders 
have  been  committed  in  thy  name !  —  then  passed  a 
cup  for  pennies,  with  many  a  jest  and  rude,  bold  laugh. 
We  were  glad  when  the  day  was  done,  —  glad  when 
we  had  turned  away  from  it  aH. 

QUEEN  Victoria's  home  at  Windsor. 

The  castle  itself  is  a  huge,  battlemented  structure  of 
gray  stone,  —  a  fortress  as  well  as  a  palace,  —  with  a 
home  park  of  five  hundred  acres,  the  private  grounds 
of  Mrs.  Guelph,  and,  beyond  that,  a  grand  park  of  eigh- 
teen hundred  acres.  But  do  not  imagine  that  she  lives 
here  with  only  her  children  and  servants  about  her, — 
this  kindly  German  widow,  whose  throne  was  once  in 
the  hearts  of  her  people.  Royalty  is  a  complicated 
affair,  —  a  wheel  within  a  wheel,  —  and  reminds  us  of 
nothing  so  much  as  "  the  house  that  Jack  built." 

This  is  the  Castle  of  Windsor. 

This  is  the  queen  that  lives  in  the  Castle  of  Windsor. 

These  are  the  ladies  that  'tend  on  the  queen  that 
lives  in  the  Castle  of  Windsor. 

These  are  the  pages  that  bow  to  the  ladies  that  'tend 
on  the  queen  that  lives  in  the  Castle  of  Windsor. 

These  are  the  lackeys  that  wait  on  the  pages  that 
bow  to  the  ladies  that  'tend  on  the  queen  that  lives  in 
the  Castle  of  Windsor. 


EXCURSIONS  FROM  LONDON.  51 

These  are  the  soldiers,  tried  and  sworn,  that  guard 
the  crown  from  the  unicorn,  that  stand  by  the  lackeys 
that  wait  on  the  pages  that  bow  to  the  ladies  that  'tend 
on  the  queen  that  lives  in  the  Castle  of  Windsor. 

These  are  the  "military  knights"  forlorn,  founded  by 
Edward  before  you  were  bom,  that  outrank  the  sol- 
diers, tried  and  sworn,  that  guard  the  crown  from  the 
unicorn,  that  stand  by  the  lackeys  that  wait  on  the 
pages  that  bow  to  the  ladies  that  'tend  on  the  queen 
that  lives  in  the  Castle  of  Windsor. 

These  are  the  knights  that  the  garter  have  worn, 
with  ai-morial  bannei*s  tattered  and  torn,  that  look 
down  on  the  military  knights  forlorn,  founded  by  Ed- 
ward before  you  were  bom,  that  outrank  the  soldiers, 
tried  and  sworn,  that  guard  the  crown  from  the  unicorn, 
that  stand  by  the  lackeys  that  wait  on  the  pages  that 
bow  to  the  ladies  that  'tend  on  the  queen  that  lives  in 
the  Castle  of  Windsor. 

This  is  the  dean,  all  shaven  and  shorn,  with  the 
canons  and  clerks  that  doze  in  the  morn,  that  install 
the  knights  that  the  garter  have  worn,  with  armorial 
banners  tattered  and  torn,  that  look  down  on  the  mili- 
tary knights  forlorn,  founded  by  Edward  before  you 
were  bom,  that  outrank  the  soldiers,  tried  and  sworn, 
that  guard  the  crown  from  the  unicorn,  that  stand  by 
the  lackeys  that  wait  on  the  pages  that  bow  to  the  la- 
dies that  'tend  on  the  queen  that  lives  in  the  Castle  of 
Windsor. 

And  so  on.  The  train  within  the  castle  walls  that 
follows  the  queen  is  endless. 

We  passed  through  the  great,  grand,  state  apart- 
ments, refurnished  at  the  time  of  the  marriage  of  the 


52  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Prince  of  Wales,  for  the  use  of  the  Danish  family. 
We  mounted  to  the  battlements  of  the  Round  Tower 
by  the  hundred  steps,  the  grim  cannon  gazing  down 
upon  us  from  the  top.  Half  a  dozen  visitors  were  al- 
ready there,  gathered  as  closely  as  possible  about  the 
angular  guide,  listening  to  his  geograjDhy  lesson,  and 
looking  off  upon  the  wonderful  panorama  of  park,  and 
wood,  and  winding  river.  Away  to  the  right  rose  the 
spire  of  Stoke  Pogis  Church,  where  the  curfew  still 
"tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day."  To  the  left,  in  the 
great  park  below,  lay  Frogmore,  where  sleeps  Prince 
Albert  the  Good.  Eton  College,  too,  peeped  out  from 
among  the  trees,  its  gardens  touching  the  Thames,  and 
in  the  distance,  —  beyond  the  sleeping  villages  tucked 
in  among  the  trees,  —  the  shadowy  blue  hills  held 
up  the  sky. 

St.  George's  Chapel  is  in  the  quadrangle  below.  It  is 
the  chapel  of  the  Knights  of  the  Garter.  And  now,  when 
you  read  of  the  chapels,  or  churches,  or  cathedrals  in  the 
old  world, — and  they  are  all  in  a  sense  alike,  —  pray 
don't  imagine  a  New  England  meeting-house  with  a 
double  row  of  stiff  pews  and  a  choir  in  the  gallery  sing- 
ing "  Antioch  " !  The  body  of  the  chapel  was  a  great, 
bare  space,  with  tablets  and  elaborate  monuments 
against  the  walls.  Opening  from  this  were  alcoves,  — 
^Iso  called  chapels,  —  each  one  containing  the  tombs  and 
monuments  of  some  family.  As  many  of  the  inscriptions 
are  dated  centuries  back,  you  can  imagine  they  are 
often  quaintly  expressed.  One  old  knight,  who  died 
in  Catholic  times,  desired  an  open  Breviary  to  remain 
always  in  the  niche  before  his  tomb,  that  passers 
might  read  to  their  comfort,  and  say  for  him  an  orison. 


EXCURSIONS  FROM  LONDON,  53 

Of  coui-se  this  would  never  do  in  the  days  when  the 
chapel  fell  into  Protestant  hands.  A  Bible  was  sub- 
stitute;], chained  into  its  place;  but  the  old  inscription, 
cut  deep  in  the  stone,  still  remains,  beginning  "  Who 
leyde  thys  book  here  ? "  with  a  startling  appropriate- 
ness of  which  the  author  never  dreamed.  Over  an- 
other of  these  chapels  is  rudely  cut  an  ox,  an  N,  and  a 
bow,  —  the  owner  having,  in  an  antic  manner,  hardly 
befitting  the  place,  thus  written  his  name  —  Oxenbow. 
You  enter  the  choir,  where  the  installations  take 
place,  by  steps,  passing  under  the  organ.  In  the 
chancel  is  a  fine  memorial  window  to  Prince  Albert. 
On  either  side  are  the  stalls  or  seats  for  the  knights, 
with  the  armorial  banner  of  each  hanging  over  his  place. 
Projecting  over  the  chancel,  upon  one  side,  is  what  ap- 
pears to  be  a  bay-window.  This  is  the  queen's  gallery, 
a  little  room  with  blue  silk  hangings,  —  for  blue  is  the 
color  worn  by  Knights  of  the  Garter,  —  where  she  sits 
during  the  service.  Through  these  curtains  she  looked 
down  upon  the  marriage  of  the  Prince  of  Wales.  Think 
of  being  thus  put  away  from  everybody,  as  though  one 
were  plague-stricken.  A  private  station  awaits  her 
when  she  steps  from  the  train  at  the  castle  gates.  A 
private  room  is  attached  to  the  green-houses,  to  the 
riding-school  in  the  park,  and  even  to  the  private 
chapel.  A  private  photograph-room,  for  the  taking  of 
the  royal  pictures,  adjoins  her  apartments.  It  must  be 
a  fine  thing  to  be  a  queen, —  and  so  tiresome!  Even 
the  gold  spoon  in  one's  mouth  could  not  offset  the  wea- 
riness of  it  all,  and  of  gold  spoons  she  has  an  unbound- 
ed supply ;  from  ten  to  fifteen  millions  of  dollars 
worth  of  gold  plate  for  her  majesty's  table  being  guard- 
ed 1  within  the  c:isllo !     Think  of  it,  little  women  who 


54  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

set  up  house-keeping  with  half  a  dozen  silver  tea- 
spoons and  a  salt-spoon ! 

We  waited  before  a  great  gate  until  the  striking  of 
some  forgotten  hour,  to  A^sit  the  royal  mews.  You 
may  walk  through  all  these  stables  in  slippers  and  in 
your  daintiest  gown,  without  fear.  A  stiff  young  man 
in  black  —  a  cross  between  an  undertaker  and  an  in- 
cipient clergyman  in  manner — acted  as  guide.  Other 
parties,  led  by  other  stiff  young  men,  followed  or 
crossed  our  path.  There  were  stalls  and  stalls,  upon 
either  side,  in  room  after  room,  —  for  one  could  not 
think  of  calling  them  stables,  —  filled  by  sleek  bays  for 
carriage  or  saddle.  And  the  ponies !  —  the  dear  little 
shaggy  browns,  with  sweeping  tails,  and  wonderful 
eyes  peeping  out  from  beneath  moppy  manes,  the  milk- 
white,  tiny  steeds,  with  hair  like  softest  silk,  —  they 
won  our  hearts.  Curled  up  on  the  back  of  one,  fast 
asleep,  lay  a  Maltese  kitten  ;  the  "  royal  mew "  some 
one  called  it.  The  carriages  were  all  plain  and  dark, 
for  the  ordinary  use  of  the  court.  In  one  comer  a  prim 
row  of  little  yellow,  wicker,  baby-wagons  attracted  our 
attention,  like  those  used  by  the  poorest  mother  in  the 
land.  In  these  the  royal  babies  have  taken  their  first 
airings. 

The  state  equipages  we  saw  another  day  at  Bucking- 
ham Palace,  —  the  cream-colored  horses,  the  carringes 
and  harnesses  all  crimson  and  gold.  There  they  stand, 
weeks  and  months  together,  waiting  for  an  occasion. 
The  effect  upon  a  fine  day,  under  favoring  auspices,  — 
the  sun  shining,  the  bands  playing,  the  crowd  of  gazers, 
the  prancing  horses,  the  gilded  chariots,  —  must  almost 
equal  the  triumphal  entry  of  a  first  class  circus  into  a 
New  England  town ! 


SIGHT-SEEING  IN  LONDON.  55 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SIGHT-SEEING  IN   LONDON. 

The  Tower.  —  The  tall  Yankee  of  inquiring  mind.  —  Our  guide 
in  gorgeous  array.  —  War  trophies.  —  Knights  in  armor.  — 
A  professional  joke.  —  The  crown  jewels.  —  The  house  where 
the  little  princes  were  smothered.  —  The  "  Traitor's  Gate." — 
The  Houses  of  Parliament.  —  What  a  throne  is  like.  —  The 
"woolsack."  —  The  Peeping  Gallery  for  ladies.  — Westminster 
Hall  and  the  law  courts.  —  The  three  drowsy  old  women.  — 
The  Great  Panjandrum  himself  —  Johnson  and  the  pump.  — 
St.  Paul's.  —  Wellington's  funeral  car. — The  Wliispering 
Gallery.  —  The  bell. 

THE    TOWER. 

IT  is  not  a  tower  at  all,  as  we  reckon  towers,  you 
must  know,  but  a  walled  town  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Thames,  in  the  very  heart  of  London.  Hundreds 
of  years  ago,  when  what  is  now  this  great  city  was  only 
moor  and  marsh,  the  Romans  built  here  —  a  castle, 
perhaps.  Only  a  bit  of  crumbling  wall,  of  mouldering 
pavement,  remain  to  tell  the  story.  When  the  Nor- 
mans came  in  to  possess  the  land,  William  the  Con- 
q[Tieror  erected  upon  this  spot  a  square  fortress,  with 
towers  rising  from  its  four  corners.  Every  succeeding 
monarch  added  a  castle,  a  tower,  a  moat,  to  strengtiien 
its  strength  and  extend  its  limits,  until,  in  time,  it  cov- 
ered twelve  acres  of  land,  as  it  does  to  this  day.    Here 


66  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

the  kings  and  queens  of  England  lived  iu  comfortless 
state,  until  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  having  need 
to  be  hedged  about  with  something  more  than  royalty 
to  insure  safety.  Times  have  changed;  swords  have 
been  beaten  into  ploughshares ;  and  where  the  moat 
once  encircled  the  tower  wall,  flowers  blossom  now. 
The  dungeons  that  for  centuries  held  prisonei*s  of  state 
do  not  confine  any  one  to-day;  and  the  strongholds 
that  guarded  the  person  of  England's  sovereign  keep 
in  safety  now  the  jewels  and  the  crown.  There  are 
round  towers,  and  square  towers,  and,  for  anything  I 
know,  three-cornered  towers,  each  with  its  own  history 
of  hon'ors.  There  are  windows  from  which  people 
were  thrown,  bridges  over  which  they  were  dragged, 
and  dark  holes  in  which  they  were  incarcerated. 

To  appreciate  all  this,  you  should  see  it — as  we  did 
one  chilly  May  morning.  We  huddled  about  the  stove 
in  the  waiting-room  upon  the  site  of  the  old  royal 
menagerie,  our  companions  a  round  man,  with  a  limp 
gingham  cravat  and  shabby  coat,  a  little  old  woman 
in  a  poke  bonnet,  and  half  a  dozen  or  more  school- 
boys from  the  country.  A  tall  Yankee  of  inquiring 
mind  joined  us  as  we  sallied  from  the  door,  led  by  a 
guide  gorgeous  in  ruff  and  buckles,  cotton  velvet  and 
gilt  lace,  and  with  all  these  glories  surmounted  by  a 
black  hat,  that  swelled  out  at  the  top  in  a  wonderful 
manner.  Down  the  narrow  street  within  the  gates, 
over  the  slippery  cobble-stones,  under  considerable 
mental  excitement,  and  our  alpaca  umbrella,  we  fol- 
lowed our  guide  to  an  archway,  before  which  he  paused, 
and  struck  an  attitude.  The  long  Yankee  darted  for- 
ward.    "  Stand  back,  my  friends,  stand  back,"  said  the 


i^v>w  Kv  Ti«.t<<\  -  •=,  a  .■ 


'A  dozen  umbrellas  wore  tipped  up;   the  ram  fell  fast  upon  a  dozen 
upturned,  expectant  faces."     Page  57. 


SIGHT-SEEING  IN  LONDON.  57 

guide.  "  You  will  please  form  a  circle."  Immediately 
a  dozen  umbrellas  surrounded  him.  He  pointed  to  a 
narrow  window  over  our  heads;  a  dozen  umbrellas 
were  tipped  up;  the  rain  fell  fast  upon  a  dozen  up- 
turned,  expectant   faces.     "In   that   room,   Sir " 

(I  could  not  catch  the  name)  "  spent  the  night  before 
his  execution,  in  solemn  meditation  and  prayer." 
There  was  a  circular  groan  of  sympathy  and  approval 
from  a  dozen  lips,  the  re-cant  of  a  dozen  dripping 
umbrellas,  and  w^e  pattered  on  to  the  next  point  of 
interest,  following  our  leader  through  pools  of  blood, 
figuratively  speaking,  —  literally,  through  pools  of  wa- 
ter, —  our  eyes  distended,  our  cheeks  pale  with  horror. 
Ah,  what  treasures  of  credulity  we  must  have  been  to 
the  guides  in  those  days !  Time  brought  unbelief  and 
hardness  of  heart. 

We  mounted  stairs  narrow  and  dark ;  we  descended 
stairs  dark  and  narrow  ;  w^e  entered  cliambers  gloomy 
and  grim.  The  half  I  could  not  tell  —  of  the  rooms 
filled  with  war  trophies  —  scalps  in  the  belt  of  the  na- 
tion—  from  the  Spanish  Armada  down  to  the  Sepoy 
rebellion ;  the  long  hall,  with  its  double  row  of  lumber- 
ing old  warriors  encased  in  steel,  as  though  they  had 
stepped  into  a  steel  tower  and  w^alked  off,  tower  and 
all,  some  fine  morning ;  the  armory,  with  its  stacked 
arms  for  thirty  thousand  men.  "  We  may  have  occa- 
sion to  use  them,"  said  the  guide,  facetiously,  making 
some  reference  to  the  speech  of  Mr.  Sumner,  just  then 
acting  the  part  of  a  stick  to  stir  up  the  British  lion. 
The  Yankee  chuckled  complacently,  and  we,  too,  re- 
fused to  quake.  There  was  a  room  filled  with  instru- 
ments of  torture,   diabolical  inventions,  recalling  the 


58  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

days  of  the  Inquisition.  The  Yankee  expressed  a  de- 
sire to  "  see  how  some  o'  them  things  worked."  Oj)en- 
ing  from  this  was  an  unlighted  apartment,  with  walls 
of  stone,  a  dungeon  indeed,  in  which  we  were  made  to 
believe  that  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  spent  twelve  yeare  of 
his  life.  No  shadow  of  doubt  would  have  fallen  upon 
our  unquestioning  minds,  had  we  been  told  that  he 
amused  himself  during  this  time  by  standing  upon  his 
head.  "  Walk  in,  walk  in,"  said  the  smiling  guide,  as 
we  peered  into  its  darkness.  We  obeyed.  "Now," 
said  he,  "  that  you  may  appreciate  his  situation,  I  will 
step  out  and  close  the  door."  The  little  old  woman 
screamed;  the  Yankee  made  one  stride  to  the  opening; 
the  guide  laughed.  It  was  only  a  professional  joke ; 
there  was  no  door.  We  saw  the  bare  prison-room, 
with  its  rough  fireplace,  the  slits  between  the  stones 
of  the  wall  to  admit  light  and  air,  and  the  initials  of 
Lady  Jane  Grey,  with  a  host  more  of  forgotten  names, 
upon  the  walls.  Just  outside,  within  the  quadrangle, 
where  the  grass  grew  green  beneath  the  summer  rain, 
she  was  beheaded,  —  poor  little  innocent, — who  had 
no  desire  to  be  a  queen  !  In  another  tower  close  by, 
guarded  by  iron  bars,  were  the  royal  jewels  and  the 
crown,  for  which  all  this  blood  was  shed  —  pretty  bau- 
bles of  gold  and  precious  stones,  but  hardly  worth  so 
many  lives. 

You  remember  the  story  of  the  princes  smothered 
in  the  Tower  by  command  of  their  cruel  uncle  ?  There 
was  the  narrow  passage  in  the  wall  where  the  murder- 
ers came  at  night ;  the  worn  step  by  which  they  entered 
the  great,  bare  room  where  the  little  victims  slept; 
the    winding    stairs    down   which    the    bodies    were 


SIGHT-SEEING  IN  LONDON.  59 

thrown.  Beneath  the  great  stone  at  the  foot  they  were 
secretly  buried.  Then  the  stairway  was  walled  up, 
lest  the  stones  should  cry  out;  and  no  one  knew 
the  story  of  the  burial  until  long,  long  afterwards 
—  only  a  few  years  since  —  when  the  walled-up 
stairway  was  discovered,  the  stones  at  the  foot  dis- 
placed, and  a  heap  of  dust,  of  little  crumbling  bones, 
revealed  it.  A  rosy-faced,  motherly  woman,  the  wife 
of  a  soldier  quartered  in  the  barracks  here,  answered 
the  rap  of  the  guide  upon  the  nail-studded  door  open- 
ing from  one  of  the  courts,  and  told  us  the  old  story. 
"The  bed  of  the  princes  stood  just  there,"  she  said, 
pointing  to  one  corner,  where,  by  a  curious  coincidence, 
a  little  bed  was  standing  now.  She  answered  the  ques- 
tion in  our  eyes  with,  "My  boys  sleep  there."  But  do 
you  not  fear  that  the  murderers  will  come  back  some 
night  by  this  same  winding  way,  and  smother  them  ?  " 
How  she  laughed  !  And,  indeed,  what  had  ghosts  to  do 
with  such  a  cheery  body ! 

Down  through  the  "  Traitors'  Gate,"  with  its  spiked 
portcullis,  we  could  see  the  steps  leading  to  the  water. 
Through  •  this  gate  prisoners  were  brought  from  trial 
at  Westminster.  It  is  said  that  the  Princess  Elizabeth 
was  dragged  up  here  when  she  refused  to  come  of  her 
own  will,  knowing  too  well  that  they  who  entered  here 
left  hope  behind.  A  little  later,  with  music  and  the 
waving  of  banners,  and  amid  the  shouts  of  the  people, 
she  rode  out  of  the  great  gates  into  the  city,  the  Queen  of 
England. 

THE    HOUSES    OF    PARLIAMENT. 

Though  they  have  stood  barely  thirty  years,  already 
the  soft  gi'ay  limestone  begins  to  crumble  away, — the 


60  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

elements,  with  a  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,  striving 
to  act  the  part  of  time,  and  bring  them  into  a  likeness 
of  the  adjoining  abbey.  There  is  an  exquisite  beauty 
in  the  thousand  gilded  points  and  pinnacles  that  pierce 
the  fog,  or  shine  softly  through  the  mist  that  veils  the 
city.  Ethereal,  shadowy,  unreal  they  are,  like  the  spires 
of  a  celestial  city,  or  the  far  away  towers  and  turrets 
we  see  sometimes  at  sunset  in  the  western  sky. 

Here,  you  know,  are  the  chambers  of  the  Houses  of 
Lords  and  Commons,  with  the  atten<lant  lobbies,  libra- 
ries, committee-rooms,  &c.,  and  a  withdrawing-room  for 
the  use  of  the  queen  when  she  is  graciously  pleased  to 
open  Parliament  in  person.  The  speaker  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  as  well  as  sonjc  other  officials,  reside  here  —  a 
novel  idea  to  us,  who  could  hardly  imagine  the  sf)eaker 
of  our  House  of  Representatives  taking  up  his  abode 
in  the  Capitol !  Parliament  was  not  in  session,  and  we 
walked  through  the  various  rooms  at  will,  even  to  the 
robing-room  of  the  noble  lords,  where  the  peg  upon 
which  Lord  Stanley  hangs  his  hat  was  pointed  out ; 
and  very  like  other  pegs  it  was.  At  one  end  of  the 
chamber  of  the  House  of  Lords  is  the  throne.  It  is  a 
simple  affair  enough  —  a  gilded  arm-chair  on  a  little 
platform  reached  by  two  or  three  steps,  and  with  crim- 
son hangings.  Extending  down  on  either  side  are  the 
crimson-cushioned  seats  without  desks.  In  the  centre 
is  a  large  square  ottoman,  —  the  woolsack,  —  which 
might,  with  equal  appropriateness,  be  called  almost 
anything  else.  Above,  a  narrow  gallery  offers  a  loun- 
ging-place  to  the  sons  and  friends  of  the  peers ;  and 
at  one  end,  above  the  throne,  is  a  high  loft,  a  kind  of 
uplifted  amen  corner,  for  strangers,  with  a  space  where 


SIGHT-SEEING  IN  LONDON.  61 

women  may  sit  and  look  down  through  a  screen  of  lat- 
tice-work upon  the  proceedings  below.  It  seems  a  rem- 
nant of  Eastern  customs,  strangely  out  of  place  in  this 
Western  world,  and  akin  to  the  shrouding  of  ourselves 
in  veils,  like  our  Oriental  sisters.  Or  can  it  be  that  the 
noble  lords  are  more  keenly  sensitive  to  the  distracting 
influence  of  bright  eyes  than  other  men  ? 

WESTMINSTER    HALL   AND    THE    LAW    COURTS. 

Adjoining  the  Houses  of  Parliament  is  this  vast  old 
hall.  For  almost  five  hundred  years  has  it  stood,  its 
curiously  carved  roof  unsupported  by  column  or  pillar. 
Here  royal  banquets,  as  well  as  Parliaments,  have  been 
held,  and  more  than  one  court  of  justice.  Here  was 
the  great  trial  of  Warren  Hastings.  It  was  empty 
now  of  everything  but  echoes  and  the  long  line  of 
statuary  on  either  side,  except  the  lawyers  in  their 
long,  black  gowns,  who  hastened  up  and  down  its 
length,  or  darted  in  and  out  the  three  baize  doors  upon 
one  side,  opening  into  the  Courts  of  Chancery,  Common 
Pleas,  and  the  Exchequer.  Our  national  curiosity  was 
aroused,  and  we  mounted  the  steps  to  the  second, 
which  had  won  our  sympathies  from  its  democratic 
name. 

There  were  high,  straight-backed  pews  of  familiar 
appearance,  rising  one  above  the  other,  into  the  last  of 
which  we  climbed,  a  certain  Sunday  solemnity  stealing 
over  us,  a  certain  awkward  consciousness  that  we  were 
the  observed  of  all  observers,  since  we  were  the  only 
spectators  —  a  delusion  of  our  vanity,  however.  In  the 
high  gallery  before  us,  in  complacent  comfort,  sat  three 
fat,  drowsy  old  women  (?)  in  white,  curling  wigs,  and 


62  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

voluminous  gowns,  asking  all  manner  of  distracting 
questions,  and  requiring  to  be  told  over  and  over  again, 
—  after  the  manner  of  drowsy  old  women,  —  to  the  ut- 
ter confusion  of  a  poor  witness  in  the  front  pew,  who 
clung  to  the  rail  and  swayed  about  hopelessly,  while 
he  tried  to  tell  his  story,  as  if  by  this  rotary  motion  he 
could  churn  his  ideas  into  form.  Not  only  did  he  lose 
the  thread  of  his  discourse,  —  he  became  hopelessly  en- 
tangled in  it.  Scratch,  scratch,  scratch,  went  the  pens 
all  around  him.  Every  word,  as  it  fell  from  his  lips, 
was  pounced  upon  by  the  begowned,  bewigged,  be- 
wildering judges,  was  twisted  and  turned  by  the  law- 
yers, was  tossed  back  and  forth  throughout  the  court- 
room, until  there  arose  a  question  in  our  minds,  as  to 
who  was  telling  the  story.  All  the  while  the  lawyers 
were  glaring  upon  him  as  though  he  was  perjuring 
himself  with  every  word  —  as  who  would  not  be,  under 
the  circumstances  ?  And  such  lawyers  !  They  dotted 
the  pews  all  around  us.  The  long,  black  gowns  were  not 
so  bad  ;  they  hid  a  deal  of  awkwardness,  I  doubt  not. 
But  the  wigs!  the  queer  little  curly  things,  perched 
upon  every  head,  and  worn  with  such  a  perverse  de- 
light in  misfits!  the  small  men  being  invariably  hid- 
den beneath  the  big  wigs,  and  the  large  men  strutting 
about  like  the  great  Panjandrum  himself  with  the 
little  round  button  at  the  top !  The  appearance  of  one, 
whose  head,  through  some  uncommon  development, 
rose  to  a  ridge-pole  behind,  was  surprising,  to  say  the 
least.  It  was  not  alone  that  his  wig  was  too  small,  that 
a  fringe  of  straight,  black  hair  fell  below  its  entire 
white  circumference ;  it  was  not  alone  that  it  was  parted 
upon  the  wrong  side,  or  that,  being  mansard  in  form, 


SIGHTSEEING  IN  LONDON.     .  63 

and  his  head  hip-roofed,  it  could  never,  by  any  process, 
have  been  shaped  thereto  ;  but  I  doubt  if  the  wearing 
of  it  upside  down,  added  to  all  these  little  drawbacks, 
could  conduce  to  the  beauty  or  dignity  of  any  man. 
Unmindful  of  this  reversed  order  of  nature,  its  happy 
possessor  skipped  about  the  court-room,  nodding  to  his 
brethren  with  a  blithesome  air,  to  the  imminent  peril 
of  his  top-knot,  which  sustained  about  the  same  rela- 
tion to  his  head  as  the  sword  to  that  of  Damocles.  He 
speered  down  upon  the  poor  witness.  He  pi-etended 
to  make  notes  of  dreadful  import  with  a  screaming 
quill,  and,  in  fact,  comported  himself  with  an  airy 
unconsciousness  delightful  to  see. 

In  regard  to  the  proceedings  of  the  court,  I  only 
know  that  the  point  under  discussion  concerned  one 
Johnson,  and  a  pump ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  judge  sat 
upon  the  bench.  Whether  he  was  originally  round, 
red-faced,  with  gooseberry  eyes,  I  do  not  remember; 
but  all  these  pleasing  characteristics  he  possessed  at 
this  present  time,  as  well  as  a  pudgy  forefinger,  with 
which  to  point  his  remarks. 

"You  say,"  he  repeated,  with  a  solemnity  of  which 
my  pen  is  incapable,  and  impressing  every  word  upon 
the  poor  man  in  the  front  pew  with  this  same  forefin- 
ger, "  that  —  Bunsen  —  went  —  to  —  the  —  pump  ?  " 

"Jolmson,  my  lord,"  the  witness  ventured  to  cor- 
rect him,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  It  makes  no  difference,"  responded  the  judge,  irate, 
"  whether  it  is  Bunsen  or  Jillson.  The  question  is, 
Did  — Jillson  —  go  —  to  —  the  —  pump  ?  " 

Whom  the  gods  destroy  they  first  deprive  of  their 
five  senses.     Four,  at  least,  of  the  poor  man's  had  de- 


64  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

parted  some  time  since.  The  fifth  followed.  "  John- 
son went,  my  lord,"  he  replied,  doggedly.  Having 
found  one  point  upon  which  his  mind  was  clear,  he 
clung  to  it  with  the  tenacity  of  despair. 

'*  Johnson  !  who's  Johnson  f  "  gasped  the  bewildered 
judge,  over  whose  face  a  net  of  peiplexed  lines  spread 
itself  upon  the  introduction  of  this  new  character.  In 
the  confusion  of  denials  and  explanations  that  followed, 
we  descended  from  our  perch,  and  stole  away ;  nor  are 
we  at  all  sure,  to  this  day,  as  to  whether  Johnson  did 
or  did  not  really  go  to  the  pump. 

ST.  Paul's. 

Imagine  our  sui-prise,  one  day,  when  admiring  a 
pretty  ribbon  upon  a  friend,  to  be  told  that  it  came 
from  St.  Paul's  Churchyard.  Hardly  the  place  for  rib- 
bons, one  would  think ;  but  the  narrow  street  which 
encircles  the  cathedral  in  the  fomi  of  a  bow  and  its 
string  goes  by  this  name,  and  contains,  besides  the 
bookstores  and  publishing  houses,  some  fine  "silk 
mercers' "  establishments. 

The  gray  surface  of  the  grand  edifice  is  streaked 
with  black,  as  though  time  had  beaten  it  with  stripes, 
and  a  pall  of  smoke  and  dust  covers  the  statues  in  the 
court  before  it.  Consecrated  ground  this  is,  indeed. 
From  the  earliest  times  of  the  Christian  religion, 
through  all  the  bigotry  and  fanaticism  of  the  ages  that 
•followed,  down  to  the  present  time,  the  word  of  God 
has  been  proclaimed  here  —  in  weakness  often,  in  bit- 
terness many  times  that  belied  the  spirit  of  its  mes- 
sage ;  by  a  priesthood  more  corrupt  than  the  people ; 
by  noble  men,  beyond  the  age  in  which  they  lived,  and 


SIGHT-SEEING  IN  LONDON.  65 

whom  the  flames  of  martyrdom  could  not  appall.  Un- 
der Diocletian  the  first  church  was  destroyed.  It  was 
rebuilt,  and  destroyed  again  by  the  Saxons.  Twice 
has  it  been  levelled  to  the  ground  by  fire.  But  neither 
sword  nor  flame  could  subdue  it,  and  firm  as  a  rock  it 
stands  to-day,  as  it  has  stood  for  nearly  two  hundred 
years,  and  as  it  seems  likely  to  stand  for  ages  to  come. 
The  sacred  stillness  that  invests  the  place  was  rudely 
broken,  the  morning  of  our  visit,  by  the  blows  from  the 
hammers  of  the  workmen,  resounding  through  the  dome 
like  a  discharge  of  artillery.  A  great  stage,  and  seats 
in  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre,  were  being  erected  in 
the  nave  for  a  children's  festival,  which  prevented  our 
doing  more  than  glance  down  its  length.  We  read 
some  of  the  inscnptions  upon  the  monuments,  that  one, 
so  often  quoted,  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  among  them 
-r-  "  Do  you  seek  his  monument  ?  Look  around  you  ; " 
glanced  into  the  choir,  with  its  Gothic  stalls,  where  the 
service  is  performed,  and  then  descended  into  the  crypt 
beneath  all  this,  that  labyrinth  of  damp  darkness 
where  so  many  lie  entombed.  Here  is  the  funeral  car 
of  Wellington,  with  candles  burning  around  it,  cast 
from  .the  conquering  cannon  which  thundered  victo- 
ry to  a  nation,  but  sorrow  and  death  to  many  a  home. 
Shrouded  with  velvet  it  is,  as  are  the  horses,  in  imi- 
tation of  those  which  bore  him  to  his  rest.  All 
around  were  marble  effigies,  blackened,  broken,  as  they 
survived  the  burning  of  the  late  cathedral,  at  the  time 
of  the  great  fire.  Tombstones  formed  the  pavement. 
"  Whose  can  this  be  ?  "  I  said,  trying  to  follow  with  the 
point  of  my  umbrella  the  half-worn  inscription  beneath 
my  feet.  It  was  that  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  Strange 
4 


66  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

enough  it  seemed  to  us,  coming  from  a  country  so 
new  as  to  have  been  by  no  means  prolific  in  great 
men,  to  find  them  here  lying  about  under  our  feet. 

Having  explored  the  crypt,  we  prepared  to  mount 
the  endless  winding  stairs,  whose  final  termination  is 
the  ball  under  the  cross  that  surmounts  the  whole. 
Our  ambition  aimed  only  at  the  bell  beneath  the 
ball.  We  paid  an  occasional  sixpence  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  peeping  into  the  hbrary,  —  a  most  tidy  and 
put-to-rights  room,  Avith  a  floor  of  wood  patchwork, 
—  and  for  the  right  to  look  down  upon  the  geo- 
metrical staircase  which  winds  around  and  clings  to 
the  wall  uj^on  one  side,  but  is  without  any  visible  sup- 
port upon  the  other.  The  "  w^hispering  gallery  "  was 
reached  after  a  time.  It  is  the  encircling  cornice  with- 
in the  dome,  surrounded  by  a  railing,  and  forming  a 
narrow  gallery.  "  I  w^ill  remain  here,"  said  the  guide, 
"  while  you  pass  around  until  you  are  exactly  opposite ; 
wait  there  until  I  whisper."  Had  we  possessed  the 
spirit  of  Casablanca,  we  should  at  this  moment  be  sit- 
ting upon  that  narrow  bench  against  the  wall,  wdth  our 
feet  upon  the  gas-pipes.  We  waited  and  listened,  and 
listened  and  waited ;  but  the  sound  of  the  blows  from 
the  hammers  below  reverberated  like  thunder  around 
us.  We  could  not  have  heard  the  crack  of  doom.  Be- 
coming conscious,  after  a  time,  that  our  guide  had  dis- 
appeared, we  came  out  and  continued  our  ascent.  Mrs. 
K.'s  curiosity,  if  not  satisfied,  was  at  least  quenched, 
and  she  refused  to  go  farther.  My  aspirations  still 
pointed  upward.  There  was  another  sixpence,  another 
dizzy  mount  of  dark,  twisting  stairs,  wdth  strength, 
ambition,  and  even  curiosity  gradually  left  behind,  and 


SIGHT-SEEING  IN  LONDON.  67 

with  only  one  blind  instinct  remaining  —  to  go  on. 
There  was  a  long,  dingy  passage,  through  which  ghost- 
ly forms  were  flitting;  there  were  more  staire,  with 
twists  and  turns,  forgotten  now  with  other  tomients ; 
there  was  the  mounting  of  half  a  dozen  rickety  wood- 
en steps  at  last,  for  no  object  but  to  descend  shakily 
upon  the  other  side,  and  then  we  found  ourselves  in  a 
little  dark  corner,  peering  over  a  dingy  rail,  with  a 
gi'eat,  dusky  object  filling  all  the  space  below.  And 
that  was  the  bell!  "Well,  and  what  of  it?"  I  don't 
know ;  but  we  saw  it ! 


68  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 


CHAPTER  V. 


AWAY    TO   PAKIS. 


The  wedding  party.  -^  The  canals.  —  New  Haven.  —  Around  the 
tea-table.  —  Separating  the  sheep  from  the  goats.  —  "  Will  it 
be  a  rough  passage?  "  —  Gymnastic  feats  of  the  little  steamer. 
—  O,  what  were  oflBcers  to  us  ?  —  "  Who  ever  invented  ear- 
rings ! "  —  Dieppe.  —  Fish-wives.  —  Train  for  Paris.  —  Fellow- 
passengers.  —  Kouen.  —  Babel.  —  Deliverance. 

IT  was  the  last  week  in  May,  and  by  no  means  the 
"  merry,  merry  month  of  May  "  had  we  found  it. 
Not  only  was  the  sky  weighed  down  with  clouds,  but 
they  dripped  upon  the  earth  continually,  the  sun  show- 
ing his  ghastly,  white,  half-drowned  face  for  a  moment 
only  to  be  swept  from  sight  again  by  the  cloud  waves. 
A  friend  was  going  to  Paris.  Would  we  shake  the 
drops  from  our  garments,  close  our  umbrellas,  and  go 
with  him?  We  not  only  would,  we  did.  We  gath- 
ered a  lunch,  packed  our  trunk,  said  our  adieus,  and 
drove  down  to  the  station  in  the  usual  pouring  rain, 
the  tearful  accompaniment  to  all  our  movements.  But 
one  party  besides  our  own  awaited  the  train  upon  the 
platform  —  a  young  man  with  the  insignia  of  bliss  in 
the  gloves  of  startling  whiteness  upon  his  hands,  and  a 
middle-aged  woman  of  seraphic  expression  of  counte- 
nance, clad  in  robes  of  spotless  white,  her  feet  encased 


A  WAT  TO  PARIS.  69 

in  capacious  white  slippers.  In  this  airy  costume,  one 
hand  grasping  a  huge  bouquet  devoid  of  color,  the  other 
the  arm  of  her  companion,  she  paced  back  and  forth,  to 
the  great  amusement  of  the  laughing  porters,  casting 
upon  us  less  fortunate  ones,  who  shivered  meekly  in 
our  wraps,  glances  of  triumphant  pity  indescribable. 

"  Weddin'  party,  zur,"  explained  the  guard,  touching 
his  cap  to  our  friend.  "  Jus'  come  down  in  fly."  They 
looked  to  us  a  good  deal  more  as  if  they  were  just  go- 
ing up  in  a  "  fly."  The  train  shrieked  into  the  station, 
and  we  were  soon  rushing  over  the  road  to  New  Ha- 
ven, from  which,  in  an  evil  moment,  we  had  planned 
to  cross  the  Channel.  There  was  little  new  or  strange  in 
the  picture  seen  from  our  window.  The  cottages  were 
now  of  a  dull,  clay  color,  instead  of  the  dingy  red  we 
had  observed  before,  as  though  they  had  been  erected  in 
sudden  need,  without  waiting  for  the  burning  of  the 
bricks.  There  were  brick-yards  all  along  the  way,  an- 
swering a  vexed  question  in  my  mind  as  to  where  all 
the  bricks  came  from  which  were  used  so  entirely  in 
town  and  village  here,  in  the  absence  of  the  wood  so 
plentiful  with  us.  The  canals  added  much  to  the 
beauty  of  the  landscape,  winding  through  the  meadows 
as  if  they  were  going  to  no  particular  place,  and  were 
in  no  haste  to  reach  their  destination.  They  turned 
aside  for  a  clump  of  willows  or  a  mound  of  daisy- 
crowned  earth ;  they  went  quite  out  of  their  way  to 
peep  into  the  back  doors  of  a  village,  and,  in  fact,  strolled 
along  in  a  lazy,  serpentine  manner  that  would  have 
crazed  the  proprietor  of  a  Yankee  canal  boat. 

It  was  five  o'clock  when  we  reached  New  Haven, 
having  dropped  our  fellow-passengers  along  the  way, 


70  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

the  blissful  couple  among  them.  Through  some  error 
in  calculation  we  had  taken  an  earlier  train  than  we 
need  have,  and  found  hours  of  doleful  leisure  awaiting 
us  in  this  sleepy  little  town,  lying  upon  an  arm  of  the 
sea.  Its  outer  appearance  was  not  inviting.  Here 
were  the  first  and  last  houses  of  wood  we  saw  in 
England,  —  high,  ugly  things,  that  might  have  been 
built  of  old  boats  or  drift  wood,  with  an  economy  that 
precluded  all  thought  of  grace  in  architecture.  The 
train,  in  a  gracious  spirit  of  accommodation,  instead  of 
plunging  into  the  sea,  as  it  might  have  done,  paused 
before  the  door  of  a  hotel  upon  the  wharf.  There,  in  a 
little  parlor,  we  improvised  a  home  for  a  time.  Our 
friend  went  off  to  explore  the  town.  We  took  posses- 
sion of  the  faded  red  arai-chairs  by  the  wide  windows. 
Down  below,  beyond  the  wet  platfonn,  rose  the  well- 
colored  meerschaum  of  the  little  French  steamer,  whose 
long-boats  hung  just  above  the  edge  of  the  wharf. 
Through  the  closed  window  stole  the  breath  of  the  salt 
sea,  that,  only  a  hand-breadth  liere,  widened  out  below 
into  boundlessness,  bringing  visions  of  the  ocean  and  a 
thrill  of  remembered  delight.  The  rain  had  ceased. 
The  breeze  rolled  the  clouds  into  snow-balls,  pure  white 
against  the  blue  of  the  sky.  Over  the  narrow  stream 
came  the  twitter  of  birds,  hidden  in  the  hawthorn 
hedge  all  abloom.  Everything  smiled,  and  beamed, 
and  glistened  without,  though  far  out  to  sea  the  white 
caps  crowned  the  dancing  waves.  When  night  fell, 
and  the  lights  glimmered  all  through  the  town,  we 
drew  the  heavy  curtains,  lighted  the  candles  in  the  shin- 
ing candlesticks,  whose  light  cast  a  delusive  glow  over 
the  dingy  dustiness  of  the  room,  bringing  out  cheer- 


AWAT  TO  PARIS.  71 

ftilly  the  little  round  tea-table  in  the  centre,  with  its 
bright  silver  and  steaming  urn,  over  which  we  lingered 
a  long  hour,  measuring  and  weighing  our  comfoit,  tell- 
ing tales,  seeing  visions,  and  dreaming  dreams  of 
home. 

The  clock  struck  nine  as  we  crossed  the  plank  to 
the  Alexandra,  trying  in  vain  to  find  in  its  toy  appoint- 
ments some  likeness  to  our  ocean  steamer  of  delightful 
memory.  The  train  whizzed  in  from  London,  bringing 
our  fellow-voyagers.  The  sheep  were  separated  from 
the  goats  by  the  officer  at  the  foot  of  the  plank,  who 
asked  each  one  descending,  "  First  or  second  cabin  ? " 
—  sending  one  to  the  right,  the  other  to  the  left.  The 
wind  swept  in  from  the  sea  raw  and  cold.  The  foot- 
square  deck  was  cheerless  and  wet.  Even  a  diagonal 
promenade  proved  short  and  unsatisfactory,  and  in  de- 
spair we  descended  the  slippery,  perj^endieular  stairs 
between  boxes  and  bales,  and  down  still  another  flight, 
to  the  cabin.  A  narrow,  cushioned  seat  clung  to  its  four 
sides,  divided  into  lengths  for  berths.  "  Will  it  be  a 
rough  night  ? "  we  carelessly  asked  the  young  stew- 
ardess. "  O,  no ! "  was  the  stereotyped  reply,  though 
all  the  while  the  wicked  waves  were  dancing  beneath 
the  white  caps  just  outside.  We  divested  ourselves  of 
hats,  and  wraps,  and  useless  ornaments,  reserving  only 
that  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which,  under  a  name- 
less fear,  grew  every  moment  meeker  and  more  quiet. 
We  undid  the  interminable  buttons  of  our  American 
boots,  and  prepared  for  a  comfortable  rest,  with  an  ig- 
norance that  at  the  time  approximated  bliss.  There 
was  leisure  for  the  working  out  of  elaborate  schemes. 
Something  possessed  the  tide.     Whether  it  was  high 


72  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

01*  low,  narrow  or  wicle,  I  do  not  know ;  but  there  at 
the  wharf  we  were  to  await  the  working  of  its  own 
will,  regardless  of  time.  Accordingly  we  selected  our 
places  with  a  deliberation  that  bore  no  proportion  to 
the  time  we  were  to  fill  them,  advising  with  the  stew- 
ardess, who  had  settled  herself  comfortably  to  sleep. 
We  tiied  our  heads  to  England  and  our  feet  to  the  foe, 
and  then  reversed  the  order,  finally  compromising  by 
taking  a  position  across  the  Channel.  But  the  loading 
of  the  steamer  overhead,  with  the  chattering  of  our  fel- 
low-passengers below,  —  two  English  girls,  a  pretty 
brunette  and  her  sister,  —  banished  sleep.  At  three 
o'clock  our  voyage  began  —  the  succession  of  quivering 
leaps,  plunges,  and  somersaults  which  miraculously 
landed  us  upon  the  French  coast.  I  can  think  of  no 
words  to  describe  it.  The  first  night  upon  the  ocean 
was  paradise  and  the  perfection  of  peace  in  compaiison. 
To  tliis  day  the  thought  of  the  swashing  water,  beat- 
en white  against  the  port-hole  before  my  eyes,  is 
sickening.  A  calm  —  to  me,  of  utter  prostration  — 
fell  upon  us  long  after  the  day  dawned,  only  to  be 
broken  by  the  stewardess,  when  sleep  had  brought  par- 
tial forgetfulness,  with,  "It's  nine  o'clock;  we're  at 
Dieppe,  and  the  officers  want  to  come  in  here."  We 
tried  to  raise  our  heads.  Officers !  What  officers  ? 
Had  we  crossed  the  Styx?  Were  they  of  light 
or  darkness  ?  We  sank  back.  O,  what  were  officers 
to  us! 

"But  you  must  get  up  !  "  —  and  she  began  an  awk- 
ward attempt  at  the  buttons  of  those  horrible  boots. 
That  recalled  to  life.  American  boots  are  of  this  world, 
and  we  made  a  feeble  attempt  to  don  some  of  its  van- 


A  WAT  TO  PARIS.  73 

ities.  O,  how  senseless  did  the  cuffs  appear  that  went 
on  upside  down !  —  the  collar  which  was  fastened  under 
one  ear!  —  the  ribbons  that  were  consigned  to  our 
pockets!  Making  blind  stabs  at  our  ears,  "Good 
heavens ! "  we  ejaculated,  "  who  ever  invented  ear- 
rings ?  -Relics  of  barbarism ! "  We  made  hasty  thrusts 
at  the  hair-pins,  standmg  out  from  our  heads  in  every 
direction  like  enraged  porcupine  quills;  being  pulled, 
and  twisted,  and  scolded  by  the  stewardess  all  the  while; 
hearing  the  thump,  thump,  upon  our  door  as  one  pair 
of  knuckles  after  another  awoke  the  echoes,  as  one 
strange  voice,  after  another  shouted,  "Why  don't 
those  ladies  come  out  ?  "  O  the  trembling  fingers  that 
refused  to  hold  the  pins !  —  the  trembling  feet  that 
staggered  up  the  ladder-like  stairs  as  we  were  thrust 
out  of  the  cabin  —  out  of  the  cruel  little  steamer  to 
take  refuge  in  one  of  the  waiting  cabs !  O  the  blessed- 
ness of  our  thick  veils  and  charitable  wraps  ! 

I  recall,  as  though  it  were  a  dream,  the  narrow, 
roughly-paved  street  of  Dieppe;  a  latticed  window 
filled  with  flowers,  and  a  dark-eyed  maiden  peeping 
through  the  leaves;  the  fish- wives  in  short  petticoats 
and  with  high  white  caps,  clattering  over  the  stones  in 
their  wooden  sabots^  wheeling  baiTOws  of  fish  to  the 
market  near  the  station,  where  they  bartered,  and  bar- 
gained, and  gossiped.  Evidently  it  is  a  woman's  right 
in  Normandy  to  work  —  to  grow  as  withered,  and  hard, 
and  old  before  the  time  as  she  chooses,  or  as  she  has 
need ;  for  to  put  away  year  after  year,  as  do  these  poor 
women,  eveiy  grace  and  charm  of  womanhood,  cannot 
be  of  choice. 

At  the  long  table  in  the  refreshment-room  of  the  sta- 


74  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

tion  we  drank  the  tasteless  tea,  and  ate  a  slice  from  the 
roll  four  feet  in  length.  The  English-speaking  girl  who 
attended  us  found  a  place — rough  enough,  to  be  sure — 
where  in  the  few  moments  of  waiting  we  could  complete 
our  hasty  toilets.  Beside  us  at  the  table,  our  fellow- 
voyagers,  were  two  professors  from  a  Connecticut  col- 
lege of  familiar  name,  whom  we  had  met  in  London. 
They  joined  us  in  the  comfortable  railway  carriage,  and 
added  not  a  little  to  the  pleasant  chat  that  shortened 
the  long  day  and  the  weary  journey  to  Paris.  Our 
number — for  the  compartment  held  eight  —  was  com- 
pleted by  a  young  Ameri(;an  gentleman,  and  a  French- 
man of  evil  countenance,  who  drank  wine  and  made 
love  to  his  pretty  Lizette  in  an  unblushing  manner, 
strange,  and  by  no  means  pleasing,  to  us,  demonstrating 
the  annoyance,  if  nothing  worse,  to  which  one  is  often 
subjected  in  these  compartment  cars.  It  needed  but  one 
glance  from  the  window  to  convince  us  that  we  were  no 
longer  in  England.  To  be  sure,  the  sky  is  blue,  the 
grass  green,  in  all  lands;  but  in  place  of  the  level 
sweep  of  meadow  through  which  we  had  passed  across 
the  Channel,  the  land  swelled  here  into  hills  on  every 
side.  Long  rows  of  stiff  poplars  divided  the  fields, 
or  stretched  away  in  straight  avenues  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  The  English  remember  the  beauty 
of  a  curved  line ;  the  French,  with  a  painful  rectitude, 
describe  only  right  angles.  Scarlet  poppies  blushed 
among  the  purple,  yellow,  and  white  wild  flowers  along 
the  way.  The  plastered  cottages  with  their  high, 
thatched  roofs,  the  tortuous  River  Seine  with  its  green 
islands,  as  we  neared  Paris,  the  neat  little  stations  along 
the  way  —  like  gingerbread  houses  —  made  for  us  a  new 


AWAT  TO  PARIS.  75 

and  charming  panorama.  Hanging  over  a  gate  at  one 
of  these  stations  was  an  old  man,  white-haired,  blind ; 
his  guide,  an  old  woman,  who  waited,  with  a  kind  of 
wondering  awe  stealing  over  her  withered  face,  while 
he  played  some  simple  air  upon  a  little  pipe  —  thus  ask- 
ing alms.  So  simple  was  the  air,  the  very  shadow  of 
a  melody,  that  the  scene  might  have  been  amusing,  had 
it  not  been  so  pitiful. 

At  noon  we  lunched  in  the  comfortless  waiting-room 
at  Rouen,  while  the  professors  made  a  hasty  visit  to 
the  cathedral  during  our  stay  of  half  an  hour.  We  still 
suffered  from  the  tossing  of  the  sea,  and  cathedrals  pos- 
sessed no  charms  in  our  eyes.  It  was  almost  night 
when  we  reached  Paris,  and  joined  the  hurrying  crowd 
descending  from  the  train.  It  was  a  descent  into  Pan- 
demonium. There  was  a  confusion  of  unintelligible 
sounds  in  our  ears  like  the  roll  of  a  watchman's  rattle, 
bringing  no  suggestion  of  meaning.  The  calmness  of 
despair  fell  upon  our  crushed  spirits,  with  a  sense  of 
powerlessness  such  as  we  never  expeiienced  before  or 
since.  A  dim  recollection  of  school-days  —  of  Ollen- 
dorff—  rose  above  the  chaos  in  our  minds.  "Has  the 
physician  of  the  shoemaker  the  canary  of  the  carpen- 
ter?" we  repeated  mechanically;  and  with  that  our 
minds  became  a  blank. 

Deliverance  awaited  us ;  and  when,  just  outside  thB 
closed  gates,  first  in  the  expectant  crowd,  we  espied 
the  face  of  a  friend,  peace  enveloped  us  like  a  garment. 
Ouriiroubles  were  over. 


76  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   PAEIS   OF    1869. 

The  devil.  —  Cathedrals  and  churches.  —  The  Louvre.  — Mod- 
ern French  art.  —  The  Beauvais  clock,  with  its  droll  little 
puppets.  —  Virtue  in  a  red  gown.  — The  Luxembourg  Palace. 
—  The  yawning  statue  of  Marshal  Ney.  —  Gay  life  by  gas- 
light. —  The  Imperial  Circus.  —  The  Opera.  —  How  the 
emperor  and  empress  rode  through  the  streets  after  the 
riots.  —  The  beautiful  Spanish  woman  whose  face  was  her 
fortune.  —  Napoleon's  tomb. 

IT  may  be  the  City  of  Destruction,  the  very  gate- 
way to  depths  unknown ;  but  with  its  fair,  white 
dwellings,  its  fair,  white  streets,  that  gleamed  almost 
like  gold  beneath  a  summer  sun,  it  seemed  much  more 
a  City  Celestial.  It  may  be,  as  some  affirm,  that  the 
devil  here  walks  abroad  at  midday ;  but  we  saw  neither 
the  print  of  his  hoofs  upon  the  asphaltum,  nor  the 
shadow  of  his  horns  upon  the  cream-like  Caen  stone. 
We  walked,  and  rode,  and  dwelt  a  time  within  its 
limits ;  and  but  for  a  certain  reckless  gayety  that  gave 
to  the  Sabbath  an  air  of  Vanity  Fair,  but  for  the 
mallet  of  the  workman  that  disturbed  our  Sunday 
worship,  we  should  never  have  known  that  we  were 
not  in  the  most  Christian  of  all  Christian  cities.  It  is 
by  no  means  imperative  to  do  in  Rome  as  the  Ro- 


THE  PARIS   OF  1869.  77 

mans  do,  and  one  need  not  in  Paris  drink  absinthe  or 
visit  the  Jardin  Mabille. 

Our  first  expedition  was  to  the  banker's  and  to  the 
shops,  and  having  rejjlenished  our  purse  and  ward- 
robe, we  were  prepared  to  besiege  the  city.  There  was 
a  day  or  two  of  rest  in  the  gilded  chairs,  cushioned 
with  blue  satin,  of  our  pretty  salon^  whence  we  peeped 
down  upon  the  street  below  between  the  yellow 
satin  curtains  that  draped  its  wide  French  window; 
or  rolled  our  eyes  meditatively  to  the  delicately  tinted 
ceiling,  with  its  rose-colored  clouds  skimmed  by  tiny, 
impossible  birds ;  or  made  abortive  attempts  to  pen- 
etrate the  secrets  of  the  buhl  cabinets,  and  to  guess 
at  the  time  from  the  pretty  clocks  of  disordered  or- 
ganism; or  admired  ourselves  in  the  mirrors  which 
gazed  at  each  other  from  morning  till  night,  for  our 
apartments  in  the  little  Hotel  Friedland  we  found 
most  charming. 

You  will  hardly  care  for  a  description  of  the  dozen, 
more  or  less,  churches,  old,  new,  and  restored,  with 
which  we  began  and  ended  our  sight-seeing  in  Paris, 
where  we  looked  upon  sculptured  saints  without  num- 
ber, and  studied  ecclesiastical  architecture  to  more 
than  our  hearts'  content.  There  was  St.  Germain 
L'Auxerrois,  the  wicked  old  bell  of  which  tolled  the 
signal  for  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.  We 
stood  with  the  bonnes  and  babies  under  the  trees  of 
the  square  before  it,  gazing  up  at  the  belfry  Avith  most 
severe  countenances,  —  and  learned,  afterwards,  thr.t 
the  bell  had  been  long  since  removed!  There  was 
the  Madeleine  of  more  recent^  date,  built  in  the  form  of 
a  Greek  temple,  and  interesting  just  now  for  having 


78  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

been  the  church  of  Father  Hyacinthe,  to  which  we 
could  for  a  time  find  no  entrance.  We  shook  the  iron 
gate;  we  inquired  in  excellent  English  of  a  French 
shopkeeper,  and  found  at  last,  an  open  gateway,  a 
little  unlocked  door,  beyond  which  we  spent  a  time 
of  search  and  inquiry  in  darkness,  and  among  wood, 
and  shavings,  and  broken  chairs,  and  holy  dust-pans, 
before  passing  around  and  entering  the  great  bronze 
doors.  There  were  the  Pantheon  and  St.  Sulpice, 
grand  and  beautiful,  erected  piously  fi'om  the  proceeds 
of  lotteries.  There  was  St.  Etienne  du  Mont,  and 
within  one  of  its  chapels  the  gilded  tomb  of  the  patron 
saint  of  Paris  —  St.  Genevieve.  Who  she  wns,  or 
what  she  did  to  gain  this  rather  unenviable  position,  I 
failed  to  learn.  Her  name  seems  to  have  outlived  her 
deeds.  Whether  she  was  beautiful  and  beloved,  and 
put  away  earthly  vanities  for  a  holy  life,  or  old  and 
ugly,  and  bore  her  lot  with  a  patience  that  won  saint- 
ship,  I  do  not  know.  I  can  only  tell  that  tapers  bum 
always  upon  her  tomb,  and  if  you  buy  one  it  will  burn 
a  prayer  for  you.  So  we  were  told.  There  is  one  old 
church,  St.  Germain  des  Pies,  most  beautifully  colored 
within.  Its  pictures  seem  to  have  melted  upon  the 
walls.  But  admired  above  all  is  the  Sainte  Chapelle, 
in  the  Palais  de  Justice,  a  chapel  fitted  up  by  the  fa- 
natical St.  Louis,  when  this  palace  of  justice,  which 
holds  now  the  courts  of  law,  was  a  royal  residence. 
Of  course  all  its  brightness  was  dimmed  long  ago.  Its 
glories  became  dust,  like  its  founder.  But  it  has  re- 
cently been  restored,  and  is  a  marvel  of  gilt,  well- 
blended  colors,  and  stained  glass.  A  graceful  spire 
surmounts  it,  but  the  old,  cone-cnpped  towers,  rising 


THE  PARIS  OF  1869.  79 

from  another  part  of  the  same  building,  possessed  far 
greater  interest  in  our  eyes ;  for  here  was  the  Concier- 
gerie,  where  were  confined  Marie  Antoinette  and  so 
many  more  victims  of  the  reign  of  teiTor.   . 

On  the  "  isle  of  the  city,"  in  the  Seine,  where,  under 
the  Roman  rule,  a  few  mud  huts  constituted  Paris, 
stands  the  church  of  Notre  Dame,  which  was  three  hun- 
dred years  in  building.  With  its  spire  and  two  square 
towers,  it  may  be  seen  from  almost  any  part  of  the 
city.  I  wish  you  might  look  upon  the  relics  and  the 
vestments  which  the  priests  wear  upon  occasions  of 
ceremony,  hidden  within  this  church,  and  displayed 
upon  the  payment  of  an  extra  fee.  I  did  not  wonder 
that  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  who  went  into  the  little 
room  with  us,  gazed  aghast  upon  the  gold  and  silver, 
and  precious  stones. 

Every  one  visits  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre,  of 
course.  A  little,  worn  shoe,  belonging  once  to  Marie 
Antoinette,  and  the  old  gray  coat  of  the  first  emperor, 
were  to  us  the  most  interesting  objects  among  the 
relics.  From  out  the  sea  of  pictures  rise  Murillo's 
Madonna,  the  lovely  face  with  a  soul  behind  it,  shining 
through,  and  the  burial  of  the  heroine  of  Chateau- 
briand. Do  you  know  it  ?  The  fair  form,  the  sweeping 
hair  of  Attila,  and  the  dark  lover  with  despair  in  his 
face?  As  for  the  Rubens  gallery,  —  his  fat,  red,  un- 
draped  women  here  among  the  clouds,  surrounded  by 
puffy  little  cherubs,  had  for  us  no  charms.  Rubens  in 
Antwerp  was  a  revelation.  We  wandered  through  room 
after  room,  lighted  from  above,  crowded  with  paintings. 
To  live  for  a  time  among  them  would  be  a  delight; 
to  glance  at  them  for  a  moment  was  tantalization.    All 


80  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

around  were  the  easels  of  the  artists  who  come  here 
to  sketch  —  sharp-featured,  heavy-browed  men,  with 
unkempt  hair  and  flowmg  beards,  and  in  shabby  coats, 
stood  before  them,  pallet  and  brushes  in  hand;  and 
women  by  the  score,  —  some  of  them  young  and  pleas- 
ing, with  duennas  patiently  waiting  near  by ;  but  more 
often  they  were  neither  young  nor  beautiful,  and  with 
an  evident  renunciation  of  pomps  and  vanities.  We 
glanced  at  their  copies  curiously.  Sometimes  they 
seemed  the  original  in  miniature,  and  sometimes,  —  ah 
well,  we  all  fail. 

We  looked  in  upon  the  annual  exhibition  of  pictures 
at  the  Palais  de  I'lndustrie  one  day,  and  were  particu- 
larly impressed  with  the  nudite  of  the  modern  school 
of  French  art.  Pink-tinted  flesh  may  be  very  beautiful, 
but  there  must  be  something  higher !  We  saw  there, 
too,  another  day,  the  clock  on  exhibition  for  a  time  be- 
fore being  consigned  to  its  destined  place  at  Beauvais. 
It  was  even  more  wonderful  than  the  one  so  famous 
at  Strasbourg.  This  was  of  the  size  of  an  ordinary 
church  organ,  and  of  similar  shape;  a  mass  of  gilt 
and  chocolate-colored  wood ;  a  mass  of  dials,  great  and 
small  —  of  time  tables,  and,  indeed,  of  tables  for  com- 
puting everything  earthly  and  heavenly,  with  dials  to 
show  the  time  in  fifty  different  places,  and  everything 
else  that  could,  by  any  possible  connection  with  time, 
be  supposed  to  belong  to  a  clock.  Upon  the  top, 
Christ,  seated  in  an  ai-m-chair,  was  represented  as 
judging  the  world,  his  feet  upon  the  clouds ;  on  either 
side  kneeling  female  figures  adored  him.  Just  below, 
a  pair  of  scales  bided  their  time.  On  every  peak 
stood  little  images,  whi^e  fifty  puppets  peeped  out  of 


THE  PARIS   OF  1869.  81 

fifty  windows.  Just  below  the  image  of  the  Saviour, 
a  figure  emerged  through  an  open  door  at  the  striking 
of  every  quarter  of  an  hour,  —  coming  out  with  a  slide 
and  occasional  jerk  by  no  means  graceful.  We  had  an 
opportunity  of  observing  all  this  in  the  three  quarters 
of  an  hour  of  waiting.  We  viewed  the  clock  upon 
every  side,  being  especially  interested  in  a  picture  at 
one  point  representing  a  rocky  coast,  a  light-house,  and 
a  long  stretch  of  waves  upon  which  labored  two  ships 
attached  in  some  way  to  the  works  within.  They 
pitched  back  and  forth  without  making  any  progress 
whatever,  in  a  way  very  suggestive  to  us,  who  had 
lately  suflered  fi-om  a  similar  motion.  A  dozen  priests 
seated  themselves  with  us  upon  the  bench  before  the 
clock  as  the  hand  approached  the  hour.  They  wore 
the  long  black  robes  and  odd  little  skull-caps,  that  fit 
so  like  a  plaster,  and  which  are,  I  am  sure,  kept  in 
place  by  some  law  of  attraction  unknown  to  us.  One, 
of  a  different  order,  or  higher  grade,  in  a  shorter  robe 
and  with  very  thin  legs,  encased  in  black  stockings 
that  added  to  their  shadowy  appearance,  shuffled  up 
to  his  place  just  in  time  to  throw  back  his  head  and 
open  his  mouth  as  the  clock  struck,  and  the  last  judg- 
ment began.  The  cock  upon  the  front  gave  a  prelim- 
inai-y  and  weak  flap  of  his  wings,  and  emitted  three 
feeble,  squeaky  crows,  that  must,  I  am  sure,  have  con- 
vulsed the  very  puppets.  Certainly  they  all  disap- 
peared from  the  windows,  and  something  jumped  into 
their  places  intended  to  represent  flames,  but  which 
looked  so  much  like  reversed  tin  petticoats,  that  we 
supposed  for  a  moment  they  were  all  standing  on 
their  heads.  All  the  figures  upon  the  peaks  turned 
6 


82  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

their  backs  upon  us.  The  image  of  Christ  began  to 
wave  its  hands.  The  kneeling  women  swayed  back 
and  forth,  clasping  their  own.  Two  angels  raised  to 
their  lips  long,  gilt  trumpets,  as  if  to  blow  a  blast; 
then  dropped  them ;  then  raised  them  a  second  time, 
and  eve'n  made  a  third  abortive  attempt.  From  one 
of  the  open  doors  Virtue  was  jerked  out  to  be  judged^ 
Virtue  in  a  red  gown.  The  scales  began  to  dance  up 
and  down.  An  angel  appeared  playing  a  guitar,  and 
Virtue  went  triumphantly  off  to  the  right,  to  slow  and 
appropriate  music,  an  invisible  organ  playing  mean- 
while. Then  Vice  appeared.  I  confess  he  excited  my 
instant  and  profound  pity.  Such  a  poor,  naked, 
wretched-looking  object  as  he  was!  with  his  hands 
to  his  face,  as  though  he  were  heartly  ashamed  to  come 
out  in  such  a  plight.  I  venture  to  say,  if  he  had  been 
decked  out  like  Virtue,  he  might  have  stolen  off  to  the 
right,  and  nobody  been  the  wiser.  Good  clothes  do  a 
great  deal  in  Paris.  As  it  was,  the  scales  danced  up 
and  down  a  moment,  and  then  the  devil  appeared  with 
a  sharp  stick,  and  drove  him  around  the  comer  to  the 
left,  with  very  distant  and  feeble  thunder  for  an  ac- 
companiment. That  ended  the  show.  All  the  little 
puppets  jumped  back  into  all  the  little  windows,  and 
we  came  away. 

Speaking  of  picture  galleries,  we  spent  a  pleasant 
hour  in  the  gallery  of  the  Luxembourg  —  a  collection 
of  paintings  made  up  from  the  works  of  living  artists, 
and  of  those  who  have  been  less  than  a  year  deceased. 
It  is  sufficiently  small  to  be  enjoyable.  There  is  some- 
thing positively  oppressive  in  the  vastness  of  many  of 
these  galleries.    You  feel  utterly  unequal  to  them ;  as 


THE  PARIS   OF  1869.  83 

though  the  finite  were  about  to  attempt  the  compre- 
hension of  the  infinite.  One  picture  here,  by  Ary 
Scheffer,  was  exhibited  in  America,  a  few  years  since. 
It  is  the  head  and  bust  of  a  dead  youth  in  armor  — 
a  youth  with  a  girlish  face.  There  are  others  by 
Henri  Schefler,  Paulin  Guerin,  and  a  host  more  I 
will  not  name.  One,  a  scene  in  ^he  Conciergerie, 
"Reading  the  List  of  the  Condemned  to  the  Pris- 
oners," by  Muller,  haunted  me  long  after  the  doors 
had  swung  together  behind  us.  The  palace  of  the 
Luxembourg,  small,  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  its 
architecture  and  charming  garden,  built  for  that  grace- 
less regent,  Marie  de  Medici,  is  now  the  residence  of 
the  president  of  the  Senate;  and  indeed  the  Senate 
itself  meets  here.  We  were  shown  through  the  rooms 
open  to  the  public,  the  private  apartments  of  Marie  de 
Medici  among  them,  in  one  of  which  was  a  bust 
of  the  regent.  The  garden,  like  all  gardens,  is  filled 
with  trees  and  shrubs,  flowers  and  fountains,  but  yet 
with  a  certain  charm  of  its  own.  The  festooning  of 
vines  from  point  to  point  was  a  novelty  to  us,  as  was 
the  design  of  one  of  the  fountains.  Approaching  it  from 
the  rear,  we  thought  it  a  tomb, -r  perhaps  the  tomb 
of  Marshal  Ney,  we  said,  whose  statue  we  were  seek- 
ing. It  proved  to  be  an  artificial  grotto,  and  within  it, 
sprinkled  with  the  spray  of  the  fountain,  embowered 
in  a  mass  of  glistening,  green  ivy,  reclined  a  pair  of 
pretty,  marble  lovers;  peering  in  upon  them  fi'om 
above,  scowled  a  dreadful  ogre  —  a  horrible  giant. 
The  whole  effect,  coming  upon  it  unexpectedly,  was 
startling. 

We  had  a  tiresome  search  for  this  same  statue  of 


84  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Marshal  Ney.  We  chased  every  marble  nymph  in  the 
garden,  and  walked  and  walked,  over  burning  pebbles 
and  under  a  scorching  sun,  until  we  almost  wished  he 
had  never  been  shot.  At  last,  away  beyond  the  gar- 
*den,  out  upon  a  long  avenue,  longer  and  hotter  if  pos- 
sible than  the  garden  paths,  we  found  it,  —  erected 
upon  the  very  spot  where  he  was  executed.  He 
stands  with  arm  outstretched,  and  mouth  opened  wide, 
as  though  he  were  yawning  with  the  wearisoraeness 
of  it  all.  It  is  a  pity  that  he  should  give  way  to  his 
feelings  so  soon,  since  he  must  stand  there  for  hun- 
dreds of  years  to  come.  The  guide-books  say  he  is 
represented  in  the  act  of  encouraging  his  men.  They 
must  have  been  easily  encouraged. 

Of  the  out-door  gay  life  by  gas-light,  we  saw  less 
than  we  had  hoped  to  see  in  the  French  capital.  The  sea- 
son was  unusually  cold  and  wet,  and  most  of  the  time  it 
would  have  required  the  spirit  of  a  martyr  to  sip  coffee 
upon  the  sidewalk.  One  garden  concert  we  did  attend, 
and  found  it  very  bright  and  fairy-like,  and  all  the  other 
adjectives  used  in  this  connection.  We  sat  wrapped 
in  shawls,  our  feet  upon  the  rounds  of  the  chair  before 
us,  and  shivered  a  little,  and  enjoyed  a  great  deal. 
We  went  one  night — in  most  orthodox  company  — 
to  the  Cirque  de  ITmperatrice,  a  royal  amphitheatre 
with  handsome  horses,  pretty  equestriennes,  and  a 
child  balanced  and  tossed  about  on  horseback,  showing 
a  fi-ightened,  painful  smile,  which  made  of  the  man  who 
held  her  a  Herod  in  our  eyes.  A  girl  very  rich  in 
paint  and  powder,  but  somewhat  destitute  in  other 
particulars,  skipped  and  danced  upon  a  slack  rope  in 
a  most  joyous  and  airy  manner.   When  we  came  out,  a 


THE  PARIS   OF  1869.  85 

haggard  woman,  with  an  old,  worn  face,  was  crouching 
in  a  little  weary  heap  by  the  door  that  led  into  the  sta- 
bles, wrapped  in  an  old  cloak ;  and  that  was  our  dancing 
girl! 

We  went  to  the  opera,  too ;  it  was  Les  Huguenots. 
To  this  day  I  cannot  tell  who  were  the  singers.  I 
never  knew,  or  thought,  or  cared.  And  the  bare  shoul- 
ders flashing  with  jewels  in  the  boxes  around  us,  the 
claqueurs  in  the  centre,  hired  to  applaud,  clapping  their 
hands  with  the  regularity  of  clock-work,  the  empty 
imperial  box,  were  nothing  to  the  sight  of  Paris 
portrayed  within  itself  You  know  the  familiar  opera ; 
do  think  how  strange  it  was  to  see  it  in  Paris ;  to 
look  upon  the  stage  and  behold  the  Seine  and  the  towers 
of  Notre  Dame;  the  excited  populace  rising  up  to 
slay  and  to  be  slain,  with  all  the  while  this  same  fickle 
French  people  serenely  smiling,  and  chatting,  and  look- 
ing upon  it  —  the  people  who  were  even  then  ready  at  a 
word  to  reenact  the  same  scenes  for  a  different  cause. 
Just  outside,  only  a  day  or  two  before,  something  of 
the  same  spirit,  portrayed  here  for  our  amusement, 
had  broken  out  again  in  the  election  riots.  And  we  re- 
membered that,  as  we  drove  around  the  corner  to  the 
opera  house,  mounted  soldiers  stood  upon  either  side, 
while  every  other  man  upon  the  street  was  the  eye,  and 
ear,  and  arm  of  the  emperor,  who  knew  that  the  very 
gi'ound  beneath  his  fair,  white  city  tottered  and  reeled. 

We  saw  the  emperor  and  empress  one  day,  after 
having  looked  for  them  long  and  in  vain  upon  the 
Champs  Elysees,  and  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  where 
gay  Paris  disports  itself  It  was  the  morning  after  the 
riot,  when  they  drove  unattended,  you  will  remember, 


86  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

through  the  streets  where  the  rioters  had  gathered. 
We  were  in  one  of  the  shops  upon  the  Rue  de  Rivoli. 
Just  across  the  way  rose  the  Tuileries  from  the  side- 
walk. A  crowd  began  to  collect  about  the  open  arch- 
way through  the  palace,  which  affords  entrance  and 
egress  to  the  great  square  around  which  the  palace  is 
built.  "What  is  -it?"  we  asked  of  the  voluble 
Frenchman  who  was  gradually  persuading  us  that 
brass  was  gold.  "  L'Empereur,"  he  replied ;  which  sent 
us  to  the  sidewalk,  and  put  from  our  minds  all  thoughts 
of  oxidized  silver  and  copper-colored  gold.  Just  with- 
in the  arch  paced  a  lackey  in  livery  of  scarlet  and  gold, 
wearing  a  powdered  wig  and  general  air  of  importance. 
On  either  side,  the  sentries  froze  into  position.  The 
gendarmes  shouted  and  gesticulated,  clearing  the 
streets.  A  mounted  attendant  emerged  from  the  arch- 
way ;  there  followed  four  bay  horses  attached  to  a  plain, 
dark,  open  can-iage ;  upon  the  front  seat  were  two  gen- 
tlemen, upon  the  back,  a  gentleman  with  a  lady  by  his 
side.  His  hair  was  iron  gray,  almost  silvery.  He 
turned  liis  face  from  us  as  he  raised  his  hat  gravely  to 
the  crowd,  displaying  a  very  perceptible  bald  spot  upon 
the  back  of  his  head  as  he  was  whizzed  around  the  cor- 
ner and  down  the  street.  And  that  was  Napoleon 
III.  We  saw  no  American  lady  in  Paris  dressed  so 
simply  as  the  empress.  Something  of  black  lace  draped 
her  shoulders ;  a  white  straw  bonnet,  trimmed  with  black, 
with  a  few  pink  roses  resting  upon  her  hair,  crowned  her 
head.  She  bowed  low  to  the  right  and  left,  with  a  pe- 
culiar, graceful  motion,  and  a  smile  upon  the  face  a  little 
worn  and  pale,  a  little  faded,  —  but  yet  the  face  we  all 
know  so  well.     Beautiful  Spanish  woman,  whose  face 


THE  PARIS  OF  1869.  87 

was  your  fortune,  though  you  smiled  that  day  upon  the 
people,  your  cheeks  were  pale,  your  eyes  were  full  of 
tears. 

There  is  nothing  more  wonderful  in  Paris  than  the 
tomb  prepared  to  receive  the  remains  of  the  first  Na- 
poleon, in  the  chapel  of  the  Hotel  des  Invalides ;  fitting, 
it  would  seem  to  be,  that  he  should  rest  here  among  his 
old  soldiers.  We  left  the  carriage  at  the  gateway,  and 
crossed  the  open  court,  mounted  the  wide  steps,  fol- 
lowed the  half  dozen  other  parties  through  the  open 
doors,  and  this  was  what  we  saw.  At  the  farther  end 
of  the  great  chapel  or  church,  an  altar,  approached  by 
wide,  marble  steps ;  gilt  and  candles  embellished  it,  and 
a  large,  gilt  cross  upon  it  bore  an  image  of  the  crucified 
Lord.  All  this  was  not  unlike  what  we  had  seen  many 
times.  But  four  immense  twisted  columns  rose  from 
its  four  comers  —  columns  of  Egyj^tian  marble,  writh- 
ing like  spotted  serpents.  They  supported  a  canopy 
of  gold,  and  the  play  of  lights  upon  this,  through  the 
stained  windows  above  and  on  either  side,  was  indescrib- 
able. As  we  entered  the  door,  darkness  enveloped  it, 
save  where  an  invisible  sun  seemed  to  touch  the  roof 
of  gold  and  rest  lightly  upon  the  pillars ;  an  invisible 
sun,  indeed,  for,  without,  the  sky  was  heavy  with 
clouds.  As  we  advanced,  this  unearthly  light  touched 
new  points — the  gilded  candlesticks,  the  dying  Saviour, 
but  above  all  the  writhings  of  these  monster  ser- 
pents, until  the  whole  seemed  a  thing  of  life,  a  some- 
thing which  grew  and  expanded  every  moment,  and  was 
almost  fearful  to  look  upon.  Filling  the  centre  of  the 
chapel  was  a  circular  marble  wall  breast-high.  Do  you 
remember,  in  going  to  the   old  Senate  chamber  at 


88  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Washington,  after  passing  through  the  rotunda,  the 
great  marble  well-curb  down  which  you  could  look  into 
the  room  below  ?  This  was  like  that,  only  more  vast. 
Over  it  leaned  a  hundred  people,  at  least,  gazing  down 
upon  what  ?  A  circular,  roofless  room,  a  crypt  to  hold 
a  tomb ;  each  pillar  around  its  circumference  was  the 
colossal  figm-e  of  a  woman ;  between  these  hung  the 
tattered  tri-colors  borne  in  many  a  fierce  conflict,  be- 
.neath  the  burning  suns  of  Egypt  and  over  the  dreary 
snows  of  Russia,  with  seventy  colors  captm'ed  from  the 
enemies  of  France.  A  wreath  of  laurel  in  the  mosaic 
floor  surrounded  the  names  Austerlitz,  Marengo,  Fried- 
land,  Jena,  Wagram,  Moscow,  and  Pyramids,  and  in  the 
centre  rose  the  sarcophagus  of  Finland  granite,  pre- 
pared to  hold  the  body  of  him  whose  ambition  knew  no 
bounds.  The  letter  N  upon  one  polished  side  was  the 
only  inscription  it  bore.  He  who  wrote  his  name  in 
blood  needed  no  epitaph.  The  entrance  to  this  crypt  is 
through  bronze  doors,  behind  the  altar,  and  gained  by 
passing  under  it.  On  either  side  stood  a  colossal  figure 
in  bronze ;  kings  they  seemed  to  be,  giant  kings,  in  long 
black  robes  and  with  crowns  of  black  upon  their  heads. 
One  held,  uj^on  the  black  cushion  in  his  hands, 
a  crown  of  gold  and  a  golden  sword;  the  other, 
a  globe  crowned  with  a  cross  and  a  golden  sceptre. 
They  were  so  grand,  and  dark,  and  still,  they 
gazed  upon  us  so  fixedly  from  out  their  great,  grave 
eyes,  that  I  felt  a  chill  in  all  my  bones.  They  guard 
his  tomb.  They  hold  his  sword  and  sceptre  while 
he  sleeps.  I  almost  expected  the  gi'eat  doors  to 
swing  open  at  the  touch  of  his  hand,  and  to  see  him 
come  forth.    Over  these  doors  were  his  own  words: 


THE  PARIS   OF  1869.  89 

"  I  desire  that  my  ashes  may  repose  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Seine,  in  the  midst  of  the  French  people  I  have 
loved  so  well."  On  either  side,  as  we  came  out,  we  read 
upon  the  tombs  the  names  of  Bertrand  and  Duroc,  — 
faithful  in  death !  We  wondered  idly  whose  remains 
were  guarded  in  the  simple  tomb  near  the  door.  It  was 
surrounded  by  an  iron  railing,  and  bore  no  inscription. 
Who  can  it  be,  we  said,  that  is  nameless  here  among 
the  brave?  Little  did  we  imagine  at  the  time  that 
here  rested  the  body  of  the  great  Napoleon,  as  it  was 
brought  from  St.  Helena ;  but  his  spirit  seemed  to  per- 
vade the  very  atmosphere,  and  we  came  out  into  the 
gloom  of  the  day  as  though  we  had,  indeed,  come  from 
the  presence  of  the  dead. 


90  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SIGHTS   IN   THE   BEAUTIFUL   CITY. 

The  Gobelin  tapestry.  —  How  and  where  it  is  made.  —  Pere  la- 
Chaise.  —  Poor  Eachel !  —  The  baby  establishment.  —  "  Now 
I  lay  me."  —  The  little  mother.  —  The  old  woman  who  lived 
in  a  shoe.  —  The  American  chapel.  —  Beautiful  women  and 
children.  —  The  last  conference-meeting.  —  "  I'm  a  proof- 
reader, I  am." 

BY  no  means  least  among  the  places  of  interest  in 
Paris  is  the  manufactory  of  the  Gobelin  tapestry 
which  serves  to  adorn  the  walls  of  the  palace  salons. 
O,  these  long,  tiresome  salons^  which  must  be  visited, 
though  your  head  is  ready  to  burst  with  seeing, 
your  feet  to  drop  off  with  sliding  and  shpping  over 
the  polished  floors.  The  wicked  stand  upon  slippery 
places,  and  nothing  so  convinced  us  of  the  demoral- 
izing effect  of  foreign  travel  as  our  growing  ability 
to  do  the  same.  When  you  have  seen  one  or 
two,  you  have  seen  all.  There  may  be  degrees  in 
gorgeous  splendor,  but  we  were  filled  with  all  the 
appropriate  and  now-forgotten  emotions  at  sight  of 
the  first,  and  one  cannot  be  more  than  full.  Many  of 
the  old  palace  apartments  are  dull  and  dingy  beyond 
belief,  by  no  means  the  marble  halls  of  our  dreams ; 
but  of  the  others  let  me  say  something  once  for  all. 


SIGHTS  IN  THE    BEAUTIFUL    CITT.        91 

Under  your  feet  is  the  treacherous,  bare  floor  of  dark 
wood,  laid  in  diamonds,  squares,  &c. ;  over  your  head, 
exquisite  frescoes  of  gods  and  goddesses,  and  all  man- 
ner of  unearthly  and  impossible  beings  enveloped  in 
clouds  by  the  bale,  —  usually  an  apotheosis  of  some 
king  or  queen,  or  both,  and,  as  a  rule,  of  the  most 
wicked  known  nt  that  time.  The  Medici  were  es- 
pecially glorified  and  raised  above  the  flesh,  —  and 
they  had  need  to  be.  On  every  side  pictures  in  Gobelin 
tapestry,  framed  into  the  walls,  often  so  large  as  to 
cover  the  entire  space  from  corner  to  corner,  from  cor- 
nice to  within  a  few  feet  of  the  floor,  and  in  this  latter 
space  doors,  formed  of  a  panel  sometimes,  for  the  en- 
trance and  egress  of  servants.  Imagine,  with  all  this, 
the  gilt,  and  stucco,  and  wood-carving  ;  the  flowers, 
and  arabesques,  and  entwined  initials;  the  massive 
chandeliers,  with  glittering  pendants ;  the  mantels  of 
rare  marbles,  of  porphyry,  and  malachite;  the  cabinets, 
and  tables,  and  escritoires  of  marqueterie  and  mosaic ; 
the  gilded  chairs,  stifl"  and  stark,  richly  covered ;  the 
bronzes,  vases,  and  curious  clocks:  and  over  all  the 
air  of  having  never  been  used  from  all  time,  and  of 
continuing  to  be  a  bare  show  to  all  eternity,  —  and  you 
have  a  faint  conception  of  the  salons  of  half  the 
palaces. 

As  for  the  tapestry,  pray  don't  confound  it  with  the 
worsted  dogs  and  Rebekahs-at-the-Well  with  which  we 
sometimes  adorn  (?)  our  homes,  since  one  would  never 
in  any  way  suggest  the  other.  In  these  every  delicate 
line  is  faithfully  reproduced,  and  the  effect  exactly  that 
of  an  oil  painting.  After  long  years  the  colors  fade ; 
and  we  were  startled  sometimes,  in  the  old  palaces,  to 


92  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

come  upon  one  of  these  gray  shadows  of  pictures,  out 
from  which,  perhaps,  a  pair  of  wonderful  eyes  alone 
would  seem  to  shine.  In  old  times  the  rough  walls 
of  the  grim  prison  palaces  were  hung  with  tapestry 
wrought  by  the  fair  fingers  of  court  ladies,  the  designs 
of  tournament  and  battle  being  rudely  sketched  by  gay 
gallants.  Many  a  bright  dream  was  worked  into  the 
canvas,  I  doubt  not,  never  found  upon  the  pattern ; 
many  a  sweet  word  said  over  the  task  that  beguiled 
the  dull  hours,  and  kept  from  mischief  idle  hands. 
But  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  the  art  of  weaving 
tapestry  was  brought  from  Flanders,  and  a  manufac- 
tory established  on  the  outskirts  of  Paris  which  still 
remains.  To  visit  it  a  pass  is  required.  Accordingly 
we  addressed  a  note  of  solicitation  to  some  high  official, 
and  in  due  time  came  a  permit  for  Madame  K.  and 
family;  and  an  ill-assorted  family  we  must  have  ap- 
peared to  the  official  at  the  gate.  There  were  the 
rooms,  hung  with  specimens  of  the  tapestry,  for  which 
we  did  not  care,  and  then  the  six  devoted  to  the  weav- 
ing ;  long,  low,  and  narrow  they  were,  with  hand-looms 
ranged  down  one  side.  Through  the  threads  of  the 
warp  we  could  see  the  weavers  sitting  behind  their 
work,  each  with  his  box  of  worsteds  and  pattern  be- 
side him.  The  colors  were  wound  upon  quills,  num- 
bers of  which  hung,  each  by  its  thread,  from  the  half- 
completed  work.  Taking  one  of  these  in  one  hand, 
the  workman  dexterously  separated  the  threads  of  the 
warp  with  the  other,  and  passed  the  quill  through, 
pressing  down  the  one  stitch  thus  formed  with  its 
pointed  end.  You  can  imagine  how  slow  this  work 
must  be.     How  tiresome  a  task  it  is  to  delight  the  eyes 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  BEAUTIFUL   CITY.        98 

of  princes !  The  making  of  carpets,  which  has  been 
recently  added,  is  equally  tiresome.  This,  too,  is  hand 
work,  they  being  woven  in  some  way  over  a  round 
stick,  and  then  cut  and  trimmed  with  a  j^air  of  shears. 
To  make  one  requires  from  five  to  ten  years,  and  their 
cost  is  from  six  to  twenty  thousand  dollars.  About  six 
hundred  weavers  are  said  to  be  here,  though  we  saw 
but  a  small  proportion  of  that  number.  They  receive 
only  from  three  to  five  hundred  dollars  a  year,  with  a 
pension  of  about  half  as  much  if  they  are  disabled. 

From  the  Gobelins  we  drove  across  the  Seine  again,, 
and  out  to  Pere  la-Chaise,  where  stood  once  the  house  of 
the  confessor  of  Louis  XIV.,  from  whom  the  cemetery 
takes  its  name,  the  Jesuit  priest  through  whose  influ- 
ence the  edict  of  Nantes  was  revoked.  A  kind  of 
ghastly  imitation  of  life  it  all  seemed  —  the  narrow 
houses  on  either  side  of  the  paved  streets,  that  were  not 
houses  at  all,  hung  with  dead  flowers  and  corpse-like 
wreaths,  stained  an  unnatural  hue.  We  peered  through 
the  bars  of  the  locked  gate  opening  into  the  Jews' 
quarter,  trying  to  distinguish  the  tomb  where  lie  the 
ashes  of  a  life  that  blazed,  and  burned  itself  out.  Poor 
Rachel !  Through  the  solemn  streets,  among  the  quiet 
dwellings  of  the  noiseless  city,  whence  comes  no  sound 
of  joy  or  grief,  where  they  need  no  candle,  neither 
light  of  the  sun,  we  walked  a  while,  then  plucked  a 
leaf  or  two,  and  came  away. 

One  day,  when  the  sun  lay  hot  upon  the  white 
streets  of  the  beautiful  city,  we  searched  among  the 
shops  of  the  crooked  Faubourg  St.  Honore  for  a  num- 
ber forgotten  now,  and  the  Creche,  where  the  working 
mothers  may  leave  their  children  during  the  day.    In 


94  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

another  and  more  quiet  street  we  found  it.  We  pulled 
the  bell  before  a  massive  gateway;  the  wide  doors 
opened  upon  a  smiling  portress,  who  led  the  way 
across  the  paved  court  to  the  house,  where  she  pointed 
up  some  stairs,  and  left  us  to  mount  and  turn  until 
it  was  no  longer  possible,  until  a  confusion  of  doors 
barred  our  way,  when  we  rapped  upon  one.  Another 
was  opened,  and  we  found  ourselves  among  the  babies. 
There  were,  perhaps,  twenty  in  all,  the  larger  children 
being  in  the  school-room  below;  but  even  twenty 
toddling,  rolling  babies,  looking  so  very  like  the  same 
image  done  in  putty  over  and  over  again,  appears  an 
alarming  and  unlimited  number  when  taken  in  a  body. 
They  rolled  beneath  our  feet,  they  clung  to  our  skirts, 
they  peeped  out,  finger  in  mouth,  from  behind  the 
doors,  they  kicked  pink  toes  up  from  the  swinging 
cradles,  and  in  fact,  like  the  clansmen  of  Rhoderic  Dhu, 
appeared  in  a  most  startUng  manner  from  the  most 
unexpected  places.  Plump  little  things  they  were, 
encased  in  shells  of  blue-checked  aprons,  from  the  outer 
one  of  which  they  were  surreptitiously  slipped  upon 
our  entrance  to  disclose  a  fresher  one  beneath.  How 
long  this  process  could  have  continued  with  a  similar 
happy  result,  we  did  not  inquire.  Every  head  was  tied 
up  in  a  tight  little  night-cap,  giving  them  the  appear- 
ance of  so  many  little  bag  puddings.  Every  face  was 
a  marvel  of  health  and  contentment,  with  one  kicking, 
screaming  exception  u^^on  the  floor.  "Eengleesh,"  ex- 
plained the  Sister  of  Charity  who  seemed  to  have  them 
in  charge,  giving  a  sweeping  wipe  to  the  eyes,  nose, 
and  mouth,  gradually  liquidizing,  of  this  one,  and  trying 
in  vain  to  pacify  a  nature  that  seemed  peaceless.    Who 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  BEAUTIFUL    CITT.        95 

was  its  mother,  or  how  the  little  stranger  chanced  to 
be  here,  we  did  not  learn.  On  either  side  of  the  long, 
narrow  room  hung  the  white-curtained  cradles,  each 
with  its  pretty,  pink  quilt.  At  one  end  was  an  altar, 
most  modest  in  its  appointments,  consisting  of  hardly 
more  than  a  crucifix  and  a  vase  of  flowers  upon  the 
mantel.  As  we  entered  the  room,  the  sister  stood  be- 
fore it  with  a  circle  of  white  caps  and  blue  checked 
aprons  around  her,  a  circle  of  little  clasped  hands,  of 
upturned  eyes  and  lisping  lips,  repeating  what  might 
have  been,  "  Now  I  lay  me,"  for  anything  we  knew. 
Our  entrance  brought  wandering  eyes  and  thoughts. 

At  the  opposite  end  of  the  room,  a  wide,  long  win- 
dow swung  open,  revealing  a  pleasant  garden  down 
below,  all  green  and  blossoming,  with  an  image  of  the 
Virgin  half  hid  among  the  vines.  Cool,  and  fresh,  and 
green  it  seemed  after  the  glare  of  the  hot  streets,  a 
pleasant  picture  for  the  baby  eyes.  Out  from  this 
window  the  little  feet  could  trot  upon  the  guarded  roof 
of  a  piazza.  A  little  chair,  a  broken  doll,  and  limbless 
horse  here  were  familiar  objects  to  the  eyes  of  the 
mothers  in  our  party,  and  when  two  children  seized 
upon  one  block  with  a  determination  which  threatened 
a  breach  of  the  peace,  we  were  convinced  that  even  baby 
nature  was  the  same  the  world  over.  Supper  time 
came,  and  the  children  were  gathered  together  in  a 
small  room,  before  the  drollest  little  table  imagina- 
ble—  a  kind  of  elongated  doughnut,  raised  a  foot 
from  the  floor,  with  a  circular  seat  around  it.  All  the 
little  outer  shells  of  blue  check  were  slipped  on,  all  the 
little  fat  bodies  lifted  over  and  set  into  their  places,  to 
roll  off,  or  about,  at  will.     A  grace  was  said,  to  us,  I 


96  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

think,  since  all  the  little  eyes  turned  towards  us,  and 
a  plate  of  oatmeal  porridge  put  before  each  one.  Some 
ate  with  a  relish,  and  a  painful  search  over  the  face 
with  a  spoon  for  the  open,  waiting  mouth ;  some  leaned 
back  to  stare  at  the  company ;  and  others  persisted  in 
dipping  into  the  dish  of  their  next  neighbor.  One 
little  thing,  hardly  more  than  a  year  old,  drew  down 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  in  a  portentous  manner,  when 
the  motherly  one  beside  her,  of  the  advanced  age  of 
three  years,  perhaps,  rapped  on  the  table  with  her 
spoon,  and  patted  the  doleful  little  face,  smiling  all  the 
while,  until  she  actually  drew  out  smiles  in  return. 
The  dear  little  mother !  An  attendant  with  a  homely 
face,  creased  into  all  manner  of  good-natured  lines,  re- 
solved herself  into  the  old  woman  who  lived  in  a  shoe, 
holding  two  babies  and  the  porridge  dish  in  her  lap, 
balancing  one  upon  the  end  of  the  low  bench  beside  her, 
while  two  or  three  more  stood  at  her  knee,  clinging  to 
her  apron.  It  was  like  a  nest  of  open-mouthed  birdlings. 
Blessings  on  the  babies,  and  those,  whether  of  our  faith 
or  not,  who  teach  and  care  for  them,  we  thought,  as  we 
came  away.  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of 
the  least  of  these,  ye  did  it  unto  me,"  said  the  Master. 
Although  I  said  nothing  of  our  cliurch-going  in 
London,  I  cannot  pass  over  our  American  chapel  in 
Paris,  with  its  carved,  umbrella-like  canopy,  shading 
the  good  Dr.  R.,  who  did  so  much  socially,  as  well  as 
spiritually,  for  Americans  there.  Here  came  many 
whose  names  are  well  known;  among  them  our  min- 
ister to  France,  an  elderly  gentleman  of  unpretending 
dress  and  manner,  with  a  kindly,  care-worn  face.  And 
here   gathered   also  a   company  of  beautiful   women 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  BEAUTIFUL    CITT.        97 

and  children,  proving  the  truth  of  all  that  has  been 
said  of  our  countrywomen.  A  blending  of  all  types 
were  they,  as  our  people  are  a  blending  of  all  nation- 
alities, each  more  lovely  than  the  other,  and  all  making 
up  a  picture  well  worth  seeing.  I  wish  I  might  say  as 
much  for  the  opposite  sex.  One  gentleman,  who  wore 
a  red  rose  always  in  his  button-hole,  and  turned  his 
back  upon  the  minister  to  stare  at  the  women,  had  a 
liandsome  though  blase  face,  and  more  than  one  head 
above  the  pews  would  have  been  marked  anywhere; 
but  the  women  and  children  bore  away  the  palm.  The 
delicate,  sensitive  faces  which  characterize  American 
women,  whether  the  effect  of  climate,  manner  of  life, 
or  of  the  nerves  for  which  we  arc  so  celebrated,  are 
found  nowhere  else,  I  am  sure. 

Besides  the  Sabbath  services  a  weekly  prayer-meet- 
ing was  held  here.  They  were  singing  some  sweet 
familiar  hymn  as  we  entered  one  evening  and  took 
our  place  among  the  pilgrims  and  strangers  like  our- 
selves. It  was  the  last  gathering  for  the  winter.  Some 
were  off  for  home,  some  for  a  summer  of  travel ;  only  a 
few,  with  the  pastor,  were  to  remain.  One  followed 
another  in  words  of  retrospection,  and  regret  at  part- 
ing, until  a  pall  settled  over  the  little  company —  until 
even  we,  who  had  never  been  there  before,  wiped  our 
eyes  because  of  the  general  dolefulness.  A  hush  and 
universal  mistiness  pervaded  the  air  of  the  dimly-lighted 
house ;  the  assembly  seemed  about  to  pass  out  of  ex- 
istence, Niobe-like.  Then  up  rose  Dr.  R.,  the  pastor.  I 
wondered  what  he  could  say  to  add  to  the  gloom; 
something  like  this,  perhaps:  "Dear  people,  everybody 
is  off;  let  us  shut  up  the  church,  lock  the  door,  and 
7 


98  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

throw  away  the  key.  Receive  the  benediction."  But 
no ;  I  wish  you  might  feel  the  thrill  that  went  through 
the  little  company  as  his  words  fell  from  his  lips.  I 
wish  I  dared  attempt  to  repeat  them.  "  And  now  to 
you  who  go,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  who  take  with  you  some- 
thing of  our  hearts,  be  sure  our  prayers  will  follow  you. 
Keep  us  in  memory;  but,  above  all,  keep  in  memo- 
ry your  church  vows.  Make  yourselves  known  as 
Christians  among  Christians.  And  when  you  have 
reached  home  —  the  home  to  which  our  thoughts  have 
so  often  turned  together — let  this  be  a  lesson.  When 
summer  comes  and  you  leave  the  city  for  the  country, 
for  the  mountains,  for  the  sea-side,  take  your  religion 
with  you.  Search  out  some  struggling  little  church 
with  a  discouraged  pastor,  —  you'll  not  look  far  or  long 
to  find  such  a  one, —  and  work  for  that,  as  you  have 
worked  for  us.  And  one  thing  more ;  send  your 
friends  who  are  coming  abroad  to  us.  Send  us  the 
Christians,  for  we  need  them,  and  by  all  means  send  us 
those  who  are  not  Christians;  they  may  need  us ;  and 
the  Lord  bless  you,  and  keep  you  in  all  your  goings, 
and  give  you  peace." 

Then  the  people  gathered  in  knots  for  last  words  — 
for  hand-clasps  and  good-byes.  Now  a  spirit  of  peace 
and  good  will  having  fallen  upon  us  with  the  pastor's 
benediction,  we  gazed  wistfully  upon  the  strangers  in 
the  hope  of  finding  one  familiar  face ;  but  there  was 
none ;  so  we  came  sorrowfully  down  the  aisle.  The  door 
was  almost  reached  when  a  sharp,  twanging  voice  be- 
hind us  began,  "I'm  sent  out  by  X.  &  Y.,  book  publish- 
ers." "O,"  said  I  to  the  friend  at  my  side,  "I  believe  I 
will  speak  to  that  man.     I  know  Mr.  X.,  and  I  do  so 


SIGHTS  IN  THE  BEAUTIFUL    CITT.        99 

want  to  speak  to  somebody."  How  he  accomplished 
the  introduction  I  cannot  tell,  but  in  a  moment  my 
hand  was  grasped  by  that  of  a  stout  little  man,  with 
bushy  hair  and  twinkling  eyes.  "  Know  Mr.  X.  ?  Mr. 
Q.  X.  ?  "  he  began.  To  tell  the  truth  I  had  not  that 
honor,  my  acquaintance  having  been  with  his  brother ; 
but  there  was  no  time  to  explain,  and  retreat  was 
equally  impossible ;  so  I  replied  that  my  father  knew 
him  well ;  then  thinking  that  something  more  was  neces- 
sary to  explain  the  sudden  and  intense  interest  mani- 
fested in  his  behalf,  added,  desperately,  "indeed, 
intimately."  To  this  he  paid  no  manner  of  attention,  — 
I  doubt  if  he  heard  it,  —  but  rattled  on  :  "  Fine  man, 
Mr.  X,  Mr.  Q.  X.  Know  Mr.  Y.?  Fine  man,  Mr.  Y. ; 
been  abroad  a  year ;  I'm  goin'  out  to  meet  him,  I  am. 
He's  in  Switzerland,  Mr.  Y.  is ;  been  abroad  a  year. 
I'm  a  proof-reader,  I  am.  I  s'pose  you  know  what  a 
proof-reader  is."  "Yes,"  I  succeeded  in  inserting 
while  he  took  breath,  remembering  some  aniateur 
attempts  of  my  own  in  that  direction.  He  began  anew : 
"  I'm  sent  out  by  X.  &  Y. ;  expect  to  find  Mr.  Y.  in 
Switzerland;  fine  man — "  Will  he  never  stop,  I 
thought,  beginning  a  backward  retreat  from  the  pew 
down  the  aisle,  with  all  the  while  ringing  in  my  ears, 
"  I'm  a  proof-reader,  I  am,"  &c.  "  Don't  laugh,  pray 
don't,"  I  said  to  the  friends  waiting  at  the  door.  "  It's 
dreadful  —  is  it  not  ?  "  What  became  of  him  we  never 
knew,  but  in  all  probability  the  sexton  removed  him  — 
still  vocal  —  to  the  sidewalk  that  night ;  where,  since 
we  do  not  know  for  how  long  a  time  he  was  wound 
up,  he  may  be  iterating  and  reiterating  to  this  day  the 
interesting  fact  of  his  occupation,  with  the  eulogy  upon 
Messrs.  X.  &  Y. 


100    .        AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SHOW   PLACES    nsr    THE    SI7BUEBS    OP    PARIS. 

The  river  omnibuses.  —  Sevres  and  its  porcelain.  —  St.  Cloud  as 
it  was.  —  The  crooked  little  town.  —  Versailles.  —  Eugenie's 
"  spare  bedroom."  —  The  queen  who  played  she  was  a  farmer's 
wife.  —  Seven  miles  of  paintings.  —  The  portraits  of  the  presi- 
dents. 

THERE  are  four  ways  of  going  to  St.  Cloud,  from 
Paris,  says  the  guide-book ;  we  chose  the  fifth,  and 
took  one  of  the  little  steamboats — the  river  omnibuses 
— that  follow  the  course  of  the  Seine,  stopping  at  the  piers 
along  the  city,  which  occur  almost  as  often  as  the  street 
crossings.  Very  insignificant  little  steamers  they  are, 
made  up  of  puff,  and  snort,  and  smoke,  a  miniature  deck, 
and  a  man  with  a  big  bell.  Up  the  river  we  steamed 
through  a  mist  that  hid  everything  but  the  green 
banks,  the  pretty  villas  whose  lawns  drabbled  their 
skirts  in  the  river,  and  after  a  time  the  islands  that 
seemed  to  have  dropped  cool,  wet,  and  green  into  the 
middle  of  the  stream.  We  plunged  beneath  the  dark 
arches  of  the  stone  bridges  —  the  Pont  d'Alma  not  to 
be  forgotten,  with  its  colossal  sentinels  on  either  side 
of  the  middle  arch,  calm,  white,  and  still,  leaning  upon 
their  muskets,  their  feet  almost  dipping  into  the  water, 


SHOW  PLACES  NEAR  PARIS,  101 

their  great,  stony  eyes  gazing  away  down  the  river. 
Wliat  is  it  they  seem  to  see  beyond  the  bend  ?  What 
is  it  they  watcli  and  wait  for,  gun  in  hand  ?  We  pulled 
our  wraps  about  us,  found  a  sheltered  place,  and  went 
on  far  beyond  our  destination,  through  the  gray  vapor 
that  gathered  sometimes  into  great,  plashing  drops  to 
fall  upon  the  deck,  or,  hovering  in  mid-air,  wiped  out 
the  distance  from  the  landscape  as  effectually  as  the 
sweep  of  a  painter's  brush,  while  it  softened  and 
spiritualized  everything  near,  from  the  sharply  outlined 
eaves,  and  gables,  and  narrow  windows  of  the  village 
struggling  up  from  the  water,  to  the  shadowy  span  of 
the  bridges  that  seemed  to  rest  upon  air.  Then  down 
with  the  rain  and  the  cun-ent  we  swept  again,  to  land 
at  the  forsaken  pier  of  Sevres,  from  which  we  made  our 
way  over  the  pavings,  so  inviting  in  these  French 
towns  for  missile  or  barricade,  to  the  porcelain  factory. 
No  fear  of  missing  it,  since  it  is  the  one  object  of  in- 
terest to  strangers  in  the  town ;  and  whatever  question 
we  asked,  the  reply  would  have  been  the  pointing  of 
the  finger  in  that  one  direction.  Once  there,  we  clat- 
tered and  slipped  over  .the  tiled  floor  after  a  polite  at- 
tendant, through  its  many  show-rooms,  and  among  its 
wilderness  of  pottery,  ancient  and  modern.  The  manu- 
factory was  established  by  —  I'm  sure  I  don't  know 
whom  —  in  seventeen  hundred  and  —  something,  at 
Vincennes,  quite  the  other  side  of  Paris;  but  a  few 
years  later,  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XY.,  was  transferred 
to  Sevres,  and  put  under  the  direction  of  governmei-t. 
It  is  almost  impossible  to  gain  permission  to  visit  the 
workshops,  but  a  permit  to  pass  through  the  show- 
rooms can  easily  be  obtained.     There  were  queer  old- 


102  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

fashioned  attempts  at  glazed  ware  here,  some  of  them 
adorned  with  pictures  like  those  we  used  to  see  in  our 
grandmothers'  china  closets,  of  puffy  little  pink  gentle- 
men and  ladies  ambling  over  a  pink  foreground  ;  a  pink 
mountain,  of  pyramidal  form,  rising  from  the  wide- 
rimraed  hat  of  the  roseate  gentlemen ;  a  pink  lake 
standing  on  end  at  the  feet  of  the  lady,  and  a  little 
pink  house,  upon  which  they  might  both  have  sat 
comfortably,  with  a  few  clouds  of  jeweller's  cotton  com- 
pleting the  picture.  A  striking  contrast  were  these  to 
the  marvels  of  frailty  and  grace  of  later  times.  The 
rooms  were  hung  with  paintings  upon  porcelain,  the 
burial  of  Attila,  which  we  had  seen  at  the  Louvre, 
among  them.  Every  conceivable  model  of  vase,  pitcher, 
and  jar  was  here  —  quaint,  beautiful  conceptions  of 
form  adorned  by  the  hand  of  skilful  artists,  from  mam- 
moth vases,  whirling  upon  stationary  pedestals,  to  the 
most  delicate  cup  that  ever  touched  red  lips. 

At  noon  we  strolled  over  to  St.  Cloud,  a  pleasant 
walk  of  a  mile,  beginning  with  a  shaded  avenue,  rough 
as  a  country  road ;  then  on,  down  a  street  loading  to 
the  gates  of  the  park  of  St.  Cloud  —  a  street  so  vain 
of  its  destination  that  it  was  actually  lifted  up  above 
the  gardens  on  either  side.  From  the  wide  gates  we 
passed  into  a  labyrinth  of  shaded,  clean-swept  ways, 
and  followed  one  to  the  avenue  of  the  fountains,  where 
we  sat  upon  the  edge  of  a  stone  basin  to  await  the 
opening  of  the  palace.  For  do  not  imagine,  dear 
reader,  that  you  can  run  in  and  out  of  palaces  without 
ceremony  and  at  all  houi*s  of  the  day.  There  is  an  ap- 
pointed time ;  there  is  the  gathering  outside  of  the 
curious ;  there  is  the  coming  of  a  man  with  rattling, 


SHOW  PLACES  NEAR  PARIS.  103 

ringing  keys ;  there  is  the  throwing  open  of  wide  gates 
and  massive  doors,  and  then  —  and  not  until  then  — 
the  entering  in.  As  for  the  fountains,  next  to  those  at 
Versailles  they  have  been  widely  celebrated;  but  as 
they  only  played  upon  Sundays  and  fete  days,  we  did 
not  see  them.  Their  Sunday  gowns  of  mist  and  flow- 
ing water  were  laid  aside,  and  naked  and  bare  enough 
they  were  this  day.  The  wide  basins,  the  lions  and 
dolphins,  were  here,  with  the  marble  nymphs,  and  fauns 
and  satyrs,  that  make  a  shower-bath  spectacle  of  them- 
selves upon  gala  days.  When  the  hour  refused  to 
strike,  and  we  grew  hungry,  —  as  one  will  among  the 
rarest  and  most  wonderful  things,  —  we  left  the  park, 
to  find  the  crooked  little  town  that  sits  in  the  dust  al- 
ways at  the  feet  of  palaces.  Its  narrow  streets  ran 
close  up  to  the  gates,  and  would  have  run  in  had  they 
not  been  shut.  Here  in  the  low,  smoke-stained  room 
of  an  inn  that  was  only  a  wine-shop,  we  spent  the  time 
of  waiting,  —  our  elbows  upon  the  round,  dark  table, 
which,  with  the  dirt  and  wooden  chairs,  made  up  its 
only  furnishing,  —  sipping  the  sour  wine,  cutting  slices 
from  the  long,  melancholy  stick  of  bread,  all  dust  and 
ashes,  and  nibbling  the  cheese  that  might  have  vied 
with  Samson  for  strength.  The  diamond-paned  win- 
dow was  flung  wide  open,  for  the  air  seemed  soiled  and 
stained,  like  the  floor.  Just  across  the  narrow,  empty 
street,  an  old  house  elbowed  our  inn.  The  eaves  of 
its  thatched  roof  were  tufted  with  moss,  out  from  which 
rose  a  mass  of  delicate  pink  blossoms  —  pretty  inno- 
cents, fairly  blushing  for  shame  of  their  surroundings. 
Through  the  long  passage-way  came  the  sound  of  high- 
pitched  voices  —  of  a  strange  jargon  from  the  room 


104  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

opening  upon  the  street,  where  a  heavy-eyed  maid,  be* 
hind  a  pewter  bar,  served  the  blue-bloused  workmen 
gathered  about  the  little  tables. 

The  white  palace  of  8t.  Cloud,  with  its  Corinthian 
columns,  stood  daintily  back  from  its  gates  and  the 
low-bred  town ;  but  its  long  wings  had  run  down,  like 
curious  children,  to  peep  out  through  the  bars ;  so,  you 
will  see,  it  formed  three  sides  of  a  square.  It  had 
lately  been  refurnished  for  the  prince  imperial.  The 
grand  salons  need  not  be  described ;  one  is  especially 
noted  as  having  been  the  place  where  a  baby  was  once 
baptized,  who  is  now  ex-emperor  of  France.  In  the 
same  room  the  civil  contract  of  marriage  between  Na- 
poleon I.  and  Marie  Louise  was  celebrated.  A  few 
elegant  but  less  spacious  rooms  were  interesting  from 
having  been  the  private  apartments  of  the  poor  queens 
and  empresses  who  have  shared  the  throne  of  France. 
Gorgeous  they  were  in  tapestry  and  gilding,  filled  with 
a  gaping  crowd  of  visitors,  and  echoing  to  the  voi<je  of 
a  voluble  guide.  Royal  fingers  may  have  touched  the 
pretty  trinkets  lying  about ;  royal  forms  reclined  upon 
the  soft  couches ;  royal  aching  hearts  beat  to  the  tick 
of  the  curious  gilt  clock,  that  bore  as  many  faces  as  a 
woman,  some  one  wickedly  said ;  but  it  was  impossible 
to  reahze  it,  or  to  believe  that  high  heels,  and  panniers, 
and  jaunty  hats  upon  sweet-faced,  shrill-voiced  Ameri- 
can gills  had  not  ruled  and  reigned  here  always,  as  they 
did  this  day. 

Versailles  lies  out  beyond  St.  Cloud,  but  we  gave  to 
it  another  day.  We  were  a  merry  party,  led  by  Dr. 
R.,  who  left  the  train  at  the  station,  and  filled  the 
omnibus  for  the  palace.     There  was  an  air  of  having 


SHOW  PLACES  NEAR  PARIS.  105 

seen  better  days  about  the  city,  which  was  at  one  time 
the  second  of  importance  in  France ;  it  fed  and  fattened 
upon  the  court,  and  when  at  last  the  court  went  away 
not  to  return,  it  came  to  giief.  The  most  vivid  recol- 
lection I  have  of  the  great  court-yard,  around  which 
extend  three  sides  of  the  palace,  is  of  its  round  paving- 
stones —  that  seemed  to  have  risen  up  preparatory  to 
crying  out  —  and  the  grove  of  weather-stained  statues 
upon  high  pedestals,  —  generals,  cardinals,  and  states- 
men who  hated  and  connived  against  each  other  in 
life,  doomed  now  in  stone  to  stare  each  other  out  of 
countenance.  I  am  sure  we  detected  a  wry  face  here 
and  there,  to  say  nothing  of  clinched  fists.  It  is  a 
gloomy  old  court-yard  at  best.  The  front  of  tbe  main 
building  is  all  that  remains  of  the  old  hunting-seat  of 
Louis  XIII.,  which  his  son  would  not  suffer  to  be  de- 
stroyed. It  is  of  dingy,  mildewed  brick,  that  can  never 
in  any  possible  light  appear  palatial ;  and  so  blackened 
and  purple-stained  are  the  statues  before  it  that  they 
might  have  been  just  brought  from  the  Morgue.  The 
whole  palace  is  only  a  show  place  now — a  museum 
of  painting  and  statuary.  As  for  the  celebrated  gar- 
dens, we  walked  for  hours,  and  still  they  stretched  away 
on  every  side.  We  explored  paths  wide  and  narrow, 
crooked  and  straight,  and  saw  clipped  trees  by  the 
mile,  with  grottoes  and  the  skeletons  of  the  fountains 
that,  like  naughty  children,  play  o'  Sundays,  and  all 
the  wonderful  trees,  shrubs,  and  flowers  brought  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  ate  honey  gingerbread  (fla- 
vored with  extract  of  turpentine)  before  an  open  booth, 
and  were  ready  to  faint  with  weariness;  and  when  at  last 
a  broad  avenue  opened  before  us  with  the  Trianons, 


106  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

which  must  be  seen,  at  the  farther  end,  we  would  not 
have  taken  the  whole  place  as  a  gift.  It  must  have 
been  at  this  point  that  we  fortified  ourselves  with  the 
gingerbread. 

The  Giand  Trianon  alone  were  we  permitted  to  enter. 
It  is  in  the  form  of  an  Italian  villa,  with  a  ground  floor 
only,  and  long  windows  opening  upon  dehghtful  gar- 
dens. Like  Versailles,  it  is  now  a  mere  show,  although 
a  suit  of  apartments  was  fitted  up  here  some  time  since, 
in  anticipation  of  a  neighborly  visit  from  Queen  Vic- 
toria to  Eugenie,  making  of  the  little  palace  a  kind  of 
guest  chamber,  a  spare  bedroom.  As  we  followed  a 
winding  path  through  the  park,  we  came  suddenly 
upon  an  open  glade,  surrounded  and  shaded  by  forest 
trees.  Over  the  tiny  lake,  in  the  centre,  swans  were 
sailing.  Half  hidden  among  the  wide-spread,  sweeping 
branches  of  the  trees  were  the  scattered  farm-houses 
of  a  deserted  village  —  only  half  a  dozen  in  all,  of  rude, 
half  Swiss  architecture,  made  to  imitate  age  and  decay, 
quaintly  picturesque.  Here  Marie  Antoinette  and  her 
court  played  at  poverty.  Do  you  remember  how, 
when  she  grew  weary  of  solemn  state,  she  came  here 
with  a  few  favored  ones  to  forget  her  crown,  and  dream 
she  was  a  farmer's  wife  ?  The  dairy  was  empty,  the 
marble  slab  bare  upon  which  she  made  butter  for  her 
guests.  Just  beyond  was  the  mill,  but  the  wheel  was 
still.  It  was  a  pleasant  dream -^  a  dream  of  Arcadia. 
Ah,  but  there  was  a  fearful  awakening !  "  The  poorest 
peasant  in  the  land,"  said  the  queen,  "  has  one  little 
spot  which  she  can  call  her  own ;  the  Queen  of  France 
asks  no  more."  So  she  shut  the  gates  upon  the  people 
who  had  claimed  and  held  the  right,  from  all  time,  to 


SHOW  PLACES  NEAR  PARIS.  107 

wander  at  will  through  the  gardens  of  their  kings. 
Then  they  hated  her,  whom  they  had  greeted  with 
shouts  of  welcome  when  she  came  a  bride  from  over 
the  border.  "  The  Austrian !  the  Austrian  ! "  they 
hissed  through  the  closed  gates.  And  one  day  they 
dragged  her  out  from  a  bare  cell  in  the  Conciergerie, 

—  no  make-believe  of  rough  walls,  of  coarse  fare  there, 

—  they  bound  the  slender  hands  behind  her,  they  thrust 
into  a  prison  cart  the  form  that  had  been  used  to  rest 
upon  down  and  silken  cushions,  and  bore  her  over 
the  rough  stones  to  the  scaffold.  Ah,  it  makes  one 
shudder ! 

To  see  the  two  hundred  rooms  of  the  palace  of 
Versailles  requires  a  day,  at  least ;  but  we,  fearful  that 
this  m'ight  be  our  last  opportunity,  determined  to  spend 
the  remaining  hour  or  two  and  our  last  atom  of  strength 
in  the  attempt.  A  wandering  cabman  pounced  upon 
us  as  we  came  down  the  avenue  from  the  Trianons, 
and  bore  us  back  to  the  palace,  where  we  toiled  up 
and  down  the  grand  stairway,  and  peeped  into  the 
chapel  that  had  echoed  to  the  mockery  of  worship  in 
the  time  of  the  king  who  built  all  this  —  the  king  who 
loved  everybody's  wife  but  his  own  —  so  faithlessly! 
There  was  a  dizzy  hurrying  through  corridors  lined 
with  statuary,  through  one  salon  after  another  hung 
with  Horace  Vernet's  paintings  describing  the  glories 
of  France  —  the  crowning  of  its  kings,  the  reception 
of  its  ambassadors,  the  signing  of  its  treaties,  the 
winning  of  its  battles ;  but  was  all  this  bloodshed,  and 
all  this  agony  depicted  upon  canvas,  for  the  glory  of 
France?  There  were  immense  galleries,  where,  on 
every  side,  from  cornice  to  floor,  one  was  conscious  of 


108  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

nothing  but  smoke  and  cannon,  wounds  and  gore, 
and  rolling  eyes.  We  walked  over  the  prescribed 
three  miles  and  a  half  of  floors  slippery  as  ice,  and 
gazed  upon  the  seven  miles  of  pictures,  with  a  feeling 
less  of  pleasure  or  gratified  curiosity  than  of  satisfactioa 
at  having  done  Versailles.  Room  after  room  was  de- 
voted to  portraits,  full  lengths  and  half  lengths,  side 
faces  and  full  fronts ;  faces  to  be  remembered,  if  one 
had  not  been  in  such  mortal  haste,  and  faces  that 
would  never  have  been  missed  from  the  ermined  robes. 
In  a  quiet  comer  we  were  startled  to  find  some  of  our 
good  presidents  staring  down  upon  us  from  the  wall 
A  mutual  surprise  it  seemed  to  be.  But  if  we  Ameri- 
cans must  be  awkward  and  clownish  to  the  last  degree, 
half  civilized,  and  but  one  remove  from  barbarism,  don't 
let  us  put  the  acme  of  all  this  upon  canvas,  and  hang 
it  in  the  palace  of  kings.  Here  was  President  Grant 
represented  in  the  saloon  of  a  steamboat,  —  America  to 
the  last,  —  one  leg  crossed,  one  heel  upon  the  opposite 
knee,  and  his  head  about  to  sink  into  his  coat  collar  in 
an  agony  of  terror  at  finding  himself  among  quality. 
His  attitude  might  have  been  considered  graceful  and 
dignified  in  a  bar-room,  or  even  in  the  saloon  of  a 
Mississippi  steamer;  but  it  utterly  failed  in  both  par- 
ticulars in  the  Palace  of  Versailles,  among  courtly  men 
and  high-bred  women. 


A    VISIT  TO  BRUSSELS.  109 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A  VISIT    TO   BRUSSELS. 


To  Brussels.  —  The  old  and  new  city.  —  The  paradise  and 
purgatory  of  dogs.  —  The  Hotel  de  Ville  and  Grand  Place. — 
St.  Gudule.  —  The  picture  galleries.  —  Wiertz  and  his  odd 
paintings.  —  Brussels  lace  and  an  hour  with  the  lace-makers. 
How  the  girls  found  Charlotte  Bronte's  school.  —  The  scene 
of  "  Villette." 

THERE  were  one  or  two  more  excursions  from 
Paris,  and  then,  when  we  had  grasped  the  fat 
hand  of  Monsieur,  our  landlord,  and  kissed  the  dark 
cheeks  of  Madame,  his  wife,  and  submitted  to  the  same 
from  Mademoiselle,  their  daughter,  with  light  hearts, 

serene  consciences,  and  the family  we  started  for 

Brussels.     It  is  a  six  hours'  ride  by  rail. 

Almost  as  soon  as  the  line  between  France  and  Bel- 
gium is  passed,  the  low  hills  drop  away,  the  thatch- 
roofed  cottages  give  place  to  those  of  whitewashed 
brick,  with  bright,  red-tiled  roofs.  All  along  the  way 
were  the  straight  poplars  overrun  with  ivy,  and  the 
land  was  cared  for,  coaxed,  and  fairly  driven  to  the  high- 
est point  of  cultivation.  Women  were  at  work  in  the 
fields,  and  more  than  one  Maud  Miiller  leaned  upon  her 
rake  to  gaze  after  us.  Soon,  when  there  were  only 
level  fields  beneath  a  level  sky,  the   windmills  began 


110  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

to  appear  in  the  distance,  slowly  swinging  the  ghostly 
arms  that  became  long,  narrow  sails  as  we  neared  thera. 
At  two  o'clock  we  reached  Brussels,  after  being  nearly 
resolved  into  our.original  element  —  dust.  Nothing  but 
a  sand-hill  ever  equalled  the  appearance  we  presented 
wlien  we  stepped  from  the  train  ;  nor  did  we  need  any- 
thing so  much  as  to  be  thrown  over  a  line  and  beaten 
like  a  carpet  when  we  finally  gained  our  hotel. 

The  old  city  of  Brussels  is  crooked,  and  dull,  and 
picturesque;  but  joined  to  it — like  an  old  man  with 
a  gay  young  wife  —  is  the  beautiful  Paris-like  upper 
town,  with  its  houses  covered  with  white  stucco,  and  a 
little  mirror  outside  of  every  window,  placed  at  an  an- 
gle of  forty-five  degrees,  so  that  Madame,  sitting  within, 
can  see  all  that  passes  upon  the  street,  herself  unseen. 
Here  in  the  new  town  are  the  palaces,  the  finest 
churches,  the  hotels,  and  Marie  Therese's  park,  where 
young  and  old  walk,  and  chat,  and  make  eyes  at  each 
other  summer  evenings.  Scores  of  strings,  with  a 
poodle  at  one  extremity  and  a  woman  at  the  other, 
may  here  be  seen,  with  little  rugs  laid  upon  the 
ground  for  the  pink-eyed  pufi*-balls  to  rest  upon. 
Truly  Brussels  is  the  paradise  and  purgatory  of  dogs. 
Anywhere  upon  the  streets  you  may  see  great,  hungry- 
eyed  animals  dragging  little  carts  pushed  by  women ; 
and  it  is  difficult  to  determine  which  is  the  most  for- 
lorn —  the  dog,  the  cart,  or  the  woman.  We  never 
understood  before  what  it  was  to  "work  like  a  dog." 
At  one  extremity  of  the  park  was  the  white,  new  Sen- 
ate-house; opposite,  the  gray,  barrack-like  palace  of 
the  king ;  upon  the  third  side,  among  others,  our  hotel. 
Here  we  were  happy  in  finding   another   family  of 


A    VISIT  TO  BRUSSELS.  \\\ 

friends.  With  them  we  strolled  down  into  the  old 
town,  after  dinner,  taking  to  the  middle  of  the  street, 
in  continental  fashion,  as  naturally  as  ducks  to  water ; 
crossing  back  and  forth  to  stare  up  at  a  church  or  into 
a  shop  window,  —  straggling  along  one  after  another 
in  a  way  that  would  have  been  marked  at  home,  but 
was  evidently  neither  new  nor  strange  here,  where  the 
native  population  attended  to  their  own  affairs  with  a 
zeal  worthy  of  reward,  and  other  parties  of  sight-seers 
were  plying  their  vocation  with  a  perseverance  that 
would  have  won  eminence  in  any  other  profession. 
Through  crooked  by-ways  we  wandered  to  the  Grand 
Place  of  the  old  city  —  a  paved  square  shut  in  by  high 
Spanish-gabled  houses  ornamented  with  the  designs 
of  the  various  guilds.  From  the  windows  of  one  hung 
the  red,  yellow,  and  black  Belgian  flag.  There  was  no 
rattle  of  carts,  no  clatter  of  hoofs.  Down  upon  the 
dark  paving-stones  a  crowd  of  women,  old  and  young, 
with  handkerchiefs  crossed  over  their  bosoms,  were 
holding  a  flower-market.  Just  behind  them  rose  the 
grim  statues  of  the  two  counts,  Egmont  and  Van  Horn, 
—  who  lost  their  heads  while  striving  to  gain  their  cause 
against  Spanish  tyranny  and  the  Spanish  Inquisition, — 
and  the  old  royal  palace,  blackened  and  battered  by 
time  and  the  hand  of  forgotten  sculptors,  until  it  seemed 
like  the  mummy  of  a  palace,  half  eaten  away.  Just 
before  them  was  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  with  its  beautiful 
tower  of  gray  stone,  its  roof  a  mass  of  dormer  windows. 
It  comes  to  me  like  a  picture  now  —  the  gathering 
shadows  of  a  summer  night,  the  time-worn  houses, 
lovely  in  decay,  the  tawdry  flag,  and  the  heads  of  the 
old  women  nodding  over  their  flowers. 


112  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Brussels  has  a  grand  church  dedicated  to  Saints 
Michael  and  Gudule.  If  I  could  only  give  to  you, 
who  have  not  seen  them,  some  idea  of  the  vastness 
and  beauty  of  these  cathedrals !  But  descriptions  are 
tiresome,  and  dimensions  nobody  reads.  If  I  could 
only  tell  you  how  far  extending  they  are,  both  upon 
earth  and  towards  heaven  —  how  they  seem  not  so  much 
to  have  been  built  stone  upon  stone,  as  to  have  stood 
from  the  foundation  of  the  world,  solitary,  alone,  until, 
after  long  ages,  some  strolling  town  came  to  wonder, 
and  worship,  and  sit  at  their  feet  in  awe !  We  crept  in 
through  the  narrow  door  that  shut  behind  us  with  a 
dull  echo.  A  chill  like  that  of  a  tomb  pervaded  the 
air,  though  a  summer  sun  beat  down  upon  the  stones 
outside.  A  forest  of  clustered  columns  rose  all  around 
us.  Far  above  our  heads  was  a  gray  sky,  the  groined 
arches  where  little  birds  flew  about.  Stained  windows 
gleamed  down  the  vast  length,  broken  by  the  divisions 
and  subdivisions,  —  one,  far  above  the  grand  entrance, 
like  the  wheel  of  a  chariot  of  fire.  All  along  the  walls, 
over  the  altar,  and  filling  the  chapel  niches,  were  pic- 
tures of  saints,  and  martyrs,  and  blessed  virgins,  that 
seemed  in  the  dim  distance  like  dots  upon  the  wall. 
Muffled  voices  broke  upon  the  stillness.  Far  up  the 
nave  a  little  company  of  worshippers  knelt  before  the 
altar  —  workingmen  who  had  thrown  down  mallet 
and  chisel  for  a  moment,  to  creep  within  the  shadows 
of  the  sanctuary;  market-women,  a  stray  water-cress 
still  clinging  to  the  folds  of  their  gowns ;  children 
dropping  upon  the  rush  kneeling-chairs,  to  mutter  a 
prayer  God  grant  they  feel,  with  ever  and  anon,  above 
the  murmur  of  the  prayer,  above  the  drone  of  white- 


A    VISIT  TO  BRUSSELS.  113 

robed  priests,  the  low,  full  chant  from  hidden  singers, 
echoing  through  the  arches  and  among  the  pillars,  fol- 
lowing us  down  the  aisles  to  where  we  read  upon  the 
monuments  the  deeds  of  some  old  knight  of  heathen 
times,  whose  image  has  survived  his  dust  —  whose 
works  have  followed  him.  ^ 

After  leaving  the  church  we  wandered  among  and 
through  the  picture  galleries  in  the  old  palaces  of  the 
city, — galleries  of  modern  Belgian  art,  with  one  ex- 
ception, where  were  numberless  flat  old  Flemish  pic- 
tures, and  dead  Christs,  livid,  ghastly,  horrible  to  look 
upon.  The  best  of  Flemish  art  is  not  in  Brussels. 
Among  the  galleries  of  modern  paintings,  that  of  the 
odd  artist,  recently  deceased,  Wiertz,  certainly  deserves 
mention.  It  contains  materials  for  a  fortune  to  an  en- 
terprising Yankee.  The  subjects  of  the  pictures  are 
allegorical,  parabolical,  and  diabolical,  the  scenes  being 
laid  in  heaven,  hell,  and  mid-air.  In  one.  Napoleon  I. 
is  represented  surrounded  by  the  flames  of  hell,  folding 
his  arms  in  the  Napoleonic  attitude,  while  his  soldiers 
crowd  around  him  to  hold  up  maimed  limbs  and  ghast- 
ly wounds  with  a  denunciatory  and  angry  air.  Widows 
and  orphans  thrust  themselves  before  his  face  with 
anathematizing  countenances.  In  fact,  the  situation  is 
decidedly  unpleasant  for  the  hero,  and  one  longs  for  a 
bucket  of  cold  water.  Many  of  the  pictures  were  be- 
hind screens,  and  to  be  seen  through  peep-holes  —  one 
of  them  a  ghastly  thing,  of  coffins  broken  open  and 
their  risen  occupants  emerging  in  shrouds.  Upon  the 
walls  around  the  room  were  painted  half-open  doors 
and  windows  with  pretty  girls  peeping  out;  close  down 
to  the  floor,  a  dog  kennel,  from  which  its  savage  occu- 


114  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

pant  was  ready  to  spring;  just  above  him,  from  a  lat- 
ticed window,  an  old  concierge  leaned  out  to  ask  our 
business.  Even  in  the  pictures  hanging  upon  the  walls 
was  something  of  this  trickery.  In  one  the  foot  and 
hand  of  a  giant  were  painted  out  upon  the  frame,  so 
that  he  seemed  to  be  just  stepping  out  from  his  place ; 
and  I  am  half  inclined  to  think  that  many  of  the  peo- 
ple walking  about  the  room  were  originally  framed 
upon  the  walls. 

Brussels  is  always  associated  in  one's  mind  with  its 
laces.  We  visited  one  of  the  manufactories.  A  dozen 
or  twenty  women  were  busy  in  a  sunny,  cheerful  room, 
working  out  the  pretty  leaves  and  flowers,  with  needle 
and  thread,  for  ih^  point  lace,  or  twisting  the  bobbins 
among  the  innumerable  pins  in  the  cushion  before 
them  to  follow  the  pattern  for  the  point  applique. 
When  completed,  you  know,  the  delicate  designs  are 
sewed  upon  gossamer  lace.  Upon  a  long,  crimson- 
covered  table  in  the  room  above  were  spread  out,  in 
tempting  array,  the  results  of  this  tiresome  labor  — 
coiffures  that  would  almost  resign  one  to  a  bald  spot, 
handkerchiefs  insnaring  as  cobwebs,  harbes  that  fairly 
pierced  our  hearts,  and  shawls  for  which  there  are  no 
words.  I  confess  that  these  soft,  delicate  things  have 
for  women  a  wonderful  charm  —  that  as  we  turned 
over  and  over  in  our  hands  the  frail,  yellow-white  cob- 
webs, some  of  us  more  than  half  forgot  the  tenth  com- 
mandment. 

Tahle-cVhote  over,  one  evening,  "Where  shall  we 
go?  What  can  we  do  ?  "queried  one  of  the  four  girls 
in  our  party,  two  of  whom  had  but  just  now  escaped 
from  the  thraldom  of  a  French  pensionnat. 


A    VISIT  TO  BRUSSELS.  115 

"  It  would  be  so  delightful  if  we  could  walk  out  for 
once  by  ourselves.  If  there  were  only  something  to 
see  —  somewhere  to  go." 

"  Girls ! "  exclaimed  Axelle,  suddenly,  "  was  not  the 
scene  of  Yillette  laid  in  Brussels?  Is  not  Charlotte 
Bronte's  boarding-school  here  ?  I  am  sure  it  is.  Sup- 
pose we  seek  it  out  —  we  four  girls  alone." 

"But  how,  and  where?"  and  "Wouldn't  that  be 
fine? "  chorused  the  others.  There  was  a  hasty  search 
through  guide-books ;  but  alas !  not  a  clew  could  we 
find,  not  a  peg  upon  which  to  hang  the  suspicions  that 
were  almost  certainties. 

"I  am  sure  it  was  here,"  persisted  Axelle.  "I  wish 
we  had  a  VilletteP 

"  We  could  get  one  at  an  English  library,"  sug- 
gested another. 

"  If  there  is  any  English  library  here,"  added  a  third, 
doubtfully. 

Evidently  that  must  be  our  first  point  of  departure. 
We  could  ask  for  information  there.  Accordingly  we 
planned  our  crusade,  as  gh-ls  do,  ^-r- the  elders  smiling 
unbelief,  as  elders  will,  —  and  sallied  out  at  last  into 
the  summer  sunshine,  very  brave  in  our  hopes,  very 
glad  in  our  unwonted  liberty.  A  commissionaire 
gave  us  the  address  of  the  bookstore  we  sought  as 
we  were  leaving  the  hotel.  "  There  are  no  obsta- 
cles in  the  path  of  the  determined,"  we  said,  step- 
ping out  upon  the  Rue  Royale.  Across  the  way  was 
the  grand  park,  a  maze  of  winding  avenues,  shaded  by 
lofty  trees,  with  nymphs,  and  fauns,  and  satyrs  hiding 
among  the  shrubbery,  and  with  all  the  tortuous  paths 
made  into  mosaic  pavement  by  the  shimmering  sun- 


116  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

light.  But  to  Axelle  YilleUe  was  more  real  than  that 
June  day. 

"Do  you  remember,"  she  said,  "how  Lucy  Snow 
reached  the  city  alone  and  at  night?  —  how  a  young 
English  stranger  conducted  her  across  the  park,  she  fol- 
lowing in  his  footsteps  through  the  darkness,  and  hear- 
ing only  the  tramp,  tramp,  before  her,  and  the  drip  of 
the  rain  as  it  fell  from  the  soaked  leaves  ?  This  must 
be  the  park." 

When  we  had  passed  beyond  its  limits,  we  espied  a 
little  square,  only  a  kind  of  alcove  in  the  street,  in  the 
centre  of  which  was  the  statue  of  some  military  hero. 
Behind  it  a  quadruple  flight  of  broad  stone  steps  led 
down  into  a  lower  and  more  quiet  street.  Facing  us, 
as  we  looked  down,  was  a  white  stuccoed  house,  with  a 
glimpse  of  a  garden  at  one  side. 

"  See !  "  exclaimed  Axelle,  joyfully ;  "  I  believe  this  is 
the  very  place.  Don't  you  remember  when  they  had 
come  out  from  the  park,  and  Lucy's  guide  left  her 
to  find  an  inn  near  by,  she  ran,  —  being  frightened,  — 
and  losing  her  way,  came  at  last  to  a  flight  of  steps 
like  these,  which  she  descended,  and  found,  instead  of 
the  inn,  the  pensionnat  of  Madame  Beck  ?  "  Only  the 
superior  discretion  and  worldly  wisdom  of  the  others 
prevented  Axelle  from  following  in  Lucy  Snow's  foot- 
steps, and  settling  the  question  of  identity  then  and 
there.  As  it  was,  we  went  on  to  the  library,  a  stuffy 
little  place,  with  a  withered  old  man  for  sole  attendant, 
who,  seated  before  a  table  in  the*  back  shop,  was  poring 
over  an  old  book.  We  darted  in,  making  a  bewil- 
dering flutter  of  wings,  and  pecked  him  with  a  dozen 
questions  at  once,  oddly  inflected :    Was  the  scene  of 


A    VISIT  TO  BRUSSELS.  117 

Yillette  laid  in  Brussels  ? "  and  "is  the  school  really 
here?"  and  "You  donH  say  so!  "though  we  had  in- 
sisted upon  it  from  the  first,  and  he  had  just  replied  in 
the  affirmative;  lastly,  "O,  do  tell  us  how  we  may 
find  it." 

"  You  must  go  so-and-so,"  he  said  at  length,  when  we 
paused. 

"  Yes,'*  we  replied  in  chorus ;  "  we  have  just  come 
from  there." 

"And,"  he  went  on,  "you  will  see  the  statue  of 
General  Beliard." 

We  nudged  each  other  significantly. 

"  Go  down  the  steps  in  the  rear,  and  the  house  facing 
you  —  " 

"  We  knew  it.  We  felt  it,"  we  cried,  triumph  an  tl}'' ; 
and  his  directions  ended  there.  We  neither  heeded 
nor  interpreted  the  expression  of  expectation  that  stole 
over  his  face.  We  poured  out  only  a  stream  of  thanks 
which  should  have  moistened  the  parched  sands  of  his 
soul,  and  then  hastened  to  retrace  our  steps.  We 
found  the  statue  again.  We  descended  into  the  nar- 
row, noiseless  street,  and  stood,  —  an  awe-stjuck  group, 
—  before  the  great  square  house,  upon  the  door-plate 
of  which  we  read, — 

"pensionnat  de  demoiselles. 
Heger  —  Parent." 

"  Now,"  said  Axelle,  when  we  had  drawn  in  with  a 
deep  breath,  the  satisfaction  and  content  which  shone 
out  again  from  our  glad  eyes,  "  we  will  ring  the 
bell." 


118  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

"You  will  not  think  of  it,"  gasped  the  choir  of 
startled  girls. 

"To  be  sure;  what  have  we  come  for?"  was  her 
reply.  "  We  will  only  ask  permission  to  see  the  gar- 
den, and  as  the  portress  will  doubtless  speak  nothing 
but  French,  some  one  of  you,  fresh  from  school,  must 
act  as  mouthpiece."  They  stared  at  Axelle,  at  each 
other,  and  at  the  steps  leading  into  the  upper  town,  as 
though  they  meditated  flight.  "I  cannot,"  and  "Z 
cannot,"  said  each  one  of  the  shrinking  group. 

Axelle  laid  her  hand  upon  the  bell,  and  gave  one 
long,  strong  pull.  ■  "  Now,"  she  said,  quietly,  "  some  one 
of  you  must  speak.  You  are  ladies :  you  will  not  run 
away." 

And  tHfey  accepted  the  situation. 

We  were  shown  into  a  small  salon,  where  presently 
there  entered  to  us  a  brisk,  sharp-featured  little  French 
woman,  — a  teacher  in  the  establishment,  —  who  smiled 
a  courteous  welcome  from  out  her  black  eyes  as  we 
apologized  for  the  intrusion,  and  made  known  our 
wishes. 

"  We  are  a  party  of  American  girls,"  we  said,  "  who, 
having  learned  to  know  and  love  Charlotte  Bronte 
through  her  books,  desire  to  see  the  garden  of  which 
she  wrote  in  YilletteP 

"  O,  certainly,  certainly,"  was  the  gracious  response. 
"Americans  often  come  to  visit  the  school  and  the 
garden." 

"  Then  this  is  the  school  where  she  was  for  so  long 
a  time  ?  "  we  burst  out  simultaneously,  forgetting  our 
little  prepared  speeches. 

"Yes,  mesdemoiselles ;  I  also  was  a  pupil  at  that 


A    VISIT  TO  BRUSSELS.  119 

time,"  was  the  reply.  "We  viewed  the  dark  little  wo- 
man with  sudden  awe. 

"  But  tell  us|?'  **'e  said,  crowding  around  her,  "  was 
she  like  —  like  —  "  We  could  think  of  no  comparison 
that  would  do  justice  to  the  subject. 

The  reply  was  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and,  "  She 
was  just  a  quiet  little  thing,  in  no  way  remarkable.  I 
am  sure,"  she  added,  "  we  did  not  think  her  a  genius ; 
and  indeed,  though  I  have  read  her  books,  I  can  see 
nothing  in  them  to  admire  or  praise  so  highly  !  " 

"But  they  are  so  wonderful!"  ventured  one  of  our 
number,  gushingly. 

"  They  are  very  untrue,"  she  replied,  while  something 
like  a  spark  shot  from  the  dark  eyes. 

O,  shades  of  departed  story-tellers,  is  it  thus  ye  are 
to  be  judged  ? 

"  Madame  Heger,"  she  went  on,  "  who  still  has  charge 
of  the  school,  is  a  most  excellent  lady,  and  not  at  all 
the  person  desciibed  as  '  Madame  Beck.'  " 

"And  M.  Paul  Emmanuel,  —  Lucy  Snow's  teacher- 
lover," —  we  ventured  to  suggest  with  some  timidity. 

"  Is  Madame  Heger's  husband,  and  was  at  that  time," 
she  replied,  with  a  little  angry  toss  of  the  head.  After 
this  terrible  revelation  there  was  nothing  more  to  be 
said. 

She  led  the  way  through  a  narrow  passage,  and  open- 
ing a  door  at  the  end,  we  stepped  into  the  garden. 
We  had  passed  the  class-rooms  on  our  right  —  where, 
"  on  the  last  row,  in  the  quietest  corner,"  Charlotte 
and  Emily  used  to  sit.  We  could  almost  see  the  pale 
faces,  the  shy  figures  bending  over  the  desk  in  the 
gathering  dusk. 


120  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

The  garden  is  less  spacious  than  it  was  in  Charlotte's 
time,  new  class-rooms  having  been  added,  which  cut 
off  something  from  its  length.  But  ,tU(B  whole  place 
was  strangely  familiar  and  pleasant  to  our  eyes.  Shut 
in  by  surrounding  houses,  more  than  one  window  over- 
looks its  narrow  space.  Down  its  length  upon  one 
side  extends  the  shaded  walk,  the  "  alUe  d^fendue^^ 
which  Charlotte  paced  alone  so  many  weary  hours, 
when  Emily  had  returned  to  England.  Parallel  to 
this  is  the  row  of  giant  pear  trees,  —  huge,  misshapen, 
gnarled,  —  that  bore  no  fruit  to  us  but  associations 
vivid  as  memories.  From  behind  these,  in  the  sum- 
mer twilight,  the  ghost  of  Yillette  was  wont  to  steal, 
and  buried  at  the  foot  of  "  Methuselah,"  the  oldest,  we 
knew  poor  Lucy's  love-letters  were  hidden  to-day.  A 
seat  here  and  there,  a  few  scattered  shrubs,  evergreen, 
laurel,  and  yew,  scant  blossoms,  paths  damp,  green- 
crusted —  that  was  all.  Not  a  cheerful  place  at  its 
brightest;  not  a  sunny  spot  associated  in  one's  mind 
with  summer  and  girlish  voices.  It  was  very  still  that 
day ;  the  pupils  were  off  for  the  long  vacation,  and  yet 
how  full  the  place  was  to  us !  The  very  leaves  over- 
head, the  stones  in  the  walls  around  us,  whispered  a 
story,  as  we  walked  to  and  fro  where  little  feet,  that 
tired  even  then  of  life's  rough  way,  had  gone  long  years 
before. 

"  May  we  take  one  leaf —  only  one  ?  "  we  asked,  as 
we  turned  away. 

"  As  many  as  you  please ; "  and  the  little  French  wo- 
man grasped  at  the  leaves  growing  thick  and  dark 
above  her  head.  We  plucked  them  with  our  own 
hands,  tenderly,  almost  reverently;  then,  with  many 
thanks,  and  our  adieus,  we  came  away. 


A    VISIT  TO  BRUSSELS.  121 

"  We  have  found  it ! "  we  exclaimed,  when  we  had 
returned  to  the  hotel  and  our  friends.  They  only 
smiled  their  unbelief. 

"  Do  you  not  know  —  can  you  not  see  —  O,  do 
you  not  feel  ?  "  we  cried,  displaying  our  glistening 
trophies,  "  that  these  could  have  grown  nowhere  but 
upon  the  pear  trees  in  the  old  garden  where  Charlotte 
Bronte  used  to  walk  and  dream  ?  " 

And  our  words  carried  conviction  to  their  hearts. 


122  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 


CHAPTER  X. 

WATEELOO   AND    THROUGH   BELGIUM. 

To  Waterloo.  —  Beggars  and  guides.  —  The  Mound.  —  Chateau 
Hougomont.  —  Victor    Hugo's   "sunken    road."  —  Antwerp. 

—  A  visit  to  the  cathedral.  —  A  drive  about  the  city.  —  An 
excursion  to  Ghent.  —  The  funeral  services  in  the  cathedral. 

—  "Poisoned?  Ah,  poor  man!"  —  The  watch-tower. — 
The  Friday-market  square. — The  nunnery. — Longfellow's 
pilgrims  to  "  the  belfry  of  Bruges." 

WE  could  not  leave  the  city  without  driving  out 
to  the  battle-field  of  Waterloo.  It  is  about  a 
dozen  miles  to  The  Mound,  and  you  may  take  the  pub- 
lic coach  if  you  choose  —  it  runs  daily.  Our  party  be- 
ing large,  we  preferred  to  engage  a  caniage. 

We  left  the  house  after  breakfast,  and  passed  through 
the  wide,  delightful  avenues  of  the  Foret  de  Soignes, — 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne  of  Brussels,  —  then  across  the 
peaceful  country  which  seemed  never  to  have  known 
anything  so  disturbing  as  war.  Beyond  the  park  lies 
the  village  which  gave  its  name  to  the  battle-field^ 
though  the  thickest  of  the  fight  was  not  there.  In  an 
old  brick  church,  surmounted  by  a  dome,  lie  intombed 
many  minor  heroes  of  the  conflict.  But  heroes  soon 
pall  upon  the  taste,  and  nothing  less  than  Wellington 
or  Napoleon  himself  could  have  awakened  a  spark  of 


WATERLOO  AND   THROUGH  BELGIUM.     123 

interest  in  us  by  this  time.  Then,  too,  the  vivid  pres- 
ent blinded  us  to  the  past.  The  air  was  sweet  with 
summer  scents.  Mowers  were  busy  in  the  hayfields. 
A  swarm  of  h'ttle  barefooted  beggars  importuned  us, 
turning  dizzy  somersaults  until  we  could  see  only  a 
maze  of  flying,  dusty  feet  on  either  side.  One  troop, 
satisfied  or  despairing,  gave  way  to  another,  and  the 
guides  were  almost  as  annoying  as  the  beggars.  They 
walk  for  miles  out  of  their  villages  to  forestall  each 
other,  and  meet  the  carriages  that  are  sure  to  come 
from  Brussels  on  pleasant  days.  They  drive  sharp  bar- 
gains. As  you  near  the  centre  of  interest,  competition 
is  greater,  and  their  demands  proportionately  less.  We 
refused  the  extortionate  overtures  of  two  or  three,  and 
finally  picked  up  a  shrewd-faced  young  fellow  in  a  blue 
blouse,  who  hung  upon  the  step  of  the  carriage,  or  ran 
beside  it  for  the  last  mile  or  two  of  the  distance.  The 
village  of  Mont  St.  Jean  follows  that  of  Waterloo.  It 
is  only  a  scant  collection  of  whitewashed  farm  build- 
ings of  brick.  We  rolled  through  it  without  stopping, 
and  out  again  between  the  quiet,  smiling  fields,  our 
minds  utterly  refusing  to  grasp  the  idea  that  they 
had  swarmed  once  with  an  army ;  that  in  this  little 
village  we  had  just  left —  dull,  half  asleep  in  the  sun- 
shine —  dreadful  slaughter  had  held  high  carnival  one 
July  day,  not  many  years  before.  Even  when  the  guide, 
clinging  to  the  door  of  the  carriage,  rattled  over  the 
story  of  the  struggle  in  a  patois  all  his  own,  hardly  a 
shadow  of  the  scene  was  presented  to  us. 

As  our  horses  slackened  their  pace,  he  stepped  down 
from  his  perch  to  gather  a  nosegay  of  the  flowers  by 
the  road-side,  making  no  pause  in  his  mechanical  narrar 


124  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

live  —  of  how  the  Anglo-Belgian  army  were  gathered 
upon  this  road  and  the  fields  back  to  the  wood,  on 
the  last  day  of  the  fight ;  how  many  of  the  officers  had 
been  called  at  a  moment's  notice  from  the  gayeties  at 
Brussels,  and  more  than  one  was  found  dead  upon  the 
field  the  next  day,  under  the  soaking  rain,  dressed  as 
for  a  ball.  He  pushed  back  his  visorless  cap,  uttering 
an  exclamation  over  the  heat,  and  adding,  in  the  same 
breath,  that  just  here,  about  Mont  St.  Jean,  the  battle 
waged  fiercely  in  the  afternoon,  when  Ney,  with  his 
brave  cuirassiers,  tried  in  vain  to  carry  the  position ; 
and  all  the  time,  the  summer  sounds  of  twittering 
birds  and  hum  of  locusts  were  in  our  ears ;  the  bare- 
footed children  still  turned  upon  their  axles  beside  the 
carriage  wheels  as  we  rolled  along,  and  that  other  day 
seemed  so  far  away,  that  we  could  neither  bring  it 
near  nor  realize  it.  One  grim  reminder  of  the  past 
rose  in  the  distance,  and,  as  we  drew  near,  swelled  and 
grew  before  our  eyes.  It  was  the  huge  mound  of  eartli 
raised  two  hundred  feet,  to  commemorate  the  victory 
of  the  allies.  Hills  were  cut  down,  the  very  face  of 
nature  changed  for  miles  around,  to  rear  this  monu- 
ment to  pride  and  vain-glory.  Upon  its  summit 
crouches  the  Belgian  lion. 

We  turn  from  the  paved  road,  when  we  have 
reached  what  seems  to  be  a  mass  of  unsightly  ruins, 
with  only  a  tumbling  outbuilding  left  here  and  there. 
The  whole  is  enclosed  by  a  wall,  which  skirts  also  an 
orchard,  neglected,  gi'own  to  weeds.  The  carriage 
stops  before  the  gi'eat  gates.  It  is  very  cool  and  quiet 
in  the  shaded  angle  of  the  battered  wall  as  we  step 
down.    It  has  been  broken  and  chipped  as  if  by  pick- 


WATERLOO  AND   THROUGH  BELGIUM.      125 

axes.  Ah !  the  shot  struck  hardest  here.  The  top  of 
the  low  wall  is  irregular  ;  the  bricks  have  been  knocked 
out ;  the  dust  has  sifted  down ;  the  mosses  have 
gathered,  and  a  fringe  of  grass  follows  all  its  length. 
Even  sweet  wild  flowers  blossom  where  the  muskets 
rested  in  those  dreadful  days.  At  intervals,  half  way 
up  its  height,  a  brick  is  missing.  Accident  ?  Ah,  no  ; 
hastily  constructed  loopholes,  through  which  the 
English  fired  at  first,  before  the  horrible  time  when 
they  beat  each  other  down  with  the  butts  of  their 
guns  while  they  fought  hand  to  hand  here,  like  wild 
beasts. 

We  enter  the  court-yard.  Only  a  roughly  plastered 
room  or  two  remain,  where  the  greed  that  gloats  even 
over  the  field  of  blood  offers  souvenirs  of  the  place 
importunately.  In  the  centre  of  this  coui*t-yard  may 
still  be  seen  the  well  that  was  filled  with  corpses.  It 
must  have  given  out  blood  for  many  a  day.  Upon 
one  side  are  the  remains  of  the  building  used  for  a 
hospital  in  the  beginning  of  the  fight,  but  where  the 
wounded  and  dying  perished  in  torment,  when  the 
French  succeeded  in  firing  the  chateau;  for  this  is 
Hougomont. 

We  came  out  at  the  gateway  where  we  had  entered ; 
crossed  the  slope  under  the  shadow  of  the  branches 
from  the  apple  trees,  and  followed  the  road  winding 
through  wheat-fields  to  The  Mound.  Breast-high  on 
either  side  rose  the  nodding  crests ;  and  among  them 
wild  flowers,  purple,  scarlet,  and  blue,  fairly  dazzled 
our  eyes,  as  they  waved  with  the  golden  grain  in  the 
sunshine.  "  O,  smiling  harvest-fields,"  we  said,  "  you 
have  been  sown  with  heroes ;  you  have  been  enriched 
with  blood!" 


126  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

It  was  a  long,  dizzy  climb  up  the  face  of  The  Mound 
to  the  narrow  foothold  beside  the  platform  where 
rests  that  grim,  gigantic  lion.  Once  there,  we  held  to 
every  possible  support  in  the  hurricane  of  wind  that 
seized  us,  while  the  guide  gave  a  name  to  each  historic 
farm  and  village  spread  out  before  our  eyes.  Only  a 
couple  of  miles  cover  all  the  battle-field  —  the  smallest 
where  gi-and  armies  ever  met ;  but  the  slaughter  was 
the  more  temble. 

Connected  with  an  inn  at  the  foot  of  The  Mound  is 
a  museum  of  curiosities.  Here  are  queer  old  helmets 
worn  by  the  cuirassiers,  hacked  and  rust-stained ;  bro- 
ken swords,  and  old-fashioned  muskets;  buttons,  and 
bullets  even  —  everything  that  could  be  garnered  after 
such  a  sowing  of  the  earth. 

In  unquestioning  faith  we  bought  buttons  stained 
with  mildew,  and  bearing  upon  them,  in  raised  letters, 
the  number  of  a  regiment.  Alas  !  reason  told  us,  later, 
that  the  buttons  disposed  of  annually  here  would  sup- 
ply an  ordinary  army.  And  rumor  added,  that  they 
Jire  buried  now  in  quantities,  to  be  exhumed  as  often 
as  the  supply  fails. 

I  remembered  Victor  Hugo  to  have  said  in  Les  Mi- 
serables  something  in  regard  to  a  sunken  road  here, 
which  proved  a  pitfall  to  the  French,  and  helped,  in 
his  judgment,  to  turn  the  fortunes  of  the  day.  But 
we  had  seen  no  sunken  road.  I  mentioned  it  to  the 
guide,  who  said  that  Victor  Hugo  spent  a  fortnight  ex- 
amining the  ground  before  writing  that  description  of 
the  battle.  "  He  lodged  at  our  house,"  he  added.  "  My 
father  was  his  guide.  What  he  wrote  was  all  quite 
true.    There  is  now  no   road   such  as  he  described  ; 


WATERLOO  AND   THROUGH  BELGIUM.      127 

that  was  all  changed  when  the  earth  was  scraped  to- 
gether to  form  The  Mound." 

We  lunched  at  the  inn,  surrounded  by  mementos 
and  trophies,  and  served  by  an  elderly  woman,  whose 
father  had  been  a  sergeant  in  the  Belgian  army,  then 
late  in  the  afternoon  drove  back  to  town. 

The  pleasant  days  at  Brussels  soon  slipped  by,  and 
then  we  were  off  to  Antwerp  —  only  an  hour's  ride. 
I  will  tell  you  nothing  about  the  former  wealth  and 
commercial  activity  of  the  city  —  that  in  the  sixteenth 
century  it  was  the  wealthiest  city  in  Europe,  &c.,  &c. 
For  all  these  interesting  particulars,  see  MuiTay's  Hand- 
book of  Northern  Germany.  As  soon  as  we  had  so- 
cured  rooms  at  the  hotel,  dropped  our  satchels  and 
umbrellas,  we  followed  the  chimes  to  the  cathedral. 
The  houses  of  the  people  have  crept  close  to  it,  until 
many  of  them,  old  and  gray,  have  fairly  gTown  to  it, 
like  barnacles  to  a  ship ;  or  it  seemed  as  though  they 
had  built  their  nests,  like  the  rooks,  under  the  moss- 
grown  eaves.  The  interior  of  the  cathedral  was  sin- 
gularly grand  and  open.  As  we  threw  our  shawls 
about  us  —  a  precaution  never  omitted  —  an  old  man 
shuffled  out  from  a  dark  corner  to  show  the  church, 
take  owe  francs^  and  pull  aside  the  curtains  from  before 
the  principal  pictures,  if  so  dignified  a  name  as  curtain 
can  be  applied  to  the  dusty,  brown  cambric  that  ob- 
structed our  vision.  Rubens's  finest  pictures  are  here, 
and  indeed  the  city  abounds  in  all  that  is  best  of  Flem- 
ish art,  —  most  justly,  since  it  was  the  birthplace  of  its 
master.  Rubens  in  the  flesh  we  had  seen  at  the 
Louvre ;  the  spiritual  manifestation  was  reserved  for 
Antwerp ;  and  to  recall  the  city  is  to  recall  a  series  of 
visions  of  which  one  may  not  speak  lightly. 


128  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Across  from  the  cathedral,  upon  a  wide  wooden 
bench  in  the  market-place  we  sat  a  moment  to  con- 
sider om*  ways  —  the  signal  for  the  immediate  swoop- 
ing down  upon  us  of  guides  and  carriages,  and  the 
result  of  which  was,  our  departure  in  a  couple  of  dingy 
open  vehicles  to  finish  the  city.  We  crawled  about 
the  town  like  a  diminutive  funeral  procession,  dis- 
mounting at  the  Church  of  St.  Jacques  to  see  the  pic- 
tures, with  which  it  is  filled.  In  one  of  the  chapels 
was  a  young  American  artist,  copying  Rubens's  picture 
of  "  A  Holy  Family  "  —  the  one  in  which  his  two  wives 
and  others  of  his  family  enact  the  part  of  Mary,  Mar- 
tha, St.  Jerome,  <fcc.  Behind  the  high  altar  is  the 
tomb  of  Rubens,  with  an  inscription  of  suflicient  length 
to  extinguish  an  ordinary  man.  There  was  a  museum, 
too,  in  the  city,  rich  in  the  works  of  Rubens  and  Vandyck, 
and  the  fine  park  in  the  new  part  of  the  town,  as  well 
as  the  massive  docks  built  by  the  first  Napoleon,  were 
yet  to  be  seen.  The  older  members  of  the  party 
were  in  the  first  carriage,  and  received  any  amount  of 
valuable  information,  which  was  transmitted  to  us  who 
followed  in  a  succession  of  shouts  sounding  as  much 
like  "  fire ! "  as  anything  else,  with  all  manner  of  beck- 
oning, and  pointing,  and  wild  throwing  up  of  arms,  that 
undoubtedly  gave  vent  to  their  feelings,  but  brought 
only  confusion  and  distraction  to  our  minds.  Not  to 
be  outdone,  our  driver  began  a  series  of  utterly  unintel- 
ligible explanations,  the  only  part  of  which  we  under- 
stood in  the  least  was,  when  pointing  to  the  docks,  he 
ejaculated,  "Najjoleon!"  At  that  we  nodded  our 
heads  frantically,  which  only  encouraged  him  to  go  on. 
Pausing  before  a  low,  black  house,  exactly  like  all  the 


WATERLOO  AND  THROUGH  BELGIUM.       129 

Others,  he  pointed  to  it  with  his  whip.  It  said  "  Hy- 
draulics "  upon  a  rickety  sign  over  the  door.  There 
were  old  casks,  and  anchors,  and  ropes,  and  rotting 
wood  all  around,  for  it  was  down  upon  the  wharves. 
We  tried  to  look  enlightened,  gratified  even,  and  suc- 
ceeded so  well  that  he  entered  upon  an  elaborate  dis- 
sertation in  an  unknown  tongue.  What  do  you  sup- 
pose it  was  all  about  ?  Can  it  be  that  he  was  explain- 
ing the  principles  of  hydraulics  ? 

We  made,  one  day,  an  excursion  from  Antwerp  to 
Ghent  and  Bruges.  We  left  the  train  at  Ghent  to 
walk  up  through  the  narrow  streets,  that  have  no  side- 
walks, to  the  cathedral.  There  was  a  funeral  within. 
The  driver  of  the  hearse  profusely  decorated  with  in- 
verted feather  dusters,  was  comfortably  smoking  his 
pipe  outside.  A  little  hunchbacked  guide,  with  great, 
glassy  eyes,  and  teeth  like  yellow  fangs,  led  us  up  the 
aisle  to  the  screen  beside  the  high  altar,  where  we 
looked  between  the  tombs  and  the  monuments,  upon 
the  long  procession  of  men  circling  around  the  coffin 
in  the  choir,  each  with  a  lighted  candle  in  hand.  As 
there  were  only  about  a  dozen  candles  in  all,  and  each 
must  hold  one  while  he  passed  the  coffin,  it  was  a  piece 
of  dexterity,  at  least,  to  manage  them,  which  so  en- 
grossed our  attention,  that  we  caught  but  an  occasional 
sentence  from  our  guide's  whisj^ered  story  of  the 
seventh  bishop  of  Ghent,  who  donated  the  pulpit  to  the 
cathedral,  and  around  whose  marble  feet  we  were  try- 
ing to  peep;  of  the  ninth,  who  was  poisoned  as  he  went 
upon  some  mission  ("Poisoned?  Ah, poor  man  !"  we 
ejaculated,  absently,  our  eyes  anxiously  fixed  upon  one 
man  to  whom  had  been  given  no  candle  as  yet)  ;  of  the 
9 


130  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

tall  brass  candlesticks,  supposed  to  have  been  brought 
from  England  in  the  time  of  Cromwell,  and  a  host  more 
of  fragmentary  information,  forgotten  now.  The  whole 
interior  of  the  church  is  rich  in  decoration,  black  and 
white  marble  predominating,  with  pictures  of  the  early- 
Flemish  school  filling  every  available  space.  Once  out 
of  the  church,  we  climbed  into  an  ark  of  a  carriage,  and 
drove  about  the  city,  our  little  guide  standing  beside 
the  driver,  back  to  the  horses  most  of  the  time,  to 
pour  out  a  torrent  of  histoiy  and  romance.  A  most 
edifying  spectacle  it  would  have  been  anywhere  else. 
Do  read  Henry  Taylor's  "  Philip  von  Aitevelde  "  be- 
fore going  to  Ghent :  the  mingled  romance  and  his- 
tory throw  a  charm  about  the  place  and  people  which 
bare  history  can  never  give.  Veritable  Yankees  these 
old  Flemish  weavers  seem  to  have  been,  with  a  touch 
of  the  Irish  in  their  composition  —  always  up  in  arms 
for  their  rights,  and  striking  out  wherever  they  saw  a 
head.  There  is  a  new  part  to  the  city,  with  a  grand 
opera-house,  shaded  promenades  and  palatial  dwellings, 
but  one  cares  only  for  the  narrow,  dingy  streets,  and 
the  old  market  squares,  in  which  every  stone  could 
tell  a  story. 

Wc  saw  the  tall,  brick  watch-tower,  where  still  hangs 
the  bell  that  tolled,  — 

"  I  am  Roland,  I  am  Roland !    There  is  victory  in  the  land," 

and  the  old  Hotel  de  Ville,  of  conglomerate  architec- 
ture, one  side  of  which,  in  the  loveliest  'flamboyant 
Gothic  imaginable,  seems  crumbling  away  from  its  very 
richness.  In  the  Friday-market  square  ■ —  it  chancing 
to  be  Friday  —  was  a  score  of  bustling  busybodies, 


WATERLOO  AND   THROUGH  BELGIUM.       131 

swarming  like  bees.  Here,  in  the  old,  quarrelsome  times, 
battles  were  fought  between  the  different  guilds.  I  say- 
battles,  because  at  one  time  fifteen  hundred  were  slain 
in  this  very  square.  Such  a  peaceful  old  square  as  it 
seemed  to  be  the  day  of  our  visit !  the  old  gi*ay  houses, 
that  have  echoed  to  the  sound  of  strife,  fairly  smiling  in 
the  sunshine,  and  the  market  women  kneeling  upon  the 
stones  which  have  run  with  blood.  At  one  comer  rose 
a  tower,  and  half  way  up  its  height  may  still  oe  seen 
the  iron  rod,  over  which  was  hung  imperfect  linen,  to 
shame  the  weaver  who  had  dared  to  offer  it  in  the 
market. 

There  is  a  great  nunnery  here  in  Ghent  —  a  town 
of  itself,  surrounded  by  a  moat  and  a  wall,  where  are 
six  hundred  or  more  sisters,  from  families  high  and 
low,  who  tend  the  sick,  weave  lace,  and  mortify  the 
flesh  in  black  robes  and  white  veils.  When  they  be- 
come weary  of  it,  they  may  return  to  the  world,  the 
flesh,  and  —  their  homes:  no  vows  bind  them.  We 
drove  along  the  streets  past  the  cell-like  houses  where 
they  dwell.  Over  the  door  of  each  was  the  name  of 
her  patron  saint.  It  seemed  a  quiet  retreat,  a  noiseless 
city,  notwithstanding  the  six  hundred  women!  But 
by  far  the  most  interesting  sight,  because  the  most 
ancient  in  the  quaint  old  city,  was  the  archway  and 
turret  of  the  old  royal  castle,  erected  a  thousand  years 
ago  ;  only  this  gateway  remains.  Here  John  o'  Gaunt 
was  bom.  Built  all  round,  and  joined  to  it,  are  houses 
of  more  recent  date,  themselves  old  and  tottering,  and 
the  arch  beneath  which  kings  and  queens  rode  once,  is 
now  the  entrance  to  a  cotton  factoiy. 

We  had  only  a  few  hours  at  Bruges  —  the  city  once 


132  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

more  powerful  than  Antweq^  even,  but  where  not  a 
house  has  been  raised  for  a  hundred  years,  and  where 
nearly  a  third  of  its  inhabitants  are  paupers.  But  de- 
cay and  dilapidation  are  strong  elements  of  the  pic- 
turesque, and  nothing  seen  that  day  was  more  charm- 
ing than  a  piece  of  wall,  still  standing,  belonging  to 
the  old  Charles  V.'s  palace  —  honey-combed,  black, 
of  florid  Gothic  architecture,  rising  from  the  quiet 
waters  of  the  canal.  At  one  end  it  threw  an  arch 
over  the  street,  with  a  latticed  window  above  it,  be- 
neath which  we  passed,  after  crossing  the  bridge. 
More  than  one  picture  of  Bruges  rests  within  my 
memory  —  its  canals  spanned  by  the  picturesque 
bridges,  and  overhung  with  willows  that  dipped 
their  long  branches  into  the  water,  and  the  quaint  old 
houses  with  many-stepped  gables,  rising  sheer  from 
the  stream. 

But  with  all  its  past  grandeur,  the  old  city  is  best 
known  to  us  Americans  through  the  chimes  from  its 
belfry  tower,  and  we  were  some  of  Longfellow's  pil- 
grims. We  drove  into  the  great  paved  Place  under 
the  shadow  of  the  belfry  tower  when  its  shadows  were 
growing  long,  and  watched  the  stragglers  across  the 
square  —  women  in  queer  black-hooded  cloaks ;  chubby 
little  blue-eyed  maidens  with  school-books  in  hand  ;  a 
party  of  tourists  ;  and  last,  but  by  no  means  least,  the 
ubiquitous  American  girl,  with  an  immense  bOwon  the 
back  of  her  dress,  and  her  eye  fixed  steadily  upon  the 
milliner's  shop  just  visible  around  the  comer.  Almost 
three  hundred  feet  the  dingy  brick  tower  rose  above 
us,  with  low  wings  on  either  side,  where  were  once  the 
halls  of  some  guilds,  in  the  days  when  the  tower  was 


WATERLOO  AND   THROUGH  BELGIUM.  133 

a  lookout  to  warn  of  coming  foes, — when  the  square 
was  planned  for  defence.  In  a  little  court-yard,  gained 
by  passing  under  its  arch,  we  watched  and  listened, 
until  at  last  the  sweet  tinkle  of  the  silver-toned  bells 
broke  the  hush  of  waiting  —  so  far  away,  so  heavenly, 
we  held  our  breath,  lest  we  should  lose  the  sound 
that  fell 

"  Like  the  psalms  from  some  old  cloister  when  the  nuns  sing  in 
the  choir, 
And  the  great  bell  tolled  among  them  like  the  chanting  of  9, 
friar."        * 

We  came  back  to  Antwerp  that  night,  tired,  but  tri- 
umphant, feeling  as  though  we  had  read  a  page  from 
an  old  book,  or  sung  a  strain  from  an  old  song. 


134  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 


CHAPTER  XL 

A   TEIP   THEOUGH   HOLLAND. 

Up  the  Meuse  to  Rotterdam. —Dutch  Bights  and  ways.— The 
pretty  milk-carriers.  —  The  tea-gardens.  —  Preparations  for 
the  Sabbath.  —  An  EngUsh  chapel. —  "The  Lord's  bam."  — 
From  Rotterdam  to  the  Hague.  —  The  queen's  "  House  in  the 
"Wood.** —  Pictures  in  private  drawing-rooms.  —  The  bazaar.  — 
An  evening  in  a  Dutch  tea-garden.  —  Amsterdam  to  a  stran- 
ger.— The  "sights."  —  The  Jews*  quarter. — The  family 
whose  home  was  upon  tlie  canals.  —  Out  of  the  city.  —  The 
pilgrims. 

AT  nine  o'clock,  the  next  morning,  we  left  Ant- 
werp for  Rotterdam.  Two  hours  by  rail  brought 
us  to  a  place  with  an  unpronounceable  name,  ending  in 
"  djk,"  where  we  were  to  take  a  steamer.  How  delight- 
ful, after  the  dust  and  heat  of  the  railway  carriage, 
were  the  two  hours  that  followed!  The  day  was 
charming,  the  passengers  numerous,  but  scattered 
about  the  clean,  white  deck,  picturesquely,  upon  the 
little  camp  stools,  drinking  brandy  and  water  as  a  pre- 
ventive to  what  seemed  impossible,  eating  fruit,  read- 
ing, chatting,  or  pleased,  like  ourselves,  with  the  pan- 
orama before  their  eyes.  In  and  out  of  the  intricate 
passages  to  the  sea  we  steamed,  the  land  and  water  all 
around  us  level  as  a  floor ;  the  only  sign  of  life  the 


A    TRIP   THROUGH  HOLLAND,  135 

slaw-revolving  ai-ms  of  the  windmills,  near  and  far, 
with  here  and  there  a  solitary  mansion  shut  in  by  tall 
trees;  or,  as  we  wound  in  and  out  among  the  islands 
fringed  with  green  rushes,  and  waving  grasses  that  fairly 
came  out  into  the  water  to  meet  us,  and  sailed  up  the 
Meuse,  the  odd  Dutch  villages  that  had  turned  their 
backs  to  the  river,  though  their  feet  were  still  in  the 
water  over  which  hung  rude  wooden  balconies,  or  still 
ruder  bay-windows,  filled  with  pots  of  flowers.  This 
monotonous  stretch  of  sea  and  land  might  grow  tire- 
some after  a  while,  but  there  was  something  peculiarly 
restful  in  that  sail  up  the  wide  mouth  of  the  river, 
beckoned  on  by  the  solemn  arms  of  the  windmills. 

When  we  reached  Rotterdam,  how  strange  it  was  to 
find,  instead  of  a  row  of  houses  across  from  our  hotel, 
a  wharf  and  a  row  of  ships !  Such  a  great,  comfortable 
room  as  awaited  us!  with  deep,  wide  arm-chairs,  a 
heavy  round  table  suggesting  endless  teas,  and  toast 
unlimited,  and  everything  else  after  the  same  hearty, 
substantial  manner.  There  was  no  paper  upon  the 
walls,  but,  in  its  place,  paintings  upon  canvas.  Delilah 
sat  over  the  mantel,  with  the  head  of  the  sleeping  Sam- 
son in  her  lap,  and  Rebekah  and  the  thirsty  camels 
were  behind  our  bed  curtains.  From  the  wide  win- 
dows we  watched  the  loading  and  unloading  of  the 
ships,  while  the  song  of  the  sailors  came  in  on  the  even- 
ing breeze,  and  with  it,  we  half-fancied,  the  odor  of 
sandal-wood  and  spices  from  the  East  Indiamen  an- 
chored across  the  way.  Our  hotel  was  upon  the 
Boorapjes,  the  quay  that  borders  the  river;  but 
through  nearly  all  the  streets  flow  the  canals,  deep 
enough  to  float  large  ships.    You  can  appreciate  the 


136  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

advantage  of  sailing  a  ship  to  the  very  door  of  one's 
warehouse,  as  you  might  drive  a  cart  up  to  unload; 
and  you  can  imagine,  perhaps,  the  peculiar  appearance 
of  the  city,  with  its  mingled  masts  and  chimneys,  its 
irregular,  but  by  no  means  picturesque,  houses,  and 
the  inhabitants  equally  at  home  upon  water  or  land. 
Among  the  women  of  the  lower  classes  may  still  be 
seen  some  national  peculiarities  in  dress,  shown  princi- 
pally in  the  startling  ornaments  —  twisted  gold  wire 
horns,  and  balls,  and  rings  of  mammoth  size  thrust  out 
from  their  caps  just  above  their  ears.  Whether  their 
bare  red  arms  would  come  under  the  head  of  dress, 
might  be  questioned ;  but  a  national  peculiarity  they 
certainly  were,  and  unlike  anything  ever  seen  before 
in  the  way  of  human  flesh.  Was  that  painfully  deep 
magenta  hue  nature  or  art?  We  could  never  tell. 
There  were  some  very  pretty  faces  among  the  girls 
carrying  milk  about  the  city  in  bright  brass  cans,  or  in 
pails  suspended  from  a  yoke  over  their  shoulders  — 
faces  of  one  type,  round,  red-cheeked,  blue-eyed,  with 
the  mouth  called  rosebud  by  poets,  and  bewitching 
little  brown  noses  of  an  upward  tendency.  As  they  all 
wore  clean  purple  calico  gowns,  and  had  each  a  small 
white  cap  on  their  heads,  the  resemblance  among  them 
was  rather  striking.  These  caps  left  the  whole  top  of 
the  head  exposed  to  the  sun.  Only  an  iron-clad,  fire- 
proof brain  could  endure  it,  I  am  sure. 

Not  a  beggar  did  we  see  anywhere  in  Holland. 
The  people  seemed  thoroughly  industrious  and  thrifty. 
A  gentleman  connected  with  the  civil  service  there  — 
an  agreeable,  cultivated  man,  who  had  been  half  over 
the  world,  written  a  book  or  two,  and  parted  his  hair  in 


A    TRIP  THROUGH  HOLLAND.  137 

the  middle  —  gave  the  people  credit  for  all  these,  with 
many  more  good  qualities,  and  added,  "They  are  the 
simplest  minded  people  in  the  world.  Why,  would  you 
believe  it,  one  of  the  canal  bridges  was  run  into  and 
broken  down,  the  other  day,  —  a  fortnight  ago,  —  and 
it  has  been  town  talk  ever  since.  No  two  men  meet 
upon  the  street  without,  '  Have  you  heard  about  the 
bridge?'"  And  sure  enough,  when  we  reached  the 
scene  of  the  accident,  in  our  after-dinner  walk  through 
the  city,  quite  a  crowd  was  collected  to  watch  the  pas- 
sage of  a  temporary  ferry-boat,  the  simplest  contrivance 
imaginable,  only  an  old  barge  pulled  back  and  forth  by 
ropes.  Still  later  we  found  the  entrance  to  a  narrow 
street  choked  with  people,  though  nothing  more  unu- 
sual seemed  to  be  taking  place  than  the  bringing  out 
of  a  table  and  a  few  chairs. 

Upon  the  outskirts  of  the  city  are  pleasant  teargar- 
dens,  often  attached  to  club-rooms,  where  concerts  are 
held  Sunday  evenings,  attended  by  the  upper  classes. 
We  walked  through  one,  over  the  pebbled  paths,  and 
among  the  deserted  tables,  and  then  returned  to  see 
more  of  the  town.  It  was  Saturday  night.  All  the 
little  girls  upon  the  street  had  their  locks  twisted  up 
in  papers  so  tight  and  fast  that  they  could  shut  neither 
eyes  nor  mouth,  but  seemed  to  be  in  a  continual  state 
of  wonderment.  All  their  mothers  were  down  upon 
their  hands  and  knees,  scrubbing  the  doorsteps  and 
sidewalk,  in  preparation  for  the  Sabbath.  The  streets 
were  dirty  and  uninviting  with  a  few  exceptions,  yet 
hardly  more  so  than  could  be  expected,  when  you 
remember  that  nearly  the  whole  city  is  a  line  of 
wharves ;  but  we  felt  no  disposition  to  walk  through 


138  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

it  in  oar  slippers,  as  the  guide-book  in  praising  its 
cleanliness,  says  you  may.  What  an  advantage  it 
would  be  to  the  world  if  the  compilers  of  guide- 
books would  only  visit  the  places  they  describe  so 
graphically!  We  spent  a  quiet  Sabbath  here  —  the 
fourth  of  July  —  with  not  so  much  as  a  toi-pedo  to  dis- 
turb its  serenity  or  mark  the  day,  attending  church  at 
the  English  chapel,  and  joining  in  the  responses  led  by 
a  clear  soprano  voice  behind  us,  which  we  had  some 
desire  to  locate ;  but  when  we  turned,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  service,  there  was  only  a  row  of  horrible 
chignons  to  be  seen,  to  none  of  which,  I  am  sure,  the 
voice  belonged. 

There  is  nothing  to  be  seen  in  Rotterdam  but  its 
shipping.  One  great,  bare  church  we  did  visit  —  "  the 
Lord's  bam;"  for  these  cathedrals,  stripped  of  altar, 
and  image,  and  stained  glass,  and  boarded  into  stiff 
pews,  without  the  least  regard  to  the  eternal  fitness  of 
things,  are  ugly  enough.  There  is  somewhere  here  a 
collection  of  Ary  Scheffer's  works,  —  in  the  city  I  mean, 
—  but  we  did  not  see  it.  It  is  less  than  an  hour's  ride 
by  rail  from  Rotterdam  to  the  Hague,  T\'ith  the  same 
delightfully  monotonous  scenery  all  along  the  way  — 
meadows  smooth  and  green,  and  fields  white  for  the 
harvest,  separated  by  the  almost  invisible  canals.  No 
wonder  the  Spaniards  held  the  Low  Countries  with  a 
grasp  of  iron  —  the  whole  land  is  a  garden.  The 
Hague,  being  the  residence  of  the  court,  is  much  after 
the  pattern  of  all  continental  capitals,  with  wide,  white 
streets,  white  stuccoed  houses  of  regular  and  beautiful 
appearance,  and  fine,  large  parks  and  pleasure-grounds 
filled  with  deer,  and  shaded  by  grand  old  elms  as  large 


A   TRIP  THROUGH  HOLLAND.  139 

as  those  in  our  own  land,  but  lacking  the  long,  sweeping 
branches.  A  mile  from  the  city  is  "  The  House  in  the 
"Wood,"  the  private  residence  of  the  queen  of  the 
Netherlands.  The  wood  is  heavy  and  of  funereal  air, 
but  the  little  palace  is  quite  charming  witliin,  though 
upon  the  exterior  only  a  plain  brick  country-house. 
The  rooms  are  small,  and  hung  with  rice-paper,  or  em- 
broidered white  satin,  with  which  also  much  of  the 
furniture  is  covered.  The  bare  floors  are  of  polished 
wood,  with  a  square  of  carpet  in  the  centre,  the  border 
of  which  was  worked  by  hand.  "  Please  step  over  it," 
said  the  neat  little  old  woman  who  was  showing  us 
through,  which  we  accordingly  did.  There  was  a 
home-like  air,  very  unpalatial,  about  it  all,  —  as  though 
the  lady  of  the  house  might  have  been  entertaining  call- 
ei*s,  or  having  a  dress-maker  in  the  next  room.  Deli- 
cate trinkets  were  scattered  about  —  pretty,  rare  things 
worth  a  fortune,  with  any  amount  of  old  Dutch  china 
in  the  cosy  dining-room.  In  one  of  the  rooms  hung 
the  portrait  of  a  handsome  young  man,  — just  as  there 
hang  portraits  of  handsome  young  men  in  our  houses. 
This  was  the  eldest  son  of  the  queen,  —  heir  to  the 
throne,  —  who,  rumor  says,  is  still  engaged  in  that  ag- 
ricultural pursuit  so  fascinating  to  young  men  —  the 
sowing  of  wild  oats.  In  the  next  room  was  a  portrait 
of  Queen  Sophie  herself —  a  delicate,  queenly  face  —  a 
face  of  character.  The  walls  of  the  ball-room  are  en- 
tirely covered  with  paintings  upon  wood  by  Rubens 
and  his  pupils.  "  Speak  low,  if  you  please,"-  said  our 
little  old  woman ;  "  the  queen  is  in  the  next  room,  and 
she  has  a  bad  headache  to-day."  I  am  sure  she  had  a 
dress-maker !    As  we  stooped  to  examine  a  rug  worked 


140  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

by  the  royal  fingers,  an  attendant  passed,  bearing  upon 
a  silver  salver  the  remains  of  her  majesty's  lunch. 

From  the  palace  we  drove  back  to  town  to  visit  two 
private  collections  of  paintings.  It  seemed  odd,  if  not 
impertinent,  to  walk  through  the  drawing-rooms  of 
strangers,  criticise  their  pictures,  and  fee  their  servants. 
Upon  the  table,  in  one,  were  thrown  down  carelessly 
the  bonnet  and  gloves  of  the  lady  of  the  house.  I  was 
tempted  to  carry  them  oif.  Only  a  vigorous  early 
training,  and  the  thought  of  a  long  line  of  pious  an- 
cestors, prevented.  Here  were  pictures  from  most  of 
the  earlier  and  some  of  the  later  Dutch  artists  —  Paul 
Potter's  animals,  Jan  Steen's  pots  and  pans,  Vander- 
velde's  quays  and  luggers,  and  green,  foaming  seas,  and 
even  a  touch  or  two  from  the  brush  of  the  master  of 
Dutch  art.  We  stopped  on  our  way  back  to  the  hotel, 
at  a  bazaar,  —  a  place  of  beguilement,  with  long  rooms 
full  of  everything  beautiful  in  art,  everything  tempting 
to  the  eye,  —  and  after  dinner  went  out  to  one  of  the 
adjacent  tea-gardens.  It  was  filled  with  family  parties 
drinking  tea  around  little  tables.  The  music  was  fine, 
though  unexpected  at  times,  as,  for  instance,  when  a 
trumpet  blew  a  startling  blast,  and  a  little  man  in  its 
range  sprang  from  his  seat  as  though  blown  out  of  his 
place.  It  was  amusing  and  interesting  to  watch  the 
stream  of  promenaders  circling  around  the  musicians' 
stand  —  broad,  heavily-built  men,  long  of  body,  short 
of  limbs;  women  "square-rigged,"  of  easy,  good- 
natured  countenance.  I  doubt  if  there  was  a  nerve  in 
the  whole  assembly. 

At  noon  the  next  day,  we  took  the  train  for  Amster- 
dam—  another  two  hours'  ride.  The  land  began  to  un- 


A    TRIP   THROUGH  HOLLAND.  141 

dulate  as  we  went  towards  the  sea,  with  the  shifting 
hillocks  of  sand  raised  by  wind  and  wave.  We  passed 
Leyden,  famous  for  its  resistance  to  the  Spaniards,  as 
well  as  for  having  been  the  birthplace  of  Rembrandt 
and  a  score  of  lesser  lights,  and  Haarlem,  known  for 
its  great  organ,  and  still  the  sand-hills  rose  one  above 
the  other,  until  they  shut  out  everything  beyond.  It 
was  only  when  we  made  a  sharp  turn,  and  struck  out 
in  a  straight  line  for  the  city,  that  the  Zuyder  Zee 
opened  before  us,  the  curving  line  of  land  along  its 
edge  alive  with  windmills.  We  counted  a  hundred 
and  twenty  in  sight  at  one  time,  and  still  did  not 
exhaust  them ;  so  many  skipped  and  whirled  about,  and 
refused  to  be  counted.  It  hardly  seems  possible  that 
the  city  of  Amsterdam  is  built  upon  piles  driven  into 
the  sand  and  mud.  Certainly,  when  you  have  been 
jolted  and  shaken  until  your  teeth  chatter,  for  a  long 
mile,  in  one  of  the  hotel  omnibuses  from  the  station 
through  the  narrow  streets  and  over  the  rough  pave- 
ments, you  will  think  there  must  be  a  tolerably  firm 
foundation.  Such  a  peaceful,  sleepy,  free-from-danger 
air,  these  slimy  canals  give  to  the  cities!  You  forget 
that  just  beyond  the  dikes  the  mighty,  restless  sea 
lurks,  and  watches  day  and  night  for  a  chance  to  rush 
in  and  claim  its  own.  The  canals  run  in  a  succession 
of  curves,  one  within  the  other,  all  through  the  city. 
Upon  the  quays  are  the  dwellings  and  warehouses.  In 
the  narrow  streets,  crossing  them  by  means  of  end- 
less bridges,  are  the  shops  and  dwellings  of  the  lower 
classes.  Looking  down  a  street,  no  two  houses  present 
an  unbroken  line.  They  have  all  settled  in  their  places 
until  they  nod,  and  leer,  and  wink  at  each  othei",  in  a 


142  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

decidedly  sociable,  intoxicated  manner.  The  whole 
city,  to  a  stranger,  is  a  curious  sight  —  the  arched 
bridges  over  the  interminable  canals ;  the  clumsy  boats 
(for  the  canals  are  too  shallow  to  admit  anything  but 
coasters  and  river  boats) ;  the  antic  and  antiquated 
houses  with  high  gables,  rising  in  steps,  to  the  street ; 
the  women  of  the  lower  classes,  with  yokes  over  their 
shoulders,  and  long-eared  white  caps  on  their  heads, 
surmounted  by  naked  straw  bonnets  of  obsolete  fash- 
ion and  coal-scuttle  shape,  and  out  and  from  which,  on 
either  side,  protruded  all  the  wonderful  tinkling  orna- 
ments of  which  the  prophet  speaks ;  the  long  quays 
and  streets  utterly  bare  of  trees ;  the  iron  rods  thrust 
out  ii'om  the  houses  half  way  up  their  height,  upon 
which  all  manner  of  garments,  freshly  washed,  hang 
over  the  street  to  dry.  Down  in  an  open  Place  stands 
the  dark,  square  palace,  grand  and  grim,  where  Hor- 
tense  played  queen  a  little  time  while  Louis  Bona- 
parte was  king  of  Holland.  Near  the  palace  is  a 
national  monument,  for  the  Dutch,  too,  remember  their 
brave.  There  are  old  and  new  churches  also  to  be , 
seen,  but  churches  bare  of  everything  which  clothes  ca- 
thedrals with  beauty,  having  been  stripped  in  the  time 
of  the  reformation.  I  suppose  one  should  rejoice ;  but 
we  did  miss  the  high  altar,  the  old  carved  saints,  and 
the  pictures  in  the  chapels. 

Some  of  the  finest  paintings  of  the  Dutch  school  are 
in  the  national  museum  here ;  genre  pictures,  many,  if 
not  most  of  them,  but  pleasant  to  look  at,  if  not  of  the 
highest  art ;  and  we  visited  another  collection  of  the 
same,  left  by  a  M.  Van  der  Hoop.  There  are  several 
other  private   collections  thrown  open  to  the  public. 


A   TRIP  THROUGH  HOLLAND.  143 

But  after  all,  the  most  charming  picture  was  the  Jews' 
quarter  of  the  city.  I  know  it  was  horribly  filthy,  and 
60  crowded  that  we  could  hardly  make  our  way; 
I  know  it  was  filled  with  squalor  and  rags,  and  great 
dark  eyes,  and  breathed  an  odor  by  no  means  of  sanc- 
tity. The  dusky,  luminous-eyed  people  seemed  to 
move,  and  breathe,  and  hold  a  constant  bazaar  in  the 
lane-like  streets  filled  with  everything  known  and  un- 
known in  merchandise,  or  leaning  out  from  the  windows 
of  the  tottering  houses,  their  anns  crossed  over  the 
sill,  to  dream  away  a  lifetime.  Still  there  was  a  fasci- 
nation about  it  all,  a  suggestion  of  vagabondism,  of 
Ishmaelitish  wanderings,  of  having  "  here  no  continu- 
ing city,"  that  touched  the  heart  of  a  certain  Methodist 
minister's  daughter  in  our  party. 

Sometimes  the  houses  rise  directly  from  the  water, 
as  did  our  hotel,  the  entrance  being  gained  from 
another  street  in  front.  Our  room  was  like  a  town 
hall,  with  mediaeval  bed  ftirniture  and  sofa,  high  chest 
of  drawers,  and  great  round  table  that  might  have 
come  in  with  the  Dutch  when  they  took  Holland.  The 
deep  windows  looked  down  upon  a  canal.  Across  from 
them,  anchored  to  the  quay  as  if  for  a  lifetime,  was 
one  of  the  river  boats.  Early  in  the  morning  the  wife 
of  the  skipper  —  a  square  woman,  brown-faced,  with 
faded,  braided  hair  —  ran  out  bareheaded  into  the 
town,  coming  back  with  her  arms  mysteriously  full. 
Down  into  the  cabin  she  disappeared,  from  whence  di- 
rectly came  a  sound  of  sputtering  and  frying,  with  a 
most  savory  odor.  Up  she  would  come  again  —  frying 
pan  in  hand  to  corroborate  her  statement  —  to  call  her 
husband  to  breakfast.    He  was  never  ready  to  respond, 


144  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

never,  though  he  was  doing  nothing  to  support  his  en- 
ergetic family  at  the  time,  but  coiling  and  uncoiling 
old  ropes,  or  rubbing  at  invisible  spots  with  a  handful 
of  rope-yarn.  I  know  he  only  delayed  to  add  to  his 
own  dignity  and  the  importance  of  his  final  advent. 
Breakfast  over,  there  followed  such  a  commotion  in  the 
little  world  as  I  cannot  describe  —  a  shaking  out  of 
garments,  a  scraping  out  of  plates,  and  throwing  into 
the  canal  the  refuse  of  the  feast,  a  flying  up  with  pots 
and  pans  for  no  object  whatever  but  to  clatter  down 
again  with  the  same,  and  all  in  the  face  and  eyes  of 
the  town,  with  nevertheless  the  most  absorbed  and  un- 
conscious air  imaginable.  When  it  was  over,  some- 
what red  in  the  face,  but  serene,  the  wife  would  appear 
upon  the  deck,  to  sit  in  the  shadow  of  a  sail  and  mend 
her  husband's  stockings,  or  put  on  a  needed  patch. 
We  left  the  boat  still  fast  to  the  quay;  but  I  know 
that  some  day,  when  it  was  filled  with  scented  oils,  and 
rouge,  and  borax,  and  all  the  other  things  exported  from 
the  manufactories  here,  our  skipper  and  his  wife  went 
sailing  out  of  the  canals  and  along  the  edge  of  the  sea 
or  up  the  Rhine,  the  stockings  all  mended,  and  the 
good  woman  not  above  giving  a  strong  pull  at  the 
ropes. 

To  drive  about  the  streets  of  Amsterdam  is  slow 
torture,  so  rough  are  the  pavings,  so  springless  the  car- 
riages ;  but  to  roll  along  the  smooth,  wide  roads  in  the 
suburbs  is  delightful.  Upon  one  side  is  a  canal,  stag- 
nant, lifeless,  with  a  green  weed  growing  upon  its  still 
surface,  which  often  for  a  long  distance  entirely  hides 
the  water ;  beyond  the  canal  are  pleasant  little  gardens 
and  a  row  of  low,  comfortable-looking  wooden  houses 


A    TRIP  THROUGH  HOLLAND.  145 

with  green  doors.  Before  each  door  is  a  narrow  bridge 
—  a  neatly-painted  plank  with  hand-rails  —  thrown 
over  the  canal,  to  be  swung  around  or  raised  like  a 
drawbridge  at  night,  making  every  man's  house  a 
moated  castle.  We  passed  a  fine  zoological  garden 
here  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  a  garden  of  animals 
that  ranks  next  to  the  famous  one  in  London ;  but  had 
no  time  to  visit  it,  nor  did  we  see  any  of  the  charitable 
institutions  in  which  Amsterdam  excels. 

"You  know  the  pilgi'im  fathers?"  said  Emmie  — 
whose  family  had  preceded  us  by  a  day  or  two  —  the 
night  after  our  arrival.  "  O,  yes ;  had  not  our  whole  lives 
been  straightened  out  after  their  maxims?"  "Well, 
we've  found  the  house  where  it  is  said  they  held  meet- 
ings before  they  embarked  for  America.  Wouldn't  you 
like  to  see  it  ?  "  Of  course  we  would ;  in  fact,  it  would 
be  showing  no  more  than  proper  respect  to  our  fore- 
fathers. So  six  of  us  —  women  and  girls  —  put  our- 
selves under  her  guidance.  We  found  a  narrow,  dirty 
street,  the  dwellers  in  which  stared  after  us  curiously. 
Between  two  old  houses  was  an  opening,  hardly  wide 
enough  to  be  called  an  alley,  hardly  narrow  enough  to 
be  looked  upon  as  a  gutter.  Into  this  we  crowded. 
"There;  this  is  the  house,"  said  Emmie,  laying  her 
slight  fingers  upon  the  old  stone  wall  before  us.  It  was 
quite  bare,  and  devoid  of  ornament  or  entrance,  being 
evidently  the  back  or  side  of  a  house.  Down  from  the 
peak  of  the  gable  looked  a  solitary  window.  A  rude 
balcony,  holding  a  few  plants,  was  below  it,  with 
freshly-washed  clothes  hanging  from  its  rail.  We 
rolled  our  eyes,  experienced  a  shiver  that  may  have 
been  caused  by  awe  or  the  damp  chill  of  the  spot,  and 
10 


146  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

came  out  to  find  the  narrow  street  half  filled  with  star- 
ing men  and  women  crowding  about  the  point  of  our 
disappearance,  while  from  the  upper  end  of  the  street, 
and  even  around  the  comer,  others  hastened  to  join  the 
whispering,  wondering  crowd.  How  could  we  explain  ? 
It  was  utterly  impossible ;  so  we  came  quickly  and 
quietly  away ;  but  whether  this  house  had  ever  been  a 
church,  whether  the  pilgrim  fathers  ever  saw  it,  or  in- 
deed whether  there  ever  were  any  pilgrim  fathers,  are 
questions  I  cannot  undertake  to  answer. 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA.    147 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THB  BHINE   AND    RHENISH    PRUSSIA. 

First  glimpse  of  the  Rhine.  —  Cologne  and  the  Cathedral.  — 
"  Shosef  in  ter  red  coat."  —  St.  Ursula  and  the  eleven  thou- 
sand virgins.  —  Up  the  Rhine  to  Bonn.  —  The  German  stu- 
dents. —  Rolandseck.  —  A  search  for  a  resting-place.  —  Our 
Dutch  friend  and  his  Malays.  —  The  story  of  Hildegund.  — 
A  quiet  Sabbath.  —  Our  Dutch  friend's  reply.  —  Coblentz.  — 
The  bridge  of  boats.  —  Ehrenbreitstein,  over  the  river.  —  A 
scorching  day  upon  the  Rhine.  —  Romance  under  difficulties. 

—  Mayence.  —  Frankfort.  —  Heidelberg.  —  The  ruined  castle. 

—  Baden-Baden. — A  glimpse  at  the  gambling. — The  new, 
and  the  old  "  Schloss."  —  The  Black  Forest.  —  Strasbourg.  — 
The  mountains. 

WE  had  made  a  sweep  through  Belgium  and  Hol- 
land, intending  to  return  by  way  of  the  Rhine 
and  Switzerland.  Accordingly,  in  leaving  Amsterdam, 
we  struck  across  the  country  to  Arnhem,  where  we 
found  a  pleasant  hotel  near  the  station,  outside  of  the 
town.  Here  we  spent  the  night  in  order  to  break  the 
monotony  of  the  ride  to  Cologne.  After  climbing  stairs 
to  gain  our  room,  wide,  but  so  perpendicular  that  we 
were  really  afraid  to  descend  by  them,  we  had,  from  a 
rickety,  upper  piazza,  our  first  glimpse  of  the  Rhine, 
winding  through  flat,  green  meadows,  with  hardly 
more  than  a  suggestion  of  hills  in  the  distance.     There 


148  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

is  nothing  of  interest  to  detain  one  at  Arnhem.  The 
guide-book  informed  us  that  it  was  the  scene  of  Sir 
Philip  Sidney's  death  ;  but  no  one  in  the  hotel  seemed 
ever  to  have  heard  of  that  gentle  knight  —  sans  peur 
€t  sans  reprocJie. 

We  reached  Cologne  at  noon  the  next  day.  The 
road  makes  a  detour  through  the  plain,  so  that,  for 
some  time  before  gaining  it,  we  could  see  the  city 
nestling  under  the  wings  of  the  great  cathedral.  How 
can  I  tell  you  anything  about  it  ?  If  I  say  that  it  is 
five  times  tlie  length  of  any  church  you  know,  and  that 
the  towers,  when  completed,  are  to  be  the  same  height 
as  the  length,  will  ray  words  bring  to  you  any  con- 
ception of  its  size  ?  If  I  say  that  it  was  partially  built 
a  couple  of  centuries  before  the  discovery  of  America ; 
that  it  was  worked  upon  for  three  hundred  years,  and 
then  suffered  to  remain  untouched  until  recently ;  that 
the  architect  who  planned  it  has  been  forgotten  for 
centuries,  so  that  the  idea  embodied  in  its  form  is  like 
some  beautiful  old  tradition,  whose  origin  is  unknown, 
—  will  this  give  you  any  idea  of  its  age  ?  The  new 
part,  seen  from  our  hotel,  was  so  white  and  beautiful, 
that,  when  we  had  passed  around  to  the  farther  side, 
it  was  like  waking  from  a  sleep  of  a  thousand  years. 
The  blackened,  broken  Gothic  front  told  its  own  story 
of  age  and  decay.  Ah,  the  interminable  dusky  length 
of  its  interior,  when  we  had  crept  within  the  doors! 
It  was  a  very  world  in  itself,  full  of  voices,  and  echoes, 
and  shadows  of  its  own.  We  followed  the  guide  over 
the  rough  stone  floor,  giving  no  heed  to  the  tiresome 
details  that  fell  in  broken  words  and  monotonous  tones 
from  his  lips.     I  recall  nothing  now  but  the  fact  ( !  ) 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA,    149 

that  behind  the  choir  lie  buried,  in  all  their  magnifi- 
cence, the  Three  Wise  Men  of  the  East.  As  we  came 
down  one  of  the  shadowy  aisles,  we  paused  before  a 
fine,  old,  stained  window.  Our  guide  immediately  be- 
came prolix  again.  "  Dis,"  he  said,  pointing  to  one  of 
the  figures  upon  the  glass,  "  is  Shosef,  in  ter  red  coat ; 
and  dis  is  Shon  ter  Baptised ;  and  dis,  ter  Holy  Ghos' 
in  ter  form  off"  a  duff"." 

When  the  old  woman  at  the  door  offered  pictures 
of  the  cathedral,  he  assured  us  that  they  were  quite 
correct,  having  been  taken  "  from  nature^  outzide  and 
inzide,^^ 

You  must  see  the  old  Roman  remains  of  towers 
and  crumbling  walls,  sniff"  the  vile  odors  of  the  streets, 
which  have  become  proverbial,  and  be  sprinkled  with 
cologne  —  then  your  duty  to  the  city  is  done.  But 
almost  everybody  visits  the  Church  of  St.  Ursula,  which 
is  lined  with  the  skulls  of  that  unfortunate  young  wo- 
man and  her  eleven  thousand  virgin  followers. 

The  story  is,  that  she  was  an  English  princess,  who 
lived  —  nobody  knows  at  what  remote  period  of  an- 
tiquity. For  some  reason  equally  obscure,  she  started 
with  her  lover  and  eleven  thousand  maidens  to  make 
a  pilgrimage  to  Rome.  Fancy  this  lover  undertaking 
a  continental  tour  with  eleven  thousand  and  one  young 
women  under  his  care !  Even  modern  travel  presents 
no  analogy  to  the  case.  "  And  they  staid  over  night 
at  my  aunt's,"  droned  the  sleepy  guide,  who  was  telling 
the  story.  The  girls  looked  at  each  other.  "  Good 
gracious !  what  unbounded  hospitality  !  "  whispered 
one.  "At  Ijis  aunCsf''  exclaimed  a  second,  somewhat 
puzzled  by  the  anachronism.     "  Don't  interrupt,"  said 


150  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

a  third  interested  listener;  he  means  J^yencey"  and 
he  proceeded  with  the  narrative.  They  accomplished 
their  pilgrimage  in  safety ;  but,  upon  their  return,  were 
"  fetched  up  py  ter  parparians,"  as  the  guide  expressed 
it,  which  means,  in  English,  that  they  were  murdered, 
here  at  Cologne.  If  you  doubt  the  story,  behold  the 
skulls !     We  turned  suddenly  upon  the  guide. 

"  Do  you  believe  this  ?  " 

"  I  mus ;  sinz  I  tells  it  to  you,"  was  his  enigmatical 
reply,  dropping  his  eyes. 

The  scenery  along  the  Rhine  from  Cologne,  for 
twenty  miles,  is  uninteresting;  just  now,  too,  the 
weather  was  uncomfortably  hot,  and  we  were  glad  to 
leave  the  steamer  for  a  few  hours  at  Bonn.  Upon  the 
balcony  of  a  hotel,  looking  out  upon  the  river,  we  found 
a  score  of  young  men  in  bright-colored  caps  —  students 
from  the  university  here.  When  dinner  was  announced, 
they  crowded  in  and  filled  the  table,  at  which  the  ladies 
of  our  party  were  the  only  ones  present.  Such  a  noisy, 
loud-talking  set  as  they  were!  When  each  one  had 
dined,  he  coolly  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  lighted  his 
pipe !  Before  we  had  finished  our  almonds  and  raisins 
the  room  was  quite  beclouded.  Then  they  adjourned 
with  pipe  and  wine-glass  to  the  balcony  again,  where 
we  left  them  when  we  went  out  to  see  the  town. 

The  university  was  formerly  a  palace,  the  guide-book 
had  told  us;  but  all  our  childish  conceptions  of  palaces 
had  been  rudely  destroyed  before  now,  so  that  we  were 
not  surj^rised  to  find  it  without  any  especial  beauty  of 
architecture  —  only  a  pile  of  brown  stone,  three  quar- 
ters of  a  mile  long.  I  think  we  had  left  all  the  stu- 
dents drinking  wine  upon  the  balcony,  for  we  saw  none 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA.    151 

here,  —  though  we  went  through  the  library,  museum, 
and  various  halls,  —  except  one  party  outside,  who 
stared  unblushingly  at  the  girls  remaining  in  the  car- 
riage. 

Somewhere  in  the  town  we  found  a  lovely  old  min- 
ster, through  the  aisles  of  which  we  wandered  for  a  while, 
happy  in  having  no  guide  and  knowing  nothing  what- 
ever about  it.  Outside,  in  a  little  park,  was  a  statue 
of  Beethoven,  and  in  a  quiet  street  near  the  water  the 
musical  girls  of  our  party  found  the  house  where  he 
was  born.  In  the  cool  of  the  day  we  took  another 
steamer,  and  went  on  towards  the  beckoning  hills,  at 
nightfall  reaching  Rolandseck.  There  was  no  town  in 
sight,  only  a  pier  and  three  quiet  hotels  upon  the  bank, 
with  a  narrow  road  between  their  gardens  and  the 
water.  We  chose  the  one  farthest  away,  and  were 
rowed  down  to,  it,  dabbling  our  hands  in  the  water,  and 
saying  over  and  over  again,  "It  is  the  Hhine!'" 

But  the  hotel  was  full ;  so  we  filled  our  arms  with 
luggage,  and  walked  back,  up  the  dusty  road  to  the 
second.  A  complacent  waiter  stood  in  the  doorway, 
with  nothing  of  that  hungry,  eager  air  about  him 
which  betokens  an  empty  house ;  cool,  comfortable- 
looking  tourists,  in  enviable,  fresh  toilets,  stared  at  us 
from  the  windows;  a  pretty  German  girl  upon  the 
balcony  overhead  was  sketching  the  river  and  the 
Seven  Mountains  just  below,  uttering  little  womanly 
exclamations  at  times,  ending  in  "  ach "  and  "  icA." 
After  some  delay,  four  single  rooms  were  offered  us ; 
our  party  numbered  twelve ;  we  left  a  portion  of  our 
company  here ;  the  others  went  on  —  to  the  pier  where 
we  had  landed,  in  fact,  and  with  all  meekness  and  hu- 


152  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

mility  sued  for  accommodations  of  the  little  hotel  here, 
which  we  had  at  first  looked  upon  with  disdain.  Fortu- 
nately, we  were  not  refused. 

When  we  came  down  the  next  morning,  the  sole  oc- 
cupant of  the  piazza  opening  upon  the  garden  —  where 
our  breakfast  was  spread  —  was  a  stout,  red-faced 
gentleman  of  general  sleek  appearance,  who  smiled  a 
courteous  "  good  morning."  He  proved  to  be  a  Dutch- 
man from  Rotterdam,  who  had  in  charge  a  couple  of 
Malay  youths  sent  to  Holland  to  be  educated  —  bright- 
faced  boys,  with  straight,  blue-black  hair,  olive  com- 
plexions, and  eyes  like  velvet.  They  were  below  us, 
walking  in  the  garden  now. 

"  We  have  but  just  come  from  Holland,"  we  said, 
after  some  conversation;  and,  with  a  desire  to  be  soci- 
able, added  that  it  was  a  very  charming,  garden-like 
little  ( ! )  country.     (O  dreadful  American  spirit ! ) 

He  smiled,  showing  his  gums  above  his  short  teeth, 
and  with  a  kind  of  enraged  humility  replied,  — 

"  It  is  nothing." 

"It  is  indeed  wonderful,"  we  went  on,  trying  to  im- 
prove upon  our  former  attempt,  and  quoting  a  senti- 
ment from  the  guide-book,  "how  your  people  have 
rescued  the  land  from  the  clutch  of  the  sea !  " 

But  his  only  reply  was  the  same  smile,  and  the 
"Yes?"  so  fatal  to  sentiment. 

"  We  visited  your  queen's  *  House  in  the  Wood,' " 
we  ventured,  presently.  "  Is  it  true  that  the  domestic 
relations  of  the  royal  family  are  so  unhappy?" 

"  O,  the  king  and  the  queen  are  most  happy,"  he  re- 
plied. "You  may  always  be  sure  that  when  he  is  in 
town  she  will  be  in  the  country." 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA.    153 

This  was  a  phase  of  domestic  bliss  so  new  to  us  that 
.  we  were  fain  to  consider  it  for  a  moment.  Various 
other  attempts  we  made  at  gaining  information,  with 
equally  questionable  success.  Our  Dutch  acquaint- 
ance, though  disposed  to  conversation,  avoided  the 
topic  of  his  own  country.  Still  he  sought  our  society 
persistently,  asking  at  dinner  that  his  plate  might  be  laid 
•  at  the  same  table.  Our  vanity  was  considerably  flat- 
tered, until  he  chanced  to  remark  that  he  embraced 
every  opportunity  of  conversing  with  English  and 
American  travellers,  it  did  so  improve  his  English. 
From  that  time  we  found  him  tiresome.  Think  of  be- 
ing used  as  an  exercise-book! 

It  is  here  at  Rolandseck  that  the  romance  of  the 
Rhine,  as  well  as  its  world-renowned  scenery,  com- 
mences. Across  the  river  is  the  Drachenfels  —  the 
crag  upon  which  the  remains  of  a  castle  may  still  be 
seen,  where,  "  in  the  most  ancient  time,"  dwelt  Hilde- 
gund,  a  maiden  beautiful  as  those  of  all  stories,  and 
beloved  by  Roland,  a  nephew  of  Charlemagne.  When 
he  went  away  to  the  wars,  she  waited  and  watched  at 
home  —  as  other  maidens  have  done ;  but  alas !  in- 
stead of  her  lover,  came  after  a  time  only  the  news  of 
his  death.  Then  Hildegund  laid  aside  her  gay  attire 
and  happy  heart,  with  her  hopes,  and  leaving  her 
father's  castle,  came  down  to  bury  her  young  life  in 
the  nunnery  upon  the  island  at  its  foot.  But  the 
rumor  was  false;  and  in  time  Roland  returned,  only 
to  find  himself  too  late,  for  Hildegund  was  bound  by 
vows  which  could  not  be  broken.  Then,  upoif  the 
rock  called  now  Rolandseck,  the  unhappy  lover  built 
a  castle  opposite  the  Drachenfels  and  overlooking  the 


154  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Island  of  Nonn  en  worth.  Here  he  could  watch  the 
nuns  as  they  walked  in  the  convent  garden,  and  per- 
haps among  them  distinguish  the  form  of  Hildegund. 

On  our  way  down  from  the  arch,  which,  with  a  few 
crumbling  stones  is  all  that  remains  now  of  Roland's 
castle,  we  passed  through  one  of  the  vineyards  for 
which  the  banks  of  this  river  are  so  noted.  Do  you 
imagine  them  to  be  picturesque?  They  are  almost  ugly. 
The  vines  are  planted  in  regular  order  and  pruned 
closely.  They  are  not  suffered  to  grow  above  three  feet 
in  height,  and  each  one  is  fastened  to  a  stout  stake  until 
the  wood  itself  becomes  self-supporting. 

We  spent  a  quiet  Sabbath  at  Rolandseck.  There 
was  no  church,  no  church  service  at  either  of  the 
hotels.  We  rested  and  wrote  letters,  sitting  in  the 
grape  arbors  of  the  garden;  only  a  low  hedge  and 
narrow,  grass-grown  road  between  us  and  the  river. 
Down  below,  the  rocks  and  the  island  shut  out  the 
world  ;  across,  the  hills  rose  to  the  sky,  their  slopes 
covered  with  yellow  grain,  or  dotted  with  red-roofed 
farm-houses,  while  tiny  villages  had  curled  up  and 
gone  to  sleep  at  their  feet.  It  was  impossible  to  write. 
The  breeze  that  rippled  the  yellow  water  blew  away 
our  paper  and  our  thoughts;  and  when  the  steamer, 
puffing,  and  evidently  breathless  from  stemming  the 
current,  touched  at  the  little  pier,  we  left  everything 
and  ran  out  to  see  the  passengers  disembark.  A  band 
played  at  the  railroad  station  just  above  our  hotel,  and 
the  park  attached  to  it  swarmed  with  excursionists 
during  the  afternoon.  At  dusk,  when  they  had  all 
gone,  we  wandered  up  the  magnificent  road  which 
follows  the  course  of  the  river;  built  originally  by  the 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA.    155 

Romans,  and  said  to  extend  for  a  long  distance  —  five 
hundred  miles  or  more  —  into  Germany,  returning 
with  our  hands  full  of  wild  flowers.  When  we  went 
on  board  the  steamer,  Monday  morning,  we  were  close- 
ly followed  by  our  Dutch  friend  and  his  Malays.  They 
strolled  off  by  themselves,  as  they  seemed  always  to 
do ;  he  joined  our  group  under  the  awning  spread  over 
the  deck.  An  English  tourist  seized  upon  him  im- 
mediately, and  when  he  had  disclosed  his  nationality, 
proceeded  with  a  glance  towards  us,  to  quiz  him  upon 
Dutch  ways. 

"  Now,  really,"  said  the*  tourist,  tilting  back  against 
the  rail  in  his  camp  chair,  "  how  dreadful  it  must  be  to 
live  in  a  country  where  there  are  no  mountains !  noth- 
ing but  a  stretch  of  flat  land,  you  know.  I  fancy  it 
would  be  unendurable." 

"Yes?"  was  the  Dutchman's  sole  response. 

"  You  still  keep  up  your  peculiar  customs,  I  observe 
from  Murray,"  the  Englishman  went  on,  loftily.  "  Your 
women  carry  the  same  old  foot-stoves  to  church,  I  fan- 
cy.   They  hang  up,  you  know,  in  every  house." 

"  Ah ! "  and  the  Dutchman  only  smiled  that  same  in- 
comprehensible smile  that  had  so  puzzled  us. 

"And  you  smoke  constantly,"  continued  the  in- 
quisitor, growing  dogmatic ;  "  a  pipe  is  seldom  out  of 
your  mouths.  Really,  you  are  a  nation  of  perpetual 
smokers." 

"  Yes,"  assented  the  Dutchman ;  "  but  then  —  "  and 
here  his  eyes,  and  indeed  his  whole  round,  rosy  face 
twinkled  with  irresistible  humor,  "  you  know  we  have 
no  mountains?'* 

A  shout  went  up  from  the  listeners,  and  our  English 


156  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

acquaintance  became  at  once  intensely  interested  in 
the  scenery. 

The  sail  of  half  an  hour  to  Coblentz  was  a  continual 
delight.  The  rocky  mountains  rose  abruptly  from  the 
water,  terraced  to  their  peaks  with  vineyards,  or  stood 
back  to  give  place  to  modest  towns  and  villages  that 
dipped  their  skirts  in  the  stream.  At  their  wharves 
we  touched  for  a  moment,  to  make  an  exchange  of 
passengers  or  baggage.  Often  from  the  lesser  villages 
a  boat  shot  out,  the  oars  held  by  a  brown-armed  maid- 
en, who  boarded  us  to  take,  perhaps,  a  single  box  or 
bale,  or,  it  might  be,  some  bearded  tourist  with  sketch- 
book under  his  arm.  The  passengers  walked  the  deck, 
or  gathered  in  groups  to  eat  ices  and  drink  the  wines 
made  from  the  grapes  grown  in  these  vineyards,  with 
the  pictured  maps  of  the  river  spread  out  upon  their 
laps,  and  the  ubiquitous  Murray  in  their  hands. 

As  we  neared  Coblentz  the  villages  increased  as  the 
hills  vanished.  Each  had  its  point  of  interest,  or 
monkish  legend  —  the  palace  of  a  duke,  a  bit  of 
crumbling  Roman  wall  rising  from  the  water  — some- 
thing to  invest  it  with  a  charm.  One  —  Neuwied  — 
is  noted  for  holding  harmoniously  within  its  hraits, 
Jews,  Moravians,  Anabaptists,  and  Catholics.  The  Mil- 
lennium will  doubtless  begin  at  Neuwied. 

At  Coblentz  we  remained  a  day,  in  order  to  visit 
the  fortress  of  Ehrenbreitstein.  From  our  windows 
at  the  hotel  we  could  look  directly  across  to  this  grim 
giant  of  rock,  as  well  as  down  upon  the  bridge  of  boats 
which  crosses  the  Rhine  here.  It  was  endless  amuse- 
ment to  watch  the  approach  of  the  steamers,  when,  as 
if  impelled  by  invisible  boatmen,  a  part  of  the  bridge 


"At  the  word  of  command  they  struck  the  most  extraordinary  attitudes. 
Page  157. 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA.     157 

would  swing  slowly  round  to  make  an  opening,  while 
the  crowd  of  soldiers,  market-women,  and  towns-people, 
waiting  impatiently,  furnished  a  constant  and  interest- 
ing study. 

An  hour  or  two  after  noon  we  too  crossed  the 
bridge  in  an  open  carriage,  nearly  overcome  by  the 
stifling  heat,  and  after  passing  through  the  village 
of  Ehrenbreitstein,  ascended  the  winding  road  — 
a  steep  ascent,  leading  under  great  arches  of  solid 
masonry,  through  massive  gateways,  and  shut  in  by 
the  rock  which  forms  the  fortress.  At  various  points, 
guards  of  Prussian  soldiers,  as  immovable  as  the  stone 
under  their  feet,  were  stationed.  Suddenly  in  the  gloomy 
silence,  as  we  toiled  slowly  up,  echoed  a  sharp  tramp, 
tramp,  and  a  line  of  soldiers  filed  by  in  grim  silence, 
each  one  with  a  couple  of  loaves  of  bread  slung  by  a 
cord  over  his  shoulder.  In  a  moment  another  line  fol- 
lowed with  a  quantity  of  iron  bedsteads,  each  borne 
solemnly  upon  the  shoulders  of  four  men.  The  guards 
accompanying  them  were  armed,  and  wore  queer,  shin- 
ing helmets.  Still  another  company  came  swinging 
down  to  meet  us,  with  fixed,  imperturbable  counte- 
nances, each  bearing  a  towel  in  one  hand,  with  military 
precision.  They  were  on  their  way  to  the  bathing- 
house  upon  the  bridge. 

Scattered  about  upon  the  broad  esplanade  at  the 
summit,  or  rather  arranged  in  lines  upon  the  breezy, 
grass-grown  space,  were  squads  of  recruits  being  drilled. 
At  the  word  of  command  they  struck  the  most  extraor- 
dinary attitudes.  Taking  a  tremendous  stride,  they 
endeavored  to  poise  themselves  on  one  foot,  while  they 
threw  the  other  leg  straight  out  behind  into  the  air. 


158  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Being  of  all  sizes,  forms,  and  degrees  of  grace  in  move- 
ment, the  effect,  to  say  the  least,  was  surprising ;  es- 
pecially as  the  most  intense  silence  and  seriousness 
prevailed.  A  second  stride  and  fling  followed,  then  a 
third,  when  a  pert  young  officer,  of  the  bantam  species, 
seized  a  gun,  and  strutting  to  the  front,  proceeded  to 
illustrate  the  idea  more  perfectly.  At  this  point  our 
gravity  gave  way. 

A  young  sergeant,  with  a  stupid  but  good-natured 
face,  attached  himself  to  ns  in  the  capacity  of  guide. 
He  could  speak  nothing  but  German,  of  which  not  one 
of  us  understood  a  word.  We  followed  him  from  point 
to  point,  politely  attending  to  all  his  elaborate  explana- 
tions, and  were  surprised  to  find  how  many  ideas  we 
bad  finally  gained  by  means  of  the  patient  and  pain- 
ful pantomimic  accompaniment  to  his  words. 

The  view  from  the  summit  is  wonderfully  extensive. 
All  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  and  the  glory  of  them 
seemed  spread  out  at  our  feet ;  and  our  fat  little  guide 
grew  fairly  red  in  the  face  in  his  efforts  to  make  us  com- 
prehend the  names  of  the  various  points  of  interest. 

When  we  returned  to  the  carriage  the  animated 
jumping-Jacks  were  still  engaged  in  their  remarkable 
evolutions;  and  as  we  came  down  we  had  a  last  glimpse 
of  our  Dutch  friend  and  his  Malays,  who  were  making 
the  ascent  on  foot. 

The  next  day,  though  passed  upon  the  beautiful 
river,  was  a  day  of  torment.  The  stream  narrowed  ; 
the  frowning  rocks  closed  in  upon  us,  shutting  out 
every  breath  of  air;  the  sun  beat  down  upon  the 
water  and  the  low  awning  over  our  heads  with  fiery 
fury;  in  a  moment  of  idiocy  we  answered  the  call 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA.     159 

to  toMe  d'hote^  which  was  served  upon  deck  with  a 
refinement  of  imbecility  just  as  the  climax  of  the  strik- 
ing scenery  approached.  For  one  mortal  hour  we 
were  wedged  in  at  that  table,  peering  between  heads 
and  under  the  awning  which  cut  off  every  peak,  making 
frantic  attempts  to  turn  in  our  places,  as  parties  across 
the  table  exclaimed  over  the  scenery  behind  us,  and 
consoling  ourselves  with  reading  up  the  legends  in  the 
guide-book  held  open  by  the  rim  of  our  soup-plates,  — 
of  the  Seven  Sisters,  for  instance,*  who  were  turned  into 
seven  stones  which  stand  in  the  stream  to  this  day,  be- 
cause they  refused  to  smile  upon  their  lovers  (fortu- 
nately for  navigation,  maidens  in  these  days  are  less 
obdurate)  ;  of  the  bishop  who  shut  his  starving  peasants 
into  his  barn  and  set  fire  to  it,  though  his  granaries 
were  full,  and  who,  in  poetic  justice,  was  afterwards 
devoured  by  rats ;  of  the  Lurlei  siren,  wlio  lured  men 
to  destruction,  and  became  historical  from  the  indi- 
viduality of  the  case;  of  various  maidens  bereft  of 
lovers  by  cruel  fathers,  and  of  various  lovers  bereft  of 
maidens  by  cruel  fate,  &c.,  while  storied  ruins  crowned 
the  crags  on  every  hand,  always  half  hidden  under  a 
weight  of  ivy,  and  often  indistinguishable  from  the 
rock  on  which  they  seemed  to  have  grown. 

At  Bingen,  which  is  not  especially  "fair"  from  the 
river,  the  precipices  drop  away,  the  stream  spreads  out 
in  nearly  twice  its  former  width,  and  is  dotted  with 
islands.  At  Mayence  you  may  leave  the  steamer ;  the 
beauties  of  the  Rhine  are  passed. 

From  Mayence  we  made  an  excursion  to  Wiesbaden ; 
then  on  to  Frankfort -on-the-Maine,  to  rest  only  a  few 
hours,  doing  the  city  hastily  and  imperfectly ;  and  finally 


160  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

reached  Heidelberg  at  night,  in  time  for  table  d'hote.  A 
talkative  young  Irishman  sat  beside  us  at  the  table,  who 
spoke  five  or  six  languages  "  with  different  degrees  of 
badness,"  he  informed  us ;  had  travelled  half  the  world 
over,  but  held  in  reserve  the  pleasure  of  visiting  America. 

"  I  have  a  friend  there,"  he  added,  "  though  he  is  in 
South  America." 

"Ah?" 

"  Yes ;  at  Mobile^  he  replied.  "  He  held  some  oflBce 
under  government  for  a  number  of  years,  but  during 
your  recent  war  — for  some  reason  which  I  do  not 
understand  — he  seems  to  have  lost  it." 

It  did  not  seem  so  inexplicable  to  us. 

Our  conception  of  Heidelberg  had  been  most  im- 
perfect. We  knew  simply  that  it  held  a  university 
and  a  ruin.  The  former  did  not  especially  attract  us, 
and  we  were  sated  with  ruins.  So,  when  we  took  pos- 
session of  our  lovely  room,  —  a  charming  salon,  con- 
verted temporarily  into  a  bedroom,  —  it  was  with  a 
kind  of  listless  indifference  that  we  stepped  out  upon 
the  balcony  before  the  window.  And,  behold  !  down 
below,  an  old,  paved  square,  walled  in  by  delightfully 
dingy  old  houses  ;  a  stone  fountain ;  a  string  of  waiting 
landaus  (for  Landau  itself  is  near  by),  with  scarlet 
linings  to  their  tops  —  giving  a  bit  of  color  to  the  pic- 
ture ;  a  party  of  German  students  crossing  the  square, 
wearing  the  caps  of  different  colors  to  betoken  different 
societies  or  clubs,  and  almost  every  one  with  a  scarred 
cheek  or  suggestive  patch  upon  his  nose;  and,  lastly, 
on  the  right  hand,  and  so  precipitous  as  almost  to  over- 
hang the  square,  a  hill  crowned  with  the  castle,  grand, 
though  in  ruins,  which  nature  vainly  tries  to  conceal. 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA.     161 

There  are  ruins,  and  ruins.  Except  the  Alhambra,  in 
Spain,  none  in  the  world  equal  these.     . 

What  this  castle  must  have  been  in  the  days  of  its 
glory,  when  it  was  the  residence  of  a  court,  we  could 
only  faintly  imagine.  It  is  of  red  sandstone,  and  was  a 
succession  of  palaces,  built  to  enclose  a  square,  or  great 
court-yard,  each  of  entirely  different  architecture  and 
design,  the  fagade  of  one  being  covered  with  statues, 
another  having  pointed  gables,  &c.;  all  having  been 
erected  at  periods  fifty  or  a  hundred  years  remote  from 
each  other.  At  each  corner  were  watch-towers  to 
apprise  of  coming  foes.  You  may  still  ascend  the 
winding  stairs  of  one,  though  the  steps  have  been  hol- 
lowed into  bowls  by  dripping  rain  and  mounting  feet. 
Between  these  towers,  upon  one  side,  and  on  the  verge 
of  the  hill,  still  remains  the  grand  stone  terrace, —  where 
a  hundred  couples  might  promenade  in  solitude  on 
moonlight  evenings, — with  summer-houses  at  each  end; 
and  beautiful  gardens  are  still  connected  with  the  ruins. 
For  all  these  palaces  are  in  ruins.  A  few  habitable 
rooms  only  remain  among  them  all.  Several  sieges,  and 
partial  demolition  at  times,  the  castle  suffered,  and  at 
last,  a  hundred  years  ago,  lightning  completed  the 
work,  since  which  time  no  efforts  at  restoration  have 
been  made. 

The  whole  is  overgrown  with  ivy,  and  embowered 
in  shrubbery.  Great  trees  spread  their  branches  in 
the  midst  of  the  walls  that  still  remain  standing,  and 
crumbling  earth  and  drifting  dust  have  filled  many 
])arts,  even  up  to  t)ie  broken  window  ledges  of  the  sec- 
ond story.  Across  the  broad  stone  steps  leading  to 
one  of  these  palaces,  tangled  vines  disputed  right  of 
11 


162  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

way,  and  a  neglected  cherry-tree  had  scattered  with 
wanton  hand  its  over-ripe  fruitage.  Thrust  through  a 
casement  was  an  ivy  that  might  have  vied  with  many 
of  the  trees  around  in  the  size  of  its  trunk,  and  no  artis- 
tic hand  could  have  trailed  its  creepers  with  the  grace 
Nature  alone  had  displayed. 

There  was  a  grand  banqueting-hall,  with  the  blue 
heavens  for  a  ceiling  overhead.  There  was  a  drawing- 
room,  the  floor  long  since  crumbled  away,  and  only 
the  broken  walls  remaining.  Standing  upon  the  loose 
earth,  you  may  see  the  blackened  fireplace  far  above 
your  head,  before  which  fair  faces  grew  rosy  centuries 
ago,  and  where  white  hands  were  outspread  that  have 
been  dust  and  mould  for  ages.  There  was —  But 
words  cannot  describe  it,  though  I  should  speak  of 
the  winding  ways  like  a  labyrinth  beneath  it  all ;  of 
the  queer  paved  court-yard,  from  whence  the  knights 
sallied  out  in  the  olden  time  ;  of  the  great  tower,  split 
in  twain  by  an  explosion  during  the  last  siege ;  of  the 
wine-cellars  and  the  "Great  Tun,"  upon  which  the 
servants  of  the  castle  danced  when  the  vintage  was 
gathered.  In  all  attempts  at  word-painting  there  re- 
mains something  that  defies  description,  that  will  not 
be  portrayed  by '  language.  And,  alas !  in  that  the 
charm  lies. 

We  tuiTied  away  from  it  with  regret.  One  might 
linger  here  for  days;  but  we  had  little  time  for 
dreaming. 

The  road  from  Heidelberg  to  Baden-Baden  led 
through  a  charming  country :  indeed,  we  ceased  to  ex- 
claim after  a  time  over  the  cultivation  of  the  land.  So 
far  as  we  saw  it,  the  whole  of  Europe  was  a  market- 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA,    163 

garden,  with  prize  meadows  interspersed.  Not  a  foot 
of  neglected  or  carelessly-tilled  ground  did  we  see 
anywhere. 

We  chanced  to  spend  the  Sabbath  in  this  most  un- 
Sabbath-like  city  of  Baden-Baden.  But  so  far  as  we 
knew  to  the  contrary,  it  might  have  been  a  Puritan 
village.  There  was  a  little  English  chapel  out  in  the 
fields  beyond  the  city,  where  morning  service  was  held, 
and  our  windows,  overlooking  a  quiet  square,  told  noth- 
ing of  the  gayeties  of  the  town.  It  is  an  interesting 
old  city  in  itself  built  upon  a  side  hill,  full  of  unexpected 
stone  steps  leading  from  one  street  to  another,  and  by 
and  crooked  ways,  that  were  my  especial  delight.  It 
being  just  now  "the  season,"  the  town  was  full  of 
visitors.  The  hot  springs  are  of  course  the  nominal 
attraction ;  the  shops,  parks,  and  new  parts  of  the  city, 
fine  ;  but,  after  all,  the  interest  centres  at  the  Kursaal, 
or  Conversation-haus.  It  is  a  great  white  structure, 
with  a  colonnade  where  it  fi'onts  an  open  square,  and 
contains  reading-rooms,  cafes^  a  grand  ball-room,  and 
the  gambling  salons.  Government  has  at  length  inter- 
fered, and  these  last,  hired  by  companies  paying  a  cer- 
tain sum  for  the  privilege  of  beguiling  and  beggaring 
visitors,  were  to  be  closed  now  in  two  years,  I  think,  or 
less.  In  front  of  the  Kursaal  a  band  plays  every  after- 
noon; the  colonnade  and  square  are  thronged  with 
people  promenading  or  occupying  the  chairs  placed 
there,  eating  ices,  drinking  wine,  and  enjoying  the  fine 
music,  but  all  perfectly  quiet  in  manner  and  plain  of 
dress.  No  one  was  gaudily  or  even  strikingly  attired. 
The  Hanoverian  women  were  the  most  marked  for  their 
queer  head-dresses,  consisting  of  an  enormous  bow  and 


164  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

ends  of  wide,  black  ribbon  perched  upon  their  crowns, 
and  giving  their  heads  a  peculiar,  bat-like  appearance. 
And  in  this  connection  I  might  say  that  national  pecu- 
liarities in  dress  are  seldom  met  with  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  continental  travel.  They  still  exist  to  some 
extent  among  the  lower  classes,  and  are  often  assumed 
and  perpetuated  to  attract  the  attention  of  travellers ; 
but  ordinarily  you  will  find  people  whom  you  meet 
anywhere  and  everywhere  to  be  costumed  much  alike. 
Paris  fashions,  with  modifications  (and  in  America  with 
intensifications)^  have  prevailed  universally,  until  there 
are  few  outward  dissimilarities  to  be  observed  among 
the  people  of  different  nationahties.  Nothing  strikes 
the  attention  of  the  traveller  more  than  this  universal 
homogeneousness;  and  not  in  dress  alone.  In  Bruges, 
under  the  shadow  of  the  belfry  tower,  little  girls  trot 
off  to  school  in  water-proofs,  just  as  they  do  at  home 
with  us ;  and  at  the  entrance  to  Stirling  Castle,  we 
passed  a  sturdy  little  boy  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
whistling,  "  Not  for  Jo,"  exactly  like  other  sturdy  little 
boys  we  know  at  home. 

But  to  return  to  Baden-Baden. 

We  almost  fancied  a  sulphurous  odor  hung  about 
the  gambling  salons.  Not  a  footfall  echoed  upon  the 
softly-carpeted  floore  as  we  entered.  The  most  breath- 
less silence  hung  over  everything.  In  the  centre,  a 
crowd,  three  in  depth  at  least,  surrounded  and  hid  the' 
table  covered  with  green  cloth,  before  which  sat  the 
croupier^  with  a  kind  of  little  rake  in  his  hand.  In  our 
eyes  he  was  the  incarnation  of  evil,  though  to  unpreju- 
diced vision  he  would  appear  simply  a  well-dressed  — 
not  flashily-arrayed  —  gentleman,  of  a  rather  intellec- 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA.    165 

tual  countenance,  who  might  have  passed  upon  the 
street  as  a  lawyer  in  good  practice,  or  possibly  a 
doctor  somewhat  overworked. 

One  after  another  of  the  bystanders  covered  the 
figures  stamped  upon  the  table  with  gold  or  silver. 
The  ball  in  the  centre,  spinning  in  its  circle,  fell  into  a 
pocket  with  a  "  click."  The  croupier  called  the  win- 
ning number  I  think  (though  confessing  that  the  game 
is  a  hidden  mystery).  That  quick,  sharp  utterance  was 
the  only  sound  breaking  the  silence.  At  the  same  time, 
with  wonderful  dexterity,  he  raked  the  money  into  a 
pile,  and  pushed  it  towards  the  winner,  or,  more 
frequently,  added  it  to  the  pile  before  himself. 

I  looked  in  vain  for  any  exhibition  of  excitement  or 
anxiety  among  the  players  sitting  or  standing  around 
the  table.  All  were  serious,  silent ;  some  few  absorbed. 
Both  sexes  were  equally  represented,  and  old  as  well 
as  young.  Beside  us  was  standing  a  woman  with  a 
worn,  though  still  fine  face,  unobtrusive  in  dress  and 
manner ;  a  traveller  and  spectator,  I  judged,  like  our- 
selves. It  was  something  of  a  surprise,  not  to  say  a 
shock,  to  see  her  suddenly  stretch  out  her  hand,  and 
lay  down  a  handful  of  gold  pieces,  selecting  the  num- 
bers with  an  air  that  proved  her  to  be  no  novice. 
"Click,"  fell  the  ball.  The  croupier^  with  a  sweep  of 
the  rake,  gathered  up  her  Napoleons.  The  bank  had 
won.  Again  she  laid  down  her  gold,  placing  each 
piece  with  thoughtful  deliberation.  Again  they  were 
swept  away;  and  even  the  third  time.  She  made  no 
exclamation.  She  did  not  so  much  as  raise  her  eyes 
from  the  table  as  she  prepared  to  make  a  fourth  at- 
tempt.    There  was  no  change  in  her  face,  except  a 


166  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

certain  fixedness  which  came  over  it,  and  a  faint  tinge 
of  color  rising  in  her  cheeks. 

We  breathed  more  freely  when  we  had  gained  the 
open  air.  I  am  sure  there  was  an  odor  of  sulphur 
about  the  place. 

The  scenery  around  Baden-Baden  is  striking  and 
wild.  Gloomy  valleys  abound,  and  dark  forests  cover 
many  of  the  hills.  We  took  a  kind  of  wagonet  one 
morning,  and  climbed  the  mountain  behind  the  city, 
passing  what  is  known  as  the  "New  Schloss,"  or  castle, 
before  leaving  its  limits.  It  is  anything  but  neio^  how- 
ever, having  been  erected  some  four  or  five  hundred 
years.  Its  horrible  dungeons,  where  all  manner  of 
tonnents  were  inflicted,  and  tortures  suffered  by  the 
unfortunate  wretches  incarcerated  here,  attract  scores 
of  visitors.  We  went  on,  by  the  zigzag  road  up  the 
mountain,  to  the  Old  Schloss  upon  its  summit.  This 
was  the  residence  of  the  reigning  family  of  Baden  be- 
fore the  erection  of  the  New  Schloss.  Hardly  any- 
thing remains  of  it  now  but  the  walls  of  a  square  tower, 
from  the  battlements  of  which,  by  mounting  to  an 
encircling  gallery,  you  may  obtain  a  view  well  worth 
the  effort.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  see  in  one  direction, 
extends  the  Black  Forest  —  the  very  name  of  which 
brings  to  mind  elfish  legends  innumerable.  But? 
though  our  way  led  along  its  edge,  so  that  we  were 
shut  in  by  the  chill  and  gloom  of  the  evergreens  which 
give  it  its  name,  we  saw  neither  elves  nor  gnomes,  nor 
the  traditional  "  wood-cutter,  named  Hans,  who  lived 
upon  the  borders  of  the  Black  Forest,"  about  whom  we 
used  to  read  when  we  were  children. 

From  Baden-Baden  we  took  the  railroad,  following 


THE  RHINE  AND  RHENISH  PRUSSIA.    167 

the  course  of  the  Rhine  to  Strasbourg,  spending  only  a 
night  here,  in  order  to  visit  the  beautiful  cathedral ; 
then  on  to  Lucerne,  waiting  an  hour  or  two  to  break 
the  long  day's  ride,  at  Basle.  Here-  the  mountains 
began  to  grow  before  our  eyes.  We  shot  through 
tunnel  after  tunnel,  cut  in  the  solid  rock,  and  suddenly 
sweeping  around  a  curve,  the  everlasting  hills  wrapped 
in  perpetual  snows,  greeted  our  astonished  sight.  We 
had  reached  the  Mecca  of  our  hopes  at  last. 


168  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 


DAYS   IN    SWITZERLAND. 


The  Lake  of  Lucerne.  —  Days  of  rest  in  the  city.  —  An  excur- 
sion up  the  Righi.  —  The  crowd  at  the  summit.  —  Dinner  at 
midnight.  —  Rising  before  '*the  early  worm." — The  **  sun- 
rise "  according  to  Murray.  —  Animated  scarecrows.  —  Off 
for  a  tour  through  Switzerland.  —  The  lake  for  the  last  time. 
—  Gratlii.  —  William  Tell's  chapel.  —  Fluellen.  —  Altorf.  — 
Swiss  haymakers.  —  An  hour  at  Amsteg.  —  The  rocks  close 
in.  —  The  Devil's  Bridge.  —  The  dangerous  road.  —  "A  car- 
riage has  gone  over  the  precipice !  "  —  Andermatt.  —  Desolate 
rocks.  —  Exquisite  wild  flowers.  —  The  summit  of  the  Fur- 
ka.  —  A  descent  to  the  Rhone  glacier.  —  Into  the  ice.  — 
Swiss  villages.  —  Brieg.  —  The  convent  inn.  —  The  bare  lit- 
tle chapel  on  the  hill.  —  To  Martigny. 

WHEN  we  forget  the  scene  before  our  dazzled 
eyes  as  we  stepped  out  upon  the  balcony  of 
the  hotel  Bellevue  at  Lucerne,  earth  will  have  passed 
away.  There  lay  the  fair  lake,  the  emerald  hills  rising 
from  its  blue  depths  on  every  side,  save  where  the 
queer  old  town  sweeps  aroimd  its  curve,  or  beyond  Pi- 
latus,  where  the  chain  is  broken,  and  a  strip  of  level 
land  lies  along  the  water's  edge,  sprinkled  with  red- 
roofed  farm-houses  set  in  the  midst  of  grain-fields,  and 
with  rows  of  tall,  straight  poplars  extending  to  the 
w^ater.     This  sight  of  peaceful  homes  among  the  heav- 


DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  169 

enly  hills  is  like  a  vision  of  earth  in  mid-heaven.  Be- 
yond, above,  overlapping  each  other,  rise  these  delec- 
table hills.  No  earthly  air  envelops  them.  No  earthly 
feet  tread  their  fair  summits.  Upon  the  highest,  among 
the  eternal  snows,  rest  the  clouds.  Truly,  the  heavens 
declare  the  glory  of  God;  but  Switzerland  showeth 
his  handiwork ! 

Beautiful  was  the  lake  in  the  hazy  morning  light, 
when  the  hills  cast  purple  and  green  shadows  over  its 
bosom,  when  the  breeze  rippled  its  surface,  and  the 
path  in  the  wake  of  the  little  steamer  widened  into  an 
endless  way;  beautiful  in  the  glare  of  the  noonday 
sun,  when  a  veil  of  mist  half  hid  the  far-off  mountains, 
and  the  water  gleamed  like  molten  gold;  but  most 
beautiful  of  all  when  the  mountains  wrapped  them- 
selves in  the  shadows  of  night,  and  stole  away  into  the 
darkness,  while  upon  their  white,  still  faces  shone  the 
rays  of  the  setting  sun.  Then  grim  Pilatus  stepped 
forth ;  the  moon,  like  a  burnished  globe,  hung  over  the 
water,  across  which  the  little  steamer  ploughed  silver 
furrows,  or  tiny  boats,  impelled  by  flashing  oars,  shot 
over  the  still  surface,  now  near,  now  far  away ;  but  dim, 
unreal,  always. 

It  was  a  place  of  rest  to  us  —  this  city  of  Lucerne ; 
the  "  House  Beautiful,"  where  we  tarried  for  a  time  be- 
fore setting  out  again  upon  our  pilgrimage.  We  wan- 
dered about  the  naiTow  streets,  visited  the  dingy  shops 
full  of  wood  carvings  or  ornaments  cut  in  the  many- 
hued  crystals ;  strayed  over  the  low  hills  behind  the 
town,  through  fields  set  with  painted  shrines  ;  paused 
before  Thorwaldsen's  Dying  Lion,  cut  in  the  living  rock 
—  the  grandest  monument  that  heroes  ever  won ;  and 


170  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

once,  in  the  stillness  of  a  summer  morning,  sat  in  the 
cathedral  and  heard  the  angels  sing,  when  the  old  organ- 
ist laid  his  hands  upon  the  keys.  Sabbath  mornings 
we  sang  the  old  versified  psalms,  and  listened  to  the 
exposition  of  a  rigid  faith  from  the  lip^  of  a  Scotch 
Presbyterian  minister,  in  an  old  Roman  Catholic  church 

—  the  walls  hung  with  pictured  saints  and  martyrs, 
the  high  altar  only  partially  concealed,  and  a  company 
of  women  kneeling  by  the  door  to  tell  their  beads. 
Not  only  rest,  but  Christian  charity,  had  we  found 
here. 

Almost  every  one  who  spends  any  time  at  Lucerne 
ascends  the  Righi  to  see  the  sun  rise.  Accordhigly, 
five  of  our  number  prepared  to  follow  the  universal 
custom.  In  one  of  the  little  shops  of  the  town  we 
found  some  light,  straw  hats,  with  wide  rims,  for  which 
we  gave  the  extravagant  price  of  three  cents  apiece, 
tiimming  them  afterwards  to  suit  individual  taste,  with 
ribbons,  soft  white  lawn,  and  even  mountain  ferns  and 
grasses.  We  slung  our  wraps  over  our  shoulders  by  a 
strap,  —  a  most  uncomfortable  arrangement  by  the  ^vay, 

—  discarded  crinoline,  brought  into  use  the  shabbiest 
gowns  in  our  possession,  packed  hand-satchels  with 
whatever  was  necessary  for  a  night  upon  the  moun- 
tain, and  then  declared  ourselves  ready  for  any  disclo- 
sures of  the  future  or  the  Righi. 

A  little  steamer  bore  us  from  Lucerne  to  Weggis  — 
a  half  hour's  sail.  We  found  Weggis  to  be  only  an 
insignificant  village,  almost  pushed  into  the  lake  by  the 
crowding  mountain,  and  seeming  to  contain  nothing 
but  guides  and  shabby  horses.  As  we  left  the  steam- 
er, the  open   space  between  the  pier  and   the  hotel 


DAI'S  IN  SWITZERLAND.  171 

facing  it  was  crowded  with  tourists,  waiting  for  or  bar- 
gaining with  the  guides  for  these  soiTy-looking  beasts. 
No  matter  of  what  age,  sex,  or  condition  in  life  you 
may  be,  if  you  visit  Switzerland,  you  will  make,  at 
least  one,  equestrian  attempt;  but  in  truth,  there  is 
nothing  to  fear  for  even  the  most  inexperienced,  as  a 
guide  usually  leads  each  horse.  The  saddles  for  the 
use  of  ladies  are  provided  with  a  rail  upon  one  side, 
and  the  nature  of  the  paths  are  such,  that  it  would  be 
impossible  to  go  beyond  a  walk.  The  only  danger  is 
from  over-fatigue  in  descending  the  rocky,  slippery  way, 
often  like  flights  of  stairs ;  then,  exhausted  from  try- 
ing to  hold  back  in  the  saddle,  dizzy  from  gazing  into 
frightful  depths,  one  might  easily  become  unseated. 

When  our  guides  were  secured,  one  dejected  beast 
after  another  was  led  to  the  wooden  steps,  always  pro- 
vided for  mounting  and  dismounting;  we  climbed  to 
our  several  elevations  with  some  inward  quaking, 
fell  into  line,  —  for  single  file  is  the  invariable  rule,  — 
and  passed  out  of  the  village  by  immediately  begin- 
ning the  ascent,  describing,  in  our  saddles  every  known 
curve  and  angle,  as  the  path  became  more  and  more 
rough  and  precipitous.  For  guides  we  had  a  man 
with  a  rakish  air,  and  —  we  judged  from  his  gait  —  a 
wooden  leg,  who  tragically  wrung  the  perspiration 
from  his  red  flannel  shirt  at  intervals  ;  a  boy,  with  one 
of  those  open  countenances  only  saved  from  complete 
lateral  division  by  the  merciful  intei-position  of  the 
ears,  and  a  wizen-faced  old  man  of  so  feeble  an  ap- 
pearance as  to  excite  my  constant  sympathy,  since  his 
place  chanced  to  be  by  my  side.  He  assured  me  con- 
tinually that  he  was  not  tired,  though  before  half  of 


172  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   ABROAD. 

the  three  hours  of  the  ascent  had  passed,  his  pale  face 
belied  his  words.  He  was  quite  ready  to  converse, 
but  I  could  with  difficulty  understand  his  English. 
We  had  paused  at  a  wayside  shed  to  rest  the  horses, 
and  offer  some  refreshment  to  the  guides,  when  I  ad- 
dressed him  with,  — 

"What  is  that  you  are  drinking?  Is  it  goat's 
milk?" 

"  Noo,  leddy,"  was  his  reply.  "  It  is  coo's  ;  "  at  the 
same  time,  and  with  the  utmost  simplicity  and  good 
will,  offering  me  the  glass  from  which  he  had  been 
drinking,  that  I  might  taste  and  judge  for  myself. 

It  is  nearly  nine  miles  to  the  summit,  or  Righi- 
Kulm.  The  bndle-path  is  rocky,  rough,  and  steep, 
with  a  gi'assy  slope  upon  either  side,  sprinkled  at  this 
season  with  dandelions,  blue-bells,  and  odd  yellow  but- 
ter-cups. Often  tliis  slope  changed  to  a  precipice,  still 
smiling  with  flowers.  Upon  every  level  spot  orchards 
of  pear  trees  and  apricots  had  been  planted,  while 
eVfergreens  and  shrubs  innumerable  clung  to  the  moun- 
tain sides,  or  sprang  from  among  the  rocks. 

Tossed  about  wherever  they  could  find  a  resting- 
place,  were  great  boulders  of  pudding-stone,  overhang- 
ing the  path,  rising  in  our  way,  or  rolling  in  broken 
masses  under  the  horses'  feet.  Sometimes,  perched 
upon  a  natural  terrace,  was  a  chalet^  sheltered  from 
sweep  of  wind  or  avalanche  by  overhanging  rocks  half 
covered  with  ivy  and  dainty  clematis.  Occasionally  a 
beggar  barred  the  way  w^ith  outstretched  hand,  or 
offered  for  sale  some  worthless  trinket,  as  an  excuse 
for  asking  alms.  We  hugged  the  rocks  upon  one  side, 
as  other  lines  of  tourists  wound  down   to  meet  us, 


DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  173 

upon  horseback  or  afoot  with  alpenstocks  to  aid  their 
steps.  Peasants,  laden  like  beasts  of  burden,  passed 
as  we  paused  to  rest,  with  trunks,  provisions,  and 
even  the  red  tiles  for  the  new  hotel  above,  strapped 
upon  their  backs,  or  resting  there  on  wooden  frames. 
They  came  and  went ;  but  ever  present  were  the  won- 
derful glimpses  of  earth,  and  sky,  and  shimmering 
lake  far  down  below. 

At  the  half-way  house  we  turn  to  climb  a  gentle 
slope  upon  the  mountain  face.  On  either  side  the  land 
spreads  out  smooth  and  green.  It  had  been  hot  below. 
The  air  strikes  us  here  with  an  icy  chill.  A  party  of 
young  Englishmen  in  knickerbockers,  with  blue  veils 
tied  about  their  hais,  lean  over  the  railing  of  the  piazza, 
and  scan  us  as  we  pass.  A  Spaniard,  with  his  dark- 
faced  wife,  step  out  of  the  path  —  all  manner  of  oily 
words  dropping  from  their  lips.  We  reach  the  Righi- 
Staffel.  Suddenly,  upon  one  side,  the  land  falls  away. 
Among  the  reverberating  hills  echoes  the  jodel^  and 
from  a  terrace  far  below,  where  a  herd  of  dun  cows 
are  feeding,  rises  the  tinkle  of  sweet-toned  bells.  From 
every  path  —  and  there  are  many  now —  winds  a  slow 
procession.  The  grassy  slopes  are  all  alive  with  peo- 
ple ;  the  hotel  piazza,  as  we  pass,  is  crowded  with  trav- 
ellers. Still  they  pour  in  from  every  side.  Still  the 
mountain-peak  rises  above  us  as  we  go  on  joining 
other  trains,  and  leading  others  in  turn.  We  pass 
through  a  rough  gateway,  ascend  the  broken  rocks  that 
rise  like  steps,  follow  again  the  narrow  path,  and  reach 
at  last  the  hotel,  just  before  which  rises  the  Kulm. 

Talk  of  the  solitude  of  nature !  It  is  not  -found 
among  these  mountain  peaks,  grand  though  they  are. 


174  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

We  dismounted  in  the  midst  of  a  noisy  crowd.  Ex- 
clamations in  seemingly  every  known  tongue  echoed 
about  us,  as  one  party  after  another  amved  to  swell 
the  confusion.  The  hill  before  us  swarmed  with  tour- 
ists, who  had  come,  like  ourselves,  to  see  the  sun  rise. 
The  hotel,  and  even  the  adjoining  house  into  which 
the  former  overflows,  were  more  than  full.  Since  we 
had  taken  the  precaution  to  telegraph,  —  for  telegraphic 
communication  is  held  with  most  of  these  mountain 
resorts,  —  some  show  of  civility  awaited  us.  A  single 
room  was  given  to  the  four  ladies  of  our  party,  where, 
a  few  hours  later,  we  disposed  ourselves  as  best  we 
could.  It  was  only  a  rough  place,  with  bare  plastered 
walls,  and  unj^ainted  wooden  floor;  but  we  were  not 
disposed  to  be  fastidious.  Dropping  our  satchels,  we 
hastened  up  the  hill  before  the  house.  It  fell  in  a  preci- 
pice upon  the  other  side  —  to  what  frightful  depth  I 
know  not.  Down  below,  the  hills  spread  out  like  level 
land,  with  lakes  where  every  valley  should  be,  and 
villages,  like  white  dots  only,  upon  the  universal  green, 
among  which  the  River  Reuss  w^ound  like  a  silver 
thread.  But  above  and  over  all,  against  the  sky,  rose 
the  mountains  —  the  Bernese  Alps,  like  alabaster 
walls,  the  gates  of  which,  flung  back,  would  open 
heavenward. 

We  wandered  over  the  hillocks,  which  make  up  the 
summit,  until  the  sun  was  gone.  Gradually  the  dark- 
ness gathered  —  a  thickening  of  the  shadows  until  they 
seemed  almost  tangible.  There  was  no  flame  of  gold 
and  crimson  where  the  sun  had  disappeared  ;  there 
were  no  clouds  to  reflect  the  warm  yellow  light  that 
huug  about  the  west.     But  when  the  night  wrapped 


DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  175 

US  in,  the  little  lakes  down  below  gleamed  out  like 
stars. 

The  crowd  that  pushed  and  fairly  wedged  itself  into 
the  salle  a  manger^  when  dinner  was  announced  at 
eight  o'clock,  was  quite  beyond  belief  or  computation. 
Everybody  was  tired,  hungry,  and  impatient,  after  the 
ride  to  the  summit.    For  once,  silver  was  at  a  dis- 
count.   One  of  the  waiters  was  finally  bribed  to  give 
us  a  private*  room,  and  slyly  edged  our  party  into  a 
pantry,  where  he  brought  us,  at  immense  intervals,  a 
spoonful  of  soup  and  a  hot  plate  apiece,  after  which, 
his  resources  utterly  failing,  he  acknowledged  that  he 
could  do  no  more.   The  second  table  cVhote  was  served 
between  the  hours  of  ten  and  eleven  at  night,  and  con- 
sisted of  numerous  courses,  with  a  similarity  of  flavor, 
suggesting  one  universal  saucepan. 
/      It  was  midnight  when  we  finally  gained  our  rooms, 
/   and  threw  ourselves  upon  the  uncomfortable  beds.  The 
':     linen  was  wet,  rather  than  damp.    The  only  covering 
'     consisted  of  a  single  blanket,  and  the  duvet  or  down 
pillow,  always  found  upon  the  foot  of  continental  beds. 
We  imagined  that  the  sun  would  appear  with  the 
/  very  earliest  known  worm,  and  at  least  an  hour  before 
'  the  most  ambitious  lark,  and  dared  not  close  our  eyes, 
1  lest  they  should  not  open  in  time  to  gi-eet  him.    At 
last,  however,  sleep  overpowered  our  fears.      Katie's 
voice  roused  us. 
/       "  It  is  three  o'clock,"  she  said,  "  and  growing  light, 
/    and  I  believe  people  are  huiTying  up  the  hill." 
I         Profane  persons  should  avoid  the  Righi ;  it  is  a  place 
of  terrible  temptation.    "  Good  heavens !  "  we  responded, 
/    "  what  kind  of  a  sun  can  it  be   to  rise  at   such    an 
^    hour?" 


176  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Our  room  was  upon  the  ground  floor.    We  pushed 
open  the  shutters  and  peered  out,  facing  an  untimely- 
Gabriel,  just  raising  to  his  lips  an  Alpine  horn  some 
six  feet  in   length.     Evidently  the  hour  had  amved. 
/   We  thrust  our  feet  into  our  boots,  tied  our  hats  under 
our  chins,  and  ran  out  to  join  a  most  ridiculous  collection 
of  animated  scarecrows  like  ourselves.    Frowsy,  sleepy, 
cross,  and  caring  nothing  whatever  for  the  sun,  moon, 
or  stars,  we  stood  like  a  company  of  Bedlamites,  ankle 
I      deep  in  the    wet  grass   upon  the  summit.      No   eiun 
\     of  irreproachable   moral   character  and  well-regulated 
habits  would  appear  at  such  an  hour,  we  knew.     The 
{     light  strengthened  with  our  impatience.   .Every  half- 
closed  eye  was  fixed  upon  that  corner  of  the  heavens 
from   which  the   sun  would  sally  forth.     The  golden 
gates  had  opened.    A  red  banner  floated  out.    Tiny 
clouds  on  either  side  awaited  his  coming,  dressed  in 
crimson   and   yellow  livery.     Every  one   of  us  stood 
upon  tiptoe  —  the  heels  of  our  unbuttoned  boots  there- 
upon dropping  down.     One  collarless  tourist,  in  whose 
;   outward    adorning   suspenders   played   a   conspicuous 
'  part,  gravely  opened  his  guide-book,  found  the  place 
1  with  some  difficulty,  and  buried  his  head  in  the  pages, 
I  to  assure  himself  that  everything  was  proceeding  ac- 
.     cording  to  Murray.     Suddenly  the  white  faces  of  the 
\    distant  mountains  grew  purple  with  a  rage  which  we 
I    all  shared ;  the  flaming  banner  streamed  out  across  the 
\   east,  and  the  king  of  day,  with  most  majestic  step,  but 
/  frightfully  swollen,  tell-tale  countenance,   rose  in  the 
^   heavens.     I  am  sure  he  had  been  out  all  night. 

The  light  grew  clearer  now.     The  mountains    rose 
reluctantly,   and   shook   off  their  wrappings   of  mist. 


"Frowsy,  sleepy,  cross,  and  caring  nothing  whatever  for  the  sun,  moon,  or 
stars,  we  stood  like  a  company  of  Bedlamites,  ankle  deep  in  the  wet  grass 
upon  the  summit."     Page  176. 


DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  177 

The  little  clouds  doffed  their  crimson  finery.  The 
man  held  together  by  the  marvellous  complication  of 
shoulder-straps,  closed  his  guide-book  with  an  air  of 
entire  satisfaction.  Evidently  the  programme,  as  laid 
down  by  Murray,  had  been  accurately  carried  out. 
Everybody  exclaimed,  "  Wonderful !"  in  his  or  her 
native  tongue.  All  the  knickerbockers,  and  woollen 
shirts,  and  lank  water-proofs,  without  any  back  hair  to 
speak  o^  trotted  off  down  the  hill  to  be  metamorphosed 
into  human  beings,  and  prepare  for  breakfast,  even  to 
the  individual  who  had  been  stalking  about  in  a  white 
bed  blanket,  with  a  striped  border  —  though  printed 
notices  in  every  room  expressly  forbade  the  using  of 
bed  blankets  as  morning  wraps. 

When  breakfast  was  over,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
to  make  the  descent  to  Weggis,  and  return  to  Lucerne. 

After  a  time,  when  weariness  could  no  longer  be 
made  an  excuse  for  lingering,  we  prepared  for  a  tour 
through  Switzerland.  Engaging  carriages  to  meet  us 
at  Fluellen,  we  embarked  for  the  last  time  upon  the 
beautiful  lake,  winding  in  and  out  its  intricate  ways, 
shut  in  by  the  towering  cliffs  that  closed  before  us, 
only  to  re-open,  revealing  new  charms  as  we  rounded 
some  promontory,  and  the  lake  widened  again.  Upon 
the  bays  thus  formed,  villages  lean  against  the  moun- 
tain-side. Where  the  rocks  fall  abruptly  to  the  water, 
an  occasional  chalet  is  perched  upon  some  natural  ter- 
race, in  the  midst  of  an  orchard  or  scanty  garden.  As 
we  touched  at  these  lake  villages,  brown-faced  girls,  in 
scant  blue  petticoats  and  black  bodices,  and  with  faded 
hair  braided  in  their  necks,  offered  us  fruits  —  apricots 
and  cherries  —  in  pretty,  rustic  baskets. 
12 


178  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

One  of  these  green  spots,  high  among  the  rocks, 
forms  a  sloping  meadow,  touching  the  water  at  last. 
It  is  an  oasis  in  the  suri'ounding  desert  of  barren  rock. 
Do  you  know  why  the  grass  is  greener  here  than  else- 
where ?  why  the  sun  bestows  its  kisses  more  warmly  ? 
why  the  foUage  upon  the  scattered  walnut  and  chest- 
nut trees  is  thicker,  darker,  than  upon  those  on  other 
mountain-sides?  It  is  because  this  is  Griitlii- — the 
birthplace  of  Swiss  liberty.  Here,  more  than  five  hun- 
dred years  ago,  the  three  confederates  met  at  night  to 
plan  the  throwing  off  of  the  Austrian  yoke. 

Not  far  from  Griitlii,  resting  apparently  upon  the 
water,  at  the  base  of  one  of  these  cliffs,  is  what  appears 
at  first  sight  to  be  a  pretty  green  and  white  summer- 
house,  open  towards  the  lake.  It  is  Tell's  Chapel, 
built  upon  a  shelf  of  rock,  and  only  approachable  from 
the  water.  Here  —  so  the  story  runs  —  William  Tell 
sprang  ashore,  and  escaped  the  tyrant  Gessler.  We 
sweep  around  this  promontory  and  gain  the  last  bay 
where  lies  Fluellen  —  a  ragged  village,  swarming  with 
tourists,  vetturinos,  and  diligences.  Among  the  car- 
riages we  find  our  own.  It  is  a  roomy  landau,  lux- 
uriously lined  with  scarlet  velvet,  drawn  by  three 
horses  which  wear  tinkling  bells,  and  is  capable  of  carry- 
ing six  passengers.  The  top  is  thrown  back,  but  a  kind 
of  calash-shade  screens  from  the  sun  the  occupants  of 
what  we  should  call  the  driver's  seat.  Our  driver's 
place  is  a  nan*ow  board  behind  the  horses.  One  crack 
of  a  long  whip,  and  we  are  off  at  a  rattling  pace  over 
the  hard  road,  smooth  as  a  floor. 

For  the  first  day  we  are  to  follow  the  pass  of  St. 
Gothard  —  that  well-travelled    highway   which  leads 


DAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  179 

through  mountain  defiles  into  Italy.  We  dashed  by 
Altorf,  where  the  family  of  Queen  Victoria's  husband 
originated,  passing  the  open  square  in  which  William 
Tell  shot  the  apple  from  the  head  of  his  son.  An  old 
man  is  watering  a  horse  at  the  basin  of  the  stone  foun- 
tain which  marks  the  spot  where  the  father  stood.  All 
this  valley  is  sacred  to  the  memory  of  William  Tell. 
In  a  village  near  by  he  was  born;  in  the  mountain 
stream,  just  beyond,  he  is  said  to  have  lost  his  life  in 
the  attempt  to  save  a  drowning  child.  After  Altorf, 
the  road  winds  among  the  meadows,  though  the  moun- 
tains rise  on  every  side,  with  chalets  perched  upon 
points  which  seem  inaccessible,  so  steep  are  their  sides. 
It  is  haying  time,  and  men  and  women  are  at  work  in 
the  fields  and  upon  the  mountain-sides,  carefully  secur- 
ing every  blade  of  grass.  Once,  when  we  had  begun 
to  wind  up  the  mountains,  where  a  grass-grown  preci- 
pice fell  almost  sheer  to  the  valley  below,  a  girl  clung 
to  its  side,  and  pulled  with  one  hand  the  grass  from 
between  the  rocks,  thrusting  it  into  a  bag  that  hung 
about  her  neck.  She  paused  to  gaze  after  us  as  we 
dashed  by,  a  kind  of  dull  awe  that  never  rose  to  envy 
lighting  her  face  for  an  instant.  O,  the  hungry,  pitiful 
faces  of  these  dwellers  upon  the  heights !  the  pinched, 
starved  faces  of  the  little  ones  especially,  who  forgot  to 
smile  —  how  they  haunted  us  !  At  noon  we  sweep  up 
to  the  post-house  at  Amsteg,  with  a  jingle  of  bells,  a 
crack  of  the  whip,  and  an  annunciatory  shout  from  the 
driver.  There  is  no  village  that  we  can  see.  The  pi- 
azza of  the  post-house  is  filled  with  travellers,  lunching 
before  a  long  table ;  half  a  dozen  waiting  carriages  stand 
in  the  open  space  before  it ;  as  many  hostlers,  with  knit 


180  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

caps  upon  their  heads,  from  which  hang  long,  bright- 
colored  tassels,  are  busy  among  the  horses.  At  a  short 
distance  the  Reuss  River  rushes  past  the  house ;  upon 
its  bank  is  a  little  shop,  with  its  store  of  Swiss  curi- 
osities and  trinkets.  A  couple  of  girls  fill  a  tray  with 
the  dainty  wares,  and  cross  the  space  to  tempt  us. 
One  has  a  scarlet  handkerchief  knotted  under  her  hand- 
some, dark  face.  She  tunis  her  brown  cheek  to  her 
shoulder,  tossing  a  word  back  as  the  young  hostlers 
contrive  to  stand  in  her  way. 

One  by  one  the  carriages  take  up  their  loads  and 
go  on.  We  soon  follow  and  overtake  them,  winding 
slowly  up  among  the  rocks,  which  seem  ready  to  fall 
upon  us.  We  form  a  long  train,  a  strange  procession, 
bound  by  no  tie  but  that  of  common  humanity.  The 
meadows  and  soft,  green  mountain-slopes  are  left  be- 
hind as  we  ascend,  crossing  from  one  side  to  the  other 
by  arched  bridges  thrown  over  the  chasm,  at  the  foot 
of  which  foams  the  torrent.  Hicfher  and  hiojher  rise 
the  rent  rocks  —  bare,  black  walls,  seamed,  and  scarred, 
and  riven,  their  summits  reaching  to  the  sky.  They 
close  about  us,  shutting  out  everything  of  earth  and 
heaven,  save  a  narrow  strip  of  blue  far  above  all.  Even 
the  sweet  light  of  day  departs,  and  a  gloom  and  darkness 
as  of  a  brooding  tempest  falls  upon  us  as  the  way  nar- 
rows. Suddenly  a  mad,  foaming  torrent,  with  angry 
roar,  leaps  from  the  rocks  above,  to  toss,  and  writhe, 
and  moan  upon  the  rocks  below  the  arch  upon  which 
we  stand.  The  water  rushes  over  them,  and  dashes 
against  them.  It  swirls,  and  pants,  and  foams,  while 
high  above  it  all  we  stand,  our  faces  wet  with  the  spray, 
our  ears  deafened  by  the  terrible  roar.  Truly,  this  is 
"The  Devil's  Bridge." 


DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  181 

Think  of  armies  meeting  here,  as  they  did  in  the  old 
Napoleonic  wars,  contending  for  the  passage  of  the 
bridge  below.  Think  of  the  shrieks  of  the  wounded 
and  dying,  mingling  with  the  raging  of  the  waters. 
Think  of  the  white  foam  surging  red  among  the  rocks ; 
of  the  angry  ton'ent  beating  out  the  ebbing  life  of  those 
who  checked  its  flow.  Think  of  the  meeting  of  hosts 
in  mortal  conflict  where  no  eye  but  God's  could  witness 
it,  upon  which  not  even  bird  or  startled  beast  looked 
down.  It  was  like  a  dreadful  dream  from  which  we 
passed  —  as  through  deep  sleep  —  by  a  way  cut  in 
the  solid  rock  out  into  God's  world  again.  Still,  from 
one  side  of  the  road  rose  the  rocks  that  began  to 
show  signs  of  scanty  vegetation  now ;  from  the  other 
fell  the  precipice  to  the  torrent.  We  had  left  the  car- 
riages at  the  bridge,  and  singly  or  in  companies  toiled 
up  the  road  that  doubled  back  upon  itself  continually. 
Often  we  climbed  from  one  of  these  windings  to  the 
next  above,  by  paths  among  the  rocks,  leaving  the  car- 
riages to  make  the  turn  and  follow  more  slowly.  Often 
our  way  was  the  bed  of  a  last  year's  torrent,  or  our 
feet  touched  the  borders  of  the  stream,  as  we  pulled 
ourselves  up  by  the  shrubs  that  grew  among  the  rocks. 
The  ice-chill  in  the  air  brought  strength  for  the  time, 
and  perfect  exhilaration.  It  seemed  as  if  we  could  go 
on  forever,  scaling  these  mountain  heights. 

At  last  the  carriages  overtake  us,  and  we  reluctantly 
resume  our  places.  The  road  is  built  out  upon  the 
mountain-side.  It  offers  no  protection  against  the  fall 
of  the  precipice.  It  narrows  here.  We  look  down, 
and  say,  "  How  dreadful  a  careless  driver  might  make 
this  place!"   and,  shuddering,  draw  back.     Suddenly 


182  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

the  train  pauses,  and  down  the  long  hill  runs  a  shout, 
"A  carriage  has  gone  over."  We  spring  out,  and  run 
to  the  front.  "  Is  any  one  killed  ? "  "  No ;  thank 
God,  no  one  fe  harmed."  We  gather  upon  the  edge 
of  the  precipice.  Upon  the  rocks  below  lies  the 
body  of  a  horse  —  dead,  with  his  fore  feet  raised,  as 
though  pawing  the  air ;  and  mingling  with  the  white 
waters,  and  tossed  about  in  the  raging  stream,  are  the 
shattered  remains  of  a  carriage  and  its  contents. 

It  seems  that  two  young  men  fi-om  Canton  Zurich 
essayed  to  make  a  tour  of  the  mountains  with  their 
own  horse  and  carriage  —  a  foolhardy  experiment,  since 
none  but  tried  horses,  used  to  these  passes,  are  con- 
sidered safe  here.  All  went  Avell,  however,  until  they 
reached  this  point,  where  a  torrent  falls  down  the 
mountain-side  to  the  road,  under  which  it  passes  with 
a  fearful  noise.  It  might,  indeed,  startle  the  strongest 
nerves.  The  horse,  young  and  high-spinted,  shied  to 
the  edge  of  the  precipice,  then  reared  high  in  the  air. 
They  saw  that  he  must  go  over  when  his  fore  feet  came 
down,  and  springing  out,  barely  escaped  a  similar  fate. 
We  all  passed  the  spot  with  some  trepidation,  the  most 
of  us  preferring  to  walk ;  but  our  horses,  accustomed 
to  the  road,  were  utterly  unmoved  by  the  swooping 
toiTent.  At  night  we  reached  Andermatt  —  only  an 
untidy  little  village,  lying  in  one  of  these  upper  valleys, 
bustling  and  all  alive  around  the  door  of  its  one  inn ; 
but  how  green  and  beautiful  were  the  mountains,  shut- 
ting us  in  all  around,  after  the  desolation  through  which 
much  of  our  way  had  led !  Upon  the  side  of  the  near- 
est was  a  triangular  patch  of  wood-land,  —  firs  and 
spruces,  —  said  to  divide  and  break  the  force  of  the 


DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  183 

avalanches  that  sweep  down  here  in  the  spring.  It 
can  be  nothing  bUt  a  story  of  what  had  been  true  for- 
merly, when  the  wood  was  more  extensive.  Down 
these  mountains,  as  night  closed  in,  straggled  a  herd 
of  goats  to  the  milking,  tinkling  countless  little  bells, 
while  the  roar  of  the  Reuss,  which  we  had  followed 
until  it  was  now  hardly  more  than  a  mountain  brook, 
mingled  with  our  dreams  as  it  ran  noisily  through  the 
village. 

On  we  went  the  next  morning,  wrapping  ourselves 
warmly,  for  the  air  was  chill  as  November,  though  at 
Lucerne,  only  twenty-four  houi-s  before,  we  had  suffered 
a  torrid  heat.  Just  beyond  Andermatt,  at  HoSpenthal, 
we  left  the  St.  Gothard,  to  follow  the  Furka  pass.  All 
around  was  ban-en  desolation,  as  we  went  on,  still  as- 
cending, leaving  every  sign  of  human  life  behind. 
Rocky  and  black  the  mountains  rose,  bearing  only  lich- 
ens and  ferns.  Occasional  patches  of  snow  appeared, 
lying  in  the  beds  of  the  last  year's  toiTents,  or  scattered 
along  beside  the  road.  But  here,  where  Nature  had 
bestowed  little  to  soften  and  beautify,  she  had  spread 
upon  the  barren  land,  and  tucked  in  among  the  rocks,  a 
covering  of  exquisitely  delicate  flowers.  You  cannot 
realize,  until  you  have  seen  them,  the  variety,  beauty, 
and  profusion  of  the  Alpine  flowers.  Looking  back  in 
memory  upon  the  bare  rocks,  doomed  to  stand  here 
through  all  time  in  solitude  and  in  the  midst  of  desola- 
tion, as  though  in  expiation  of  some  sin,  it  is  pleasant 
to  remember  that  at  their  feet  and  in  their  clefts  these 
little  flowers  nestle  and  bloom. 

We  gathered  nosegays  and  made  snowballs,  and  at 
noon  gained  the  summit  of  the  Furka,  and  rested  an  hour 


184  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

or  two  at  the  inn  —  the  only  sign  of  house  or  hut  we 
had  seen  since  morning.  The  rough  salons,  the  pas- 
sage, the  doorway,  even  the  space  outside,  were  alive 
with  tourists.  It  is  a  continual  jar  upon  one's  sense  of 
the  fitness  of  things,  something  to  which  you  never 
become  thoroughly  accustomed,  until  all  freshness  of 
sight-seeing  is  passed — this  coming  suddenly  upon  the 
world  in  the  midst  of  the  unutterable  solitude  of  na- 
ture ;  this  plunging  into  a  crowd  dressed  in  the  latest 
style,  and  discussing  universal  frivolities  where  the 
very  rocks  and  hills  seem  to  stand  in  silent  adoration. 
But  after  the  first  moment  you,  too,  form  one  of  the 
frivolous  throng,  the  sight  and  sound  of  which  shock 
the  sensibilities  of  the  next  comer. 

From  the  inn  a  tongue  -  of  land,  green  and  dotted 
with  flowers,  falls  into  the  valley  below.  On  either 
side  rises  a  mountain,  scarred  by  the  torrents  dried 
away  now,  and  stained  this  day  with  the  last  year's 
snow,  while  beyond  —  ever  beyond,  like  some  heav- 
enly heights  we  vainly  strove  to  gain — rose  the 
Bernese  Alps. 

Fi'om  the  summit  of  the  Furka  we  descended  to  the 
Rhone  glacier  by  one  of  the  zigzag  mountain  roads. 
Looking  down  over  the  edge,  we  could  see  below,  the 
ways  we  were  yet  to  follow  on  the  mountain  face  be- 
fore accomplishing  the  descent.  The  horses  dashed 
down  at  a  flying  pace.  The  inclination  of  the  road 
was  not  sufiicient  to  alarm ;  but  the  turns  are  always 
so  frightfully  abrupt  as  to  make  it  seem  as  though  the 
leader  must  dash  off".  But  no;  he  invariably  swung 
around  just  upon  the  outer  edge,  held,  it  seemed  some- 
times, by  the  traces,  and  with  a  crack  of  the  driver's 


DAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND,  185 

whip  was  off  again  before  our  fears,  if  we  had  any, 
could  find  words. 

One  of  these  abrupt  turns  fairly  hangs  over  the 
glacier,  where  the  icy  river  has  fallen  into  broken 
masses  from  a  higher  point,  before  spreading  out  in 
the  narrow  valley  just  here  where  it  ends.  Only  a 
short  distance  from  the  foot  of  the  glacier  is  the  inn, 
with  its  scattered  out-buildings,  where  we  were  to 
spend  the  night.  The  sheer  descent  from  the  summit 
of  the  Furka  is  only  about  half  a  mile ;  but  though  our 
horses  had  galloped  the  whole  distance,  and  the  inn 
was  in  sight  all  the  time,  we  were  three  hours  reaching 
it ;  so  many  turns  did  the  road  make  upon  the  face  of 
the  mountain. 

It  was  a  gloomy  valley,  shut  in  by  mountams,  and 
suiTounded  by  lesser  hills  all  soaked  and  dripping  with 
icy  streams  that  chilled  the  air.  We  gained  the  foot 
of  the  glacier  from  the  inn  by  a  rough  path  over  and 
among  the  rocks,  and  stones,  and  heaps  of  gravel  it 
had  brought  down  and  deposited  here.  From  beneath 
the  solid  mass  of  ice  flowed  a  hundred  shallow  streams, 
which,  uniting,  form  the  beginning  of  the  River  Rhone. 
We  penetrated  for  a  short  distance  the  gallery  cut  into 
the  glacier,  sun-ounded  and  shut-down  upon  by  the 
walls  and  ceiling,  of  a .  deep  blue  color,  and  were  pre- 
ceded by  an  old  man,  who  awoke  the  echoes  by  uttering 
a  series  of  broken  cries.  What  with  the  echoes  and 
honible  chill,  the  place  seemed  most  unearthly,  and 
we  were  glad  to  retreat. 

The  roar  of  torrents,  and  hardly  less  thunderous 
noise  of  departing  diligences,  awakened  us  the  next 
morning.     We  were  soon  off  upon  the  road,  skirting 


186  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

the  mountains,  rolling  through  the  pleasant  valleys, 
and  passing  village  after  village  now.  They  seemed 
silent  and  deserted,  their  occupants  perhaps  busy  in 
the  fields,  or  serving  at  the  inns,  or  among  the  moun- 
tains as  guides.  One  was  a  mass  of  ruins,  thrown 
down  in  the  bed  of  a  torrent,  among  which  a  few  dull- 
faced  peasants  were  at  work,  with  a  hopeless,  aimless 
air,  that  promised  little.  A  mountain  stream,  swollen 
to  a  flood  by  melting  snows,  had  swept  it  away  in  a 
night. 

At  noon  we  lunched  at  Viesch — a  slipshod,  un- 
washed village,  by  the  side  of  the  young  Rhone,  which 
so  far,  in  its  dirty,  chalk-white  color,  was  not  unlike  the 
white-headed  children  that  played  upon  its  banks. 
Some  of  the  party  left  the  horses  to  their  noon  rest, 
and  strayed  out  upon  the  road  beyond  the  village.  On 
its  outskirts  was  a  fine  new  church,  of  stone.  If  only 
something  of  its  beauty  could  but  come  into  the  every- 
day hves  of  the  poor  people  here  !  We  sat  down  upon 
the  steps  to  wait.  Across  the  road  was  an  orchard, 
roughly  fenced  in;  beside  it  one  of  the  picturesque 
Swiss  peasant  houses  —  all  steps,  and  queer  old  gal- 
leries, from  which  a  Uttle  tow-headed  girl  stared  out 
at  us  in  open-eyed  wonder,  as  we  blew  the  down  from 
the  dried  dandelions  we  had  pulled  along  the  way, 
and  questioned  if,  in  our  far-off  homes,  our  mothers 
wanted  us ! 

It  seemed  as  though  we  could  descend  no  farther ; 
and  yet,  after  sweeping  through  a  valley,  a  sudden  turn 
would  disclose  another,  far  below,  to  which  this  was  as 
a  mountain.  So  down  we  sped  the  whole  day  long ; 
once  by  a  frightfully-nan-ow  zigzag  road,  the  worst  by 


DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  187 

far  of  any  we  had  seen ;  passing  still  through  the  vil 
lages  so  charming  in  the  distance,  but  dirty,  and  full 
of  odors  by  no  means  pleasing,  as  we  drew  near. 
At  night  we  rattled  into  the  paved  square  before  the 
inn  at  Brieg,  just  as  the  first  drops  of  a  coming  shower 
wet  its  stones. 

This  was  evidently  something  more  than  a  village. 
The  houses  were  plastered,  instead  of  being  of  wood 
with  a  rich,  burnt-sienna  color,  like  those  we  had  seen 
along  the  road  through  the  day.  They  were  thickly 
clustered  together,  and  from  their  midst  rose  the  four 
tun-ets  of  a  chateau.  Our  inn  was  a  delightfully-dingy 
old  place.  It  had  been  an  Ursuline  convent,  and 
abounded  in  queer,  dark  passages,  rough  stone  stair- 
ways, and  old  wooden  galleries  overlooking  the  square. 
One  of  our  rooms  had  been  a  part  of  the  convent  chap- 
el, and  was  still  lighted  by  a  window  just  beneath  the 
groined  roof.  Here  we  braided  our  hair,  and  knotted 
our  ribbons,  and  dreamed,  in  the  twilight  that  followed 
the  rain,  of  the  hopeless 'ones  who  had  sought  comfort 
in  other  days  within  these  walls,  and  fell  asleep  at 
last,  knowing  full  well  that  the  fringe  of  many  an  old 
prayer  was  still  caught  and  held  in  the  arches  high 
over  our  heads.  We  walked  up  through  the  town  the 
next  morning,  to  the  beginning  of  the  Simplon  Pass. 
Somewhere  in  the  narrow  sreets  we  passed  the  old 
chateau,  and  pressed  our  faces  against  the  bars  of  a 
gate,  in  order  to  gain  some  idea  as  to  the  domestic 
economy  of  the  family  which  had  bestowed  upon  Brieg 
its  air  of  importance.  But  the  chateau  had  degenerated 
into  a  brewery,  and  the  court-yard  was  filled  with  old 
carts,  clumsy  and  broken. 


188  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Farther  up  the  hill  the  door  of  a  Httle  chapel  stood 
invitingly  open,  waiting  for  stray  worshippers,  or  a 
chance-burdened  heart  (for  even  so  far  away  as  Brieg, 
hearts  do  grow  heavy,  I  doubt  not).  Something  in  its 
narrow,  whitewashed  poverty  touched  our  sympathies. 
It  is  rare  indeed  in  these  countries  to  find  a  chapel 
without  at  least  some  votive  offering  to  make  it  beauti- 
ful in  the  eyes  of  the  simple  people :  here  was  only  a 
crucifix,  and  we  pleased  ourselves  with  the  fancy  that 
when  the  ships  come  in  that  we  sent  out  as  children  — 
laden  with  hopes  that  were  to  be  bartered  for  treas- 
ures—  we  would  return,  and  hang  the  walls  with 
pictures,  and  make  the  whole  place  wonderful  in  the 
eyes  that  had  seen  only  its  bareness.  The  shower  the 
night  before  had  laid  the  dust,  and  the  drive  that  morn- 
ing was  most  enjoyable.  Following  the  course  of  the 
noisy  Rhone,  we  reached  Sierre  at  noon,  where  we  left 
the  carriages  with  regret,  and  took  the  railway  train  to 
Martigny. 


AMONG  THE  EVERLASTING  HILLS.     189 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AMONG  THE   BVEELASTING  HILLS. 

The  quaint  inn.  —  The  Falls  of  the  Sallenches,  and  the  Gorge 
de  Trient.  —  Shopping  in  a  Swiss  village.  —  A  mule  ride  to 
Chamouni.  —  Peculiarities  of  the  animals.  —  Entrance  to  the 
village.  —  Egyptian  mummies  lifted  from  the  mules.  —  Rainy 
days.  —  Chamois.  —  The  Mer  de  Glace.  —  "  Look  out  of 
your  window."  —  Mont  Blanc.  —  Sallenches.  —  A  diligence 
ride  to  Geneva.  —  Our  little  old  woman.  —  The  clownish 
peasant. — The  fork  in  the  road.  —  "Adieu." 

OUR  hotel  here  at  Martigny,  was  even  more  sug- 
gestive of  romance  than  the  one  at  Brieg.  It 
had  been  a  monastery,  and  was  an  old,  yellow-washed 
structure  facing  the  street,  with  a  rambling  garden 
surrounded  by  high  walls,  clinging  to  it  in  the  rear. 
Low,  dark  rooms,  with  bare,  unpainted  floors,  like  the 
waves  of  the  sea  in  smoothness,  were  given  to  some  of 
our  party,  while  Mrs.  K.  and  I  were  consigned  again, 
with  singular  appropriateness,  to  what  had  been  the 
chapel.  Its  windows  overlooked  the  straggling,  half- 
dead  trees,  and  bare,  hard-baked  earth  of  the  open 
space  before  the  door,  which  was  always  being  crossed 
by  strings  of  mules  ornamented  with  bright  saddle- 
cloths, and  still  further  with  the  ubiquitous  tourist 
arrayed  in  every  known  costume  of  the  period.    Vil- 


190  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

lage  girls,  too,  passed  under  the  trees,  knitting  as  they 
went,  and  honible  creatures  afflicted  with  the  goitre  — 
that  curse  of  this  region  —  which  we  met  at  every 
turn  now. 

To  gain  the  long,  low  refectory  where  we  dined,  or 
to  pass  from  one  room  to  another,  necessitated  crossing 
the  brick-paved  cloisters,  upon  which  all  the  doors 
of  the  second  story  opened.  Here  a  row  of  columns 
encircled  a  narrow,  inner  court-yard  —  so  narrow  as  to 
be  nothing  more  than  a  slit  in  the  walls,  yet  wide 
enough  to  allow  the  shimmering  sunlight  to  drop  down 
upon  the  vines  twined  around  the  columns,  and  light 
the  whole  dingy  interior  into  a  weird,  strange  beauty. 

We  rode  out  to  the  Falls  of  the  Sallenches, —  one  of 
the  mist  veils  left  hanging  from  many  of  these  Swiss 
mountains  by  the  water-sprites,  —  and  penetrated  the 
Gorge  de  Trient  upon  the  shaky  gallery  that  follows 
its  windings ;  wandered  about  and  beyond  the  town ; 
stole  into  an  old  church,  and  brought  away  the  mem- 
ory of  a  lovely  virgin  face;  and  haunted  the  dingy 
shops  in  the  vain  hope  of  making  a  few  necessary  pur- 
chases. These  shops  were  not  unlike  our  New  Eng- 
land country  stores  in  their  combined  odors  and  con- 
fused incapabilities.  Behind  the  counters,  or  more 
likely  sitting  in  the  doorway  with  the  inevitable  blue 
knitting  in  hand,  were  old  women,  of  hard,  baked-apple 
faces,  whose  ideas  of  the  luxuries  of  a  woman's  ward- 
robe were  so  far  below  what  we  considered  its  necessa- 
ries, that  we  parted  in  mutual  surprise,  to  say  the 
least,  and  without  gain  on  either  side. 

Sabbath  morning,  English  church  service  was  held 
in  the  parlor  of  one   of  the  hotels;   after  which  a 


AMONG   THE  EVERLASTING  HILLS.       191 

clergyman  in  gown  and  bands  discoursed  from  the 
text,  "  And  there  shall  be  no  more  sea,"  —  a  peculiarly 
comforting  hope  to  some  of  us. 

Monday  morning,  we  mounted  the  horses  and  mules 
waiting  in  dejected  impatience  before  the  door,  and 
stai-ted  upon  the  long  ride  of  twenty-two  miles  to 
Chamouni  by  the  Tete  Noh*  Pass.  A  wide,  pleasant 
avenue,  shaded  by  walunt  trees,  led  out  of  the  town  ; 
after  which  we  began  to  ascend  the  gently-sloping 
mountain-sides,  passing  occasional  villages,  and  be- 
sieged by  beggars  and  venders  of  fruit,  as  usual.  In- 
deed, these  beggars  are  so  constant  in  their  attendance 
and  importunity  that  one  forgets  to  mention  them,  un- 
less recalling  flies  and  similar  swarming  annoyances. 

The  scenery,  as  we  went  on,  was  often  grand,  always 
interesting ;  the  sky  overcast,  but  at  times  the  clouds, 
drifting  apart,  disclosed  peaks  or  "needles"  so  far 
above  the  mountains  about  us  as  to  seem  a  revelation  of 
heaven.  The  path  was  treacherous  and  rough  —  skirt- 
ing precipices,  descending  in  rocky  steps  or  slippery 
mire,  and  crossing  mountain  streams  by  narrow,  inse- 
cure bridges.  Single  file  is  the  invariable  rule  in  all 
these  mountain  excursions,  and  after  a  time  the  isola- 
tions of  this  mode  of  travelling  adds  to  its  wearisome- 
ness.  Solitude  is  delightful ;  but  as  some  one  has  said, 
"  How  pleasant  it  is  to  have  a  friend  near  by  to  whom 
you  may  remark,  '  How  delightful  is  solitude ! ' " 

As  you  follow  the  windings  of  the  naiTow,  steep  path, 
you  have  a  choice  between  addressing  the  back-  of  the 
one  who  precedes  you,  and  throwing  a  remark  over  your 
shoulder  to  those  who  come  after.  Invohmtarily  you 
fall   to   studying  the   cui-ves  of  the  former,  and   are 


192  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Utterly  indifferent  to  the  fact  that  the  latter  are  proba- 
bly meditating  upon  the  intricacies  of  your  back  hair. 
Mule-riding  is  conducive  to  grace  of  neither  soul  nor 
body ;  still  you  know  you  are  not  making  such  a  spec- 
tacle of  yourself  as  did  the  woman  just  passed  — who 
twisted  about  in  the  saddle  as  though  worked  along 
by  rotary  motion.     Perhaps  not. 

As  you  leave  the  villages  to  plunge  into  the  woods, 
the  flies  swarm  like  beggars ;  and  it  is  only  when  the 
guides  have  cut  boughs  from  the  trees,  which  you 
wave  before  you,  wickedly  suggesting  palm  branches, 
that  you  can  proceed  with  tolerable  comfort,  and  with- 
out the  fear  of  an  unexpected  toss  in  the  air,  as  one 
kick  after  another  runs  down  the  line. 

Each  horse  or  mule  has  his  own  slight  peculiarities 
of  habit  and  disposition.  I  recall  one  whose  inordinate 
curiosity  led  him  to  walk  always  upon  the  verge  of 
the  precipices,  so  that  the  rider's  feet  overhung  the 
frightful  depths.  Murray  says  it  is  best  to  allow  these 
animals  to  choose  their  own  paths.  But  to  hang  sus- 
pended between  heaven  and  earth  at  the  mercy  of 
a  strap  and  a  mule,  will  shake  one's  faith,  even  in 
Murray. 

My  horse  this  day  was  possessed  of  the  dreamy,  mel- 
ancholy nature  of  a  poet,  with  the  attendant  lack  of 
ambition.  Every  time  we  wound  funereally  through  a 
village,  he  would  walk  deliberately  to  the  mounting- 
steps,  and  wait  most  suggestively.  Indeed,  an  air  of 
abstraction  characterized  all  his  movements;  even 
when,  as  we  approached  these  villages,  raising  his  head, 
he  would  seem  to  sniff  the  odors  of  Araby  the  Blest ; 
which  was  a  mistake,  a  delusion  of  his  fancy  shared  by 


AMONG   THE  EVERLASTING  HILLS.      193 

none  of  the  others  of  the  party.  That  he  was  without 
pride  I  must  confess.  No  stable  did  we  pass  so  poor, 
none  so  mean,  that  he  was  ashamed  to  pause  and  offer 
to  enter  with  meek  obdurateness. 

Poetic  as  was  his  temperament,  his  appetites  were  de- 
veloped in  a  remarkable  degree.  Once  upon  a  nan'ow 
bridge  we  met  two  walking  haystacks,  out  fi'om  which 
peered  great,  blue  eyes.  If  the  size  of  his  mouth  had 
corresponded  at  all  to  his  desires,  they  would  have 
vanished  from  sight  in  a  twinkling ;  as  it  was,  they 
barely  escaped.  Whether  or  not  insatiable  thirst  is  an 
attribute  of  a  poet,  I  do  not  know ;  but  each  stream 
which  crossed  the  path, — and  the  whole  country  seemed 
liquidizing,  —  each  drinking-trough  beside  the  way, — 
and  to  my  excited  imagination  they  seemed  to  form  an 
unbroken  line,  —  was  an  irresistible  temptation.  It  was 
only  by  shouting,  "  Yeep !  Yeep ! "  in  staccato  chorus, 
and  vigorously  applying  the  palm  branches,  thus  en- 
gaging his  attention  and  diverting  his  thoughts  into 
less  watery  channels,  that  we  succeeded  in  making  any 
progress  whatever.  Under  this  disciplinary  process  his 
nature  was  at  last  so  far  subdued  that  he  would  have 
passed  the  ocean  itself  without  a  sigh,  I  am  sure. 

There  was  a  rest  of  an  hour  at  the  Tete  Noir  inn  at 
noon,  shut  in  by  the  firs,  and  rocks,  and  mountains, 
then  we  went  on  to  Argentiore,  where  we  gladly  ex- 
changed the  horses  and  mules  for  some  low,  open  carts 
with  a  couple  of  villagers  in  blue  blouses  for  drivers. 
In  these  we  accomplished  the  remaining  three  or  four 
miles,  and  made  a  triumphal  entry  into  Chamouni. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  crawled  up  the 
narrow,  thronged  street  to  the  Hotel  Royal,  from  which 
13 


194  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

the  English,  French,  and  American  flags  were  flying. 
The  clouds  had  dropped  lower  and  lower,  until  a  fine 
mist  was  beginning  to  deepen  into  rain,  and  the  guides 
and  tourists  detained  in  the  village  fairly  jostled  each 
other  at  the  intersection  of  the  two  principal  streets, 
which  seemed  to  form  the  village  Exchange.  The  mire 
of  the  streets  was  thickly  stamped  with  hoof-prints 
and  the  marks  from  the  nails  that  stud  the  shoe-soles 
of  the  mountain  climbers.  Line  after  line  of  dolefuV 
looking  objects,  which  might  prove  Egyptian  mum- 
mies when  unwrapped,  were  being  lifted  from  still 
more  sorry  looking  beasts  before  the  door  of  the  hotel, 
and  assaying  to  mount  the  steps,  with  a  stiffiiess  and 
angularity  of  movement  in  which  we  all  sympathized. 

Indeed,  after  dinner,  when  a  bright  fire  was  lighted 
in  the  long  salon  where  the  various  parties  gathered 
to  read,  write,  look  over  stereoscopic  views,  or  chat 
among  themselves,  it  was  amusing,  as  well  as  pitiable 
to  observe  the  abortive  attempts  at  ease  and  flexibility 
as  these  individuals  crossed  the  polished  floor,  to  hear 
the  groans  smothered  to  sighs  as  they  resumed  their 
seats.  "  Mules  !"■  whispered  the  girls,  nudging  each 
other,  and  mindful  of  the  delight  which  misery  is  said 
to  find  in  company. 

All  the  next  day  the  rain  dripped  down  upon  the 
village  from  the  heavy  clouds  that  hid  the  mountains. 
Everybody  improved  the  opportunity  to  write  letters, 
or  yawned  over  the  books  scattered  about  the  salon. 
Among  them  was  a  well-thumbed  copy  of  "  Artemus 
Ward,  His  Book."  At  the  foot  of  each  i^age  the  local 
allusions  of  the  jokes  were  explained,  I  remember. 
Out  in  the  street,  umbrellas  were  dodging  about  from 


AMONG   THE  EVERLASTING  HILLS.      195 

one  shop  to  another.  These  rainy  days,  though  a  loss 
to  the  guides,  are  harvest  times  for  the  shopkeepers. 
Photographs  and  stereoscopic  views  of  the  mountains, 
the  glaciers,  and  daring  climbers  hanging  on  by  their 
eyelids,  abound  here,  with  any  amount  of  wood  and 
chamois  (?)  horn  carving  and  crystal  ornaments.  Speak- 
ing of  chamois-horn,  if  you  expect  to  see  in  Switzer- 
land—  as  you  do  in  geographies  —  chamois  perched 
upon  every  crag,  preparatory  to  bounding  from  peak  to 
peak,  you  will  be  grievously  disappointed.  Not  a  cham- 
ois will  greet  your  eyes.  We  passed  —  I  have  forgotten 
where  —  a  pen  in  which,  by  paying  a  certain  sum,  we 
might  look  upon  a  veritable  live  chamois ;  but  we  had  no 
desire  to  see  the  incarnation  of  liberty  thus  degraded. 

We  waited  two  days  for  the  uplifting  of  the  clouds, 
making,  in  the  mean  time,  an  excursion  up  the  Montan- 
vert  to  overlook  the  Mer  de  Glace — which  is  not  a 
sea,  but  a  river  of  ice,  like  all  the  glaciers  that  have 
worked  themselves  down  into  these  valleys.  We  re- 
tired one  night  with  the  cloud  curtains  spread  low  over 
our  heads ;  the  next  morning  a  voice  from  outside  of 
our  door  called, "  Look  out  of  your  window."  We  sprang 
up,  seized  the  cord  of  the  shutters,  and  behold !  a  new 
heaven  and  new  earth !  Every  vestige  of  cloud  was 
gone.  The  mountains  were  bathed  in  sunlight,  vivid 
green  were  the  peaks  before  us,  which  had  never  met 
•  our  gaze  until  now,  while  behind  the  nearest,  against 
the  deep  blue  of  the  summer  sky,  rose  the  three  vast 
white  steps  which  lead  heavenward,  the  highest  of  which 
men  call  Mont  Blanc.  All  that  morning,  as  we  de- 
scended fi'om  the  valley  of  Chamouni  to  Sallenches,  we 
turned  continually  to  look  back ;  and  still,  white  and 


196  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

beautiful,  but  growing  less  in  the  distance,  rose  the 
triple  domes. 

We  had  taken  a  carriage  to  Sallenches :  here  we  find 
places  in  the  open  diligence  for  Geneva.  We  pause  in 
the  first  village  through  which  we  pass,  where  a  knot 
of  people  gathers  about  a  round  little  old  woman.  She 
wears  a  wide-rimmed  hat  over  her  neat  frilled  cap,  and 
carries  another  upon  her  arm.  Her  waist  is  dimly  de- 
fined by  the  strings  of  a  voluminous  apron,  and  her 
mind  entirely  distracted  by  the  cares  attendant  upon 
the  disposal  of  a  cotton  bag,  a  wicker  basket,  an  old 
umbrella,  and  a  box,  which  half  a  dozen  men  seize  upon 
with  clumsy  hands,  in  good-natured  ofiiciousness,  and 
thrust  into  the  baggage  compartment,  while  the  women 
and  children  press  about  her,  kissing  the  rough,  ruddy 
cheeks,  and  uttering  what  we  aro  sure  must  be  bless- 
ings —  odds  and  ends  of  which  float  up  to  us.  Evi- 
dently the  little,  old  woman  is  going  a  journey.  Aided 
by  a  dozen  rough,  helpful  hands,  she  climbs  the  ladder 
to  her  place  beside  us,  with  a  deprecatory  though  cheer- 
ftil  '•''  Bon  jour''''  to  us  all,  subsiding  into  a  corner,  where 
Bhe  is  immediately  submerged  as  her  belongings  are 
showered  down  upon  her;  last  of  all  a  crumpled  letter 
is  tossed  into  her  lap. 

The  driver  mounts  to  his  place;  she  leans  over;  a 
perfect  gust  of  blessings,  and  kisses,  and  adieus  follow 
us,  as  with  a  crack  of  the  whip  the  horses  spring  away, 
and  we  leave  the  village  far  behind. 

Suddenly  —  for  we  have  turned  away  our  faces  —  the 
little  old  woman's  hand  is  plunged  into  the  cotton  bag 
under  our  feet.  We  venture  to  look  around.  The  tears 
have  gone ;  her  face  beams  like  the  sun,  as  she  brings 


"  Evidently  the  little  old  woman  Is  going  a  journey."     Page  196. 


AMONG   THE  EVERLASTING  HILLS,      197 

out  of  the  depths  a  couple  of  eggs.  Another  dive, 
and  she  emerges  with  a  piece  of  bread.  A  pinch  of 
salt  is  added  fi-om  the  basket,  and  her  breakfast  is  com- 
plete. She  hospitably  offers  a  share  to  each  of  us. 
We  decline ;  and  as  a  shadow  dims  the  brightness  of 
her  face,  Katie  adds  quickly,  — 

"  We  have  had  two  breakfasts  already." 

The  little  old  woman  rolls  her  round,  blue  eyes  to 
heaven,  with  a  pious  ejaculation.  Such  lavish  extrav- 
agance is  beyond  her  comprehension. 

"That  is  like  you  rich  people,"  she  says.  "  We  are 
only  too  happy  if  the  good  God  sends  us  owe."  And 
she  relapses  into  a  wondering  silence. 

"Does  madame  travel  far?"  we  venture  presently. 

"Ah,  yes."  And  she  shakes  her  head  slowly. 
Words  cannot  express  the  distance,  it  is  so  great. 

"  But  she  has  been  this  way  before  ?  "  we  go  on. 

"No,  never  before."  And  again  the  round,  blue 
eyes  seek  heaven,  and  again  a  deep  sigh  follows  the 
words.  She  has  finished  her  lunch,  and,  diving  under 
our  feet,  emerges  after  a  time  with  a  box,  which, 
opened,  discloses  a  small  store  of  peppermints.  This 
she  offers  with  some  hesitation,  and  we  each  hasten  to 
accept  one,  her  countenance  beaming  more  and  more 
as  they  disappear.  "  Given  to  hospitality,"  the  little 
old  woman  has  been,  we  know. 

When  the  box  is  with  difficulty  replaced,  the  string 
of  the  bag  drawn,  the  basket  arranged  to  her  satisfac- 
tion, the  umbrella  placed  at  a  pleasing  angle,  she  bal- 
ances herself  upon  the  edge  of  the  seat,  and  glances 
fearfully  from  side  to  side  as  we  swing  along  the  smooth 
road.  Once,  when  the  wheel  passes  over  a  stone,  she 
seems  to  murmur  a  prayer. 


198  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

"  Madame  is  not  afraid  ?  "  we  say. 

"  O,  very  much.  These  diligences  are  most  danger- 
ous." And  now  she  is  glancing  over  her  shoulder  at  a 
rocky  wall  of  mountains  which  follows  the  road  at  a  dis- 
tance. "They  might  fall."  And  she  shudders  with 
the  thought.  We  assure  her  that  it  is  impossible  ;  but 
she  has  heard  of  a  rock  falling  upon  a  diligence,  and 
thinks  it  was  upon  this  road.  And  all  the  horror  of 
the  fearful  catastrophe  is  depicted  upon  her  face. 
Gradually  we  leam  that  the  little  old  woman  has  never 
travelled  in  a  diligence  before ;  that  she  has  never  be- 
fore made  any  journey,  in  fact.  For  forty  years  she 
has  kept  the  house  of  the  cure  in  her  native  village. 
Now,  she  tells  us  with  a  sigh,  and  uplifted  eyes,  he  has 
"become  dead,"  and  she  is  obliged  to  seek  a  home 
elsewhere  among  strangers.  Here  she  turns  away  her 
eyes,  which  grow  dim  as  her  smile,  and  for  a  moment 
forgets  her  fears. 

We  are  approaching  a  village.  She  hastily  searches 
her  basket  and  brings  out  the  crumpled  letter  which  had 
been  thrown  into  her  lap.  As  we  dart  through  the 
nan*ow  street  and  across  an  open  square,  she  leans  out, 
utters  a  word  in  a  sharp,  excited  tone,  and,  to  our 
surprise,  throws  the  letter  far  out  into  the  dust  of  the 
street.  An  idle  lounger  in  the  square  starts  at  her 
voice,  runs  heavily  across  the  street,  and  picks  it  up. 
She  sinks  back,  all  cheerful  smiles  again.  She  has 
chanced  upon  the  very  man  to  whom  the  letter  was 
addressed. 

The  dust  rolls  up  from  the  great  wheels.  She  ex- 
changes the  hat  upon  her  head  for  the  one  over  her 
arm,  covering  the  foimer  carefully  with  a  comer  of 


AMONG   THE  EVERLASTING  HILLS.      199 

her  apron.  This,  she  tells  us,  as  she  arranges  the 
second  upon  her  head,  she  was  accustomed  to  wear 
when  she  picked  vegetables  of  a  morning  in  the  garden 
of  the  good  (mre.  And  the  sighs  return  with  the 
recollection  of  her  master. 

The  day  wears  on  with  heat  and  sifting  dust.  By 
and  by,  at  another  village,  a  filthy,  dull-faced  peasant 
clambers  up  the  ladder  and  stumbles  into  a  vacant 
place.  We  shrink  away  from  him  in  disgust.  Our 
little  old  woman  only  furtively  draws  aside  her  neat 
petticoats.  Soon  she  engages  him  in  conversation. 
We  see  her  lean  far  forward  with  intense,  questioning 
gaze  upon  the  distance  where  he  points  with  dirt-be- 
grimed finger.  Then  with  a  sigh  which  seems  to  come 
from  the  baggage  compartment  beneath  us,  so  very 
deep  and  long-drawn  it  is,  she  turns  to  us.  She,  too, 
points  to  a  range  of  hills,  very  dark  and  gloomy  now, 
for  they  are  covered  with  woods,  and  the  shadow  of  a 
cloud  lies  upon  them. 

"It  is  there,  beyond  the  mountains,  I  am  going;" 
and  the  shadow  of  the  cloud  has  fallen  upon  her  face. 
All  the  sunshine  has  faded  out  of  it.  Then,  with 
something  warmer,  brighter  than  any  sunshine  gleam- 
ing in  her  eyes,  she  adds,  "  But  the  good  God  takes 
care  of  us  wherever  we  go." 

We  have  reached  a  fork  in  the  road.  There  is  no 
village,  no  house  even,  in  sight.  Why,  then,  do  we 
pause?    The  ladder  is  raised. 

"  It  must  be  for  me ! "  gasps  the  little  old  woman, 
casting  one  bewildered  glance  over  to  where  the  shad- 
ows are  creeping,  and  then  calmly  gathering  together 
her  possessions.     We  grasp  the  hands  she  extends,  we 


200  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABO  AD. 

pour  out  confused,  unintelligible  blessings.  Is  it  the 
dust  which  blinds  our  eyes  ?  Even  the  clownish  peasant 
stumbles  down  the  ladder,  and  lifts  out  her  box.  The 
driver  remounts.  The  whip  cracks.  We  lean  far  out. 
We  wave  our  hands.  Again  the  dust  fills  our  eyes 
so  that  our  sight  for  a  moment  is  dim,  as  we  dash  away, 
leaving  her  sitting  there  alone  upon  her  box,  where  the 
two  roads  meet.  But  beyond  the  hills  where  the 
shadows  rested,  we  know  that  the  sun  still  shines  for 
our  little  old  woman  whose  master  "  became  dead." 


LAST  DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  201 


I 


CHAPTER  Xy. 

LAST  DAYS   INT    SWITZERLAND. 

Geneva.  —  Calvin  and  jewelry.  —  Up  Lake  Leman.  —  Ouchy  and 
Lausanne.  —  "  Sweet  Clarens."  —  Chillon.  —  Freyburg.  — 
Sight-seers.  —  The  Last  Judgment.  —  Berne  and  its  bears.  — 

—  The  town  like  a  story.  —  The  Lake  of  Thun.  —  Interlaken. 

—  Over  the  Wengern  Alp.  —  The  Falls  of  Giessbach.  —The 
Brunig  Pass.  —  Lucerne  again. 

WE  dashed  up  to  the  hotel  upon  one  of  the  fine 
quays  at  Geneva,  and  descended  from  the 
open  diligence  with  all  the  appearance  of  travellers 
who  had  crossed  a  sandy  desert.  There  is  an  air  of 
experienced  travel  which  only  dust  can  impart. 

The  most  charming  sight  in  the  city,  to  us,  was  our 
own  names  upon  the  waiting  letters  here.  In  truth, 
there  are  no  sights  in  Geneva.  Tourists  visit  the  city 
because  they  have  been  or  are  going  elsewhere,  be- 
yond. If  they  pause,  it  is  to  rest  or  buy  the  jewehy 
so  far-famed.  To  be  sure  the  view  from  almost  any 
window  opening  upon  the  blue  Rhone  is  pleasing, 
crossed  by  various  bridges  as  it  is,  one  of  which 
touches  Rousseau's  Island.  But  our  heads  by  this 
time  were  as  full  of  views  as  that  of  a  Boston  woman. 

Calvinists  and  Arminians  alike  visit  the  Cathedral, 
and  sit  for  a  moment  in  the  old  reformer's  chair,  or  at 


"202  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

least  look  upon  the  canopy  of  carved  wood  from  be- 
neath which  he  used  to  preach.  There  are  few  mon- 
uments here.  The  interior  is  bare,  and  boarded  into 
the  stiff  pews,  which  belong  by  right  and  the  fitness 
of  things,  not  to  these  grand,  Gothic  cathedrals,  but  to 
the  Puritan  meeting-houses,  where  we  gather  less  to 
breathe  a  prayer  than  to  sit  solemnly  apart  and  listen 
to  a  denunciation  of  each  other's  sins. 

It  is  a  little  remarkable  that  the  city  where  Calvin 
made  and  enforced  such  rigid  laws  against  luxury  and 
the  vanities  of  the  world  should,  in  these  latter  days, 
be  noted  for  the  manufacture  of  jewelry.  But  so  it  is  ; 
and  to  walk  the  streets  and  gaze  in  at  the  shop  win- 
dows would  turn  the  head  of  any  but  the  strongest- 
minded  woman.  Two  or  three  addresses  had  been 
given  us  of  manufactories  where  we  could  be  served 
at  more  reasonable  rates  than  at  the  grand  shops.  We 
climbed  flight  after  flight  of  dingy  stone  stairs,  in 
dingier  buildings,  to  reach  them,  and  found  ourselves 
at  last  in  littfe  dark  rooms,  almost  filled  by  a  counter, 
a  desk,  and  a  safe  or  two.  Certainly  no  one  would 
think  of  looking  for  beautiful  things  here!  But  we 
had  become  tolerably  accustomed  to  such  places  in 
Paris,  and  were  not  at  all  surprised  when  one  shallow 
drawer  afler  another  was  produced  from  behind  the 
counter,  and  a  blaze  of  gems  and  bewildering  show  of 
delicately  executed  gold  work  met  our  eyes.  If  you 
care  for  a  souvenir  only,  there  are  pretty  little  finger- 
rings  encircled  by  blue  forget-me-nots  in  enamel,  which 
are  a  specialty  of  Geneva.  But  if  you  possess  the 
means  and  disposition,  you  may  gratify  the  most  ex- 
travagant desires,  and  rival  Solomon  in  magnificence. 


LAST  DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  203 

Twice  a  day  steamers  leave  Geneva  to  ascend  the 
lake.  It  was  a  bright,  summer  afternoon  when  we  em- 
barked from  the  pier  beyond  our  hotel,  and  steamed 
away  past  the  villages  that  lie  along  its  edge.  Among 
them  is  Coppet,  the  home  of  Madame  de  Stael,  the 
towers  of  which  rise  up  behind  the  town.  The  deck 
of  the  steamer  was  alive  with  tourists.  One  party, 
from  meeting  at  every  turn,  rests  even  yet  in  memory ; 
the  ladies  stout,  red-faced,  and  showily  dressed,  with 
immense  "  charms  "  pendent  from  their  chatelaines  — 
shovels,  tongs,  and  pokers,  life-size  —  the  result  of  a 
sojourn  at  Geneva,  doubtless. 

For  some  time  after  leaving  the  city,  we  could  look 
back  upon  Mont  Blanc,  white  and  beautiful,  rising 
above  the  dark  mountains,  and  lying  close  against  the 
sky  blue  as  the  waters  of  the  lake.  The  likeness  of  a 
recumbent  figure  of  Napoleon  —  the  head  and  shoul- 
ders alone,  — :  in  the  garb  of  a  grenadier  was  startling, 
haunting  us  even  after  it  had  changed  again  to  a  snow- 
white  mountain.  As  though  the  hero  slept,  like  those 
in  German  legends,  until  his  country  called  him  to 
awake  and  lead  its  hosts  to  battle. 

At  Ouchy  we  leave  the  steamer,  where  the  gardens 
of  the  grand  hotel  Beaurivage  come  down  to  meet  us. 
How  delightful  are  these  Swiss  hotels  !  with  their  pleas- 
ant gardens,  many  balconies,  wide  windows,  and  the 
flying  flags  outside;  and  within,  scrupulous  neatness, 
and  even  elegant  appointments.  The  rooms  vary  in 
size  rather  than  in  degree  of  comfort,  there  being  none 
of  the  sudden  leaps  or  plunges  between  luxury  and 
utter  discomfort,  found  in  so  many  hotels — elsewhere. 
The  floors  are  bare,  the  strips  of  wood  forming  squares 


204  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

or  diamonds,  waxed,  and  highly  polished.  A  rug  here 
and  there  invites  bare  feet.  A  couple  of  neatly-spread 
beds  stand  foot  to  foot  upon  one  side  of  the  room, 
sometimes  with  silk  or  lace  coverlets,  but  with  always 
the  duvet,  or  large  down  pillow,  at  the  foot.  There  is 
no  stint  of  toilet  arrangements.  A  lounge  and  easy- 
chairs  tempt  to  idleness  and  repose  ;  and  a  round  table, 
of  generous  proportions,  .awaits  the  chocolate,  rolls, 
fresh  butter,  and  amber  honey,  when  the  last  curl  is  in 
order,  the  last  ribbon  knotted,  and  you  have  rung  for 
your  breakfast.  Of  course  the  rooms  vary  in  degree 
of  ornamentation.  The  walls  are  often  beautifully 
tinted  or  frescoed,  and  the  furniture  elegant ;  but  the 
neatness  and  comfort  among  these  summer  hotels  are 
almost  universal.  Sometimes,  in  one  corner,  or  built 
into  the  wall,  stands  the  high,  white  porcelain  stove, 
so  like  a  stray  monument  that  has  forgotten  its  inscrip- 
tion, and  is  sacred  to  many  memories  ;  and  the  long, 
plate-glass  windows,  swinging  back,  open  often  upon  a 
balcony  and  a  charming  view.  No  wonder  that  half 
the  hotels  in  Switzerland  are  navaQdi  Bellevue. 

An  omnibus  bears  you  from  Ouchy,  which  is  simply 
the  port  of  Lausanne,  back  into  the  city,  past  pretty 
country  residences,  walled  in,  over  the  gates  of  which 
the  owners  have  placed  suggestive  names  :  "  My  Rest ; " 
"Heart's  Desire;"  "Good  Luck;"  "Beautiful  Situa- 
tion ; "  anything  which  fancy  or  individual  taste  may  dic- 
tate. Of  Lausanne  I  recall  little  but  an  endless  mount- 
ing and  descending  of  stairs.  The  city  is  built  upon  a  hill, 
intersected  by  ravines,  which  accounts  for  this  peculiar 
method  of  gaining  many  streets  from  others  above  and 
below.    We  made  but  a  hurried  visit.     It  was  market 


f 


LAST  DAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND.         205 

day,  and  ugly  women,  old  and  young,  were  sitting 
upon  the  sidewalks  in  the  narrow  streets,  knitting, 
with  the  yarn  held  over  the  fore-finger  of  the  left  hand, 
and  selling  fruits  and  vegetables  between  times.  In 
the  honey  market  the  air  fairly  buzzed  and  swarmed ; 
yet  still  these  women  knit,  and  gossiped,  and  bargained 
complacently,  unmindful  of  the  bees  in  their  bonnets. 
From  Ouchy  we  made  an  excursion  to  the  head  of  the 
lake.  It  is  a  short  voyage  of  two  hours  to  Yilleneuve, 
the  last  town.  Clouds  hid  the  distant  mountains ;  but 
those  lesser  and  nearer,  upon  our  right,  as  we  went  on, 
were  bare,  and  broken,  and  rocky,  contrasting  strange- 
ly with  the  gently  swelling  slopes  upon  the  other  side, 
covered  with  vineyards,  and  with  quiet  little  villages  at 
their  feet.  Each  of  these  villages  has  its  romantic  as- 
sociation ;  or,  failing  in  that,  a  grand  hotel  to  attract 
summer  visitors.  Vevay  boasts  the  largest  hotel,  but 
nothing  more.  Just  beyond  Vevay  is  "  Clarens,  sweet 
Clarens,"  the  willows  of  which  dip  into  the  lake. 
Here,  if  Rousseau  and  Byron  are  to  be  believed,  Love 
was  born ;  possibly  in  some  one  of  the  mean  little 
houses  which  border  the  narrow  streets. 

Soon  after  leaving  Clarens,  the  gray,  stained  tower 
of  Chillon  rises  from  the  water,  near  enough  to  the 
shore  to  be  reached  by  a  bridge.  With  the  "little 
isle  "  and  its  three  tall  trees  marked  by  the  prisoner 
as  he  paced  his  lonely  cell,  ends  the  romance  of  the 
lake.  Poets  have  sung  its  beauties,  but  Lucerne  had 
stolen  away  our  hearts,  and  we  gazed  upon  the  rocks, 
and  vineyards,  and  villages,  with  cold,  critical  eyes. 
It  was  only  later,  when  the  summer  twilight  fell  as  we 
lingered   upon   the   balcony    before   our   windows  at 


206  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

Ouchy  that  we  acknowledged  its  charm.  The  witch- 
ing sound  of  music  came  up  from  the  garden  below. 
UiDon  the  silver  lake  before  us,  the  lateen  sails,  like  the 
white  wings  of  great  sea-birds,  gleamed  out  from  the 
darkness ;  the  tiny  wavelets  rippled  and  plashed  softly 
against  the  breakwatei-;  and  where  the  clouds  had 
parted  overhead,  a  horned  moon  hung  low  in  the  sky, 
while  the  mountains  resolved  themselves  into  shadows 
or  other  waiting  clouds. 

There  was  a  little  church  between  Ouchy  and  Lau- 
sanne, gained  by  crossing  the  fields,  where  we  remem- 
bered the  Sabbath  day,  and  joined  in  the  church  ser- 
vice led  by  an  English  clergyman.  These  Sabbaths 
are  like  green  spots  now  in  memory,  —  restful,  cool, 
refreshing,  and  pleasant  to  recall,  —  when  the  world, 
and  all  haste  and  perplexity  of  strange  sights,  and 
sounds,  and  ways,  were  rolled  off  like  a  heavy  burden, 
while  we  gathered,  a  little  company  of  strangers  in  a 
strange  land,  yet  of  one  family,  to  unite  in  the  familiar 
prayers,  and  hymns,  and  grand  old  chants. 

Monday  morning  the  "  American  cars  "  bore  us  away 
from  Lausanne  to  Freyburg.  But  such  a  caricature 
are  they  upon  our  railway  carriages,  that  we  were  in- 
clined to  resent  the  appellation.  Low,  bare,  box-like, 
with  only  three  or  four  seats  upon  each  side,  they 
hardly  suggested  the  original. 

We  had  chosen  the  route  through  Freyburg  that  we 
might  visit  the  suspension  bridge,  and  hear  the  cel- 
ebrated organ.  The  city  clings  to  the  sides  of  a  ravine 
after  the  perverse  manner  of  cities,  instead  of  spread- 
ing itself  out  comfortably  upon  level  land.  So  steep 
is  the  de'clivity  that  the  roofs  of  some  of  the  houses 


LAST  DAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND,  207 

form  the  pavement  for  the  street  above.  At  the  foot 
of  the  ravine  flows  a  river  crossed  by  bridges,  and  the 
towns-people  have  for  centuries  descended  from  the 
summit  on  one  side  to  climb  to  that  upon  the  other, 
until  some  humane  individual  planned  and  perfected 
this  suspension  bridge,  —  the  longest  in  the  world  save 
one,  —  which  is  thrown  across  the  chasm.  In  order  to 
test  its  strength,  when  completed,  the  inhabitants  of 
the  city,  or  a  portion  of  them,  gathered  in  a  mass,  with 
artillery  and  horses,  and  stood  upon  it !  Then  they 
inarched  over  it,  preceded  by  a  band  of  music,  with  all 
the  dignitaries  of  the  town  at  the  head  of  the  column. 
Since  it  did  not  bend  or  break  beneath  their  weight,  it 
is  deemed  entirely  safe. 

Through  the  most  closely-built  portion  of  the  city 
runs  the  old  city  wall,  with  its  high,  cone-capped  watch- 
towers,  and  the  narrow,  crooked,  and  often  steep 
streets  are  very  quaint.  The  sense  of  satisfaction 
which  returns  with  the  memory  of  these  streets  is 
perhaps  partly  due  to  the  fact,  that  the  girls  of  the 
l^arty  surveyed  them  from  above  great  squares  of  gin- 
gerbread bought  at  a  patisserie  near  the  station,  and 
ate  as  they  strolled  through  the  town  over  the  pavings 
of  these  crooked  ways.  The  bread  of  dependence  is 
said  to  be  exceedingly  bitter ;  but  the  gingerbread  of 
Freyburg  is  uncommonly  sweet,  in  memory. 

When  the  suspension  bridge  has  been  crossed  and 
commented  upon,  every  one  strikes  a  bee-line  to  the 
Cathedral,  which  rises  conspicuously  above  its  sur- 
roundings. It  would  be  very  amusing  to  watch  the 
professional  sight-seers  at  all  these  places,  if  one  did 
not  belong  to  the  fraternity,  which  makes  of  it  quite 


208  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

another  affair.  There  is  no  air  of  pleasuring  about 
them ;  no  placid  expression  of  content  and  sweet-to-do- 
nothing.  They  seldom  are  found  meandering  along 
the  tortuous  streets,  the  milk  of  human  kindness  moist- 
ening every  feature,  beams  of  satisfaction  irradiating 
every  countenance.  They  never  spend  long  hours 
wandering  among  the  cloisters  of  old  cathedrals,  or 
dream  away  days  by  storied  shrines,  as  friends  at  home, 
who  read  of  these  places,'  fondly  imagine.  By  no 
means.  The  sight-seer  is  a  man  of  business.  He  has 
undertaken  a  certain  amount  of  work,  to  be  done  in  a 
given  time.  Ho  will  do  or  die.  And  since  it  is  a  seri- 
ous matter,  involving  doubt,  he  wears  an  appropriately 
solemn  and  preoccupied  expression  of  countenance. 
He  darts  from  point  to  point.  He  climbs  stairs  as 
though  impatient  Fame  waited  for  him  at  the  top.  His 
emotions  of  wonder,  admiration,  or  delight,  must  be- 
stir themselves.  He  drives  to  the  first  point  of  inter- 
est, strikes  a  bee-line  to  the  second,  cuts  every  corner 
between  that  and  the  third,  and  then,  consulting  his 
watch,  desires  to  know  if  there  is  anything  more,  and 
experiences  his  only  moment  of  satisfaction  when  the 
reply  is  in  the  negative.  And  the  most  remarkable 
part  of  all  is,  that  he  goes  abroad  to  enjoy  himself. 

But  even  if  one  is  less  ambitious,  if  you  are  so  for- 
tunate as  to  be  naturally -indolent,  and  to  delight  to 
dwell  in  the  shadow  of  dreams,  you  will  shake  off  dull 
sloth  here.  You  live  and  move  in  a  bustling  crowd. 
Every  storied  spot  is  thronged  with  visitors.  Far  from 
musing  by  yourself,  you  can  at  best  but  follow  in  the 
wake  of  the  crowd,  with  the  drone  of  an  endless  story 
from  the  lips  of  a  stupid  guide  in  your  ears,  bringing 
only  confusion  and  weariness. 


( 


LAST  DAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  209 

A  notice  upon  the  door  of  the  Cathedral  informed 
us  that  the  organ  would  not  be  played  until  evening. 
We  held  a  council  of  war,  and  decided  to  go  on.  Just 
over  our  heads,  as  we  stood  before  the  entrance,  was  a 
representation  of  the  Last  Judgment,  cut  in  the  stone, 
in  which  the  good,  very  scantily  attired,  and  of  most 
self-satisfied  countenances,  trotted  off  after  St.  Peter, 
who  carried  the  father  of  all  keys,  to  the  door  of  a 
castle  representing  heaven,  while  the  poor  wicked  were 
borne  away  in  a  Swiss  basket,  strapped  upon  the  back 
of  a  pig-headed  devil,  to  a  great  pot  over  a  blazing  fire, 
which  a  little  imp  was  vigorously  blowing  up  with  a 
pair  of  bellows.  The  wicked  seeming  to  outnumber 
the  good  (this  was  designed  many  centuries  ago),  and 
the  pot  not  being  large  enough  to  hold  them  all,  the 
surplus  were  thrust  into  the  jaws  of  a  patient  croc- 
odile near  by.  Seated  in  an  arm-chair,  above  all  this, 
the  devil  looked  down  with  an  expression  of  entire 
satisfaction. 

The  interior  of  th6  Cathedral  was  in  no  way  remark- 
able. In  the  choir  (which  you  know,  perhaps,  is  not  a 
place  where  girls  stand  in  their  best  bonnets  to  sing 
on  Sundays,  but  the  comer  of  these  great  cathedrals 
in  which  the  church  service  is  held)  were  some  fine 
stained  glass  windows ;  but  even  here,  horrible  mon- 
keys and  hideous  animal  figures,  life-size,  were  cut  from 
the  wood,  and  made  to  stand  or  crouch  above  the  stalls 
where  the  priests  sit.  Those  old  ecclesiastic  artists 
must  have  believed  in  a  personal  devil,  who  assumed 
many  forms. 

A  threatened  shower  hastened  our  steps  to  the  sta- 
tion some  time  before  the  arrival  of  the  train,  which 
14 


210  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

seemed  to  come  and  go  without  regard  to  the  hour  ap- 
pointed. While  waiting,  we  read  the  advertisements 
framed  and  hanging  upon  the  walls,  of  hotels,  shops,  &c. 
One  of  the  latter,  in  a  triumph  of  English,  ran,  — 

Wood  Carwings; 
Choose  as  nowhere  else. 

We  reached  Berne  before  night,  and  drove  to  the  Ho- 
tel   .     If  it  could  by  some  happy  chance  have  been 

turned  inside  out,  how  comfortable  we  might  have  been ! 
•The  exterior  was  most  inviting.  A  German  waiter  of 
Irish  face,  who  had  a  polyglot  manner  of  speech,  diffi- 
cult to  be  understood,  showed  us  to  our  rooms ;  and  the 
table  d^hote^  to  which  we  descended  an  hour  later,  was 
made  up  of  an  uncommon  array  of  prim-visaged  indi- 
viduals. Dickens's  Mr.  Chadband,  in  a  very  stifi^ 
white  neckcloth,  was  my  vis-a-vis.  I  looked  every  mo- 
ment for  his  lips  to  open,  and  — "  Wherefore  air  we 
gathered  here,  my  friends  ?  "  to  issue  forth. 

The  guide-book  had  informed  *  us  that  the  greatest 
attraction  of  Beme  to  strangers  was  the  fine  view  of 
the  Beniese  Alps  to  be  gained  from  here ;  but  a  cur- 
tain of  cloud  hung  before  them  during  all  our  stay. 
Still  we  were  interested  in  the  queer  old  city,  with  the 
second  story  of  the  houses,  through  many  of  the 
streets,  projecting  over  the  sidewalk,  forming  gloomy 
arcades,  and  bright  red  cushions  in  the  window  seats, 
where  pretty  girls  sat  and  sewed,  and  watched  the 
passers  down  below.  I  remember  it  rained,  and  there 
was  a  market  held  out  in  the  square  before  the  hotel 
windows  in  the  early  morning,  where  the  umbrellas 
made  every  old  woman  to  dwell  in  her  own  tent  for 


LAST  DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  211 

the  time.  When  it  was  over,  and  the  rain  had  ceased 
to  fall,  we  waited  in  front  of  the  old  clock-tower  before 
driving  out  through  ihe  pleasant  suburbs,  with  mar- 
ket women,  baskets  on  their  arms,  stray  children,  idle 
loungers,  and  alert  tourists,  for  the  feeble  puppet-show 
heralded  by  the  asthmatic  crow  of  a  rheumatic  cock. 
Of  course  it  was  a  procession  of  bears.  Everything 
in  Berne  is,  or  has  to  do  with,  a  bear,  since  the  city 
was  founded  upon  the  spot  where  somebody  killed  a 
bear.  Bears  surmount  most  of  the  stone  fountains  in 
the  streets ;  they  ornament  the  monuments  erected  to 
heroes.  Cut  from  wood,  they  are  offered  for  sale 
as  souvenirs;  stuffed,  they  are  exhibited  at  the 
zoological  gardens ;  and,  to  crown  all,  government  sup- 
ports in  luxury  a  whole  family  of  bruins.  We  left  the 
caniage  upon  the  Nydeck  bridge,  to  look  down  into 
the  immense  circular  basin  where  they  are  kept.  It 
must  be  a  dull  life,  even  for  a  bear.  They  are  ugly 
creatures,  with  reddish  fur,  and  spend  their  time  climb- 
ing a  leafless  semblance  of  a  tree,  with  no  object  but 
to  descend  again,  or  in  sitting  up  to  beg  for  biscuits  of 
visitors.  So  universal  has  the  custom  of  begging  be- 
come in  Switzerland,  that  even  the  bears  take  to  it 
quite  naturally. 

The  mountains  obstinately  refusing  to  appear,  we 
left  Berne  for  Thun,  passing  through  a  lovely  country. 
Only  occasionally  did  a  road  appear;  then  it  would 
seem  to  extend  for  long  miles,  bordered  by  immense, 
close-planted  trees.  Neither  fences  nor  hedges  were 
there  to  divide  the  fields ;  but  patches  of  grain  were 
thrown  down  anywhere  and  at  any  angle.  Potatoes 
were  sown  like  grass  instead  of  being  planted  in  hills, 


212  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

and  were  devoured  this  year  by  rot  —  the  worst  feature 
in  the  landscape.  All  through  the  early  summer  we 
had  seen  hemp  growing  everywhere.  Now  it  was  cut, 
and  lying  outspread  upon  the  gi-ound  in  odd  regularity, 
an  occasional  head  only  being  left  to  run  to  seed. 

There  was  nothing  to  visit  in  Thun.  But  the  whole 
town  is  like  a  story.  Not  an  elegant,  high-toned  story, 
to  be  sure,  though  a  picturesque  old  castle  and  church 
lifted  themselves  aristocratically  above  the  more  hum- 
ble town.  The  streets  are  narrow,  and  as  picturesque 
as  they  are  dirty,  with  a  sidewalk  sometimes  above  the 
first,  low,  projecting  story  of  the  houses. 

It  is  a  mile  from  the  town  to  the  lake  of  the  same 
name.  Close  by  the  steamer  landing,  where  we  were 
to  embark  for  Newhaus,  is  the  hotel  Bellevue.  With- 
in the  garden  enclosure  were  several  little  chalets ;  one 
to  serve  as  reading-room,  another  as  salle  a  manger^ 
while  a  third,  beyond  the  pond,  where  swan  were  sail- 
ing, displayed  Swiss  wares  for  sale.  Here  we  lunched 
and  rested  for  an  hour,  before  going  up  the  lake.  It  is 
a  voyage  of  an  hour  and  a  half  to  its  head,j)ast  beauti- 
full  villas  upon  one  side,  and  precipitous  rocks  upon  the 
other.  Once  landed  at  Newhaus, — where  there  was 
not  a  new  house  that  we  could  see,  but  only  a  scanty 
collection  of  little  huts,  —  we  searched  about,  with  the 
mud  ankle  deep,  among  the  crowd  of  waiting  vehicles, 
for  the  omnibus  which  was  to  bear  us  the  two  miles 
and  a  half  to  Interlaken  and  the  hotel  Jung  Frau.  If 
you  recall  your  geography  lessons,  you  will  perhaps 
know  that  the  two  lakes,  Thun  and  Brienz,  are  sepa- 
rated by  a  strip  of  land,  upon  which  is  this  villnge  of 
Interlaken.     It   is  hardly  more  than  one  long  street, 


LAST  DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  213 

with  green  fields  and  a  row  of  trees  upon  one  side,  and 
a  line  of  houses  standing  back  upon  the  other.  In  full 
view  from  the  windows  of  these  summer  hotels,  when 
the  sky  is  clear,  lises  the  Jung  Frau,  between  two  great 
mountain  peaks.  This  is  the  only  sight  in  Interlaken, 
and  yet  the  town  throngs  with  visitors.  It  must  be 
intolerably  hot  here  at  times,  lying  low  among  the 
mountains  as  does  this  valley.  In  the  fields,  behind  the 
grand  hotels,  is  a  long,  low  Kursaal,  a  rustic  affair,  with 
a  wide  piazza.  You  may  lunch,  and  read  the  news- 
papers ;  but  government  has  prohibited  the  gambling. 
There  are  delightful  excursions  to  be  made  from  here, 
which  accounts,  perhaps,  for  the  crowded  hotels.  And 
there  are  several  fine  shops,  where  you  may  buy  all  or 
any  of  the  curiosities  for  which  the  countiy  is  well 
known. 

A  rainy  day  crowded  these  shops  and  the  hotel  par- 
lors, and  made  a  busy  scene  the  length  of  the  street, 
which  is  very  like  a  country  road.  But  the  second 
morning  after  our  arrival,  we  rose  early,  to  prepare  for 
an  excursion  over  the  Wengern  Alp.  The  Jung  Frau, 
hidden  the  day  before,  appeared  in  full  view  with  the 
rolling  away  of  the  clouds,  and  we  desired  to  ap- 
proach nearer  to  the  shy  maiden.  All  the  listlessness 
of  the  day  before  was  past.  As  we  stepped  out  of  the 
little  chalet^  in  the  hotel  garden,  where  —  the  hotel  be- 
ing full  —  we  had  slept  in  a  room  only  vacated  for  the 
night,  with  a  pair  of  immense  red  slippers  behind  the 
door,  and  Madame's  gowns  hanging  from  pegs  on  the 
wall,  everybody  was  astir.  More  than  one  party  was 
sipping  their  scalding  coffee  as  we  entered  the  hotel 
breakfast-room,  while,  under  the  great  trees  outside, 
guides  and  saddled  horses  waited  impatiently. 


214  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

When  we  had  tied  on  our  wide-rimmed  hats,  and 
gathered  our  shawls,-  we  found  a  roomy  carriage,  an 
open  landau,  waiting  for  us  at  the  side-door  of  the 
hotel.  We  drove  quickly  out  of  the  town,  followed  by 
and  following  other  carriages,  until  we  formed  a  long 
procession  by  the  time  we  had  reached  the  valley  of 
Lauterbrunnen  and  began  the  ascent.  It  is  a  deep,  dark 
valley,  shut  in  by  innumerable  overhanging  rocks,  from 
which  thread-like  waterfalls  hang  suspended  in  air,  or 
are  lost  in  spray.  Hardly  does  the  sun  seem  to  pene- 
trate its  depth,  and  an  indescribable  gloom,  as  well  as 
chill,  pervades  the  place.  From  a  few  scattered  cot- 
tages women  and  children  emerged  to  follow  the  car- 
riages, begging  mutely  or  offering  fruits,  while  at  one 
point  a  man  awaited  our  approach  to  awake  the  echoes 
with  an  Alpine  horn. 

After  an  hour  we  reach  Lauterbrunnen,  and  leave 
the  carriage  at  the  door  of  an  inn,  where  a  crowd  bar- 
gains and  waits  for  guides  and  horses.  We  swell  the 
number.  When  we  are  served,  we  mount  to  our  places, 
and  file  out  of  the  straggling  village,  turning  before  we 
reach  the  Staubach  Falls  —  a  stream  of  silvery  spray  that 
never  touches  earth,  but  swings  and  waves  in  mid-air. 
The  ascent  grows  more  and  more  steep.  The  recent 
rain  has  added  to  the  icy  streams,  which  filter  con- 
stantly from  snows  above,  and  the  horses  sink  in  the 
mire,  or  slide  and  slip  in  a  way  by  no  means  reassuring. 
Often  the  path  is  mounted  by  steps  of  slippery  logs ; 
when  added  to  this  is  a  precipice  upon  one  side,  we 
hold  our  breath  —  and  pass  in  safety.  We  commend 
each  other  as  we  perform  feats  of  valor  and  intrepidity 
which  would  make  our  fortune  in  the  ring,  we  fancy. 


LAST  DAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  215 

The  guides,  insolent  and  careless,  stroll  on  in  advance, 
leaving  the  most  timid  to  their  own  devices.  Pres- 
ently, as  we  enter  a  perfect  slough  of  despond,  we  see 
a  man  before  us  scraping  the  mire  with  a  hoe  vigor- 
ously, as  we  come  in  sight. 

"You  should  give  this  poor  man  something,"  says 
one  of  the  guides.  "  He  keeps  the  road  in  order."  I 
wish  you  might  have  seen  the  orderly  road ! 

Suddenly  we  gain  a  point  where  the  land  spreads  out 
into  green  knolls  before  us  and  on  either  side  —  a  strip 
of  almost  level  verdure,  with,  on  one  hand,  peak  on 
peak,  rising  till  they  touch  heaven ;  upon  the  other,  the 
Jung  Frau,  draped  in  snow.  It  seems  so  near,  so  very 
near,  —  though  the  land  drops  between  us  and  it  into  a 
deep  ravine,  and  the  snow-clad  peaks  and  needles  arc 
a  mile  away,  —  I  almost  thought  I  might  guide  my  horse 
to  the  verge  of  the  chasm,  and  reaching  out,  gather  the 
snow  in  my  hand.  Across  the  summit,  the  clouds, 
white  as  itself,  drifted  constantly,  hiding  it  completely 
at  times.  It  had  been  a  tiresome  climb  of  two  hours 
and  a  half,  and  we  were  glad  to  rest  an  hour  before  de- 
scending. As  we  turned  the  corner  of  the  Jung  Frau 
inn,  having  dismounted  from  our  horses,  we  were  met 
by  our  ubiquitous,  stout  friends  of  Lake  Leman  memo- 
ry, to  whom,  I  presume,  we  seemed  equally  omnipresent. 
Table  cthote  was  served  here,  one  party  following 
another,  until  the  long  table  was  full.  Occasionally  the 
noise  of  an  avalanche,  like  the  sound  of  distant  thunder, 
aroused  and  startled  us,  and  caused  us  to  vacate  every 
seat.  But  though  the  mountain  appeared  to  be  so  near, 
these  avalanches,  which  swee})  with  tremendous  force, 
can-ying  tons  of  ice  and  snow,  seen  from  this  distance, 


216  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

seemed  like  nothing  more  than  tiny  mountain  streams 
let  loose. 

From  the  inn,  we  mounted  and  went  on  half  a  mile, 
before  reaching  the  summit  and  beginning  the  un- 
comfortable descent.  We  thought  every  bad  place 
must  be  the  worst,  as  the  horses  sHd  down  the  slippery 
stones,  or  descended  the  log  steps  with  a  peculiar  jerky 
motion,  suggesting  imminent  and  unpleasant  possi- 
bilities. But,  afler  fording  torrents  swollen  by  the 
rain,  crossing  narrow,  treacherous  bridges,  sliding  down 
inclined  planes,  and  whole  flights  of  stairs,  the  guides 
informed  us  that  we  should  reach  a  dangerous  place 
presently ! 

When,  finally,  we  came  to  it,  we  were  quite  willing  to 
dismount,  and  make  our  way  down  over  the  rocks  for  a 
mile,  trusting  to  our  own  feet,  and  beset  continually  by 
women  and  children,  who  appeared  most  unexpectedly 
at  every  turn,  to  thrust  little  baskets  of  fruit  or  flowers 
into  our  hands.  The  very  youngest  child  toddled  after 
us  with  a  withered  field-flower,  if  nothing  more.  So 
early  do  they  begin  to  learn  the  trade  of  a  lifetime. 

We  entered  Grindelwald  late  in  the  afternoon.  The 
shadows  of  night,  which  fall  earlier  in  these  valleys 
than  elsewhere,  were  already  gathering.  The  few,  scat- 
tered cottages,  walled  in  by  the  everlasting  hills,  with 
the  snow-covered  Wetterhorn  in  full  view,  and  the 
glacier  behind  it>  wore  a  cheerless  and  gloomy  air  in 
the  quick-coming  twilight.  Train  after  train  of  tour- 
ists, upon  horses  and  mules,  or  dragging  weary  feet, 
descended  from  among  the  mountains,  to  find  carriages 
here  and  hasten  away.  Only  these  arrivals  and  depaiir 
ures  gave  a  momentry  lilie  to  the  spot.     What  must 


LAST  DAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND.  217 

it  be  when  the  summer  sun  and  the  last  visitor  have 
left  it  ? 

We,  too,  sought  out  our  waiting  carriage,  and  rolled 
away  in  the  summer  twilight,  down  the  beautiful  road, 
wide  and  smooth  enough  to  lead  to  more  dreadful 
places  than  the  pleasant  valley  of  Interlaken,  where, 
for  a  day  at  least,  was  our  home. 

The  next  afternoon,  instead  of  spending  the  Sab- 
bath here,  we  decided  to  go  on  to  Giessbach,  on  the 
Lake  of  Brienz,  to  visit  the  celebrated  falls.  We  had 
rested  comfortably  in  the  hope  of  a  quiet  day  in  the 
little  chalet^  where  more  permanent  aiTangements  had 
been  made  for  our  disposal.  But  the  enterprising 
member  of  the  pnrty,  to  whom  we  owed  not  a  little,  in 
a  happy  moment  of  leisure,  gave  herself  to  the  study 
of  the  guide-book,  the  result  of  which  was  —  Giessbach. 
We  gathered  our  personal  effects  together,  under  the 
pressure  of  gi-eat  excitement  and  limited  time,  reached 
the  little  steamer,  fairly  breathless,  and  then  sat  and 
waited  half  an  hour  for  it  to  move.  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, a  tedious  time;  for  there  occurred  an  incident 
which  engaged  our  attention. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  they're  going  to  do  with 
that  calf?"  asked  the  boy  of  the  party,  who,  like  all 
boys,  was  of  an  inquiring  turn  of  mind.  "They've 
got  him  into  the  water,  and  are  poking  him  with 
sticks." 

Upon  this  we  all  became  immensely  interested.  A 
calf  had  fallen  into  the  watev,  between  the  pier  and  the 
steamer ;  but  the  fruitless  efforts  made  by  everybody, 
interested  or  disinterested,  were  to  rescue,  not  drown, 
the  creature,  as  a  bystander  would  have  inferred.     Sud- 


218  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

denly,  as  his  own  struggles  carried  him  away  from  the 
wharf,  and  he  was  about  to  sink,  a  white,  deUcate  hand, 
bound  with  rings,  and*  an  arm  daintily  draped,  were 
thrust  out  from  one  of  the  cabin  windows,  seized  upon 
the  head  disappearing  in  a  final  5o^,  and  held  on  until 
assistance  came,  when  the  poor  animal,  half  dead  with 
fright,  was  drawn  from  the  water. 

At  last  the  steamer  moved  away  from  the  wharf,  and 
in  an  hour  or  less  the  little  pier  at  Giessbach  received 
us.  There  is  a  tiny  valley,  one  hotel,  and  a  series  of 
pretty  cascades  here.  But  all  these  are  reached  by  a 
smooth  road,  winding  back  upon  itself  continually,  and 
so  steep  that  carriages  do  not  ascend  it.  You  must 
walk,  or  rather  climb  it,  for  twenty  minutes,  or  accept 
the  disagreeable  alternative  of  being  carried  up  by  two 
men  in  a  chair,  resting  on  poles.  The  day  was  warm ; 
our  arms  were  weighed  down  with  satchels,  &c. ;  but 
we  pressed  on,  while,  commenting  upon  our  personal  pe- 
culiarities in  dress,  gait,  and  general  air,  as  they  looked 
down  upon  us  from  the  height  we  almost  despaired  of 
gaining,  were  the  complacent,  comfortable  souls,  who 
always  reach  these  desirable  places  the  day  before  any 
one  else,  and,  in  the  freshest  possible  toilets,  sit,  like 
Mordecai,  in  the  gates. 

It  may  have  been  droll  to  them ;  it  was  a  most  seri- 
ous matter  to  us.  It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  each 
one  felt  and  acted  upon  the  realized  necessity  of 
outstripping  his  neighbor,  in  order  to  secure  rooms. 
Finally  the  gentlemen  hastened  on,  our  ambition  failing 
with  our  strength,  and  we  were  happy  in  finding  com- 
fortable quarters  awaiting  us  when  we  had  gained  the 
hotel  at  last. 


LAST  DATS  IN  SWITZERLAND,  219 

It  was  the  most  delightful  little  nook  imaginable 
when  we  were  rested  and  refreshed.  Until  then  it 
possessed  no  charms  in  our  eyes.  It  is  a  little  valley, 
high  above  the  lake,  towards  which  it  opens,  but  shut 
in  on  three  sides  by  precipitous  hills.  Down  the  face 
of  one  the  cascades  fall.  Back  against  another  the 
hotel  is  built,  facing  the  lake ;  its  depenclance,  and  the 
inevitable  shops  for  the  sale  of  Swiss  wood-carving  and 
crystals,  being  ranged  along  the  third  side.  The  whole 
place  is  not  larger  than  a  flower-garden  of  moderate 
size. 

"We  were  served  at  our  meals  by  pretty,  red-cheeked 
girls,  in  charming  Swiss  costumes ;  and  when  we  had 
been  out  after  dark  to  see  the  falls  illuminated  in  dif- 
ferent colors,  while  the  rustic  bridges,  which  span  the 
cascades  at  various  heights,  were  crossed  by  these 
picturesque  figures,  I  felt  as  if  we  were  all  part  of  a 
travelling  show,  for  whom  this  dear  little  level  spot 
was  the  stage,  and  that  a  vast  audience  waited  outside, 
where  the  walls  of  hills  opened  upon  the  lake,  for  the 
curtain  to  fall.  It  was  like  the  Happy  Valley  of  Ras- 
selas,  which  we  left  with  regret  when  the  peaceful 
Sabbath  was  over. 

Across  the  lake,  at  Brienz,  Monday  morning,  a  car- 
riage waited  to  bear  us  on,  over  the  Brunig  Pass,  into 
the  clouds  and  out  again ;  then  down,  down,  past  vil- 
lage, and  lake,  and  towering  hills,  resting  again  at 
Sarnen,  then  on  to  Lucerne,  into  which  we  swept,  with 
tinkling  bells  and  cracking  whip,  to  find  the  city  gay 
with  streaming  flags  and  flowery  arches,  erected  for 
some  singing  fete,  but  which  to  us  were  all  signs  of  a 
happy  welcoming. 


220  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

BACK   TO   PAEIS   ALONE. 

Coming  home.  —  The  breaking  up  of  the  party.  — We  start 
for  Paris  alone.  —  Basle,  and  a  search  for  a  hotel.  — The  twi- 
light ride.  —  The  shopkeeper  whose  wits  had  gone  *' a 
wool-gathering."  —  "  Two  tickets  for  Paris."  —  "What  can  be 
the  matter  now  ?  —  Michel  Angelo's  Moses.  —  Paris  at  mid- 
night. —  The  kind  commissionaire.  —  The  good  French  gen- 
tleman, and  his  fussy  little  wife.  —  A  search  for  Miss  II.'s.  — 
"  Come  up,  come  up."  —  *'  Can  women  travel  through  Eu- 
rope alone  }"  —  A  word  about  a  woman's  outfit. 

TO  dash  through  the  town,  along  the  quay  where 
we  had  walked  so  many  times  beneath  -the  trees 
or  leaning  over  the  low  parapet  fed  the  fishes,  past 
the  two-spired  cathedral,  the  cloisters  of  which  had 
become  so  familiar,  to  mount  the  hill  and  draw  up  be- 
fore the  door  of  the  Bellevue  again,  welcomed  by  the 
innkeeper,  and  greeted  with  outstretched  hands  by 
"  Charles,"  who  had  served  our  chocolate,  while  familiar 
faces  met  us  at  every  window  or  upon  the  stairs,  to  pull 
up  the  shutters,  throw  wide  open  the  windows,  and 
drink  in  the  glorious  beauty  of  the  scene  before  our  eyes 
—  all  this  was  delightful,  but  fleeting,  like  all  earthly 
joys,  and  mixed  with  pain ;  for  here  we  were  to  say 
«  good  by." 

Our  pleasant  party  was  to  break  up.    The  friends 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  221 

in  whose  care  we  had  been  so  long,  were  off  for 
Germany,  and  Mrs.  K.  and  I  must  turn  our  faces 
towards  home.  We  were  to  renew  our  early  and 
brief  experience  in  travelling  alone.  It  had  been  as 
limited  as  our  French,  which  consisted  principally 
of  ^'' Estrce  que  vous  avezP"  followed  by  a  panto- 
mimic display  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  pro- 
fessional, and  "  Quel  est  le  prix  f  "  succeeded  by  the 
blankest  amazement,  since  we  could  seldom,  if  ever, 
understand  a  reply. 

"  Are.  you  afraid  ?  "  queried  our  friends. 

"No ;  O,  no."  The  state  of  our  minds  transcended  fear. 

It  was  a  hot  day  when  we  took  our  last  view  of  the 
lake,  as  we  rode  down  the  hill  from  the  hotel,  past  the 
cathedral,  past  the  shaded  promenade  upon  the  quay, 
to  the  station  ;  but  we  heeded  neither  the  heat  nor  the 
landscape  wlien  we  were  once  in  the  train  and  on  the 
way.  Our  hearts  were  heavy  with  grief  at  j^arting 
from  friends,  our  spirits  weighed  down  by  nameless 
fears.  It  was  a  wicked  world,  we  suddenly  remem- 
bered. Wolves  in  sheep's  clothing  doubtless  awaited 
us  at  every  turn.  Roaring  lions  guarded  every  station. 
We  clutched  our  travelling-bags,  umbrellas,  and  wraps, 
with  a  grasp  only  attained  by  grim  fate  or  lone  women. 
Gradually,  however,  as  the  uneventful  hours  wore 
away,  we  forgot  that  in  eternal  vigilance  lay  our  safety,, 
and  relaxed  our  hold. " 

We  had  left  Lncerne  at  noon;  at  five  o'clock  we 
reached  Basle.  Here  we  were  to  spend  the  night  at 
the  hotel  Les  Trois  Hois.  Every  step  of  the  way  to 
Paris  had  been  made  plain  to  us  by  our  kind  friends. 

"Let  me  see;  the  hotel  is  close  by  the  station?" 


222  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

queried  Mrs.  K.,  when  we  had  left  our  trunks,  as  our 
friends  had  advised,  and  followed  the  crowd  to  the 
sidewalk. 

"Yes,"  I  replied  with  assurance,  "close  by,  they 
said ;  I  am  sure." 

Accordingly  we  turned  away  from  the  long  line  of 
hotel  omnibuses  backed  up  against  the  curb-stone,  to 
the  fine  hotels  on  each  side  of  the  straight  avenue,  ex- 
tending as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  Alas !  among  their 
blazing  names  was  no  "  Trois  JtoisP  We  read  them 
over  and  over  again.  We  even  tried  to  pronounce 
them.     Not  a  king  was  there,  to  say  nothing  of  three. 

In  a  kind  of  bcAvilderment  we  strayed  down  the 
avenue.  Might  not  some  one  of  the  fair  dwellings 
gleaming  out  from  the  shrubbery  prove  the  house  we 
sought?  There  was  a  rattle  and  clatter  behind  us;  a 
passing  omnibus.  Another,  and  still  another  followed. 
Serene  faces  beamed  out  upon  our  perplexity.  A  cloud 
of  dust  enveloped  us  as  the  last  rolled  cheerfully  by, 
upon  the  end  of  which  we  read,  with  staring  eyes, 
"  Les  Trois  Bois:' 

"Ah!"  gasped  Mrs.  K. 

"  Sure  enough,"  I  replied. 

"  Why,  suppose  we  take  it  ?  "  said  she,  slowly. 

"  Suppose  we  do,"  I  assented,  with  equal  deliber- 
ation. But  by  this  time  the  little  red  omnibus  was  a 
speck  in  the  distance. 

"At  least  we  can  follow  it."  And  we  quickened  our 
steps,  when,  with  almost  human  perversity,  it  turned  a 
distant  corner,  and  vanished  from  sight. 

Fixing  our  eyes  steadily  upon  the  point  of  disap- 
pearance, we  hastened  on,  and  on,  and  on !     I  have  a 


BACK    TO  PARIS  ALONE.  223 

faint  recollection  of  green  trees,  of  stately  houses,  of 
an  immense  fountain  swaying  its  white  arms  in  the 
distance — mirage-like,  for  we  never  approached  it; 
of  the  sun  pouring  its  fierce  rays  upon  us  as  we  toiled 
on,  with  our  wraps  and  satchels  tuming  to  lead  in  our 
arms. 

We  reached  the  comer  at  last.  There  was  no  omni- 
bus ;  no  hotel  in  sight  \  only  the  meeting  of  half  a 
dozen  naiTow,  crooked  streets,  crowded  with  cariiages, 
and  alive  with  humanity.  All  settled  purpose  left  us 
then ;  our  wits,  never  very  firmly  attached,  followed. 
We  became  completely  demoralized. 

"  Suppose  you  inquire,"  suggested  Mrs.  K.,  after  a 
period  of  inaction,  during  which  we  were  pushed,  and 
jostled,  and  trampled  under  foot  by  the  crowd. 

If  I  possessed  one  capability  above  another,  it  was 
that  of  asking  questions,  especially  in  a  strange  lan- 
guage. Upon  this  corner  where  we  were  standing, 
rose  an  imposing  building,  in  the  open  doorway  of 
which  stood  a  portly  gentleman,  with  a  countenance 
like  the  setting  sun,  in  glow  and  warmth.  A  heavy 
mane  flowed  over  his  shoulders.  Evidently  this  was 
the  first  of  the  roaring  lions !  Taking  our  lives  in  our 
hands,  we  approached  him. 

"Do  you  speak  English  ?"  I  ventured. 

"  A^m,"  was  his  reply,  with  a  shrug  of  the  leonine 
shoulders. 

I  drew  a  long  breath  and  began  again. 

"  Parlez-vous  Frangais  f  " 

His  reply  to  this  was  as  singular  as  unprecedented. 
He  turned  his  back  and  disappeared  up  the  wide  stairs 
in  the  rear. 


224  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

"  This  may  be  foreign  politeness,"  I  was  beginning, 
doubtfully,  when  he  reappeared,  accompanied  by  an 
intensified  counteipart  of  himself.  The  setting  sun  in 
the  face  of  this  man  gave  promise  of  a  scorching  day. 

"  Parlez-vous  Frangais^  monsieur?  "  I  began  again, 
when  we  had  bowed  and  "  hon-jour  "-ed  for  some  time. 

"  Ou%  oui^  mademoiselle^ 

Here  was  an  unexpected  dilemma.  A  terrible  pause 
ensued.  Then,  with  an  effort  which  in  some  minds 
would  have  produced  a  poem  at  least,  I  attempted  to 
make  known  the  object  of  our  quest.  I  cannot  begin 
to  tell  of  the  facial  contortions  which  accompanied  this 
sentence,  nor  of  the  ineffable  peace  which  followed  its 
conclusion.  It  made  no  manner  of  difference  that  his 
reply  was  a  jargon  of  unintelligible  sounds.  Virtue  is 
its  own  reward.  One  sentence  alone  I  caught,  as  the 
indistinguishable  tones  flew  by.  We  were  to  take  the 
first  street,  and  then  turn  to  the  right. 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  K.,  when  we  had 
mem-d  ourselves  out  of  their  radiant  presences. 

I  explained  the  direction  we  were  to  follow. 

"Hoi-rible  countenance  he  had,"  she  remarked,  as 
we  pursued  our  way. 

"  O,  dreadful,"  I  assented. 

"  Nobody  knows  where  he  may  send  us,"  she  con- 
tinued. 

Sure  enough !  In  our  alarm  we  stopped  short  in  the 
street,  and  stared  at  each  other  with  horrified  counte- 
nances. 

"  I  have  heard  —  "I  began. 

"Yes;  and  so  have  I,"  she  went  on,  shaking  her 
head,  and  expressing  by  that  gestm-e  most  fearful  pos- 
sibilities. 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  225 

A  bright  thought  seized  me.  "  He  told  us  to  turn 
to  the  right;  we  will  turn  to  the  left ! "  And  with 
that  happy,  womanly  instinct,  said  to  transcend  all 
judgment,  we  did.  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  though 
we  went  on  for  a  long  half  hour,  no  "  Trois  Hois  " 
gladdened  our  eyes. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  K.  struck  an  attitude.  "  A  fine  ap- 
pearance we  shall  present,"  said  she ;  "  two  lone  women, 
dusty  and  heated,  our  arms  full  of  baggage,  straggling 
up  to  a  hotel  two  mortal  hours  after  the  arrival  of  the 
train.     We'll  take  a  carriage." 

To  me  this  inglorious  advent  was  so  distant  in  pros- 
pect that  it  held  no  terrors,  nothing  of  mortification 
even.  "  Zes  Trois  Hois  "  had  become  a  myth,  an  idea 
towards  which  we  vainly  struggled. 

**  If  it  were  only  across  the  street,"  she  went  on, 
rising  to  the  occasion  and  wanning  with  the  subject, 
"  we  would  go  in  a  carriage." 

One  approached  at  that  moment.  We  motioned  to 
it  a  la  Mandarin^  with  our  heads,  our  hands  and  arms 
being  full.  The  driver  raised  his  whip  and  pointed 
solemnly  into  the  distance.  We  turned  to  gaze,  see- 
ing nothing  but  the  heavens  in  that  direction.  When 
we  looked  back,  he  was  gone.  We  should  not  like  to 
afiirm  —  we  hardly  dare  suggest  —  we  are  sure  of 
nothing  but  that  he  vanished  from  before  our  eyes. 

A  second  appeared  in  the  distance.  We  began  in 
time.  We  pawed  the  air  wildly  with  our  umbrellas. 
The  very  satchels  and  wi'aps  upon  our  arms  nodded 
and  beckoned.  In  serene  unconsciousness  the  driver 
held  to  his  course. 

"  Well ! "  I  exclaimed,  indignantly. 


226  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

"  I  should  think  so,"  added  Mrs.  K.,  with  emphasis. 

"  Is  there  anything  peculiar,  anything  unusual  in  our 
personal  appearance  ?  "  I  asked,  glancing  down  upon 
our  dusty  appointments.  As  we  concentrated  our 
energies  and  belongings  for  one  final  effort,  a  benignant 
countenance  smiled  out  upon  us  from  above  a  cipher. 
We  were  storming  a  private  carriage ! 

The  third  attempt  was  more  successful.  The  driver 
paused.  We  requested  him,  in  English,  to  take  us  to 
"  The  Three  Kings."  He  only  stared  and  shook  his 
head.  We  tried  him  with  "  Les  Trois  Hoisy  He 
seemed  still  more  mystified. 

"  What  can  be  done  with  people  who  do  not  under- 
stand their  own  language !  "  I  exclaimed  in  despair. 

We  tried  it  again  with  our  purest  Parisian  accent. 
An  inkling  of  our  meaning  pierced  his  dull  understand- 
ing. He  rolled  heavily  down  from  his  seat,  and  opened 
the  door  with  the  usual  "  Ouiy  oidP  We  entered  and 
were  driven  away. 

"  Do  you  think  he  understood  you  ?  "  queried  Mrs.  K. 

«  No-o." 

"  Well,  where  do  you  suppose  he  will  take  us  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  much  care,"  I  responded, 
in  desperation. 

We  settled  back  upon  the  cushions.  The  peace  that 
follows  resignation  possessed  our  souls.  O,  the  luxury 
of  that  jolting,  rattling  ride,  as  we  wound  in  and  out 
among  the  tortuous  streets  !  A  full  half  hour  passed 
before  the  dusky  old  hotel  darkened  above  us,  sur- 
mounted by  "  The  Three  Kings "  arrayed  in  Eastern 
magnificence,  and  wearing  gilded  crowns  upon  their 
heads. 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  227 

Fate  had  been  propitious.  This  was  our  destination, 
without  doubt,  though  we  had  made  a  grand  mistake 
as  to  its  location.  We  descended  at  the  entrance  with 
the  air,  I  trust,  of  being  equal  to  the  occasion.  We 
calmly  surveyed  the  assembled  porters,  who  hastened 
to  seize  our  satchels  aud  wraps.  We  demanded  a  room, 
and  inquired  the  hour  of  table  dliote^  as  though  we 
had  done  the  same  thing  a  thousand  times  before. 
Mrs.  K.  was  right;  there  was  a  moral  support  in  that 
blessed  carriage. 

Table  d'hote  over,  we  strayed  into  a  pretty  salon 
opening  from  the  salle  a  manger.  Both  were  crowded 
—  over  doors  and  windows,  and  within  cabinets  filling 
every  niche  and  corner  —  with  quaint  specimens  of 
pottery  —  pitchers,  vases,  and  jars,  ancient  enough 
in  appearance  to  have  graced  the  domestic  establish- 
ment of  the  original  "  Three  Kings."  The  glass  doors 
thrown  back  enticed  us  upon  a  long,  low  balcony,  al- 
most swept  by  the  rushing  river  below  —  the  beautiful 
Rhine  hastening  on  to  its  hills  and  vineyards.  We 
leaned  over,  smitten  with  sudden  homesickness,  and 
sent  a  message  back  to  Rolandseck  of  happy  memory. 

With  the  faint  shadows  of  coming  twilight  we 
wandered  out  into  the  square  before  the  hotel.  A  line 
of  voitures  extended  down  one  side,  every  one  of 
which  was  quickened  into  life  at  our  approach.  We 
paused,  with  foot  upon  the  step  of  the  first,  for  the 
carte  always  proffered,  upon  which  is  the  number  of 
the  driver  and  the  established  rate  of  fares.  He  only 
touched  his  shiny  hat  and  prepared  to  gather  up  his 
reins. 

"  O,  dear ! "  we  said ;  "  this  will  never  do ;  we  must 


228  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

not  go."  And  we  stepped  down.  The  porters  upon  the 
hotel  steps  began  to  cast  inquiring  glances.  One  or  two 
stray  passers  added  their  mite  of  curiosity,  when  the 
knight-errant,  who  always  breaks  a  lance  for  distressed 
womanhood,  appeared  upon  the  scene.  "We  recognized 
him  at  once,  though  his  armor  was  only  a  suit  of  gray 
tweed,  and  he  wore  a  fashionable  round-topped  hat  for 
a  casque. 

Almost  before  we  knew  it,  we  were  seated  in  the 
carriage,  the  carte  in  our  hands,  and  were  slowly  crawl- 
ing out  of  the  square  —  for  a  subdued  snail-pace  is 
the  highest  point  of  speed  attained  by  these  public 
vehicles. 

The  memory  of  Basle,  is  as  shadowy,  dim,  delightful, 
as  was  that  twilight  ride.  Where  we  were  going,  we 
neither  knew  nor  cared  ;  nor,  later,  where  we  had  been. 
We  wound  in  and  out  the  close  streets  of  the  old  part 
of  the  city,  full  of  a  busy  life  so  far  removed  from  our 
own,  that  it  seemed  a  show,  a  picture;  below  the 
surface  we  could  not  penetrate.  We  rolled  along  wide 
avenues  where  the  houses  on  either  side  were  white  as 
the  dust  under  the  wheels.  Once  in  a  quiet  square, 
we  paused  before  an  old  Hotel  de  Ville,  frescoed  in 
warm,  rich  colors.  Again  upon  the  outskirts  of  the 
city,  before  a  monument;  but  whether  it  had  been 
erected  to  hero  or  saint  I  cannot  now  recall.  And 
somewhere,  when  the  dusk  was  deepening,  we  found 
an  old  church,  gray  as  the  shadows  enveloping  it,  with 
a  horseman,  spear  in  hand,  cut  in  bas  relief  upon  one 
side.  What  dragon  he  made  tilt  against  ia  the  dark- 
ness we  never  knew. 

Even  our  driver  seemed  to  warm  beneath  the  infln^ 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  229 

ences  which  subdued  and  dissipated  our  cares.  He 
nodded  gently  and  complacently  to  acquaintances, 
eliciting  greetings  in  return,  in  which  we,  in  a  measure, 
shared.  He  hummed  a  guttural,  though  cheerful  song, 
which  found  an  echo  in  our  hearts.  He  stood  up  in 
his  place  to  point  the  way  to  misguided  strangers,  in 
whose  perplexities  we  could  so  well  sympathize.  And 
once,  having  laid  down  the  reins,  and  paused  in  our 
slow  advance,  he  held  a  long  and  seemingly  enjoyable 
conversation  with  a  passing  friend.  To  all  this  we 
made  no  manner  of  objection,  rather  we  entered  into 
the  spirit  of  the  hour,  and  were  filled  with  a  com- 
placency which  was  hastily  banished  upon  our  return  to 
the  hotel,  where,  as  we  put  into  the  hand  of  our  benev- 
olent driver  his  due,  and  the  generous  pour  hoire  which 
gave  always  such  a  twinge  to  our  temperance  principles, 
he  demanded  more. 

"  He  claims,"  said  the  porter,  who  was  assisting  our 
descent,  "  that  he  has  been  driving  with  the  carriage 
lamps  lighted.     There  is  an  extra  charge  for  that." 

"  But  he  left  his  seat  to  light  them  this  moment, 
just  before  we  turned  into  the  square,"  we  replied, 
indignantly. 

The  porter  shrugged  his  shoulders.  That  is  the  end 
of  an  argument.  There  is  never  anything  more  to  be 
said.  We  submitted  at  once,  though  our  faith  in 
benevolent  humanity  went  to  the  winds. 

Somewhat  dispirited,  we  climbed  the  stairs  to  our 
room.  "  One  day  more,"  we  said,  "  and  our  troubles 
will  be  at  an  end."  But,  alas  !  one  day  was  as  a  thou- 
sand years ! 

It  was  to  be  an  all-day's  ride  to  Paris,  from  nine 


230  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

o'clock  in  the  morning  until  h.nlf  past  nine  or  ten  at 
night.  So,  while  waiting  for  breakfast,  we  hastened 
out  into  the  town,  in  search  of  a  bookstore,  and  some- 
thing to  while  away  the  dull  hours  before  us. 

A  young  man,  of  pre  tern  aturally  serious  counte- 
nance, was  removing  the  shutters  as  we  entered  a 
musty  little  shop.  We  turned  over  the  Tauchnitz's 
editions  of  English  novels  until  we  had  made  a  choice, 
the  value  of  our  purchases  amounting  to  four  or  five 
francs,  and  gave  him  a  napoleon.  With  profuse 
apologies  he  left  us  to  get  it  changed.  Returning 
presently,  he  threw  the  silver  into  a  drawer,  and  hand- 
ed the  books  to  us,  with  a  "Jiera." 

"Yes,"  we  said;  "but  — "  Arithmetic  had  never 
been  my  strength  ;  still  something  was  clearly  wrong 
here. 

"  The  change,"  said  Mrs.  K.  "  He  has  given  us  no 
change."  Sure  enough ;  but  still  he  continued  to  bow 
and  thank  us,  evidently  expecting  us  to  go. 

We  tried  to  explain ;  eliciting  only  one  of  the 
blank  stares  that  usually  followed  our  attempts  at 
explanation. 

"  The  man  must  be  an  idiot,"  Mrs.  K.  said,  gravely. 

"  He  certainly  has  an  imbecile  expression  of  counte- 
nance," I  assented.  He  stood  still,  bowing  at  intervals, 
while  we  calmly  weighed  and  balanced  his  wits  before 
his  eyes.  We  tried  signs;  having  through  much 
practice  developed  a  system  to  which  the  deaf  and 
dumb  alphabet  is  as  nothing.  We  attempted  to  con- 
vince him  that  a  part  of  the  money  was  ours. 

He  smiled,  and  assured  us,  in  a  similar  way,  that  tho 
books  belonged  to  us,  the  money  to  him. 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  231 

There  was  so  much  justice  in  this,  that  we  should 
doubtless  have  assented,  had  not  his  own  wits  finally 
asserted  themselves.  Blushing  like  a  bashful  boy,  he 
suddenly  exclaimed,  counted  out  the  change,  and 
poured  it  into  our  hands  with  so  many  apologies,  that 
we  were  glad  to  retreat. 

It  was  a  discouraging  beginning  for  the  new  day. 
Still  we  would  not  despair.  We  had  assured  our  anx- 
ious friends  that  we  were  quite  able  to  take  care  of 
ourselves.  We  would  triumphantly  prove  our  own 
words.  Breakfast  over,  and  our  bill  settled  without 
mishap  or  misunderstanding,  we  started  for  the  station 
in  the  hotel  omnibus,  in  company  with  a  stout,  genial 
Frenchman,  who  spoke  a  little  English,  and  his  fussy 
little  wife.  When  we  entered  the  station,  the  line 
formed  before  the  ticket-window  was  already  formida- 
ble. It  lacked  fifteen  minutes  of  the  hour  when  the 
train  would  start,  and  our  baggage  was  —  where  ?  We 
seized  a  commissionaire^  slipped  a  piece  of  money  into 
his  hand  in  a  very  bungling,  shamefaced  way,  and, 
presto !  in  a  moment  our  trunks  appeared  among  the 
other  baggage,  though  we  had  looked  in  vain  for  them 
before.  Then,  with  a  sensation  of  self-consciousness 
approaching  guilt,  I  stepped  to  the  foot  of  the  line 
before  the  ticket- window. 

"Two  tickets  for  Paris,"  I  gasped,  finding  myself, 
after  a  time,  brought  face  to  face  with  the  sharp-eyed 
official.  "What  is  the  price?"  But  before  I  could 
utter  the  words,  the  reply  rattled  through  my  head 
like  a  discharge  of  grape-shot.  Every  finger  resolved 
itself  into  ten,  as  I  essayed  to  open  my  purse  and  count 
out  the  gold  pieces.    What  should  I  do !    I  had  not 


232  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

enough  into  ten  francs ;  it  might  as  well  have  been  ten 
thousand !  Mrs.  K.  was  waiting  at  a  little  distance ; 
but  the  place  once  lost  in  the  line  could  not  be  re- 
gained, and  there  was  our  baggage  yet  to  be  weighed, 
and  the  hands  of  the  clock  frightfully  near  the  hour  of 
departure.  There  was  an  impatient  stamping  of  feet 
behind  me,  as  I  stood  for  a  moment  dizzy,  bewildered, 
with  an  angry  buzz  of  voices  ringing  with  the  din  and 
roar  in  my  ears.  Then  I  rushed  down  the  room  to 
Mrs.  K.,  and  explained  as  hastily  as  possible.  She 
filled  my  purse,  and  I  flew  back  to  find  the  line  pushed 
forward  and  ray  place  gone.  One  glance  at  the  hands 
of  the  clock,  at  the  discouraging  line  of  ticket-seekers 
yet  to  be  served,  —  how  could  I  go  to  the  foot  again  ! 
Then  I  walked  straight  to  the  window  with  the  cour- 
age of  despair.  A  low  growl  ran  down  the  line,  the 
gendarme  on  guard  stepped  forward,  expostulating 
excitedly;  but,  blessings  on  the  man  at  the  head  of 
the  line,  who  pushed  the  others  back,  and  gave  me  a 
place,  and  even  upon  the  grim  ofiicial  behind  the 
window,  who  smiled  encouragement,  and  gave  me 
the  tickets,  while  the  gendarme  stormed.  I  stepped 
out  again,  conscious  only  of  the  wish  —  strong  as  a 
prayer  —  that  we  were  safe  again  in  Lucerne,  or  —  some 
other  place  of  peaceful  rest. 

Wedged  in  among  the  crowd,  we  saw  one  trunk 
after  another  weighed  and  removed,  while  ours  re- 
mained untouched.  I  pulled  the  sleeve  of  a  porter. 
My  hand  held  my  purse.  The  suggestion  was  enough. 
In  a  moment  our  trunks  were  weighed,  and  the  little 
paper  ticket  corresponding  to  our  "  check  "  safe  in  our 
possession.     I  turned,  conscientiously,  to  reward  the 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  233 

porter;  but  we  were  jostled  by  a  score  of  elbows,  each 
encased  in  the  sleeve  of  a  blue  blouse.  Which  was 
the  one  I  sought  ?  I  could  not  tell.  Each  answered 
my  glance  of  puzzled  inquiry  with  one  of  expectation. 
Diving  to  the  depths  of  my  purse,  I  found  it  to  contain 
one  solitary  centime  —  nothing  more.  I  slipped  it  into 
the  hand  nearest,  and  from  the  start  of  surprise  and 
delight  was  immediately  convinced  that  it  was  the 
wrong  man.  However,  it  did  not  matter.  There  was 
no  time  to  explain.  The  doors  opening  upon  the  plat- 
form, which  remain  locked  until  the  last  moment, 
were  thrown  open,  and  we  hunied  away,  found  places 
upon  the  train,  and  sank  back  upon  the  cushions  ex- 
hausted, but  happy.  For  ten  hours  at  least,  nothing 
could  happen  to  us.  The  guard  passed  the  window, 
examining  the  tickets,  and  slamming  the  doors,  making 
our  safety  doubly  sure.  A  moment  more,  and  with  a 
noiseless  motion  we  were  off.  Hardly  had  the  train 
started  before  it  stopped  again.  One  after  another 
our  companions  left  us  —  for  we  were  not  alone  in  the 
compartment.  "  Strange,"  we  said,  yet  too  thoroughly 
exhausted  to  be  curious.  It  was  still  more  strange 
when,  after  a  short  time,  they  each  and  all  returned. 
They  began  to  whisper  among  themselves,  pointing  to 
us.  "What  can  be  the  matter  now?'*'*  we  queried, 
suddenly  mindful  that  life  is  a  warfare,  and  roused  to 
interest. 

Our  fellow-travellers  proceeded  to  enlighten  us  in 
chorus,  and  in  the  confusion  of  the  outburst,  we  caught 
—  by  inspiration  —  at  their  meaning.  We  had  crossed 
the  frontier  into  France,  and  the  baggage  was  ex- 
amined here.     We  hastened  out  and  into  the  station. 


234  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

All  the  trunks  but  our  own  had  been  checked.  With 
his  hand  upon  one  of  these,  an  official  demanded  the 
key,  upon  our  appearance.  Remembering  an  episode  in 
its  packing,  we  demurred,  and  proffered  the  key  of 
another.  Already  vexed  by  the  delay,  his  suspicions 
were  roused  now.  He  demanded  the  key  of  the  first, 
which  we  gave  up  with  wicked  delight.  The  by-s land- 
ers drew  near.  Indeed,  a  crowd  was  the  embarrassing 
accompaniment  to  all  our  unfortunate  experiences. 
The  official  turned  the  key  with  the  air  of  doing  his 
duty  if  he  perished  in  the  attempt,  when  the  lid  flew 
open,  and  a  hoop-skirt,  compressed  to  the  final  degree, 
sprang  up  into  his  startled  face,  like  a  Jack-in-the-box. 
The  spectators  laughed  —  French  though  they  were  — 
as,  very  red  in  the  face,  he  vainly  tried  to  replace  it, 
entirely  forgetting  to  search  for  contraband  articles. 

No  other  incident  disturbed  the  quiet  of  that  long 
day's  ride  to  Paris.  At  some  queer  little  station  we 
descended  to  lunch,  and  returned  to  our  places,  laden, 
like  the  spies  of  Eschol,  with  luscious  grapes.  Our 
fellow-travellers  dropped  out  along  the  way,  only,  how- 
ever, to  be  replaced  by  others.  We  had  not  succeeded 
in  securing  places  in  the  compartment  reserved  for 
ladies  alone ;  but  the  French  gentlemen  who  were  our 
companions  proved  most  courteous  in  their  polite  indif- 
ference to  our  movements.  An  old  gentleman  among 
these,  elicited  our  outspoken  admiration  for  his  grand 
head.  We  were  secure  in  our  native  language,  we 
knew. 

"  Lovely  face  ! "  we  exclaimed,  unblushingly.  "  What 
a  head  for  a  sculptor!  Quite  like  Michel  Angelo's 
Moses,  I  declare." 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  235 

Before  the  day  was  over,  "  Michel  Angelo's  Moses " 
addressed  us  in  excellent  English. 

When  the  darkness  gathered,  when  the  night  settled 
down,  something  of  its  gloom  oppressed  us.  Once 
safely  housed  in  Paris,  we  should  be  at  rest ;  but  there 
were  still  difficulties  to  be  overcome.  Our  friends  had 
telegraphed  to  Miss  H.  that  we  should  arrive  by  this 
train ;  but  the  number  of  her  house  we  did  not  know, 
nor  did  they.  We  were  only  sure  that  her  apartments 
were  over  the  Magasin  au  Printemps.  Still  that 
was  tolerably  exact;  we  would  not  be  uneasy.  At  ten 
o'clock  at  night  we  stepped  down  fi-om  the  train  into 
a  confusion  of  tongues  aiid  elbows  which  I  cannot 
describe,  and  followed  the  crowd  into  the  baggage- 
room.  I  ^ay  followed — we  were  literally  lifted  from 
our  feet  and  borne  along.  There  was  no  baggage  in 
sight.  We  waited  until  an  hour  seemed  to  have 
passed,  and  still  no  trunks  appeared. 

"Suppose  we  leave  them,  and  send  a  porter  from 
the  house  in  the  morning  to  find  them;"  and  acting 
upon  this,  we  struggled  out  of  the  station  into  the 
great  paved  square  at  one  side.  The  night  was  dark ; 
but  the  gas-lights  dimly  lighted  up  aline  of  carriages  at 
the  farther  side,  towards  which  we  hastened,  and  had 
seated  ourselves  in  one,  when  a  cowmissionaire  came 
running  across  the  square,  and  putting  his  head  in  at 
the  carriage  window,  asked  if  we  had  any  baggage. 

"  Yes,"  we  replied ;  but  the  rattling  words  that  fol- 
lowed brought  only  confusion  to  us.  Our  minds,  already 
overtaxed,  gave  way  at  once.  It  is  pleasant  to  recall 
the  patience  and  good-nature  of  that  official.  It  is 
pleasant,  when  old  things  have  so  entirely  passed  away, 


236  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD, 

to  remember  the  Paris  of  1869  as,  at  least,  a  city  into 
which  women  might  come  at  midnight,  alone,  unpro- 
tected, and  be  not  only  free  from  insult  and  imposition, 
but  actually  cared  for,  and  sent  to  their  rightful 
destination,  in  spite  of  their  own  ignorance  and  in- 
competence. 

"  Stay  here,"  said  our  friend  in  uniform;  and  he  dis- 
appeared, to  return  in  a  moment  with  the  stout  French 
gentleman  who  had  been  our  companion  in  the  hotel 
omnibus  at  Basle.  We  met  with  mutual  surprise,  and 
pleasure  on  our  side  at  least. 

"  Do  any  one  look  for  your  baggage?"  he  asked. 

"  No,"  we  replied.    "  We  thought  we  might  leave  it." 

"  You  must  go,"  he  said. 

The  commissionaire  took  possession  of  our  check 
and  the  driver's  carte^  and  I  followed  the  two  back  to 
the  station,  leaving  Mrs.  K.  to  guard  our  satchels,  &c., 
in  the  carriage. 

"  Wait  one  leetle  moment,"  said  the  kind  French 
gentleman;  "I  bring  madame."  And  in  a  moment  he 
dragged  the  fussy  little  woman  from  the  crowd,  hand- 
ing her  over  with  the  triumphant  air  of  having  now 
settled  all  difficulties. 

"  Madame  speak  ze  Eengleesh  fine,"  he  said. 

Looking  down  from  an  immeasurable  height,  the  little 
madam  condescended  to  remark  that  their  servant  was 
looking  for  their  baggage. 

"  Ah !  "  I  responded.  "  Then  we  are  not  permitted 
to  leave  our  trunks." 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  she  replied,  looking  so 
gre:itly  bored,  not  to  say  exhausted,  that  I  did  not 
think  it  best  to  press  the  matter.  "Oar  servant  is 
attending  to  it,"  she  repeated. 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  237 

Her  husband's  face  fairly  glowed  with  satisfaction 
while  this  side  conversation  was  being  carried  on. 
Evidently  he  believed  the  whole  French  baggage  sys- 
tem to  have  been  elucidated  for  my  benefit.  I  thanked 
him  heartily,  as  we  exchanged  cordial  adieus.  Even 
the  fussy  little  woman  gathered,  for  the  moment,  suf- 
ficient life  to  attempt  to  bow ;  which,  alas  !  never  got 
beyond  a  stare.  The  commissionaire  seized  upon  a 
blue-bloused  porter,  and  gave  me  to  him  with  the 
check,  the  carte^  and  a  few  sharply-sjDoken  directions. 
Clinging  to  that  blue  sleeve,  I  was  borne  through  the 
swaying,  surging  mass  of  humanity,  into  the  bag- 
gage-room—  how,  I  never  knew.  Our  trunks  were 
identified,  lifted,  not  thrown,  by  my  porter  upon  a 
hand-truck,  which  dragged  for  itself  and  us  an  opening 
in  the  crowd.  Once  out  upon  the  platform,  the  porter 
pushed  doggedly  on  into  the  darkness,  though  I  had 
left  Mrs.  K.  and  the  carriage  in  the  square  at  one  side. 
I  expostulated.  He  held  persistently  to  his  course.  I 
gave  one  thought  to  poor  Mrs.  K.,  resigned  to  what 
fate  I  knew  not,  and  then,  woman-like,  followed  my 
trunks. 

It  was  all  explained,  when,  dimly  outlined  in  the 
darkness  before  the  station,  we  espied  a  sea  of  shiny 
hats  and  shadowy  cabs;  and  when,  after  long  shouting 
of  the  number  of  our  own,  by  the  porter  and  every-' 
body  else,  it  finally  crawled  up  to  the  steps  where  we 
were  standing,  Mrs.  K.'s  anxious  face  looking  out  of 
the  window. 

"  I  began  to  think  you  were  lost,"  she  said.  "  You 
can  fancy  my  feelings  when  the  driver  gathered  up 
the  reins  and  drove  out  of  that  square." 


288  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

We  made  a  thank-offering  upon  the  palm  of  every 
grimy  hand,  suddenly  outstretched ;  then  the  driver 
paused,  whip  in  the  air,  for  the  address  of  our  des- 
tination. 

^''Magasin  au  Prmtemps^  Boulevard  Haussraan." 
He  stared,  as  everybody  had,  and  did,  along  the  way. 
If  they  only  wouldn't  I  We  repeated  it.  He  con- 
ferred, in  a  low  tone,  with  the  man  on  the  next  box, 
who  got  down  from  his  place,  and  came  around  to  our 
window  to  look  at  us.  One  or  two  lounging  porters 
joined  him.  The  Magasin  au  Printemps  is  a  large 
dry  and  fancy  goods  establishment,  which  had  been 
closed,  of  course,  for  hours,  since  it  was  now  nearly 
midnight.  It  was  as  though  we  had  reached  New 
York  late  at  night,  and  insisted  upon  being  driven  to 
Stewart^s.  The  little  crowd  stared  at  us  solemnly,  in 
a  kind  of  pitiful  curiosity,  I  fancied.  I  think,  by  this 
time,  our  countenances  may  have  expressed  incipient 
idiocy.  We  attempted  to  explain  that  Miss  H.'s 
apartments  were  over  the  Magasin^  and  the  driver 
mounted  to  his  seat,  though,  I  am  obliged  to  confess, 
with  an  ominous  shake  of  his  head. 

As  we  rolled  out  into  the  wide  boulevards  our  spirits 
rose.  The  sidewalks  were  crowded  with  promena- 
ders,  the  streets  with  carriages.  The  light  of  a 
'glorious  day  seemed  to  have  burst  upon  our  dazzled 
eyes.  Paris,  gay,  beautiful  Paris,  which  never  sleeps, 
was  out,  disporting  herself. 

"  We  will  not  be  anxious,"  we  said ;  nor  were  we  in 
the  least.  "  Even  if  we  cannot  find  Miss  H.'s,  some 
hotel  will  take  us  in.  Or,  failing  in  that,  we  can  drive 
about  until  morning." 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  239 

A  thougbt  of  our  respective  and  respectable  families 
did  cross  our  minds  with  this  lawless  suggestion.  In 
happy  unconsciousness,  they  believed  us  still  safe  with 
our  friends. 

We  crawled  up  the  Boulevard  Haussraan.  There 
were  the  closed  doors  and  shutters  of  the  Magasin  au 
Printemps.  Two  or  three  other  doors  met  our  gaze. 
The  driver  paused  before  one.  We  descended,  and 
pulled  the  bell.  You  must  know  there  are  no  door- 
steps, in  Paris,  leading  to  front  doors,  as  with  us.  The 
first  floor  is,  almost  without  exception,  given  up  to 
shops ;  and  dwellings,  unless  pretentious  enough  to 
be  houses  enclosing  a  court-yard  and  entered  from 
the  street  by  passing  through  great  gates,  are  simply 
apartm^ts  in  the  two,  three,  and  four  stories  above 
these  shops. 

Some  invisible  mechanism  swung  back  the  great 
double  doors  as  we  pulled  the  bell,  disclosing  a  pretty, 
paved  court-yard,  with  a  fountain  in  the  centre,  sur- 
rounded by  pots  of  flowers.  A  glass  door  at  one  side, 
revealed  wide  marble  stairs,  down  which  a  charming 
little  portress  was  tripping. 

"Is  this  Miss  H.'s?"  w^e  asked  in  English.  She 
only  shook  her  head.  We  paraded  our  French.  She 
seemed  lost  in  thought  for  a  moment,  then,  with  a 
"  Ou%  oui^''  ran  past  us  to  the  carriage,  and  gave  some 
directions  to  the  driver,  emphasizing  her  words  with  a 
pair  of  plump  little  hands.  Then,  with  a  "So/i  nuit^ 
she  disappeared,  and  the  great  doors  closed  again. 
Evidently  we  were  being  taken  care  of,  we  thought, 
as  we  settled  back  again  in  the  carriage.  We  stopped 
before  another  door,  already  open,  and  disclosing    a 


240  ^N  AMERICAN   GIRL  ABROAD. 

flight  of  wide,  stone  stairs,  ascending  almost  from  the 
sidewalk.  Immediately  upon  pulling  the  bell  —  as 
though  the  wire  had  been  attached  to  it  —  a  long,  loose- 
jointed,  grotesque,  yet  horrible  figure  appeared  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  half-stooping  to  bring  himself  within 
the  range  of  my  vision,  swinging  his  arms  like  a  Dutch 
windmill,  and  grinning  in  a  way  which  seemed  to  open 
his  whole  head. 

"  Is  —  is  this  Miss  H.'s  ?  "  I  ventured  from  the  side- 

» 

walk. 

He  only  beckoned  still  more  wildly  for  me  to  ascend. 
I  drew  back.  Good  Heavens !  What  was  the  matter 
with  him  ?  And  still,  while  I  stared  faschiated,  yet 
horror-stricken,  he  continued,  without  intermission, 
these  speechless  contortions  and  evolutions.  Although 
he  uttered  not  a  sound,  he  seemed  to  say  with  every 
cracking  joint,  "  Come  up,  come  up,"  while  he  scooped 
the  air  with  his  bony  hands. 

I  remembered  that  it  was  midnight ;  that  we  were 
alone,  and  in  wicked  Paris ;  that  we  had  been  reli- 
giously brought  up ;  that  Mrs.  K.'s  husband  was  the 
superintendent  of  a  large  and  flourishing  Sunday 
school ;  that  my  father  was  a  minister  of  the  gospel. 
I  planted  my  feet  firmly  upon  the  sidewalk.  I  folded 
my  arms  rigidly.  I  shook  my  head  virtuously.  Come 
up  ?  Chains  should  not  drag  me.  Then  I  turned  to 
the  carriage. 

"  Mrs.  K.,  do  come  and  see  this  man." 

She  came.  Together  we  stared  at  him  with  rigid 
and  severe  countenances. 

"  Dreadful ! "  said  I,  remembering  the  Sunday 
school. 


Together  we  stared  at  him  with   rigid  and  severe  countenances. 
Page  240. 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  241 

"  Awful ! "  said  she,  recalling  the  pious  ancestors. 
And  again  we  shook  our  heads  at  his  blandishments  to 
the  point  of  dislocation.  The  driver,  who  had  been 
all  this  time  tipped  back  against  a  tree,  began  to  show 
symptoms  of  impatience.     Something  must  be  done. 

"  Suppose  you  ask  for  some  one  who  can  speak  Eng- 
lish," suggested  Mrs.  K. 

"Sure  enough."  And  I  did.  With  one  last,  terri- 
ble grimace  the  ogre's  heels  disappeared  up  the  second 
flight  of  stairs. 

There  came  down  in  a  moment  a  thoroughly  re- 
spectable appearing  porter, 'who  informed  us,  in  English, 
that  we  were  expected,  our  telegram  having  been  re- 
ceived ;  though,  through  the  ambiguity  of  its  address, 
it  had  been  sent  first  to  a  house  below.  The  people 
there  had  promised  to  forward  us,  however,  in  case  we 
followed  the  telegram.  This  accounted  for  the  move- 
ments of  the  little  portress. 

The  ogre  proved  to  be  a  most  good-natured  conci- 
erge^ who  had  been  instructed  to  keep  the  door  open  in 
anticipation  of  our  arrival. 

So  our  fears  had  been  but  feathers,  after  all,  blown 
away  by  a  breath  ;  our  troubles  only  a  dream,  to  be 
laughed  over  in  the  awakening. 

Here  the  story  of  our  journeying  may  end.  The 
remaining  distance,  through  the  kindness  of  friends, 
new  and  old,  was  accomplished  without  difficulty  or 
annoyance.  We  reached  our  own  homes  in  due  time, 
and  like  the  princess  in  the  fairy  tales,  "  lived  happily 
forever  afterwards." 

A  few  practical  words  suggest  themselves  here  which 
would  pass  unnoticed  in  a  preface  —  where,  perhaps, 


242  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   ABROAD. 

they  belong.  First,  in  regard  to  the  question  often 
asked,  "Can  women  travel  alone  through  Europe?" 
Recalling  our  own  experience,  —  too  brief  to  serve  as 
a  criterion,  —  I  should  still  say,  "  Jes."  We  met,  fre- 
quently, parties  of  ladies  who  had  made  the  whole 
grand  tour  alone.  In  Switzerland  we  found  English 
women,  constantly,  without  escort.  The  care  of  choos- 
ing routes,  of  looking  after  baggage  and  buying  tick- 
ets, of  managing  the  sometimes  complicated  affairs 
attendant  upon  sight-seeing,  with  the  vexations  and 
impositions  met  with  and  suffered  on  every  hand,  no 
woman  would  voluntarily  accept  without  great  com- 
pensation, I  am  sure.  But  if  she  prefers-  even  these 
cares  to  seeing  nothing  of  the  world,  they  can  be 
borne,  and  the  annoyances,  to  a  great  extent  overcome, 
through  patience  and  growing  experience. 

Then,  if  you  start  alone,  or  without  being  consigned 
to  friends  upon  the  other  side,  —  which  no  young  wo- 
man would  think  of  doing,  —  you  are  almost  sure  to 
join,  at  different  times,  other  parties,  whose  way  is  your 
own ;  and  far  preferable  this  is  to  making  up  a  large 
company  before  leaving  home  —  the  members  of  which 
usually  disagree  before  reaching  the  continent,  and 
often  part  in  mutual  disgust.  "  There  is  nothing  like 
travelling  to  bring  out  a  person's  real  nature,"  say 
some.  But  this  is  untrue.  Travelling  develops, 
rather  than  reveals,  I  think,  and  under  conditions 
favorable  only  to  the  worse  side  of  one's  nature.  You 
are  bewildered  by  the  multitude  of  strange  sights  and 
ways ;  the  very  foundation  of  usages  is  broken  up ; 
you  are  putting  forth  physical  exertions  that  would 
seem  superhuman  at  home,  and  are  mentally  racked 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  243 

until  utterly  exhausted, — for  there  is  nothiug  so  ex- 
hausting as  continued  sight-seeing,  —  and  at  this  point 
people  say  they  begin  "  to  find  each  other  out." 

An  occasional  period  of  rest — not  staying  withia 
doors  to  study  up  the  guide-books,  but  eutire  cessation 
from  seeing,  hearing,  or  doing  —  and  a  scrap  from  the 
mantle  of  charity,  will  save  many  a  threatened  friend- 
ship at  these  times.  We  learned  to  know  our  strength 
—  how  weak  it  was ;  and  to  await  in  some  delightful 
spot,  chosen  for  the  purpose,  returning  energy,  courage, 
and  interest ;  for  even  that  would  be  banished  at  times 
by  utter  weariness  and  exhaustion. 

In  foi-mer  times,  Americans  fitted  themselves  out  for 
Europe  as  though  bound  to  a  desert  island.  Wider 
intelligence  and  experience  have  opened  their  eyes  and 
reformed  their  judgment ;  still,  a  word  upon  this  sub- 
ject will  not  be  unwelcome,  I  am  sure,  to  girls  espe- 
cially, who  contemplate  a  trip  over  the  ocean. 

In  the  first  place,  your  steamer  outfit  is  a  distinct 
aflTair.  You  are  allowed  to  take  any  baggage  you  wish 
for  into  your  state-room ;  but,  if  wise,  you  will  not  fill 
the  narrow  space,  nor  encumber  yourself  with  any- 
thing larger  than  a  lady's  hat  box^  which  may  offer  a 
tolerable  seat  to  the  stewardess,  or  visitors  of  condo- 
lence, in  case  seasickness  confines  you  to  berth  or  sofa. 
Even  preferable  to  this  is  a  flat,  English  portmanteau, 
which  can  be  slipped  under  the  lower  berth.  If  you 
sail  for  Liverpool,  you  can  leave  this  at  your  hotel  there 
in  charge  of  the  head  waiter  until  you  leturn,  and  thus 
avoid  the  expense  and  care  of  useless  baggage. 

Its  contents  your  own  good  sense  will  in  a  measure 
suggest.     Let  me   add  —  a  double  gown  or  woollen 


244  AN   AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 

wrapper,  in  which  you  may  sleep,  flannels  (even  though 
you  cross  the  ocean  in  summer),  merino  stockings, 
warm  gloves  or  mittens,  as  pretty  a  hood  as  you  please, 
only  be  sure  that  it  covers  the  back  of  your  hea«l, 
since  you  will  ignore  all  cunning  craft  of  hair  dress- 
ing, for  a  few  days  at  least,  and  even  after  you  are 
well  enough  to  appear  at  the  table,  perhaps.  Bear  in 
mind  that  the  Northern  Atlantic  is  a  cold  place,  and 
horribly  open  to  the  wind  at  all  seasons  of  the  year ; 
that  you  will  live  on  the  deck  when  not  in  your  berth 
or  at  your  meals,  and  that  the  deck  of  an  ocean 
steamer  partakes  of  the  nature  of  a  whirlwind.  Fur 
is  by  no  means  out  of  place,  and  skirts  should  be  suffi- 
ciently heavy  to  defy  the  gales,  which  convert  every- 
thing into  a  sail.  Take  as  many  wraps  as  you  choose 
—  and  then  you  will  wish  you  had  one  more.  A  large 
shawl,  or,  better,  a  carriage-robe,  is  indispensable,  as 
you  will  very  likely  lie  rolled  up  like  a  cocoon  mucli 
of  the  time.  A  low  sea-chah-,  or  common  camp-chair, 
is  useful  to  older  people ;  but  almost  any  girl  will  pre- 
fer a  seat  upon  the  deck  itself;  there  are  comfortable 
crannies  into  which  no  chair  can  be  wedged. 

By  all  means  avoid  elaborate  fastenings  to  garments. 
A  multiplicity  of  unmanageable  "  hooks  and  eyes  "  is 
untold  torment  at  sea ;  and  let  these  garments  be  few, 
but  warm.  You  will  appreciate  the  wisdom  of  this 
suggestion,  when  you  have  accomplished  the  hercu- 
lean task  of  making  your  first  state-room  toilet. 

If  you  are  really  going  abroad  for  a  season  of  travel, 
take  almost  nothing.  You  can  never  know  what  you 
will  need  until  the  necessity  arises.  If  you  anticipate, 
you  misjudge.    Your  American  outfit  will  render  you 


BACK  TO  PARIS  ALONE.  245 

an  oddity  in  England.  But  do  not  change  there,  or 
you  will  be  still  more  singular  in  Paris.  It  is  as  well 
to  start  with  but  one  dress  besides  the  one  you  wear 
on  the  steamer  —  anything  you  chance  to  have;  a 
black  alpaca,  or  half-worn  black  silk,  is  very  service- 
able. When  you  reach  Paris,  circumstances  and  the 
season  will  govern  your  purchases  ;  and  this  same 
dress  will  be  almost  a  necessity  for  constant  railway 
journeys,  rainy-day  sight-seeing,  and  mule-riding  in 
Switzerland.  A  little  care  and  brushing,  fresh  linen, 
and  a  pretty  French  tie,  will  make  it  presentable  —  if 
not  more  —  at  any  hotel  dinner  table. 

A  warm  shawl  or  wrap  of  some  kind  you  will  need 
for  evenings,  —  even  though  you  travel  in  summer,  — 
for  visiting  the  cathedrals,  which  are  chill  as  a  tomb  ; 
and  for  weeks  together  among  the  mountains  you  will 
never  throw  it  aside.  But  if  you  can  take  but  one, 
donH  provide  yourself  with  a  water-proof.  They  are 
too  undeniably  ugly,  and  not  sufficiently  warm  for  con- 
stant wear.  If  it  rains  slightly,  the  umbrella,  which 
you  will  buy  ffom  force  of  necessity  and  example  in 
England,  will  protect  you ;  if  in  torrents,  you  will  ride. 
Indeed,  you  will  always  ride,  time  is  so  precious,  cab- 
hire  so  cheap,  and  distances  so  great  in  most  foreign 
cities. 

Lastly,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  provide  yourself  with 
an  abundant  supply  of  patience  and  good-nature. 
Without  these,  no  outfit  is  complete.  Try  to  laugh  at 
annoyances.  Smile,  at  least.  And  do  not  anticipate 
difficulties.  Above  all,  enjoy  yourself,  and  then  every- 
body you  meet  will  enjoy  you.  And  so  good  by,  and 
"  God  bless  us  every  one." 


List  of  Books  Recently  Published 

BY 

LEE  &  SHEFARD, 

149  AATashington  Street,  Boston. 


EUROPEAN  TRAVEL. 


OVER  THE   OCEAN,  OR   SIGHTS   AND   SCENES   IN 

FOREIGN    LANDS.      By  Curtis  Guild,  editor  Boston 
Commercial  Bulletin,     i  vol.     Crown  8vo.     Price,  $2.50. 

This  bright  and  vivacious  book  of  foreign  travel  has  received 
the  most  flattering  encomiums  from  the  press  all  over  the 

country. 
The  New  York  Tribune  says :  — 

"Guild's  choice  of  topics  is  excellent ;  the  interest  of  his  descriptions  never 
flags.     No  virtuous  American  with  the  hope  of  a  Parisian  heaven  before  his 
eyes  should  fail  to  remember  this  volume  while  packing  for  the  voyage." 
The  New  York  A  Ibion  says :  — 

"  This  is  certainly  a  collection  of  some  of  the  most  perfect  pen-pictures  <rf 
Sights  and  Scenes  m  Foreign  Lands  we  have  ever  read." 
Rev.  H.  W,  Bellows  says,  \n  th^  Liberal  Christian :  — 

"It  is  one  of  the  best  books  of  foreign  travel  ever  published  in  this 
country." 
Rev.  Edward  Everett  Hale,  says:  — 

"  I  read  it  wth  constant  interest  —  and  I  read  but  few  books  of  travel" 

AN  AMERIC/^N  WOMAN  IN  EUROPE.  The  journal  of  two 
weeks'  sojourn  in  France,  Switzerland,  Italy,  and  Ger- 
many. By  Mrs.  S.  R.  Urbino,  author  of  *'  The  Princes 
of  Art."     i2mo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 

The  Providence  Press  says :  — 

"  A  pleasant  gossip  with  an  intelligent  person  who  has  just  returned  from 
Europe,  and  all  the  little  details  of  daily  life,  combined  with  the  cost  of  every- 
thing, is  given  with  an  ease  and  grace  which  is  charming." 
The  Phila.  Journal  of  Commerce  says :  — 

"A  remarkably  pleasant  and  chatty  book  of  travel." 
The  Chicago  Commercial  says  :  — 

"A  pleasant  break  in  the  monotony  of  stories  of  European  trips. 
"  She  tells  you  the  best  and  cheapest  way  to  travel,  the  shortest  and  pleas- 
antest  routes,  the  best  sights  to  see,  the  best  hotels  to  live  in,  and  just  how 
much  it  costs  to  travel,  see,  or  live  in  the  far  countries  she  describes. " 


l^e  &*  Shepard's  Recent  Publications. 


MADAME   SCHWARTZ'S   CELEBRATED    NOVELS. 


MARIE  SOPHIE  SCHWARTZ. 


TWO  FAMILY  MOTHERS.    8vo.    Paper,  $i;  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"The  plot  is  carried  forward  by  characters  lifelike  and  interesting,  the 
whole  leading  to  scenes  everywhere  fascinating  and  instructive."  —  Albany 
Evening  Post. 

THE   RIGHT   ONE.      8vo.    Paper,  $1.00;  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Of  all  the  light  literature  of  the  day,  that  of  this  Swedish  writer  may  be 
pronounced  among  the  most  interesting  and  least  injurious." — Phrenological 
youmoL 

GOLD   AND    NAME.      8vo.    Paper,  $1.00;  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"This  is  a  powerful  book  ;  in  plot  and  style  it  is  equally  good.  Its  morals 
— it  may  be  considered  to  have  several  —  are  unexceptionable;  one  thought 
is  beautiful  —  that  neither  Gold  nor  Name  can  satisfy,  and  both  may  prove 
the  curse  of  those  who  seek  them."  —  Christian  Standard,  Cincinnati. 

BIRTH  AND  EDUCATION.    Svo.  Paper,  $1;  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  This  title  would  make  one  suppose  that  it  was  a  book  devoted  to  common 
schools  and  academies.  Instead  of  that  it  is  a  romance  of  the  very  highes* 
class;  one  of  the  best  historical  novels  of  the  age." — Alb.  Evening  Post. 

GUILT   AND  INNOCENCE.     8vo.    Paper,  $1;  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Madame  Schwartz  is  a  writer  of  much  greater  literary  merit  than  Miss 
Muhlbach,  whose  works  have  been  so  widely  circulated  in  this  country,  and 
her  productions  cannot  fail  to  meet  with  at  least  equal  success." — Nev)  York 
Atlas. 

THE  WIFE  OF  A  VAIN   MAN.     8vo.    Paper,  $1;  Cloth, 
$1.50. 

"Brighter,  fresher,  and  better  worth  reading  than  nine  tenths  of  moden? 
novels."  —  Worcester  Gazette. 


Lee  dr*  Shepard''s  Recent  Publications, 


THREE   SPLENDID    BOOKS. 


CLOUD  PICTURES.  By  F.  H.  Underwood.  i6mo.  Cloth. 
$2.00.     Comprising : 

1.  Thb  Exile  of  Von  Adklstbin's  Soul. 

2.  topankalon. 

3.  Herr  Regenbogen's  Concert. 

4.  A  Great  Organ  Preludb. 

Four  stories  drawn  entirely  from  the  author's  fancy,  diiferent 
in  character,  though  partaking  of  the  same  peculiar  style, 
make  up  the  "  Cloud  Pictures." 

"  The  *  Exile  of  Von  Adelstein's  Soul '  is  a  strange  tale  of  the  supernat- 
ural, repulsive  in  details,  distasteful  in  conception  ;  but  skilfully  worked  out, 
elaborate  in  style,  and  artistically  finished. 

"  '  Topankalon '  is  far  pleasanter  in  its  influence.  A  charming  Utopian 
life  is  rudely  broken  in  upon  by  barbaric  power,  and  a  sweet  feminine  influ- 
ence refines  and  conquers  savage  force,  and  produces  in  the  union  of  the  two 
elements  culture  and  strength,  the  highest  conditions  of  civilized  life. 

"The  remaining  stories  are  specially  adapted  to  the  taste  of  musical  en- 
thusiasts. The  book  is  beautiful  in  mechanical  finish,  matter  and  manner 
harmonizing  in  refinement  and  tasteful  elegance. "  —  Boston  Trattscript. 

THE  DOCTOR'S  DAUGHTER.    By  Sophus  May.    i6mo. 

Cloth.     $1.50. 
All  the  tenderness,  earnestness,  and  jollity  which  characterize 

her  writings  for  young  folks,  and  which  causes  them  to 

be  as  eagerly  sought  by  parents  as  children,  abound  in 

this  story  for  older  readers. 

"Bright  as  a  sunbeam,  natural  as  life  itself. unpretending  as  real  goodness, 
and  sanitary  as  the  personal  effect  of  pure  spring  water."  —  Boston  Trans. 

"A  Prudy  Story  grown  up.  and,  with  all  the  charming  grace  and  subtle 
delicacy  of  its  juvenile  predecessor,  possesses  the  added  interest  due  to  the 
feet  that  it  is  a  story  of  men  and  women  instead  of  children."  — New  York 
Citizen  and  Round  Table. 

"  So  charmingly  told  that  fi-om  first  to  last  the  interest  never  lessens."  — 
Hearth  and  Home. 

•'A  sound,  healthy,  interesting  story. " — Prov.  Press. 

RUBY  DUKE.  A  Novel  of  Society.  By  Mrs.  H.  K.  Pot- 
win.     i2mo.     Cloth.     $1  50. 

"The  struggles,  trials,  and  achievements  of  Ruby  are  nothing  startling, 
grand,  or  sentimental,  but  serve  to  illustrate  the  fact  that  in  every  life  there  is 
some  sure  possibility  waiting  for  development,  and  some  bud  of  promise  that 
shall  blossom  into  a  fi-agrant  flower  of  Christian  grace  under  proper  care." 

"The  author  has  drawn  a  very  beautiful  character  in  the  heroine  of  thia 
Tolume."  —  Episcopal. 

"Naturally  and  gracefully  told." —  Concord  Statesman. 

"A  pleasing  and  well  written  story  of  woman's  life  and  development."  — 
Buffalo  Courier. 

"  Writ^n  ii>  a  free  and  vigorous  style."  —  Salem  Gazette. 


Lee  &^  Shepard's  Recent  Publications. 


WORTHY    PARTICULAR   ATTENTION. 


PENS  AND  TYPES.  Hints  and  Helps  to  all  who  Write, 
Print,  or  Read.  By  Benjamin  Drew.  i6mo.  Cloth. 
$1.50. 

"'Pens  and  Types'  is  the  title  of  a  little  book  by  Benjamin  Drew,  con- 
taining such  hints  and  guides  for  people  who  write  for  the  press,  and  printers, 
as  long  experience  in  the  work  of  proof  reading  has  taught  him  to  be  essen- 
tial. There  are  two  classes  of  people  who  never  properly  prepare  their  man- 
uscript for  publication  —  those  who  do  not  know  how  to  do  it,  and  those  who 
do  not  care  whether  they  do  it  or  not.  The  former  may  be  benefited  by  these 
hints ;  the  latter  are  incorrigible. "  —  Boston  A  dvertiser. 

BEHIND  THE   BARS.     i2mo.    Cloth.    $2.00. 

"  We  have  read  it  with  no  little  interest  It  treats  of  a  class  of  persons 
who,  incapable  of  judging  for  themselves,  should  be  the  more  carefully  and 
tenderly  looked  after  by  their  relatives,  friends,  and  the  State  ;  and  should  not 
be  confided  to  institutions,  without  continuous  scrutiny  and  attention.  We 
have  heard  of  some  sad  delinquency  on  the  part  of  those  to  whose  care  such 
sufferers  have  been  committed."  —  Methodist  Protestant. 

' '  Many  works  upon  the  treatment  proper  for  insane  patients  have  been  pub- 
lished ;  but  never,  we  believe,  until  now,  has  one  been  produced  so  well  cal- 
culated by  its  details  to  promote  the  essential  benefit  of  those  whose  state  so 
strongly  appeals  to  the  hveliest  sympathies  of  mankind." 

ART ;  Its  Laws  and  the  Reasons  for  Them.  Collected,  con- 
densed, and  arranged  for  General  and  Educational  Pur- 
poses. By  Samuel  P.  Long,  Counsellor  at  Law,  Student 
of  the  English  Royal  Academy,  and  Pupil  of  the  late 
Gilbert  Stuart  Newton,  R.  A.  i2mo.  .  Cloth.  With 
Steel  Engravings  and  Wood-Cuts.     $3.00. 

Hon.  George  B.  Emerson,  in  a  note  to  the  author,  says :  — 

"  I  believe  that  any  person  who  shall  careftilly  read  it  would  so  understand 
the  principles,  and  have  his  eyes  opened  to  the  beauties  of  art,  that  he  would* 
never  look  upon  a  picture,  a  statue,  or  a  noble  building,  without  more  interest 
and  a  higher  power  of  appreciating  and  enjoying  it." 

TILESTON'S  HAND-BOOK  OF  THE  ADMINISTRA- 
TIONS OF  THE  UNITED  STATES.  i6mo.  Flexible. 
With  Photographs  of  the  Presidents  from  Washington 
to  Grant.     $1.50.     Large  paper  copies  (limited),  $2.50. 

"  From  this  excellent  betjinning  to  the  conclusion,  the  book  is  replete  with 
the  most  interesting  information.  Each  Administration  receives  its  fair  share 
of  outline.  When  there  have  been  messages  or  proclamations  of  importance, 
they  are  given  either  fully  or  in  well-chosen  extracts.  Especial  attention  has 
been  given  to  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  indeed,  an  epitome  of  the  war  is  thus  pre- 
sented. Besides  a  history  in  brief  of  each  President  and  his  policy,  we  find 
lists  of  the  different  Cabinets,  and  an  analysis  of  contemporaneous  history. 
The  style  is  clear  and  concise  ;  and  the  book  forms  an  entertaining  and  useful 
manual.  If  the  reader  could  remember  its  contents,  he  would  be  well  in- 
fonued  as  to  the  entire  history  of  this  country."  —  PkUadtl^hia  Age. 


Lee  <2r*  Shepard's  Recent  Publications 


IMPORTANT    RELIGIOUS    WORKS* 


HALF    TRUTHS    AND    THE    TRUTH.      Lectures  on 

the  Origin  and  Development  of  prevailing  fornis  cC  Un- 
belief considered  in  relation  to  the  Nature  and  Claims  of 
the  Christian  System.  By  Rev.  J.  M.  Manning,  D.  D., 
Pastor  of  the  Old  South  Church,  Boston.  i2mo.  Cloth. 
$2.00. 

"  This  substantial  volume,  of  almost  400  pages,  embraces  Dr.  Manning's 
lectures  on  popular  infidelity,  its  source,  its  development,  and  its  relation  to 
what  is  known  as  tha  Biblical  or  Christian  system.  The  topics  of  these  nin.e 
lectures  are,  —  Spinoza  and  other  masters,  The  Nature  and  Grounds  of  Pan- 
theism, The  German  Succession,  Pantheistic  Christulogy,  The  Culture  which 
Pantheism  legitimates.  Pantheism  in  the  form  of  Hero-worship,  in  the  Form 
of  Self-worship,  Theism  with  a  Pantheistic  Dritt,  and  the  Strength  and 
Weakness  of  Pantheism."  —  Christian  Mirror. 

THE   SWORD  AND    GARMENT,    OR    MINISTERIAL 

CULTURE.  By  Rev.  L.  T.  Townsend,  D.  D.,  Professor 
in  Boston  Theological  Seminary.     i6mo.     Cloth.    $1.50. 

"The  layman  who  will  study  this  book  carefully  will  be  able  to  form  a  more 
correct  estimate  of  his  pastor's  sermons  than  can  be  done  wittout  it,  and 
every  preacher  who  will  read  it  cannot  fail  to  see  how  religious  subjects  must 
be  presented  in  modem  times  to  meet  modem  wants. "  —  Literary  World. 

"  That  ministerial  readers  will  agree  with  the  author  in  all  respects,  is  not 
to  be  expected.  They  will,  all  the  same,  find  his  book  replete  with  ';uicken- 
ing  and  with  good  counsel.  We  almost  think,  however,  that  those  not  minis- 
ters need  it  most.  The  relations  of  Pew  and  Pulpit  would  be  rendered 
far  more  pleasant  and  profitable,  mutually,  if  Pew  understood  better  what 
Pulpit  really  ought  to  be,  and  in  what  ways  it  may  efficiently  help  it  in  be- 
coming such."  —  Christian  Standard. 

DEAN  ALFORD'S  NEW  TESTAMENT  COMMEN- 
TARY FOR  ENGLISH  READERS,  containing  the  Author- 
ized Version,  with  a  revised  English  Version;  with  all 
the  new  readings  from  the  recently  found  Sinaitic  Manu- 
script, which  was  discovered  by  Constantine  Tischen- 
dorf,  in  a  Convent  on  Mount  Sinai;  also,  containing 
Marginal  References,  and  a  Critical  and  Explanatory 
Commentary,  with  Maps  of  the  Journeyings  of  Our  Lord 
and  of  St.  Paul ;  and  an  Introduction  to  each  book,  giving 
an  account  of  the  authorship,  authenticity,  time  and 
place  of  writing,  &c.,  &c.,  forming  a  compact  Biblical 
Library.     4  vols.     8vo.     Cloth,  $16.00;    half  calf,  $26,00. 

DEAN     ALFORD'S     GREEK     TESTAMENT,     with  a 

Critically  Revised  Text;  a  Digest  of  various  Readings; 
Marginal  References  to  Verbal  and  Idiomatic  Usage;  Pro- 
legomena; and  a  copious  Critical  and  Exegetical  Com- 
mentary in  English.  4  vols.  8vo.  Cloth,  $30.00;  half 
calf,  $42.00. 


Lee  6r*  Shepard''s  Recent  Publications. 


OLIVER    OPTIC'S    NEW    BOOKS. 

NORTHERN  LANDS,  or  Young  America  in  Russia  and 
Prussia.     By  Oliver  Optic.     i6mo.    Illustrated.     $i.5a 

UP  THE  BALTIC,  or  Young  America  in  Sweden,  Nor- 
way and  Denmark.  One  handsome  i6mo  volume.  Il- 
lustrated.    $1.50. 

"  Oliver  Optic  is  so  well  known  to  the  boys  of  America  that  he  needs  no 
introduction,  nor  do  his  writings  require  any  editorial  indorsement.  His 
name  on  the  title-page  of  any  volume  is  enough  to  insure  its  immediate  ac- 
ceptance." —  New  York  Citizen  and  Round  Table. 

BIVOUAC  AND  BATTLE,  or  The  Struggles  of  a  Sol- 
dier.    By  Oliver  Optic.     i6mo.     Illustrated.     $1.25. 

"This  volume,  attractively  bound  uniformly  with  the  previous  numbers 
of  the  series,  and  neatly  illustrated,  details  the  further  history  of  the  hero, 
Phil  Farriugford,  locating  the  scene  of  his  adventures  in  New  York,  and  at 
the  scene  of  the  Italian  war  in  1859,  and  shows  how,  through  all  his  struggles 
as  a  Soldier,  true  to  his  motto,  'Upward  and  Onward,' he  was  ever  true  to 
himself  to  his  friends,  and  to  his  God. "  —  Worcester  Gazette. 

OLIVER    OPTIC'S  ALMANAC.     Fully  Illust.    socts. 

"Who  does  not  know  who  OHver  Optic  is,  of  liis  many  juvenile  books  that 
are  read  by  Young  America  all  over  the  land  ?  Well,  his  Almanac  is  equal  to 
half  a  dozen  booivs.     Be  sure  and  get  one."  —  Peru  Herald. 

"The  Best  Juvenile  Magazine  in  the  World." 

OLIVER    OPTIC'S     MAGAZINE.      Published   by   Lee   & 

Shepard,  149  Washington  St.,  Boston,  at  $2.50  a  Year. 

"A  careful  examination  of  this  magazine  shows  that  it  fairly  takes  the  lead 
in  juvenile  periodical  literature.  It  contains  more  matter  and  in  greater  va- 
riety, is  better  illustrated,  displays  more  genuine  editorial  work  than  any  of  its 
rivals  in  the  field,  and  its  great  popularity  and  ever  increasing  circulation  are 
proofs  that  this  is  the  verdict  of  the  public" 


The    TJniversal   "Vex-diet. 

** '  Oliver  Optic'  is  a  nom  de  flume  that  is  known  and  loved 
by  almost  every  boy  of  intelligence  in  the  land.  We  have 
seen  a  highly  intellectual  and  world-weary  man,  a  cynic 
whose  heart  was  somewhat  imbittered  by  its  large  experience 
of  human  nature,  take  up  one  of  Oliver  Optic's  books  and 
read  it  at  a  sitting,  neglecting  his  work  in  yielding  to  the 
fascination  of  the  pages.  When  a  mature  and  exceedingly 
well-informed  mind,  long  despoiled  of  all  its  freshness,  can 
thus  find  pleasure  in  a  book  for  boys,  no  additional  words  of 
recommendation  are  needed." — Sunday  Times.,  N.  T-  City, 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 

-  ^^  SI  IPS  FROM  THIS  POCKET 


D 

919 

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Knox,  Adeline 

An  american  girl  abroad