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LETTERS OF TRAVEL

BY

PHILLIPS BROOKS

LATE BISHOP OF MASSACHUSETTS

{EDITED BY M. F. B.)

NEW YORK

E. P. BUTTON AND COMPANY

31 West Twenty-third Street
1S94

Copyright, 1893,

By e. p. button & CO.

All rights reserved.

The Eiverside Press, Cimbridfie, Mass., U. S. A.
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company.

SRLF
URL

PREFACE.

These letters of travel of the late Bishop Brooks
have been selected from his correspondence with mem-
bers of his family. They relate to two joiu-neys, of
more than a year in duration, taken in 1865-66 and in
1882-83 resj^ectively, — the former when he was Rec-
tor of the Church of the Holy Trinity, Philadelphia,
the latter when he was Rector of Trinity Church,
Boston, — and to shorter summer trips, generally of
about three months in duration. The circumstances
under which they were written are sufficiently evident
from the letters, and call for little comment.

Several of these series of letters Bishop Brooks
regarded in the light of a record of his travels and
experiences, and after his return reclaimed them, and
found frequent enjoyment in the reminiscences of his
journeys which they awakened.

Further details of these same journeys and other
letters relating to them will appear in the forthcoming
Life of Bishop Brooks. But before that is given to
the public, it seemed possible and desirable to put in
shape these letters of travel, which give an important
chapter of his life that was always of the greatest

iv PREFACE.

deliglit to him, and in which are represented many of
his most striking personal characteristics.

An interesting journey taken in 1887, which in-
chxded his attendance at the Queen's Jubilee Service
and his last meeting with Eobert Brownmg and Mat-
thew Arnold, as well as his second visit to Tenny-
son, is unmentioned, for the reason that he was accom-
panied on that journey by members of his family to
whom the writing of those letters which should con-
tain the continuous record of the summer was commit-
ted. For the same reason, one letter alone appears
in this collection to represent a journey made in 1890,
when, in addition to a trip to Switzerland, he visited
parts of England including Cornwall and Devonshire,
which are associated with Kingsley's Westward Ho !
and also Andover, the name of which is so closely con-
nected with the life of the Phillips family in America.

The letters retain the familiar character which be-
longed to them as being intended for the members of
his own family. It will be seen that in no other form
could they have been given to the public, and they are
thus enabled to convey not only an interesting story of
travel, but also something of that personal charm and
ready wit and genial appreciation which those who
were nearest to him loved so well. His warm remem-
brance of friends from whom he was absent will be
evident in all these letters, and his nature will be seen
in its sunniest and most playful mood.

October, 1893.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

First Journey Abroad, 1865-1866 1

In the Tyrol and Switzerland, 1870 139

Summer in Northern Europe, 1872 154

From London to Venice, 1874 172

England and the Continent, 1877 181

In Paris, England, Scotland, and Ireland, 1880 . . 187
A Year in Europe and India, 1882-1883 .... 191

England and Europe, 1885 325

Across the Continent to San Francisco, 1886 . . 343

A Summer in Japan, 1889 355

Summer of 1890 374

Last Journey Abroad 376

LETTERS OF TRAYEL.

FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

1865-1866.

Steamek Scotia,
Monday p. m., August 14, 1865.

Dear Mother, — My first letter from abroad
shall be to you. It will not be mucli of a letter, for
nobody feels like doing anything- on shipboard, and
especially this afternoon, when the ship is rolling-
worse than it has yet. We have had a splendid
passage so far ; I have not been seasick for a moment
since I came on board, and we are now more than half-
way across. Father and William gave you my biogra-
phy up to the moment of sailing. They came pretty
near having to go to Europe themselves. The first
days out were very smooth, and we were well used to
the motion of the vessel before the rough sea began.
There has been considerable seasickness aboard.

We spend almost all the time on deck. I have
scarcely been below except for meals and sleep. It is
the nicest, laziest, and pleasantest life in the world.
We breakfast at 8.30, lunch at 12, dine at 6, and
sup at 7.30. There is the funniest collection of
people here : English, French, Germans, Portuguese,
Jews, and Secessionists ; lots of Southern people going

2 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

to foreign parts to hide their shame. I have made
some very pleasant friends, especially a nice English
family, whose son has been in our army. They live
in Cheltenham, England, and have invited me to
visit them.

We had service yesterday ; the Captain (Judkins)
read service and a sermon. It was quite interesting.
I thought of you all at home, and felt that you were
praying for us. It is hard to count these things,
though, for we have gained already two hours on you,
and are o-etting; farther and farther to the eastward
all the time. We have not had the sensation of dan-
ger yet, except the last two nights, when it has been
very foggy, and we have run along blowing our
whistle almost all the tune, not knowing what ship or
iceberg we might run into any minute. As yet all
is safe.

It is wonderfid how fast the time goes here. The
days have not dragged at all, though there is next to
nothing to do. We read a little, and walk the decks,
and look for ships, and the hours slip by delightfully.
Father told you, I suppose, that the Langs were on
board. I am burnt up as brown as a berry, and
never was so well in my life. It is a splendid begin-
ning of my tour.

How I would like to look in on you at home, or
rather how I would like to have you all here ! You
would enjoy it intensely. It would not be so agree-
able if one were sick, but everybody says the voyage
has been most remarkable.

I leave the next page to be filled u]3 between here
and Queenstown.

Q

DUBLIN. 3

Wednesday Morning, August ICi.

It is still beautiful and delightful. Just a week
since we sailed, and the most splendid week I ever
passed. Last night on deck, with a high wind, clear
starlight overhead, and the phosphorescent water
below, was glorious ! I shall be almost sorry to land,
except for the nights, which are very disagreeable in
these miserable little berths. My room-mate is an
Englishman, just returning from a tour around the
world. He is intelligent and civil, but I see very
little of him. They say we shall l)e in at Queens-
town on Thursday night. I will mail this on board
to-morrow, and then write again to you from Dublin.

Thursday Morning, August 17.

All lias gone well, and we shall come upon the
coast of Ireland to-night. To-morrow morning I go
from Cork to Dublin, where I shall stay till over
Sunday. Perhaps this letter will reach you a little
earlier by being mailed on board, so I will close it here.
You may consider our voyage as prosjierously over,
and me as safely into the Old World. No stranger
ever got into it easier. When I write again, there
will be more incidents to record. Now I only ask
you to thank God with me for my safe voyage. Give
lots of love to all the household, beginning with father
and going down to Trip. How I shall depend upon
your letters at London.

Your loving son, PHILLIPS.

Gebsham Hotel, Sackville Street, Dublin,
Friday Evening, August 18, 1865.

Dear William,^ — Safe in Dublin. Is n't it fmmy ?
The Scotia arrived at Queenstown at four this morn-

1 His brother, WUliam G. Brooks.

4 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

ing", and we at once went ashore. I breakfasted at
Queenstown, and then took the train for Cork, where
I spent three hom*s wandering up and down the queer-
est city that was ever made. It is one imiversal Sea
Street and Fort Hill. The source whence all the Bid-
dies and Patsies have flowed over the Atlantic was
evident at once, and there are plenty more of the
same sort to come.

At twelve o'clock we took the train for Dublin, and
rode all the afternoon through the loveliest country
that ever was seen, — endless fields with their green
hedges and rich crops, and men and women together
harvesting them. I reached here at six o'clock, and
got a room in Gresham's Hotel, a good house which
you will see marked upon the picture. It has been a
perfect day, especially after the long confinement of
the voyage.

How strange it seems to be here ! The old town, so
far as I have seen it to-night, looks like Boston. To-
morrow I shall see the great Exliibition and all the
lions, and call on one or two people to whom I have
introductions. The Archbishop (Trench), I am
sorry to hear, is out of town. I shall stay here till
over Smiday, and leave on Monday for Belfast and
the Giant's Causeway ; but I only meant to say I am
here safe. God bless you all !

Affectionately, Phillips.

Jedburgh, Scotland,
Wednesday p. M., August 30, 1865.

Dear Father, — See if you can find this little
place upon the map, and then picture one of the
Brooks boys set down at the Spread Eagle Inn (the
picture of a little English or Scotch inn), after an

SCOTLAND. 5

Eno-lisli dinner, to tell liis adventures to the family in
the back parlor of 41 Chauncy Street, Boston. Let
me show you how I got here. Get the big Atlas
which we had out on the Sunday night before I left,
and trace me on from point to point.

The last time I wrote I was in Dublin. I spent
two days there ; saw the great Exliibition (whose
only very striking point is the collection of pictures),
the college, and the other sights of the dingy old
town. I spent Sunday there, and went to service at
St. Patrick's Cathedral, where we had the whole
cathedral service in its most splendid style, Sunday
afternoon, having failed in town to see Archbishop
Trench, whom I was most anxious to see of any man
in Ireland, I went down to Bray, a watering place near
Dublin, where I heard he was to officiate. I did not
fuid him there, and so came back to Dublin ; whence
I started the next morning and went by the w^ay of
Belfast up to Port Rush on the northern coast, where
I spent Monday night. Tuesday, I drove over to the
Giant's Causeway and inspected it thorouglily. It
was most interesting, — more wonderful in its forma-
tion than I had imagined. Then back to Belfast, and
on Tuesday night took a crazy little steamer, called
the Lynx (about as big as the Nelly Baker, — not
quite), for Glasgow, where contrary to all reasonable
probabilities and amid all sorts of disconrforts we
were landed for breakfast on Wednesday morning.
Spent the day there. It is a fine city, and puts one
right into the midst of " Rob Roy." Nichol Jarvie lived
close by the hotel, and I was inclined to run over and
congratulate the good bailie on his safe return from
the Hidilands. There is a fine old cathedral there,
in whose crypt, you may remember, one of the finest

6 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

scenes in " Rob Hoy " is laid. Thursday morning
was clear and lovely, and I took the train early for
the foot of Loch Lomond (Ballocli), and then the
steamer up the lake ; it is a glorious sail, different
from anything I know in America, and full of romantic
interest ; then across by coach to Loch Katrine, and
down that beautifid lake by steamer. This is the one
celebrated in the " Lady of the Lake," and you pass
right by Ellen's Isle. Then by coach through the
Trossachs, a splendid mountain gorge, to Stirling,
where I spent Thiu'sday night ; saw the great castle
and the old home of the Scottish kings. This
brought me to Edinburgh on Friday morning. Of
Edinburgh I cannot say enough. It is the queen of
cities, the most romantic, picturesque, mi-American,
old-world town that ever was. I have been there till
to-day, and would like to have stayed a week longer ;
its beauty is not forgettable, and its quaint sights are
past all description. I went to church there on Sun-
day: in the morning to one of the plainest of all plain
Scotch Presbyterian churches, where you sat on a
board as wide as three matches, and heard a sermon of
an hour long; and in the afternoon to an Episcopal
church, where the service was intoned.

How strange these old towns are! You do not
think of them as belonging to these days. They seem
to have done their work in the world, and handed it
over to us, and crept under their glass cases where
they are kept for shows. Still, let me say for Edin-
burgh that I found it practical enough to get there a
traveling suit of fuie Scotch tweed, for which I paid
only five pounds, which is less than half what it woidd
have cost me in America. Monday I went down to
Abbotsford and " Fair Melrose." It is like a dream

SCOTLAND. 7

to see these places. Sir Walter, the splendid old
fellow, seems to walk and talk with you. It was the
day I had been looking for, ever since I first read
your old Lockhart's Life some fifteen years ago. It
will always be •one of my memorable days. Yesterday
I was at Roslyn Chapel and Hawthornden, both
beautiful, the chapel a wonderful little gem of sculp-
ture ; then back to Edinburgh in the afternoon and
up Arthur's Seat, the famous hill which overlooks
Edinburgh.

I am on my way now to the English lakes, and have
stopped here over night to see the old abbey, and a
Scotch family to whom I have a letter of introduction.
I have seen a good deal of Scotclunen. Their thrift
and intelligence demand respect, but they are cold.
I spent the evening in Glasgow with the family of a
professor there, who all talked the broadest and most
unintelligible Scotch. The professor insisted that
Pennsylvania was a city, but was pretty well informed
aboiit our war and politics, — an Abolitionist and a
Northern man. I wish that you could see this queer
little town. It is Scotland in a nutshell.

Thursday p. m.

I was broken off here, and must close my letter
hastily to make sm-e of Saturday's steamer. I am
very well, and enjoying everything very much indeed,
as you can see. To-day I have spent about Jedburgh
with the Andersons, to whom I had a letter, and who
prove to be very pleasant people. Sunday I expect
to spend at Windermere on the lake ; after that I
shall begin to get towards London, reaching there in
about ten days.

. . . Love to everybody. How I should like to

8 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

see you all! I shall depend on getting a letter at
London. Your affectionate son,

Phillips.

Queen's Hotel, Manchester,
Tuesday, September 5, 1865.

Dear Mother, — My last letter was directed from
Jedburgh, Scotland. This, as you see, comes from
Manchester. I have reached England since I wrote,
and seen something of it already. From Jedburgh I
went to Kelso and Berwick-on-Tweed ; thence to New-
castle-on-Tyne, and to Durham, where I spent a few
hours and saw one of the greatest and best of the
English cathedrals ; then to the little village of Bar-
nard Castle, where I spent the night, and on to Win-
dermere in Westmoreland. My present enthusiasm is
the English lakes. They are very beautiful. I walked
from Windermere to Ambleside at the head of Lake
Windermere, and spent Sunday there, a thorough
English Sunday. I attended service in the parish
church. At Ambleside, or rather close by, at Rydal,
are the old homes of Wordsworth and Dr. Arnold,
and a few miles off, at Grasmere, the homes of
Hartley Coleridge and De Quincey. From there I
went on Monday, by coach, through a splendid lake
and mountain region, to Keswick on Derwentwater,
where Southey lived and is buried, and then by rail
via Lancaster to Manchester, where I arrived last
night. Here I came across Americans again. I have
seen three or four already from Philadelphia. This
hotel is one of the great resorts of Americans in Eng-
land. I am going to make one or two calls here, and
then shall be off to York.

YORK. 9

Wednesday Morning', September G.

I spent last evening at Mrs. Gaskell's. She is
an authoress ; wrote the Life of Charlotte Bronte and
several novels ; a charming lady and most hospitable.
I had a letter to her from Philadelphia. She knows
all the literary people in England and told me a great
deal about them. I met there a Mr. Winkworth,
brother of the lady who did the " Lyra Germanica."
He is the most intelligent Englishman about our affairs
that I have seen. This was the pleasantest meeting
with English people that I have had. Mrs. Gaskell
promised me a letter to Ruskin, in London, with whom
she is very intimate.

York, Thursday Evening, September 7.

You see I began this sheet all wrong, and so you
will have to make its order out by the dates. When
I left off I was at Manchester. I left there yesterday
forenoon, and reached here about two o'clock. Here,
you know, is the greatest of the English cathedrals.
I went all over it yesterday afternoon, and attended the
evening service. The music was very fuie. This
morning I took the train early and have spent the day
at Ripon, where there is another fine cathedral, and at
Fountains Abbey, which is the oldest and most com-
plete of the old monastic establishments. I am back
here to-night, and shall start in the morning for Lin-
coln, Ely, Cambridge, and so to London. I should like
very much to stop at Boston, just for association's sake,
and shall, if I have time.

York is, I suppose, the oldest city I have seen yet.
Here we get our first sight of the old Romans, who
had a splendid town here, and whose old wall still
remains.

10 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

I am afraid my letters sound very much like guide-
books. You must forgive me, but remember that I
have nothing to write except what I see and hear.
You can see that I am going all the time, and from
morning to night. There has not yet been one stormy
day, and I have enjoyed everything hugely. I have
been well all the time. So far, I have seen hardly
anything of Americans, for I have been off their
routes. I have talked with Englishmen in the trains
and at the hotels. I had no idea till I came here
what a tremendous American I was. I have n't seen
a New York paper since I left. How I shall revel in
all your letters next week. Good-by. God bless you
all. Phillips.

Golden Cross Hotel, Charing Cross, London,
Sunday Evening, September 10, 1865.

Dear Father, — At last conununication is re-
smned. I arrived here yesterday, and found at Bar-
ings your noble, long letter, in which I reveled. I
hope to get others to-morrow by the steamer which
arrived yesterday. How good it was to get in sound
of you again and hear the wheels in Chauncy Street
moving on as smoothly and pleasantly as ever. By
this time you are all together again except Fred, and
he will be there soon. How I wish that I could sit
down with you !

My last I mailed at Lincoln. From there I went
to Boston. How strange it seemed ! As we rode
over the marshes (fens, they call them here) that
surround the town, and saw the bricky mass rising
before us, it was easy to believe that we were coming
in over the Back Bay and would be with you at
supper. It is a pretty little town of about 11,0Q0

LONDON. 11

people. You walk up froui tlie station through
Lincoln Street to the church, which is the principal
object of the town. It is a fine old piece of architec-
ture. The sexton, who showed me through it, was very
civil, especially when I told him where I came from.
The vicar was away, or I should have called on him.
I left my card for him. The Cotton Chapel is a nice
little room, well restored; you see it on the right, or
south side of the church, in the exterior one of the
views that I send you. They still use the old John
Cotton pulpit, but the sexton told me that they
thought of getting a new one and giving the old relic
to the American Boston.

I went then to Peterborough, where I meant to spend
the night and go to Cambridge the next day, but
Peterborough was so full, owing to a great sheep-fair,
that I could not find lodgings, and concluded to come
right through to London and go to Cambridge by and
by ; so this is my second day in London. I am right in
the centre of the City at the head of the Strand, close
to Trafalgar Square and Westminster Abbey. It is a
fascinating place, for there is not a step that is not
full of association. I have seen little yet in detail.
To-morrow I begin. To-day I went to hear Spurgeon,
and found myself in an immense crowd and rush.
He is not graceful nor thoughtful nor imaginative,
and preached a great deal too long, but he is earnest,
simple, direct, and held the hosts of plain-looking
people wonderfully. I believe with all his rudeness
and narrowness and lack of higher powers that he is
doing a good work here.

12 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

Thursday Evening, September 14.

This must go into the mail to-morrow, so I shall
finish it to-night. Since Sunday I have been seeing
London, and have been very busy. Let me see:
Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, the Brit-
ish Museum, the Tower, the National Gallery, the
Sydenham Crystal Palace, Regent's Park and its
Zoological Gardens, the Tunnel, with lots of lesser
sights, and the greatest sight of all which one has
always in wandering about the streets of this great
Babel. To-day I took the steamer on the Thames, all
the way along past the City, and through its old
bridges. Every rod here has some interest of its own.
Yesterday I dined at Mr. Adams's at half past seven
o'clock, a very pleasant dinner, and both Mr. and Mrs.
Adams were very cordial and hospitable. Mrs. Adams
was especially full of inquiries about you and mother.
Their son Henry, and daughter, and one or two others
were there. On Monday I go down into Hampshire
to visit Mrs. Kenible. I have a very kind and pressing
invitation from her. From there I shall very probably
keep on into the Isle of Wight. I do not know how
to fuid time enough for England, especially for Lon-
don, as I must leave here by the 10th of October. I
have left the hotel and gone into lodgings at Mrs.
Dekker's, No. 1 A, Craven Street, Strand. It is a
little cheaper and a great deal more comfortable.

I was very much disapj)ointed at not getting letters
from any of you by the last steamer. I do hope the
next will bring some. Don't forget me.

I am so tired, to-night, as every night, that I can
hardly write, so you must forgive the j^oorness of this
letter. I think of you all and home constantly. Tell
Fred to write. I have a letter from Franks, who

HAMPSHIRE. 13

talked of going to Boston with him. I hope he did.
God bless you all. Affectionately,

Phillips.

Warnford Cottage, Bishops-Waltham, Hampshire,
Wednesday, September 20, 1865.

Dear William, — To-day's letter must be to you.
You certainly deserve it for the splendid long epistle
which I received last Saturday, for which I cannot
thank you enough. I am glad that you had so
pleasant a visit at Trenton and Saratoga, and I en-
joyed your account of it exceedingly. Certainly, so
far as mere natural beauty is concerned, I do not
believe there is any need of one's leaving America.

I am writing this before breakfast (they don't
breakfast till half past nine) at the window of a little
English cottage which looks out on as perfect an
English scene as you can imagine. There is a piece
of lawn like velvet in front, with gorgeous flower beds
spotted over it ; then a hawthorn hedge shutting out
from view a little winding lane, beyond which are the
broad, smooth hills of Warnford Park, with splendid
great trees grouped about over it, and the Hall in
the distance, which owns and rules the whole estate.
Is n't that English ? I am staying here with Mrs.
Kemble, who occupies this little cottage close to the
large estate of her brother-in-law. He owns the Hall.
I came here on Monday, and have enjoyed my visit
very much. Mrs. Kemble is, as I expected, very
bright and interesting, very kind, hospitable, and cour-
teous. The family is only herself and one daughter,
who is just as bright as her mother. Yesterday I
drove out with Mrs. Kemble to Winchester, about
twelve miles, where I saw the cathedral, in some

14 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

resi^ects one of the finest in England, and called on
one o£ the canons, to whom I had a letter from
Bishop Mcllvaine. The drive there was very beau-
tiful, over the Downs, as they call them, a soft roll-
ing country, spotted over with the sheep who are
to supply the Southdown mutton, which you know is
the great product of this part of England. To-day I
shall leave here and go to the Isle of Wight, getting
back to London on Friday, and then I shall get ready
at once to go on the Continent. I find it is impossi-
ble at this time of year to see people or institutions
in England to advantage ; so I propose to go to Ger-
many and the East a little earlier, and thus secure
time in the spring to run over here when everything
is in full blast and I can do it more satisfactorily, I
have seen most of the " sights " of London. After I
wrote to you I went to Hyde Park and the Kensing-
ton Museum, where is the best collection of modern
English pictures, Reynolds and Hogarth, and Wil-
kie and Leslie, etc. There is the original of the
" Blind Fiddler " over the nursery mantelpiece at
No. 41. The whole museum is very interesting.
Mrs. Gaskell sent me a letter to Mr. Ruskin, and
I drove out to Denmark Hill, where he lives, to
present it. He was not at home, so I only had the
pleasure of seeing his house, but I shall see him, I
hope, by and by. The house is a very pretty su^bur-
ban mansion ; a fine picture of Turner's was over the
mantelpiece. I saw a good deal of the Adamses.
Mrs. and Miss Adams came to my lodgings and left
a card, " The Minister of the United States." Sun-
day I dined with them ; Sunday morning I went to
the Foundlings' Chapel, where the children do some
of the best chanting in London ; in the afternoon I

BONN. 15

went to St. Paul's Cathedral and heard a capital ser-
mon from Melville, who is called one of the best preach-
ers in England. I called on Dean Milnian with Mr.
Winthrop's letter, and had a very pleasant visit. He
lives in a curious old deanery close to the cathedral.

My next will be dated somewhere the other side of
the Channel. All goes well with me so far, as you
see. I am in capital health and spirits. Just now
I think of you all together at home ; how happy you
must be. Do write to me every week, for steamer day
is always looked for eagerly. It has been very hot
here, but is cooler now, and England is the most
beautiful thing you can conceive. Good-by. God
bless you all.

Phill.

Hotel Goldener Stern, Bonn,
Monday, October 2, 1865.

Dear Mother, — Isn't this a funny j)lace from
which to write you? I wish you could see it, you
would think it funnier still ; but you would have to
allow that it is very pretty. It stands on the Ehine
just before you come to the Seven Mountains, where
the beauty of the Rhine commences, and is one of those
queer old German cities which we have always pictured
and know so little about until we have seen them.
But I might as well go back to where I was at my last
writing. I told Fred to send you my letter from
London, so I will begin there. On Tuesday morning
I went by rail to Dover, and thence by boat to Ostend.
Everybody expects to be seasick on the Channel,
but I was disappointed. We had a foiir hours' sail,
as quiet and gentle as if we were going down to
Hingham. It was most charming, and not a soul on

16 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

board suffered from the sea. We came vip to tlie wharf
at Ostend, and felt at once that we were in Europe.
I brushed up my French and went ashore, passed the
custom-house examination, and took train by Bruges
to Ghent, a queer old town full of historic interest ;
from there to Brussels, a lively French town. I
found it right in the midst of its annual fete of
national independence. The streets were illvmiinated,
fireworks everywhere, and people sitting at tables
drinking beer in honor of independent Belgium. I
fomid all the best hotels full, and was crowded into a
poor one, and jabbered my French for the first time
to waiters and chambermaids. I went from Brussels
to see the field of Waterloo. Everybody does, though
it was n't much of a battle by the side of Gettysburg
and Antietam. They run an English mail-coach out
there every day. Then I saw the Brussels streets and
churches. From Brussels to Antwerp, a dear old city,
full of Rubens's pictures and the quaintest old Flem-
ish houses and costumes. From Antwerp to Rotter-
dam, part by rail and part by steamer, up the Maas,
through miles of dykes and windmills into my first
Dutch towuo Such a language as they talked there !
I have n't half an idea what anybody said to me. I
made a tolerable show of French and got along splen-
didly in German, but the Dutch was too much for me.
I could only smile blandly and point what I thought
was the nearest way to the next town. From Rotter-
dam to the Hague, a nice old place with canals instead
of streets, and fine old pictures of Rembrandt and
Rubens, and a lot of others; then to Amsterdam,
where all is canal and not street again, and the
horrible Dutch tongue still. I went to the New
Church (built in 1408} and heard them sing two

BONN. 17

verses of a hymn in their language. That was enough,
and I ran down the nearest canal to the English
church and heard our own dear liturgy and a sermon
from the English chaplain instead. From Amsterdam
to Diisseldorf, where the pictures come from and
where many splendid ones are still, to Cologne, where
the great unfinished cathedral is, at which they have
been working six hundred years ; and from there, here.
To-day, I have come into Germany, where they speak
German and charge you for your dinner in thalers.
I like the Germans much. I respect the Dutch, but
I would not live among them for a million a year.
To-day, too, I have come into the region of Romish
churches and relics. I have seen the skulls of the
Three Wise Men, the thorns of Christ's Crown,
the wood of the True Cross, one of the water pots of
Cana of Galilee, the steps of Pilate's Judgment Seat,
and a church lined with the skulls and bones of the
eleven thousand martyred virgins of Cologne. Of
course you are expected to believe in them all, and
is n't that pretty well for one day ? But the cathedral
is very noble, by all means one of the great sights of
the world.

That brino's me to Bonn. From here trace me to
Coblentz, Mayence, Heidelberg, Frankfort (where I
have directed my letters to be sent and hope to hear
from you), Leipsic, and Berlin. Am I not a lucky
chap to see all this? I am splendidly well, and keep
on the go all the time, and, as I said, am getting the
hang of German enough to be quite at home with the
people. I eschew all delicacies and rough it gen-
erally. Last night for the first time I found a feather
bed for covering in my room. I kicked it off and
slept like a top without it. The worst thing to me

18 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

about tliis traveling is that you can't drink water.
Think of my misery. But it is too vile to touch.
However, we are now in the region of light Khine
wines. For twelve and a half groschen (25 cents)
you get a bottle of good wine which answers pretty
well, but I would give a dollar for a pitcher of ice
water to-night. All living here is cheap, but in Hol-
land it is very dear and very poor indeed. I think I
did right in coming alone, that is, as no very intimate
friend offered. I find companions everywhere, and see
nuicli more of the people than if I were with a party
of my own. It costs a little more, because I have to
pay aU fees, which are a great exjjense here for one,
instead of dividing them among a party. To-day I
met a Philadelphian on the steps of Cologne cathedral,
and last week I found a family of parishioners at the
Hotel St. Antoine in AntweriJ.

My dearest mother, you cannot think how strange
it seems to be writing in this little German inn, and
knowing that you will read it in the old back par-
lor at home, where you have read my letters from
Cambridge, Alexandria, and Philadelphia. Johnnie
will bring it up from the post office some night, and
Trip will break out into one of his horrible concerts
two or three times while you are reading it. Then
as soon as it is over, father will get out his big candle
and you will put up the stockings, and all go up the old
stairway to the old chambers, and to bed. Well, good-
night and pleasant dreams to you all, and don't forget
that I am off here wandering up and down these old
countries and thinking ever so much about you. At
Frankfort, where I hope to be early next week, I shall
find your letters and have a talk with you again.

CASSEL. 19

Audi now, g-ood-night ; peace and every blessing be
with you always. God bless you all.

Phillips.

Cassel, Germany,
Monday Evening, October 9, 1865.

My dear William, — Just before I left Frank-
fort-on-tlie-Main to-day, I went to the bankers' and
found there your good letter of September 22. It
was my company on a lovely ride up the country to
this queer old German town, whence I answer it from
the dining-room of the Romlicher Kaiser hotel. A
thousand thanks for it. I shall not write so good a
one, but I will try to tell you what I have been doing
in a very busy week since I wrote to mother last Mon-
day night from Bonn. I left there by the Rhine boat
and landed first at Kaiserwinter, on the right bank at
the foot of the Drachenfels ; climbed that hill and saw
one of the loveliest views in the world from the old
castle at its top. We went up through vineyards and
looked down on the Rhine winding past the Seven
Mountains ever so far towards the sea. Kaiserwinter
is a charming little German village, and on my return
from the hill I heard the bells chiming, and stopped to
ask what it meant. I was told it was a " Fest " or
village feast, and so roamed into the village to see it.
It was the most perfect German picture. The young
men of the village were firing at a mark in a little
wine garden, and all the hamlet were gathered to drink
the new wine and look at them. By and by the bird
was shot down, and the man who shot it down was
thereby king of the Feast. He had the privilege of
choosing the prettiest girl in town for the queen, and
then, with a rustic band of music, the jn-ocession,

20 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

headed by the king and queen, marched through the
old streets and called on all the gentry, who treated
them and gave them contributions for a feast, to which
they all returned in the garden. Here they made
merry through the afternoon, and closed all with a
dance. It was just like a German story book.

Juch-he, juch-he, juch-heise, heise, he,
So ging der fiedelbogen.

Think of being at a dance of German peasants on
the Rliine ! From here I took the boat again, and sail-
ing down past vine-covered hills topped with ruined
castles, I came at last to Coblentz. Here I stopped
again and climbed to the Castle of Ehrenbreitstein,
where was another view of the Rhine and the Moselle,
which flows into it just here. Then the boat again,
past the great Castle of Stolzenfels and countless
others, one on almost every height, till we came to
St. Goar, the most delightful little village on the left
bank. Here another stop, and then on through the
region of the choicest vineyards to Mayence, the
quaintest of old fortified towns. You have no idea
of the beauty of this river from Bonn to Mayence.
I think we have rivers whose scenery by nature is as
fine, but tlie castles and ruins have grown to be a part
of the nature, and are not separable from it, and the
soft October air and sunlight of those days showed
everything at its utmost beauty. The trees were gor-
geous in color with not a leaf fallen, and the vineyards
climbing the hills, and perching on every inch of
ground that faced the southern sun, were very inter-
esting.

From Mayence I went to Worms, where Luther
dared the Diet; then to Mannheim, and so to Heidel-
berg. Of all beautifid places this is the most perfect.

CASSEL. 21

It lies along the Neckar, and is overlooked everywhere
by the noblest of" old ruined castles. Here is one of
the great universities which I went to see. The boys
looked pretty much like Cambridge juniors, exce^jt
where here and there you see one with his face all
slashed up from a duel. Let us be thankfid Cam-
bridge has not got to that.

From here I went up to Wiesbaden, one of the great
watering and gambling places, a splendid German
Saratoga. It was in full blast, and I saw the roulette
and rouge-et-noir tables in the gorgeous saloons
crowded day and night. At night, a great free concert
by a splendid band, and illmnination of the beautiful
grounds. It was a strange sight. Then to Frankfort,
where I spent Sunday at the Hotel de Russie. It is
a fine town, part of it very old and quaint, part very
new and fine ; there are some good pictures, some
good statuary, and an old cathedral, where I went and
heard a German sermon and some splendid German
music. Goethe was born here, and his house still
stands. To-day, I came from Frankfort here, through
one of the richest historic regions of all Germany.
This is another of those old towns to which I am get-
ting very used, and which delight me more and more.
I like the Germans immensely. They are frank, kind,
sociable, and hearty. They give you an idea of a
people with ever so much yet to do in the world,
capable of much fresh thought and action. Their
language is like them, noble, vigorous, and simple.
I am getting hold of it very well. They think for
themselves and unselfishly, and they believe in
America. Their peasants are poor, but seem intelli-
gent, and their better classes have the most charming
civility. I have seen more pretty women than I saw

22 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

in all England, and I have not seen the best of Ger-
many. I am unpatient to get to Hanover, and Berlin,
and Dresden, where one sees the finest specimens.

Here, then, you have another week's biography. Is
it not full enough ? My next will be from Dresden.
I shall spend all this month in Germany, and about
the first of November leave Vienna for the East. I
am splendidly well and happy all the time, but very
often, to-night, for instance, I would like to look in
upon you all at home, and tell and hear a thousand
things that will not go on paper. As to money, you
will get two drafts, one in London and one in Cologne.
These currencies with their perpetual changes are
great nuisances. First, in Belgium, it was francs and
centimes ; then, in Holland, thalers and groschen ;
then, in Prussia, florins and kreutzers ; and now back
to thalers and groschen again.

I received a weekly " Herald " to-day ; many thanks.
Send one once in a while, say once a month, for the
only paper on the Continent that pretends to give
American news is the London " Times."

It is two months to-day since I sailed. How they
have gone ! And to me they have been the fidlest
months of my life. Not a day without something that
I have longed all my life to see. So it will go on till
I see the sight that I shall be most glad of aU to
see, you and father waiting on the wharf to see me
land, as you came down before to see me sail.

Good-by; love in lots to father and mother, and
Arthur and John and Trip, and Fred when you writa
God bless you aU. Phill.

BERLIN. 23

Berlin,
Tuesday, October 17, 1865.

Dear Father, — I will begin a letter here and
finish it in Dresden, where I go to-day. I have been
here since Friday, the longest stay I have made any-
where since I left London. Let me see, my last was
to William from Cassel, a week ago yesterday. From
there I went to Eisenach, where Lnther's prison is
in the old Wartburg Castle ; then to Weimar, where
Goethe and Schiller lived ; then to Leipsic, where the
great fair was going on ; then to Halle, where the
university is, and where I stayed and called on several
of the i^rofessors, to whom I had letters. They were
very cordial and pleasant, and I enjoyed my visit there
very much; then to Wittenberg, which is the great
shrine of Luther : his house just as he left it, the
church where he preached and nailed his Theses to
the door, his grave, his monument, and countless other
memorials of him. Melanchthon lived here too, and
his house is still preserved. Thence to Magdeburg,
a fine old town with a fine old cathedral, and then to
this Berlin, the Prussian capital, one of the brightest
and most beautiful of all the gi-eat cities of Europe.
I am staying at the Hotel du Nord, in the street called
Unter den Linden, right opposite the splendid statue
of Frederick the Great, and in view of a dozen noble
buildings, the palace, museum, university, etc. Here
is one of the great picture galleries, which I have ex-
plored thoroughly and know well. I. have been to
several private collections besides. There are many
Americans here. I went to a soiree on Saturday
evening at our minister's. Governor Wright's, and met
some fifty. I have also seen a good deal of the family
of Dr. Abbott, to whom I had a letter, and who is

24 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

a capital fellow. I have dined there two or three
times, and have met his father-in-law, Mr. Fay, for-
merly our minister to Switzerland, who has given me
a good letter to Motley in Vienna. You see I do not
lack for company and friends. I found that the Ger-
mans were much interested in our freedmen, and I got
quite back into my last winter's harness, in making a
speech on the subject to a meeting of German gentle-
men at the American embassy. Tell Fred I used
him. These Germans are with us out and out. The
professors at Halle are Abolitionists of the strongest
sort. It is very refreshing to be with them after be-
ing in England. Berlin is a charming city, the head-
quarters of art and science and music. I went to a
capital concert here last night. I almost hate to leave
the town,

I get no letters since I left Frankfort, and shall
not now till next week, when I arrive at Munich. I
have ordered them sent there. You have no idea
what eras in a traveler's life are his arrivals at places
where his letters meet him. I always rush to the
banker's for them the first thing.

Munich, Thursday Evening, Ocfcoter 26.
I beg pardon most himibly for this long gap. The
truth was I got as far as that, and then went to dinner,
my last day, at Dr. Abbott's, and right after dinner
left Berlin for Dresden, and since then have been so
busy that letter writing has been neglected. I reached
here yesterday, and found letters from father and
mother and Fred and Franks, all in one bundle ; and
to-day I dropped in at the banker's again and found
William's letter of the 3d : so now I certainly must
write, and will go back to where I left off in Berlin

i

MUNICH. 25

a week ago last Monday. I rode direct to Dresden,
where I spent two days ; and such days ! Oh, if you
could see the jjicture gallery there ! it has the picture of
the world which I have waited years to see, Raphael's
Madonna di San Sisto, I will not say anything about
it, because there is no use trying to tell what a man
feels who has been wanting to enjoy something for
fifteen years, and when it comes finds it is something
unspeakably beyond what he had dreamed.

The other rooms of the gallery are rich in the great
paintings of the world. Then I took the train to
Prague, passing into Bohemia and showing my pass-
port to the inquisitive Austrian officials at Bodenach,
Prague is the queerest old Austrian town, with splen-
did views, grand old churches, some good pictures, fine
palaces, and the strangest old synagogue in Europe.
Then to Nuremberg, the oldest-looking town on the
Continent ; old without an admixture or intrusion of
the new, to-day as completely a town of three hundred
years ago as it was then. Tell William to read you
Longfellow's poem of " Nuremberg " aloud to-night,
and you will know just what I saw and how I felt.
From Nuremberg to Ratisbon, another of the very old
towns, with one of the most perfect cathedrals and
the Valhalla or Temple of Fame, on the banks of the
Danube. Here was my first sight of the great river.
Then from Ratisbon here, where I am sitting in my
room of the third story of the Vierjahreszeiten (that
means "Four Seasons ") Hotel, writing this letter to
you. Munich is in its beauty a new town, but splen-
didly fidl of interest. Let me see. Here is the great
Gallery of Old Pictures, the Gallery of Moderns, one
of the great sculpture galleries of the woiid, the great
royal fomidry, the second greatest library, the largest

26 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

bronze statue, the finest clnirch glass, and the noblest
public buildings in Europe. Is that enough, and is n't
this last a week to cross the Atlantic for ? Dresden,
Prague, Nurembei-g, and Munich ! I will say no more
about them, but be sure I am very well contented with
my lot.

Your letters were delightfid to get. I could see you
all sitting around the table writing them and talking
as the work went on. How you must have enjoyed
your visit from Fred ! I am very glad that Franks
went on with him. He is a nice boy, a great pet of
mine, and more than that, a fellow of a great deal of
earnestness, ability, determination, and sterling char-
acter. You may well be glad to have given him so
much enjoyment as he seems to have had in Boston.
Of course, before this they are both hard at work
again in Philadelphia.

I shall be here one day longer, and then leave for
Salzburg, Vienna, Pesth, and Trieste, whence I expect
to sail on the 10th of November for the great East.
You will gather from my letter that all goes well and
I am very happy. There has not been an hour since
I left New York that has not been full of pleasure, not
a day that has not been lighted up by seeing some of
the siohts for which I have longed. And all the East
and Italy and France and much of England and Swit-
zerland is yet in store. Hurrah !

This place is full of English and Americans. I had
a discussion at the table d'hote yesterday with an
English gentleman, during which lots of American
secessionists got up and left. General McClellan is in
Dresden, but I did not see him, and slept soundly in
the same city with the great Coppery hero.

I have a letter from Mr. Coffin, who reports all weU

ON THE DANUBE. 27

in the cliiireli inatteis. He says Dr. Butler is doing
everything there is to do, so 1 feel easier to be wan-
dering about here in this delightful way.

And now good-night. Before you get this I shall
be on my way to the Lands of the Sun. Think of me,
pray for me, and write to me. God bless you, and
keep us all, and bring us safe together again by and
by. Lots of love to all. Phillips.

Poor Trip ! !

Steamboat Francis-Joseph, on the Danube,
Sunday, November 5, 1865.

Dear William, — This is the funniest yet. Here
I am fairly on my way to the East. I am sitting in
a little cabin, with a perfect Babel about me. Every
language except English is in my ears, German,
Italian, French, Hungarian, Greek, and I know not
how many more besides. Outside it is raining guns.
The old river is broad, shallow, and vilely muddy.
The banks are low and gravelly, except where here
and there the great Carpathian Mountains gather
down about the stream and make a grand gorge
where the river goes whirling and dashing through.
We have just done breakfast, which is served at ten
o'clock, with meats and poor Hungarian wines.
Every now and then we pass a miserable little Turk-
ish village, with its dirty, strange-dressed peasants.
It is not much like Smida}' morning, but I must
make the best of it, and do not know how I can use it
better than by writing home, so here goes.

You have kept the run of me, I hope, as far as
Munich, the most beautifid of German cities. From
there I took the train to Salzburg, where I spent two
days. One of them was occupied in a long excursion
to the Konigsee, a lake in the Styrian Alps, shut in

28 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

by snowy-topped mountains, with glaciers all down
their sides. The lake itself is lovely, with its deep
green waters, and picturesque Tyrolese boatmen row
you up to its head and back again. Then you stop
and dine at a little Alpine cottage inn at the foot,
and after dinner drive to Berchtesgaden, where the
great salt mines are. Here you dress up in full
miner's rig, and walk a mile or two into the heart of
a moimtain, and then, sitting down on two parallel
bars with a man in front to hold your legs, you slide
like lightning down into the bowels of the earth and
come to a great salt lake (lit up by hundreds of
lamps) which you are rowed across by two subterra-
nean beings who look like fiends ; then another walk
and another slide bring you to a vast temple, no-
body knows how far under ground, with a dome of
infhiite darkness, where some more fiends are draw-
ing up the salt rock from unfathomable depths still
below. All the way, as your lamp shines on the
walls or ceilings, they sparkle all over with the pre-
cious crystals ; then some more avenues, till you
reach the salt grotto where the choicest specimens
have been collected, and there you sit down on a
little railway car, which plunges along with you
through the mountain till it whirls you at last out
into daylight, and your visit to the great salt mines
is over. It is one of the most unique and splendid
things to do in Europe. I would n't have missed its
interest and beauty for anything. My second day in
Salzburg was Sunday. I went to all the churches
and heard their services and music, and saw the
people in their holiday dress. Of course it is all
Roman Catholic ; there is nothing Protestant in the
town. In the afternoon I went up to the great castle

VIENNA. 29

and saw the view, which is one of the noblest on the
Continent. Then I hunted up the grave of ohl Para-
celsus, the middle-age magician, and his house, where
I amazed an old German lady by insisting on seeing
his room, which I succeeded in doing and in which I
was much interested. Then to the houses where
Mozart was born and where he lived, and wound up
by following a funeral procession, which went chanting
with banners and incense through the town, into an
old graveyard behind one of the cliurches.

From Salzburg by Linz to Vienna, What shall I
say about Vienna? Here is another of the great
picture galleries, with its Raphaels, Titians, Rem-
brandts, Rubenses, and countless others, whom one
learns to know and admire in these splendid collec-
tions. Pictures and churches are the two great
attractions of these old towns. Vienna has a grand
old cathedral with the most beautiful of Gothic spires.
I was there on All Saints' Day and heard high mass,
with an old cardinal officiating, and a full band and
splendid choir of men and boys doing the music.

The next day was All Souls', when the Romish
Church commemorates the dead. All the churches
were draped in mourning, masses were sung, the
graveyards were full of people, and in one of the
churches the vaults were thrown open and the coffins
of the Austrian emperors from time immemorial
were shown to hosts of people, who crawled down to
see them, among whom was I. In Munich they do
better still, and show you the very corpses of their
emperors preserved in glass chests full of spirits. I
did not see their majesties, but I saw an old saint,
six hundred years old, kept in this way in one of
the churches. Vienna is great in relics. A piece of

30 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

the tablecloth of the Last Supper, a piece of John
the Baptist's robes, St. Anne's arm-bone, nails from
the Cross, a large piece of the Cross, and lots of
others, — all these are used at the coronations of the
emperors. I dined at Vienna with Mr. Motley of
the " Dutch Republic," who is our minister there,
and found him full of hospitality and very pleasant,
I had a letter to him from Mr. Fay in Berlin. I
stayed here three days, and bought my last outfits,
thick boots, blankets, etc., for the East.

At Vienna I met Dr. Leeds of Philadelphia (for-
merly of Salem), who is also for the East, and we
joined company for the present. It is almost neces-
sary, and certainly a great deal cheaper, to have
some company in Syria. We left Vienna on Friday,
and concluded to go down the Danube to Constanti-
nople, thence by steamer to Beyrout, thence through
Syria to Jerusalem, getting to Bethlehem at Christ-
mas, when there is a great service there ; then to
JafPa, and thence to Egypt ; then Greece, and so back
to Italy. We took rail to Pesth and then to Baziasch
on the river, where we took a steamer which carries
us to Tchernavoda, whence we cross by rail to Kus-
tenji on the Black Sea, where another steamer meets
and takes us down to Constantinople. (Can you find
these places on the map?) We have begun to find
the delays and the irregularities of Eastern travel.
Already we have changed our steamer three times as
the river became shallower or deeper. Last night
we reached Orsova at about dusk, and to our surprise
found that the boats did n't travel after dark, so we
laid up there till morning. We shall probably reach
Constantinople on Wednesday night instead of Tues-
day morning, as we were told. I think it veiy proba-

IN THE BOSPHORUS. 31

ble that our course may be so slow that I shall give
up Egypt and sail right from Jaffa to Greece, but I
cannot tell. I don't worry ahead. Italy is before me
all the while, and I must get a great deal of time
there. I do not care as much for Egypt. I cer-
tainly shall not go up the Nile, so tell mother she
need not worry about the Pyramids.

My next letters from home will not reach me till I
get to Alexandria or Athens, so I am shut off from
communication with home till then, but you will hear
from me. I received yours and father's and mother's
letters in Vienna, and am glad to hear of all being so
well. Keep on writing ; I shall get them some time or
other. I believe none have missed me yet, and if you
could see how glad I am to get them, you would not
mind writing.

We crossed the Turkish line this morning, so we
are in the Sultan's dominions now. Our passports
bear his stamp, and we feel already like Turks. How
far off it seems ! I shall not have a chance to mail
this till we get to Constantinople, and before you get
it I shall be in the Holy Land. Think of me there,
and be sure that I am thinking of you all.

I am perfectly well and ready for anything. Three
months next Thursday since I sailed. What a three
months they have been. Nine more like them, and
then I will come back to work again. May God keep
us all.

Phill.

In the Bosphorus,
Thursday, November 9, 1865.

I open this to tell you that with many delays and
disappointments we have come thus far. We finished

32 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

our sail on tlie Danube on Tuesday about noon, and
landing at Tcliernavoda took the railway across the
Peninsula to Kustenji. It was funny to find an
Engiish-bviilt railway here, with English conductors
and engineers in turbans. We had gone about five
miles when we came down with a thump, and found
that the train had run off the track and broken the
rails to pieces, so we had to wait there all day till
another train, could be sent for, and we did not reach
the Black Sea till nine o'clock at night. We took
ship at once, and yesterday had the most pleasant sail
down to the Bospliorus, which we entered just at four
o'clock, and sailed as far as this place, whose name I
can't find out, about halfway down the Bospliorus,
where we were quarantined last night, and this morn-
ing are waiting for the fog to clear away to go on to
Constantinople, which is only an hour off. Think of
that ! This will be mailed from among the minarets,
and before to-night I hope to see the Mosque of St.
Sophia and look upon the dancing dervishes.

Before you get this. Thanksgiving will have come
and passed. I hope you had a pleasant one. I sup-
pose I shall be only just in time if I wish you now a
merry Christmas. So I do with all my heart. I shall
spend mine in Bethlehem.

Constantinople,
Sunday, November 12.

There has been no mail before to-night, so I open
this again to say we have been three days here in
Constantinople. They have been very full of sight-
seeing. It is the strangest life to look at, and like
a dream every hour. I have seen St. Sophia, the
bazaars, the howling dervishes, the dancing dervishes,
the Sultan, and much besides, of which I will tell you

SMYRNA. 33

some otlier time. To-morrow we leave for Smyrna.
I received the American papers from our minister
here, and shall get your letters when I reach Alex-
andria, or Athens, about New Year's.

1 have met here a young Mr. W. S. Appleton of
Boston, son of Nathan Appleton, I believe, who joins
us in our trip to Syria. He is a good fellow, so with
our dragoman and servants we shall make a strong
party. Good-by for the third time. Love to all.

Phill.

Smtrna, Siinday Afternoon,
November 19, 1S65.

Dear Mother, — I will just begin a letter now,
though I do not know whence or when I can send it to
you. It will seem a little like talking to you to be
writing it, at any rate. I am here in Smyrna, and just
now especially full of the trip I made yesterday to
Ephesus. So I will begin with that. They have a rail-
way to within three miles, and we took the train early
in the morning to Ayasoluk, a miserable little Turk-
ish village, whose only interest is an old ruined castle,
and the remains of a mosque which is built on the site
of the church where St. John the Evangelist preached,
and under which he is said to be buried. We cannot,
of course, be sure of it, but it seems by no means un-
likely ; and I chose, as I stood there, to believe it true.
Then we rode on horseback across a broad plain,
where the great city once stood, and where now there
is not a trace of life save here and there a poor Turk
straggling about in the lazy way of this wretched
people. We came finally to a pass between two hills,
and here the ruins began. We had only two hours to
examine them, and many of the sites are doubtful. The

34 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

great Temple of Diana is altogether gone ; but the
one thing most certain of all, about which there can be
no doubt, is the theatre where the great meeting was
held, in the Book of Acts, and where Paul tried to go
in to the people. There it is, a vast amphitheatre in
the side of the hill, in ruins of course, but as clearly
and evidently the theatre as it was the day he saw it.
Then there is the market-place where Demetrius ad-
dressed the craftsmen ; and they point out also the
School of Tyrannus, where Paul taught.

They show you also the tomb of Mary Magdalene,
but this is uncertain. The theatre is the one certain
building which is referred to in the Bible story.
Many of the ruins of other buildings, temples, race-
courses, gymnasia, etc., are very beautiful, and the
situation of the old city must have been charming.
Was not this worth seeing? Even coming a good
way for ? And now to tell you how we came here.
Our steamer left Constantinople last Monday after-
noon, sailed down the Sea of Marmora, through the
Dardanelles, past the plain of Troy, where you see the
whole scene of the old war, and the funeral mounds
still standing on the shore, by the islands of Lemnos,
Imbros, and Tenedos, keeping inside of them. The sea
was very rough, and we were at last obliged to come
to anchor in a little bay between Mitylene and the
mainland. (St. Paid stopped at Mitylene, you know.)
Here we had to stay thirty-six hours, waiting for
smoother weather. We went ashore and roamed about,
but there was not much to see, — Turks, and their huts
and camels and donkeys.

We sailed on Thursday morning again, and Friday
morning landed here at Smyrna. I wish you could
see this town ; it is the strangest mixture in the

SMYRNA. 35

world. Turks, Greeks, and Armenians, in their
strange costumes, fill the little dirty streets. The ba-
zaars are full of cross-legged merchants praising their
wai-es in all sorts of gibberish : Persian carpets, shawls,
slippers, with figs, fruits, and spices, all of the East,
Eastern. Every now and then a long caravan of cam-
els laden with bales goes winding through, just arrived
from Persia, with its wild-looking drivers shouting
and screaming to make way for them. This morning,
we went to the English chapel, which is at the English
consulate, and heard a sermon from the old chaplain
who has been here for thirty years. This afternoon,
to the Armenian church, where there was a stramre
sort of service going on in their native language. The
strangest services I have seen were those of the howl-
ing dervishes and the whirling dervishes in Constan-
tinople. They are a kind of order of Mohammedans ;
the former make all their worship consist in working
themselves up into frenzy by roaring and screaming ;
the latter, by whirling round and round their church
till they are dizzy. I saw both, and shall never see
anything more curious in the way of religious service.
In Constantinople, I went all over the great Mosque
of St. Sophia, the greatest of mosques, originally built
for a Christian church, and still having many crosses
and other Christian symbols uneffaced upon its walls.
It is very curious and impressive, and very sacred
among the Mohammedans. Here, and in all their
sacred buildings, you have to take off your shoes and
enter in stocking-feet.

We live oddly here. Our fare everywhere is a mix-
ture of French and Turkish diet, and as unlike home
as you can conceive. On board boat we rise about
eight, and find a cup of coffee waiting in the cabin.

36 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

That is all till ten, when we have a full meal, fish,
meat, pastry, fruit, and wine. Then at five or six a
dinner of about the same, and in the evening tea, so
you see we do not suffer. Traveling here in the East
is very slow and very expensive ; but now that I am
here, I had better do it thorouglily, and it is all inter-
esting. We were two days behind time in reaching
this place, and shall be slow in getting to Beyrout.
The vEgean is the most uncertain sea in the world,
but I shall certainly spend Christmas at Betlilehem,
and Thanksgiving probably at Damascus. I am quite
well off for company with Dr. Leeds and Mr. Appleton,
who joined us at Constantinople. I am perfectly well
and am having a splendid time.

On Board vSteamer Godavery,
Monday, November 20.

We came aboard the steamer this morning to sail
for Beyrout. She is a French steamer just arrived
from Marseilles, and going to Alexandria. I wish
you could see this bay of Smyrna, this lovely morning.
Everything is as perfect as a picture, and the air on
deck is like the softest summer. We shall be four or
five days on board, if all goes well, and I look forward
to it with much enjoyment. This morning, as we
sat at breakfast, you woidd have liked to see a big
nuilatto come in and be greeted by the captain and
officers with inmiense respect as " Pasha," and take
his seat alongside of my friend Dr. Leeds, and eat his
breakfast with us in the most composed and matter-
of-course way. I wondered what they would have said
to it in Philadelphia?

ON BOARD STEAMER GOD AVERY. 37

Wednesday, November 22.

We are still pushing along towards Bey rout. The
weather so far has been delightful, and the sea not at
aU rough. The scenery is perfect, as we go winding
along among the many islands, every one of them a
place of some old associations, the most interesting
we have seen, but I was sorry to pass by Patmos (where
St. John was banished and wrote the Revelation) in
the night, so that we saw nothing of it. Yesterday we
stopped two hours at Rhodes, but the quarantine is in
force there at present and we were not allowed to land.
Just enough cholera remains hanging about these
parts to keep the quarantine alive, and that is the
only danger from it now. I hear there is a ten days'
quarantine in Greece, which will seriously inconve-
nience me if I go there. The fear seems to be that
the cholera will just linger along through the winter,
and then break out with more violence next summer.
However, I am in no danger now, nor shall be while I
am in the East.

Thursday, November 23.

Here we are, laid by for a day to discharge and re-
ceive cargo at Messina, which you will find almost at
the very northeast corner of the Levant. The place,
which we can see plainly from the ship, is a little
straggling village with its mosque. Lines of camels
are continually winding in and out, carrying back into
the interior the goods we bring. The only interest of
the country is, that just behind those hills there lies
the old town of Tarsus, where St. Paul was born, and
where there still stands an old church, which they say
he built. We have no time to go there, and must be
content to know just where it lies. In the distance the

38 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

Taurus Mountains, covered with snow, are very grand.
The weather is superb, as soft as June. Last night
was the most gorgeous starlight I ever saw.

Saturday, November 25.

I must finish this letter now, for to-night we shall
be at Beyrout, and I must mail it. All day yesterday
we were lying in front of Alexandretta (Iskanderoon),
the port of Aleppo, where we discharged part of our
cargo and took on board a lot of cotton. We went
ashore and wandered about the picturesque and dirty
little Turkish town. It had a quaint old bazaar, as
all these places have, where the business of the place
is carried on. Pahn-trees, camels, and women muffled
in wliite with only the eyes looking out, and all sorts
of odd male costmnes, made it a very Eastern pic-
ture. The day was oppressively hot, like August in
Boston.

We sailed at night, and arrived early tliis morning
at Latakia, a pretty little town among the trees, with
mosques and minarets and an old castle. Here we
only stayed two hours, and then started again for Bey-
rout. We stopped once more at Tripolis. At Bey-
rout our voyage ends. There we shall get a drago-
man and horses, and ride down the coast to Sidon and
Tyi'e ; then by the momitains up northeast to Baalbec ;
from there to Lebanon and the Cedars ; then down to
Damasciis ; thence across to the Lake of Galilee and
Tiberias, to Nazareth, to Mt. Carmel on the coast;
from there to Samaria, and thence down to Jerusalem.
That is our route now, but it may be altered. Does n't
it sound interesting? It will take in all about three
weeks, and I will write again from Jerusalem. Now
good-by. I am very well, and think much of you all.

DAMASCUS. 39

God bless and keep you all, and bring us together
again. Love to all. Your loving son,

Phillips.

Grand Hotei^ de Damas,
Sunday Evening, December 3, 1865.

Dear Father, — Here I am in Damascus. I
have reached the most easterly point of all my
travels. I am in the oldest city of the world, and
will write you how I reached here and what it
looks like. My last, which I suppose was sent from
Be}Tout, was written on the steamer from Smyrna.
We landed at Beyrout a week ago to-day, and went
to church in the morning at the American mission,
and in the afternoon at the English consulate. We
had a host of dragomans about us, and selecting
one, we set him at work to make his preparations
for our long Syrian journey. We engage him to
take us to Jaffa, paying all charges at an expense
of five pounds ten shillings per day for the party.
Monday we spent in making our arrangements, trying-
horses, getting our contract with the dragoman cer-
tified before the American consul, etc., etc.

Tuesday morning early our party might have been
seen mounting and making ready for departure at the
door of the Hotel de 1' Orient, surrounded by a great
crowd of curious natives. Let me tell you of what our
caravan consists. Remember, we are to travel thirty
days or more, dependent almost wholly upon what we
carry with us. First, of the animals : there are six
horses, six mules, and two donkeys. The six horses
are ridden by Dr. Leeds, Mr. Appleton, and Francois
his French courier ; by P. B., and Ibrahim Amatury,
our native dragoman, an invaluable person, who

40 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

speaks many languages and does all sorts of things ;
and Aclimet, the muleteer, who owns the horses and
goes with us to look after their welfare. Scattered
about among the animals come our other attendants,
namely, Antonio, the cook, a native of Bagdad, and
Luin his waiter, Ibrahim, Luttuf, a boy from Damas-
cus who sings Arabic love songs, Hoseim, and Elias,
these last four, mule drivers and general servants.
So our whole corps, you see, is twelve. Our baggage
always starts off first, and we follow in an hour or
two. Then we stop to lunch at midday, and let them
get ahead again, and arrive at our camping-place for
the night to find the tents all pitched and dinner
ready. Our horses are good. I am mounted on a
bay horse (not quite as big as Robin), which
would n't make much show on the Mill Dam, but has
stood it splendidly, so far, over these hard roads.

We left Beyrout early this morning on the road
which a French company have built all the way to
Damascus, We kept this road all day. We wound
up Mt. Lebanon by slow degrees, through olive groves
and mulberry-trees, with the snowy summits of the
highest peaks looking down upon us, passing several
monasteries, which swarm all along these hills. At
noon we made our first halt, and lunched at the
Khan Sheik Malunoud, a rude sort of lodging-place
halfway up. About three in the afternoon, we
reached the top of the range, and began to descend
into the valley between Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon,
called, of old, Coele-Syria. Here Mt. Hermon first
loomed in sight, with its great round snow-covered top
off to the southeast. At the foot of Lebanon we came
to the little village of Mecseh, just outside of which we
pitched our first camp and spent the night. We were

BAALBEC. 41

a very picturesque group, I assure you, l)y our night
fire, with our Syrians in their striking costumes and
the wiki mountain rising behind us. We have two
large tents : Dr. Leeds, Apjileton, and I sleep in
one, and the rest of the company in the other. We
live well, our cook is firstrate, and provisions are
plenty. The middle o£ the day is intensely warm,
the nights very cold, but the weather so far splendidly
clear.

Wednesday morning we were off again early, and
leaving the French road soon struck off through the
town of ZaUeh, and so along up the valley towards
Baalbec. We stopped a few minutes at a little vil-
lage to see what they call " Noah's Tomb," which is
a queer thing in a long house ; a kind of grave, about
fifty yards long, in which they say the patriarch was
buried. He must have been about as long as St. Paul's
church. It is a sacred place and covered all over with
offerings. We stopped this day to lunch by an old
mill on the river Litany, and then, after a long, hot
afternoon ride, about five o'clock we saw before us
the ruins of Baalbec. We galloped in, pitched our
tents in the great court of the Temple of the Sun, and
ate our dinner in sight of the grand remains. I can-
not describe to you the splendor of the moonlight that
night, as we roamed about and saw the Temple of the
Sun, with its enormous columns, and the Temple of
Jupiter close by it, both in ruins, but both sublime.
We slept well in the old temple court. Our giiides
told us of a jackal prowling around at night, but I
cannot boast of having seen him. I wish I had.
Right opposite we saw the snowy hills on which the
Lebanon cedars grew, but had no time to visit them.

Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, we thought much of

42 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

America and home. We spent the forenoon in care-
fully going over the ruins, which are immense and
very beaiitifid. At noon we took horses, and now
began, striking for Damascus, to cross the Anti-
Lebanon range. We lunched under a fine old walnut-
tree, two hours from Baalbec, in the midst of a hot
and stony plain. Then crossing another ridge, on the
top of which we saw the mosque which contains the
tomb of Seth, the son of Adam, we came by a steep,
zigzag Roman road into the loveliest little green valle}^,
up which we rode to the town of Sigaya, where we
encamped that night, and while our ThanksgiAang
dinner was getting ready roamed about the little
town, to the great wonder and bewilderment of the
people, who came about us in crowds. These Syrian
villages are the most miserable places on earth.
As soon as you enter one, the children turn out at
your heels, crying, " Backsheesh," and the squalid, half-
dressed men and women creep to the doors and gaze
vacantly at you. The houses are of mud and stones,
one story high, so that you see the tops of the houses
as you ride, with sometimes a Moslem on them say-
ing his prayers towards Mecca, or a lazy group cook-
ing themselves in the sun. Our Thanksgiving dinner
was a great success. We had brought a turke}^ es-
pecially from Beyrout, and a choice bottle of wine.
Antoine made us a superb plimi pudding, we drank
everybody's health at home, and were supremely pa-
triotic. Then we smoked our pijoes and went to bed,
and I for one dreamed I was in America.

Friday morning early, off again up the valley of
Sigaya, past several little villages, over hot stones, till
we lunched by a heap of rocks in an open field, the
only shade for miles and miles. Then in the after-

DAMASCUS. 43

noon we began to get into a deep gorge, and soon
came to a line waterfall, and so felt we were getting
somewhere near Damascus, because this was the river
Barada, formerly the Abana. (" Are not Abana and
Pharphar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the
waters of Israel ? ")

We kept along this stream, passed the old town of
Abila, the scenery growing finer and finer all the
afternoon. On a hilltop close by we saw the old tomb
of Abel, the son of Adam, and so about dusk came to
the beautiful fountain of El Fijeli, where we camped.
It is a spring gushing out of the rock, over which stand
two ruined temples, surrounded by deep groves. It is
one of the sources of the Abana. We sle^it here, and
the next morning left early, crossed the last range of
Anti-Lebanon, and, as we climbed the final peak and
stood beside a little ruined dome upon its top, there
was Damascus in the valley, with its beauty all about
it. No city ever looked so lovely ; a broad girdle of
gardens encircles it, and its domes and minarets fill
up the picture within, while the Abana on one side
and the Pharphar on the other come bringing their
tribute of waters to it. We were soon down the hill,
and a quick trot carried us through the gardens, thick
with pomegranates, oranges, and citrons, into the town
itself, where for a day or two we exchanged tent life
for that at the Grand Hotel.

Now about the town. This is the most picturesque
of Oriental cities, where you see nothing but Orien-
tals, no Frank hat but your own ; where Bedouins
fresh from the desert crowd you in the streets ;
where you sit in the court-yard of your hotel, hear
the fomitain splashing in the centre, and see the
orange-trees around it ; where the promenade is on

44 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

the house-top, and the narrow streets are full of dogs,
donkeys, and camels. It is a delightful town ; and
then its history ! Here is the street called " Straight,"
where Judas lived, keeping its old name (see Acts
ix). They show you the house of Judas, where Paid
lodged, and the house of Ananias. On the wall you
see the place where Paul was let down in the basket,
and even the place of his conversion is kept by a
tradition ; nay, more, the old house of Naaman the
Syrian is shown, with a hospital for lepers close by it.
The poor creatures came and begged alms of us as we
were looking. And the old mosque which was once
a Christian church is said to have been, further back,
the " House of Rimmon " of the old Testament. At
any rate here is the old town, and all these things
were here, and the life in this old stagnant East is
just about the same to-day that it was then.

This morning I went to the Greek church and saw
a miserable mununery. This was my only church-
going. There are not enough English here to keep
up an English service. The English consul, Mr.
Rogers, called on us last night, and says he is ahnost
alone here.

You will wonder why I have written you all this.
The truth is, I have written partly for myself. I don't
dare to hope that it will all interest you, but I want
to keep a pretty full account of this Syrian trip, and
so put it down day by day. Please keep my letters.
To-morrow we leave for Caesarea and Tyre. You will
see our route is somewhat changed since I wrote to
mother. I hope to get letters from you all at Jeru-
salem at Christmas. I am perfectly well, with good
spirits and lots of appetite, but sometimes I think
how good it will be to get home again and think this

SYRIA. 45

over. I wonder how you all do, and I pray you are
well. Good-by ; I don't know when you will get
this, probably not till after New Year's, when I shall
be in Egypt or in Greece. I am thirty years old
next week. God bless and keep you all.

Phillips.

In Tent at Rascheya, Syria,
Tuesday, December 5, 1865.

Dear William, — I wrote to father from Damas-
cus on Sunday, and I will continue my plan of a jour-
nal while I am in Syria. I want you to keep the
letters, for they will be all that I shall have to recall
the details of my route. Let 's see, then. Monday
morning, early, we went out with the janizary of the
British consul, who was kindly loaned for the occasion,
and went over the great mosque. Except for its his-
tory, there is not much of interest about it, but it is
curious here, as in St. Sophia and elsewhere, to see
how in changing a Christian church to Moslem pur-
poses they have left ever so many Christian emblems
uneffaced ; the communion cup is still upon the bronze
doors, and the outside has a walled up doorway with
the inscription, " Thy Kingdom, O Christ, is an ever-
lasting Kingdom, and thy Dominion endureth from
generation to generation." After the mosque, we
roamed about the bazaars, especially a dim little pic-
turesque hole where the silversmiths of Damascus do
their beautiful work.

At two o'clock we were on horseback again, and rid-
ing out on the French road, through the gardens that
girdle the city, along the sparkling Abana. We said
good-by to Damascus, and encamped for the night at
Dinas, a little village about twelve miles off in the

46 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

Anti-Lebanon mountains. The night was very cold,
and early this morning- we were off, and have ridden
eight hours to-day, still over the Anti-Lebanon. We
passed an old castle and temple in ruins about noon,
jjerhaps one of the old Baal temples which abounded
in this region of Hernion. Then we stopped and
lunched under a little group of trees by the wayside,
and at last, after a hard day's ride, came to our camp-
ground. It is a larger village than usual, but very
forlorn. There is an old castle on the hill, to which
we wandered before dinner and saw its Turkish gar-
rison. This was one of the towns where the massacre
of the Christians by the Druses was most terrible in
1860, and much of it is still in ruins. But the most
interesting thing of all is Mt. Hermon. There it lies
to-night above the town, with its broad top covered
with snow, — a splendid old hill, the northern limit of
Palestine. We have had it in sight from time to time
for a week, and here we are close to its feet, and, sit-
ting among our Syrians round our fire, we fancy we
can see the old Israelites doing " their idolatry on this
one of the high places," where the old altar still
stands. Here, just now, came the commander of cav-
alry from the pasha of the town, to offer the Franks
his profound regards and any help they wanted. You
should have heard the palaver that went on between
us with our good Ibrahim for interpreter.

Camp at C^sarba Philippi,
Thursday Evening-, December 7.

Here we are, encamped in a grove of old olive-
trees close to Banyas, which is on the site of the old
Caesarea Philippi on one of the southern spurs of Mt.
Hermon, and close to the source of the Jordan. Yes-

C^SAREA PHILIPPI. 47

terday morning we broke up camp at Raseheya, and
started across the Anti-Lebanon mountains to visit the
great gorge and natural bridge of the Litany. It was
a terrible day's ride. We were in the saddle ten
hours, over the most abominable road. We reached
the gorge about three o'clock, and were w^ell repaid.
The river is very fine, and the great chasm through
which it breaks its way is bold and picturesque. We
then went to Hasbeya, whither our mules had pre-
ceded us by a shorter route, and where we arrived
after dark. This morning we rode from there over
rough hills, till at last we came out into the Jordan
valley, and saw far off before us the waters of Lake
Merom, through which the Jordan flows. It was a
pleasant ride then around the spur of Mt. Hernion,
which we are getting to know like an old friend, over
fields fidl of the crocus, or, as our dragoman called
it, " the lily of the field," which was very beautiful,
and neither sowing nor spinning, till we came in sight
of the great castle on the hill and soon rode into this
little village.

Here we lunched, drinking the Jordan water, and
then spent the afternoon in wandering about where
the sacred river bursts out of a deep cave on which
was built first the Temple of Baal, then of the Greek
god Pan, then of the Eoman Caesar, and now there
stands there a little white Mohammedan mosque.
The whole scene is very beautiful. The Jordan runs
in many streams among the ruins, and is overgrown
with laurels and olives. The present village is mis-
erably mean. Its inhabitants are Mohammedans, and
in the mountains around are the wild Bedouins. This
is the first night we have kept watch. This, you know,
is the place where Clu-ist had the conversation with

48 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

St. Peter, and many put the Transfiguration on some
one of the spurs of Hermon which surround us. This
is the first spot that we have touched where Christ
himself has been, and it is fidl of interest. Our
weather is still perfect, and to-night soft and warm,
with gorgeous starlight. An English gentleman and
his sister, going from Jerusalem to Damascus, are
encamped close to us.

Tyke, Sunday Afternoon,
December 10, 1865.

Please get your Bible and read Ezekiel's Prophecy,
and then imagine me set down among the ruins of
this old Queen of the Seas. Friday morning we left
Banyas and rode across the plain of Hideh or Merom.
Here we stopped and saw another of the fountains of
the Jordan at Laisli or Dan. You will find all about
it in Judges xviii. It is a beautiful spot, a little hill
with springs bursting out all around its roots, and
running in many channels down the fertile plain
towards Lake Merom. Now we have reached the
northern border, and may look over into Palestine
from Dan towards Beersheba. Out of the plain we
struck again into the mountains, and kmched by a
picturesque little bridge over the Litany, under the
shadow of a splendid great Phoenician castle, famous
in Crusaders' history, which overlooks all the country
from a lofty liill. We spent that night at the village
of Nabatiya. It was our first rainy night, and what
with the tent pins giving way and the Syrian floods
pouring down tlirough the thin places of our tent
roof and the high wind making the sides rattle terri-
bly, we had an exciting night of it. Next morning
we were off in the rain, striking right for the coast.
About noon we saw the sea, and kmched on a hill that

TYRE. 49

overlooks it, near the little village of Toosa. Then
it cleared up, and our afternoon's ride was glorious.
We wound down the hill, crossed our old friend the
Litany near its mouth, and so saw the last of it, and
then kept down the shore with Tyre right before us,
reaching it in about three hours. It used to be an
island, but Alexander built a causeway out to it, and
the water has heaped up the sand on both sides of the
istlmius till it is a broad-necked peninsula. It is the
most ruined of ruins. An old church, once splendid,
in which Origen and Frederick Barbarossa were
buried, is the only building they ever pretend to
show and that you can hardly make out at all. Every-
thing else is gone.

The seashore is lined with piles of splendid marble
and granite columns, worn out of shape by the waters
and half sunk in the sand. The place where Hiram
lived in magnificence may have been this poor little
house which we have hired to spend Sunday in. It
has one big room through which the family of queer-
looking people whom we have dispossessed circulate
continually, and where we three sleep and eat while
our cookery goes on in the yard outside. The whole
island is only about three quarters by one half mile,
and liaK of this now is utterly covered with rubbish.
But the view is splendid to-day. On one side we look
out upon the noble Mediterranean, and feel (at least
I do) as if the stretch of waters established some sort
of conmiunication with home. On the other side
stretches the long coast, with the hills of Lebanon
skirting it, and old Hermon with his snowy top, the
watch-tower of all this country, glistening in the sun
beyond. Just round that i)oint up the coast lies
Sidon, the mother -city of this Tyre, and the little

50 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

white mosque on the hill this side of it marks the
place of Sarepta, the town where Elijah met the
widow.

All our yesterday's ride was through the coasts of
Tyre and Sidon, and any spot oiu' horses passed may
have been the scene of Christ's meeting with the Syro-
phoenician woman. " What city is like to Tyrus, to the
destroyed in the midst of the sea." Being the only
Franks in town, we make some little sensation. All
day the Star-Spangled Banner has been seen flying in
our honor on the house of an old gentleman who acts
here as our consular agent for the transaction of no-
body knows what business, and this afternoon he sent
us word that he would be glad to have us visit hun.
We went, of course, taking Ibrahim for interpreter,
and were soon squatted on a divan around a room
whose only other furniture was the rugs on the floor.
Narghilehs and coffee were brought, and then we made
civil speeches to each other, which were didy translated,
and left with lots of salaams and wishes for eternal
prosperity. Then our quarters have been besieged all
day with natives small and large, male and female,
bringing " Antikers," as they call them, rings, coins,
seals, etc., dug up among the ruins, for us to buy at big
prices. Fortunately Appleton is a coin collector, and
so satisfies them for the party.

These last two weeks have been like a curious sort
of dream ; all the old Bible story has seemed so
strangely about us, — the great flocks of sheep that
we meet everywhere, wandering with their wild shep-
herds over the hills ; the lines of loaded camels that go
laboring across the horizon ; the sowers in the field
scattering their seed, half on the stony ground (it is
almost paved with stones), and half among the great

HAIFA. 61

thorn bushes that grow up every-where ; the little
villages, half a dozen every day, with the j)eople on
the house-tops ; the wild men of the desert, who come
suddenly in your way among the hills ; and the fam-
ilies with nmles and asses, women and children, who
seem to have no purpose in their traveling but just to
fill up your picture for you. Far off to the east,
from time to time the high hills, the hills of Bashan.
(Think of being in the dominions of that old Og
whom we have always read of in the Psalter.) Olive-
trees, palms, fig-trees and pomegranates, all this, and
Lebanon, Damascus, Hermon, Jordan, Csesarea, and
Tyre ; it certainly makes a strange two weeks. The
next two wiU be fuller still from here to Jerusalem.
You shall hear of it. . . .

I shall send this from Acre. I hope you will get
these Eastern letters. Good-by now. God bless you
all.

Phill.

Haifa, at the foot of Mt. Cakmel,
Monday Evening, December 12, 1865.

Dear Mother, — I sent a letter to William from
Tyre, which I hope he received. I will carry on my
story from there. We left Tyre early yesterday morn-
ing, and as we rode out saw the fishermen spreading
their nets on the rocks, as the old Prophecy of Eze-
kiel, you know, foretells. It was a lovely morning, and
the seashore was sparkling in the early light as we
came across on to the mainland and struck down the
coast. We passed, yesterday, a group of fine old
fountains and pieces of moss-grown aqueducts, where
the city of old Tyre stood, and a beautiful little
spring on a hill where was once a town called Alexan-

52 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

clros Kyne, or Alexander's Tent. It is said the great
conqueror lodged there on his way to besiege Tyre.
In the afternoon we climbed over a great white cliff
which runs out into the sea and is called the Tyrian
Ladder. It is the southern limit of Phoenicia, and
below it Palestine begins. Soon after, we came to
our camping-place at the little village of Eszib, whose
old name was Aclizib, which you will find in Judges i.
31, and was one of the towns given to Aslier, but
never captured by them. We camped close by the
well, and all the evening women were coming for the
water, which an old man, sitting on top of the well,
drew for them ; the scene was very picturesque, but
the town, except for one or two splendid palm-trees
and a noble sea coast, is forlorn.

To-day we have been riding down the coast. The
scene is all changed. We are in the plain of Acre, a
rich country, the very sight of which lets you under-
stand how Asher " dipped his foot in oil " and " his
bread was fat, and he yielded royal dainties." All
along the coast are the creeks and bays where he lin-
gered when Deborah reproached him with " abiding
in his breaches." We rode past golden orange or-
chards, and ate the fruit fresh from the tree. About
noon we came to Acre, an old city formerly called
Ptolemais, whose principal history belongs to the Cru-
sades and to Napoleon's time. We went through it ;
saw the fortifications and the ruins of an old church,
but there was not much to look at. After it, came a
long beach of twelve miles, stretching from Acre to
where Mt. Carmel runs out its grand promontory into
the sea. We crossed this rapidly, and just before we
reached Carmel came to the mouth of a swift river,
where we sat down under a palm-tree and lunched.

HAIFA. 53

It was " that ancient river, the river Kishon." It
comes up from the plain of Esdraelon and passing
through the Carmel Mount runs into the sea near this
town of Haifa, which lies at the foot of the hill, and
in which our tent is now pitched. The old stream
looks strong enough to sweep away another Sisera,
but Carmel is what we came here for. There it is
with all its " excellency," a long ridge running far out
into the sea and back into the rich country, with
Sharon on its south and the plain of Acre on its north.
There is the place where Elijah and the priests of
Baal had their trial, and there is the ridge where his
servant went up and looked seven times till he saw
the little cloud rising out of that bright Mediterranean,
which has not had a cloud on it to-day. All is clear
as if we saw the prophet's altar burning. This after-
noon we climbed the cliff to where the convent stands
overlooking the sea. The Carmelite brothers received
us hospitably. They are jolly, comfortable-looking
fellows, with brown coarse coats and cowls. In their
church they take you down under the high altar and
show you the cave where Elijah hid from Jezebel. It
is fitted up in their tawdry style with a small chapel.
Halfway down the hill is another, larger cave, called
the Cave of the Sons of the Prophets, where it is said
Elijah received the chiefs of the people. This is in
the hands of the Mohammedans and is fitted up for
their worship, so curiously are things mixed up here.
But the mountain itseK, and its glorious view, is just
what it was in Elijah's time, wooded to the top, look-
ing out on l)eauty and richness everywhere. West-
ward, over the blue sea, north along the splendid bay
of Acre, over the great fertile plain to the Lebanon
hills in the distance, with Hermon's white head look-

54 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

ing over tliem, east into Galilee to the liills of Kedesli-
Naplitali and the fertile plain of Esdraelon, and south
along the beautiful coast over the smooth pasture-land
of Sharon, what a place for a prophet, and what a
scene for the great trial of his faith! Below, the
Kishon runs through the plain as if it were still tell-
ing to-night of how he took the prophets of Baal and
slew them there. We sleep under the shadow of Car-
mel. I am very tired, and all is still, except the jack-
als screaming in the distance. Good-night. I wish I
were going to bed in that back room at home.

Nazareth, Wednesday Evening,
December 13, 1865.

We are encamped on this my thirtieth birthday in
a group of olive-trees just by the fountain of Naza-
reth. We left Haifa early this morning and rode
along the base of Carmel for several hours, then
struck across the plain, crossing the Kishon by a deep
and rapid ford. Soon after we came to the first of
the Galilee hills, and climbing it saw Mt. Tabor,
the great mountain of Galilee, before us, and the
plain of Esdraelon stretched out between it and
Carmel. It was just the landscape which I have
always expected in Palestine, — low, round, wooded
hills, and rich plains between. Tabor is the finest,
most beautifully shaped of the sacred hills, a soft
smooth cone with wooded sides and top. We rode
on all the afternoon tlu'ough hills and glens, till
about four o'clock, when we came suddenly to the top
of a steep hill, and there lay Nazareth below us. It
was a strange feeling to ride down through it and
look in the people's faces and think how Christ must
have been about these streets just like these children,

NAZARETH. 55

and the Virgin like these women, and to look into
the carpenters' shops and see the Nazarenes at their
work. The town lies in a sort o£ gorge, haKway
up the side of a pretty steep hill. As soon as our
horses were left at the camp, we climbed the " hill on
which the city was built," and saw what is perhaps the
finest view in Palestine. I thought all the time I
was looking at it how often Jesus must have climbed
up here and enjoyed it. There were the Lebanon hills
and Hermon to the north. Tabor to the east, and a
line of low mountains, behind which lie unseen the
Sea of Tiberias and the Jordan ; beyond them, the
hills of Moab stretching towards the south. On the
southern side the noble plain of Esdraelon, the battle-
field of Jewish history, with Mt. Gilboa stretching
into it, where Saul and Jonathan were killed. Jez-
reel lies like a little white speck on the side of Gilboa,
and Little Hermon rises up between. On the west,
the plain is closed by the long, dark line of Carmel,
stretching into the sea, and the sight that His eyes
saw farthest off was that line of the Mediterranean
over which His power was to spread to the ends of
the world. It is a most noble view. The hill is
crowned with ruins of the tomb of some old Moslem
saint. It is the same hill up which they took Jesus,
to cast Him down from the cliff. The scene was
very impressive in the evening light.

When we came down we went to the village foun-
tain, where the women of the town were drawing
water. Such a clatter and crowd ! Some of them
were quite pretty, and the sight was very Oriental, as
they walked off with their water-pots upon their
heads. The Greeks, by their tradition, put the An-
nunciation at this fountain ; the Latins have a grotto

56 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

for it, wliicli tliey say was Mary's house. This is a
good place to keep a birthday, is n't it ? Our tent
fire is burning bright, and I shall sit by it a little
while and then to bed.

Tiberias, Thursday Evening,
December 14, 1865.

Our tents are pitched to-night by the Sea of Galilee,
in the ruins of the old castle of Tiberias. We spent
this forenoon in continuing our survey of Nazareth.
First, we went to see the j^lace of the Annunciation.
We entered the church of the Franciscan monastery
while service was going on. After it was over, a
monk took us down under the altar into a cave, fitted
up richly for a chapel, under the altar of which is a
black marble cross, to mark the place where Mary
stood. Opposite it are two stone pillars, between
which the angel came. One of them is broken
through, so that a piece hangs from the ceiling, and
a piece stands up from the floor. They say the Mos-
lems tried to l)reak the cave down, and could n't.
From this cave a stairway leads up into another, a
second room of the house. Over the altar of the
Annunciation is a good picture of the scene, and
arovind the cross are ever-burning silver lamps. It is
a pretty and impressive spot, and there is no impos-
sibility about its being the place.

We went then to the carpenter's shop of Joseph,
and the synagogiie where Christ preached. Both are
modern churches, and there is nothing interesting
about either. Then to the church where the Greeks
celebrate the Annunciation. They place it at a foun-
tain under a tawdry old church, and take you down
into a cave, where they have their lamps around their

TIBERIAS. 51

cross, and a well from which a monk draws up water
and gives you to drink out of a silver cup. The old
church was very prettily fidl of birds flying- ahout.
These are the sights of Nazareth, but its old streets
and the view from the hill are its true interest, and
those I shall never forget. We said good-by to it,
and left it lying among the hills, where Jesus must
have looked back upon it the last time He went
out.

A quick ride of five hours brought us here. We
lunched at Cana of Galilee, at least at a little village
which one legend calls so. There is another claimant
to the name which we saw in the distance ; either
may be the place. Both are so situated that you
can picture Jesus and His mother going out from
Nazareth to a near town to attend the marriage to
which they had been invited. Ours was a forlorn little
town, in which we stopped at a wretched church,
where a cross-legged master was teaching twenty
cross-legged boys to read their Arabic. Against the
wall were built in what looked like two fonts, about
the size of that in my church. This is said to be the
house of the marriage. Then we rode on through a
rolling country which Jesus must have often walked,
on His way back and forth between Nazareth and the
lake. The whole comitry, every hill and valley,
seemed marked with His foot-prints. At last we
came to a broad plain with one round hill rising-
out of it. Here the last great battle of the Crusades
was fought, and Saladin finally conquered the
Christians. Legend calls the hill '' The Hill of the
Beatitudes," and says it is where the Sermon on the
Mount was preached. Perhaps it is. Opposite is
another hill, where they say Christ fed the multitude,

58 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

but that must liave been on the other side of the
lake. Another ridge climbed, and there was the
" Sea of Galilee, wliich is the Sea of Tiberias."
There it lay in the soft afternoon light, blue among
the purple hills. There were the waves He walked,
the shores where He taught, the mountains where He
prayed. With Hermon's white head to the north,
with the steep Moab hills coming to its brink on the
east, with its low western shore where the old city
stood, with Safed " the city set on a hill " off to the
northwest, it was a sight not to be forgotten. I
have hardly ever enjoyed an hour more than the one
we spent in winding down the ridge into Tiberias.
The town lies on the lake shore ; it is miserable and
dirty. It has a population of wretched Jews, who are
rascally-looking creatures in black felt hats, and long-
elf locks. The women are horribly tattooed with ink.
" Every prospect pleases, and only man is vile." So
ends a most interesting day. By the way, looking
into a house-door at Nazareth, this morning, I saw
" two women grinding together at the mill " sitting-
together on the floor, and working the upper mill-
stone round uj^on the lower by a handle, which they
both grasped.

Our weather is still splendid, and to-night is soft
and warm as June. Good-night.

TrBEKiAs, Friday, December 15, 1865.
To-day has been a perfect day, cloudless and warm,
and we have spent it in seeing this wonderful lake.
We were ready early, and our horses were brought out
because there was a fresh wind blowing and the timid
fishermen would not venture the one boat, which is
now the only craft of the lake, upon the water. So

TIBERIAS. 59

we must ride. We left the old walls of Tiberias be-
hind ITS, and rode northward along- the western shore.
Tiberias itself is a miserable town, but its walls
show that it was once fine, and it was new and at its
best in Jesus' day. After crossing one or two ridges,
with their intervening valleys, we came out on a
plain three miles long and extending back a mile or
two, flat and fertile, from the beach. This is the
" land of Gennesaret." Just as we entered it from
the hills, we came to a little group of twenty or thirty
dirty huts with a ruined tower near them. This is
Magdala, the native town of Mary Magdalene. The
Arabs still call it Medjel. We rode across the plain,
through the oleander bushes that skirt the shore, and
at its other end came to an old ruined klian, a foun-
tain gusliing out imder an old fig-tree, and an acre
or more covered with old foiuidations and heaps of
stones. Rioht in the midst was a ^vretched burial
ground, and three poor Bedouins were digging, as we
passed, a grave for a body that lay WTi-apped in its
blankets on the gromid beside them. This is Caper-
namn, the home of Christ after Nazareth rejected
Him. " And thou Capernaum." Passing this, we
climbed a cliff, and, keeping a narrow road cut in the
rock, came by and by to another beach, and beyond
it to a snug little cove, just the place for fishing-boats
to be dra\\Ti up, with nothing on the shore but some
old ruined aqueducts, and some reservoirs, one of
them now used for a mill. Not a living soul was
there. Tliis is Bethsaida, the city of John and
James, Peter and Andrew. We kept along then a
mile or so farther, and came to another heap of ruins
interspersed with miserable huts, and the black tents
of Bedouins, who are in temporary occupation. This

60 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

is Chorazin. There are ruins of some fine build-
ings here, columns, capitals, etc., but this is probably
later than Jesus' time. Here we lunched, sitting in
the shadow of one of the huts, with the Bedouins gath-
ered on its roof, staring at us. They seemed harm-
less, but would be bad enough if they had the chance.
There were some good faces among them. I noticed
especially one sweet - looking little girl, whom it
seemed hard to leave in such keeping. These are the
cities " wherein many of His mighty works were
done," — all ruined and gone. We turned back
here ; our dragoman woidd not let us go farther, for
fear of Bedouins. We saw in the distance where
the Jordan enters into the lake, and then riding back
to Tiberias, made the fisherman take us out to row
on the lake. It was strange to see him, as we reached
the middle, and the hour of prayer arrived, leave
his rudder, and spreading his cloak on the floor of the
boat, kneel towards Mecca and with many gestures
say his evening prayers. All this on the lake of
Gennesaret. But religions are all mixed up here.
We had the Tiberias fish for breakfast this morning,
but they were so bad we could only taste them. To-
morrow we leave the lake, but I shall never forget
how it has looked to-day.

Nazaeeth, Saturday Evening,
December 16, 1865.

We have returned here to spend Sunday. Our
road from Tiberias was different from the one we
took in going there, and was arranged to take in Mt.
Tabor. It has been a hard day's ride, nine hours and
a half on the way. The only point of interest was
Tabor. After keeping it in sight all the forenoon,

NAZARETH. 61

we reached its foot about twelve o'clock, and climbed
it slowly. The ascent is not long-, and there is a sort
of road, but very rough. You wind up through oak-
trees, scattered among the rocks, and about an hour
brings you out on the top, where there are the ruins
of an old town, and a convent of Greek monks. The
view- is noble, though not equal to the Nazareth hill.
The beautiful plain of Esdraelon stretches to the west,
with Carmel closing it in. On the south lies Little
Hermon, " the Little Hill of Hermon," with Endor
and Nain upon its sides, and the momitains of Gilboa
showing their heads beyond. To the west you can
just see a bit of the lake, and trace the valley where
it lies and where the Jordan rmis, with the table-land
of Bashan stretching out beyond, and the blue hills of
Gilead farther off still. To the northwest there is
old Hermon, still with his snow, so that we have the
two great mountains associated. " Tabor and Her-
mon shall rejoice in Thy name." You know that
Tabor has been held to be the mountain of Transfigu-
ration. There is no authority for it but tradition,
and I for one am well convinced that some one of the
ridges of Hermon is far more likely to be the place.
But Tabor is very beautiful, and has been always one
of the sacred places. We met on the top a poor
Abyssinian priest, who had come all the way hither
on a pilgrimage, and now clings about here, living on
charity. He kissed my hands and called down unintel-
ligible blessings when I gave him five piastres, A
hard afternoon's ride brought us to our old camping-
ground, surromided by hedges of cactus, among the
gnarled old olive-trees beside the fountain of Naza^
reth.

Here we shall rest ourselves and our horses for a

62 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

clay in this old town, which with the sea of Galilee has
more attraction for me than anything else that I have
seen. Next week to Jerusalem.

I put you in two " lilies of the field " from Mt.
Carmel, and two }3urple oleander blossoms from the
" land of Gennesaret," between Magdala and Caper-
naiun.

Sunday Evening, December 17, 1865.
I have had a very pleasant, quiet Sunday here at
Nazareth. This morning I went to the Greek church
and heard their usual boisterous and disagreeable
service. The forenoon we spent in reading and rest-
ing. It was warm as summer, the tent curtains wide
open, the babble at the fountain all day. This after-
noon to the Latin church, where a very impressive
mass was performed before the altar of the Annunci-
ation. The chanting with an organ (the first I have
heard since Vienna) and boys' voices was very fine.
A strange group of Bedouins, women, children, and
all odd costumes, kneeling on the altar stairs. After
service Appleton and I took a walk into the country,
and saw what we have seen all along, the shepherds
leading (not driving) their flocks and carrying the
weak ones in their arms. All day the people have
gathered round to look at us. It is touching to hear
the poor people tell of how they suffered from the
locusts in the spring. They came in clouds, covering
the ground half a foot deep, as large as sparrows ; all
the shops and houses were closed for days. Every
green thing was eaten up. It sounded like a chapter
out of Joel. It is sad, too, to hear them talk of their
government. All spirit is gone out of them, and they
only wait the inevitable dropping to j)ieces of the rotten

JENIN. 63

tiling-, which all expect. The English missionary here
called to see us this afternoon.

Jenin, Monday Evening,

December IS, 1SG5.

To-day has been very interesting. "We were off
bright and early, and left Nazareth behind us among
its hills. Crossing a very bad, rocky ridge, we came
down into the great plain of Esdraelon and crossed its
eastern end, between Tabor and Little Hermon, where
Deborah and Barak gathered their troops before the
battle with Sisera. Keeping part way up Little Her-
mon, we came to a forlorn village. The people were
a little dirtier and more rascally looking, the hovels
a little viler, than any yet. "We rode through it up to
a large cave in the hillside, some twenty feet deep,
with a spring in it and a fig-tree beside it. The
village is Endor, and this cave is shown as the place
where the witch called up Samuel. Certainly, the
town looks as if it had had a crop of witches ever since,
and were growing another for the next generation.
We left it with the whole population crying out
for " backsheesh " and throwing stones at us. Keep-
ing along the side of Little Hermon, in about an hour
we came to Nain, another v/retched collection of some
twenty huts, where you could imagine the beautiful
scene of the miracle at the gate. Thence around the
end of Little Hermon to its southern slope, where we
came to Shunem, the scene of the pretty story of the
Shmiammite woman and Elisha. The village is a lit-
tle larger than usual, with more bad smells and dogs.
Below it, in the plain, lay the fields where the boy
went with his father to see the reapers ; and far off is
Carmel, to which the mother rode to fetch the man

64 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

o£ God. There is a reality abovit these things here
which is very enjoyable. An hour's ride, now across
the plain, brought us to the fountain of Jezreel, a
spring and great pool of water at the foot of a steep
rock. This, you know, was the scene of two great
events : first, the destruction of the Midianites by
Gideon (here is the very pool of which his soldiers
drank or lapped), and the defeat of Saul by the Philis-
tines. Here is where his army lay. The Philistines
were opposite, at Shunem. Over that ridge of Little
Hermon he went the night before the battle to con-
sidt the witch. Behind us rise the mountains of Gil-
boa, in whose high places he was killed, and down the
l)lain towards the Jordan you see the ruins of old
Beth-shan, where his body was exposed. We lunched
by the fountain, and then rode along the side of the
Gilboa range to its western slope, where is Jezreel,
the palace of Ahab, the home of Jezebel, the place
where her body was thrown out to the dogs. The
wretched creatures were prowling about there still, as
we passed through. It is a miserable village of huts
now, but you look across the plain and see where,
after the miracle on Carmel, Elijah ran before Ahab
" to the entrance of Jezreel."

From here we have been keeping all the afternoon
along the southern slope of Gilboa to this point. The
hills of Samaria have been full in view. Far off
across the plain, by Carmel, are dimly seen Taanach
and Megiddo, the towns of Deborah's song. The
white mosque of Jenin came in sight at five o'clock,
and here we are in tent again. This place is prettily
situated, but has nothing remarkable. It is the old
En-gannim of Joshua xxi. 29. The day has been
overcast, but no rain ; to-night is clear, and I am very

NABLOUS. 65

tired. Four months to-day since I landed at Queens-
town. I have not forgotten that this is George's
birthday.

Nablous (Shechem),
Tuesday Evening, December 19.

Another very interesting day. The days become
more interesting as we approach Jerusalem. We were
to go from Galilee to Judea, " and must needs pass
through Samaria." Shortly after we left Jenin, crossing
a range of hills, we saw, two miles on our left, a small
" tell " or hill which is the old Dothan, whence Joseph
went to seek his brethren, and where they sold
him to the Midianites. We rode on all the morning,
over hills and plains, the hills occasionally opening
to the east, and letting us see the plain of Sharon
and the blue sea beyond. About noon we saw be-
fore us the terraced hill of Samaria, and lunched by
and by among the olives on its northern side. It is
full of the interest of Elisha, and the old Israelite
kings, and the visit of Philip in the Acts. I read
over 2 Kings vi. and vii. on horseback. The place is
full of ruins of the old Roman time, when it was re-
built by Herod and called Sebaste. Countless col-
umns are scattered around, and some standing. The
prophecy seems strangely fulfilled. Some are rolled
down the hills, and the husbandmen were ploughing
among them, all over the old site. The present vil-
lage is miserable ; we rode into it after dinner, and
were surrounded by the jjopulation like fleas. There
is an old church of St. John in whose ruins is now a
wretched mosque. A long quarrel and fifteen piastres
"backsheesh" gained us admission, and in a little
subterranean room, whose walls were covered with
defaced crosses, they showed us what they called the

66 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

tomb of John the Baptist. It is a very old tradition.
As we rode out of town, we were chased by the chil-
dren, with much dirt on them and very little clothes,
screaming what Ibrahim told us meant " Ho, Chris-
tians ! Ho, Jews ! May the Lord leave "not a bit of
you."

The afternoon's ride was lovely. The fields dark
green with young wheat and barley, dotted with the
light gray green of the olive-trees. And here we are
now at Shechem. Before us is Mt. Ebal, behind us
is Mt. Gerizim. Here is where Jacob bought " the
parcel of ground ; " where the curses and the blessings
were pronounced from hill to hill across this ampithe-
atre, where the town lies and where the Ark stood.
Here is where Joshua collected his tribes for his last
charge, and more than all, here is where Jesus came
and lived two days after his conversation with the wo-
man at the well which we shall see to-morrow. The
city itself is large and charmingly old and quaint.
There are about fifteen hundred Samaritans left, the
only remnant of their people. We have been to see
their synagogue, a dingy little hole, where a sjjlen-
did old priest, in red turban and gray beard, showed
us their famous roll of the Pentateuch, which they
claim is thirty -two hundred years old, and written
by the son of Eleazer, son of Aaron. There is a
very fine old mosque too. As we passed through
the streets, the small boys cursed us and spit at us.
Think of that for a free American citizen to stand.
Two days more to Jerusalem. To-night we sleep
under the shadow of Gerizim. Good-night. It will
be good to get your letters by next Thursday.

Phillips.

JERUSALEM. 67

Mediterranean Hotel, Jerusalem,
Friday Morning', Decemljer 22, 1865.

I add another half sheet, just to say that we are in
Jerusalem. We arrived last night about five o'clock,
and I am writing now, before breakfast, with my
window looking- out on the Mount of Olives. I
can hardly realize that I am here. Our day's ride
yesterday was rocky and tiresome. " The hills stand
about Jerusalem " and make the approach slow. The
only especially interesting places were Bethel, a poor
little village, on a plateau surrounded by hills.
There is nothing attractive in the site, and nothing in
the town ; but every association makes it interesting.
Eamali stood up on our left, a village with an old
square tower. In the middle of the afternoon, Neby-
Samuel, the old Mizpah, where Samuel is buried, rose
high on our right, and just before we saw Jerusalem
we crossed the side of a high hill, which is the old
Gibeah of Saul.

It was about four when we rode u}) the slope of the
hill of Scopus, and got all at once the full sight of
Jerusalem. It lies nobly surrounded by its moun-
tains, and overlooked on the eastern side by the Mount
of Olives, which, though only a hill, is higher than I
thought. Between it and the city is the valley of
Jehoshaphat. We entered the city on the north by
the Damascus gate. The first sound I heard in it
was the muezzin on a minaret calling the Moslems to
prayers. The interior of the city is like all Eastern
towns, filthy, narrow, noisy, and when the novelty is
off disgusting, but I am not going to write about the
city now. I am here, and there is the Mount of
Olives right before me.

I fear a little of my first enthusiasm on arriving at

68 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

Jerusalem may have been in the prospect of a tem-
j3orary return to some of the luxuries of civilization, a
bath, a bed, and a shave. We found them all good at
this hotel, and then the letters ! No less than ten, and
a liaK dozen newsjDapers. I reveled in them all the
evening, and rejoiced to hear of you all well. They
took me back home for the night. Another glorious
day to begin to see Jerusalem. We shall have plenty
of time here, for there is no steamer for Alexandria
till January 4. And now, again, good-by, and God
bless you all always.

Jerusalem, Saturday Evening,
December 23, 1865.

Dear Father, — This comes from the Holy City.
I suj)pose you have heard by mother's letter of my
arrival here, day before yesterday. Two days have
been spent now in sight-seeing. Yesterday, the
Mount of Olives, Gethsemane, the valley of Jehosh-
aphat, and the Brook Kidron, the city walls in the
afternoon, the weekly sight of the poor Jews wailing
outside the old Temple wall. To-day, the Mosque
of Omar, the site of the great Temple, the valley of
Hinnom, the pool of Siloam, again the Mount of
Olives, the Jews' synagogue, the tombs of Zechariah,
the Virgin, St. James, and all the others, and the
church of the Holy Sepulchre, which includes within
itself the Tomb and Calvary. Are not these names
enough? We lodge here on the Via Dolorosa, near
what is said to be the top of Calvary. But, ah !
monkery has been so busy manufacturing all sorts
of holy sites that one knows not what to believe.
Calvary is at the top of a dirty paved street, in a
chapel of a gaudy church ; Gethsemane is a flower*

JERUSALEM. 69

garden with a high wall, redeemed only by eight very
old olive-trees ; oidy the great general aspect of the
whole, Mount Zion, Mount Moriali, Mount Olivet,
and the deep ravines, these are past all doubt and
full of inspiration. They have been two rich days.

Saturday, December 30, 1865.
My energetic letter-writing has paused for a week.
I take it up again to tell you of my tours around
Jerusalem. Last Sunday morning we attended
service in the English church, and after an early
dinner took our horses and rode to Bethlehem. It
was only about two hours when we came to the town,
situated on an eastern ridge of a range of hills,
surrounded by its terraced gardens. It is a good-
looking town, better built than any other we have
seen in Palestine. The great church of the Nativity
is its most prominent object ; it is shared by the
Greeks, Latins, and Armenians, and each church has
a convent attached to it. We were hospitably
received in the Greek convent, and furnished with
a room. Before dark, we rode out of town to the
field where they say the shepherds saw the star. It
is a fenced piece of ground with a cave in it (all the
Holy Places are caves here), in which, strangely
enough, they put the shepherds. The story is absurd,
but somewhere in those fields we rode through the
shepherds must have been, and in the same fields
the story of Ruth and Boaz must belong. As we
passed, the shepherds were still " keeping watch over
their flocks," or leading them home to fold. We re-
turned to the convent and waited for the service,
which beo-an about ten o'clock and lasted until
three (Christmas). It was the old story of a Romish

70 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

service, wdtli all its mimimeiy, and tired us out.
They wound up with a wax baby, carried in proces-
sion, and at last laid in the traditional manger, in a
grotto under the church. The most interesting part
was the crowd of pilgrims, with their sunple faith
and eao-erness to share in the ceremonial. We went
to bed very tired.

Christinas morning, we rode up to town and
went to service. It rainted all that day, and we
stayed in the house. The next morning we were off
for our trip to the Jordan. Passing out of St. Ste-
phen's Gate, we rode past Gethsemane, and around
the southern slope of the Mount of Olives, the same
road by which Chi'ist made his triimiphal entry from
Bethany. The point at which He must have first
come in view of the citj% with the midtitude throw-
ing the branches imder His feet, is very clearly seen,
and very interesting. Passing round the liill, in
about an hoiu* we came to a little village hid away
in a fold of the valley, as quiet and out of the way a
place as one can imagine. This is Bethany ; a poor
little toAATi now. They show still the tomb of Laza-
rus,— a cave, deep and dark and tomb-like. All
the afternoon we rode on over the hills. This is
a dangerous region, and we had a gxiard wdth us, a
sheik, and three soldiers from the government of
Jerusalem. However, we saw no robbers ; j^lenty
of Bedouins, but very harmless. Towards night we
came out into the gTeat plain of Jordan, wide, green,
and beautiful. We crossed the " Brook Cherith " of
Elijah and the ravens, and went to the site of old
Jericho, where is the fountain wliich Elisha changed
from bitter to sweet. Then across the plain to the
site of the later Jericho, which Clmst entered. This

JERUSALEM. 71

is the old Gilgal. They showed us the house of
Zaceheus. We camped here, and after dinner the
Bedouin women came and danced their wikl dances
and sang their wild songs and got their backsheesh.
Next morning, we rode down the plain to the river,
the Jordan ! We came to it just " over against
Jericho," where the Israelites may have crossed, and
just where tradition says that John preached and
Jesus was baptized. The stream was swift and tur-
bid; about as wide as the Shawsheen where you
cross it going from Mr. Tompkins's to grandmother's.
We saw the place where the hosts of pilgTims came
to bathe at the Passover.

From the Jordan we rode an hour and a half
to the Dead Sea, and stood on its desolate, dreary
shore, and tasted its dreadful water. The view
was wild and melancholy, and still aj)peared fidl of
the story of the old catastrophe. In the after-
noon, we rode across the hills toward the Greek con-
vent of Mar Saba. The views were splendid. We
were in the wilderness of Judea. On our left was
the Desert of Engedi, where David fled from Saul.
A terrible hail and sleet storm came up and wet
us through, and we were glad enough, passing
along a splendid ravine, through which the Kidron
flows, to find a picturesque old Greek convent, where
sixty monks live their miserable, useless life. They
were usefid for once, however, for they took us in
and made us comfortable for the night. I wish you
could have seen us among the brethren, disturbing
their quiet life with the many wants of tired, wet,
and hungry men. The convent was built about the
grotto of an old hermit years ago, and is surrounded
by the deserted caves where hundreds of hermits used

72 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

to live. Thursday morning, we said good-by to the
monks and left them working in their garden, and
took up our way toward Hebron. We had to go
first to Betlilehem again. We passed a very striking
encampment of Bedouins, with their black goat's-hair
tents in the valley, and riding through the fields of
the shepherds and Ruth, came into the little town.
The people, who are very handsome, gathered about
us to sell relics. I saw some very beautiful faces in
the cliurch among the women, on the night of the
service ; they wear a pecidiar red robe, and in general
seem decidedly superior to the ordinary inhabitants
of the country. We went into the church again
and saw it more thoroughly. The place of the Na-
tivity is in a little grotto like the one at Nazareth.
The manger is in an altar opposite. The grottos of
St. Jerome and his fellow-anchorites, SS. Eustasia
and Paula, are close by. Each of the three convents
has a passage-way down to the altar of the Nativity.
We rode on from Bethlehem along an old aqueduct,
which leads by a beautiful gTcen valley, in which
Solomon had his gardens and country houses, to the
" pools of Solomon," three immense reservoirs, built
to supply Jerusalem with water, but now long out
of repair and use. He says in Ecclesiastes that he
made liim " pools of water." From here to Hebron,
the oldest city in Palestine, the home of Abraham
and the kings, which lies in a broad valley five hours
from the pools. What a ride we had to get there.
It rained, and rained, and rained. The rocks were
slippery, it grew dark, the horses were tired out, and
glad enough we were to get to the town and find a
little room in a Jew's house (there are no Christians,
only Jews and Moslems in the place), and try to get
dry and get through the night.

JERUSALEM. 73

The next morning, the storm was jnst as bad, or
worse, but we started. There is not much to see in
Hebron except the place itself, and that we could
not see. The cave of Machpelah is in a mosque,
where they don't admit Christians, so we looked
at the outside. Then we rode by a splendid great
oak at Mamre, which they call the oak of Abraham.
This is the valley of Eshcol. And then, in rain
and cold and discomfort, we struggled back to Jeru-
salem, lunched at the pools with some Nubian sol-
diers, who are there as guard, passed by the tomb of
Rachel, just outside Bethlehem, and reached our hotel
at five o'clock, glad enough to be here. This is the
sketch of our trip, which we enjoyed in spite of its
discomforts. It is about our last. Next Tuesday, we
shall leave for Jaffa, to catch the steamer of the 4th
for Alexandria.

And now, what about Jerusalem? I believe I
know it thoroughly. I have seen all its sights,
have walked about it, and marked the towers thereof,
till I understand its shape and spirit pretty well. It
is not large, but it is crowded full of interest.
Everywhere you get striking views, — Olivet, with the
little moscpie on its top, the great mosque on Moriah,
David's tomb on Mount Zion, the Holy Sepulchre,
with its broken dome, on Calvary. You cannot get
away from some of them. Do you know that they
have the Holy Sepulchre and Calvary all in one
church ? You go up a flight of a dozen stairs from
one to the other. But I must not attempt to describe
Jerusalem. I will tell you all about it when I get
home. Our consul here and Bishop Gobat of the
English church have been attentive. It is sad to see
how Moslem power rules here. The very keys of the
Holy Sepulchre are kept by the Mohammedans.

74 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

I needn't say I was deliglited to get letters here,
and hear that you are all well. I have read them
over and over, and now am looking for more at
Alexandria, where we hope to arrive on Saturday
next. The least items from home, you know, are
interesting to us away off here. Tell mother her
letters are most welcome. To-morrow is New Year's
Day. A happy New Year to all of you ! Good-by,
God bless you all.

Jerusalem, Monday, January 1, 1866.

I must wish you all a happy New Year. It is a
good way off, but I am sure you all know that I am
doing it this morning, and I can almost hear you
wishing it back to me. May it be a happy year to all
of us. Before it is over, God grant we may be
together again safe. Two more days in Jerusalem !
Saturday, I went out to see the old cave tombs, which
are all about the city, the tombs of the Judges and
those of the Kings. Yesterday, I went to the
English church in the morning, and heard Bishop
Gobat. In the afternoon, a lovely bright sunny day,
I walked out to Bethany and back ; over the summit
of Mt. Olivet, the way that David went when he fled
from Absalom, back around the southern ridge of the
hill where Christ came in on his trimuphal entry. It
was a delightfid walk.

Appleton received a bundle of Boston Advertisers
yesterday afternoon, which were very refreshing.
They told us all about the elections, etc.

Tell mother I put in this letter for her the head of
a reed which was " shaken by the wind " on the brink
of the Jordan, and two flowers which I picked in
Gethsemane.

JAFFA. 76

Jaffa, Wednesday Evening, January 3, 1860.
So far westward. Yesterday morning we left
Jerusalem, seeing" our last where we saw our first of
it, from Mt. Scopus. Then we rode to the hill of
Nehi-Samwil, the ancient Mizpah, where Samuel is
buried. There is a splendid view from the top ; an
old minaret crowns it. Down thence through Gibeon
and Beth-horon and the valley of Ajalon, where
Joshua's great battle came to pass, and the sun and
moon stood still. The ride was over hill and valley,
very interesting. Late in the afternoon, we came
down into the great coast plain of Philistia, and
passed through Lud, the Lydda of the Acts, an old
town with the remains of a fine church. Another
half hour brought us to Ramleh, where we camped
last night. It is a place famous in Crusaders' history.
From there, a three-hours' ride brought us here to-day,
with no accidents, except my horse's tumbling into
a ditch and muddying me from top to toe. Jaffa is
the old Joppa, and we went to see the house of Simon
the tanner, "by the seaside," where Peter lodged. It
is a pretty likely-looking sort of place for a tanner.
Mr. Kayat, the British consul, came to see us this
afternoon ; we went to see his orange gardens, and ate
lots of the ripe fruit off the trees. We are lodged In
the Russian convent. Was n't it funny to find our
chairs here in our room, rocking-chairs and all, marked
" M. L. Gates, 66 Commercial Street, Boston ?" So our
Syria is over, and if the steamer is up to time
to-morrow, we are off to Alexandria.

Jaffa, Wednesday, January 10, 1866.
Here we are still, after a week of dreary waiting
and discontent. The day after we arrived, a storm

76 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

came up and has lasted until to-day, with strong west
wind. Not one of the three steamers that ought to
have touched here has arrived, and we have no news
of either of them. Even if they had come, we coidd
not have got aboard, for the harbor is rough and the
sea rims very high. We have lost a week in waiting.
We have had all sorts of plans : sometimes, to go by
land up to Beyrout, and try to get aboard there;
sometimes, to take camels and go across the desert
direct to Cairo, but the torrents of rain have hindered
our moving. We could not travel now without get-
ting swept away with the full streams, so we must
wait and wait. To-day is bright and pleasant, but
the high wind still blows on shore and no news of
the steamer.

Steajhek Egtpto, between Jaffa and Alexandria,
Sunday, January 14, 1866.

We are off at last. Yesterday morning, there
came along an Austrian steamer bound for Alex-
andria, and as the wind and sea had moderated, we
w^ent aboard her and shall be in Alexandria to-night.
We have had a very pleasant and smooth passage so
far, and are glad to be out of Jaffa, which has nothing
to boast of but its oranges. They are sjjlendid, and
did n't I eat them !

Steamer M(eris, January 23, 1866.

Dear William, — This is one of the times for let-
ter-writing. I am on a four days' voyage from Alex-
andria to Messina. The first two days the sea was
terribly rough, and this French boat, being a screw
steamer, rocked horridly, so that it was out of the

EGYPT. 77

question to think of writing-, or anything else, except
hokling on and not getting washed overboard, or
jjitched downstairs. They were days when, in the
elegant and expressive language of Artemus Ward,
it was hard for the passengers " to keep inside their
berths or outside their dinners." Still it was the first
very bad sea I have had anywhere, and I must not
complain. To-day is calm and still, and we are
getting on fast towards Sicily.

On arriving at Alexandria, after our long imprison-
ment at Jaffa, I found a host of letters, and received
some more the day I left. You may guess they were
welcome. The latest was yours of Christmas Day,
and none better deserves an answer. I will tell you
in a few minutes about what I saw in EgyjDt. My
stay in Egypt was short. Alexandria was the mean-
est place I have seen yet. Enterprising, busy, but
perfectly unattractive. Too Western to be good
Eastern, and too Eastern to be good Western ; too old
to be good new, and too new to be good old. A bad
mixture. Cleopatra's Needle is an obelisk in a cow-
yard. Pompey's Pillar is an old column on a hill
overlooking lake Mareotis. It has nothing in the
world to do with Pompey, and is principally interest-
ing from some American sailors flying a kite over it
once, as recorded in the pages of the American First
Class Book. But if Alexandria is detestable, Cairo
is delightfid. I could write pages, yea, a book, about
the dear old place, with its bazaars, mosques, gardens,
palm forests, palaces, donkeys and donkey-boys, its
great old river, and its Pyramids. But I won't. Let
it be enough that one morning I straddled a diminu-
tive long-eared creature, about as big as the family
rocking-horse, with a brown, bare-legged boy running

78 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

behind, poking the donkey and. screaming at him all
the way ; I rode through Cairo, was ferried over the
dreamy old Nile, and then rode across its gorgeous
green valley, climbed to the top of the Pyramid of
Cheops, and looked out on the Desert. The nsnal army
of wild Arabs dragged me to the top. The ascent is
not hard, but they insist on giving you their hand
and pulling you up from step to step. The easiest
way is to let them do it. All the while they chant
a wild stave in the Hiawatha measure, something like

Good Howadji ! Great Howadji !

Strong Howadji ! Lots of money !

Give us Backsheesh ! Plenty Backsheesh !

When you get to the top, you do give them as much
backsheesh as will stop their tongues and let you enjoy
one of the stranoest and most memorable views that
the world has to show. I sha'n't attempt to describe
it. One must get on the top of that Pyramid before
he can know anything about it. When I got down,
I went and stood in the shadow of the Sphinx, and
looked up into her vast stone face. If the Pyramids
are great in their way, she is a thousand times greater
in hers, as the grandest and most expressive monu-
ment of a religion in the world. But I am writing
a letter about Egyj)t, and I did n't intend to. The
mosques of Cairo are very attractive, vaster and
more gorgeous than any elsewhere, and containing
some of the most interesting specimens of old Arab
architecture, in which are the germs of a good deal of
modern EurojDean. Then we went out to visit the
viceroy's gardens and palace, and saw something of
Egyptian luxury. It was a place that Anthony and
Cleopatra might have reveled in. While we were in
Cairo, the season of Ramazan, the Mohammedan Lent,

MESSINA. 79

began. They fast all the daytime, and cany on all
night. Their worst privation is from tobacco. It is
terrible to go throngh the bazaars and see the poor
old fellows looking so melancholy and cross, holding
their pipes all ready filled, awaiting sunset to light up.
The nights of Ramazan are gorgeous with lights and
feasting. But I positively won't say anything more
about Egypt.

Hotel Trinaceia, Messina,
Tuesday Evening', January 23.

My letter was cut short this morning by finding
how near we were to our port. I went up on deck,
and there was the coast of Italy, the sole of the
" boot " on one side, and Mt. Etna, with its great
white sides and little spire of smoke, upon the other.
About one o'clock we arrived here. I had some
hopes, in coming here, of meeting the boat for Greece,
and making my visit there now. But she passed us
going out, about three hours before we came into the
harbor. There was no connection from Alexandria to
Greece for ten days, so I did not wait there. I shall
go to Naples to-morrow, and next week to Eome, where
I shall stay till after Carnival, then make a trip to
Greece and be back by Holy Week. I am alone again.
Dr. Leeds stayed in Egypt, and Mr. Appleton has
gone on to Paris. He will probably join me to
Greece. My whole scene has changed. Italy is all
aromid me. This is a delightful old town, with a
quaint old cathedral and square, and pictures of Ital-
ian life at every step. I am depending, with aU my
heart, on Naples and Rome.

Tell Mr. John that I expect him to appreciate my
brotherly attention in going to the Egyptian post-
of&ce, in Cairo, and at an expense of much gesticu-

80 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

lation buying a full set of the new Egyptian postage
stamps, which I am told are rare in America. I
think they deserve a letter at least. I was glad to hear
how Christmas passed with you. Before this you have
heard how I passed mine. I saw lots of " Little Wan-
derers " in Syria and Egypt, and now Italy seems as
full of them as either.

On boakd Steamer II Coukier di Sicilia,
Wednesday p. m., January 24.

I have been all the morning seeing Messina. It is
a delightfidly Italian town, lying along the shore,
backed by a wilderness of green hills. They have a
lovely old cathedral, full of elaborate carvings and
mosaics, and the views everywhere of the straits
and the hazy Italian shore opposite are beautiful.
The great show of the town I have missed. It is an
autograph letter which the Virgin Mary sent them
once, with a lock of her hair. She is their special
patroness. The priest who had the key of the cathe-
dral was out, so I could not see it. Now we are on
our way to Naples, just passing between Scylla and
Charybdis. We are going through the old peril safely,
I think. This little steamer was built at Glasgow
in Scotland. We are leaving Sicily and Messina be-
hind us. Messina, you know, is the town of " Much
Ado about Nothing." There Benedict and Beatrice
courted, and walking ovit last evening I saw honest
Dogberry " comprehend a vagrom man " in the
streets.

Hotel Vittoria, Naples,
Sunday, January 28.

Three days, now, in this most beautiful spot on
earth. No one can wonder at people's enthusiasm about

NAPLES. 81

Naples. I have seen some things in my travels which
were not up to the mark, but of the beauty of Naples
and its bay, the half has not been told, simply because
it can't be. As I look out of my window now, I can
see the blue bay, with Capri lying off in front, the
promontory of Baiae, and Puteoli stretching its arm
aromid it, the green hills covered with olive groves
and vineyards shutting in the land side, and the bright
gardens of the Villa Reale, with their fomitains, stat-
ues, and gay promenaders, lying in the foreground ;
the whole in a climate such as we have in our best
June days, and an atmosphere such as we never have.
I have seen something about Naj^les. One day to
Puteoli, where is a very perfect old amphitheatre,
and where Paul landed to go up to Home ; to Baiae
and Cmnse, Virgil's Elysian Fields, Lake Avernus
and Sibyl's Cave, up as far as Cape Misenum. An-
other day down the coast to Salerno, thence to Paestum,
where are the most perfectly preserved Greek temples
in the world. That is one of the greatest things to
see in Italy. The road there is very beautiful, a little
given to banditti, so that we had to take a guard of
soldiers. We had no adventure, and got home safe.
The two greatest wonders of Naples I have yet to see,
Pompeii and Vesuvius. The mountain, which is not
vast or grand, but simply beautiful, overlooks you
everywhere you go, but I have not yet seen even a
whiff of smoke out of his great pipe. Etna is a much
more splendid mountain, and so is Stromboli, which we
passed the other day coming up from Messina. You
see Italy is beginning with even more fascination than
anything yet, and my next three months are going to
be very full. I am afraid my letters will not be quite
so long now. I shall have no more sea voyages to

82 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

write in, and shall have employments for my evenings
out o£ doors. I Avill try my best, and you must allow
I have done splendidly for the last three months.
For the present, this is all. I am very well, and in
fii'st-rate condition every way. Shall probably go up
to Rome next Saturday. I hope to get some more let-
ters there. Good-by ; give love to all, and don't for-
get your affectionate brother, who expects to get home
in September. Phillips.

Rome, Sunday, February 4, 1866.

Dear Mother, — In Rome at last, at the place of
all others in Europe that I have most wished to reach.
I got here last night about seven o'clock, and this
mornino- before breakfast went down the Corso to the
Capitol, and through the Forum to the Coliseiun. It
is exactly as I have always pictured it, only a great
deal more interesting. This is really all I have seen
of the city yet. I went to service at the American
embassy this morning, and found the place crowded
with Americans, lots of people that I laiew.

Since my letter went to William I have been having
a great time in Naples, seeing everything in that most
beautif id of cities. One long day I spent at Pompeii,
which is most w^onderful, with its old streets and
houses, uncovered just as they were left the day that
the great eruption came and buried them. Then I
went up Vesuvius, and saw where the eruption came
from, ventured down into the crater, which is very
grand, and stood on the hot ground, where another
eruption is cooking, to burst out by and by. Another
day I went down to Sorrento along the shores of the
bay, spent a night there, and then crossed over to
Capri, the beautiful island where the old Roman em-

ROME. 83

perors liacl their palaces and lived their horrible lives.
I spent a day at the great museum of Naples, where
all the statues and other antiquities from Pompeii and
Hercidaneum, and the other ruins in that neighbor-
hood, have been collected into the most enormous
repository in the world. It is very rich and very beau-
tiful. On the whole, Naples has delighted me, and
I put it along with Edinburgh, Constantinople, and
Damascus as one of the four great cities of the world
in beauty. There is a railway from there here, taking
about seven hours.

Thursday Evening, February 8.

I have been very busy all the week, and now am so
sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open, but I will send
this off to let you know that I am well and enjoying
every moment. Rome is so much greater and fuller
than I had ever dreamed of. I have seen a great deal,
but when I think what there is right about me, it
seems as if I had seen nothing ; I have wandered all
through St. Peter's, spent a long day in the wilderness
of the Vatican, another in the great museums of the
Capitol, and followed the banks of the Tiber, skirted
with ruins of the old temples, palaces, and theatres of
this wonderful race, roamed through some of the pic-
ture galleries of the great palaces, found my way into
a few of the numberless gorgeous churches, and to-day
have been from one to another of the studios of our
own living artists. All this has swallowed up many
hours.

Then the Carnival is in fidl rage, and every after-
noon it is hard to keej) away from the Corso, where
every old gray palace is hung with bright red, and the
balconies are filled with gay people full of fun, pelting
with flowers, sugar-plums, and confetti the queerest-

84 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

looking crowd, in every sort of wild harlequin dis-
guises, that is running riot in the street below them.
Really, while I am in Rome you must not look for any
more long letters of the Syria sort. I will tell you
about it some day. The city is full, too, of Americans,
and lots of people that I know are here. I have made
some very pleasant acquaintances among the Ameri-
cans who are living here, and who know Rome well.
The state of the country is terrible, and the poor
Pope is in a most miserable position. I saw his Holi-
ness the other day, driving in splendid state, but had
no good look at him through the carriage windows.
The swarm of priests and monks of many sorts in the
streets is horrible. I have n't heard from you since I
left Alexandria. I hope to get letters to-day.

Friday, Febraary 9, 1866.

No letters to-day. What has become of you all ?
Well, this must go. It is a poor letter to send from
the Eternal City, but it is so hopeless in a place like
this to try to tell you what one sees. One does n't
know where to begin. To-day, for instance, I spent
the morning in two of the great picture galleries, in
the Borghese and Corsini palaces, then two or three
hours in the sculptors' studios, among others Rogers's,
who has by far the best bust of Mr. Lincoln that has
yet been made ; and the afternoon among the ruins,
which are exhaustless. So make allowance for short-
comings and forgive me. This will do at any rate to
tell you that I am splendidly well and happy, and love
you all as much as ever. I wish you could see, feel,
and taste tliis glorious soft Italian weather. Good-by.
God bless you all. Six months more and I shall be
almost home. Your loving son,

Phillips.

HOME. 85

Rome, February 19, 1866.

To the Sunday-Schools of the Church of the Holy Trinity
and Chapel, Philadelphia :

My dear Children, — When I think how near
Easter is coming, I think also how pleasant it wonkl
be if I conld spend that day at home in Philadelphia ;
and particularly, I wish I could be with you in the
Sunday-school and at your Easter service. As I have
no chance of that, I want to write a few words which
I hope Mr. Coffin will find time to read to you some
time in the course of the day, as my Easter greeting.
For of all my friends in America there are none by
whom I should be more sorry to be forgotten, or whom
I should be more sorry to forget, than the circle
who make up our schools and classes. I do not mind
telling you (though of course I should not like to have
you speak of it to any of the older people of the
church) that I am much afraid the yoiuiger part of
my congregation has more than its share of my
thoughts and interest. I cannot tell you how many
Sunday mornings since I left you I have seemed to
stand in the midst of our crowded schoolroom again,
and look about and know every face and every class
just as I used to ; nor how many times I have heard
one of our home hymns ringing very strangely and
sweetly through the different music of some far-off
country. I remember especially on Christmas Eve,
when I was standing in the old church at Bethlehem,
close to the spot where Jesus was born, when the
whole church was ringing hour after hour with the
splendid hymns of praise to God, how again and
again it seemed as if I could hear voices that I knew
well, telling each other of the "Wonderful Night"
of the Saviour's birth, as I had heard them a year

86 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

before ; and I assure you I was glad to shut my ears
for a while and listen to the more familiar strains
that came wandering to me haKway round the world.
But I meant to write you an Easter letter, and to
give you an Easter greeting. As I have gone to Pal-
estine once in this letter already, let me take you
there again. In the Holy City of Jerusalem, you
know. Christians built ever so many years ago a
noble church directly over the place where it is be-
lieved Jesus was buried, and right under the dome of
this grand old church, they have built up a little tem-
ple of marble which incloses what is believed to be
the real tomb where the Saviour lay — and this, of
course, is a very holy place ; and when I was in Jeru-
salem I used to go and stand by the side of that cold
stone and watch the endless stream of worshipers
that came up there to pray. They were pilgrims from
every quarter of the globe ; in all kinds of dress,
with all kinds of faces, and all shades of color. First
an old man that seemed to have used ahnost the last
strength that was in him to crawl from his far-off
house in frozen Russia to see the Holy Sepulclu-e
before he died ; then a young girl with her face full
of enthusiasm, who had apparently given all her youth-
fid strength away and came pale and weary, but full
of joy, to the place that she had longed for by day and
dreamed about by night ; then a mother would come
with her child and press its little lips against the cold
marble, while the baby would shrink back and look
up in her face as if he wondered what it meant. It
was a very touching sight to me. They crept on their
knees through the little low doorway into the tomb,
that is always lighted with countless lamps of gold and
silver ; and as if there were no way strong enough for

ROME. 87

them to express the feeling" that had brought them so
far to see this holiest of all places, they east them-
selves upon the stone and covered it with kisses, and
cried as if their hearts would break for joy. It was a
strange and very touching sight. But when I recall
it now in connection with Easter Day, the one thing I
think of most is the emptiness of that tomb in Jerusa-
lem, and the ways we have of doing honor to Jesus
which are so much better than making pilgrimages to
the place where he was once buried. You remember
what the angel said to the disciples on the first Easter
morning, when they made their pilgrimage to tlie
Holy Sepulchre : " Why seek ye the living among
the dead ? He is not here. He is risen." It seems
as if one heard those words all the time he is walking
about in Jerusalem. Let us, my dear children, rejoice
together on Easter Day in the great Easter truth that
Jesus our Saviour is to be found and worshiped,
not in any cold tomb, but in any heart, no matter
how young and humble, that is warm with his love,
and bright with the constant cheerful effort to do
whatever duty He desires. That is the happy temple
in which He loves to live, and I hope every one of us,
this happy Easter Day, will find this Saviour very
near to us, risen from his tomb and come to live
with us, and help us, and be our friend and brother, in
every joy and sorrow of our lives. That is the Easter
prayer which I pray with all my heart for each
one of you.

I must not write only to the members of our schools
and classes at the church and at the chapel. I must
not and do not forget the teachers, who are laboring
on in their good work. My dear friends, let me bid
you Godspeed out of a heart full of sympathy with

88 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

you and with your work. May your Easter be a flay
of renewed courage, and hopefulness, and love. May
God help you in your happy work, now and always.
It will be a happy day for me when I stand once
more among you to be your fellow-worker.

I suppose we shall none of us meet this Easter
without thinking of the last. What a sad day it was !
You remember we had to take all our flowers down
and hang the church in black, and our celebration,
with its cheerful carols, was given up, for it was just
then that we heard the terrible news of our good
President's murder. We shall never, any of us,
forget that day. Every Easter will always bring it
back. And especially this year, I am sure, none
of us will keep the holy day without thanking God
that the cause which our President died for has been
so victorious, that peace has come back to us, that the
great rebellion has been defeated, and that men and
women can no more be slaves in America forever.
We must be very thankful for these things, and pray
God earnestly to keep our dear country always from
these two great sins of rebellion against the govern-
ment and oppression of any of its people.

But my letter, which meant to be very short, has
forgotten itself, and wandered along over all these
pages. There is much more that I want to say, but I
must wait till I get home, and can say it myself.
That will be, I hope, very early in the fall. I shall
spend my Easter here in Rome, after making a short
journey first to Greece. I wish I could paint for you
in words the beauty of the springtime in this delightful
climate, which is already blossoming into summer,
while America is still shivering with the cold of its
severe winter.

ROME. 89

And now, my dear friends, good-by, and may God our
Father bless and keep us all. If He spares us to meet
again, I think we shall all try to work harder than ever
to serve and please Him. Let us pray for one another
that we may be kept from every danger and every sin.
I let my mind run along our schoolrooms, and as I
see you there I ask a blessing for each of you. May
our Lord Jesus Christ, who rose on Easter Day, rise
anew on this Easter in all your hearts, and be a living
Saviour, a friend, a brother, a helper, and a comforter
to you all, all the days of your lives. May He live
with us until, when we have done our work. He takes
us to live with Him forever. Always, my dear chil-
dren,

Your affectionate friend and rector,

Phillips Brooks.

Rome, Tuesday, February 20, 1866.

Dear Father, — I wonder what is the matter.
Since I left Alexandria, a month ago yesterday, I have
not had a single letter from America. The mails keep
coming, and everybody else gets lots, but there is
nothing for me. I have put off writing from day to
day, because it is rather pleasanter to write when one
has a letter to answer, but there seems to be no use in
waiting any longer. I am afraid my letters must
have been sent by mistake to Alexandria, and it will
be some time yet before I get them.

I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed these
two weeks in liome. Every moment of them has been
busy, and I know the old city pretty well. I have ex-
plored it from end to end, above ground and under
ground, the churches, ruins, picture galleries, the Vati-
can, the Campagua, everything. The first week of

90 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

my stay here was tlie Carnival, and tlie town was
crowded with strangers. Since Lent began they have
largely gone off to Naples, and left a little room, so
that one can climb up to the Colisemn, or go through
a picture gallery, without being in a jam of folks so
great as to take away half the pleasure of the thing.

I am going off this week for a while. I start on
Friday for Naples and Messina, whence I shall sail
next Tuesday for Athens ; and after spending eight
days there shall return to Rome, getting back here
about the 13th of March. Then I shall have two or
three weeks here before Easter, immediately after
which I shall leave for a month in northern Italy, and
go to Paris about the first of May. I am depending
much on seeing Greece, though I am afraid I can visit
little besides Athens, for the country seems to be in
such a state now with the brigands that it is not safe to
go far away from the town. I am to meet Mr. Apple-
ton in Naples, and he will go with me.

I have met a great many people here whom I know.
Two or three families of parishioners from Philadel-
phia, a great many Boston people, and many whom I
have come across in traveling. Almost everybody
who is traveling in Europe comes to Rome in the
spring. There are also a great many very pleasant
American families living here permanently. I have
seen a great deal of the Storys, and like them exceed-
ingly. Yesterday I spent with them, in an out of
town excursion to one of the old villas, which was as
beautiful as antiquity and springtime could make it.
We had a capital time. Miss Shaw, sister of Colonel
Shaw of Fort Wagner, is staying with the Storys,
and is very charming. They have pleasant receptions,
where one meets the nicest people in Rome, particu-

ROME. 91

lavly tlie artists. Story is at work on a colossal
Everett for the city of Boston. Edward does n't look
very imposing- jnst now, for lie has only got one
tronser on, and is very mnch in the condition of
"Diddle, diddle, dnmpling, my son John." It is
going to be a fine thing. Mr. Story has also a fine
statue of Colonel Shaw, and Rogers has a capital bust
of Lincoln. I dined the other day with Mr. Hooker.
Charles Adams and his wife have just arrived, and
other people keep turning up. Next Friday, the
22d, there is to be a meeting of the Americans here,
with a breakfast. I believe I am committed for
a little speech. Won't it be funny to make a Hail
Columbia address in Rome? There are lots of cop-
perheads here, and there will be much pleasure in
saying a few words to them. The Rev. Charles
T. Brooks is here, and is to read a poem.

Tuesday Evening, February 20.

At last I have heard a little from you to-day. I
have yours and mother's of January 2, and William's
of January 8. You may be sure they are very
welcome. They have been to Alexandria and back.
I am glad to hear you are all well, and I thank you
for your New Year's wishes. How I wish you could
see and feel the spring here ! It is delicious, and
every day now adds to its beauty. What a winter
you have had at home ! I feel as if I had skipped win-
ter altogether. I have not set foot in snow once ;
but I must stop. I want to put a choice collection of
stamps for Mr. John into my letter. I am very well,
and shall be glad when I see you aU again. Good-by,
love to all.

Phillips.

92 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

Messina, Monday, February 26, 1866.

Now, my dear James,^ we will have that little talk
which we have been meaning to have so long. It is a
whole month, I believe, since I received your letter.
Why have n't I answered it? Simply because, my
dear boy, I have been in Rome, and who can wiite
letters there ? I have had to be content with know-
ing that I was thinking about you, and that you
knew I was thinking about you, and promising my-
self to write as soon as I got to some less absorbing
place. So here I am, waiting for the steamer that is
coming to take me to Athens. I have leaned out of
my window in this Hotel Trinacria, and looked away
up the straits towards Scylla and Charybdis, and there
is no sign that she is coming yet ; so I am sure of time
for a good long talk with you. It was good to read
your letter, and to hear for the first time your talks
as a theological student. It was so far an accom-
plishment of the purposes and hopes of these last two
years : it is an assurance of so much done, and so is
a pleasant starting-point for the next stage. It is n't
easy to run, for Hebrew Dictionaiy and Jahns and
Homes are not light loads to carry; but the very
getting at it is a sort of inspiration, and I am sure
the same Help that has brought you up to it will
carry you bravely through. God bless you in it.

That is all I am going to say about your studies. I
say it with all my heart, you know. I am not going
to write you "a page about homiletics" or anything
of the sort. I am too desirous to have my letters
read for that. If you want suggestions in detail,
have n't you got Fred, and can't he give them to you
a great deal better than I can, way off here? I am
^ Rev. James P. Franks.

MESSINA. 93

sure you are not going to disappoint any of us, but
more than fulfill all that we hope of you.

How have you and that same Fred got along this
Avinter? From what I hear of the bitter cold, j^ou
must have been very affectionate to keep each other
warm. How different our winters have been. Mine
has been full of fruit trees in full fruit, and hot,
sunny days ; while yours has had skates, snow-storms,
and all that. Yours is a great deal the best for a
steady thing, but mine has been a very enjoyable
luxury for this once. My last three weeks have been
completely given up to Rome. Did I ever tell you
that it was the one place in Europe that I was most
anxious to see perfectly and know through and
through? I believe I do know it well, and I shall
have three weeks more to revel in it, when I get back
from Greece. Do you remember the photograph of
the old city that hung over my bookcase in Bpruce
Street ? How many times I have studied and tried to
understand it. Now ask me any house in it and see
if I do not tell you. From the first walk down to
the Coliseum before brealtfast, the morning after I
arrived, down to my last view of the crippled old
aqueduct striding across the Campagna as I rode
out to Naples, it was an unceasing and infuiite delight.
There are a great many pleasant people there, too,
some of whom I knew at home, and many whom I
learned to know well there. We had a very patriotic
time on the 22d of February, and stirred up the dusty
old air with national melodies of which the Caesars
never heard, and talked about loyalty and liberty,
which they would not have appreciated if they had.
Then there was Naples, just as bright, sunny, and gay
as Rome is grim. The one is always solemn and

94 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

stately, even when it is dressed in carnival scarlet.
The other is always on the broad grin, and dancing
like a faun. They are both perfect in their ways.
And now I am going to see what Athens is like, and
tlien come Florence, Venice, Genoa, Paris, and the
biggest and best day of all, when I see Boston again,
which is worth the whole lot of them together, and is
the best place on the world's face to live in. So say
we all of us, don't we ?

Everytliing is going well, and it is pure good nature
in the people to be kind enough to miss me when they
fare so well in my absence. All this is a great relief
to my mind, and lets me go on without an anxiety,
adding pleasure to pleasure while my year lasts.
Some time in October will see me back, if I am
spared. To think that before I come Fred will have
been ordained and will be at his work ! Where will
it be ? I should so like to have had a glimpse of you
together in your household life this winter. How
much you must have enjoyed it, and how much you
both owe to me for making you know one another !

Give my kindest regards to your mother and sister,
and to my other friends in Philadelj)hia. As to old
Fred, tell him I love him still, and ask him to write
oftener, and I will pay him when he goes to Europe.

And now, my dear boy, good-by and God bless you.
I think of you lots ; you may make ever so many
friends without having one that will like you better,
or wish you every blessing more fervently than your
old friend, P. B.

STEAMER GOD A VERY. 95

STEA.MER GODAVEKY, BETWEEN MesSINA AND AxHENS,

Tuesday, February 27, 1866.

Dear William, — Here I am on the Mediter-
ranean again. Coming down from Eome to Athens,
I crossed by steamer to Messina, and last night our
old friend the Godavery, in which three months ago
we sailed from Smyrna to Beyrout, took us up and is
carrying us fast towards Athens. Appleton came
from Paris, and joined me at Naples. We shall Le
there probably early on Thursday morning. It seems
like getting back to last winter's experiences. The
boat is full of Greeks, French, Germans, and what
not. The familiar cabins recall the days when
we were getting ready to plunge into Syria, wondering
what kind of a time we should have there. The Med-
iterranean is as beautiful as ever. To-day is a soft,
clear, warm, blue day, when one just likes to sit on
deck and think what a lovely thing the sea is. Indeed,
I have found this treacherous sea all winter one of the
gentlest, most gracious, and best behaved of creatures.

This sea life of a day or two is quite a rest after
Eome with its intense and constant interest. I cannot
tell you how I enjoyed that city. I had hoped much
from it, but my enjoyment far surpassed all my antici-
pations. It has more than any other city of those
things which, once seen, become pictures to you for-
ever. St. Peter's so vast and so beautiful, the Vatican
with its labyrinth of art, the Coliseum and the Forum
with the beauty of their ruin, — one doesn't know
where to begin to think about what there is in Eome.
I paid your old High School eloquence the tribute of
a thought, as I looked at the ruins of Horatius Codes'
bridge, and at the place in the Forum where

" Virgiuius caught the whittle u^j and hid it in his gown."

96 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

Some day, if you care about it, I will get out the map
of Rome, and we will go over it and spell out the his-
tories that are written there, one over the other. The
mere art of Rome is infinite. Think of a city that
has the Dying Gladiator, and the Apollo Belvedere,
and what is called the greatest picture of the world,
Raphael's Transfiguration. Do you remember seeing
it for years in the copy in St. Paul's chancel ? I
thought it a wonderful picture when I saw the original
in the Vatican ; I cannot think it so great a picture
as the Dresden Madonna, but the comparison of great
pictures is very misatisfactory and odious. A mere
list of the other pictures of Rome that fill you with
their power or beauty would crowd my paper. Of the
people in Rome I saw many, some very pleasant. At
the Storys' house, I met several of the best artists,
and other interesting follcs. I saw Miss Hosmer, Miss
Stebbins, and Miss Cuslunan, three ladies of genius,
you know, and very pleasant personally. Our 22d
of February went off well. President King, of New
York, presided, and his son, our minister in Rome,
General King, Mr. Story, General Bartlett, and I
spoke, and Rev. C. T. Brooks, of Newport, read a
poem. We were very patriotic, and an Italian band
played our national airs well.

I am very much disappointed about my letters ; there
is a mistake about them somewhere. I received none
before leaving Rome, excej)t those that had been all
the way round by Alexandria. The latest was yours
of January 8. Now I shall get no moi-e till I reach
Rome again, which will not be till about the 14th of
March. Then I shall expect a big bundle. I don't
know what the hitch is, but take it for granted that it
will regulate itself by that time.

ATHENS. 97

Hotel, d'Angleterre, Athens,
Thursday Evening.

I am here on the '08os AtoAov, as the street signs call
it, which means ^olns Street. I go out on my balcony
and look one way, and there is the Temple of the Winds
and the Acropolis beyond, with the Parthenon glow-
ing in the sunset. I look the other way, and see the
Academy and the old grove where Plato taught his
pupils. In front is the Piraeus and the Saronic Gulf,
with Salamis in the distance. Two hours ago I was
on Mars Hill, where Paul made his address ; the old
stones of the Judgment Seat are still standing at
the head of the stairs that lead up from the Agora.
Then I went over to tlie Pnyx and stood where
Demosthenes and Pericles have so often spoken to the
Athenians of old. Before me was the Temple of
Theseus, the most perfect of all relics of antiquity.

Friday Evening, March 2.

Here my letter came to grief yesterday, owing to
the dinner bell. I spent the evening very pleasantly
at Dr. Hill's. You know he is our missionary here,
and the man who has done more than anybody else
for the elevation of Greece, by means of education.

He told me a great deal about Greece that was in-
teresting. To-day I have been on a very delightful
ride from Athens through the Pass of Daphne, along
the Thriasian Plain to Eleusis, the place where the
old mysteries, the most sacred religious rites of
ancient times, were celebrated. It is a very beauti-
fid spot, in full view of the Bay of Salamis, where
the great battle of the Greeks and Persians was
fought, and of the height where Xerxes sat and over-
looked it. Coming back, I went to the Acropolis
again, wandering around to see its beauty from

98 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

every point of view. The whole sweep of the land-
scape is glorious : Hymettus, Pentelicus, Colonus sur-
rounding the beautiful plain ; the Ilissus and Cephi-
sus, the two classic rivers of Athens, now mere dry
torrent beds, running through it, and the Acropolis,
with its immortal temples standing up, the central
gem of the whole.

Many things are odd in traveling here. First, we
are twelve days behind time. You luiow the East
has never adopted the change of calendar, so that
leavino- Messina on the 27th we arrived here on the
17th. To-day is the 19th of February on all their
newspapers, so for the present, I am twelve days
younger than you think. Then it is curious to hear
everybody, the cabmen, shopkeepers, beggars, talking
familiarly a language that we have called dead, and
struggled so hard to learn years ago. The modern
Greek is very like the old, and eliminating differences
of pronmiciation, one gets to understand it a little and
say a word or two so as to be intelligible. The modern
city is all very new, and far better, neater, and cleaner
than any other Eastern city. On the whole, these have
been two great days. Yesterday, my first in Athens,
was one of the most memorable of all my journey.

Saturday Morning, March 3.

I find there is a mail leaving to-day by the Austrian
steamer, so I will close this up hurriedly and send it.
We are going on Monday for a little trip into the
Peloponnesus, to Argos, Mycsene, and Corinth. In
about ten days I shall be back in Rome, and stay there
till after Easter. To-morrow I am going to preach in
St. Paul's Church, Athens, for Dr. Hill. Lots of love
to all ; I am very well. Affectionately,

Phill.

ROME. 99

Rome, Saturday, March 24, 1866.

Dear Father, — Since I came back to Rome, I
have been so continually busy that it has been not an
easy thing to get time to write. I beg your pardon
very humbly. Now I will tell you a little of the
much that I have done and seen since I wrote an
enormous letter to Arthur from Athens, which was
mailed at Naples. One of the best things was to get
an immense pile of letters when I arrived here. AU
the accumvdation of two months reached me at once,
and I have had a great treat in reading them. I
heard of your reception of all my letters from
Damascus to Naples, and you and mother, William,
Fred, Arthur, and John, with others outside the
family circle, contributed to my delight.

We had a rather rough passage from Athens to
Messina, and then from Messina over to Naples. I am
a very good sailor by this time, but still I am not
sorry to think that I have no more to do with the sea,
except in crossing the Channel, until I sail for home.
I did not stay in Naples, but came right on here.

Since my return, the climate of Kome has been
bad, sort of New England April weather, some rain
almost every day. But the country is looking beauti-
ful, and when we have fine weather it is splendid to
go about; for rainy days, we have the Vatican, the
Capitol, and a dozen other galleries. One day this
week I have spent at Tivoli, another in the Alban
Hills, Frascati, Tusculum, and Albano. The country
and people are very interesting indeed.

Rome has got to be just like home to me now. I
know it through and through, and after so much
wandering, my stay here has been a very j)leasant
change. I have made a good many acquaintances

100 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

among our resident artists and the travelers. The
Storys, Crawfords, Tiltons, Miss Cushman, Miss Steb-
bins, and Miss Foley, all of them I have seen a good
deal o£, and like. To-day, I am to dine with Mr.
Mozier, one of our best scidptors here. I have been
quite interested in visiting the studio of a colored art-
ist. Miss Lewis, of Boston, who has recently come
here, and promises very well indeed in scidpture.

Of travelers there are many ; Rome is crowded, so
that it is impossible to get a room. Many Philadel-
phians are here. Also the Morrills, Mr. Gardner
Brewer, and Mr. Wales, of Boston ; this is all very nice.

Next week is Holy Week, with all its great chvirch
pageants, closing with the splendid fireworks on
Easter-Monday night. On Tuesday, I shall leave,
and go by way of Foligno and Perugia to Florence ;
then to Bologna, Parma, Modena, Ferrara, Padua,
and Venice. Then to Verona, Milan, the Italian
lakes, Turin, Genoa, Nice, Marseilles, Lyons, and
Paris. Does n't that sound good ? I am depending
much on Florence and Venice, and indeed aU the
route is very rich.

I am sick at heart about Johnson's performance ; it
was my first greeting when I got back to Rome, and
was very depressing. It seems as if we had a narrow,
vidgar-minded man upon our hands, and must take
all the delay and suffering that he chooses to put upon
the country. Of course, we shall come out all right
at last, but it is very disheartening to come up short
against such an obstacle.

I hear talk about quarantine in America this
summer. Would n't it be nice to spend thirty days at
Deer Island on my way home? They seem to be
expecting the cholera everywhei"e, both here and at
home.

ROME. 101

Tell Arthur and John I was set up to get their
letters. I had already written to Arthur. My next
will be to Mr. John. Forgive this poor letter. . . .

Phillips.

Rome, March 30, 1866.
Dear Jack, — I will tell you where I am and what
I am doing. I am up in the fifth story of the Wash-
ington Hotel, that 's the where ; and I am seeing the
sights of Holy Week at Rome, that 's the what. They
began last Sunday with the great blessing of the
palms at St. Peter's. It was a gorgeous service, with
very splendid music. You have to dress for it, as if
you were going to a party. Nobody without a dress
coat is admitted into any place where you can see
anything. Then yesterday (Thursday) was one of
their great days. In the morning, his Holiness
washed the feet of twelve priests, who stood for the
Apostles, in St. Peter's, and waited on them at table.
It was a very odd and ugly sight. A tremendous
crowd was there, and it was as perfectly devoid of
anything religious or impressive as it was possible to
conceive. Then the Pope came out on the great bal-
cony in front of the church and pronounced his bene-
diction. That was one of the grandest sights I ever
saw, — the whole vast piazza crowded, and the clear
voice of the old man ringing out his blessing so that
every one covdd hear. In the afternoon, I heard the
famous Miserere in the Sistine Chapel, and whatever
else may be humbug about this strange week here, that
was certainly the most wonderful music I ever listened
to. Now, everybody is looking forward to Easter
Sunday, when the whole will crown itself with a
splendid service in the morning, and the great illumi-

102 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

nation of St. Peter's dome at night. There is much
that is very interesting about it, hut still it is good
every day to get away for a while, and wander off
into the ruins ; to go down the Corso, and climb up
among the nests of crooked streets at its foot, till you
come out on the Capitol ; then go down through the
Forum, and under the Arch of Titus to the Colisemn ;
by the Arch of Constantine to the Baths of Caracalla,
the finest old bit in Rome, and out the Appian Way
till you get beyond the gates on the Campagna, among
the aqueducts and tombs. Last night, I was going
with some folks to see the Coliseum by moonlight, but
it was cloudy and we gave it up ; about eleven o'clock
I happened to look out, and found it was clearing
and the clouds breaking away, so I started off alone,
and went down and had it all to myself. Not even
a guide was there. I climbed over a gate to get in,
and wandered all over it, with the most splendid moon
pouring down and lighting up the city on one side,
and the Campagna and the Alban Hills upon the
other. It was a great treat to sit there and watch it.
I wish you had n't been asleep, and coidd have gone
with me.

I am just getting ready to leave Rome, and am
dreadfully sorry to go away. I have seen everything,
but want to keep seeing it over again. When you
paint your futm'e, don't forget to put your brightest
colors on the days that you are to spend in Rome.
Perhaps I may be ready to come again by the time
you set out.

We find time, even here in Rome, to tallc about
home, and especially about the President and his
veto. I am glad to say people generally agree with
you and me, and agree with us vigorously, too. The

FLORENCE. 103

patriotism and home interest of the best sort of
Americans seem to be stronger here than ever. It
certainly is a great shame that such a man should
block our wheels and keep peace waiting-, under the
pretense of hastening it ; but he can only delay things,
not spoil them. To-day is Good Friday, just a year
ecclesiastically from the death of Lincoln, and the
real beginning of things going wrong. By the way,
why is there no commission yet for a great statue
of Lincoln for Boston ? Mr. Story showed me his
Everett yesterday. It is very fine, a colossal figure
in plain citizen's dress, in the act of sjaeaking, the
right arm raised in Mr. Everett's favorite gesture, the
whole very bold and simple, and successful, I think.

I send some more rare post-office stamps, all I can
get now. Are there any you want especially ? Let
me know, and I will try. Good-by, and be a good
boy, and write to me.

Your loving brother, Phillips.

Florbkce, Hotel de l' Arno,
April 8, 1866.

Dear William, — Here I am in ray third day
at Florence. Before I begin to rave about the city, I
will tell you how I came here. When I wrote to
John, I was in the midst of Holy Week at Kome.
Many of its services, such as the washing of feet
and tending on table by the Pope, were disagree-
able and fatiguing, But three things stand out in
my recollection as very fine and impressive. One
was the Miserere in the Sistine Chapel on Thursday
evening, by far the most sublime and affecting sacred
music I ever heard. The dim chapel, dusky old fres-
coes, and splendid presence joined with the wonderful

104 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

music to make it very impressive. Then the great Papal
Benediction on Easter Day at noon, from the balcony
of St. Peter's, the vast piazza crowded full, the peas-
ants from all the surrounding country in their strange
dresses, the gorgeous background of soldiery, the per-
fect stillness, and the voice of the old man ringing out
his blessing over them all. It was one of the sights
of a lifetime. Third, the illumination of St. Peter's
at night was magnificent. Every line of the majestic
dome bursting out in fire, the whole standing as if it
were the fiery dome that Michael Angelo conceived
and tried to build.

Besides these, the moment in the Easter service was
very solemn wlien the Host was elevated, the silver
trumpets sounded in the dome, and the whole vast
audience fell on their knees. Romanism certainly
succeeds in being very striking in some of its demon-
strations. Unfortunately, Easter Monday was a windy
day, and the great fireworks had to be put off, so that
I did not see them.

It was hard to leave dear old Rome ; I had learned
to love it, and hated to go away. My six weeks there
will always be a treasure to me. I know it through
and throu^gh, but it makes me sorry to think that I
shall never see it again. I left on Tuesday morning
by rail for Terni, where I stopped over night and went
to see the famous falls. They are made falls, but very
beautiful, with more variety of surface and effect, I
think, than any cataract I know. Wednesday by rail
to Foligno, and thence by Vittoria to Perugia, stopping
at Assizi, where is one of the most interesting old
churches of all Italy, built in honor of St. Francis,
who was hermit here. It is rich in the pictures of
Cimabue and Giotto, the first of modern painters, —
founders of modern painting.

FLORENCE. 10,5

Perugia is a dear old town, full of the pictures of
Perugino, Kapliael's master. Thursday by Vittoria
and rail to Florence, passing lake Trasimeno, where
Hannibal gave the Romans such a whipping. Of
Florence I cannot speak yet, though I have had two
great days here. Think of one room in the Uffizi
Palace containing the Venus de Medici (I don't like
her, she is too little, physically, morally, and mentally),
three Raphaels, two Titians, one Michael Angelo, and
lots besides, and that will give you, when you multiply
it by fifty or a hundred, some idea of what is waiting
for you to see here at Florence. Go to the Athenseum
and look at Michael Angelo's Night and Morning.
They are here in solemn marble, over the Medicis'
tond^ in St. Lorenzo church. Yesterday I went up to
Fiesole, and looked down on this perfect valley with
its beautifid town, and this morning I climbed to the
top of Giotto's Campanile in the great cathedral
square, and saw the city from there. To-morrow I am
going down to Pisa to see if that tower really leans, as
Woodbridge's Geography said, and after spending the
week here, I shall be off for Bologna and Venice. I
wonder sometimes that one does not tire of the very
excess of interest and beauty, but the constant change
is a constant impidse, and I am fresher for enjoying
tilings to-day than I was when I first set foot at
Queenstown.

On arriving here, I found yours of March 20 ; it
seems as if I were almost at home to get such recent
dates. Now I shall hear regularly every week. Four
weeks from to-day I shall be in Paris. By the way,
where are your commissions for the centre of fashions ?
What number gloves do you wear ? I am glad you
think I am economical. I perpetrated one or two

106 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

extravagances at Rome, a bronze, etc. I saw Miss
Foley in Rome and liked her exceedingly ; she gave
me some pretty photographs of some of her things,
which you will find with those which I sent in John's
letter. I have met friends here who were large pur-
chasers, with whose boxes my modest bundles coidd
be easily and cheaply packed.

Now, a conunission for you. I want a copy of Mr.
Sumner's speech on the Representation amendment in
pamplilet. I must have it. If you cannot get it any
other way, do write to him direct, and ask for it. I
am anxious to have it for a particular reason. The
Freedmen's Union have asked me to go to London to
the anniversary meetings in May to enlighten John
Bull's Emancipation League. . . . Good-by, I am
perfectly well, and, as you see, perfectly happy.
Love to all. Affectionately, Phillips.

Bologna, Italy, Hotel San Makco,
Sunday, April 15, 1866.

Dear Mother, — I am spending a rainy Sunday
at this old town of sausages. I believe there are
other things than sausages here, but I don't know
anything about them yet, for I only got here late last
night, and since I woke this morning it has rained so
horribly that I have n't been outside the walls of the
hotel. Since I wrote to William last week, I have
seen all of Florence, and been to Pisa and Sienna. I
am happy to report that the tower at Pisa does really
lean, just the way the picture-books have it, and you
have the proper pleasant feeling of insecurity as you
wind around it up to the top. It has stood crooked
for a good many years, and my being safe here to-day

BOLOGNA. 107

proves tliat It did not tumble when I was on it last
Monday.

The Cathedral and Baptistery at Pisa are both
very rich in old art, and the Canipo Santo, where
the monks, priests, and nobles lie buried in the
holy earth that was brought all the way from Jeru-
salem for them to sleep in, with its frescoed colon-
nades around it, is one of the nicest, quietest burying
grounds in all the world. Sienna is a charming-
sleepy old Italian town, with a wonderfvd cathedral,
and a gallery of immensely old pictures. Among
others, an Ecce Homo by an old man called So-
donia, which I wish you could see. It is almost the
most powerful and touching face of Christ which I
have seen in any picture. As to Florence itself, it
is the brightest, sunniest, bluest, most delightfully
pretty place in Italy. The days there were the
perfection of Italian weather, when everything, from
the hovels to the stars, seems to have ten times as
much distinctness of color and outline as it ever gets
at home. The pictures in Florence are beyond all
description or calculation. You get bewildered with
the wealth with which Raphaels, and Titians, and so
on, are scattered through the endless galleries. There
are hundreds that would be the making, any one
of them, of a gallery at home, and which once seen
here seem to be before your eyes all the time, and not
to be forgotten forever afterwards. The mornings I
generally spent in the galleries, and the afternoons
walked or rode off into the country somewhere around
the town, to some point where its beauty stood out in a
splendid view. I shall remember my week in Florence
as one of the pleasantest of all my journey. The ride
from there here, across the Apennines, was very fine.

108 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

Everybody in Europe now is wondering, you know,
whether there is going to be war between Austria and
Prussia. If there is, as seems likely, it is impossible
to say to what extent it will involve all the rest of
Europe. Everything seems ready for a general upset,
for there is not one nation among them that is not in
some way restless and uneasy with the present state
of things, and prepared to welcome a general row in
hopes of something better. The Old World is very
rotten, and if President Johnson would only behave
himself and stop vetoing good bills, and let the
United States go on and do her work, she might lead
the universe. What a great misfortune that man is
to the comitry ! What have we done to deserve him ?
Did we not struggle through the war, and put down
the Rebellion? and now why should the conquered
South be allowed to come up and rule us still in this
other form ? It is very hard to understand. The last
veto, I take it, is decisive as to his sjjirit and
intentions.

I had no letters from you this last week. They
have gone to Venice. By the time you get this, about
the first of May, I shall be in Paris, and stay there
some three weeks. I hope to meet Strong there, and
shall be very glad indeed to see one so fresh from
home, who has seen you all so lately. My time is
drawing to its close, and, much as I have enjoyed
everything, I shall be quite ready to come home. I
expect to enjoy Switzerland immensely. Mr. Tilton,
the artist, of whom I saw a good deal in Rome, has
promised to meet me there, and we shall probably
travel some together. The Storys may be there, too.
So far, my whole trip has been a success. I could
not ask for anything in it to be changed. But here is

A VIGNON. 109

my paper all gone, only room left to say good-by and

lots of love to everybody, and to be, in small letters.

Your affectionate and dutiful son, Phillips.

Hotel de l'Europe, Avignon, France,
April ;]0, 186(3.

Dear Father, — I believe it is two weeks since I
have written to any of you at home, though I wrote
to Fred from Venice. My excuse must be that these
have been two of the busiest weeks of my journey-
ing. Before I plunge into Paris, however, I will let
you hear of me froin this queer old French town. I
went from Venice to Verona, where I spent a night ;
a very interesting town, with one of the most remark-
able Roman amphitheatres, in better preservation than
any other. It is one of Shakespeare's great towns,
too, " Komeo and Juliet,*' you know, and " The Two
Gentlemen." The old house of the Captdets, where
the pretty Juliet lived, is still there. From Verona
to Brescia, a delightful old place, Roman remains,
mediaeval architecture, and pictures ; everywhere the
quaintness, simplicity, and unlike-anything-else-ness
of modern Italy. Few places have given me more
pleasure than Brescia. From there to Milan, as
bright, and gay, and pretty a modern town as there is
in the world. In the midst of it stands the wonderful
cathedral, that everybody knows all his life in pictures,
a bit of most delicate and beautiful lace work, done
in white marble, a forest of statues and elaborate
carvings, not done yet, and not likely to be finished
for many years to come. There are siqjerb pictures
in Milan, too, and the almost-gone remains of one
of the greatest pictures of the world, Leonardo da
Vinci's fresco of the Last Supper. Then to Turin

110 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

by a splendid road, close under the shadow of the
Alps, with Monte Rosa and a himdred other white
peaks looking at you all the way. Turin is a hand-
some town, but has not much to be seen except some
good pictures. Then to Genoa, the city of palaces,
splendid structures, with magnificent architecture and
paintings. The whole situation of tlie town, too, is
very striking. There I took a steamer and sailed to
Marseilles. Good-by to Italy, and into the domains
of - Napoleon the Little ; red-legged soldiers and big
gendarmes everywhere. Marseilles is a big city, but
not very interesting, and I was soon off to Nimes, a
French town as old as the Roman empire, and older.
It has fine Roman remains, another amphitheatre,
temples, etc. From there to Avignon, the place
where the Popes ran in the fourteenth century, when
they had to clear out of Rome, and the dearest, French-
iest of old towns. The old Papal castle, a grim,
thick-walled great affair, is now a barrack for soldiers.
From here I go to-morrow to Lyons, and the next
day to Paris, where you may think of me when you
get this. There is this bit of my biography which
you must fill out with ever so much enjoyment every
day, and be thankful for, as I am.

I received letters from you at Venice to March 23.
I am depending much on getting some more at Paris.
You are all as sood as can be about writing. I will
try to pay you up when any of you come to Europe.
Meanwhile, forgive my shortcomings. I see papers
now more frequently ; I am so glad that Congress has
passed the Civil Rights Bill. Let them go on and do
their duty, firmly, but without passion or exaspera^
tion, and all will be well in spite of Johnson.

All Europe is wondering whether there is going to be

PARIS. Ill

war. Italy was in great excitement, and is longing
for Venetia, which she ought to have. My opinion is
not worth anything, for Bismarck has n't sent me
word. But I believe the storm will blow over.

I expect to meet Strong in Paris in the course of
a week. How long our plans will run together, I
cannot tell till we meet. Only four or five months
more, and I am with you. It will be a glad day. A
million thanks for all your goodness in writing. You
do not know how glad I am to get letters. No end
of love to you all. Phillips.

Paris, May 9, 1866.

Dear William, — I have been in Paris now a
week, and a busy week in Paris will let you know a
good deal about the city. I have loafed in it from
one end to the other, and have seen the bigger part of
what is worth seeing in the town itself. Under these
circumstances, I feel justified in deliberately asserting,
and you may repeat it if you wish, on my authority,
that Paris is considerable of a place. It is a great
change from most of my other traveling, after Syrian
tents, and Greek inns, and Italians albergos, and
steamboat berths, to settle quietly down in this luxu-
rious hotel, dine at nice restaurants, and walk all day
on these bitumen sidewalks, which are the luxury of
pedestrianism. I am glad I came here last. It is a
better place to end than to begin with.

Paris, you know, is almost a new city. There is very
little really ancient or mediaeval left; even the me-
morials of its revolutionary days are hard to find.
Everything is splendid with the lavish outlays of
Napoleon III. I saw him and Mrs. Eugenie driving
in the Champs Elysees the other day, and the little

112 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

prince, wlio is said to be really a very remarkable boy,
I saw driving into the Tuileries on Sunday. Paris is
f idl of all sorts of people. Every day somebody tiu"ns
up that I have known or heard of. I like it very well
for a little while.

I don't know how long I shall stay here. I have
some little thought of going over to London on Monday
to see the very English sight of the Derby Day. I
have also urgent letters from the Freecbnen's friends
there, who are going to have a public meeting some
time this month. If I go, I shall stay in England
about six weeks, and get a week or two more here be-
fore I go into Switzerland.

Father's and mother's letters by the Asia, of April
25, turned up to-day. That seems like being very
near home. Tell them not to worry about the cholera.
I shall keep as clear as possible of any places where it
may show itself. I am delighted to hear that you are
all well at home. Nothing but the war is talked of
now. Things certainly look very belligerent. I did
Venice just in time. Nobody is allowed to go there
now.

By the way, our friend Mr. Ward is in London, and
one of the active Freedmen's men. . . .

What an exceedingly disagreeable creatm^e our cliief
magistrate is ! I always take up a new paper now,
sure that there will be another of those abominable
vulgar speeches, and they are so weak and bad. If
they had any strength in them, we could stand their
vulgarity. Well, he can last only three years longer,
and meanwhile everybody must work against him, as
they did against ovu* other enemies.

This is not much of a letter to write from Paris,
but perhaps next week I will give you a stunner about

LONDON. 113

the Derby Day. Paris you must come and see for
yourself. It's such an odd, splendid jumble that it
can't be written about satisfactorily. However, I am
well and happy, and you must take that for the burden
of this letter. Affectionately,

Phill.

London, Albemarle Hotel,
May 18, 186(5.

Dear Mother, — I write in great haste this
morning, because I do not want this week's mail to go
without some indication of me. I am in London again
and very well, that is about all that I have time to say.
I left Paris behind me on Tuesday morning, and
crossed the Channel by way of Boulogne and Folke-
stone. With my usual luck, I had a bright, smooth
day, and none of those disagreeable scenes which are
often witnessed on board the Channel boats.

I found London very full indeed, and only just suc-
ceeded in getting a room. Wednesday I went to the
Derby Day. It is one of the great characteristic Eng-
lish sights ; all the city of London shuts up shop, and
goes out twenty miles into the country to Epsom, to
see which of two horses will run the fastest. The ex-
cited look of the city, the stream of people of all ranks
and sorts going out, the hosts who cover the grounds,
the excitement of the race itself, and then the return
to town at night, let you see one sort of English life as
you cannot well see it anywhere else. The Prince of
Wales was out there, and so was I.

This is the bio- thins;' that I have done in London
this week. Besides this, I have been seeing the great
city over again, and picking up new impressions of it.
When I was here before, it was deserted ; now it is

114 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

crowded, and every excitement and fashion is at its
height. You cannot think how strange it seems to get
back into English ways, and in sound of our own lan-
guage. Why, the very boys in the streets speak Eng-
lish ! It seems like getting very near home again, and
if it were not that I am to put off into foreign parts
again by and by, I slioidd feel as if my travelings were
almost over. I hope to stay in England now till the
end of next month. The country is Jiot looking its
best yet, though it is very beautifid. It seems as if
you could not cut out a square mile anywhere from
this England without getting a gem of a garden or a
park.

About the Freedmen's business, of which I have
feared that I should have a good deal when I reached
here, I think I shall escaj^e it almost altogether. The
great financial crisis has interfered with their j^laus,
and no meetings will be held. I am going to a private
meeting of a Mr. Kinnaird, M. P., this evening. . . .

I called at the Adamses yesterday and saw Mr.
Adams ; Mrs. Adams was out. I shall see more of
them, no doubt, by and by.

Strong met me in Paris and came on to London,
and is now with me. I was delighted to see him and
to hear about you all.

Four months more and I am with you. Until that
happy day, I am always affectionately,

Phillips.

Albemarle Hotel, London, May 26.

Dear Mother, — I must not let to-day's steamer

go without a line to say that I am well. I am still in

London, though I expect to leave for the country

some time next week. I have promised to speak at a

LONDON. 115

meeting at Birniingliam, June 12, that will be my
only puLlic performance in England. Yours and
father's and Arthur's reached me last Monday, and
were most welcome. Tell Mr. Arthur to do it again,
if he can.

London is full to the brim, and the weather is
glorious. Every day has been very busy, seeing the
endless sights. One day I went down to Canterbury,
and spent the whole day at the cathedral and other
old buildings there. It is a glorious place ; next
week I hope to get to Cambridge, and as soon as pos-
sible to Oxford.

Your cousins the Adamses are well and very hospi-
table, and inquire all about you. To-day the Scotia is
in, and I hope she has some letters for me. She
brings news of another veto of our precious President.
English people think he is a great man.

Strong is with me, and will be, probably, most of
the summer. It makes it very pleasant.

It looks now a little more as if they were going to
get over the crisis in Europe without much fighting,
but a little match may set the whole pile of combustibles
off at any moment. This all makes it more fortunate
that I came just when I did, and got through. No
cholera anywhere, and don't worry about Switzerland.
Lots of love to all. Affectionately,

Phillips.

University Arms, Cambridge,
May 29, 1866.

Dear Fred,^ — I am in our Alma Mater's Mater.
There is something charmingly homelike and familiar
in old Cambridge. Outwardly unattractive by situa-
tion, but very lovely with old Gothic courts and build-

I His brother, Rev. Frederick Brooks.

116 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

ings, and all the beauty of noble old trees, perfect
lawns, and blossomy hawthorns. The pretty Cam
covered with college boats, the streets full of college
faces and manners that might have been transplanted
from the dear old banks of the Charles. The students
seem to me very like indeed to Harvard boys, — the
same average of age, the same general bearing, the
same sort of talk. If anytliing especially gives them
an advantage over us, it seems to be in the University
system, the grouping of colleges so as to create a
friendly corporate as well as personal rivalry, and the
presence among them of older and mature scholars,
residing on fellowships, etc., who raise the scholarly
standards of the place higher than they coidd be set
by mere undergraduate attainment.

Both of these advantages, I think, are capable of
being engrafted on our system, and if they ever are,
I see no reason why, in time, our greater freedom from
old prescriptions and restraints should not make our
University a better place than this. The beauty of
the college grounds, their homey seclusion, and perfect
vistas are past describing. Oxford, of course, sur-
passes Cambridge in all this, but Cambridge is a con-
tinual delight.

I only arrived to-day, but hope to stay a day or two,
and see much more of the University life. From here
I am going on a little trip to Peterborough, Ely, Noi*-
wich, and some other towns in this part of England.
It is the season of seasons for its beauty. The
Phillipses (this for father) came, I believe, from Eayn-
liam in Norfolk, or near it. You remember the ori-
ginal George, who came over and preached luider a
tree in Watertown, and died of an unfortunate colic.
Don't you ? Perhaps I have got them a little mixed

CAMBRIDGE. 117

up, but all those facts were among the household
words of our childhood. . . .

As to my time in London, it was very full, but of a
lot of tilings that you can get from the guide-books
about as well as from me. I like London immensely.
Last night I spent at the House of Commons. It was
one of the great nights of the Keforni Bill. By the
kindness of Mr. Forster, I got admission to the Speak-
er's gallery. The best men on both sides spoke : Glad-
stone, calm, cool, clear, and courteous ; Disraeli, jerky,
spiteful, personal, very telling ; Bright, honest, solid,
indignant with the small trickery and meanness of
the opposition ; Mill, who holds people by sheer power
of thought, as I have hardly ever seen any man do ;
Whiteside, Grey, and others. The government was
defeated on a side issue by the manoeuvring of the
opposition, and the weakness of some of their own
men. As to the look of the House, it certainly sur-
prises one, who has heard their endless abuse of our
legislative assemblies, which of course are bad enough.
There was no such brutal outbreak as sometimes dis-
graces our noble representatives, but for constant and
bitter personality, in place of argument, for boisterous
and unmannerly carrying-on generally, Washington
cannot beat them. In the middle of the evening, I
dined with Mr. Forster and Mr. Bright, and had our
great English friend pretty much to myself for two
hours. He is a great talker, especially when he gets
on to America, and he knows what he is talking about.
Both he and Forster are friends worth having. Bright
personally wins you in a minute by the frankness and
cordialness and manliness of his gTeeting. Hughes,
I saw, but not for any talk. The Reform Bill, little
as it attempts, seems bound to fail.

118 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

One word about Venice. If I did not expatiate, it
was not because I did not enjoy it immensely. It is
all that your fancy ever painted. Some day I will tell
you about it.

Many thanks for your photograph. It is capital,
the very boy I used to see, lazily stretching his length
in my chair in Spruce Street.

Strong wants me to remember him very kindly to
you. We are having a great time. The new rector
of the Trinity parish in Boston is to join us for Switzer-
land this smnmer. I wish you were to be the fourth.

I am to speak at a breakfast and public meeting in
Birmingham for the freedmen. Probably I shall not
have time to write to Boston this week, so either send
them this letter, or let them know that I am well.

Be sure I shall think of you ever so much on your
ordination day. God bless you. Phill.

Albemakle Hotel, London,
June 8, 1806.

Dear William, — There will be another very
short and unsatisfactory letter, I am afraid, to-night.
The fact is, I can tell you about London by and by a
great deal better than I can write it, so we will put it
off until I get home, which, by the way, will be on the
25tli of September. I am to sail in the good steamer
Ville de Paris, from Brest for New York, on the 15th
of September, and shall be with you in ten days from
that time. Does n't that soiuid near ? I prefer the
French steamers to the English, and this particidar one
is unsurpassed by any boat on the Atlantic. Look out
for her.

To-day I have been to one of the great London sights
of the year, the Charity Scholars' Festival, under the

LONDON. 119

jlome of St. Paul's, fovir thousand little wanderers
o-athered together and singing in chorus. I never
heard anything so telling, the great building rang with
their voices. A bishop preached the sermon. After
the performance I had the pleasure of lunching with
Dean Milman, a charming old gentleman. Do you
not remember his " Belshazzar," that Dimmock used to
spout ? This evening I have spent with Browning, at
the Storys' rooms (they have just come to London).
He (Browning) was one of the men I wanted most to
see here, a pleasant gentleman, full of talk about
London and London people, with not a bit of the poet
about him externally.

Last Monday I went to Eton, to their great annual
festival. Do you remember Eton Montem in the
" Parents' Assistant " ? It was a fine day, and the coun-
try was looking very beautiful. And I saw the great-
est of the s^reat Enolish schools at its best.

I wrote last week to Fred from Cambridge. I con-
tinued my trip to Peterborough, Ely, and Norwich,
and enjoyed inunensely the great cathedrals of all the
towns and the perfect English country. Strong has
left me for a week or two to go to northern England,
to see some places which I visited last fall. I am go-
ing in a day or two, and shall be at Birmingham for a
Freedmen's meeting, on the 12th ; at Oxford for the
great Commemoration on the 13th, and then keep
west. Meet Strong again at Chester, take a run
through Wales, and the southern part of England, and
get back to London about the first of July, and then
be off to Switzerland with your rector.

An "Advertiser" to-night with Seward's speech.
So good-by ; engage Robin for September 26. I am
very well. Lots of love to all. Good-night.

Phill.

120 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

Warwick Arms, Warwick, June 14.

Dear Father, — If a letter is going to you at
home this week,. it must be written to-night, and yet
I confess I don't feel much like writing it. I have
just reached here, am very tired, and the waiter is
thinking of bringing me some dinner. Until it
comes, I will try to talk to you, and you nuist not
be surprised if you find me stupid. When I woke
up this morning, I found myself in Stratford-on-Avon,
where I faintly remembered arriving late last night ;
I arose as soon as I realized where I was, and took a
walk before breakfast across the nicest and quaintest
of English fields, to see the old farndiouse where
Shakespeare made love, where Anne Hathaway used
to live. The old cottage stands without an alteration,
and is a charming little place. Then I came back to
breakfast, and after that was over, went off to see the
rest, — the birthplace, schoolhouse, burial-place, and
all that belongs to the poet's life here, which we
know very well by pictures that we have seen all our
lives. Nothing in England, I think, has a stronger
charm than this queer old town. About noon, I took
the train for Warwick, but, finding I was too late to
see the castle to-day, I looked at the church with its
monuments, the finest, best preserved in all England,
and then drove across the loveliest of country, stop-
ping at Guy's Cliff, where the earliest of the
Warwicks, the hero of the fairy stories, used to put
up (and he had a splendid place of it), to Kenil-
worth, where I spent the whole afternoon among the
ruins, and such an afternoon as you will never know
anything about till you come over and do just the
same thing. By the way, are you not making uj)
your mind to come over to the great Paris fair of

WARWICK. 121

next year? It is time for you and mother to be
thinking about it. Then I came down to Leam-
ington, and spent an hour or two in the park of an
English watering-place, and finally took the train
back to Warwick, where I am waiting to see the
noblest castle in England to-morrow morning. That
is what I have done to-day. Yesterday I spent at
Oxford ; it was Commemoration, which is their Com-
mencement, a strange sight, — perfect wild license of
the students, and the freest liberty to chaff, and hoot,
and cheer as they please. It was a picture that is not
to be seen anywdiere else. The day before that, I was
in Birmingham, telling Britons that they had been
slaves to prejudice and self-interest about America.
The day before that, I was at Blenheim, the great
palace of Marllx>rough. Do you remember Mr.
Everett's splendid descrijjtion of it in his Washington
address ? The two days before that, I was in Oxford
(Saturday and Sunday) enjoying the most perfect
college landscapes, and some of the kindest hospitality
in the world. That takes me back about to my last
letter, and accounts j^retty fully for my week.

I did not get yours of last week ; they are waiting
for me at Chester, where I shall call for them on
Monday, on my way into Wales. I hope you are
all well. The Fenians seem to be restless aa-ain : I
hope we shall put them down with their nonsense.
And why do you not either try Jeif Davis, or let him
go ? It would be a great relief to foreign travelers.
Before you get this, the great war will probably have
begun over here, and promises to be terrible. Three
months from to-morrow I sail for you all. Good-by.
God bless you always. Affectionately,

Phillips.

122 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

The Goat Hotel, Beddgelbrt, Wales,
June 20, 1866.

Dear Mother, — I am thinking that to-day is
Fred's ordination day, and that yoa and father are
in Philadelphia. Am I right ? How I wish I could
be with you. I wonder where the ordination is ? I
hope in my old church. It would always be a very
pleasant thing to think of his having been ordained
there ; wherever it is, I wish him with all my heart
every blessing and success in his ministry. Of course,
you will write me about it at once.

I am in Wales. Get your map and find this little
valley where we have hauled up in the rain. It lies
at the foot of Snowdon, shut in by grand, bleak
Welsh hills, with a little brawling picturesque Welsh
stream tumbling among them. It is the place, you
know, of the old murder of the faithful hound by his
master, Llewellyn. Gelert's grave is in the garden
of the hotel. My views of Wales are much like
Jonah's, very wet ; it has rained, off and on, pretty
much all day, while we (Strong and I) have been
driving first by coach to Llanberis from Caernarvon,
and then from Llanberis here by post. Caernarvon
is on the coast, with a noble ivy-grown castle of early
times, where the first Prince of Wales was born.
The people talk an unintelligible gibberish without
vowels, and the women wear shabby hats, and all
looks quaint, quiet, and thrifty. The road thence
to Llanberis is very beautiful, and Llanberis itself
nobly situated at the entrance of a pass, and inter-
esting with its pretty waterfalls, and a most pictur-
esque tower of the sixth century. It has vast quarries
of slate. The schoolboys and the house roofs bid fair
to be kept supplied for years to come. From Llan-

WALES. 123

beris to Beddgelcrt the scenery is glorious. The
wiklest pass, with tremendous cliffs, countless water-
falls, ivied cottages, and quaint, odd-looking people
everywhere. Wales delights one with its grandness
and majesty, as unlike sunny England as can be.

I think I wrote you last week from Warwick ;
thence I traveled to Rugby, and saw the old school,
and all that reminds one of Dr. Arnold, its great
master. The boys were at a cricket match in the
close, and all looked just as it ought. Then to
Coventry, where are some of the greatest churches
and quaintest houses in England, and " Peeping
Tom," still looking out of a hole of a corner house,
in perpetual effigy. Then to Chatsworth, the noblest
private residence in England, the seat of the Duke of
Devonshire, and near it Haddon Hall, a perfectly
kept specimen of the old baronial hall, the best in the
kingdom ; then to Litclifield, where I spent Sunday.
A beautiful cathedral, a lovely country, and much of
interest in connection with Dr. Johnson's birth in the
town, and its j^revious active part in the Civil Wars.
Monday to Chester, where I was rejoined by Strong,
and met Potter (your rector), who joined us the next
day to Conway, where is a great old castle, and then
to Bangor and the wonderful tubular bridge over the
Menai Straits ; then rail to Caernarvon, which brings
my story complete. Potter left us to-day to push
direct to London, where he will join us in a couple of
weeks to start for the Continent. He is very well,
and seems full of hope about Trinity. I think it very
likely that we may return together.

So you see I jog on. Every day is full of new pleasure,
and every day bringing me nearer and nearer home.
I have begun to count the weeks ; only fourteen more,

124 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

and I am with you. Won't it be nice ? This terrible
war, which has begun now, will perhaps interfere
with some of my summer plans. But that will be
the least of its evils, and I will not complain. I have
been very fortunate, and have seen, it may be, more
than I can digest.

I found letters from you at Chester, but now shall
get no more till I reach London, ten days hence,
which is hard.

I hear from Philadelphia that all goes well, but I
want to be there more than I am wanted. I had a
letter from Dr. Vinton a week or two ago. How I
wish I could get into the back parlor to-night, and I
would tell you a great deal more about this splendid
Wales. Good-by, and love to all. I am very well,
and always your loving son, Phillips.

Albemarle Hotel, London,
June 29, 1866.

Dear William, — Last week's letter was sent from
the heart of Wales, the foot of Snowdon. This is
from the metropolis again, so I spin along. During
the week I have seen and done a good deal. We
climbed to the " Tip Top House " of Snowdon, and so
began in a mild way our summer's mountaining. The
climb does not amount to much. The view is one of
the noblest I know, with infinite variety of hill, valley,
and lake, and the sea in the distance. Then we took
a long ride through most perfect scenery from
Beddgelert to Port Madoc, down the coast to Bar-
mouth, and thence to Dolgelly. This last stage,
from Barmouth to Dolgelly, is the finest bit in Wales,
and can hardly be surpassed anywhere. You must
take it when you come abroad.

LONDON. 125

From Dolgelly we came across the country to Shrews-
bury, then down to Hereford, where there is a fine old
cathedral, on to Ross, and thence liy a most beautiful
ride down the valley of the Wye to Monmouth, where
we spent Sunday, a pretty and deadly quiet little
village. Keeping- still down the Wye to Chepstowe, we
passed Tintern Abbey, the most beautiful monastic
ruin in England. You cannot conceive how lovely it
is, with its exquisite arches, perfect windows, and
immense masses of rich ivy, Chepstowe to Gloucester,
Worcester, Bristol, Wells, all interesting towns, with
historical associations, fine old buildings, and delightful
scenery. Then to Salisbury, and there I saw what is
to me the most impressive thing by far in all England,
Stonehenge, the old Briton temple out on Salisbury
plain. A drive of eight miles from the town, over the
green, flat plain, got us there just before dusk, and we
saw the gigantic ruin looking its lordliest. There
was something very grand and absolutely refreshing
in those enormous rude, gray stones, the symbols
of old strength, and will, and worship. I would rather
miss seeing anything else in England than Stone-
henge. From Salisbury to Southampton, and thence
to Winchester, which is full of interest, and then
back to smoky, dingy, grand old London. The
whole trip has been delightful, weather fine, except
one or two days, and the scenery looking its best.
Now I have done with England, and shall start
Monday morning for Paris again, and by next week's
end be in Switzerland.

I found letters here from you, for which no end of
thanks. You don't know how much I enjoy them.
Next Monday is your birthday. All hail to you,
O thirty-two!

126 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

I met your friend, Mrs. Walter Baker, in Wales.
Tell father and mother I want to know all about the
ordination. Good-by, and in three months more I am
with you. Love to all.

Your affectionate brother, Phill.

Strasburg, July 7, 1866.

Dear Mother, — I have an hour or two on my
hands, and will begin my next week's letter. I am on
the wing again, you see, and set for Switzerland.
Yesterday I was at Rheims, one of the most interesting-
towns of France, where all the old kings used to be
crowned, and where a good many of them are buried.
Its cathedral is a wonderful thing of the richest and
noblest Gothic. There are old Roman remains in the
town, too. These Romans are everywhere. Then I
came on here. I wish you could see Strasburg ; you
coidd hardly find a better specimen of an old town,
half French, half German, than this is. It is strange
to hear them talking German once more. It seems
like last autumn over again. This afternoon I am
going to Baden-Baden, the great watering and gaming
place. There I shall spend Sunday. Thanks to the
submission of Austria, it seems now as if the whole
Continent would be open enough to travel. Is n't the
news good ? All France is waving with flags for the
glory that has come to her in the business. Italy will
be the best monument that Louis Napoleon will leave
behind him, and it will cover many of his misdeeds.
I should like to be in Venetia now, and see their re-
joicings.

Basle, Tuesday, July 10.

I had a day or two in Baden-Baden, and then
came on as far as here, where my tour of Switzerland

BASLE. 127

really begins. I enjoyed Baden very mucdi indeed.
Its situation is most beautifid, and everything just
now is looking its best. The great gambling-place is
not quite as full as usual this year. The war has kept
some away, but there is plenty of gayety there, and the
tables are going from morning until night. Sunday
morning, just after breakfast, I saw them at it, and I
did not sit up late enough to see the end. The walks
and drives through the country about Baden are
charming. No wonder it is a place of such attraction.
I came from there here. This is a quiet little town,
with the usual old cathedral and a picture gallery,
and the Rhine running through it. There is nothing
particularly interesting about it. I am waiting only
till this afternoon for Strong, whom I left in Paris,
and who will probably overtake me here. . • .

It is getting quite warm, and no doubt we shall
suffer enough from the heat in some parts of Switzer-
land ; but there are always the mountains to retreat
to, and with a glacier close at hand one ought to be
able to get along.

I hope you are counting the time as closely as I am
to my getting home. Only twelve weeks more, and
there I am. How you will miss the chance of writing
me a letter every week, and what a saving there will
be in postage ! I am hoping to hear, when I get to
Geneva, of Fred's ordination, and perhaps of his
settlement somewhere. I hope he will not be in a
hurry to decide where to go. There is so much to do
everywhere that he can have his choice, and it will be
a great deal better if he waits till fall.

I am glad you have had a journey. I hope you
went to West Point and Niagara. I depend on hear-
ing all about it. Next year you and father must

128 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

come over to tlie Great Exposition. Now good-by
for another week. Love to all.

Most affectionately, Phillips.

Chamounix, Tuesday Evening, July 17, 1860.

Dear William, — I write to you to-night from
the foot of Mont Blanc. I do not in the least
expect the letter to be worthy of the place, but here I
am in the Hotel Royal. Early this morning, George
Strong and I left Geneva (about which I will not tell
you anything, except that the lake is one of the love-
liest things on the earth}, in the back boot of a big
kmibering diligence, with five horses, and set our faces
towards the Alps. For five broiling hours the country
was tame and dull, and nothing seemed to foretell
Switzerland, except the increasing number of horrid-
looking people with goitres on their necks, who came
with idiotic grins to beg by the coach side. About
noon, the hills began to gather round us, an occa-
sional snow patch was seen up among the clouds, now
and then a waterfall came hurling itself down, and
saying something in the Alpine tongue, which we
had n't yet learned to understand. At one o'clock (I
want to be exact about such an important moment
in my life), we drove into the little village of St.
Martin, and, turning suddenly to cross the gray, small
river Arve, which had been brawling at our side all
the way, the driver pulled up his five horses, and there
was Mont Blanc, as vast, and grand, and white as
one has dreamed of it, twelve miles off, they said,
though it might as well have been twelve hundred,
it seemed so unapproachable and far away, although
we saw its whole outline, and the ridges in its snow,
and the great black needles standing up out of the

CHAMOUNIX. 129

white distinctly. Well, we had a pretty good lunch
at the town on the other side of the bridge, called
Sallanches, and then, leaving oui' diligence behind, took
small carriages and started for Chamounix. It was
awfully hot. Our brains sizzled and steamed. I have
been as hot only once or twice ; never hotter. And
the snow peaks were looking down, and making cool
fun of us all the time. By and by, we came to a
steep hill, and had to get out and climb three miles.
When we reached the top, Mont Blanc was nearer
and plainer, and we could see the great glaciers run-
ning down the sides, and almost catch the sparlde of
the intense white snow on top. Then the heat broke
up in rain, and it poured down, first in great big Al-
pine drops, and then in sheets, for the next two or
three miles. When this was over, a great rainbow
came, tied itself like a sash on the white shoidder
of the ridge, and fell down across its white robe to
its feet.

We entered the valley of Chamounix, passed along
by the foot of the Glacier des Boissons, saw the
Mer de Glace in the distance, crossed a lot of bois-
terous little streams, that came down just fresh from
the great calm snow, rattled over a bridge across
the Arve again, and were in the village ; secured
rooms in a sort of supplement to the hotel, which
is called the Crystal Palace, and found ourselves
just in time for the six o'clock table d'hote.

Chamounix as a village is principally three great
hotels, with no end of little ones. All the other houses
are connected in some way with Alpine tourists.
It is safe to ask at any house for an alpenstock.
The general appearance of the town reminds me
of Gorham, only there is n't a railway, and there

130 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

is Mont Blanc. It is raining guns to-night, but my
pair of big shoes, with nails in the soles, are out
already for to-morrow. Meanwhile, a flash of light-
ning every now and then cuts across a gap, thi'ough
which you can look at the snow, that has laughed at
some thousands and thousands of rain-storms.

There, yomig man, sometimes you complain that I
don't tell you what I am doing. Look at that ! I
flatter myself nobody ever made more out of a day's
ride than that ; certainly you will know at least how
I got from Geneva to Chamounix.

At Geneva, I found letters, all whose burden was
the great Philadelphia visit. One from you, one
from father, one from Mr. Cofiin, and a little slip
from Fred. I am rejoiced that all went off so well,
and now I depend upon hearing about the new
Reverend's future plans. Four months from to-day I
shall be on the ocean. The Ville de Paris made a
passage of nine days lately, so I think you and Robin
may look for me on the 26th. Now good-by. Glory,
glory, gloriation ! ten more weeks before vacation.
• . . Phill.

GiESSBACH, Switzerland, August 5, 1866.

Dear Mothee, — To-day, I am up here in the
woods, with the famous Falls of Giessbach timibling
and roaring in front of my windows, spending Sun-
day in what, if it were not for the great hotel, would
be the most retired nook of all creation.

At Interlaken, the other day, I received three weeks'
accmnulation of letters ; a good feast after a long
starvation. I must defer all accounts of my own
minor travels to congratulate you on the great
achievement of your Niagara. I am very thankful

GIESSBACH. 131

that you have been there. It is certainly the greatest
wonder of Nature, which remark has been made
about it before, perhaps, but I want to assure your
comphicency by letting you be confident that the
Old World has nothing to show that will compare
with it. Mont Blanc is pretty grand, and there is no
reason why you should not see that, too, some day,
but for the present you may rest well satisfied with
Niagara.

It seems lucky, with such a houseful as you have
had, that one of the boys was safely out of the way
in Europe. . . . This last week, I have been seeing
the wonders and the beauties of the Bernese Oberland,
as it is called, that part of Switzerland which lies
about the lake of Thun. Then from Macugiiaga,
where I wrote last Sunday, I came down the valley
of Anzasca to Domo d' Ossola, then over the great
Simplon Road to Brieg, over the Gemmi Pass to
Thun, down the lake of Lucerne, over the mountains,
close to the splendid Jungfrau to Meyringen, and
from there to this mountain side on the lake of
Brienz. It has aU been splendid. The beauty of
Switzerland is, that it has no dull places, and one is
never tired, only sometimes bewildered a little with
its endless attractions. Strong and I are still together.

The great interest of your letters was what you
told me of Fred's beginnings in the good work.
Everything seems to be going splendidly with him,
as everybody knew it would. I hear indirectly from
parishioners, whom I meet here, of how great is the
impression that he made in Philadelphia. I hope
he will not be in such a hurry to settle far away, but
that I shall see him somewhere in September.

This is a poor letter, still I am no less your loving

132 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

son, and will tell you so by word of mouth in seven
weeks and a liaK. Good-by, love to all.

Phillips.

Arona, Lago Maggiore,

Sunday, August 12, 1866.

Deae William, — Last week I wrote from the
borders of the lake of Brienz. To-day you see I am
on an Italian lake, in a different atmosphere and
among a very different people. The traveler over
these Swiss passes is constantly changing back and
forth between two nations and climates, as different as
any to be conceived of. It was very striking, the
other day, as we came over the St. Gotthard. At two
o'clock we were in the midst of snow fields and icy
streams, bleak mountain tops and cold, bitter winds ;
then, as we began to descend, we came to sun, fruits,
and flowers, and at five o'clock were reveling in the
softest air and simniest sky, the roads were hemmed
in by endless vineyards, the girls were offering peaches
and apricots at the diligence window, and soft Ital-
ian words had taken the place in the lazy-looking
people's mouths of the harsher German.

Since last Simday I have crossed the lake of Brienz,
passed through the Brunig Pass to Lucerne, sailed
over its lake, the most picturesque in Switzerland,
climbed the Rigi, and spent the inevitable night there
among its swarming tourists (the smiset was glorious,
but the sun rose nobody knew when, for the dense
cloud). We then drove to Andermatt, where we
stopped to climb the Furca Pass and see the great
Glacier of the Rhone, over the St. Gotthard, and down
this noble lake to its southern point, whence I write
to you. There is a feeble band playing outside the

THUSIS. 133

hotel, a young' woman is walking across a vope over
the street, and all the ceremonies of a Sunday circus
are in full blast, to the great enjoyment of the popula-
tion, priests and all.

We shall spend a few days here among the lakes,
and then strike northward again. Our plans will be
regulated somewhat by the possibility which the very
unsettled state of affairs allows of our visiting more or
less of the Tyrol, but we hope to come out any way at
Munich, and get a day or two there before I return to
Paris to sail. To-day's newspaper brings the news
that the armistice is signed at last and peace must
follow soon. Mr. L. Napoleon, it seems, is cutting
in about those Rhine provinces, and will probably get
what he wants ; it is a way he has. . . .

I received a letter from you at Andermatt, and a
good one, too. Is Fred still with you ? I hope soon
to hear something about his plans. Is n't it f mmy, to
think that this is the last letter you will have any
chance to answer ? Good-night, no end of love to all.
Affectionately,

Phillips.

Thusis, Switzerland,
Sunday, August 19, 186G.

Dear Father, — I wrote the other day to Fred,
but I suppose that will not be allowed to pass for my
weekly letter. At any rate, as there are only two
more to write, I won't be mean, but give you the full
measure. We are beginning to see our way through
Switzerland now, and there are no broken heads or
legs. Last Sunday I wrote from the lower end of
lake Maoo'iore. Since then we have seen the lakes
Maggiore, Lvigano, and Como ; all of them, especially

134 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

tlie last, very beautiful. Indeed, in its own sort,
nothing- can be more lovely than lake Como. We
stayed one day at Bellagio on its eastern shore, and
then sailed down to Como, where we spent a night,
and then up to Colico near its head.

From here we drove over the Maloja Pass into the
upper Engadine, one of the most interesting- regions
of all Switzerland, peculiar in climate, scenery, and
customs. Their own description of their climate is
that they have " nine months winter and three months
cold," and as we entered their high table-land, out of
sunny Italy, we put on great-coats and buttoned up to
the chin against the bitter cold. The scenery is very
grand, hardly surpassed in the region of Mont Blanc or
Monte Rosa. We stopped at Pontresina, and from
there climbed the Piz Languard, the observatory
mountain of the district, and had snow-peak and gla-
cier views of surpassing grandeur to our hearts' con-
tent. Think of that, while you were sweltering in Bos-
ton dog-days. They call their language, down there,
the Ladein, and it comes nearer to the genuine old
Latin than anything else in existence. It was very in-
terestino-. There is a srreat bathing establislmient in
the Engadine, called St. Moritz, with lots of visitors,
among others, a Mr. G. McClellan, formerly an Amer-
ican general. I did not see him.

From Pontresina we drove over the Alps again by
the Julier Pass to Tiefenkasten, and from there
walked across one of the picturesque foot passes to
this little village on the banks of the infant Rhine, at
the gate of the great Splugen Pass. From here we
shall explore the Splugen and its wonderful Via Mala,
then go north by Zurich to Constance, through their
lakes, and so on to Mimich. From there a little trip

MUNICH. 135

into the Austrian Tyrol, then back to Paris, where I
hope to be three weeks from to-day. Four weeks
from yesterday my boat is on the shore, my bark is
on the sea, and my foreign travels will be over.

There has been a great deal of heavy rain in Swit-
zerland this year, but we have very happily escaped it
almost all. I remember only four rainy days. It
looks now a little as if it might be ugly weather to-
morrow.

No letters from home lately. Some more are or-
dered to Zurich, where I shall get them Wednesday
or Thursday. I hojje you are all well and begin to
have a sort of confidence that, as all has gone so cap-
itally so far, I shall have no disaj)pointment or bad
news for the rest of my time. I hojje you will have
as perfect a success when you come. The ExjDosition,
you know, is next summer.

Strong wishes to be remembered to you. I suppose
he will return to Paris with me.

Phillips.

Hotel Viekjahreszeiten, Munich,
Sunday, August 26, 18G6.

Deae Mother, — Here goes for my last letter but
one. If you have done such a foolish thing as to
keep any of my letters, you might find among them
one, almost a year back, dated from this same hotel
with the horrible name to it, where I am writing
now. How little time ago it seems ! But what a lot
has come in between. It was last October, and I
was just going to Vienna ; since then, all the East,
Italy, France, England, and now Switzeiland. Yes,
Switzerland is done, and except for the little glimpse

136 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

that I shall get of them in the beautiful Tyrol, I have
seen my last of the white hills. I look forward to
nothing afterwards but a quiet week of loafing in
Paris, and then the steamer. Two weeks after you
get this, I hope you will get me.

I foimd letters at Constance from William and Mr.
Coffin. William's was from that paradise on the
seashore where they all went this smnmer. They
seem to be having a splendid time, and not to envy
even Switzerland. I do not wonder that they enjoyed
it, for they had sufficiently varied materials for a very
pleasant party. I am glad that Fred was with them,
and was not rector of anything up to that date. I
dare not hope that such a state of things will last
long, but it makes me think that I may possibly find
him not yet emigrated to any of the ends of the earth
when I get back.

The great item of home news in the two last let-
ters is one that interests me deeply. Bridget has
gone ! You only state the bald fact, but give no
particulars about her successor, as if it were not a
matter of profound interest, even to an occasional
visitor mider the home roof. I do not care what her
name is, but what can she do ? Has she any power
to create those particular home dishes that have never
been seen anywhere else ? Or is she some new
person, who will introduce another order of things,
and serve up the same round of endless stuff that one
gets everywhere besides ? Remember, I insist on
flapjacks and fishballs. As to Bridget, she never was
a cheerful person ; rather glum and solemn, not a
sunshiny picture to have about the house ; and her
flapjacks for the last few years were nothing to what
they were, a trifle clammy and heavy ; so that I will

PARIS. 137

not shed any tears over her departure, but hope the
new-comer may beat her all hollow.

If this seems a foolish letter to send over the seas,
just turn to my exceedingly sensible one, which I
have no doubt I wrote last year, and read all you
want to know about Mu^nich. What 's the use of
writing when I can tell you all in four weeks?
Good-by. Love to everybody.

Phillips.

Grand Hotel, Paris, September 6, 1866.
Dear William, — In answer to your last letter,
here comes mine, written in a great hurry, at the last
moment; you see I am so lazy, this farewell week in
Paris, that I have not time for anything. My work
is over, and I am just sitting here like a fellow who
runs over the index of the book he has been reading,
to see this epitome of all Europe and of aU the
world, — the cosmopolitan city, sparkling, beautif id
Paris. But you will be here some day and see it for
yourseK, so what 's the use of telling you ? Since I
wrote from Munich, I have roamed down into the
Tyrol and back again, and seen there some of the
most picturesque of scenery and life. Then I put
right off for here, where I shall stay till a week from
to-morrow morning, when I take the train for a
sixteen hours' ride to Brest, and then on Saturday
afternoon go aboard the Ville de Paris, Captain
Saumon, for New York. I shall get out of New
York by the earliest conveyance for Boston, and
probably be with you some time on the 26th or 27th.
The last trip of the steamer from New York took a
little over nine days. We shall be likely, at this
season, to be a little slower, but you shaU see me as

138 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD.

soon as I can get over to Boston. Will you not drop
a line to New York and tell them to send tlie
"Nation" to Philadelphia?

So good-by. When you hear the doorbell ring at
No. 41, some time week after next, if you don't
make haste to let me in, I will give it to you.

Your affectionate brother, Phill.

IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND.

1870.

Steamkr Hammonia, Thursday, July 7, 1870.

Dear Father, — It rains to-day, and is very wet,
miserable, and disagreeable, tlie second bad day we
have had on our voyage. One cannot go on deck
without getting wet through and his eyes full of cin-
ders. The cabin is crowded and close, and I have
slept and read till I cannot sleep or read any more ;
so you see it is time to begin to write home, and
report myself.

We got off safely on Tuesday, the 28th, punctually
at two o'clock. Monda}'^ night I spent at Potter's,
and we went up to Thomas's Gardens and heard mu-
sic. Mr. and Mrs. Franks met me at the station, but
I suppose you have seen them before this. We were
a queer set who sailed together, not many Americans,
— Germans, Italians, Mexicans, Danes, and all sorts of
people. It makes a very interesting ship's company.
There are a lot of Jews ; nobody except Dr. Derby
and his wife and the Mason family, whom I ever saw
before. The ship is a good one, not equal in size or
speed to the Cunard or French steamers, but more
convenient in some respects.

We have had a splendid passage, only two rainy
days ; most of the time clear, bright, sunny weather,
and now moonlight nights. Being a screw steamer,
she rolls pretty badly. I have been perfectly well

140 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND.

and enjoyed it immensely. We shall be rather later
than I expected; probably reach Plymouth some time
to-morrow night, and Cherbourg Saturday morning.
I shall go to Paris on Saturday night, and reach
there about four o'clock on Sunday morning. I will
mail this at Plymouth, and your getting it will show
you that I am so far safe. You probably will have
seen the ship reported by telegraph. It has been a
most propitious beginning for my little trip.

I wonder what has happened at home since I left.
Be sure and write me everything ; write every week,
some of you. I hope you are off to Niagara before
this. Love all around.

Affectionately your son, Phillips.

COURMAYEUR, ItALY,

Sunday, July 17, 1810.

Dear Mother, — I have not written since I landed,
of which I am a little ashamed, but I have been very
busy, and it has been hard to find a place to write in.
But here I am, on Sunday afternoon, sitting on the
gallery of this queer hotel, in this funny old Italian
town, on the south side of the Alps. In front is a
tremendous mountain, with a great glacier upon its
face, and at the foot an old square tower with a
peaked roof, which may have been a fortress, but is
now a house full of beggars ; and in the street in front
there is a crowd of people chattering a vile language
which is half Italian and half French. This mornin<r
I went to the English service here and heard a j^retty
good sermon. This afternoon I thought I would
rather write to you.

When I wrote to father we were still on the Ham-
monia. She reached Plymouth on Friday afternoon,

COURMAYEUR. 1-11

the 8th of July, and we landed a few passengers and
then sailed to Cherbourg, where we arrived very early
Saturday morning, the 9th. I landed about five o'clock,
and the steamer went on to Hamburg. From Cher-
bourg it was a ride of all day by train to Paris, from
eight A. M. to six p. m. The first part of the ride
was through a country wholly new to me and very in-
teresting, — Normandy, with its quaint people, towns,
and splendid cathedrals ; Bayeux and Caen, and so on.
I stayed over Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday in Paris,
made some purchases, and enjoyed the life of the won-
derful gay eity. Then I rode all Tuesday night by rail
to Geneva, where I met Cooper, and our Alpine trip
began. First we drove to Chamounix and looked Mont
Blanc in the face, from the side where I have seen him
before. He was good enough to be perfectly clear,
and we saw him splendidly.

The next morning we started, and had a hard day's
tramp over the Col de Voza and through two of the
great vallej^s of the Mont Blanc range, with magnifi-
cent views all the way, and spent the night way up in
the heart of the hills at a mountain chalet, where the
cows and sheep had the lower story and we had the
upper. It smelt of them a little, and we heard their
bells, but the beds were good and we were very tired.
The next morning we set out at five o'clock, and
walked thirty-three miles over three high passes, across
snow and rocks, and finally through the Allee Blanche,
the great gorge behind Mont Blanc, with its tremen-
dous dome and its pinnacles and great rocky wall
towering over us. It was splendid beyond all descrijD-
tion. We reached here at ten o'clock well tired out,
and to-day are resting. From here we go on to Aosta ;
then across the St. Theodule Pass to Zermatt, and

142 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND.

shall spend next Siuiday probably at Andermatt on
the St. Gotthard Pass.

I have engaged passage home by the Ville de Paris,
to sail on the 10th of September from Brest ; the same
steamer in which I returned before.

Everywhere there are rumors of wars about the
Spanish business, but for three days we have been out
of reach of telegraph and cannot know anything of
their truth. Please tell father that I bought some
bronzes in Paris, and ask him to pay the charges on
the box and keep it for me.

I have none of your letters yet, and shall not have
any for a week or more ; but do keep writing. I
hope that you have been to Niagara. Good-by, love
to all. Phillips.

Andermatt, July 24, 1870.

Deae William, — I wonder what you have all been
about at home since I left you at the Worcester sta-
tion four weeks ago to-morrow morning. I have not
heard a word yet, and shall not get letters till to-mor-
row night, when we reach Coire, to which place I have
ordered letters sent. I hope you are all well and
having a pleasant smnmer. Last Smiday I wrote to
mother from Courmayeur in Italy. Since then we
have had a week of splendid weather and constant
movement.

First, we rode down the beautiful valley of Aosta
to Chatillon through vineyards, Italian towns, and
very hot Italian roads. Tuesday we climbed up the
steep and ugly valley of Val Tournanche and slept at
Breuil, under the shadow of the splendid Matterhorn.
Wednesday we crossed from Italy to Switzerland again
by the glacier pass of St. Theodule, between the

ANDERMATT. 143

Matterliorn and Monte Rosa, with great views of both
and a hundred giants besides, and descended to Zer-
matt. Thursday we came down from Zermatt to the
valley of the Rhone, and slept at Fiesch ; Friday we
climbed the Eggishorn, one of the most magnificent
points of view in all Switzerland, commanding the
Jungfrau and its big neighbors and the great Aletsch
Glacier (the longest in Switzerland), the Matterhorn,
and Mont Blanc. Yesterday we came over the Furca
Pass, close beside the great Rhone Glacier, out of
which the mighty river starts, and reached this quiet
little German-Swiss village on the St. Gotthard road
yesterday evening.

It is a lovely day, and it is good to rest for twenty-
four hours. To-morrow we are oft: for a ramble through
northeast Switzerland, and shall bring up next Sunday
at Ober-Ammergau for the great Miracle Play. When
that is over, I shall have five weeks still for a jour-
ney in the Tyrol before I go back to Paris to sail for
home.

Meanwhile, there is war in Europe, the most unne-
cessary and wicked of wars that ever was made. France
has been insolent and arrogant beyond herself. It
probabl}'- will be short and severe. A troop of soldiers
just passed by the hotel. Switzerland, of course, is
neutral, but is arming her borders. We have been
out of the way of the war as yet, and probably shall
not see much of it.

Do write me how everything goes on at home and
at the church. Give my love to Mary, and to all at
home. Affectionately, Phill.

144 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND.

IscHL, Austria, July 31, 1870.

Dear Father, — You have written me twice, and
well deserve that this Sunday's letter should go to
you. This Ischl is the great watering-place of Austria.
Here the Emperor has his summer palace, and the
great Vienna swells come hither to be under the
shadow of his magnificence. Of course we Ameri-
cans come, too, to see the fun. Besides this, it is
one of the most beautiful spots on the face of the
earth. It is at the junction of five of the most
lovely wild Tyrolese valleys, and is a pretty little
open piece of plain with two bright streams running
through it.

We were at Andermatt last Sunday. We crossed
the Oberalp on Monday, a long day's ride to Coire.
There we spent a day, making a visit to the famous
baths of Pfiiffers. From Coire we went by the lake
of Constance and by rail to a quiet little Bavarian
town, called Kempten. Here we heard what we had
rumors of before, that the great Ober-Ammergau
Passion Play was given up on account of the war,
several of the principal characters having been drafted
into the Bavarian army. This was a disappointment,
for it was one of the great things which I had hoped
to see in coming abroad. On Thursday we pushed
on to Munich. Friday morning I saw at Munich a
great mass in the cathedral on behalf of the German
side of the war. The King and all his court were
present. Bavaria seems very enthusiastic on the
German side. From Munich on Friday afternoon to
Salzburg, the most picturesque of towns, where I had
been five years ago, but was very glad to be again.
Yesterday the loveliest ride, first by rail to the head of
the Traun See ; then a beautif id sail down the lake,

MALNITZ. 145

and a ride of two hours up the valley of the Traun
River to Austria, and here we are.

The preparations for war go on. They interfere
with us only so far as money is concerned. At
Munich we had to lose eight per cent, on a draft
on Paris. We have had no disappointment yet,
except Ober-Ammergau. The Masons are here. I
saw the Morrills at Munich. Your letters received up
to July 9th. Now we go out of reach of letters for
several weeks. I am very well. Love to all.

Affectionately, Phill.

Malnitz, August 7, 1870.
Dear Mother, — I think you will not find this
town on any map at home. Indeed, it is not easy to
find when one is very close to it, for it is hidden
away among mountains of the biggest kind, and is the
littlest sort of a town itself. Besides this Hotel of
the Chamois, where we are staying, and the church,
which, like all the churches of this region, seems
unreasonably large for the population, there is not
another good-sized building in the village. The streets
are sheep-paths, and there is not a vehicle in the
town. But the scenery is gorgeous, and the simple
ways of the people are very interesting. Yesterday,
we walked over a high mountain pass from Bad Gas-
tein. It is a rough and steep road, with a good deal
of snow, etc. All along the road were little shrines,
put up where men at dangerous parts of the year had
lost their lives by avalanches or falls, with rude pic-
tures of the accident, and an address to the Virgin,
and a horrible religious painting or carving of some
sort. The people are very religious and very hos-
pitable. It is quite pretty, the way they bless you

146 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND.

and kiss your hand wlien you go away, particularly if
you have paid them well.

To be sure, their bread is dreadful, and their meat
is cooked in fearfid and wonderful ways ; but there is
plenty of good milk and splendid beer everywhere,
and eggs and trout abound ; you always walk enough
to be hungry for any food. The beds are short,
and the bedclothes shorter, but one gets along with
a supplementary shawl and plenty of fatigue ; and
the mountains, lakes, meadows and waterfalls, are
glorious. We have had a splendid week. Monday
and Tuesday we spent among the lakes of the Salz-
kammergut, the region about Ischl. There are a score
of them, all beautiful, shut in by mountains, which
you cross from one to another ; and there is always a
Tyrolese girl, ready to take her boat and row you
across to start on for another.

Wednesday, we took a carriage, and for two days
drove through the valley of the Salza, till, far up
among the hills, we came to the very beautiful water-
ing place of the Austrians, Bad Gastein. It is lovely
as a dream, — just a deep mountain gorge with a
wild cataract plunging down through it, and splendid
mountains towering above ; mineral baths, which are
very pleasant. Yesterday, we walked across the moun-
tains, partly in the rain, spending two hours, while it
was pouring, far up in a chalet, where they were
making Swiss cheese in the dirtiest and most pictur-
esque hole you ever saw. This is the first untimely
rain that we have had. This next week will be our
finest mountain week.

The war goes on, but we only hear of it by occa-
sionally seeing a week-old paper at some country inn.
I hope it will not interfere with my getting to Paris

MERAN. 147

and sailing on the lOtli of September. That is my
selfish view of it.

I shall not hear yet for three weeks, but then expect
a batch of letters. I hope you are all well. Love
to all. Affectionately your son,

Phillips.

Meran, Tyrol, August 14, 1870.

Dear Fred, — I have been meaning to write you
ever since I came abroad ; especially, I had a notion of
writing to you on your birthday, the glorious 5th, but
the mountains were too many for me, and every night
I was so tired that I was fain to get into my uncom-
fortable little Dutch bed as soon as possible. I warn
you beforehand, that you will have an awful time
with the beds when you come into these parts. You
and I are too long. 1 have just escaped, from a bed
at this untimely hour on Sunday morning, because
I could not stretch out straight, or make the narrow
bedclothes come over me, and that 's the reason why
at this present moment I come to be writing to you.

I have had. five glorious weeks of Switzerland and
the Tyrol, Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa, the Matterhorn,
the Jungfrau, the Grossglockner, and the Marmo-
lata. I have seen them all face to face, had splendid
weather, walked myself into good condition, found the
people interesting and amusing everywhere, and met
with only one disappointment. That was in the giving
up of the great Miracle Play at Ober-Ammergau, on
account of the war, just before we reached there. It
was a great disappointment, for one can never have
another chance, and every one who saw it speaks of it
as very wonderful.

For the last three weeks we have been in the Tyrol.

148 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND.

I like the people immensely, especially in south
Tyrol ; they seem to me to be the most cheerful, in-
dustrious, hospitable peasantry in Europe. There is
a pleasant mixture of Italian and German in their
character, as there is in their language, look, and
dress. They have very pleasant ways of doing things.
It is pleasant, instead of the horrible gong which
bangs away at Alliance or Crestline, or the blowsy
Irishman who howls at you, " Dinner 's ready," to
have a rosy, neat Tyrolese girl, as she puts down
a dish of soup, wish you, " May you dine well," and
as she gives you a candle at night say, " May God
give you good sleep," and as she takes your fee at
leaving, kiss your hand and wish you "lucky jour-
ney." To be sure, the soup is often bad, and the
bread ahnost always horrible, in the little out of the
way inns, but their dreadfulness is made more toler-
able by the people's pretty ways. It is embarrassing
to happen to sneeze in a group of people ; every hat
comes off, and the " God bless you's " are showered
down in a distressing way.

Off here in the hills, we hear only stray rumors of
the terrible war. The great battle of last week, with
its miexpected defeat of the French, has thrown all
Europe into tumult, of which we get only the echoes.
In two weeks I am going to Paris. What I shall find
there I do not know ; unless better fortune comes to
retrieve him. Napoleon must be shaken, and probably
overthrown. There is a sort of revolution already in
Paris. What a blessed thing for us, that big ocean
between us and all this sort of thing ! I wish you
could be here this Sunday morning. Cleveland is
pretty, but this is prettier. A lovely old valley, with
vineyards at its bottom, and running up to the very

BORMIO. 149

tops of the high hills that shut it in. Old castles and
modern chateaux looking- down from every side, and
in the midst this queer old town, with peasants in
their picturesque Sunday clothes, strolling back and
forth over the bridge that crosses the little Adige, and
an Italian sky and sunlight over everything.

What a good time we had in Boston those last two
days. Can't you come on in September, when Arthur
will be there ? I hope we shall have many Sundays
together as that last in June. Good-by, and good
luck to you always. Affectionately,

Phillips.

BoRMio, August 21, 1870.

Dear Father, — I have received a letter from
you this week, written July 26, the second that has
reached me. The mails seem to be deranged, and it
is not strange. I have written once a week to some
of you ever since I landed. I hope long before this
the stream has begun to flow, and you have received
my letters regularly. This week we have been finish-
ing the Tyrol. From Meran to Innsbruck, where we
spent a day ; then over the Finsternumtz and Stelvio
passes, the last the grandest in Europe, till we came
yesterday evening to this little Italian town, as pretty
a spot as there is to find anywhere. We have had a
little rain, but generally good weather, and a splendid
time always.

Hence we go through a bit of Switzerland, and
gradually work up to Paris. How we shall get there
I hardly know, or what we shall find when we are
there ; but I apprehend no difficulty, and certainly
no danger for a couple of peaceful travelers like our-
selves. We are getting a little more into the way of

150 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND.

news now, and can regulate our movements better.
The one clear opinion seems to be, that somehow the
war points to an overthrow and end of Napoleon.
The disappointment and mortification of the French
at their great defeat seems to be terrible, and the state
of things in Paris for a few days was most alarming.
Things are qviieter now, but only wait for the next
struggle, which must be a frightfid one.

We meet no Americans ; indeed, we have not seen
a person we know for three weeks. Probably, as we
get more into Switzerland, we shall find our country-
men there.

So old No. 41 is down, and the new store is going
up. It made me quite blue to hear of it; the world
changes sadly, even our little bit of it, but we cer-
tainly had a good time in the old house for many
years.

To-morrow I hope to get more letters. Three weeks
from yesterday I sail for home ; may God bless and
keep you all. Phillips.

Hotel d'Orient, Paris, August 28, 1870.

Dear Mother, — We are at last in Paris, after a
long week's doubt whether w^e should be able to get
here. We arrived this morning at eight o'clock, after
a seventeen hours' ride from Geneva. We met with
no detention further than having to wait here and
there for trains loaded with cattle and provisions for
the army. No Prussians stoj)ped our way, and though
it has been officially announced that the government
has taken possession of the road, the order has not yet
gone into effect, and passenger trains run regularly
through.

We have seen nothing here to-day to indicate that

PARIS. 151

the city is under martial law, that the Prussians are
only two or three days distant, and by all reports in
full march for the fortifications. There are many sol-
diers about, but the streets are emptier and stiller
than I have ever seen them in Paris, and though there
may be a row at any point at any moment, there cer-
tainly was never a more peaceful and safe-looking
city. What the real state of things is, it is very hard
to tell. That the Prussian army is advancing on
Paris, everybody seems to believe. The French papers
say that it is a movement of desperation. The Prus-
sians call it the march of a victor. Meanwhile, the
mystery which envelops the condition and intentions
of the French armies at Metz and Rlieims leaves one
utterly in the dark. Whatever comes, there seems no
probability of any danger to a stranger living here,
and I intend now to stay till a week from next Thurs-
day or Friday, when I shall go to Brest, to sail the
following Saturday. What we may have a chance to
see in the mean time in Paris, we cannot say. You
will hear by the telegraph before you get this, but be
sure that I will take good care of myself and shall not
be in any danger.

We have come this week from Bormio, where I
wrote last Sunday, by Tirano, an Italian town in the
midst of its vineyards, over the Bernina Pass to Pon-
tresina, in the midst of its glaciers, then over the
Albula Pass to Chur, on by rail to Zurich, thence
to Berne, where we had to stop to get our passports
viseed by the French minister for admission into
France, thence to Geneva, and so here. This ends
our mountain work, almost seven weeks of as perfect
and successful a trip as we could ask. Everything
has gone well; no accident, no sickness, and scarcely

152 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND.

any bad weather. I am thankful I came, and now ten
interesting- days of Paris will complete the journey,
except the voyage home in the Ville de Paris, which I
expect to enjoy exceedingly. Why cannot you time
your Niagara trip so as to meet me at the ship on
Wednesday, the 21st, or Thursday, the 22d, of Sep-
tember.

I had letters at Pontresina from you and father,
which did me good. I have missed a nrmaber of your
letters, and was rejoiced to get these. I also had one
from Arthur about his ordination. Please write liim
immediately that I will gladly come to Williamsport
and preach the old sermon any time in October, if he
can arrange it so that the whole trip can come in
between two Sundays.

It is cold and cheerless here to-day. I hope we are
to have better weather for the gay city, which is bound
to be gay, even if it is besieged. Love to all.

Affectionately always, Phillips.

Paris, September 5, 1870.

Dear William, — I write a line, which will prob-
ably not get home before I do, but I may be detained,
and this will tell you that I am well and coming.
Yesterday was too busy and exciting a day to write.
As the telegraph will have told you, there was a blood-
less revolution and we went to bed last night under a
Republic. I saw the whole thing, and was much in-
terested in seeing how they make a Government here.
You can have no conception of the excitement in
Paris all day.

I shall leave here to-morrow or Wednesday for
Havre, and sail thence on Friday morning. There
has been some difficulty in getting out of Paris, but I

PARIS. 153

do not anticipate any this week. Still, at the very
last there may be something to hinder, and even
shoidd the Ville de Paris arrive without me, do not
be worried, but know that I will turn up soon.
Good-by, love to all. Vive la Republique !

Phillips.

SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

1872.

Stkamship Palmyra, July 5, 1872.

Dear Father, — The voyage is almost over. To-
morrow morning we shall be at Queenstown, where
I think we shall land, to go by Cork and Dublin to
London. It will be pleasanter and quicker, and prob-
ably get us to London on Sunday morning. (The
ship rolls so that I cannot write straight.) We have
had a very quiet passage, not much bright weather,
but nothing rough to speak of. DviU skies almost all
the way, with a good deal of rain. The ship is a very
good and stanch little boat, rather slow, but still mak-
ing steady headway, and as comfortable as she could
be with her rather limited acconunodations. Paine
and I have found our stateroom exceedingly comfort-
able, and with a few pleasant people on board, the
time has passed briskly. I wonder how Fred has got
along? His steamer must be not very far behind us,
and I expect to see him in London by Tuesday. I
shall be there with him until Friday, the 12th, when
we sail to Christiania. We expect to reach there on
the 16th, and then shall be off for four weeks on a
country trip in Norway. Paine will go with me.

. . . On Sunday, we had a sermon from an English
minister, whose presence saved me from preaching.
It was a lovely day, the finest we have had.

The voyage has been a very pleasant rest, and I

LONDON. 155

shall be ready for an active summer when we land.
Some people get dreadfully wearied of the sea, but I
find ever}^ moment of it pleasant, and never feel in
better health or spirits anywhere.

I hope that you are going to have a pleasant
summer. Do spend a good part of it in writing to
me. I shall look anxiously for my budget of letters
every week, care of Jay Cooke, McCuUoch & Co.,
London.

I will write again from London after I meet Fred.
My love to mother and all. Tell me what they are
doing, and tell them all to write.

Phillips.

London, July 9, 1872.

Dear Mother, — I will begin a letter to you, now
that I have a leisure moment, while I am waiting for
Fred, who reported himself at the hotel this morning
when I was out, and has not yet returned. So he has
arrived, but I have not seen him yet. I wrote to
father just before we landed from the Palmyra. We
went to Cork and spent some hours there, and drove
out to Blarney Castle, through some of the loveliest
country that you can imagine. It was a glorious day,
and we enjoyed it hugely ; then we took the train to
Dublin, crossed the Irish Channel to Holyhead, a beau-
tiful sail of five hours, and then a long night's ride by
rail brought us to London, where we arrived at six
o'clock on Sunday morning.

Sunday I went to hear Stopford Brooke, at St.
James's Chapel in the morning, and Dean Stanley
at Westminster Abbey in the afternoon. It was a
beautiful day. Monday morning we went down town
to the bankers, and then to the picture galleries,

156 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

and in the afternoon drove in Hyde Park to see the
swells. We engaged passage on the Oder for Chris-
tiania, which sails next Friday morning. We shall
arrive there on Monday evening, the 15th. We also
engaged passage on the Thuringia from Hamburg
for New York on September 11. To-day we have
been sight-seeing, — the great South Kensington Mu-
seum and the International Exhibition with the new
Memorial, which has just been oj)ened, having been
built by Queen Victoria in memory of Prince Albert.
It is a very gorgeous and beautiful affair.

Wednesday Evening, July 10, 1872.

Just here Frederick turned up, and from that time
to this I have had his company. He is well, has
enjoyed his voyage very much, and takes to traveling
like a fish. He and I have scoured London to-day,
called on the Archbishoj) of Canterbury, examined
the British Museum and Westminster Abbey, visited
Hyde Park, and this evening we have been to a con-
cert at the splendid new Albert Hall. He means if
possible to return with us in the Thuringia, but there
is some uncertainty about getting staterooms. We
shall know in a week or so.

So the two great family trips are launched for the
summer, and promise to go on well. You shall hear
from point to point how we are faring. I do not feel
as if these few days in London were really a jjart of it,
and shall not think that we are fairly beginning until
we are aboard the steamer for Christiania to-morrow
night. London seems too familiar, and, with all its
strangeness, a little too much like home to be really
abroad. It has gi'own enormously since I was here in
1865, and is simply too big to know much about in

LILLEHAMMER. 157

two or three years, so that two or three days in it
go for very little.

I am sorry to see what hot weather you have been
having in Boston. I hope it is only the working off
of heat for the whole summer, and that you will
have it cool the rest of the time. Here the weather
is delicious, — bright, cool, sunshiny days that quite
disappoint one's ordinary expectations of London.

Already I begin to feel how good it will be to
get home.

LiLLEHAMMER, NORWAY, July 16, 1872.

Dear William, — I have written to you in the
course of our correspondence from many queer places,
but perhaps this to-night is the queerest of them all.
It is the neatest, triggest, cosiest little Norwegian inn,
one day's journey from Christiania, just set in among
the momitains at the head of lake Mjosen. The peo-
ple in the courtyard under the windows are jabbering
Norwegian and getting the horses ready for our cari-
oles, which set out to-morrow morning at half past
five. It is half past nine o'clock in the evening, and
broad daylight, so that a candle would be an absurdity.
Last night at Christiania, I literally read a letter in
the street at eleven o'clock, as you would at noon in
Boston.

But I must go back. Last Thursday evening I
left Frederick in London, and went on board the
steamer Oder for Christiania, which sailed the next
morning at four o'clock. We had a pleasant little
voyage of three days and a half across the North Sea
and up the Skager Rack, touching on Sunday morn-
ing at Christiansand, and arriving on Monday at
Christiania. The steamer was good, the sea smooth,

158 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

and all went very pleasantly. The sail along the Nor-
wegian coast and up the Christiania Fiord was very
beautiful. At Christiania, which is a very pretty,
pleasant place, we spent yesterday, got our carioles,
which are the j oiliest-looking traps you can imagine,
this morning took them on the train, and then on the
boat upon the lake to this village. To-morrow morn-
ing we mount them for our first drive into the country.
I wish that you could see us pass. Much more, I
wish there were a third cariole, and you were in it.

I wonder how Fred comes on. He seemed to be
having a good time. I went with him to several of
the great sights of London, which he appeared to en-
joy, and was in good health and spirits. I hope he
will find some companion for the Continent, for I am
afraid he will be a little homesick sometimes, if he
does not. He hopes to return with us in the Thurin-
gia from Havre, September 14.

Will you do something for me ? Will you go and
see Mr. James T. Fields, and ask him (as I shall be
rather later than I expected in getting home) to put
my lecture on English Literature as late in the course
as possible ? — at the very end if he can. I think he
will have no trouble in doins;' it.

No letters from you yet. I hope many are on the
way, but we shall not get them till we come to Bergen
some time next week ; but do keep on writing, and
tell all the news, little and great. I hope you are
having a pleasant summer. . . .

Affectionately,

Phillips.

AAK. 159'

Aak, Nokway, July 22, 1872.

Dear Father, — We have been spending Sunday
at this remote little place in the mountains, at the
mouth of the Romsdaal Valley, which is one of the
most remarkable gorges in Norway. We came here
in a three days' journey from Lillehammer, whence I
wrote to William last Wednesday. The traveling is
very odd. We have our own carioles, which we took
with us from Christiania, having hired them for a
month. In these we travel about fifty miles a day.
The cariole is a sort of sulky, something like a
country doctor's chaise, with just room for one person
and a place to strap on a valise behind. The roads
have stations every ten miles or so, where the people
are obliged to furnish you a change of horse, which
you take on to the next station. A small boy goes
perched on the baggage behind to bring the horse
back. In this way we are always changing horses.
I have driven some twenty or thirty already, mostly
strong, willing little brutes, who make very good time
and do not seem to mind my overweight. The road
has been very beautiful ; last evening's ride, espe-
cially, was most magnificent, through the gorge of
Eomsdaal. There is nothing in Switzerland like it.
Our weather has been generally excellent, with occa-
sional showers which have not hurt us, nor delayed us
much. It is a land where it makes not the slightest
difference when you travel, for it is broad daylight
aU night, being literally light enough to read easily in
the open air at midnight. The only trouble is to get
to sleep at night with the daylight in the room,
and to keep asleep in the morning.

This morning we walked about three miles to a
Norwegian country church, and attended service there.

160 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

It was very interesting. The little cliiircli was
crowded and tlie service was full of spirit. The ser-
mon was dreadfully long, at least to us who listened
to it as foreigners, and did not understand a word.
After service there was a baptism of two babies, and
then the catechising of the girls and boys of the
parish — funny little folks they were ! The people all
belong to the Lutheran church, which is the Estab-
lished Church of the Kingdom. They are a most
thrifty, decent, poverty-stricken people, perfectly
honest, and not at all handsome.

I wish that you could see the view as I look out of
my window. The valley is completely shut in by
mountains of the most gigantic size, and splendid
in their shapes. A beautiful green river runs down
through it, and the fields in the bottom of the valley
are green and rich. A pair of carioles has just driven
up to the little inn door, and the people are chat-
tering in Norse about rooms and suppers in the
most excited way.

To-morrow morning we take a little steamer very
early to go to Molde, down one of the most beautiful
fiords ; then we shall keep down the coast to Bergen,
exploring the fiords as we go along; from Bergen
back across the country to Christiania, where we
shall be in about three weeks ; then to Stockhohn,
St. Petersburg, Moscow, Copenhagen, Hamburg; and
then home. Nothing from Fred ; you have heard
from him of course. Love to all.

Most affectionately yours, Phillips.

STEAMER FJALIR. IGl

Steamer Fjalik, on the Nokd Fiokd, Norway,
July 25, 1872.

Dear Mother, — It is a rainy forenoon on a steam-
boat, and there is nothing- pleasanter than to sit in the
little cabin and write my weekly letter to you, although
it is before its time. We are on our way to Bergen,
running- down one of the countless fiords that cut up
the coast of Norway into slices. Last Sunday after-
noon, I wrote to father from Aak, at the foot of the
Romsdaal Valley. Monday morning, we drove in our
carioles down to the head of the Molde Fiord, and
there, carioles and all, went on a boat, and sailed,
in the midst of the grandest scenery, to Molde, where
we stopped a couple of hours and dined on salmon
and lobster, which are about the only things that
grow along this coast. Both are superb. That after-
noon, we sailed along the coast to Aalsund, a little
village with a most lovely situation, which is famous
for nothing except the cod-liver oil which they make
there. We passed the night in short beds, and the
next day sailed up the Stor Fiord and its branch, the
Geiranger Fiord, which is called the grandest in
Norway. It is certainly magnificent. The narrow
arm of the sea, with bright green water, is shut in
between perpendicular cliffs of granite, two or three
thousand feet high, over which countless waterfalls
come tumbling down in every conceivable shape. The
stillness and wildness is wonderfully impressive. We
spent that night at a little group of fishermen's huts,
and slept in a schoolhouse, because the inn, which only
has six beds, was full. We called on the Pastor of
the place, and spent an hour with him. He is the
only educated man of the whole region, and was very
hospitable and conversible, speaking very tolerable

162 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

English. Yesterday morning, we put the wheels on
our carioles again, and drove all day across the coun-
try, through magnificent scenery, to a little inn called
Faleide, on this Fiord, where last night we took the
boat for Bergen. The cabin is full of Norwegians,
talliing their unintelligible tongue. There is one Ger-
man family from Hamburg, who are pleasant people,
and with whom, between their English and our
German, we get along very well. To-morrow noon
we reach Bergen, and there I hope to get my first
letters from you all. After a day or two, we start
again into the country, and spend two weeks more
before we come back to Christiania. About the 12tli
of August we leave Christiania for Sweden, going to
Stockholm. On the 22d we go to St. Petersburg and
Moscow, returning the first week in September. We
sail from St. Petersburg by Lubec to Copenhagen,
and thence go down to Hamburg and take the Thu-
ringia, either there on the 11th, or at Havre on the
14th. So all goes well. I am having a splendid
time. This rain, I have no doubt, will clear up to-
morrow, and with much love to all, I am alwaj^s
Affectionately yours,

Phillips,

Steamer between Bergen and Christiania,
July 27, 1872.

Since I wrote the inclosed sheet, our plans have
changed. . . . Paine has been called home. We are
now on our way to Christiania, and he will stop on his
way at Christiansand, go thence to Hamburg, and so
home by next week's steamer. I shall go to Chris-
tiania, to take back our carioles and close up things
there. I am not quite sure what I shall do after-

STOCKHOLM. 163

wards ; probably go to Sweden, and tlienoe cross into
Russia, and come home by way of some of the north-
ern German cities.

We are having- quite a royal progress to-day. Prince
Oscar, brother of the king, is on board, and at every
town where we stop, there is a boisterous welcome and
farewell. Good-by again, and write often.

Hotel Eydbeeg, Stockholm, August 4, 1872.
Dear William, — The stream of communication
this summer seems to flow all one way. Since father's
letter, dated just a montli ago to-day, there is not a
word fiom my beloved family, or anybody else in
America. I hope they are well, but either they have
not written, or Jay Cooke is faithless, or I have
been running about too fast for letters to catch me.
I hope Fred has been more fortunate than I. Here I
am now in Stockholm, one of the nicest, brightest,
gayest looking cities I have ever seen. I am very
much delighted with it. It runs all about over a
quantity of islands, in Venetian sort of style, and little
bits of steamboats go racing back and forth. The peo-
ple are bright and good-looking, and there are gardens
and cafes everywhere. Friday evening, I went to the
Deer Park to a concert, and the whole scene was as
pretty as anything in Paris or Vienna. After I wrote
last week, I came back to Christiania, and thence
sailed down to Gottenburg, and thence by the Gotha
canal here. It was a lovely day on the canal, and the
scenery was very pretty. Yesterday, I went to Uj)sala,
where is the great Swedish university, the old cathe-
dral, and the oldest relics of their history. Under
three great mounds, their Odin, Thor, and Freia are
said to be buried.

164 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

To-morrow morning, I am going off to Gottland,
wliere there are some strange old relics o£ architec-
ture, and the whole place is said to be very picturesque
and curious. It is a trip of two or three days, and
then I come back here. After that, probably to Rus-
sia, where I expect to arrive next Sunday.

There are very few Americans in these parts, — a
good many English, and lots of Swedes. I like the
Swedes very much. They are brighter and more
cheerful than the Norwegians, and very kind and will-
ing to oblige. The covmtry seems prosjaerous and
happy. The environs of Stockholm are beautiful.
Come here, and look at this pretty town, when you
bring Mary and Agnes to Europe.

I hope they are well, and that you are not having
the absurdly hot weather with which you began the
smnmer. Already, we are within sight of the end
of it. How strange it will seem to be settled down
again to the old round for another winter. Paine is
on his voyage home by this time. I suppose you
may see him before this reaches you. If you have
not written to me, pray write, and if you have written,
write again, Phillips.

Abo, Fikland, August 10, 1872.

Dear Father, — Did you ever get a letter from
Finland ? If not, then here comes your first. I write
in the sincere belief that I am answering some letters
of yours, although I have not received them. Some-
how, I have missed everything since your letters of
July 4tli. I hope nothing important has happened
since that time. If there has, I do not know where I
shall hear of it. Perhaps at St. Petersburg, whither
I am bound now. But I must wait patiently. I left

ABO. 165

Stockliolin yesterday morning, in the steamer Con-
stantin, at two o'clock.

Steamers have an uncomfortable habit of starting
at that hour all over these parts. The boat is excel-
lent; all sorts of languages, Kussian, Swedish, Fin-
nish, French, and German, are chattering around me.
There are also three or four Englishmen on board.
To-day's sail has been exquisite, wandering through
the islands of which this part of the Baltic is full,
with views continually changing, and all pretty. At
five this afternoon we came to Abo, at the mouth
of the Gulf of Finland, and there we lie to-night.
Tlie steamers always lie by until two in the morning.
To-morrow, we wind up the gulf among the islands.
To-morrow night at Helsingfors, Sunday night at
Vyborg, and Monday noon, the 12th, at St. Peters-
burg. The Fins are a good, dull, rude-looking people.
We went ashore this afternoon and saw the strange
old town. Nothing could be more foreign or pictur-
esque. It was odd to find one's self for the first time
in the Czar's dominions, but all his folks were very
civil and seemed glad to see us.

I made this week a very interesting two-days' trip
to the old town of Wisby and the Island of Gotldand.
It was a twelve hours' sail down the Baltic at night.
In the morning, we reached the island, and saw the
old walled town, which was once a place of great trade
and importance, but now in decay. The most inter-
estino- thinos in it are a dozen old ruined Gothic
churches, some of them quite unique in architecture,
and all showing the taste and wealth of the old times.
At present, the island is something of a smnmer resort
for Stockholm people.

We took a long drive back into the country, through

166 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

rich farms and pleasant hills, the whole a picture of
quiet, primitive, pastoral simplicity, which was very
attractive. Another night's sail brought us back to
Stockholm, which is a most beautiful city, and after
another day there, I sailed on this slow and pleas-
ant cruise for St. Petersburg.

Since Paine left me, two weeks ago, I am alone, but
meet companions often from point to point. There
are almost no Americans in these parts. It seems
a long way from home. I shall spend two or three
weeks in Russia, going to Moscow, and perhaps to
Nijni-Novgorod ; then to Berlin, Lubeck, and Copen-
hagen, and so to Hamburg, whence I sail for New
York, on September 11. . . . After you get this, di-
rect your letters to Hamburg. I shall get them
sooner.

I am very well and having a first-rate time. Have
not had a hot day this summer. I hope you are all
well and happy, and with much love to all, I am
most sincerely your son, Phillips.

Moscow, August 18, 1872.
Dear Mother, — Last Sunday, when I wrote to
father, we were crossing the Gulf of Finland, making
for St. Petersburg. We passed the great fortifications
at Cronstadt, and landed at the city Sunday even-
ing ; the next three days I spent in seeing the great
capital. Everything in it is on the most enormous
scale. Its palaces, the biggest and most gorgeous;
its churches, the richest; its squares, the most mag-
nificent in Europe. Its great church of St. Isaak
is a wonder of marble, gold, and jewels. It cost
$35,000,000, or about one hundred and fifty of the
new Trinity. The picture gallery is one of the great-

MOSCOW. 167

est of the world, with some pictures one cannot see
anywhere else. The whole country about the city is
full of magnificent palaces, with splendid grounds and
fountains, where one goes in the afternoon, and hears
bands play in the evening, and takes a quiet sail on
the Neva back to St. Petersburg, with the moon
shining on the golden domes. What do you think
of that?

Grand as St. Petersburg is, it is only the vestibide
to Moscow. You come here by rail, a long, dreary
ride of twenty hours, with poor sleeping cars, for which
you pay fifteen dollars. This Russia is the most ex-
pensive country I have ever traveled in. But when
you get here, you are in the midst of picturesqueness
such as you can see nowhere else. Think of three
hundred domes and spires, all different, all gold or
silver, blue or green, with golden stars, crosses, and
crescents, and blazing under the intense sun that
beats down on this plain. Yesterday afternoon, I
drove out to a hill near the city, the hill from which
Napoleon first saw it, and the view, as it lay glittering
in the afternoon sun, was like fairyland. Then yovi
step inside a church or palace, and it is all brilliant
with gold ; barbarous in taste, but very gorgeous. The
streets are full of splendor and squalidness, all mixed
together. First the grand coach and splendid horses
of a nobleman, and then the wretched procession of
convicts, chained together, men and women, starting
off on their long journey to Siberia. Everything has
the look of semi-civilization, exceedingly interesting,
though not attractive ; but a country with some vast
future before it, certainly.

I hope you are all well, but I have not heard yet,
nor shall I for a couple of weeks. I have been very

168 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

unfortunate, but your letters at the last must reach me
at Copenhagen. The last tidings I had were dated
only a week after I sailed. It has detracted much
from the pleasure o£ my journey, which otherwise has
been very delightful. The weather here is exquisite.
I see no Americans and few English. I have been
with an Englishman, but leave him to-morrow to go to
the Great Fair at Nijni-Novgorod, where we have only
the company of a French interpreter. Thence, in the
last part of the week, I begin to turn my feet west-
ward; next Sunday, I shall probably write to you
from somewhere outside of Russia. Love to all.
Yours affectionately,

Phillips.

Hotel du Nord, Berlin,
August 25, 1872.

Dear William, — I remember very well writing a
letter to you from this very hotel seven years ago.
It was about the beginning of my first trip to Europe.
There have been several changes since then, and I
hope for the better. I reached here only this morn-
ing, and find Berlin the same bright, cheerful-looking,
great city I remember it. It has grown and improved
immensely. Everywhere you feel that you are in the
midst of a very great, strong, self-assured Empire.
Prussia is certainly the biggest thing in Euroj)e to-day.
But Russia is not to be sneezed at, either.

I was at Moscow when I wrote last. From there I
went on a trip to Nijni-Novgorod, on the Volga, where
the great annu^al Fair is being held. It is about
twelve hours from Moscow, and quite in the centre of
Russia, so that the journey there and back gives one a
chance to see much of the country. Vast numbers of

BERLIN. 169

people gather every year from tlie east and west, and set
up a whole city of temporary shops for three months,
on a low, sandy point of land, at the meeting of
the Volga and the Oka. The crowd is most curious
and picturestj^vie. Persians, Tartars, Armenians, Chi-
nese, Caucasians, Jews, and Europeans of every sort ;
with all their various goods — teas, skins, fruits, car-
pets, great miles of iron from Siberia, and wheat from
the Black Sea, — every language and dress you can
picture. All this goes on for three months, and then
they shut up shop and go home, and the place is de-
serted until the next year.

The Fair was in fidl blast this week, and I saw it
to good advantage. Then I came back to Moscow,
spent another day, and saw the wonders of the Krem-
lin again. Then to St. Petersburg and to Warsaw,
where I had a day, and a very pleasant one. It is a
bright, live city, with fine buildings and beautifid pal-
aces and wardens. I liked what I saw of the Poles
very much indeed. Yesterday I left Warsaw at three,
and reached here this morning at five. I went to
church this morning and heard a very poor sermon.
I hope you had a better one in Trinity. Now I am
going to Lubeck and thence to Copenhagen. I sail
from Hamburg two weeks from next Wednesday. . . .
I shall be glad to be at home and at work again, though
very sorry to break off this pleasant life, . . .

Is it really true that Greeley stands a good chance
for the Presidency?

My kind love to Mary, Agnes, and all at home.
Thanks for the letters which you have written.

Yours always, Phillips.

170 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE.

Hamburg, September 1, 1872.

Dear Father, — I feel as if I owed you and mo-
ther about a dozen letters to-day, for since last Sun-
day I have been wonderfully blessed in the way of
hearing from you. At Copenhagen I received eight-
een letters, the accumulation of the summer, and now
I understand all about you and your doings up to
August 16. You must have had a frightfid sum-
mer, with the heat and the thunder-storms. I am
sorry for the discomfort you must have suffered, but
glad of the philosophy with which you seem to have
borne it.

I passed a day in Berlin, and then went to Lu-
beck, where I stayed another day. It is a picturesque
old place, the most old-fashioned town in northern
Europe, and I had a good time there. Then a pleas-
ant sail of fifteen hours carried me to Copenhagen,
where I spent three days. It is fidl of interest. The
Museum of Northern Antiquities is something quite
unique, I had a letter from Mr. Winthrop to the Di-
rector, Professor W , but found that he had gone

away to the Archaeological Congress at Brussels, but
the letter secured me a reception by one of his assist-
ants, who went carefully with me through the museum.
I found also in Copenhagen a gentleman with whom I
crossed in the Hammonia two years ago, who was very
hospitable, and so I enjoyed the place very much. I
bought one or two pieces of old carved furniture,
which will be at home by and by. One day I went
to Elsinore, and saw the ships in the Straits, and
walked on the platform where Hamlet met the ghost.
The great Exhibition is open at Copenhagen, and I
saw the King, all the royal people, and the Princess

HAMBURG. 171

of Wales. Last night I came thence by rail and
boat to this great town. Among my letters was one
from Fred, who wanted me to meet him in Paris,
and I think I shall do so. I have thonght of going
back to Berlin for the great review next Saturday, but
I shall give that up, a noble sacrifice to fraternal affec-
tion. I shall go by way of the Rhine, and next Sun-
day Frederick and I will be at the Hotel du Louvre,
Paris. Two weeks from to-day we shall be on the
Thuringia. . . .

Your affectionate son, Phillips.

FROM LONDON TO VENICE.

1874.

Albemarle Hotel, London,
Sunday morning, July 19, 1874.

Dear William, — This Sunday morning, your at-
mosphere must be a gi-eat deal clearer than the smoky
London air in which I am looking out, through which
I can just tell that it is a very pleasant day. I hope
you will have a good Sunday. . . .

Your letter, which came day before yesterday, was
the first that reached me, and was a most welcome be-
ginning to the new spell of correspondence. It seems
curious to start it off again for the fourth time. This
trip, so far, has been a little different from the others.
I have seen something more of people and received
more hospitality than when I have been in England be-
fore. Everybody has been most cordial and civil. . . .
What I have seen have been mostly clerical circles, but
in some ways clergymen and laymen are more mixed
up and have more common interests here than in
America. For instance, all are excited now about the
Public Worship Bill. They talk of it at dinner, and
write of it in the newspapers in a way that much sur-
prises us, who ordinarily leave such things to our
Bishop and the people who go to the General Conven-
tion. It seems now as if the Bill would become a law,
and it is hard to believe that it can do much good.

I have seen a good deal of London over again with

MORLAIX. 173

Arthur. There are many things in it that never tire,
and the great city seems to grow more and more enor-
mous every time we come. Last Monday we went all
over Westminster Abbey with Dean Stanley, who
knows it as well as I know the Teclmological Hall.
It was a very interesting morning, and I wished you
were there. I preached there the evening before to
such a crowd, and under such a roof, and among such
columns and monuments as one does not often see.
On Tuesday I went to the annual dinner of the sing-
ing people of the Abbey, in the Jerusalem Chamber,
where we did all kinds of queer old English customs,
sang, and made speeches till ever so late. I was the
only one of the preachers of the year present, and had
to speak for them all. Think of speaking for Bishops
and Archbishops ! . . .

On Friday, Arthur and I went to a dinner at Mr.
Freemantle's, who was in America last year. Arthur
sat next to Lady Augusta Stanley, the Dean's wife.
He (Arthur) has been off for four days on a cathe-
dral trip, and I have been visiting in the country.
To-day I am to preach in St. Philip's Regent Street,
for Mr. Leathes, whom I saw in America last year.
To-morrow morning we leave for France by New Haven
and Dieppe, and begin at once on Normandy. How
I wish you were here. Shall we not come together
some day ? Write me punctually, and I will always
answer. Affectionately, Phill.

MoRLAix, France, July 28, 1874.

Dear Mother, — Arthur says this is a "dutiful

scene." He is sittinsf on one side of a wretched little

table, in this quaint old hotel, writing to John, and I

am just beginning this note to you upon the other

174 FROM LONDON TO VENICE.

side. I dare say our letters will be very much alike,
for there is nothing to tell, except where we have been
and what we have seen ; that is rich enough. A week
ago yesterday we crossed from New Haven to Dieppe,
and had a very beautiful voyage. The sea was calm
and bright ; the coast that we left and the coast to
which we came, both were beautiful. Then we went
up to Rouen, and spent a lovely day among its old
Gothic architecture. There is nothing more beauti-
ful in Europe. Then we struck off into the coun-
try, and for a week we have been wandering around
among old Norman towns, each odder and more
picturesque than any that have gone before. Pont-
Audemer, Lisieux, Caen, Bayeux, St. Lo, Coutances,
Granville, Avranches, Pont Orson, Dol, Rennes, Mor-
laix, these are mere names to you, as they were a week
ago to us, but now they are all places to remember, —
old towns, each with its churches six oi- eight hundred
years old, some with magnificent cathedrals, and all
with curious houses tumbling out over the streets, and
carved from top to bottom with the queerest figures in
their oak timbers, apostles, prophets, martyrs, dragons,
donkeys, trees, soldiers, and great wreaths of flowers.
The streets themselves are full of interesting people,
doing the oddest things. Women with high, white
caps, men with wooden shoes clattering along the pave-
ments, children plajnng strange games, and donkeys
laboring along with loads three timeg as big as them-
selves.

All the places are full of history. Here William the
Conqueror was born, and here he was buried ; here the
Huguenots once burned the church, and there the Roy-
alists withstood the Republicans in the French Revo-
lution. All this makes Boston seem far away, and

TOURS. lib

the sense of vacation very complete. To-day we
passed from Normandy to Brittany, a ronglier, ruder
country, and a wilder people. Last Smiday we spent
at Granville, a curious French watering-place upon
the coast, and after a service in the old cathedral, we
bathed and swam from the great beach. Arthur is
well, and seems to enjoy it all. To-night we received
letters up to Jidy 9. Here are some nice old people
and " Little Wanderers " from Brittany. Are n't they
pretty ? Love to all. Write often.

Phillips.

Tours, Tuesday Evening, August 4, 1874.
Dear William, — Here I have just received your
second letter, full of pleasant talk, and telling every
kind of interesting thing about Andover, Mary, and
all the other people, I was glad to get it. For a
week we have wandered on through Brittany, looked
at old castles and cathedrals, and talked together
about you all, but have heard nothing since last Tues-
day evening. Arthur receives no end of newspaper
cuttings, telling about the great Chicago fire, but my
only home letter is yours, and I am satisfied. I won-
der if you have followed us upon the map ? We have
rounded the promontory of Finisterre, out on the
northern side almost to Brest, as far as St. Pol de
Leon and Lesneven ; then down to Quimper, and by
Auray and Carnac to Angers, where we spent last
Sunday. To-day, our trip has been to Poitiers, and
here we are to-night at Tours. It has been almost
exactly the journey which I laid out at my table in
the Kempton, and has proved about the best that
coidd be made. I have been amazed at the richness
of the old architecture of the coiuitry. In little out

176 FROM LONDON TO VENICE.

of the way villages, readied only by rickety country
wagons, we have found glorious and immense churches
of the rarest beauty, — churches that took centuries to
build, and stand to-day perfect in their splendor, with
wonderful glass in their windows, and coliunns and
capitals that take your breath away for beauty. The
people of Brittany are rough enough, and some of the
inns at which we spent the night were dirty and for-
lorn ; but the people were always kind and civil, and
did their best to make us comfortable. They show
clearly enough that they are of the old Celtic stock,
true cousins of the Irishmen we know so well. We
had some drives, and we met laborers by the score,
who might easily have been turning up the bog in
Ireland, or driving a dirt cart among the ruins of
Fort Hill. They are a very devout folk, even to
Superstition, and altogether interesting and filthy.

Now we are out of Brittany, and making our way
from town to town along the splendid valley of the
Loire. There is a cathedral here in Tours (with
twin towers) that staggers you with its splendor, as
you come suddenly out of a little dark, crooked street
and stand in front of it. Yesterday, Le Mans had
another, and to-day Poitiers was wonderfully rich. All
the while your letters come in most welcome, and are
better than cathedrals. Now you must be just about
going up to Andover and cooling yourself after a hot
day. My blessing to you always, and to Mary and
the bairns. Do not forget to write. Yours always.

Venice, Friday Evening, August 21, 1874.

Dear William, — I fully expected, when we arrived
here this afternoon, to find a letter from you, and per-

VENICE. Ill

haps from some of the other good folks at home, but
they had not come, so this goes not as answer to any-
thing' in particuhir, but only to tell you generally how
we fare. We have reached the Adriatic. After two
days in Milan, we rode to-day across the beautiful
plain of northern Italy, and came in over the Lagune
to this wonderful city. It is nine years since I was
here, but the city, which has stood for more than nine
hundred years, has not changed much since I saw it
last. St. Mark's is just where I left it in the great
square, and the gondoliers are singing and rowing in
the canal under my windows, just as of old. It has
been a varied enough trip that we have taken, London,
Brittany, Paris, Switzerland, and Italy. It has been
delightfid. We have been rather too much hurried ;
I think we shall stay here for a week, and see the
strange old city thoroughly. Arthur is enjoying it
very much.

The hotel here is full of English and American
people. At the table to-day everybody, except one,
talked English ; but there is nobody we ever saw be-
fore, and we still make each other's company. I
wonder if you have had a pleasant summer ? In spite
of all the delight of this sort of life, it will not be bad
to get back again, settle down, and talk it over in
West Cedar Street or Berkeley Street.

. . . The news from home seems quiet, except that
I see there is more trouble at the South.

Eour weeks from to-day I shall be on the ocean,
and six weeks from to-day I will spend the evening
with you if you will ask me. My kindest love to
Mary, the babies, and all at home.

Yours most affectionately, P.

178 FROM LONDON TO VENICE.

Sunday, August 23, 1874.

Dear Father, — This lias been Sunday in Ven-
ice. This morning, we set out like good boys to go
to church, but when our gondola reached the palace
on the Grand Canal where service is wont to be held,
we found a man upon the steps to say there was no
service because the chaplain had gone into the coun-
try. It sounded very much like what might be said
upon the steps of Technological Hall ; so Arthur and
I made a round of the great churches, and looked at
the pictures in them until dinner time. If we did not
go to church, we went to churches. This evening,
the moon is splendid on the water, and we took a
gondola again, and rowed round about the beautiful
old place for an hour. That has been our Sunday.
We are lying by at Venice for refreshment, and no-
thing could be more delightful. The weather is ex-
quisite, cool, clear, and cloudless. The pictures are
glorious, and you do not walk anywhere, because
you cannot, but are rowed wherever you want to go
in the most luxurious style.

We came here over the Alps and by Milan. There
we spent two days, about one of which I wrote last
night, a letter which you will see by and by in the
"Standard of the Cross." We shall stay here tiU
Thursday or Friday, and then start through the
Tyrol, slowly, by way of Munich and the Khine, to
Paris. Three weeks from Thursday we sail. On the
8th of September we mean to reach Paris. Think of
us there.

I wonder what you are doing ; how I wish you were
here to see the Ducal Palace with us to-morrow. It
would be great fun, too, to see the gondolas go out.
I have seen nothing of the Winthrops, but have had a

MAYENCE. 179

letter from Mrs. Wintlirop, who is in Germany. My
love to all. P.

Mayence, September 4, 1874.

Dear William, — Let me see. The last time I
wrote to you I was in the top story of a hotel at
Venice, looking down upon the Grand Canal. To-
night, I am in the top story of a hotel at Mayence,
looking down upon the Rhine. From Italy to Ger-
many ! The change is complete enough, but the two
evening views out of the windows are not so unlike. We
have come up through the Tyrol, over the great Am-
pezzo Pass that I have long wanted to see, and which we
saw pretty well. There was more or less of rain to
keep the magnificent Dolomites from showing their
most splendid heads, but on the whole the three days
were a success, and brought us by Innsbruck to
Munich, where we spent Sunday and Monday. I
have been there several times before, but it is a bright,
cheery city, full of art treasures, which I do not care
how often I see. Then we went to liatisbon, and to
Nuremberg, which was quaint and lovely. They were
celebrating Sedan, and the gray old town was gay
with colored banners and flowers. Then there was a
queer Fourth-of-Julyish procession in the afternoon,
and the boys sang the " Wacht am Rhein" about the
streets all the evening. After that we went to Hei-
delberg, and saw the grand old castle, the noblest
thing of its sort in Europe. To-day, we came up to
Worms and saw the cathedral, and thought of Luther
at the Diet, and this afternoon we journeyed on to
this place ; to-morrow, go down the Rhine to Cologne,
where we shall spend Sunday.

So our faces are set homeward, and ten days after

180 FROM LONDON TO VENICE.

you get this you will get us, if tlie Siberia goes well.
We have not seen any one we know since we left
Venice, but all around us the papers tell of multi-
tudes of our countrymen having their good time. I
wonder whether they all enjoy it as much as I do.
Sometimes, especially when I read home papers (and
I thank you for those you sent me last), I grow
conscience-stricken and restless, and want to be at
work ; then I make up my mind to work all the harder
when I reach home, and thus dismiss the anxiety and
go on my easy way.

I hear that father and mother will stay another
year in Hancock Street. ... I think it is the best
plan, and we will still climb the hill to see them. I
shall be glad enough to see you as we draw up at East
Boston. My brotherly love to M.

Affectionately, Phillips.

ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT.

1877.

LoNDOK, July 4, 1877.

Dear Father, — Hurrah for the Fourth of July !
William has gone for a day or two by himseK on a
trip to see cathedrals, and I have no doubt is enjoying
everything between here and Durham. I think he
will be back to-night, and then we shall keep together
for the rest of the time. Since we arrived and came
to London, we have been very busy. William has
been doing the sights, and I have been about with him
most of the time. Last Saturday we went down to
Salisbury and spent a delightful Sunday in that quiet,
little cathedral town. In the afternoon we drove out
to Stonehenge, which is, I think, the best thing to see
in England. It is so old that it would puzzle the
Historical Society itself.

I left William there and came back to London early
Monday morning to go and lunch with some parsons.
Indeed, I have been j^arsoning a good deal of the
time. We are to dine with Dean Stanley on Saturday
evening, and I am to preach for him in the Abbey on
Sunday morning. This evening I am to dine with
Mr. Pierrepont, the American minister. I suppose
General Grant will be there. What a time he has
been having here.

. . . To-day I have been at Convocation, or sort of
General Convention of the Diocese of Canterbury,

182 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT.

tliougli tliey are wholly clergymen, no laymen. To-day
they liave been discnssmg confession, and ended m a
vote by a large majority on the Protestant side.

Friday night we have an order for the House of
Lords and House of Commons. So you see we are
having a good, busy time. Monday morning we leave
for the Continent and then our real traveling begins.
I hope that you are getting better and better all the
time. Do not forget that you and mother are to come
and spend two weeks with me at 175 Marlboro' Street.
My kindest love to her and the aunts.

Affectionately, P.

Old Bible Hotel, Amsterdam,
Sunday, July 15, 1877.

Dear Mother, — I want you to understand that
you must answer this letter yourself, with your own
hand. I think it must be ten years since you have
written me a regular letter, hardly since I was in
Amsterdam before, so remember !

They call this hotel the Old Bible Hotel because the
first Dutch Bible was printed in this house some two
hmidred years ago, and now we are lodged here, yes-
terday and to-day. This morning we went to a Dutch
church about six hundred years old and heard some
awful singing and a very earnest sermon, of which we
did not understand a word. This afternoon we went
into the comitry to a place called Zaandam, and saw
all sorts of queer sights among the coimtry people.
On the whole, our first week on the Continent has
gone first-rate, and we shall spend this week entirely
in Holland, bringing up at Cologne on Saturday night.
We are both well and are having a good time. In
England all went nicely. I saw a good many people

LUCERNE. 183

in London, and they were pleasant and civil. General
Grant was the ijreat sensation. I dined with him on
the 4th o£ July at the American minister's. He did
not say much, hut was simple and dignified. We saw
a great deal of Dean Stanley, v/ho is very pleasant.

I am so glad to hear how well father is, and that
the smnmer goes so happily with you all. Our time
is one third up, and it will not be long before we are
talking of home again. A letter from James tells me
that I am a Doctor of Divinity at Harvard. I am
very sensible of the honor, but I hope people will not
begin to call me by the title. My best love to father
and the aunts, and I am forever

Your affectionate son, Phillips.

Lucerne, Sunday, August 12, 1877.

Dear Mary,^ — Now I will tell you all about it. I
dare say 'V\'^illiam has written you since we arrived at
Liverpool, but perhaps he has not told you anything
about where we have been, or what we have been do-
ing. I must go back to the steamer, where there were
a great many pleasant people. We sailed along as
quietly as if we were paddling on this quiet lake of
Lucerne, the sea bag hardly wiggle-waggled on the
wall. Everybody came to dinner, and the tables were
dreadfully crowded. On the whole, it was n't much of
a voyage, quiet, dull, and respectable. We probably
shall get something livelier going back, when the Sep-
tember sea will throw iqi its heels and make some sort
of rumpus.

Then we came to England, where, if it had not been
for General Grant, we should have been of some con-
sequence, but they were all taken up with him, and
looked at us as if they wondered what we had come for.

1 A sister-in-law.

184 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT.

And we went about among them as if we had as good
a right as they had, because our great-great-great-
grandfathers came from there. Their countr}^ looked
beautiful, and London never seemed fuller of peo]3le,
and was pretty hot. It is terrible to think how many
times v/e have been sizzling with heat and shivering
with cold since we left New York. I feel like one of
the pieces of meat which we have had served up at
our many dining-places, which have evidently been
heated over and then cooled down again a dozen times
for different travelers who came. However, it is a
pretty healthy process, and we are getting as tough as
some of the pieces of meat. Well, that is what we
did in London.

Then we crossed over to the Continent and so came
to the Belgians and Hollanders. The country up
there was damp and interesting. It was curious to
see how hard they have worked to save it from the sea,
and you wonder why they wanted to save it. The
men looked wooden-headed and the women golden-
headed, not as to their hair, but they wear gold blind-
ers, like very swell horses, which make them look very
funny, and compel you to go on the other side of the
street when you meet a first-rate a la girl. But they
were a dear old people, and I can hear their wooden
shoes clattering about the Amsterdam pavements
now. I have no doubt they will go on growing up
(those of them who don't fall into the canals and get
drowned in early youth), generation after generation,
for ages to come, and thinking they have got the best
country in the world.

Then came the Khine, and a little glimpse of Ger-
many, and Gothic architecture, and all that sort of
thing, our romantic period. It was all pretty, and

STRASBURG. 185

William kept up a lively life, slglit-seeing all day. . . .
Then came the green Tyrol, I'unning up to the White
Alps and sending us over from the snow-storm on the
Stelvio to swelter in Verona. We put on overcoats
and wondered whether we had really thirsted for a
drop of water only two days before. Then came Ven-
ice, as fascinating and dreamy as it always is, beauti-
ful hot Florence, bright Milan, then the hills again,
and now we are in Switzerland. That is all. There
is a lake outside this fourth-story window that is pret-
tier than anything in Pomfret, and to-morrow we are
going over where those clouds are lying, to see the
beauties of the Bernese mountains. I expect to see
the Jungfrau wink at William to-morrow evening.
He is as well as a healthy cricket. Thank you for
letting him come, and I '11 return him safe. My love
to the babies, if they have not forgotten nae, and I am
just as usual, Your affectionate P.

Strasbukg, August 26, 1877.
Dear Arthur,^ — You were a blessed good boy to
write me from Bar Harbor. I only received your
note last night when I came here, and here 's a word
of answer, though we are so near coming home that it
hardly seems worth while to write. We have had a
lovely summer, much of it on our old ground. First,
London and the Dean (I did not see Stopford Brooke
or Freemantle) ; then the Rhine, Venice, and Milan
(but the gallery there was closed, and we did not see
the Luinis) ; then Zermatt and Chamounix. All
these brought back our pleasant days. We roamed
about and lunched at Bauer's, which stood just as we
left it opposite St. Moses. It seems as if we had been

1 His brother, Rev. Arthur Brooks, D. D.

186 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT.

there only a week before, in fact just run up to Co-
negliano and back again.

And you have been in the okl haunts in Mt. De-
sert. You were cooler than we were in Venice, cer-
tainly. I have seen no parsons from America, though
I heard of Tyng being about in Switzerland. The
minister at Geneva wrote and wanted me to lay the
corner stone of his new church, but I wrote him I
could not, and he asked General Grant, wliich no
doubt pleased him a great deal better. . . .

There has been a terrible summer in America,
has n't there ? Matters must be in an unsettled
state and delay the return of prosperity sadly. Over
here, it really seems as if Russia had got a much
harder job than anybody dreamed, and one i^erhaps
too hard for her to accomplish. Nothing but Glad-
stone, and the popular feeling which he excited and
expressed, has kept England neutral.

I wonder if you are back in New York and at work
again. Look out for the Scythia on Tuesday, the
18th, when we arrive under the care of Captain
Hains. I shall feel by and by as if I could not cross
the ocean except with him. Give my best love to
Lizzie, and tell her I count on her and you to be my
first visitors in the new house. We will have lots to
talk about. To-morrow we start from Paris, and a
week from next Saturday, ho for New York !

Always affectionately, P.

IN PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND

IRELAND,

1880.

Hotel du Louvee, Paris, July 7, 1880.
Dear William, — You know this place. The
Louvre Is just opposite, the Palais Royal is just be-
hind, and you and I were here in 1877. You see we
have not been quite able to keep to our plan of not
going' out of the United Kingdom. I have to be in
London, or rather at Windsor, next Sunday, to make
a few remarks to the Queen, so we ran over here for
the week between. It looks just as it used to. The
Venus of Milo is over there in the round hall, with
the red curtains behind her, and the Titians, Murillos,
and Raphaels are upstairs. The cabs go whirling over
the asphalt, just as they used to when you and I were
in them. It is very jolly and pretty, and I wish that
you were here. Everything in London was very good.
The Dean was all civility. He gave us his dinner
party, and Farrar and others were there ; and we went
to the great Bradlaugh debate in the House of Com-
mons, and stayed until it broke vip at two o'clock
in the morning. We went also to Lambeth, and saw
the Archbishop, but did not lunch with him. The
pictures in Trafalgar Square were just as fine as
ever, and I bought some Waul^enphasts, and preached
in the Abbey on the 4th of July evening. Farrar
preached in the morning, and beat me on Yankee

188 PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND.

Doodle ! Tell Mary I shall write her from the High-
lands. My love to her, the babies, and all Nahant.
Affectionately, P.

Steamship Columba, July 29, 1880.

Dear William, — I am on a steamboat between
Oban and Glasgow on the coast of Scotland. John
is up on deck somewhere, and the scenery outside has
grown a little tame, so I take this chance to tell you
that we are well, and the Scotch trip, which is draw-
ing near its end, has been a great success, just as the
Dutch, the Tyrolese, and the Swiss trip were three
years ago.

We left London on the 12th of July ; the day after I
wi'ote a beautiful letter to Mary from Windsor Castle,
and went to Edinburgh, where we saw many jjretty
sights, and quite a number of interesting people. Dean
Stanley had furnished us with introductions, and every-
body was very civil. We stayed there three days,
and then went to St. Andrews, where we saw the great
ruined cathedral, and some more agreeable people con-
nected with the university there. We spent a queer
night at an old castle, where some of Dean Stan-
ley's relations live, and all was very nice and funny.
Then we struck north, and have been wandering about
the Highlands and the Island of Skye for the last ten
days. First-rate weather, lots of queer adventures, and
all sorts of ridiculous stopping-places, with superb
scenery everywhere, made it a delightful journey.
Now our faces are turned homeward. A day upon
the Lowland lakes, a day in Glasgow, a week among
the English lakes, a Sunday, August 8, at Chester,
three days in Ireland, the Germanic at Queenstown
on the 13tli, New York some time on Saturday, the

WELLS. 189

21st ; then Naliant, Boston, the new house, and ser-
mons. . . .

I received Mary's letter last week, and consider it
an answer to the epistle from Windsor. Tell her I
thank lier for it. Good-by. Affectionately, P.

Wells, August 5, 1880.

My dear Mary, — Thank you for your letter,
which was very good to get. We are too near
home (for we sail a week from to-morrow) for me to
write you a great long answer, but it just occurs to me
that I may reach Boston at some untimely hour, and
want to get into my house, while you and William are
comfortably sleeping at Nahant. So will you ask him,
about the time we are expected, to leave the house
keys at the Brunswick, directed to me, and I can get
them there. I will thank you when I see you.

We have had a beautifid time. It has always
rained except just where we were, and everybody has
seemed to go out of his, her, or its way to make us
happy. Now we are getting a few days down here
among the southern towns. We have just come back
from Glastonbury, which was very pretty, and I am
writing to you in a queer little mahogany coffee-room.
John is beside me, writing an immense letter to his
wife, which is a thing that all my traveling com-
panions have done in their several turns. At the other
end of the table, an old gentleman with a bald head
is studying a railway time-table, and his wife, who is
very ugly, is asleep in an armchair in the southeast
corner. At the northeast corner of the room, a man
is eating his supper of fried sole and boiled eggs. The
old gentleman has just called for a glass of " brown
brandy and soda water," and he seems to think it will

190 PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND.

taste good. There is a row in the hall because an
omnibus has just arrived from the station with some
more guests, and the landlady is running about like an
over-busy hen. That is abovit all that seems to be
going on to-night in Wells. The old gentleman, who
seems to be the liveliest member of the party, has got
his drink, and is ordering a boiled sole for his break-
fast at half past eight to-morrow morning. Now Wells
is perfectly quiet. Not a sound. . . •

Ever yours affectionately (if you don't forget about
the keys), P.

A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

1882-1883.

Steamship Servia, June 28, 1882.

Dear Johnny,^ — We have had a wonderful pas-
sage, and here we are just getting- ready to see Fastnet
light this afternoon. Does n't that bring back two
years ago, and all the long dreary day between Queens-
town and Liverpool? I hope that we shall have a
more cheerful experience to-morrow. Dr. John Hall
is aboard, and Dr. Lorimer, and Lawrence Barrett, and
T. B. Aldrich, and four hundred and fifty more ; and
we have had a bright, sunny, happy time. McVickar
and James and I and Richardson and John Ropes
make up a sort of party who sit together at the cabin
table, and smoke together in one corner of the deck,
and talk about whatever chooses to turn up.

And so the year of wandering has begun. It is not
easy yet to realize that it is more than a mere summer's
journey, but every now and then it comes over me
that the gap is to be so great that the future, if there
is any, will certainly be something different in some
wa}^ from the past. I don't regret that, for pleasant
as all these past years have been, they don't look very
satisfactory as one reviews them ; and although I am
inclined to put a higher value on their results than
anybody else woidd be likely to do, they have not cer-
tainly accomplished much. I should like to tliink that
the years that remain, when I get home, would be

1 His brother, Rev. Jolin C. Brooks.

192 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

more useful. There is surely coming, and it has partly
come, a better Christian Day than any that we or
our fathers for many generations have seen. One
would like to feel before he dies that he had made
some little bit of contribution to it.

Well, well, all that is far away ; and here come the
stewards rattling the plates and getting ready for an
immediate lunch, — soup and cold meat and prunes
and baked apples ; that is the next step in this small
floating world, and the future of Christianity does not
interest any of them at this moment.

I wonder what is going on at home. Your Marion
home must be almost done. I hope with all my heart
you and yours may be very happy there 171 secula
secidorum. Think of me sometimes, and when you
t'link, write. My love to Hattie and the babies.

Ever affectionately, P.

Steamship Servia, June 28, 1882.
Dear William, — We reached Queenstown last
night, and I wish you were here this morning. I
would tell you what a pleasant voyage we had, since
you left us a week ago this morning ; what a splendid
great ship this is, and how McVickar and I have rat-
tled round in our little stateroom. I preached last
Sunday, and we had an entertainment last night for
the Liverpool Seamen's Home. I presided, and Law-
rence Barrett read " Horatius," and girls and boys
sang songs. "William," our old steward of the Scy-
thia, is on this boat, and waits on James. The Cap-
tain never speaks to anybody ; we have four hundred
and fifty passengers, are awfully over-crowded, and
have to dine in two batches. It is all delightful and
confused, and as funny as an ocean voyage always is.

BRUSSELS. 193

But you are not hero, so I will not try to tell you all
this, but we have really had a most remarkable voyage.

I think we are likely next week to turn our steps
southward and spend the summer in southern France
and northern Italy, with perhaps a rmi into northern
Spain. Richardson will probal)ly join us there, and
architecture be the main interest of the tour. But art,
life, and scenery shall not be forgotten. You shall
hear all about it.

Did Gertie get the list of passengers I sent her?
I thought she woidd see a good many names that she
knew, and would be interested in knowing who my
comj)anions were. James has just passed by, pacing
the deck with jocund tread, and sends his love.

It was good of you and Mary to come and see us
off. I think you are both very good to me all the
time, and to think of your goodness wiU be one of my
greatest joys this long year. P.

Hotel Bellevue, Brussels, July 9, 1882.
My dear William, — Do you remember pretty
Brussels ? And this comfortable hotel and St. Gudule
and the nice time we had here five years ago ? Well,
here we are again, James and McVickar and I, and I
will tell you how we got here. We landed after a most
wonderful passage from the Servia on Thursday even-
ing, the 29th of June. The next morning we left
Liverpool, and James and I spent the night at the
Peacock Inn at Rowsley, where we went to see Chats-
worth and Iladdon Hall. It was the most delightful
Englisli afternoon. Saturday morning we took a
train for Lincoln, and saw the big cathedral, which
you know. That was good, too, and James seemed to
enjoy it very much. In the afternoon we drove to

194 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Boston, where we saw the Vicar, who insisted that we
should remain for Sunday. We declined his invita-
tion to the vicarage and stayed at the Peacock Inn.

It is a very neat and pretty town, as dull as death,
with nothing but the St. Botolph Church to give it
distinction. On Sunday morning James read the
Lessons in the big church and I preached. It was a
pleasant sort of exjaerience. John's visit of two years
ago was constantly referred to, and seems to have be-
come historic in the town. The Vicar is a very pleas-
ant old gentleman and hospitable as he can be.

From there we went to Peterborough, and on Mon-
day saw Ely and a good deal of Cambridge, and finally
brought up at London on Monday night. We went
to one or two hotels about Trafalgar Square, but they
were crowded, and at last we brought up at the old
door of the Westminster Palace Hotel, where they
took us in, and it was like a bit of the old times.

Here we stayed three days. One night we went to
the House of Commons. Of course I went into the
Abbey and saw the Dean's grave, and I called at the
old deanery, but the new Dean was out. Farrar came
to see me and asked me to preach. I saw Lady Frances
Baillie, and we had much talk about Dean Stanley.
Then we went out to see Burne Jones the artist, and
again to see William Morris the poet, at his factory
at Merton Abbey, where he makes liis beautif id things.
These, with some sights of London, took up our time.
McVickar, who had been to see his sister, joined us
again in London, and here we also met Richardson,
and arranged to go with him to southern France and
Spain. Think of us there when you get this.

On Friday, James, McVickar, and I crossed from
Dover to Ostend, and yesterday we went to Lou vain,

PARIS. 195

where McViekar had to see about some bells for Holy
Trinity. There is a bright and busy ten days since
we landed. How are you all? I tried to })icture you
at Andover this Sunday afternoon, with the aunts tak-
ing care of you. Oh, how I wish you and Mary were
here, and could go down with us to hear the Vesper
music at St. Gudule. It is all very pleasant and will
last for six weeks more, and then for Germany, and
something rather more like work. It is hard to real-
ize that a year and more must come before I see you
all. God keep you. My best love to Mary and the
children. Affectionately, P.

Hotel de l'Empire, Paris, July 14, 1882.

My dear Gertie, — I was very much pleased to get
your letter, and think it was very nice indeed in you
to write. It was the first letter I received, and I read
it as I was sitting in the vestibule of the House of
Commons in London, waiting for the doors to open,
to let us go in and hear the great men make their
speeches. Since then we have traveled on and on,
and now are in great Paris. It is all excitement here,
because this is the great Fete Day, just like the 4tli
of July in Boston. Years and years ago, the old
prison of the Bastile was taken, and the prisoners
were released on the 14th of July. Susie will tell you
all about it. The streets to-day are full of flying
flags, and there are bands of music going all about
town, and hosts of soldiers marching. This evening,
the city is going to be illuminated, and there will be
fireworks everywhere. And it is all as pretty as
pretty can be. Don't you wish that you were here?
Some day you and I will come. The funny thing is
^Inat the people here speak French. The little chil-

196 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

dren about the streets speak it, just as well as you
speak English. The boys and girls are very queer.
The common little boys wear blue blouses, and the
little girls wear small white night - caps all the time.
It is bright, and sunshiny, and delightful.

I am glad you have had such a nice time in New
York, and that you saw Central Park and the Ele-
vated Railroad. Now I am glad you are having such
a good time at Andover. Go and see the beautifid
pig, and write me a letter and tell me how he looks.
Get your map and find Bayonne, down in the south-
west corner of France. We shall be somewhere
about there when you get this letter.

Good-by, and don't forget your affectionate uncle

Phillips.

NiMEs, France, July 23, 1882.
Dear William, — I am afraid that a little letter
which I wrote from Paris must do duty, and fill the
gap between my last to you and this. After we left
Paris, we traveled somewhat rapidly through France
until we reached this place. What we saw specially
was a group of churches in Auvergne, in and about
Clermont, in which Richardson is especially inter-
ested, and which indeed give the key to a great deal
that is in Trinity. They are very curious, and I am
glad to have seen them. Besides, we saw one or two
funny little French watering-places and some fine
scenery, finer than anything which I had supposed
there was in France. We are spending a quiet Sunday
here, and next week shall very possibly start for
Spain, where we may spend a few weeks, but our
plans are imcertain. Richardson and his young friend
Jacques are still with us.

GENOA. 197

I have heard little from home, but am thankful to
know that all goes well. There were a few lines on
the outside of a forwarded letter, which reached me
here, in which you told me that Arthur and Lizzie
sailed on the lltli. They must be now in Europe. I
hope they will let me know their whereabouts, and
that I may see them before they go home. It seems
very strange that we should all be in Europe, and not
know anything about each other's ways. Allen writes
me about the church, which seems to be getting on
well.

I wish you were here, but do write me all about
everything. My love to all. P.

Genoa, July 30, 1882.

Deak William, — ... You do not know what a
lovely Sunday this is here. The sea breeze is blowing,
the palaces are shining, the people are chattering,
the sky is a delicious blue, and you, if you were only
here, would add another picture to your gallery which
woidd be worth keeping all your life. Since last Sun-
day we have strolled through southern France, seen
Provence with its wealth of old Roman remains, and
sailed, with the loveliest passage, across from Mar-
seilles to this delightful town. To-morrow, we start
by steamer for Leghorn, Pisa, and Florence. North-
ern Italy will have the next three weeks, — imtil
James leaves us for home, and the whole party goes
to pieces. We have had some hot weather, but no-
thing oppressive, — nothing like what I fear you have
had at home.

We are evidently going to have a troubled year in
Europe, and just at present it cannot be nice to go to
India. It seems most doubtful what will be the end,

198 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

especially if, as now seems likely, the religious ques-
tion gets mixed up with it, and a Mohammedan sacred
war is proclaimed. England is sure to come out
strong. Her action in Egypt must certainly be for
the advantage of civilization and the world. . . .

Flobence, August 6, 1882.

Dear William, — How do you aU do this week?
Dear me, how the weeks go by, and the hot summer
slips away ! Since last Smiday we have had a pretty
sail from Genoa to Leghorn, a bright day in Pisa,
a nice three days in Florence, and a visit to Sienna
and Orvieto. Just think of Orvieto, where we slept
Friday night, within two hours and a half of Rome
itself !

Do you remember Florence? There is a cathedral
here, a Baptistery, a Campanile, and there are Donatel-
los, Andrea del Sartos, and Lucca della Robbias ; and
they all look just the same as they did five years ago. It
is not quite so hot as when we were here last, but it is
the same bright, happy-looking place, and the same
man sells lemonade under the shadow of the loggia.
To-morrow morning we are off for Bologna, Ravenna,
and then Venice. Think of us on Sunday the 20th,
at Milan, and Sunday the 27th, at Paris. Our party
has held together beautifidly, and there has been lots
of fun. I shall meet Arthur and Lizzie for a while
after the 1st of September. I heard from John yes-
terday, who seems delighted with Marion and his
house. . . .

My next prospect is Germany, and I am counting
much on it.

VENICE. 199

Vknice, August 13, 1882.

Dear Gertie, — When the little children in Venice
want to take a bath, they just go clown to the front
steps of the house and jumjJ off, and swiin about in
the street. Yesterday I saw a nurse standing on the
front steps, holding one end of a string, and the other
end was tied to a little fellow who was swimming up
the street. When he went too far, the nurse pulled
in the string, and got her baby home again. Then I
met another youngster, swimming in the street, whose
mother had tied him to a post by the side of the door,
so that when he tried to swim away to see another boy,
who was tied to another door post up the street, he
could n't, and they had to sing out to one another over
the water.

Is not this a queer city ? You are always in danger
of running over some of the people and drowning them,
for you go about in a boat, instead of a carriage, and
use an oar, instead of a horse. But it is ever so pretty,
and the people, especially the children, are very bright,
and gay, and handsome. When you are sitting in
your room at night, you hear some music under your
window, and look out, and there is a boat with a
man with a fiddle, and a woman with a voice, and
they are serenading you. To be sure, they want some
money when they are done, for everybody begs here,
but they do it very prettily and are full of fun.

Tell Susie I did not see the Queen this time. She
was out of town. But ever so many noblemen and
princes have sent to know how Toody was, and how
she looked, and I have sent them all her love.

There must be lots of .pleasant things to do at An-
dover, and I think you must have had a beautiful siun-
mer there. Pretty soon, now, you will go back to

200 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Boston. Do go into my house when you get there,
and see if the doll and her baby ai-e well and happy
(but do not carry them off) ; and make the music box
play a tune, and remember your affectionate uncle

Phillips.

Chioggia, Augaist 16, 1882.

Dear Mary, — Did you ever come to Chioggia?
If you ever did, you are not likely to have forgotten
it, for it is the queerest, dearest little jilace in the
world. Perhaps some time when you have been at
Venice, you have taken the steamboat early in the
morning, and run down here and spent the day, which
is what Mr. McVickar and I have done to-day. We
left James just dressed and ready for his breakfast,
meaning to have a beautifid day in Venice ; he pre-
ferred that to Chioggia, and we shall meet again to-
night when we get back to dinner. You have no idea
how well he is, and how he wanders aroimd in gondo-
las like a Doge, and how good it has been to have him
here all these weeks. But about Chioggia.

It is an old, old island, two hours from Venice,
where the people fish for a living, and hardly anybody
who once gets born on the island ever goes away.
The harbor now is fvdl of fishing-boats, with sails of
red, blue, and green, with pious pictures all over them,
and picturesqvie fishermen dropping queer nets over
the sides. The old piazza in front of the tavern where
we have been eating our collazione is full of men un-
snarling their nets and spreading them out to dry.
Picturesque children are begging around the door ;
and a little brown rascal, with nothing on but a pair
of bathing trousers, is standing on his head for a cent.
The gar^on has just got mad and thrown one of the

MILAN. 201

cafe chairs into the midst of thorn and scattered the
clamorous multitude, who are laughing at him from
a safe distance.

Up the street there is a jolly old church, and two
funny little old lions are carved on the bridge, which
crosses the canal just opposite. It is as pretty as a
picture, — prettier than most. I hope you saw it the
last time you were in Venice. If not, you must be
sure to come here next time. The only trouble is that
you have to stay six hours, when three is quite enough ;
but this gives me the chance for which I have been
looking, to thank you for your letter, which was very
good indeed to get. It came from Mt. Desert, which
is not altogether just like Venice, but is something
made out of land and water, at any rate.

I like to think of you all at Andover, where I am
sure you have had a good, hai)py summer. I hope
when you get back to dear old Boston, you will be
good enough to miss me dreadfully. I expect to be
full of miserableness when you get this, week after
next, which will be the time when our pleasant siun-
mer party is breaking up and I shall be beginning my
solitary winter. Think of me then, and how good it
always used to be to get back in the autmnn and
start the winter life again. I wonder if those times
will ever come back again just so. God laiows !

Let me hear often. Most affectionately, P.

Hotel Continental, Milan, August 20, 1882.
Dear William, — They have a new hotel at Milan,
so we are not staying where you and I put w^ five
years ago. I have thought very much about our visit
here. Indeed, the whole of the last three weeks has
reminded me of much that we did together in that

202 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

pleasant and memorable smnmer. Florence, Bologna,
Venice, Yerona, we have been to all of them, throwing
in some new places, some of which I had never seen
before. I think that I enjoyed the re-seeing of old
places ahnost, if not quite, as much as the discovery
of new ones. The deepening and filling out of old im-
pressions is very delightful.

Here our summer party begins to go to pieces. Mr.
Richardson and Mr. .Tacques start to-mori"ow morning
for Marseilles and Spain. James, McVickar, and I
go northward by Maggiore and the Simplon to Brieg,
Martigny, Chamomiix, Geneva, and Paris. Our jour-
ney together has been very delightful. Richardson
is full of intelligence and cultivation in his own art,
and Jacques is a pleasant fellow, who has made us all
like him very much. We shall miss them both ex-
ceedingly. Almost no other Americans have come
in our way. I saw Mr. Augustus Lowell and his
family in Venice ; and Daniel Dougherty of Phila-
delphia (whom you and I went once to hear lecture, — •
do you remember?) turned up in the cathedral the
other day.

I thank you for your good letters, and for an
" Advertiser " which I received yesterday. I hope that
you will give a newspaper a chance of reaching me
now and then. ... P.

Hotel de l'Ejipire, Paris, August 28, 1882.
Dear William, — I have just been to the station
to see James and McVickar off for England, whence
James sails on Wednesday for America. You prob-
ably will see him before you get this letter. He will
tell you about our last week, how we made a run
through Switzerland, had a sj)lendid day on the Sim<

PARIS. 203

plon, crossed tlie Tete Noire, just as you and I did five
years ago, found clouds and rain at Clianiounix, so
that we saw nothing there. We just stopped for
dinner at Geneva and came on to Paris, which we
reached early Friday morning. After three pleasant
days together in Paris, they have gone this morning,
and I am all alone.

It has been a delightful summer, and now I feel as
if my work began. A week from to-day I hope to
reach Berlin, where I shall stay for some time. I am
ver}^ anxious to study, and the prosj)ect of unlimited
time for reading opens most attractively. I do not
feel as if it were a waste of time, or mere self-indul-
gence, for all my thought about the work which I
have done for the last twenty years, while it is very
pleasant to remember, makes it seem very superficial
and incomplete. I do not know that I can make what
remains any better, but I am very glad indeed of
the opportunity to try.

On my way to Germany I shall probably meet
Arthur and Lizzie, who are to be in Belgium some
time tliis week. ... I shall be glad to get sight of
them, l)ut it will be very brief, hardly more than a
hand-shake with each other, I am afraid. We have
seen almost no Americans this summer, until we
reached Paris. Yesterday, the little American church
was quite full of them. . . . The Winthrops were at
Chamounix, and we spent an evening with them.
Mr. Winthrop seemed to be enjoying his travels.

Of course, everybody is anxiously watching the
progress of affairs in Egypt. We know no more about
it than you do in America. But the general impres-
sion is that it cannot be a long affair, though the
English are evidently finding Arabi's people stronger

204 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

and braver than they had expected. But any day
they may collapse.

Paris is cold and rainy, not at all the bright and
sunny thing which you saw when you were here. . . .
Always affectionately, P.

Hanover, September 4, 1882.

Dear William, — The great event of the last week
was the meeting of the waters. Two Brooks boys,
Arthur and I, came together in the ancient city of
Cologne. It was Thursday evening when it hap-
j)ened ; Arthur had started that morning from May-
ence and come down the Rhine, the way you laiow,
and I had started from Paris, at an awful hour, and
come all the way through by rail, and we met in the
hall of the Plotel d'HoUande at about eight o'clock
P. M. We had a long talk that evening, and the next
morning we went through the sights of Cologne once
more. Then we took rail to Aix la Chapelle, and I
saw that again in this new company. I had been
there once before this year with James and McVickar.

Then we went to Maestricht, where we spent the
night and saw a queer cave. Then we came to Brus-
sels, with various experiences on the way, and once
more I found myself in that very familiar town.
There we spent a very quiet, pleasant Sunday, went
to church, and talked to each other a great deal. Late
last night, we bade each other a long, long farewell.
This morning, I was called at half past four, and have
come to-day (passing through Cologne again) as far
as here. . . .

I have started my journey three or four times al-
ready. Now to-day it really has begun. I have said
good-by to my last relative, and there is nobody else

BERLIN. 205

whom I have any engagement to meet until I land in
New York a year hence. I am quite alone. To-morrow,
I am going- to Hildesheim and Magdeburg, and the next
day to Berlin. There I shall get your letter, which I
have missed this week, and which will be very wel-
come indeed. I have thanked you most heartily for
all your letters, and have got to comiting upon them
as regularly as the week comes round. So do not ever
dare to omit. . . . Everybody now is expecting an
advance in Egypt, and news of a battle, anyway.
France is getting very restless. There are stormy
times coming in Evu'ope.

I hope you are all well, and happy as kings and
queens, or happier. My love to everybody. P.

Hotel du Nord, Berlin,

September 10, 1882.

My dear Gertie, — This is Sunday morning. It
is just after breakfast, about a quarter before nine
o'clock. In a shop window on this street, I see a
great big clock every time I go out. It has seven
faces, and each face tells what time it is in some one
of the o-reat cities of the world. The one in the middle
tells what time it is in Berlin, and all around that are
the other great cities ; it has not got North Ando-
ver, for that is too small ; it is not one of the great
cities of the world ; but it has New York. Yester-
day, as I passed it about one o'clock, I saw that
it was about five in New York, so I know now
that it cannot be quite three in North Andover.
You will not go to church for a good while yet, so
will have time enough to read my letter twice before
you go.

I came here last Wednesday, and am going to stay

&

206 A YEAR TN EUROPE AND INDIA.

for some time. In fact, I feel as if I lived in Berlin.
I send you a picture of tlie house, with a line drawn
around my two windows. The children at the door
are not you and Agnes. I wish they were.

The children in Paris all wore blouses, and the
children in Venice did not wear much of anything.
Here they all wear satchels. I never saw such chil-
dren for going to school. The streets are f idl of them,
going or coming, all the time. They are queer little
white-headed blue-eyed things, many of them very
pretty indeed, but they grow up into dreadful-looking
men and women. They wear their satchels strapped
on their backs like soldiers' knapsacks, and when you
see a schoolful of three hundred letting out, it is very
funny.

Only two houses up the street lives the Emperor.
He and his wife are out of town now, or no doubt they
would send some word to Toody.

Affectionately your uncle Phillips.

Hotel dp Nord, Berlin,
Sunday, September 17, 1882.

Dear William, — To-day I am going to write and
tell you what I have been doing in Berlin. I have
been here for ten days, and have fallen into the most
regular way of living, just as if I had been a Ber-
liner instead of a Bostonian, and had lived all my
youth in the Unter den Linden instead of in Rows
Street. Do you want to know how it goes ? I get up
in the morning and breakfast at eight o'clock ; then I
go to my room, which is very bi'ight and pleasant,
where I have a lot of books and a good table, at
which I am writing now. Here I stay until eleven
or twelve, reading and studying, mostly German ; then

BERLIN. 207

I go out, see a sight or two, and make calls until
it is two o'clock. Then I go to Dr. Seidel, my
teacher, and take a lesson, reading German with
him for two hours. Then it is dinner-time, for every-
body in Berlin dines very early. They have North
Andover fashions here. Four o'clock is the table
d'hote time at our hotel, and that is rather late. After
dinner I get about two hours more of reading in my
room, and when it is dark I go out and call on some-
body, or find some interesting public place until bed-
time. Is not that a quiet, regular life ?

The people here to whom I had letters have been
kind and civil, so far as they were in town ; but
Berlin ways are very like Boston ways, and the peo-
ple whom one would like to see are largely at North
Andover or Nahant. The family of which I have
seen most is Baron von Bunsen's. He is a son of the
old Bunsen of whom one hears so much in the last
generation, is a very citltivated, intelligent gentleman,
a member of the German Parliament, and an excel-
lent scholar. He has a charming family, and a de-
lightful house in the new part of Berlin, which is very
beautiful. He has given me a good deal of time, going
to museums, etc., and I have been several times at his
house. Tuesday I am to dine there and go with them
to see Schiller's " William Tell."

The theatre here is such a different thing from
what it is with us. It is like a sort of lecture. It
begins at half past six and is out before ten. Ladies
come unattended. Some of them sit and knit. The
whole thing is as quiet as a sewing-circle, and quite
free from any of the air of dissipation that belongs
to theatre-going in America. Of course there are the
other kind of theatres, but I speak of the best sort,

208 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

and those which Government maintains. One night I
went to see " Hamlet " in German. The acting was
poor, but the audience was interesting.

Besides the Bunsens I have seen a good deal of Dr.
Abbott, who has been settled here for forty years, and
knows Berlin through and through. Last night I
dined with him at the Zoological Garden, and saw a
pretty picture of Berlin life. To-morrow I am going
out to dine at Wansee (which seems to be a sort of
Berlin Brookline) with Baron von der Heydt, who is
going to have some of the Court preachers to meet me.
A good many other people have called on me, and
talked about German things and people ; so that I see
all I want to see of folks, and the days are only too
short. Unfortunately, the university is closed, and
the professors are all off on vacations, so that I miss
many men whom I should like to see. Indeed, I fear
the universities all through Germany meet so late,
that if I go to India the first of December I shall be
able to see very little of the professors and to hear
hardly any lectures. But I am counting much on In-
dia. Yesterday I met Lord Amthill, the British min-
ister here, and he offered to give me letters to the
Earl of Ripon, who is Governor-General of India, and
to other people there, which will insure me the chance
to see whatever is going on. What a tremendous vic-
tory Wolseley has gained this week ! Now Arabi will
not block my way.

Do you remember the little statuettes from Tanagra
which are in our Art Museum? There are a great
many here and I am much interested in them. Yes-
terday I found some capital reproductions of them,
and bought three, which are to be sent you by mail.
Well, my paper is full, and though I could go on a

WITTENBERG. 209

week about Berlin, I stop. I am just going down
to preacli at a little Auieriean chapel wliicli is here.
I shall stay about a week longer, and then travel
through Germany. ... P.

Wittenberg, Sunday, September 24, 1882.

My dear Agnes, — I was glad to get your letter,
which reached me a few days ago in Berlin. I think
you were very good indeed to write me, and it was a
nice letter. . . .

Did you ever hear of Wittenberg ? You will find
it on the map, not very far from Berlin. It used to
be a very famous place when Martin Luther lived
here, and was preaching his sermons in the church
whose clock I just now heard strike a quarter of one,
and was writing his books in the room whose picture
is at the top of this sheet of paper. I am sure you
know all about Luther. If not, ask Toody, she
knows most everything. In the picture, you can see
Luther's table, the seat in the window where he and
his wife used to sit and talk, the big stove which he
had built to warm his cold room, and the bust of him-
self, which was taken just after he died, and hung up
here. With the exception of that, everything remains
just exactly as he left it, over three hundred years ago,
before your papa, mamma, or aunt Susan were born.

It is a queer old town. Just now, when it was
twelve o'clock, I heard some music, and looked out
and found that a band of music was playing psalm
tunes away up in the air in the tower of the old parish
church. My window looks out on the market-place,
where there are two statues, one of Luther, and one
of Melanchthon, who was a great friend of his. Ger-
tie will tell you about him. And the houses are

210 A YEAR IJV EUROPE AND INDIA.

the funniest shape, and have curious mottoes carved
or painted over their front door. I came here from
Berlin yesterday, and am going to travel about in
Germany for a few weeks, and then go back to Berlin
again. Berlin is very nice. I wish I could tell you
about a visit which I made, Friday, to one of the
great public schools, where I saw a thousand boys and
a thousand girls, and the way they spelt the hard
words in German woidd have frightened you to death.
Tell Susie that I thank her for her beautiful little
letter, and hope she will write me another. You must
write to me again. Give my best love to everybody,
and do not forget your affectionate uncle P.

Frankfurterhof, Sunday, October 1, 1882.

Dear William, — ... I arrived here late last
night, after spending the whole week on a journey
from Berlin. It was a sort of Luther journey, for I
went to Eisleben, where he was born and died ; Mans-
feld, where he was brought up ; Erfurt, where he
went to school ; Wittenberg, where he was professor ;
Eisenach and the Wartburg, where he was a prisoner ;
Gotha, Weimar, Halle, where he preached ; and Mar-
burg, where he had his great disputation with Zwin-
gii. Here in Frankfort there is a house of his, just
opposite the Dom, which, by the way, they have fin-
ished repairing and have re-opened. I went to service
there this morning, before I went to the little English
chapel where you and I went five years ago.

Besides these Luther visits, I had a pleasant day at
Halle, with Professor Conrad, professor of political
economy, to whom I had a note of introduction, who
was very civil, showing me all over the university
and tellino- me all that I wanted to know about it and

HEIDELBERG. 211

tlie students. There, too, it is vacation. None of the
universities begin until the middle of October, and
many of them not until the first of November, so that
I shall not get much of them. I am now on my way
to Heidelberg, where I hope to stay some time, prob-
ably two or three weeks, so think of me as there when
you get this. I enjoyed Berlin exceedingly, and
fomid the people most courteous and obliging. In-
deed, I made some friends there, especially the Bun-
sens, whom I was very sorry to leave. I may possibly
get back there, but it is not likely. India draws near.
I received a letter from the Peninsular and Oriental
Steamship Company last week, saying they had re-
served a berth for me on the steamer which leaves
Venice the first day of December.

All this about myself. I wonder how it is with you
all. Are you drowned out ? And is General Butler
goino- to be Governor of Massachusetts ? I have had
no letters this week, but shall get them at Heidelberg.
Autumn is here and you are all getting back. I wish
I could look in on Boston for a day. . . .

Ever affectionately, P.

Heidelberg, October 8, 1882.

Dear William, — I suppose that Bishop Williams
is preaching to-day at Trinity, so you are all consider-
ably better off than if your own dear pastor were at
home. . . .

It has been a very pleasant week for me, but not
an eventful one. On Monday I went to Giessen and
saw the university and one or two of the professors.
It is one of the smaller universities, but a very in-
teresting one. Then I went to Worms, which I had
seen before, but at which I wanted to get another look

212 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

tliat I might see some tilings relating to Luther.
From there I came to beautiful Heidelberg, and have
been here since Tuesday night. You saw Heidelberg,
and know something of how beautiful it is. Just now
the hill on which the castle stands is one mass of
splendid color ; almost as bright as anything that one
sees in our American woods are the trees in this valley
of the Neckar. I have my German teacher here and
the use of a library, where I go every day, so I am far
from being idle. Here probably I shall stay through
this week, and then begin slowly to work back to Ber-
lin, where I want to get a week or two more before I
start for the south.

Egypt looks now as if one might find his way
through, but there are great difficulties to be over-
come before the question of its government is settled,
and all Europe is such a tinder-box that a general war
may be lighted at any moment. Just at jjresent it
does not seem as if any of the great powers wanted
much to fight. Certainly Germany does not. The
general feeling among her people seems to be a sort of
dvxll disappointment with the results of the last war.
It has not brought the country either the wealth or
the freedom that they hoped. Germany is poor, and
Bismarck's watchful and jealous eye is on everything.
The people are proud of their splendid army, but they
feel the drain of it tremendously. . . .

There will be no war this winter, and I shall go
to India as quietly as possible in December. You
must be just about getting up in Boston. Good-morn-
ing to you all !

Most affectionately, P.

WURTZBURG. 213

WuRTZBUKG, October 15, 1882.

My dear Gertie, — I owe you a letter ; indeed, I
am afraid that I owe you more than one, but we won't
be very particuhir about that. You shall write as
often as you can, and so will I, and then we will call
it square.

You ought to have a great deal more to say than I,
because Boston is a great deal livelier place than
Wurtzburg, and besides you have lived in Boston all
your life, and know lots of peoj)le there whom I should
like to hear about (including Susie), while I have been
here only since yesterday, and know but one person ;
and you would not care to hear about him, for he is
only a stupid old professor. But you would like to go
down the queer old streets and see the funny houses ;
and you would have liked to see the big church
crowded with people, that I saw this afternoon, and
heard them sing as if they would shake all the carved
and painted saints down off the walls. I wish that
once before I die I could hear the people sing like
that in Trinity Church in Boston. But I never shall.
It was a great day in the church here to-day, because
it was the thousandth anniversary of the death of the
man who built the first church here long before you
were born, and so they had a great procession, and
went down into the crypt under the church, where he
is buried, and sung a Te Deum. I wish you had been
there with me.

Then there is a tremendous great palace where the
bishops used to live. . . . Nobody lives there now, be-
cause bishops are not such great people as they used
to be ; but you can go through it all, and see the
splendid rooms, and there is the loveliest old garden
behind it, with fountains and statues and beautiful

214 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

old trees, where tlie people go and walk about on
pleasant afternoons, and a band plays. If you and
I ever spend an afternoon in Wurtzburg, we will go
there.

I wonder if you have been at Trinity to-day, and
who preached, and whether you know the text, and
whether Sunday-school has begun.

I am on my way from Heidelberg to Berlin. After
I have stayed there for a week or two, I shall go to
Dresden and Prague and Vienna and Venice, and I
have got a ticket to sail in the Poonah from Venice
for Bombay on the first day of December. It is not
as pretty a name as the Servia, and the ship is only
about half as big ; but she is a very good vessel, and
I have no doubt she will get out there safely before
Christmas. I wish you would come to Venice and see
me off, as you did to New York. Good-night and
pleasant dreams. Give my love to everybody and
don't forget

Your affectionate uncle Phillips.

Hotel dtj Nord, Beklin, October 22, 1882.

Dear William, — Just think of its being four
months ago yesterday since you saw the Servia sail.
More than a quarter of my long vacation gone.
Why, 1 shall be walking in on you before you know
it ! And when I hear the report of the first Sruiday
of October at Trinity, and all about Bishop Beckwith's
long and eloquent sermon, it seems as if I were within
speaking distance of you all the time.

I reached here yesterday, after one of the pleasantest
journeys I have ever made. Now it seems like getting
home, to come to this familiar Berlin again. The folks
seem to recognize me upon the streets, and all the

BERLIN. 215

swell guards about tlie royal palace looked as if they
wanted to salute me, but were not quite sure that it
was right. I spent three days this last week at Leip-
sic. It is a very (curious town, full of business, I be-
lieve, but apparently given up to music and education.
The hosts of students on the streets, and the multi-
tudes of concerts everywhere, seem to shut out every-
thing else. I actually went to two concerts myself,
one of them a high Wagner affair, with the most se-
lect and high-toned musical audience. I thought I
should be glad to see what it was like, and I was sur-
prised to find that I rather liked it. I saw one or two
professors, who were very civil, and showed me all
there was to see. It is rather a depressing place, I
think, to one who is conscious of knowing nothing in
particular, and having only a general smattering of
a lot of things. Everybody there is a specialist. One
man is giving himself up to Arabic, another to San-
skrit, another to cuneiform inscriptions, and another
to a particidar sort of bug. So every man has some
subject, on which he talks you out of your depth in
half a minute. It must be a delightfid thing to think
that you know anything, however small, through and
through. If I were twenty-five years younger, and
not minister of Trinity Church, I should go to Leip-
sic and stay there till I knew something, so that no
scholar in the world could puzzle me. Then I would
come home and go into general life with that one lit-
tle corner of omniscience always kept to fall back
upon when I was reminded in some one of the ways
(in which I am constantly reminded) of what an igno-
ramus I am. But it is no use now. And I must go
on with my basket of broken victuals to the end.
So you are back in Boston, and the summer was a

216 A YEAR IN EUBOPE AND INDIA.

great success. I am very glad of it. Who knows but
some day the old Andover house may be our summer
home, as a fixed tlimg, with a pretty little establish-
ment that will make summer as domestic and regular
a time as winter. It would certainly not be bad.
I am glad the children were pleased with the book.
I thought they might like it. ...

Affectionately, P.

Hotel du Nord, Berlin, October 29, 1882.

Dear William, — How the weeks go, don't they ?
It seems impossible that seven days have slipped by
since I wrote you last Sunday. But they have, and
they have been very pleasant ones here. Delightful
weather, — a sort of Indian summer, such as we used to
look for in Boston, and never quite knew whether we
had it or not. I can hear father and aunt Susan at
the old table in Kowe Street, debating about it now.

Berlin is quite different on my return from what it
was when I left it. The people are back, the streets
are crowded, and everything is in fuU blast. The
miiversity lectures began last Monday, and there are
no end of them all the time. It is the freest sort
of institution. The doors of every lecture-room stand
wide open, and any stranger may go in. This week I
have been like a college student, going to hear what
the great men have to say about theology and other
things. I have German enough now to follow a lec-
ture quite satisfactorily, and you do not know how I
enjoy it. Of course I have not taken up any sys-
tematic course of attendance. My time is too short
for that. I only roam round and pick up what I can
and fill it out with reading from the books of the same
men, a good many of which I have. There are four

BERLIN. 217

tlionsancl other students liere in Berlin, so that one
can go and come in the great university quite as he
pleases, and be entirely unnoticed.

A good many people who were away when I was
here before have come back, so that I have as much
social life as I want. The Bunsens have gone to Eng-
land, but Dr. Abbott is here. I go there when I feel
like it, and always meet pleasant people. Then there
is a certain Dr. Kapp, who used to live in New York,
and is now a member of Parliament here, who has
been very civil; Professor Hermann Grimm, who
wrote the Life of Michael Angelo and other things,
and one of the university provosts. Dr. Gneist, who
styles himself on his card " Oherverwaltungsgerichts-
rath^^ — that 's his title.

It is very pleasant to see how quietly and simply
these scholars live, and what cordial, earnest folks
they are. I have also seen something of the ministers,
but I do not think I like them so much as the scholars.
German religion seems to be eaten up with controversy,
and is hampered everywhere by its connection with
the state. There is a certain Pastor St(5cke here, at
whose house I have been, who is the political character
of the town. . . . He and the rest are doing very good
work among the poor.

They have just been having an election for members
of the Reichstag, or Parliament, which has been very
interesting to follow in the papers and in the talk of
the people, though one saw nothing to indicate elec-
tion day in the streets.

This week I leave here for good, and go to Dresden,
where I shall get a week for art. The beautiful gal-
lery there I have never thoroughly seen. I shall have
my books too, and do some studying. Then Vienna,

218 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

where there are splendid pictures also, then Venice
and India.

My heart stood still for a minute the other day
when I opened the paper which you sent me and saw
" Trinity Church on Fire." When I found that they
had put it out and that it was only going to cost the
Corporation $50, I sang a small Te Deum, and con-
cluded to go on with my journey. Thank you for all
your letters. They always tell me just what I want to
know, and cheer me immensely. . . .

. . . Think of me on Thanksgiving Day in Venice.
I shall think of you and wish that we were all in
Clarendon Street. My love to M and the chil-
dren.

Affectionately, P.

Hotel du Nord, Berlin, October 30, 1882.
Johnny dear, — I don't want to break up my life
in Berlin, as I shall in a few days, without writing to
you from what has become very like home to me.
How I wish you were hei^e this morning. First, we
would have a quiet after-breakfast smoke and talk,
then we would put on our hats and stroll across the
street to the univei-sity, where there are some forty
lecture-rooms, a professor hard at work in each of
them, and the whole thing open to anybody who chooses
to drop in. We could hear Dillman firing away at
the Old Testament, Weiss exegesing on St. Luke's
Gospel, Pfleiderer discoursing on the Philosophy of
Religion, or Steinmeyer hai'anguing on Church His-
tory. Hengstenberg is dead, and so is Baumgarten-
Crusius, your friend. There are plenty more of them
left, and if we grew tired of Berlin to-day, why we
could run down to Leipsic to-morrow, where the the-

BERLIN. 219

ology is rather richer than it is here, and where we
coukl hear Luthardt and Delitzsch. We shoukl not
understand all that these men said, but a great deal of
it would be clear enough, and there would be lots to
think and talk about when we came out. Then after
an hour or two of this we would go into the Thiei-gar-
ten, the most fascinating park in Europe, and perfectly
delightful on these Indian summer days. There we
would wander about and talk some more. We would
come home to a queer dinner at four o'clock, and,
if you liked, at half past six we could go to the thea-
tre and see a play of Schiller, or, if you preferred, go
to see some pleasant people, who are abundant and
always hospitable in this cheerful, busy town. Then
we 'd come home and smoke and talk some more ever
so late. You must come quickly, or we cannot do
this, because I am starting Wednesday, — bound for
Dresden, Vienna, and Venice, whence I sail on the
1st of December.

It has all been very delightfid and wholly different
from any experience which I have ever had before in
Europe. I shall remember Berlin and many of the
people in it with delight. There are hosts of Amer-
ican students here, but they hide themselves in Ger-
man families as much as possible, and one sees little
of them. There is much work being done, and the
thorou"hness of their real scholars makes me feel
awfully su^perficial and ashamed.

I am delighted to hear how very successful your
house and your summer have been. I hope that they
have put you in splendid condition for the winter.
. . . Another year I shall be there again, and mean-
while you will tell me all about it, won't you? I
think the beauty of being here for a while is that it

220 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

makes the things at home which really are worth
caring for seem all the more precious.

Now I am going out to hear a lecture, then I shall
go into the Gallery for an hour, then take a German
lesson, and get a little more of this good place before I
leave it. Think of me often, and be sure I think of
you. . . . My love to Hattie and the babies.

Ever affectionately, P.

H6tel Bellevue, Deesden,

November 5, 1882.

Dear William, — The scene is changed, and this
is Dresden, instead of Berlin. I left that big town for
good on Thursday, and shall not see it again ; but I
have had a first-rate time there, and shall remember
it most pleasantly, Dresden is prettier than Berlin,
and the Sistine Madonna is over there in the Musemn,
so I am enjoying a few days here very much indeed.
I get a good deal of time for reading my German, and
am just beginning to get up the books on India, which
now seems to be drawing very near.

I have no friends here, except one or two families,
to whom my Berlin friends introduced me, but that
does not so much matter for a few days. Robert
Cusliing and his family are staying in this hotel.
Henry Potter, his wife and three children, are living
in town. I dined with them last night. This morn-
ing I preached at the American church, and this
evening I have promised to preach for the Scotch
Presbyterians, so it is rather more like Sunday than
any first day of the week that I have passed for a
good while. I shall leave here probably Wednesday,
and after stopping a few days in Prague, shall go to
Vienna, where I hope to make a considerable stay.

PRAGUE. 221

Think of me there when you get this letter. Of course
you have seen the terrible accounts of the floods on
the southern side of the Tyrolese mountains. Among
their smaller mischiefs, they make the access to Ven-
ice very uncertain, so that I am not quite sure how I
shall get at my steamer. I shall get there somehow,
probably by rail from Vienna to Trieste, and thence
by sea to Venice.

Your last letter brought things at home up to the
16th of October. Perry had just preached in Trin-
ity. Does it not seem strange to think how long
ago it was that he used to be with Dr. Vinton at
St. Paul's, and that we are the same fellows as the
boys who used to listen to him there ? The minister
of the American church, for whom I preached to-day,
is a Mr. Caskey, who succeeded Arthur in Williams-
port. What a time we would have before the Ma-
donna to-morrow, if you were only here ; the concerts
and operas in Dresden are tremendous. No matter ;
some day when I get back we will go to the Art Mu-
seum and the Music Hall together, and make believe
that it is pretty little Dresden. ...

Prague, November 12, 1882.
. . . You never saw Prague, did you ? You must
some day. It is immensely curious and picturesque.
It is Austrian, and Austria is poor stuff by the side of
Germany. Austria really seems to be no nation at
all, made uj) as it is of a heap of people and languages,
which have no association with each other. Germany
has ideas, and a great notion of her future, and of
having^ a mission in the world. All that makes her
interesting. Austria has nothing of the kind, and her
petty tyranny is endless. These riots in Vienna are

222 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

signs o£ what a suppressed and discontented life her
people lead. But still she is worth seeing, and for
two weeks I shall be on her soil. Thanksgiving Day
I spend in Venice, and the next day the Poonah sails,
so think of me as you eat your turkey, dining at Dani-
elis, and direct your letters after you get this, until
further notice, to the care of Messrs. Lang, Moir &
Co., Bombay.

Will you tlo an errand for me? Will you go into
Williams's and get two copies of my " Influence of
Jesus " and send them to some Berlin friends, to
whom I have promised them ?

Gkand Hotel, Vienna, Novemlier 19, 1882.
Very 2)rivate 1 !
Dear Gertie, — This letter is an awful secret be-
tween you and me. If you tell an^^body about it, I will
not speak to you all this winter. And this is what it
is about. You know Christmas is coming, and I am
afraid that I shall not get home by that time, and so
I want you to go and get the Christmas presents for the
children. The grown people will not get any from me
this year. But I do not want the children to go with-
out, so you must find out, in the most secret way, just
what Agnes and Toodie would most like to have, and
get it and put it in their stockings on Christmas Eve.
Then you must ask yourself what you want, but with-
out letting yourself know about it, and get it too, and
put it in your own stocking, and be very much sur-
prised when you find it there. And then you must
sit down and think about Josephine De Wolf and the
other baby at Spring-field whose name I do not know,
and consider what they would like, and have it sent

VIENNA. 223

to them in time to reach them on Christmas Eve.
AVill you do all this for me ? You can spend five dol-
lars for each child, and if you show your father this
letter, he will give you the money out of some of mine
which he has got. That rather breaks the secret, but
you will want to consult your father and mother about
what to get, especially for the Springfield children ; so
you may tell them about it, but do not dare to let any
of the children laiow of it until Christmas time. Then
you can tell me in your Christmas letter just how you
have managed about it all. . . .

This has taken up almost all my letter, and so I
cannot tell you much about Vienna. Well, there is
not a great deal to tell. It is an immense great city
with very splendid houses and beautiful pictures and
fine shops and handsome people. But I do not think
the Austrians are nearly as nice as the ugly, honest
Germans. Do you ?

Perhaps you will get this on Thanksgiving Day. If
you do, you must shake the turkey's paw for me, and
tell him that I am very sorry I could not come this
year, but I shall be there next year certain ! Give
my love to all the children. I had a beautiful letter
from aunt Susan the other day, which I am going to
answer as soon as it stops raining. Tell her so, if you
see her. Be a good girl, and do not study too hard,
and keep our secret.

Your affectionate uncle Phillips.

Gkand Hotel, Vienna, November 22, 1882.
Dear aunt Susan, — No letter since I left home
has given me more pleasure than yours which I re-
ceived a week ago. It took me back into North An-
dover, and made me feel as if we were all in the little

224 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

parlor, and the Austrian town which I coukl see out
of the window were all a dream. You were very
good indeed to keep your promise, and I hope I shall
hear from you more than once again before I drive
up to the side yard door next autumn.

. . . We had a small snowstorm here yesterday,
and to-day the hills around Vienna are all white with
snow. I wish you could escape the winter, as I mean
to do, by running down into countries where the only
trouble about winter weather is the heat. The second
week in December, when you get this, and when the
whole of North Andover is shivering with cold, we
shall be running down the Red Sea and trying to get
into the shade of anything to keep ourselves cool, and
looking over the side of the Poonah to see if we can
see any of Pharaoh's chariot- wheels.

It is eighteen years since I was in Vienna, on my
first European journey. Then I was on my way to
Palestine. One difference between that year abroad
and this I feel all the time. Then the old home in
Chauncy Street was still there, and father and mother
were both waiting to hear what one was doing, and
one of my pleasures was to write to them and to think
how I would tell them all about it when I got back. I
miss all that part of the interest of travel very much
now. Sometimes it is hard to realize that they are
not still there, and that I am not to write to them. At
this distance all that has come since I was here before
seems like a dream.

I hope by Christmas that the window in their mem-
ory will be in the little church. William writes me
that it is getting on, and I shall be glad to know that
it is fairly in its place. I hope it will be there for
years to keep people reminded of them. You must tell

VENICE. 225

me how you like it when it is up. It seems as if we
came pretty near losing Trinity Church lately by fire.
It would have been a pretty hard thing to have to go to
work and build it all up again. As it is, they seem to
be having trouble with it in the way of repairs. I
hope your new church will tempt no incendiaries and
meet no accidents.

If I were in Boston I would come up to Andover this
afternoon. But as I am in Vienna, I can only send
this letter to tell you I am thinking of you. My best
love to aunt Sarah and aunt Caroline.

Your affectionate nephew Phillips.

Venice, November 26, 1882.

Dear William, — It is a rainy Sunday in Venice,
which, as you may imagine, is not a very cheerful
thing. The gondolas are dripping at the quay out-
side, and San Giorgio looks duU and dreary through
the mists. . . . Now that I have come home, and have
got a fire in my room, spread out my German books,
and lighted my pipe, everything is cheerful inside,
however dreary the outside may be, I have just come
here to get a few quiet days of Venice, before the
Poonah sails. She is here, lying in the harbor ; and
I have been on board and looked her over. She is a
beautiful, great vessel, with a big, broad deck and a
bright, pleasant cabin, looking as if she might be a
capital home for three weeks. . . .

My stateroom is on deck, with air aU around It, and
I have it to myself, so I am counting very much upon
my voyage. How I wish you were going to take it
with me ! What delightful days and nights we would
have down the Eed Sea and across the Indian Ocean !
The officers of the ship say that at this season the ther-

226 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

mometer does not go above seventy, even in the Red
Sea, and that there is never any chance of bad
weather in December between Suez and Bombay. It
seems to be the very perfection of ship life. . . .

I had a very good time in Vienna, where I stayed
about a week. I do not think I like the city much,
certainly not as well as Berlin. But then I knew
none of the people, which made a difference. The
Brimmers were there part of the time, and it was
pleasant to see them. Also Judge Endicott and his
family, who were at the hotel all the time I was there.
I am very sorry Mr. Brimmer could not go to India.
... I shall go alone now, unless possibly a young
collegian of this last class at Cambridge, a friend of
Arthur's, Evert Wendell, shoidd go on the same
steamer. I saw him in Berlin, and he wants to go and
has sent to ask his father's leave.

. . . The Venetians are going to have a great fete
and concert to-night and to-morrow in the piazza, for
the benefit of the sufferers b}^ the floods. A month
ago the whole ground floor of this hotel was three feet
mider water. I wish you woidd go to India with
me. . . .

Steamship Poonah, lying at Bkindisi,
Sunday, December 3, 1882,

Dear William, — ... The Poonah is an old ship,
rather noisy, not at all fast, and not very clean. But
she is well arranged, and in good weather must be
very pleasant. The sail from Venice to Brindisi
has been cold, rough, and rainy. The Adriatic has
behaved badly. We could not touch at Ancona,
which is on the programme, because of the rough
weather. This Sunday morning is bright, but cold

IN THE SUEZ CANAL. 227

and windy ; not a bit of suggestion of the tropics yet.
In a day or two we shall get it, and I only hope we
shall not get too much. The people on the Poonah,
so far, are not very interesting, but they are only a
few. The best are supposed to come on board here at
Brindisi, having come by rail from London, so I hope
when we sail to-morrow morning, we shall find our-
selves in the midst of that delightful society which
the voyage to India has always been said to furnish.
Young Wendell is on board, having turned up at the
last moment in Venice. He makes bright, pleasant
company, and we shall probably be together through
India.

Thanksgiving Day passed quietly in Venice. I did
not preach, or even go to church, except to ]Day a fare-
well visit to St. Mark's. I dined with the WaUeys.
They are staying in Venice, keeping house in an apart-
ment, and asked me to dine with them. We had a
turkey, and did the best we could to keep Thanks-
giving, and it went off well. . . .

Think of the Poonah, when you get this, as paddling
across the Indian Ocean, and wave your hat in that
direction. I shall see it and wave mine back. A
happy Christmas to you all. Now I am going on
shore to see Brindisi.

Steamship Pookah, in the Suez Canal,
December 9, 1882.

Dear Johnny, — You do not know what a queer-
looking thing this big ditch is, with the long stretches
of sand reaching out on either side, and the curious
effects of light everywhere in the distance, and the
superb blue sky, and our great steamer slowly plodding
alono- at about six miles an hour towards the Red Sea.

228 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

And inside the steamer it is just as queer, a host of
wikl-looking- ruffians for sailors, and a lot of English-
men. It is all very pleasant and foreign. I have
been up on deck all the morning, looking at the
strange figures who occasionally appear on the banks,
watching the steamboats which pass us every now and
then, and talking with the Englishmen who are men-
tioned above. I have got a little tired of it all, so I
thought I would come down into the cabin and send
you a greeting which I will mail to-night at Suez, and
which you will get almost, if not quite, in time to wish
you a Merry Christmas !

What are you doing ? Every now and then there
comes some glimpse of the old life going on at home.
Sermons and convocations and clubs, and the winter
season wdth its work gradually thickening around
you. . . .

I wonder who will be up to the mark of honestly
admiring A. V. G. Allen's remarkable paper in the
" Princeton Review," and seeing how the change which
he has described so ably is every whit as important
and significant as the reformation of three hundred
years ago. Surely the club and the church ought to
be proud of the man who wrote the article.

Have you got some good carols for Christmas, and
a good text for your Christmas sermon ? I feel al-
most like writing one myself and asking some Hindoo
in Bombay to lend me his mosque in which to preach it.

I hope you went to the December club, and that it
was a success. I shall hear all about it in India and
will tell Chunder Sen. We are getting to Ismailia,
and I must go up on deck and see. Good-by. A
Merry Christmas and God bless you to you and Ilattie
and the children. Ever affectionately, P.

SUEZ. 229

Suez, Sunday Morning, December 10, 1882.

Dear William, — We are just tying up to the
wliarf in Suez, and nobody seems to know how long
we are to stay before we start on our voyage down the
Red Sea. I will write my Sunday letter at once, and
tell you that I have come thus far in happiness, health,
and safety, and in the Poonah. I sent Gertie a postal
card the other day from Alexandria, which I hope she
will excuse. I am not in the habit of sending postal
cards, but there was no other way. We were only
there for a very short time and all the time we had
was spent on shore. It was curious to see the results
of the war so close at hand. The great square of
Alexandria is all in ruins, and looks like Liberty
Square in Boston after the great fire. The forts which
brought on the bombardment are all banged to pieces,
and the guns are standing on their heads. There
must have been some wonderfid firing on the English-
men's part.

Then we sailed over to Port Said, the steamer roll-
ing about badly in the long swell. There was plenty
of room at the dinner-table on Thursday. Port Said
looks as I remember seeing Lawrence look when father
took us there from grandmother's, one day when we
were boys. It is an extemporized town of shanties and
cheap buildings, with everything to sell, which it is
supposed that uncomfortable and extravagant travelers
will buy. Only the population does not look like
Lawrence people. They are brown Egyptians and
Nubians as black as coals, and a few British soldiers
with white pith helmets and red coats.

The sail down the canal has been delightful. The
air was fresh and bright as spring, yet had the warmth
of siunmer in it. The atmosphere was delightful, and

230 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

though we sometimes ran between high banks of sand,
which hid everything, most of the time the view was
made up of long stretches of desert, reaching away to
distant hills, with effect of light and color on them, all
which were beautiful. This morning I saw out of iny
stateroom window a glorious sunrise, just such as the
children of Israel must have seen on their famous ti'ip
from Egypt into Palestine some years ago. We passed
yesterday Ismailia, where the British headquarters
were this autumn, and saw the way they started to
Tel El Kebir. And thei-e we heard of the verdict in
Arabi's case, about which nobody seemed to care.

Now we really start upon our voyage. Up to this
point has been mere preparation. Here the passengers
for Australia and Calcutta leave us, and we take on
board the passengers for Bombay, who have come all
the way by sea from London. We shall be quite a
new company. We have lost two or three days by
having to go through the canal, and shall not be in
Bombay certainly before the 22d, perhaps not till later.
I like the ship, the people, the life on board, and all is
going beautifully. Merry Christmas to you all. . . .

On the Poonah, December 15, 1882.

Dear William, — I write my Sunday letter this
week on Friday, because to-night we are to arrive at
Aden, and there can mail our epistles. There will not
be another chance until we come to Bombay. All
this week we have been running down the Red Sea.
The weather has been sultry and oppressive ; not par-
ticularly hot by the thermometer, but such weather as
makes one want to get in a draft and do nothing. In
the great cabin, the punkas are hung up, long cloth
fans, which are fastened to a rod that rmis along

ON THE POONAH. . 231

the ceiling over the dining-table ; every moal-time
they are kept swinging by a long cord, which runs
through the skylight, and is attached at the other end
to a small Mohammedan on deck, who pulls, and pulls,
and pulls. We could hardly live without it. This
morning we were passing Mocha, where the coffee
comes from, and this afternoon we shall g^o throush
Bab-el-Mandel. When we are once out into the Indian
Ocean, the special sultriness of the Red Sea will be
over, and we shall have a week of charming sailing.

The ship is very comfortable, but she is old and
slow. She is four days behind her time, and we shall
not be at Bombay before Saturday, the 23d, more than
three weeks from the time we left Venice. But it has
been very pleasant. There is a miscellaneous and
interesting company on board. Here is the general
who led the cavalry charge at Tel El Kebir, and is
coming back from England after being decorated by
the Queen. Here is Lord Charles Beresford, who ran
his boat up under the guns at Alexandria at the time
of the bombardment, and did wonders of bravery.
Here is a young Cambridge parson, going out to a
missionary brotherhood at Delhi. Here are merchants
of Calcutta and Madras, whom one pumps continually
for information about India, — Englishmen, all of
them. At Bombay we shall break up, and I sup-
pose I shall stay there about a week, and then travel
by Delhi, Jeypore, Agra, Lucknow, Allahabad, and
Benares to Calcutta, taking about a month, bringing
us to Calcutta about the 1st of February. A week
there, a week's trip to the mountains, and a two weeks'
journey to Madras and its neighborhood, Vv'ill bring
us to Ceylon about the 1st of March ; after a week
there we sail again, direct for Aden and Suez. So

232 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

there is our winter. And you can tell about where
we are at any time. . . .

There is a long gap in letters. The last was yours,
which reached me just as I went on board at Venice.
The next will not come until the steamer after ours
reaches Bombay, but I am sure you are all well and
happy, and getting ready for Christmas in the old
cheerful fashion. I shall think of you all that day, as
I sit sweltering in church at Bombay.

Ever affectionately, P.

Bombay, Sunday, December 24, 1882.

' Dear William, — In India at last ! And you do
not know how queer and beautiful it is. I wiU tell
you about it. On Friday night, at eleven o'clock, the
slow old Poonali dropped her anchor in the harbor
opposite the Apollo Bandar, which is the landing-
place of Bombay. That night we slept on board, but
by six the next morning we were in a boat and being
rowed to shore, where we had a jolly good breakfast
at Watson's Hotel. While we were eating- it, two
gentlemen sent in their cards. One was Mr. Georae
A. Kittredge, who is the head of the Tramway Sys-
tem here. The other gentleman was Mr. Charles
Lowell, who is a son of the Rev. Dr. Lowell, who used
to be at St. Mark's School. These two gentlemen
insisted on taking charge of us during our stay in
Bombay. Lowell is in the banking business here.
We were immediately carried to his bungalow, and
here I write to you.

Fancy an enormous house, rambling into a series of
immense rooms, all on one floor, piazzas twenty feet
deep, immense chambers (in the middle of which
stand the beds), doors and windows wide open, the

BOMBAY. 233

grounds filled with palms, bananas, and all sorts of
tropical trees, tlie song of birds, the chirp of insects
everywhere, and a dazzling sun blazing down on the
Indian Ocean in front. A dozen or more dusky Hin-
doo servants, barefooted, dressed in white, with bright
sashes around their waists and bright turbans on their
heads, are moving about everywhere, as still as cats,
and with no end of devotion to their little duties. One
of them seems to have nothing to do but to look after
me ; he has worked over my limited wardrobe till he
knows every shirt and collar better than I do myself.
He is now brushing my hat for the twelfth time this
morning. The life is luxurious. Quantities of de-
lightful fruit, cool lounging-places, luxurious chairs, a
sumptuous breakfast (or "tiffin," as we call it here),
and dinner table, and no end of kind attention. I am
writing in my room on the day before Christmas as if
it were a rather hot August morning at home.

Yesterday, we drove about the town and began our
sight of Indian wonders : Hindoo temples, with their
squatting ugly idols ; Mahommedan mosques ; bazaars
thronged with every Eastern race ; splendid English
buildings where the country is ruled ; a noble univer-
sity ; Parsee merchants in their shops ; great tanks
with the devotees bathing in them ; officers' bungalows,
with the handsome English fellows lounging about ;
wedding processions, with the bride of six years old
riding on the riclily decorated horse behind the bride-
groom of ten, surrounded by their friends, and with a
tumidt of horrible music ; markets overrunning with
strange and delicious fruits ; wretched-looking saints
chattering gibberish and begging alms, — there is no
end to the interest and curiosity of it all ! And this
is dead winter in the tropics. I have out all my thin-

234 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

nest clothes, and go about witli an umbrella to keep
off the sun. This morning, we started at half past six
for a walk through the sacred part of the native town,
and now at ten it is too hot to walk any more till sun-
down. But there are carriages enough, and by and
by we go to church, I was invited to preach at the
cathedral, but declined.

We shall be in and about Bombay for about a
week. You must not think that we shall suffer from
the heat. This is the hottest place that we shall visit.
As soon as we leave here we shall be in the hills, and
by and by shall see the thermometer at zero. How I
shall think of you to-morrow ! It is liolidays here, and
our friends have nothing to do but to look after us.
Banks close for four days ! Good-by, my love to you
all always.

Bombay, Tuesday, December 26.
Do you care to know how we spent Christmas ? I
will tell you. We arose in the cool of the morning at
six o'clock. After we had a cup of tea, some fruit and
bread and butter, the open carriage was at the door,
and we put on our pith helmets to keep off the sun,
and drove away. First we went to the Jain hospital
for animals. The Jains are a curious sect of Hin-
doos, and one of their ideas is the sacredness of ani-
mal life. So they have this great hospital, where they
gather all the sick and wounded animals they can find,
and cure them if they can, or keep them till they die.
The broken-legged cows, sick pigeons, mangy dogs,
and melancholy monkeys are very curious. We stayed
there a while, and then drove to the Parsee burial-
place. The Parsees are Persian sun-worshipers, who
have been settled here for centuries, and are among

BOMBA Y. 235

the most intelligent and enterprising citizens. Their
pleasant way of disposing of their dead is to leave a
body on a high tower, where vnltures devoted to that
business come, and in about an hour consume all its
flesh, leaving the bones, which, after four weeks of
drying in the sun, are tumbled into a common pit,
where they all crumble together into dust. You see
the towers with the vultures waiting on top for the
next arrival, but no one is allowed to enter.

Then we came home and had our breakfast, after
which we drove into the town, whence I sent a telegram
of " Merry Christmas " to you at eleven o'clock. We
went to the service at the Cathedral, which was very
good. . . . Then I drove out to the Government House,
where the Governor, Sir James Fergusson, had invited
me to lunch. Very pleasant people were there, and
the whole thing was interesting. The drive out and in,
about four miles each way, was through the strangest
population, and in the midst of the queerest sights.
After my return (I went there alone) we wandered
about the native bazaars and saw their curious trades.
At eight o'clock, Mr. Kittredge gave us a sumptuous
dinner at the BycuUa Club, where with turkey, plmn
pudding, and mince-pies, we made the best which we
knew how of that end of Christmas Day. After that,
about ten o'clock, we wandered out into a native fair,
where we saw their odd performances until late into
the night, when we drove home along the cool sea-
shore, and went to bed tired but happy, after the fun-
niest Christmas Day we ever passed.

We go off now for a short trip to Karli and Poonah
to see some curious old Buddhist temples. When we
get back from there, we start for a long journey to
Ahmadabad, Jeypore, Delhi, Lahore, Agra, Lucknow,

236 A YEAR JN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Cawnpore, Allahabad, Benares, and Calcutta. This
will take three weeks or a month.

I hope you had a happy Christmas. And now a
happy New Year to you ! Hurrah for 1883 ! I hope
you will have a splendid watch-meeting and think
of me. ...

Bombay, January 2, 1883.

Dear William, — A happy New Year to you !
May 1883 be the happiest of any yet ! I see no reason
why it should not be. We shall not frisk about quite
as much as we did thirty years ago, when we were boys.
For all that, there are soberer joys even for such old
chaps as you and I, and if the birds fly somewhat more
sluggislily than of old, why perhaps it will be all the
easier to get the salt on their tails. So a happy New
Year to you ! The new year broke on me as I was
driving in a tonga from Deogaon to Nandgaon. A
tonga is a queer sort of dogcart, drawn by two sharp
little ponies with a yoke over their necks, as if they
were oxen ; — you see we have been spending a good
part of the last week in going up to the hills to see
the wonderfvil Buddhist and Braminical caves and
temples. Sunday we spent in a bungalow on the top
of a hot hill, out of which two thousand years ago
these wonderful people hewed these marvelous affairs.

Think of a structure bigger than Trinity Church,
with spires, columns, and domes a hundred feet high,
which is not a structure at all, but is carved out of
solid rock and hewn into chambers, corridors, court-
yards, and shrines ; covered, in almost every inch of
its surface inside and out, with sculptures, some very
big and stately, some as fine as jewels, and all full of
the most interesting religious and historical meaning.

BOMBA Y. 237

Think of that, old fellow ! That is the most splen-
did of the caves, but there are thirty-five of them,
all more or less wonderful, and some almost as fine
as this. We spent Sunday there, and Sunday night
about ten o'clock (for you do everything you can
by night to avoid the heat) we took our tongas
and drove six hours down from Ellora, where the
caves are, to the railway. On the way, just as we
were stopping to change ponies, and some half-naked
Hindoos were howling to each other over their ar-
rangement, and the Southern Cross was blazing in the
sky, and the moon struggling ujj, 1883 came tripping in.
I thought of you at home, and wondered whether you
were having a v/atch-meetiiig and what you thought of
the New Year ; then I remembered it was only three
o'clock in Boston, and that you were just going to
afternoon church. So I tumbled back into the tonaa
again and we jolted on.

You see I am getting somewhat at the country. It
is interesting far beyond anything I expected. Our
friends, Kittredge and Lowell, have been more kind
and devoted than you can imagine. No one in a week
could have seen more, or seen it better, than we. This
afternoon we leave Bombay and launch out for oui--
selves. We have a capital fellow for a traveling ser-
vant, a dusky gentleman with a turban and a petti-
coat, a low-caste Hindoo named Huri. When you get
this, about the 1st of February, we shall have passed
through northern India and shall be in Calcutta. In
a day or two we shall get out of excessive heat, and
not be troubled with it again until we leave Calcutta
for southern India. I am splendidly well. My young
traveling companion is very pleasant. I love you all
very much, and hope you will remember

Phillips.

238 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Bankapur, Tuesday, January 3, 1883.

Dear Lizzie,^ — Since I wrote you, we have come
over from Benares, and to-day have been making^ a
delightful excursion to Buddh-gaya, where, as Sir
Edwin Arnold tells us so prettily, Gautama sat six
years under a bo-tree, and thought and thought, until
at last the Dukha-Satya was opened to him, and Bud-
dhism began. In these days, when a large part of
Boston prefers to consider itself Buddhist rather than
Christian, I consider this pilgrimage to be the duty
of a minister who preaches to Bostonians, and so this
morning before sunrise we started for Gaya and the
red Barabar Hills.

We had slept in the railway station, which is not
an uncommon proceeding in the out of the way parts
of India, where there is no pretense of a hotel, and
where you do not know anybody to whose bungalow
you can drive up, as you can to that of almost any
man to whom you ever bowed in the street. They are
a most hospitable folk, only when you go to stay with
them you are expected to bring your own bedding and
yoiir own servant, which saves them lots of trouble.
Think of my appearing at your door some afternoon
with a mattress and Katie. We had to drive ten
miles in a rattling gharry, and as we went the sun
rose just as it did on Buddha, in the same landscape
in the fifth book of the " Light of Asia," which (as
you see) I have been reading with the greatest in-
terest. We had to walk the last two miles, because
the ponies, who must have been Mohammedans, would
not go any farther. It was a glorious morning, and
by and by we suddenly turned into an indescriba-
ble ravine. One tumbled mass of shrines and mon-
uments, hundreds on hundreds of them, set up for the

1 A sister in law.

BANK A PUR. 239

last two tliousand years by pilgrims. In the midst,
two hundred feet high, a queer fantastic temple
(which has been rebuilt again and again) which has
in it the original Buddha figure of Asoka's time ; a su-
jjerb great altar statue, calm as eternity, and on the
outside covered with gold-leaf, the seat on which the
Master sat those six long years. The bo-tree has de-
parted long ago, and the temples were not there when
he was squatting and meditating, but the landscape was
the same, and though this is one of the places where
thousands of pilgrims come from both the Buddhist
and the Brahmin worlds, the monmnents which they
set up are not as interesting as the red hills on one
side, and the open plain on the other, which Sakya
must have seen when he forgot for a moment to gaze
at the soles of his own feet and looked upon the
outer world.

It is a delightful country, this India, and now the
climate is delightful. The Indian winter is like the
best of our Indian summer, and such mornings and
midnights you never saw. We had two weeks in
Delhi, because my companion, Evert Wendell, must
needs pick up the small-pox. It is rather good to
know one town of a great country so well as I know
that, and it is on the whole, I suppose, the most inter-
esting town in India. I think I know every one of
its superb old tombs by heart. Wendell could not
have chosen a better place, if he was bound to do
such a ridiculous thing at all.

I wished you a happy New Year when the old year
left us in the midst of a night drive among the hills.
I hope you felt my wish around the globe, or through
it, which ever way wishes go. May everything go
beautifully with you. May you get all you want and

240 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

nothing wliicli you do not want. It will be bad for
you, but it will be pleasant. May the new church be
better even than you expect. May you get any num-
ber of dry concerts and delightful books. May I come
and see you flourishing gloriously through it all next
September. I am not sure just what you want, but,
whatever it is, may you get it abundantly. Give my
best love to Arthur, and write me all about what you
are doing. Affectionately, P.

Jeypore, January 7, 1883.

My dear Gertie, — I wish you had been here with
me yesterday. We would have had a beautiful time.
You would have had to get up at five o'clock, for at
six the carriage was at the door, and we had already
had our breaMast. But in this country you do every-
thing you can very early, so as to escape the hot sun.
It is very hot in the middle of the day, but quite cold
now at night and in the mornings and evenings. Well,
as we drove into the town (for the bungalow where we
are staying is just outside), the sun rose and the streets
were full of light.

The town is all painted pink, which makes it the
queerest-looking place you ever saw, and on the outsides
of the pink houses there are pictures drawn, some of
them very solemn and some very funny, which makes it
very pleasant to drive up the street. We drove through
the street, which was crowded with camels and elephants
and donkeys, and women wrapped up like bundles,
and men chattering like monkeys, and monkeys them-
selves, and naked little children rolling in the dust,
and playing queer JeyjDore games. All the little girls,
when they get to be about your age, Iiang jewels in
their noses, and the women all have their noses loofc

JEYPORE. 241

ing beautiful in this way. I have got a nose jewel for
you, which I shall put in when I get home, and also a
little button for the side of Susie's nose, such as the
smaller children wear. Think how the girls at school
will admire you.

Well, we drove out the other side of the queer pink
town, and went on toward the old town, which they
deserted a hundred years ago, when they built this.
The priest told the rajah, or king, that they ought not
to live more than a thousand years in one place, and
so, as the old town was about a thousand years old,
the king left it ; and there it stands about five miles
off, with only a few beggars and a lot of monkeys for
inhabitants of its splendid palaces and temples. As
we drove along toward it, the fields were full of pea-
cocks and all sorts of bright-winged birds, and out of
the ponds and streams the crocodiles stvick up their
lazy heads and looked at us.

The hills around are full of tigers and hyenas, but
they do not come down to the town, though I saw a
cage of them there which had been captured only about
a month and were very fierce. Poor things ! When
we came to the entrance of the old town, there was a
splendid great elephant waiting for us, which the rajah
had sent. He sent the carriage, too. The elephant
had his head and trunk beautifully painted, and
looked almost as big as Jumbo. He knelt down, and
we climbed up by a ladder and sat upon his back, and
then he toiled up the hill. I am afraid he thought
Americans must be very heavy, and I do not know
whether he could have carried you. Behind us, as we
went up the hill, came a man leading a little black
goat, and when I asked what it was for, they said it
was for sacrifice. It seems a horrid old goddess has

242 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

a temple on the hill, and years ago they used to sac-
rifice men to her, to make her happy and kind. But
a merciful rajah stopped that, and made them sacri-
fice goats instead, and now they give the horrid old
goddess a goat every morning, and she likes it just
as well.

When we got into the old town, it was a perfect
wilderness of beautiful things, — lakes, temples, pal-
aces, porticos, all sorts of things in marble and fine
stones, with sacred long-tailed monkeys running over
all. But I must tell you all about the goddess, and
the way they cut off the poor goat's little black head,
and all the rest that I saw, when I get home. Don't
you wish you had gone with me ?

Give my love to your father and mother and Agnes
and Susie. I am dying to know about your Christ-
mas and the jiresents. Do not forget yom' affection-
ate uncle Phillips.

Cambridge Mission, Delhi, January 10, 1883.

Dear Johnny, — A hapi:)y New Year to you and

H and both the babies. I received a beautiful

letter from you in Bombay, which deserves a better
answer than I am afraid it will get from me before
dinner is ready. It was full of the sj^irit of home
work, and of all those pleasant things to which I shall
be glad enough to get back by and by, pleasant as it
is meanwhile to be wandering in these queer places.

Do you see where I am writing? On the voyage
from Aden to Bombay I met a young Church of Eng-
land missionary, with whom I had a good deal of talk,
and who asked me, when I came to Delhi, to put up
with him. So here we are. Three young fellows, all

DELHI. 243

graduates of Cambridge, scholars and gentlemen, live
here together, and give themselves to missionary work.
They have some first-rate schools, and are just start-
ing a high-class college. They preach in the bazaars,
and have their mission stations out in the country,
where they constantly go. I have grown to respect
them thoroughly. Serious, devoted, self-sacrificing
fellows they are, rather high churchmen, but thought-
ful and scholarly, and with all the best broad church
books upon their shelves. They are jolly, pleasant
companions as possible, and yesterday I saw a cricket
match between their school and the Government school
here, in which one of these parsons played a first-rate
bat. Under their guidance I have seen very thor-
oughly this wonderful old city, the great seat of the
Mogul Empire, excessively rich in the best Moham-
medan architecture.

How I wish you would ask me something about the
Aryans, Davidians, about Brahmins, or Buddhists, or
Parsees, or Mussulmans, or Jains. I could tell you
all about them, but perhaps yoii do not care so much
as one gets to care here, where the snarly old history
becomes a little bit untangled, and you get immensely
interested in the past of this enormous people. One
goes about picking up all sorts of bits and piecing
them together. To-day it is a Cambridge missionary.
Yesterday it was a traveling Calcutta Brahmin. Last
week it was a Parsee merchant, with whom I got a
scrap of talk, and all the time there are wonderful
sights, — Buddhist caves, Jain temples, woods full of
monkeys and j^eacocks, rides on elephants, visits to
the English governors, and, first of all, three or four
charming days at the Bombay bungalow of Charles
Lowell.

244 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

I wish you were here, and we could talk it all over,
and to-morrow night start together for Ainritsir and
Lahore. But you are not, and I am afraid you do
not feel very much interest in the Punjaub and the
Sikhs just at present. You will whenever you come
here. Meanwhile you must be getting your sermon
ready for the second Svmday after Epiphany. I am
sure that it will be a good one and wish that I could
hear it. And by the time you get this, Lent will be
close upon you, and all those hard questions about
Confirmation and Lent service will be crowding you.
. . . God bless you, Johnny. Love to all.

Delhi, January 14, 1883.

Dear William, — I write you a rather unexpected
letter to-day, for the last week has been diif erent from

what I looked for. Last Sunday I wrote to G

from Jeypore. On Sunday night we left that place and
came to Delhi, reaching here on Monday at noon. We
intended to stay till Thursday, and then go to Lahore.
But this is what happened : Wendell had not been feel-
ing very well, and when we arrived, it seemed best that
we should see a doctor. The doctor at once told him
that he had the Indian fever, and must go to bed. In
two days the fever was broken, then it came out that
behind the fever he had the small-pox. Fortunately,
he is in good hands. On the Poonah was a young mis-
sionary, an English clergyman, belonging to an estab-
lislnnent here known as the Cambridge Mission. He
kindly insisted that when we came to Delhi we should
stay with him, and so when Wendell was taken down
it was at his house. Three of them (bachelors) keep
house together, and the kindness of them all, under
these very awkward circmnstances, has been most won-

DELHI. 245

derfuL I was in tlieir house three clays, but when I
found how things were looking, I insisted on going
to a hotel close by, for I found one of the ministers
was giving nie his room, and going out every night to
sleep. So I am at the United Service Hotel, Wendell
lies at the Mission House, and I am constantly with
him. . . .

Dellii is an immensely interesting place, and it is
not a bad thing to see it thoroughly. It is the old
centre of Mohammedan power in India. Here the
Great Mogul ruled for years and years, and the great
Mosque is one of the wonders of the Mussulman world.
Here, too, was the centre of the great mutiny in 1857,
and the town is fuU of interesting points connected
with that history. And then the present life, both
Hindoo and Mohammedan, is vastly interesting. The
streets are endless pictures. This morning the Jumna
was full of bathers in the sacred stream. The bazaars
are crowded with the natives of all parts of India.
The processions of marriages and burials meet you
everywhere. The temples with their hideous gods are
all along the streets, and the fakirs go clinking their
begging-bowls everywhere.

At present there is particular excitement because
the Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjaub is here with
his whole suite. They entered the city yesterday
morning, with a train of elephants and camels, and all
the citizens in their best clothes turned out to see them.
Now they are encamped on a broad field, just below
the Mission, and they make a most picturesque array.
For days whole hosts of wretched-looking folk have
been sweeping the streets, dusting the temples, and
cleaning up everything in anticipation of the coming
of the Governor Sahib.

246 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Later, Sunday Afternoon.

I preaclied this morning in the English Church,
and had the usual English congregation. I am get-
ting so used to English people in these days that a real
American would seem a strange sort of creature. The
English are faithful to their duties here, and their In-
dian Civil Service ought to be the pattern of the world.
I wish that we had anything like it in America. The
trouble about the whole thing is, that the Englishman
does not really like the Indian and does not aim for
any real liking from him ; also the Englislunan suffers
so in this terrible Indian climate that he cannot live
here permanently, and each officer is anxious to get
through his service, and get his pension and be off to
England. Such brave and devoted work as our mis-
sionary hosts are doing must tell, and the English
rulers are gradually getting the Indians fit for more
and more self-government. . . .

Delhi, January 21, 1883.

Dear William, — Here I am at Delhi for another
Sunday. . . . The mission work is most nobly, sen-
sibly and faitlifuUy done here. . . . Yesterday after-
noon, in the most desolate and degraded part of all
the town, as I stood with a little crowd under a tree,
with the hubbub of heathen life around us, with all
sorts of faces, stupid and bright, hostile, eager, and
scornful, I heard a native catechist preach the gospel
in Urdu, of which I could not understand a word,
and thought there could not be a better missionary
picture. A group of Sikh soldiers came \i]), sjilendid-
looking fellows, with fine faces, enormous turbans, and
curled beards, who entered into lively discussion with
the preacher, and for a time the debate ran very

DELHI. 247

high. I could not make out which had the best of it,
but the catechist seemed to understand himself very
well.

The i^rincipal point of the Sikhs seemed to be that
what God made every man, he meant that man to con-
tinue, so there could be no good reason for changing
one's religion. But when the preacher asked them
how the Sikh religion (which is only about two hun-
dred years old) began, he rather had them.

Before Wendell's illness thoroughly declared its
character, I went off for a three days' trip to Lahore
and Ann-itsir, which was exceedingly interesting. They
are in the Sikh country, which is a region quite by it-
self, with the finest set of men in India and a religion
of its own. At Amritsir is their great place of wor-
ship, the Golden Temple, a superb structure, with the
lower half of most beautiful mosaic and the upper
half of golden jalates, standing in the middle of an
enormous artificial lake, called the Lake of Immor-
tality. There is a beautiful white marble bridge con-
necting the island with the shore. I saw their pic-
turesque worship one morning, just after sunrise.
This was a very fine trip. . . .

The Lieutenant-Governor has been in camp hete
for two weeks. Sir Charles Atchison, to whom I had
an introduction from Sir Richard Temple through Dr.
Eliot. Friday morning, a stunning menial in red and
yellow appeared on a camel at my door, with a note
saying that he (the Lieutenant-Governor, not the
menial) and Lady Atchison requested the pleasure
of my company at dinner. The doctor said it was
quite safe to go, and so I went. It was great fun. We
had a swell dinner in a gorgeous tent, with about
thirty persons, and no end of picturesque servants to

248 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

wait on us. The Lieutenant-Governor was very pleas-
ant, and when I left promised nie some more letters to
people in Calcutta. I took his daughter in to dinner,
and had a nice talk with her. She is a sensible young
Scotch lassie. Tell Dr. Eliot, if you see him, that
both here and in Bombay I owe very much to his kind
thoughtfulness.

I have been preaching again to-day, so that for
three Sundays I have been on duty. Of course these
are purely European congregations. A large part of
the congregation is soldiers, of whom there is a con-
siderable force stationed here. I wonder who preaches
at Trinity? No letters have reached me for some
time, but in a week I shall find some at Benares.
Then I shall learn about your winter, and get the bear-
ings of you almost up to Christmas time. When
you get this I shall be about in Madras, perhaps even
beyond, in Ceylon, with the Indian journey finished.

It is the most splendid weather jjossible now,
like our best May or early June weather. In the
mornings it is rather cold, and the natives go about
with most of their bedclothes wrapped about their
heads, though their legs are bare, and do not seem to
mind the cold. By ten or eleven o'clock they are sit-
ting in the sun, with almost everything off of them,
and burning themselves a shade or two more brown.
Their picturesquesness is endlessly interesting. But
I do wonder what is going on at home. I know you
are all well and that you wish I were with you. . . .

Benakes, January 28, 1883.

My dear Mary, — ... This is the sacredest place
in India. There are five thousand Hindoo temples in
Benares. . . . You stumble at every step on a temjole

BENARES. 249

with its hideous idol, and if you hear a gentleman
muttering behind you in the street, he is not abus-
ing you, but only saying prayers to Vishnu or Siva,
who has a little shrine somewhere in the back yard
of the next house. There is one sweet temple to
their Monkey God, where they keep five hundred
monkeys. I went to this temple yesterday morning,
and the little wretches were running over everything,
and would hardly let you go, wanting you to feed them.
They are so sacred that if you hurt one of them,
you would have an awful time. It reminded me of
nothing so much as your drawing-room after dinner.

Then I went down to the Ganges, where hundreds
and hundreds of people were bathing in the sacred
river. Pilgrims from all over India had come to wash
their sins away, and were scrubbing themselves, as
thick as they could stand, for two miles along the bank
of the stream. It is a beautiful religion, at least in
this, that it keeps its disciples always washing them-
selves. . . .

By and by, we came to a place where, in a little
hollow by the river's side, a pile of wood was burn-
ing ; two men were waving a big piece of cloth to fan
the flame, and gradually as it burned, you caught
sight through it of a strange bundle lying in the midst
of the wood and slowly catching fire. Then you knew
that it was the funeral pile of some dead Hindoo, who
had died happy in knowing that he would be burned
beside the sacred river and that his ashes would be
mingled with its waters.

Then came another curious and pathetic sight.
Close by the side of this burning pile was another all
prepared, biit not yet lighted. Soon I saw a man
leading a little naked boy some four years old into the

250 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

water. He washed tlie little cliap all over, then stood
him lip beside the pile of wood ; a priest up above on
a high altar said some prayers over him, and the man
gave the little boy a blazing bunch of straw and showed
him how to stick it into the midst of the wood until
the whole caught fire. It was a widower showing his
small son how to set his mother on fire. The little
fellow seemed scared and cried, and when they let him
go ran np to some other children, — probably cous-
ins,— who put his clothes on for him, and then he
squatted on his heels and quietly watched the flames.

While this was going on they had brought down the
body of a child, perhaps seven or eight years old, and
for it they built another pile of wood close to the water.
Then they took the body into the stream and bathed
it for a moment, then brought it out and laid it on the
wood. The father of the child went into the water,
and washed himself all over. After he came out the
priest at the altar chanted a prayer for him. Then he
went up to an old woman who sold straw, and bought
a bundle, haggling some time over the price. This he
lighted at the burning pile of the little boy's mother,
and with it set his own child's pile in flames. They
had covered the little body with a bright red cloth,
and it was the prettiest funeral pile of all. By this
time another body, a wasted and worn old man, had
come, and they were already bathing him in the Gan-
ges, while some men were gathering up the ashes of
somebody who was burned earlier in the day and
throwing them into the river, where they float to cer-
tain bliss. So it goes all the time, while a great crowd
is gathered around, some laughing, some praying,
some trafficking, some begging. While we looked on,
an interesting-looking fakir came up with a live snake

BENARES. 251

pleasantly curled around his neck, and begged an
alms, while the boys behind kept pulling the tail of
his hideous necklace to make him mad. Just down
the slope beside the water, the mother was being
burned by the little boy, and the child by her father.

This is not a cheerful letter, but on less serious
occasions the Hindoos are a most amusing people. . . .
They never sit, but squat all over the place. When
you meet them they make believe take up some dust
from the gromid and put it on their heads. I wish
you could see my servant Huri. He looks like a
most sober, pious female of about forty-five. He
wears petticoats and bloomers. Where he sleeps and
what he eats, I have not the least idea. He gets $8 a
month and finds himself, and is the most devoted and
useful creature you ever saw, but as queer an old
woman as ever lived. But good-by. I shall be glad
enough to see you all again. . . .

The Hindoos are the most pathetic and amusing
people. . . . This morning, after I had written this
long letter, we went down again to the Ganges and
watched the bathers and the burners for a long time.
On the way we almost destroyed large nmnbers of
the infant population, who crawl about the streets and
run under the ho.'ses' feet and are just the color of
the earth of which they are made, so that it is very
hard to tell them from the inanimate clay. Almost
none of them wear any clothes until they are six
or seven years old ; then their clothes soon get to be
the same color as their skins and it does not help you
much.

We passed a pleasant temple of the Goddess of
Small-Pox, and looked in a moment just out of associ-
ation. Her name is Sitla, and her temple is a horrid-

252 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

looking place. On the way through the city there are
all sorts of amusing sights. Here is a fellow squatted
down in the dirt, blowing away on a squeaking flute,
and as he blows there are a lot of snakes, cobras, and
all sorts of dreadful-looking things swinging back and
forth around him, and sticking their heads out of his
baskets. Suddenly the musician starts up and begins
a fantastic dance, and in a few minutes makes a dive
at a chap in the crowd, and by sleight of hand seems
to take a long snake (which he ha's concealed some-
where about him) out of the other fellow's turban.
Then the crowd howl and jeer, and we throw the dirty
musician a quarter of a cent.

All this it is pleasantest to see from the carriage ;
just as we are turning away, there is a cheerful noise
of a band coming down the narrow street, and there
appear a dozen men and boys playing on queer drums,
cymbals, and trumpets. After them a crowd of wo-
men singing a wild and rather jolly air, then on horse-
back a small boy of twelve all dressed up in gilt
paper and white cloth, and on another horse a little
girl about the size of Tood, who is his bride. She is
dressed like a most gorgeous doll, and has to be held
on the horse by a man who walks behind. They have
all been down to the Ganges to worship, and now are
going home to the wedding feast, after which the
bride will be taken to the boy's mother's house to be
kept for him, and a hard time the little wretch will
have. The wedding procession comes to grief every
few minutes in the crowded street ; sometimes a big
swell on an elephant walks into the midst of the band,
and for a few minutes you lose sight of the minstrels
altogether, and only hear fragments of the music com-
ing out of the neighboring houses, where they have

BENARES. 253

taken refuse. Sometimes there come a group o£ peo-
ple, wailing, crying, and singing a doleful liymn, as
they carry a dead body to the Ganges, and for a while
the funeral and marriage music get mixed ; but they
always come unsnarled, and the wedding picks itself
up and goes its way. Then you stop a moment to see
a juggler make a mango-tree grow in three minutes
from a seed to a tall bush. Then you drop into the
bazaars and see their pretty silks ; then you stop and
listen to a Gooroo preaching in a little nook between
two houses ; and so you wander on, until you see the
Ganges flashing in the sun and thousands of black
and brown backs popping in and out, as the men and
women take their baths.

When they come out, they sit with their legs folded
under them for a long time, look at nothing, and med-
itate ; then they go to a gentleman who sits under a
big umbrella with a lot of paint-boxes about him, and
he puts a daub on their foreheads, whose color and j^at-
tern tell how long they have bathed and prayed, and
how holy they are after it all.

I have been looking at Huri, who is squatted on the
gromid in the sun, just outside my door, as I am writ-
ing. He wears a gold and purple turban. The poor
fellow was upset in a rickety cab last week, after he
had left me at the station, and says his bones are bent,
but he has been carefully examined, and we can find
no harm. He always sleeps just outside my door at
night. Last night I heard the jackals when I went
to bed, and was quite surprised to find the whole of
Huri in my room when I woke up this morning. I
wish I could bring him home. . . .

254 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Calcutta, February 3, 1883.

Dear William, — Lots of letters to-day, the best
of them your Christmas letter, telling how you re-
ceived my Bombay telegram, how you went to church
and heard Bishop Clark, how you had lots of presents,
and went to Salem in the afternoon. It was all de-
lightful, and reading it as we drove along to-day in
Dharamtolla Street (which means "the Way of
Righteousness," and a funny, shabby old Hindoo Way
of Righteousness it is), it seemed as if I saw you all
at your home life. The palm-trees turned to elms,
and the naked Indians to Boston men and women, with
Boston great-coats buttoned up tc their respectable
Boston chins. It was all delightful ! Do thank for
me the whole Salem Round Robin.

Since I wrote that tremendous letter to Mary last
Sunday, another week of India has passed. I have
been down to Gaya, and seen where Buddha sat and
contemplated for six years, and a marvelous sti-ange
place it is, with ten thousand Buddhas carved on every
side. Then I came on here, and have been seeing
interesting things and people for three days. Calcutta
is not half as nice as Bombay, but there are people
here whom I wanted very much to see. " Stately Bom-
bay " and " Fair Calcutta " the Anglo-Indians are
fond of saying.

I have just written an enormous letter to Arthur
about Chunder Sen, to whom I made a long visit the
other day. This afternoon I went to one of the
schools supported by the Zenana Mission (of which
you have sometimes heard from Trinity reading-desk),
gave the prizes to a lot of little Hindoos, and made an
address which was translated into Bengalee for my
audience.

DARJEELING. 255

... I dined last night with the Whitneys, three
Boston men who are out here in business.

Tell Gertie she has not sent me yet her Christmas
report. At least I have not received it. What a suc-
cession of splendid preaching you are having ! Oh,
how I wish you were here to-night. God bless you all.

Darjeeling, India, February 7, 1883.

Dear Miss Morrill, — Instead of writing you a
letter which could be read at our Ash Wednesday
meeting, I am writing to you on Ash Wednesday a
letter which will hardly reach you before Easter. I
explained to you before that I have been unable to see
anything of the work of the Zenana Missionary in
time to let you hear from me before the meeting. It
is only now, after my visits to the places where our
missionaries are at work, that I feel as if I had really
something to say about their labors. From the time
I entered India I heard much of the Zenana work. In
Delhi, where I spent some time, English ladies are at
work in this visitation and teaching of native women,
and all persons who are interested in the religious and
social condition of the people of India, whether clergy-
men or laymen, value their influence very highly. Of
course, from the nature of the case it is not a work
which can make much display of visible results, nor
can a visitor like myself get any sight even of its pro-
cesses. But he can talk with those who are engaged in
it, hear their descriptions, and learn from those who
see it constantly what are its effects. Also, besides the
visitation of Zenanas, the same ladies are engaged in
teaching school, which one can freely see, and of
which he can form some judgment for himself.

The ladies of the American Union Mission whom I

256 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

have met are Miss Gardner, at Cawnpore, and Miss
Marston, Miss Cook, and Mrs. Page, in Calcutta. I
was sorry that Miss Ward was absent from Cawnpore,
and Miss Lathrop from Allahabad at the times of
my visit. They had both gone to Calcutta with ref-
erence to medical treatment for Miss Lathrop, and
before I reached Calcutta they had returned to their
respective posts. At Cawnpore the Mission House is
a bright, pleasant bungalow, where the two American
ladies live, together with a number of native teachers
whom they have trained, and who go out every day
to teach schools, which they have gathered either in
the city or in some of the neighboring villages. There
are fourteen such schools, I think, in or about Cawn-
pore. One of them is taught in the Mission House
itself, and that I saw. The children were bright and
intelligent, and (translated) answers showed that they
knew what they were about.

I saw also what interested me very much, the school
which is supported by the children of your class and
Miss Lowell's and Miss Torrey's. I wish they could
see it. It is described as the most difficult of all the
schools, situated in a region of most benighted Mo-
hammedanism, where the parents can hardly be in-
duced to let the children come. Indeed, there were
some fears lest the visit of a " Padre Sahib," or Mr.
Minister, like me, might make trouble, and possibly
break up the school. I hope that no disastrous results
will follow from my weU-meant and innocent appear-
ance at the school-door. In the very heart of the
crowded bazaars you tiu-n from one dirty lane into
another dirtier and narrower still, and then into the
dirtiest and narrowest of all, which ends short at a
native house of very poor sort, but making some small

DARJEELING. 257

attempts at tidiness. The iloor admits at once to the
only room, with an earth floor and a few benches,
where you find a native woman who answers to the
name of Dorcas, and around her ahout a dozen little,
rough, sturdy, native girls, into whose dull heads she
is trying to ^nit the elements of Hindostanee learning.
It is all homely enough, even wretchedly shabby and
dreary, as the girls who support the school would
think if they could see it, but if they saw the homes
in which their strange little protegees live, and their
parents, and knew the lives which are before them if
they go untaught, and could see the condition of other
schools (which began just as this is beginning), full
of brightness, and happiness, and neatness, and in-
telligence, and religion, they would bid Dorcas go on
with her work, and feel it a privilege to watch over the
little school and nurse it to full life.

I was rather glad, on the whole, to find that our
children had the hardest and most discouraging field
in Cawnpore to work upon. No one can talk with
Miss Gardner and not be very much impressed with
her good judgment and happy devotion to her work.

In Calcutta I have been several times at the Mis-
sion House and seen Miss Marston, Miss Cook, and
their yoimg native assistants, who live with them and
make a most happy family. There, I could see no-
thing of the Zenana work, but they told me much about
it, and from others, as well as from them, I heard
such testimony as gives me the strongest assurance of
its value. The only wonder is that the Baboos, or
native gentlemen, so freely admit these ladies to their
houses. In Bengal especially there is a strong desire
for education, which even the secluded women feel,
and either by their persuasion or by the husbands'

258 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

own desire, the requisite permission is granted. Of
course it is in every case clearly understood that the
visitors mean to give Christian teaching. I have
made special inquiry upon the point, and am assured
that no such scandalous deception of the Baboo, as was
described to us by the lady who addressed the Society
last year in the chapel of Emmanuel Church, has
ever been practiced or tolerated by our missionaries.

A good deal of talk with Miss Marston has im-
pressed me with the good sense and intelligence of
her methods, and I am more confident than ever that
our church does better work nowhere than in the con-
tribution which it makes to the Zenana Mission.

The schools which are under the care of these Cal-
cutta ladies are very interesting. I have visited sev-
eral of them, and heard their recitations both in Eng-
lish and Bengalee. The former was so good that I
could have no doubt about the latter. And ihe chil-
dren's faces told the story, which to any one who has
watched for a month or two the ordinary look of Hin-
doo children's countenances was unmistakable.

Last Saturday afternoon I went to a prize festival
of two of these schoolc, which I wish that the friends
of the Mission could have seen. A generous Baboo
had kindly offered the use of the courtyard of his
house, which was prettily decorated for the occasion.
He and a number of his friends came and looked on
with the greatest interest. Even some of the ladies
of his household were watching what went on from
an upper gallery. Some hundred and fifty children
were there, with that strange, pensive, half-sad look
in their eyes which makes the faces of Hindoo chil-
dren so pathetic. Some of them, however, had fun
enough in them. Many of them were gorgeous in

DARJEELING. 259

bright colors and trinkets. Most of them had fine
rings in tlieir ears, they all had rings in their noses,
and the finest of them also had rings on their toes.
Their little brown ankles tinkled with their anklets as
they trotted up barefoot to get their dolls, and they
answered Bible questions as I wish the children of
Trinity school would answer them. They sang strange,
sweet Bengalee words to tunes which all ovir children
know, and after I had given them their prizes I made
a little speech, which was translated to them, and I
hope they understood, for I wanted them to know how
much their American friends cared for these little
friends of theirs.

I wish that I had time to tell you about Mrs. Page's
Orphan Asylum. Most of these orphans are found-
lings, and one could not look at them without think-
ing what their lives nm":t have been, save for this
home ; if indeed without it, they could have had any
life at all ; many of them must have died in infancy.
Now those who have been with Mrs. Page for years
are as cheerful and cheery a lot of little Christian
maidens as any school in America can show. Some
of the teachers in the schools of which I have been
speaking were brought up in this home. There are
some seventy or eighty inmates now.

But I must not go on forever. You will see that my
whole visit to this Zenana work and my acquaintance
with the workers have deepened the faith in it which
I have always rather blindly felt. I know it now, and
I know that it is good. Those who have given their
contributions year after year may rest assured that
they have really helped the minds and souls of Hindoo
women, shut up in the dreary monotony and frivol-
ity of their Zenanas, and made possible for Plindoo

260 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

children happy and nsef ul lives, of which they had no
chance except for such help. I congratulate you
and the other ladies, who have had the privilege of
helping on this work and keeping alive other people's
interest in it. If anything that I can ever do or say
can give it encouragement or strength, I shall be
very glad.

Foreign missions lose something of their romance,
but they gain vastly in reality and interest when one
sees them here at work. I should be very glad to
think that in all this long letter I had succeeded in
giving you any idea of how it all looks when one sees
it with his own eyes. Believe me ever

Most sincerely yours, Phillips Brooks.

Calcutta, February 11, 1883.
Dear William, — This week I have seen the Hima-
layas. Last Monday we left Calcutta at three o'clock
by rail ; at seven we crossed the Ganges on a steam-
boat, just as if it had been the Susquehanna. All
night we slept in the train, and the next day were
climbing up and up on a sort of steam tramway,
which runs to Darjeeling, a simimer station at the foot
of the highest hills, but itseK a thousand feet higher
than the top of Mt. Washington. There the swells go
in the hot months, but now it is almost deserted. We
reached there on Tuesday evening in the midst of rain,
found that the great mountains had not been seen for
eight days, and everybody laughed at our hope of seeing
them. We slept, and early the next morning looked
out on nothing but clouds. But about eight o'clock
the curtain began to fall, and before nine there was a
most splendid view of the whole range. In the midst
was the lordly Kinchin jinga, the second highest moun-

CALCUTTA. 261

tain in the world, over 28,000 feet high. Think of
that ! Certainly, they made the impression of height,
such as no mountains ever gave me before.

By and by we rode about six miles to another hill
called Senchul, where the tip of Mt. Everest, the high-
est mountain in the world, 29,002 feet, is visible. That
was interesting, but the real glory of the day was
Kinchinjinga. We gazed at him till the jealous clouds
came aa-ain in the afternoon and covered him ; then
we roamed over the little town and went to a Bud-
dhist village a couple of miles away. The people
here are Thibetans by origin, and they keep associa-
tions with the tribes upon the other side of the great
hills. A company of Thibetans, priests and Lamas,
had come over to celebrate the New Year, which with
them begins on the 9th of February. They had the
strangest music and dances, and queer outdoor plays,
and we were welcomed as distinguished strangers, and
set in the place of honor, feasted with oranges, and
beooed for backsheesh.

The next morning there were the giant hills again,
and we looked at Kinchinjinga (I want you to learn
his name) till eleven o'clock, when we took the train
again for Calcutta, and arrived there on Friday after-
noon about five. It was a splendid journey, and one
to be always remembered. On my return to Calcutta
I found two invitations waiting: one was to dine at
the Government House with the Viceroy on Thursday
evening. Of course, I was too late for that, and was
very sorry, for now I shall not see the great man and
the viceresral court at all. The other was to an even-
ing party on Friday, given by the Rajah Rajendra
Narayan del Bahadur, " in honor of the late British
victory in Egypt." Of course I went to this, and it

262 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

was the biggest thing seen in India for years. It is
said to have cost the okl Rajah a lac of rupees, or
1100,000. At any rate, it was very splendid and
very queer, — acres of palace and palace grounds
blazing with lights, a thousand guests, the natives in
the most beautiful costumes of silk and gold ; a Nautch
dance going on all the time in one hall, a full circus,
• — horses, acrobats, clowns, and all, only after native
fashion, — in a great covered courtyard, supper per-
petual, and the great drawing-room blazing with fam-
ily jewels. I stayed till one o'clock, and t-hen came
home as if from the Arabian Nights, and went to
bed.

But I cannot tell you all I am doing or have done.
This morning, for c, change, I preached from Henry
Martyn's old pulpit in the Mission Church. To-mor-
row morning, we sail on the P. & O. steamer Rohilla
for Madras, a three days' voyage. Thence we travel
by Tanjore, Trichinopoly, and Madura to Tuticorin.
Then across by sea to Colombo, and after a week in
Ceylon sail in the Verona (P. & O.) on the 7th of
March (the day Daniel Webster made his speech)
for Suez. From Suez by rail to Alexandria, seeing
Cairo on the way, and the recent battlefield of Tel El
Kebir. When you get this, about the 24th of March,
I shall probably be in Alexandria, perhaps spend
Easter there. Thence I somehow go to Spain, getting
there about April 1.

Your New Year's letter reached me yesterday. A
thousand thanks for it. Next year we will have such
a watch-meeting as was never known. Now the year
is more than half over. How fast it has gone, and
henceforth we draw nearer and nearer to each other.
When I get to England, it wiU almost seem at home.

MADRAS. 263

Tell M., and A., and G., and S. that I love them
all. G.'s Christmas report not yet received.

Affectionately, P.

Madras, February 18, 1883.

My dear William, — We had a beautiful sail
down from Calcutta. For four days the Rohilla slid
along over the most beautiful glassy sea, the sky was
lovely at sunrise and sunset, the nights were the most
gorgeous moonlight, and the sun at noon was hotter
than Sancho. There were a good many pleasant peo-
ple on board, two bishops, an archdeacon, and the
usual queer lot of sailors who run the steamships in
these Eastern seas. We arrived at Madras very early
on Friday morning, and I have been charmed with
the place ever since. It was glorious last night. I
drove five miles into the count: y to dine at Mr.
Sewall's. He is the archaeological director of the dis-
trict, and knows all about the Vishnu temples and
the Buddhist Topes, of which the whole region is full.
The road ran through long avenues of banyan-trees,
which looked like ghosts with their long arms ; little
temples j^eeped through the trees, and picturesque
groups Gi people were flitting about on foot, or in
queer bidlock carts, and it was all as unlike the Mill-
dam as possible. We had a charming dinner wdth
people who knew all about India, and drove home at
eleven o'clock through the February summer night.

I sent from Calcutta a box which wiU reach you in
due time ; not for a long time, perhajis, for I left it
there to be sent the first time there was a sailing ves-
sel going direct to Boston. There is nothing jjarticu-
lar in it. Only a few travel books, which I wanted to
get out of the way, and a number of small traps, which

264 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

have accumulated in my trunk. There is nothing
really fine or artistic to buy in India. Art seems to
have stopped here some two hundred years ago, so I
have made no purchases, and these things in the box
are mere trinkets and a few pieces of cloth and some
photographs. . . .

There is something which I wish you woidd do some
time, when it is not much bother. When I left I took
some sermons with me in a great hurry. I did not
make a very good selection, and do not like what I
have brought ; when I get to England I may preach
some more. Would it be much trouble for you to go
some afternoon into my study, and look in the back
of my writing-table and find six or eight sermons,
among the later ones, which you think woidd do, and
send them to me at Barings', only marking them not
to be forwarded, but kept for me there ? You will
know about the ones to send. There is one about
Gamaliel, which I remember. Do not hurry about
this, but if you think of it some afternoon, do it like
a good fellow, won't you, and I will do as much for
you when you come to India.

Strawberries are first-rate here, cocoanuts and plan-
tains and oranges and guavas everywhere. It will
be hard to leave these gentle Hindoos and their de-
lightful land when the time comes, three weeks hence.
The only compensation will be that I shall be coming
nearer to you aU. Affectionately, P.

Tanjore, India, February 23, 1883.

Dear aunt Susan, — I hope you are all well, and
I wish that I could drive up the side yard, this
morning, and find you all there, going on in the good
old-fashioned way. Instead of that, I am sitting here

TAN J ORE. 265

in the midst of heatlienism, in the big room of an
Indian bungalow, with a punkah swinging overhead to
keep me cool, propelled by a rope which a naked
heathen boy is pidling on the veranda outside, and
with the sun blazing down on the palm-trees and bam-
boos as it never blazes, even in August, in the back
garden. This morning, while it was still cool, I went
to the great temple, and saw the worship of the great
god Siva. The worshipers were a strange-looking
set, some of them very gentle and handsome, others
wild and fierce ; but all groveling before the most
hideous idol, and hiding their faces in the dust, while
the big priest clothed the image with flowers, washed
him, set his food and drink before him, and anointed
him with dreadful-smellino' oil.

It is strange to be right in the midst of pure, blank
heathenism, after one has been hearing and talking
about it all lus life. And it is certainly as bad as it
has been painted. I have seen a good deal of the
missionaries here, and a good many of them are doing
very noble work, but the hosts on hosts of heathen
must be a pretty discouraging sight to them some-
times. However, I saw a dozen or more funeral piles
burning the other day at Benares, and so there are
that number less of unconverted heathen in the land.

We have had a splendid two months here, and now
only two weeks remain before we shall sail from " Cey-
lon's Isle " for Europe, where it will seem as if I were
almost in the midst of you again. But all the rest of
my life I shall have pictures before my mind of these
queer people riding on elephants (that they prod with
a sharp iron stick behind the ear to make them go),
squatting on their heels in the sunniest sunshine they
can find, and religiously bathing in big tanks and tug-

266 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

ging at the heavy cars on which they love to drag
their horrible gods about the country ; smiling, cheat-
ing, lying dreadfully, and making their country as
picturesque as anything can be in all the world. It
will be good to get back again, for after all one wants
to be at work. William, Arthur, and Jolm have writ-
ten nie from time to time, — William constantly, —
and from them I have heard all the news. The best
is that everything is going on without change, and that
I shall find you all next September just as I left you
last June. You will not doubt that I think of you a
great deal. Give my best love to aunt S. and aunt
C, and write to me when you can.
Ever most affectionately,

Phillips Bkooks.

Tkichinopoly, February 25, 1883.

Dear William, — I am staying at the house of
Mr. Sewall, the chief collector of this district, who has
taken us in and given us his hospitality for a couple
of days. We have reached southern India, and the
hot weather is on us, so that except in early morn-
ing and late afternoon there is no possibility of moving
about and seeing things. What people will do here
two or three months hence I can hardly imagine.
The sun's heat is tremendous, and even with perpetual
punkahs swinging in every room where anything is
being done, eating, or writing, or reading, or talking,
or sleeping, life is hardly tolerable. Nevertheless, we
have had a good sort of week. Last Sunday evening
we went on board a canal-boat at Madras, a funny
little tub of a thing, and were towed all night by
coolies, running along the bank for about thirty miles,
to a place called Mahabalihuram, where there are

TRICHINOPOLY. 267

some wonderful pagodas or Hindoo temples, and some
remarkable old sciJptures on the rocks of enormous
size.

It was a gorgeous moonlight night, and the sensa-
tion of being pulled along through this wild country
by these naked figures, striding and tugging on the
banks, was very curious. The next day we spent at
the pagodas, which were built nobody knows when or
by whom, and which have the whole Hindoo my-
thology marvelously carved in their rocky walls. Mon-
day night we took the same way back, and it was hard
to turn in and leave the strange picture which I saw, as
I sat in the stern of the little craft.

We took our own servants, beds, and provisions
with us, and stopped sach evening and spread our
table for dinner in the desert, by the side of the canal.
After our return, we spent one more day in Madras,
and then started southward toward Ceylon. We
stopped first at Chedambaram, where there is a stupen-
do'is temple, with heathenism in full blast, processions
of Vishnu, Siva, and the other gods going about with
drums, trumpets, and cymbals all the time. Then to
Tan j ore, where there is the most beautiful of the big
pagodas, and where we spent a delightful day. Thence
to this place, where yesterday we saw the richest
temple of all, in which the jewels and gold clothing
of two horrid little brass idols are worth ten lacs
of rupees, 11,000,000. The collector had sent word
that we were coming, and they had the jewels all
spread out for us to see, while crowds of gaping
natives stood outside the rope and watched the pre-
cious things as we examined them. A dozen officials
had to show them, for the great chest has so many
locks, and each official keeps a separate key. It can-

268 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

not he unlocked without the presence of them all, a
sort of combination-safety arrangement which I com-
mend to the Boston bank directors.

I am sincerely blue at the prospect of leaving India
in ten days more. I try to fix every picture in my
memory, so that I may not lose it. But I hate to
think that I shall never see it again. The people
cheat, lie, worship false gods, and do all sorts of hor-
ridly wicked things, but they are evidently capable of
a better life. Their land is full of monuments which
show what they once were, and there is a courtesy,
mild dignity, and perpetual picturesqueness about
them which is fascinating.

This morning I went to an early service and saw
the grave of Bishop Heber in the chancel. I was go-
ing to preach for the minister this evening, but he
could not find a surplice of decent length, and it had
to be given up.

On Friday I shall be at Colombo, and then shall
get some letters from you all and learn what you are
doing. I can imagine, but very often I wish that I
could ]ook through the thick world and see. At this mo-
ment you are sound asleep, preparing for the Sunday
and the excitement of hearing some great man at
Trinity. I hope it is n't very cold. Oh, that I could
give you some of this heat ! My love to everybody.
Always affectionately, P.

Ka>t>y, IMarcli 4, 1883.

My DEAii Mary, — Do you know I think this
place is good enough and important enough from
which to write you a letter. In the first place, it is
the farthest point of my travels ; from this time my
face is turned homeward. In the second place, I

KANDY. 269

think it must be the most beautiful place in the
world. I do not see how there could be one more
beautiful. I wish you coidd have driven with me this
morning- at sunrise, through the roads with hundreds
of different kinds of palm-trees, and to the Buddhist
temple, where they were offering fresh flowers to Bud-
dha and banging away on drums in his honor enough
to kill you ; then out to the gardens where cinnamon,
nutmeg, clove-trees, tea and coffee plants, pineapples,
mangoes, bamboos, banyans, India-rubber trees, and
a hundred other curious things are growing. Here
and there you meet an elephant or a peacock, and
the pleasant-faced natives smile at you out of their
pretty houses.

Oh, this beaiitifvil island of Ceylon !
With the coeoanut-trees on the shore ;
It is shaped like a pear with the peel on,
And Kandy lies in at the core.

And Kandy is sweet (you ask Gertie !)
Even when it is spelt with a K,
And the people are cheerful and dirty,
And dress in a comical way.

Here comes a particular dandy,
With two ear-rings and half of a shirt.
He 's considered the swell of all Kandy,
And the rest of him 's covered with du-t.

And here comes the belle of the city,
With rings on her delicate toes,
And eyes that are painted and pretty,
And a jewel that shakes in her nose.

And the dear little girls and their brothers,
And the babies so jolly and fat,
Astride on the hips of their mothers,
A.nd as black as a gentleman's hat.

270 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA,

And the queer little heaps of old women,
And the shaven Buddhistical priests,
And the lake which the worshipers swim in,
And the wagons with curious beasts.

The tongue they talk mostly is Tamul,
Which sounds you can hardly tell how,
It is half like the scream of a camel.
And half like the grunt of a sow.

But it is too hot to make any more poetry. It is per-
fectly ridiculous how hot it is. I would not walk to that
Buddhist temple opposite for anything. If I tried
to, you would never see my familiar face in Claren-
don Street any more. I am glad, with aU the beauty of
Ceylon, that there are only two days more of it. It is
too near the equator. On Wednesday morning the
Verona sails from Colombo, and will carry me to Suez,
and the Indian trip is over. It has been one unmixed
pleasure from beginning to end.

We have a new boy. Huri's language gave out at
Calcutta. lie did not know the queer tongues they
talk in southern India, and he had to be sent back to
Bombay. We parted with tears and rupees. Then
came another boy, who had to be summarily dismissed.
He was too stupid for anything. It made the journey
far too laborious when we had to take care of him.
Now we have a beautiful creature named Tellegoo,
or something like that. He wears a bright yellow
and green petticoat, which makes him look very gay,
and a tortoise-shell comb in his hair. . . . Our asso-
ciation with him will be brief, for we leave him on the
wharf when we sail, Wednesday, and there will be
fewer rupees and no tears.

I went to church this morning, and the minister
preached on the text, " Bake me a little cake first,"

STEAMER VERONA. 271

and the point was, that before you bought any clothes
or food, you must give something towards the endow-
ment of the English church at Kandy. It was really
a pretty sermon. . . .

There are the Buddliists howling again. It must
be afternoon service. The priests go about without a
bit of hair on their heads, and wrapped in dirty yellow
sheets. . . .

P. &0. Steamer Verona, March 11, 1883.

Dear William, — I wrote last Sunday to M.
from beautiful Kandy. That letter, I suppose, is
somewhere on board this ship at this moment ; but
not to break :iiy good habit of a weeldy letter, I will
send you this, to show how I felt when we w^-e half-
way from Colombo to Aden, and next Sunday I will
send still another from wherever we are in the Red
Sea. You will get them altogether, but you can read
them in their order, and so get three consecutive
weeks of my important biography at one time.

It seems so strange to be on the sea again and think-
ing about the Indian journey as a finished thing. The
days from Venice to Bombay keep coming back, when
I was full of wonder about it all. Now, I know at
least a great deal about what I shall always think one
of the most delightful and interesting lands in all the
world. In some respects, the last bit of it was almost
the best. The tropics had seemed to elude us before.
Many a time in India it seemed as if the landscape
were almost what one might have seen at home, but
the minute that we touched Ceylon, everything was
different. One cannot conceive of the gorgeousness of
nature. Only the night before we left, we drove a
few miles along the seashore, with such groves of enor-

272 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

mous palms and cocoanuts on one side, and sucli color
of sunset on the water on the other side, as no dream
or jjicture ever began to suggest. And the whole four
hours' ride from Colombo to Kandy is marvelous.
The mountains are superb, and in the valleys there
are depths of jungle which show what the earth is at
only eight degrees from the equator. And then in
Ceylon for the first time we saw Buddhism, that great
religion which sprang up in India, and has comj^letely
disappeared in the land of its birth, but has spread
elsewhere, till more than a quarter of the human race
are Buddhists. We just caught sight of it when we
were close to the Himalayas on the borders of Thibet,
but in Ceylon we saw the strange system in its full-
ness.

Last Monday afternoon I drove out to the Buddliist
college and saw the old high-priest teaching a class of
students, who sat around him with their shaven heads
and their yellow robes, getting ready to continue this
atheistical religion for another generation. The old
fellow looked up and asked us who we were. I gave
him my card, which he spelled out with difficulty, then
he asked me, " Do you know anything about me ? "
and seemed disappointed and disgusted when I was
obliged to tell him that, much as we were interested
in his religion, and glad as we were to see his college,
we had never heard of him before in all our lives. He
evidently did not understand how local his great rep-
utation was. He dismissed his class and untwisted
his legs, and got down and toddled away.

We have been four days on the Verona. The peo-
ple are pleasant, the captain is cordial and agreeable,
and the weather is cool, so the voyage is charming.
The Archdeacon of Calcutta is on board, and jjreached

STEAMER VERONA. 273

tMs morning. He is a very jolly sort of person. I
am to preach next Sunday. There are some pri-
vate theatricals in prospect, so the future looks lively.
Next Sunday you shall hear how the week has gone.

Long before you get this, the great house ques-
tion will be settled, and you will have decided where
your declining years are to be passed, whether in the

house in G Street, which I know already, or in

some new nest in M or B streets. Which-
ever it is, I have the deepest interest in it, and shall
be very anxious to hear. Very many of my few re-
maining hours will be spent by the new fireside, and
years hence, I shall come tottering up to the door to
recall the old days when we were young and I went
away to spend a winter in India. I cannot help wish-
ing that the change, if there is to be one, might bring

you nearer to the corner of C and N streets,

instead of taking you farther away, as I fear it
will. . . .

Spain is the next thing, and I am counting much
upon it. I have some expectation of meeting the
Brimmers there, but it is not at all certain. At pres-
ent I am alone. Wendell left me at Suez to go to
Cairo, and then to Palestine. He has been a very
agreeable companion, intelligent, good-natured, always
bright and obliging. I feel very much attached to
him.

I had a letter at Suez from Canon Farrar, asking
me to preach for him in the Abbey and also at St.
Margaret's. I wrote him that I would do so, and
England begins to seem as if it were not very far
away. All of May and June I hope to be there. The
Captain sends his love. Good-by.

274 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Steamship Verona,
Sunday, March 18, 1883.

My dear Gertie, — It seems to me that our cor-
respondence lias not been very lively lately. I don't
think I had a letter from yon all the time I was in
India. I hoped I should, because I wanted to show
it to the Rajahs, and other great people, and let them
see what beautiful letters American children can write.
But now I am out of India, and for the last ten days
we have been sailing on and on, over the same course
where we sailed last December. Last Tuesday we
passed Aden, and stopped there about six hours. I
went on shore, and took a iilve through the town and
up into the country. If you hu,d been with me you
would have seen the solemn-looking camels, stalking
along with solemn-looking Arabs on their backs, look-
ing as if they had been riding on and on that way
ever since the days of Abraham. I think I met Isaac
and Jacob on two skinny camels, just outside the gates
of Aden. I asked them how Esau was, but Jacob
looked mad and would n't answer, and hurried the old
man on, so that I had no talk with them ; but I feel
quite sure it was they, for they looked just like the
pictures in the Bible.

Since that we have been sailing up the Red Sea,
and on Monday evening we shall be once more at
Suez, and there I say good-by to my companion, who
stops in Egypt, and goes thence to Palestine, while I
hurry on to Malta and Gibraltar in the same steamer.
She is a nice little steamer, with a whole lot of chil-
dren on board, who fight all the while and cry the rest
of the time. Every now and then one of them almost
goes overboard, and then all the mothers set up a great
howl, though I don't see why they should care very

STEAMER VERONA. 275

much about such chiklren as these are. I shoukl
think it would be rather a relief to get rid of them.
Now, if it were you, or Agnes, or Tood, it would be
different !

There has just been service on deck, and I preached,
and the people all held on to something and listened.
I would a great deal rather preach in Trinity.

I hope you will have a pleasant Easter. Mine will
be spent, I trust, in Malta. Next year I hope you will
come and dine with me on Easter Day. Don't forget !
My love to Tood. Your affectionate uncle,

Phillips.

On the F. & O. Steamship Verona,
March 19, 1883.

Little Mistress Josephine,

Tell me, have you ever seen

Children half as queer as these

Babies from across the seas ?

See their funny little fists,

See the rings upon their wrists ;

One has very little clothes,

One has jewels in her nose -,

And they all have silver bangles

On their little heathen ankles.

In their ears are curious things.

Round their necks are beads and strings.

And they jingle as they walk.

And they talk outlandish talk ;

One, you see, has hugged another,

Playing she 's its little mother ;

One who sits all lone and lorn.

Has her head all shaved and shorn.

Do you want to know their names ?

276 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

One is called Jeefungee Hames,
One Buddlianda Arricli Bas,
One Teedundee Hanki Sas.

Many such as these I saw,
In the streets of old Jeypore ;
They never seemed to cry or laugh,
But, sober as the photograph,
Squatted in the great bazaars.
While the Hindoos, their mammas.
Quarreled long about the price
Of their little mess of rice,
And then, when the fight was done,
Every mother, one by one.
Up her patient child would whip,
Set it straddling on her hip,
And trot off all crook'd and bent
To some hole, where, well content.
Hers and baby's days are spent.

Are n't you glad, then, little Queen,

That your name is Josephine ?

That you live in Spring-field, or

Not, at least, in old Jeypore ?

That your Christian parents are

John and Hattie, Pa and Ma ?

That you 've an entire nose,

And no rings upon your toes ?

In a word, that Hat and you

Do not have to be Hindoo ?

But I thought you 'd like to see

What these little heathen be,

And give welcome to these three

From your loving Uncle P.

STEAMER VERONA. 211

Steamship Verona, March 25, 1883.

Dear Johnny, — I must send you an Easter
greeting from this queer cabin, where, and on the
deck above it, we have spent our Easter Day. I hoped
that we should be at Malta for the great festival, but
we were detained a long while in the Suez Canal, and
shall not be at Malta till next Wednesday. On Sat-
urday, I hope to land at Gibraltar.

. . . How I wish you were here to-night. We would
sit late on deck, and you should tell me all about
Springfield ; and I woidd tell you all about India.
This long return voyage is a splendid chance to think
it over, and arrange in one's memory the recollections
of the wondrous land. Besides the countless pictures
which one saw every day, eleven great sights stand ou^t
which you must see when you go to India. They are
these : —

First, the rock temples of Karli and EUora.
Think of buildings big as Christ Church, Springfield,
not built, but hewn out of the solid rock, and covered
inside and out with Hindoo sculptures of the richest
sort.

Second, the deserted city of Ambir, a city of the
old Moguls, with hardly a human inhabitant, and
palaces and temples abandoned to the jackals and
the monkeys.

Third, the Kuttub at Delhi, the most beautiful col-
mnn in the world, covered with inscriptions ; the most
splendid monument of the Mohammedan power.

Fourth, the golden temple at Amritsir. Think of
a vast artificial lake, in whose centre, reached by a
lovely white marble bridge, is the holy place of the
Sikhs, the lower half of most delicate marble mosaics,
and the upper of sheets of beaten gold.

278 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Fifth, the Taj at Agra, a dream of beauty : the
tomb of an okl Mogul empress, made of the finest
marble, and inlaid in the most dainty way. The whole
as large as the State House.

Sixth, the river shore of the Ganges at Benares.
Mile after mile of palaces and temples, and in front
of them the bathing-places of the living and the
burning-places of the dead.

Seventh, Buddh-Gaya, where Buddha sat for six
years under the bo-tree, till enlightenment came to
him, A valley full of Buddhist temples is there now.

Eighth, the view of Kinchinjinga, from Darjeeling,
the second highest mountain in the world. Think
of a hill five times as high as Mt. Washington, blaz-
ing with snow in the sunshine.

Ninth, the seven pagodas near Madras, where whole
stories of the Hindoo mythology are scidptured on the
face of perpendicular rocks; and they are queer
enough.

Tenth, the Sivite temple at Tanjore, one mass of
brilliant color and scidpture, with its great pyramid,
two hundred feet high.

Eleventh, the temple at Kandy, in Ceylon, where
they keep Buddha's tooth. You see the strange Bud-
dhist priests and their strange ways.

These are the greatest things in India, and there are
ever so many more like them, only not quite so great
or interesting. I am very glad I went, and I wish
that everybody who cares about interesting things
could go thei-e, too. . . .

Steamship Verona, March 25, 1883.
Dear William, — This is not much of a place for
Easter Day. We have had the queerest sort of

STEAMSHIP VERONA. 279

week. Last Monday night we reached Suez, and put
about half our ship's company on shore to go to Alex-
andria, Brindisi, and Venice. Since then we have
been dragging along- through the Suez Canal. There
were twenty-six steamships in single file ; we were the
eleventh. Every now and then. No. 1 or I^lo. 6 would
get aground, and then we all had to wait till it got
loose, five or six hours, as the case might be. Every
night, the whole twenty-six of us pulled up and tied
fast to the bank, and waited for morning. So we
crept along till yesterday (Saturday, Easter even),
when we reached Port Said, where we stayed four
hours, and then launched out into the broad Mediter-
ranean. Now all is clear. The broad sea is rolling
merrily around us, we have a lot of sail set, and are
scu.lding on towards. Malta. "We shall get there on
Wednesday ; I hope to be put on shore at Gibraltar
some time on Saturday, the 31st, and begin my Span-
ish experiences on April Fool's Day.

Meanwhile, here is Easter Day at sea. A mission-
ary from New York, on his way home from China with
a sick wife, has just read the morning service. He did
not attempt any sermon, and the singing was uncom-
monly feeble. Only the religious passengers came
down for service. Now there will be nothing more to
show that it is Easter Day, — no children's service
this afternoon, no flowers, no eggs, nothing but the
monotonous plunging of the ship as she goes on
towards Malta.

After all, it is rather good fun, this long voyage.
I have had time to read big books on India, and
the people are some of them pleasant, some of tliem
amusing. They are mostly returning Anglo-Indi-
ans, with something the matter either with their

280 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

lungs or with their livers. They are peevish and pos-
itive, not liking to be contradicted, and very set in
their opinions. ... It is all very nice. Then there
are a few really bright, companionable people, and I
have a beautiful pipe.

An Easter greeting to you all. . . . Thanks for a
lot of good papers and letters, which I received at
Suez. They were a great resource in the canal.

Ever affectionately, P.

Gibraltar, April 1, 1883.

My dear Gertie, — I am so sorry that you have
been ill. If you had only come with me on the Ser-
via, and not stayed at home to work so hard over your
lessons, I do not believe you would have been ill at
all. And this morning the long voyage from Ceylon
would have been over. I wrote you a beautiful letter
two weeks ago to-day from the Verona, which I hope
you got. Ever since that, we have been sailing, and sail-
ing, and sailing, till it seemed as if we were never go-
ing to stop. We did stop two or three times, but we
always had to go aboard and start again. We stopped
at Aden, and Suez, and Port Said, and last Wednesday
at Malta. Malta was very nice. We stayed there six
hours, and wandered about the streets while the Ve-
rona was getting coal. The town is beautifully white
and clean, and the Verona, when we came back to her
again, was very black and dirty. But they washed
her all off while we were at dinner.

At Malta we saw the church where all the old
knights of Malta are bui'ied, and the armor which
they used to wear, and then there is a queer old church,
which the monks have the care of, and when a monk
dies, they do not bury him underground, or burn him

GRANADA. 281

up with fire, which would be better, but they stand
him up in a niche, in his monk's frock, and leave him ;
and there they are, a whole row of dry monks, dread-
ful-looking things, with their labels on them, to tell
who they used to be when they were alive.

Well, Wednesday afternoon we left Malta and
sailed on and on in the Verona. There did not much
happen on the Verona all the way. The people were

not very interesting. Only, Miss G got engaged

to the fourth officer, and that interested us all very

much indeed, and one morning Audley D and

Lawrence K got into a great fight on deck, and

Audley D hit Lawrence K in the eye and hurt

him, and then the two mothers, Mrs. D and Mrs.

K , went at each other and scolded terribly. And

that also interested us very much indeed.

This is about all I can think of that happened on
board the Verona. I can't tell you much about Spain
yet, for I have only been in it about an hour and half.
The people talk Spanish, which is very awkward, but
the sailing up to Gibraltar this morning was splendid.
The narrow gate of the Mediterranean, with its two
great rocks, one in Europe and one in Africa, was all
ablaze with the morning sun, and through it, westward,
lay America and Boston. I am going on Tuesday to
Malaga and then to Granada. . . Give my love to
everybody. Your affectionate,

Uncle Phillips.

Gkanada, under the Walls of the Alhambra,
April S, 1883.

Dear William, — I am very glad to hear about
the new house. I would rather see it this morning
than the Alhambra, which is towering up above my

282 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

windows I What number in M Street is it ?

Are yon going to have ampelopsis growing on the
front wall ? Which is my room ? . . . Do write me
all about it, and tell me how it gets on and how it is
going to look.

I have been a week in Spain, I landed at Gibraltar
last Sunday morning, and immediately wrote a letter
to G. to signal my arrival. I stayed there till Tues-
day, and had a first-rate time. It was good to be on
shore again, and, besides, on the Verona I had struck
vip quite a friendship with a certain Major Wing, who
was coming home from India on sick-leave. He is a
first-rate fellow. He landed at Malta, but he gave me
a letter to the colonel who commands all the artillery
at Gibraltar, and he was immensely civil. He took
me all over the fortifications, introduced me at the
Club, and made me almost live at his house, where
were a very pleasant wife and children ; so I saw
Gibraltar at its best and have the briohtest recollec-
tions of it.

Tuesday night I took the boat for Malaga. David
Whitney and his family were on board, so that I feel
myself really in the Boston atmosphere again. . . .

The Alhambra joins on remai-kably to the remem-
brances of India. Here is the fai-thest west, as there
is the farthest east, of the Mohammedan conquests,
and Granada and Delhi have very much in common
with each other. Granada is the more beautiful, at
least in situation, for here is the Sierra Nevada (as
pretty a range of snowy mountains as was ever seen)
in view all the time, and the best parts of the Alham-
bra beat anything in the old city of the Moguls. Still
I like to stand by India, and the substitution here of
the English tourist (one of whom I heard at lunch

MADRID. 283

declare that this is a very much overrated place) for
the picturesque lliudoo or Mussulman makes a vast
change.

I received some letters here, and among others two
of yours, for which I am as always very grateful. They
brought you down to March 19, just past Professor
Allen's Sunday. There was another letter from
Canon Farrar, fixing it that I am to preach at the Ab-
bey on the 27th of May, and at St. Margaret's on
either the 3d or 10th of June. If the latter, it will
be Hospital Sunday, and so I want you to do me one
more favor. Will you go to my sermons and get me
several Hospital Sunday discourses (they are all in-
scribed on top over the text " Hospital Sunday " ) and
send them to me. . . . This week I expect to meet
the Brimmers, next Sunday I shall jn-obably be in
Seville, the Sunday after in Madrid, and in London
as soon as possible after the 1st of May. Good-by,
love to them all. P.

Madrid, Ai^ril 15, 1883.

Dear William, — Ever since I received your letter
yesterday, I have been trying to realize that it is true
that aunt S. and aunt C. are really gone. It seems
almost impossible to picture the old house as it must
be to-day. ... I wish so much that I had been at
home, and I hope I shall hear from you some time
about the last of those two long, faithful lives. . . .

It seems as if this great change swept away from
the world the last remnants of the backfrround of our
earliest life. Even after father and mother went,
as long as aunt S. lived, there was somebody who had
to do with us when we were babies. Now that gen-
eration has all passed away. How many old scenes

284 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

it brings up. Tliis is Sunday morning, right after
breakfast, and it seems as if I could see a Sunday morn-
ing of the old times in Rowe Street, with the general
bustle of mother and aunt S. getting off to Sun-
day-school, and father settling down to read to the
bigger boys in the front parlor ; and there are faint
memories of much earlier days when the aunts must
have been blooming young ladies, though they seemed
to us then almost as old as they ever did in later times.
I hope the last years of their lives have been happy,
in spite of the suffering. They have been spared what
was most to be dreaded, long, hopeless ilhiess and
helplessness. But I am so sorry to hear that aunt

S had to suffer. ... If there were ever lives

totally unselfish, and finding all their pleasure in mak-
ing other people happy, these were they. We know

aunt S best, of course, but dear little aunt C ,

with her quiet ways, had something very touching
and beautiful about her. She seems to have slipped
out of life as unobtrusively and with as little trouble
as she lived.

When I left them, of course I knew it was very
likely that I should not see them again. But all I
had heard since made me feel as if they would be there
when I came home. I had a nice letter from aunt
Susan in the autiunn, which must have been a good
deal of an effort for her to write, and I wrote to her,
from India, a letter which must have reached Andover
after it was all over.

It cannot be long — one cannot ask that it should

be long — before aunt S follows her sisters. Give

her my love and sympathy. As it may be that she
will go before I come home, the old house be left
empty, and something have to be done about the

SALAMANCA. 285

pro]ierty, I want to say that I should like to buy it,
and 1 authorize you to buy it for me, if the chance of-
fers. Or, if you and Arthur and John would not like
that, I will join with any or all of you to buy and
hold it. I do not know whether you liked it well
enough last summer to think of making it a summer
home, but I should like to hold it as a place where,
for the whole or part of any summer, we could gather
and have a delightful, easy time, among the most
sacred associations which remain for us on earth. A
few very simple improvements would make it a most
charming place, so do not by any chance let it slip,
and hold, by purchase or otherwise, to as much of the
furniture as you can. One of these days, when I am
a little older and feebler, I should like to retire to
it and succeed Augustine Aniory at the little church.
Is not our window done there yet ?

I am sorry for poor little G . I hope she is

better long before this. Tell her I would come home
and see her if I really thought it would make her
rheumatism better. If it does not get well quickly,
tell her to get into the Servia and come over here, and
we will lay her down in the Spanish sun, and melt it
out of her. It is hard for the poor little thing to
have to suffer so. Give her my love, and tell her I
shall be back in about five months.

I am with the Brimmers and the Wisters of Phila-
delphia, a party of seven, which is quite a new travel-
ing experience for me. I like it. I shall be almost
in England when you get this. Good-by, P.

Salamanca, April 29, 1SS3.

Dear William, — And so aunt S too is gone,

and the old house is empty ! I only received your letter

286 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

last evening, and all the night, as I rode here in the
train, I was thinking how strange it was. These
three who began their lives so near together, long ago,
and who have kept so close to one another all the
while, now going almost hand in hand into the other
world. . . . How pathetic it used to be to see aunt
S sitting there, full of pain, trying to do some lit-
tle bit of good in her curious ways, with her queer
little tracts, and her vague desire to exhort everybody
to be good. I always thought she must have been one
of the handsomest of the sisters when they were young.
Surely, no end that we could have dreamed of for
them coidd have been more perfect. But how we
shall miss them !

. . . Such a dear old town as this is ! I am here
alone. Mr. Brimmer stayed at Madrid. I shaU meet
them again on Tuesday or Wednesday at Burgos. No-
body here speaks a word of anything but Spanish, and I
have the funniest time to get along. This morning I
spent two hours in the cathedral, with an old priest
with whom I talked in Latin. One of the towers of
the cathedral gave the suggestion, I think, of the tower
of Trinity Church in Boston. You will find a cut of
it in Fergusson's " Architecture " in my library. The
whole town is a wilderness of architectural delight.
Convents, churches, cloisters, colleges, and towers
everywhere. How I wish you were here this after-
noon. A good long letter from Arthur yesterday.
Very bright and busy. Well, ours is the generation
for the next twenty years, then we shall go as they
have gone, and a new set of youngsters take our places.
It is all right. . . .

BURGOS. 287

Burgos, May 2, 1883.

My dear Lizzie, — Your last letter gave me such
a lively idea of what was going on in New York that
Burgos, by contrast, seems a little dull. Nothing goes
on in Burgos but the cathedral bells. My breakfast,
for which I am waiting, does not seem to go on at all.
But if I think of you all in New York, it will make
my head spin as much as is good for it, in this quiet
place, so I am going to answer your letter, in hopes to
get another.

Wildes would have been so proud and delighted if
he coidd have seen me this morning at 1.17, in fact,
from that to 3.12. No trains in Spain ever connect
with any others, so I was left over all that time at
Yenta di Banos, on my way from Leon here. And I
sat in the railway restaurant at that dead hour of the
night and read the report of the Eighth Church Con-
gress, which had reached me just before I started on
my journey. Think of it ! . . . Was ever such a
tribute paid to the general secretary before ? I was
listening still to Dr. Shattuck's accovmt of the early
Ecclesiastical History of Boston, when the exjjress
train from Madrid came along, and I got in, and soon
the cathedral of Burgos came in sight. It really is a
very great cathedral, the fu\st I have seen in Spain.

The glorious things I have seen in Spain have been,
first, the approach to Gibraltar and the Pillars of Her-
cules ; second, the Alhambra, with the Sierra Nevada
behind it ; and third, the pictures of Velasquez at Mad-
rid. Those things are all superb, worth the journey
here to see, if there were nothing else. There is a lot
else scattered along the road, but those are the great
things, and as to Gothic architecture, he who has seen
Chartres, Rheims, Amiens, and Cologne (to say nothing

288 A YEAR rX EUROPE AXD INDIA.

of York and Diu-ham) need not be impatient about
seeing Se^'ille, or Leon, or Toledo, or even Biu'gos ;
tliousfli Biu-ofos is far the finest of tliem all, and must
rank, though not very high, among the gi-eat^st cathe-
drals of the world.

There is somethino; in then* aiThiteetm*e that is like
the people, a trace of something coarse, a lack of just
the best refinement. The people whose great medi-
eval glory is the Inquisition, and whose gTcat modern
delioht is the bull-fioht, must have somethino- brutal
in their very constitution. Now the Moors were thor-
ough gentlemen, not a touch in them of the sham
which was always in the Hidalgo ; so the ^loorish
architecture is exquisite in its refinement, and Ve-
lasquez was too gTeat for the national coarseness to
spoil him. though he has it, and Gibraltar belongs to
Enoiand I So that Xature and the Moors and Velas-
quez have done the finest things in Spain.

. . . To-morrow I go to Paris, whence I started
last August to join you in CologTie. It has been a
long loop, and has inclosed a lot of pleasant things.
Now the summer is almost here, and then comes —
home. My friend !Mr. Paine, of Boston, talked before
I left of coming over to join me. about the first of
Jidv. and I think he will do so. Write me what vou
and Arthur are doing and planning. My love to him.
Affectionately, Phillips.

WzsTiUNSTXB Palace Hotel, London,
Whit Sunday, May 13, 1883.

Dear William, — ... I left the Brimmers at
Biarritz and came over here from Paris last Tuesday.
Mr. Brimmer has been the most charming com-
pany, and all the party have been very pleasant. I

LONDON. 289

have seen a good many jieople since I arrived. Every-
body is hospitable and kind. This morning I have
been preaching for Canon Duckworth at St. Mark's
in St. John's Wood.

Yesterday I went to the opening of the great Fish-
eries Exliibition, where they have everything you can
imagine, from any land you ever (or never) saw, that
has anything to do with catching fishes. The Prince
and Princess of Wales were there, and the Prince
made a speech. I saw him also the other day at the
Stanley Memorial Committee. He is pleasant-looking
and has easy manners. The new Dean is very cor-
dial and friendly. I samthe new Archbishop the other
day. He looks able and has a real ecclesiastical face.
I found at Barings' the two packages of sermons which
you so kindly sent, and I was gratefid to you in the
midst of the row and hiu-ly-burly of Bishopsgate Street.
They were just what I wanted, except that I am not
to preach on Hospital Sunday after all. Xext Sun-
day morning I preach at the Chapel Royal, Savoy,
one of the old historic churches of London. The fol-
lowing Smiday (27th) I preach at the Abbey in the
evening, and the next Sunday, June 3d, I preach for
Farrar in St. Margaret's.

I have a little plan in which I need your help. I
want to send home some little thing for the church,
and I thought I would get a piece of nice stained
glass for the robing-room wdndow, — the little win-
dow behind which we put on our surplices. It woidd
brighten up a little that rather dolefid room. Woidd
you go to Chester and make him measure it very care-
fully, giving the exact size of the glass inside the frame,
and also showing how much of the "svdndow is arranged
to open. Please make him very carefid about the

290 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

exactness of the measures. Will you do this as soon
as you can, so that I can see about it while I am in
London ?

I suppose by this time the Andover window must
be in its jDlace, and I hope it is quite satisfactory. I
do not suppose that it can be made in any way a
memorial of the aunts, as well as of father and mo-
ther. I almost wish we could put up somewhere a
plain tablet with their names upon it, that they might
be somehow remembered in connection with the
church. They offered, I believe, at one time, a part
of the old orchard as the site for it. I am anxious to
hear what you think of my plans regarding the old
house. The more I think of it, the more I want it.

Speaking of windows, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Fred Dex-
ter in church to-night, and they tell me that the new
window in Trinity is wholly satisfactory and very
beautiful. At present I am very much troubled about
the little triangle in front of Trinity. It looks as if
it woidd be built on, and poor Trinity hidden away
behind a tenement house. If you meet any fellow in
the street who looks as if he would like to give sixty
thousand dollars to keep it open, stop him for me and
tell him we will put ujd a monument to him in Trinity
when he dies. Good-by.

Affectionately, P.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
Sunday, May 20, 1883.

Dear William, — I have been rich in letters this

last week. First came M 's, poetry. . . . Then

Tood's letter, which shows how wonderfully the female
mind is g'ettina' educated in America. To sfet these
letters a few days after they were written makes me

LONDON. 291

feel as if I were almost at home. On the strength of
them, I went yesterday and engaged a passage from
Liverpool for Boston on the Cephalonia, which sails
the 12th of September. So that I ought to be in
Clarendon Street on the 22d, and preach in Trinity
on the 23d ! Will you be glad to see me ?

So you have sold your old house. We had some
very good times there, and it will always be dear to
you. I hope the new one which is building is going
to see the happiest years of all. We are all good for
twenty years more, and they shall be as happy as the
accumulations of the past can make them. Now I am
going off to preach at the Savoy Chapel.

Four p. M.

I have been and preached. There was a great
crowd, and everything went off very well. . . . Then
I took lunch with the Baroness Burdett-Coutts. I
am going there to a dinner on Tuesday, to meet the
new Archbishop. . . .

London is very pleasant now, full of interesting peo-
ple. Friday I dined at Mr. Lowell's, with Professor
Huxley. There were only four of us, so that we had
the great skeptic all to ourselves, and he was very in-
teresting. Next Saturday I am going to Farrar's to
meet a lot of people. Among others, Matthew Arnold,
whom I am very anxious to see. He is coming to
America, I understand, this autumn.

I am glad John preached at Trinity. Tell the sup-
plies to hurry up, for they will not have much more
chance. I am coming home in the Cephalonia.
Meanwhile, why cannot you run over and join Paine
and me this summer ? . . .

Affectionately, P.

292 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,

May 27, 1883.

My dear William, — I am very late about my
Sunday letter. The fact is, I am just home from the
Abbey, where I have been preaching this evening.
There was the same great throng of people that is
always there, and the Abbey was as solemn and glori-
ous as ever. I could not help putting into my sermon
an allusion to our dear little Dean of old, which I
think the people were glad to hear. Then we went
into the deanery, just the way we used to do. I like
the new Dean very much, and his love for Stanley
is delightful. Mrs. Bradley and her daughters are
also very pleasant. A young fellow, Hallam Tenny-
son, son of the Poet Laureate, was there. Does it
not make " In Memoriam " seem very real to meet
those two names together ? He is a very nice fellow,
and asked me to come down to the Isle of Wight and
see his father, which I have a great mind to do. I
preached for Canon Boyd Carpenter this morning, at
Christ Church, Lancaster Gate, near Hyde Park.
Next Sunday morning, I am to preach in old St.
Margaret's for Farrar, which will be very interesting.
He gave me a big dinner last night, with many clerical
folk, the most interesting of whom was Lightfoot, the
Bishop of Durham, one of the great scholars of the
Enolish Church. Matthew Arnold was to have been
there, but at the last moment he was invited to dine
with Prince Leopold, and it seems that means a com-
mand, and breaks every other engagement. . . . Far-
rar has asked me to lunch with him next Thursday,
so I shall see him there.

I went on Tuesday to a tremendous dinner party
at the Baroness Burdett-Coutts's, with swells as thick

LONDON. 293

as huckleberries. Then, for variety, I went on Thurs-
day night with K — to an all-night meeting of

the Salvation Army, what they, in their disagree-
able lingo, call " All night with Jesus." They close
the doors at eleven, and do not let anybody go out till
half past four A. M. We made arrangements before
going in that we shoidd be let out at one A. m., and then
we had to drive an hour in a hansom to get home.
The meeting was noisy and unpleasant, but there was
nothing very bad about it, and I am not sure that it
might not do good to somebody.

One lovely day this week I went on a Cromwell
pilgrimage to Huntington, where Oliver was born, and
saw the register of his baptism, the house in which he
was born, and the country in the midst of which he
grew up. It was the sweetest of days, with the apple-
trees in full blossom, and the hawthorn hedges just
opening in white and pink. These and many other
things have filled up my time very full, but it is very
delightful.

I shall spend two more Sundays in London ; then,
on the 17th of June, I preach for Dean Plumptre
at Wells, and probably on the 26th at Lincoln. I
am o-oing- also to make a little visit to the Bishop of
Rochester.

. . . The 23d of September will soon be here, and
who knows but we may be all together in the old
Andover house by the smnmer of 1884? I hope
notliing will interfere with my plans there. I wish
you were here for to-morrow. We would get up a
'scursion. . . . Affectionately, P.

294 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
June 3, 1888.

My dear Tood, — Your wicked papa has not sent
me any letter this week, and so I am not going to
write to him to-day, but I shall answer your beautiful
letter, which traveled all the way to London, and was
delivered here by a postman with a red coat, two or
three weeks ago. He looked very proud when he
came in, as if he knew that he had a beautifid letter
in his bundle, and all the people in the street stood
aside to make way for him, so that Tood's letter might
not be delayed.

How quicldy you have learned to read and write !
I am very sorry for you, for they now will make you
read and study a gTcat many stupid books, and you
will have to write letters all your days. When I get
home, I am going to make you write my sermons for
me, and I think of engaging you for my amanuensis
at a salary of twenty cents a month, with which you
can buy no end of gumdrops. If you do not know
what an amanuensis is, ask Agnes, and tell her I will
bring her a present if she can spell it right the first
time.

Poor little Gertie ! What a terrible time she has
had. It must have been very good for her to have
you to take care of her, and run her errands, and play
with her, and write her letters. I suppose that is
the reason why you hurried so and learned to write.
It was a great pity that I never got her letter about
the Christmas presents, but I am very glad that you
liked the coupe. What do you want me to bring
you home from London? Write me another letter
and tell me, and tell Gertie I shall be very happy
when I get another letter from her written with her
own little fingers.

LONDON. 295

I want to see your new house, which I am sure will
be very pretty. I wonder where you are going to be
this sunnner ? Now, I am going off to preach in a
queer old church built almost a thousand years ago,
before your father or mother was born. Give my
love to them, and to Agnes, and to Gertie, and to the
new doll. Your affectionate uncle Phillips.

London, June 10, 1883.

Dear William, — This past week has been happy
in two letters from you. The week before I had
none, as I remarked in my letter to Toody of last
Sunday. That seems to have been only an ac-
cident of the mails, and not to mean any failure of
brotherly kindness. For the riches of this week I am
sincerely thankful, but it was sad news that your let-
ter brought about the death of Miss Harmon. A
lonff letter from Allen came at the same time, but I
opened yours first and so learned it from you. She
was a good, true woman, and the amount of help
which she has given to the poor and comfort to the
suffering is incalculable. I have been in the habit of
trusting so much to her of that part of the work for
which I have not the time and am not well fitted to
do, that I shall miss her more than I can say. Her
place can never be filled, and how we can manage to
get along without her I do not see at once. It was
a hard life, but I do not know where one could see
a more useful one

1 have been preaching in St. Paul's to-day by invi-
tation of the Bishop of London. It is Hospital Sun-
day ; the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs came in state, and
there was an enormous crowd there, but it is too aw-
fully big, bald and barren, and needs color dreadfully.

296 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

I should rather have the Abbey, although it is good to
get oue chance at the great Cathedral. On Wednes-
day I am going to another great London sight. I
am to dine with the Lord Mayor and the Lady
Mayoress at the Mansion House, to meet the Arch-
bishop and the Bishops, — a great city dinner with
turtle soup and all that sort o£ thing. It will be good
fxm. Next Sunday 1 am going to spend at Wells
with Plmnptre, whom you remember, and who is now
Dean of Wells. It is one of the prettiest cathedrals
in England. Jolui and I went there three years ago.
On the 21st I am going down to the Isle of Wight
to spend a day and a night at Tennyson's. I have
been, and am going, to a great many dinners and
receptions ; everybody is very hospitable and kind,
and it is very amusing.

In a few weeks I shall be ready to pull up and be
off for the Continent again. I am going on Tuesday
to stay with the Bishop of Rochester, and to-morrow
I go with him to hear the discussion on the marriage
with the deceased wife's sister in the House of Lords.
That is the question which now is keeping England
excited. I have an invitation from the University at
Cambridge to come next spring in May, and preach
three sermons before them. Do you think I could do
it ? Give my love to everybody.

Affectionately, P.

Deanery, Wells, June 17, 1883.

Dear William, — No letter from you the past week.
I suppose there are two upon their way, and I shall
get them both in a day or two. Meanwhile, I wiU
not break my habit of a weekly letter, of which I am
quite proud, for I have kept it up without a break all

WELLS. 297

this year. Just think, it was a year next Wednesday
that we were all hiiddled together on the Servia, and
saw the last of one another in that tremendous crowd.
It has been a delightful year, but one is not sorry to
think that it is over, and only the last flourish of it left
before one turns his face homeward.

Do you remember Dean Plumptre, and the day he
preached at Trinity ? He has grown older, and is now
Dean of Wells, and I am staying with him ; in a few
minutes I am going to preach for him, in one of the
loveliest of the cathedrals. He is a true scholar and
an interesting man. His wife was a sister of the great
theological teacher, Frederick Maurice. . . . There is
staying here a son of Maurice's, Colonel Maurice, who
was in South Africa at Tel El Kebir, and who is writ-
ing his father's Life. He is a very charming person
and makes my little visit much pleasanter than it could
otherwise have been. Then close by lives Freeman,
the historian, whose lectures at the Lowell Listitute
you and I went to hear. Colonel Maurice and I are
going to his house to dinner this evening. ... I
dined the other day with another Lowell lecturer,
Professor Bryce, whom we also went to hear together,
and who is the pleasantest of men and hosts. Stop-
ford Brooke was there, and other interesting people.
One other evening last week I was at the Mansion
House at the Lord Mayor's dinner to the Archbishops
and Bishops. We had the city of London's famous
turtle soup and ever so many curious customs. . . .

Only think, I am writing in a room which the Dean
of Wells built in 1472, in which to entertain Henry
VIL when he was coming back from the conquest
of Perkin Warbeck. Does n't that sound old and
bric-a-brac-ish ? . . .

298 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Farringford, Freshwater,
Isle of Wight, Jvme 22, 1883.

Dear Mary, — Here is another place whieli seems
interestino: enough to be worthy of a few lines to
you. Besides, it is the home of a brother poet of
yours, for Tennyson is sleeping somewhere downstairs,
and that will interest you. So, as they do not have
any breakfast until half past nine, and I am up and
dressed at eight, here goes for a little letter.

I came down here yesterday, a long three hours' run
from London, through a very pretty country, passing
Winchester cathedral and other attractive things upon
the way. At last we crossed the Channel in a little
cockleshell of a steamboat, and landed at Yarmouth,
where Hallam Tennyson was waiting for me with the
carriage. Then a pretty drive over the Downs, with
two or three small villages upon the way, brought us,
in about three miles, to this house. Here the great
poet lives. He is finer than his pictures, a man of
good six feet and over, but stooping as he walks, for
he is seventy-four years old, and we shall stoop if we
ever live to that age. A big dome of a head, bald on
the forehead and the top, and very fine to look at.
His hair, where he is not bald, an iron-gray, with
much whiter mustache and beard, a deep bright eye,
a grand, eagle nose, a mouth which you cannot see, a
black felt hat, and a loose tweed suit. These were
what I noticed in the author of " In Memoriam."

The house is a delightful old rambling thing, whose
geography one never learns, not elegant but very com-
fortable, covered with pictures inside and ivies outside,
with superb ilexes and other trees about it, and lovely
pieces of view over the Channel here and there.

He was just as good as he could be, and we aU

ISLE OF WIGHT. 299

went to a place behind tlie house, where the trees
leave a large circle, with beautiful grass, and tables
and chairs scattered about. Here we sat down and
talked. Tennyson was inclined to be rnisanthroiDic,
talked about Socialism, Atheism, and another great
catastrophe like the French Revolution coming on the
world. He declared that if he were a Yankee, he
would be ashamed to keep the Alabama money, but he
let himself be contradicted about his gloomy views, and
by and by became more cheerful. We had tea out of
doors, took a walk for various views, then, having come
to know me pretty well, he wanted to know if I smoked,
and we went up to the study, a big, bright, crowded
room, where he writes his Idyls, and there we stayed
till dinner time.

Dinner was very lively. Mrs. Tennyson is a dear
old lady, a great invalid, as sweet and pathetic as a
picture. Then there are staying here Mr. Lushington,
a great Greek scholar, a Miss B., who knows every-
body and tells funny stories, and another Miss B.,
her pretty niece, with the loveliest smile. After
dinner, Tennyson and I went up to the study again,
and 1 had him to myself for two or three hours. We
smoked, and he talked of metaphysics, and poetry,
and religion, his own life, and Hallam, and all the
poems. It was very delightful, for he was gentle,
and reverent, and tender, and hopeful. Then we went
down to the drawing-room, where the rest were, and
he read his poetry to us till the clock said twelve.
'^ Locksley Hall," " Sir Galahad," pieces of " Maud,"
(which he specially likes to read), and some of his
dialect poems. He said, by the way, in reading " Locks-
ley Hall " that the verse beginning

" Love took up the glass of time," etc..

300 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

was tlie best simile he ever made ; and that and a cer-
tain Hne in the " Gardener's Daughter," were the ones
on which he most piqued himself. Just after midnight
we came up to bed. They had the prettiest way at
dinner of getting up before the fruit came and going
into the drawing-room, where there was a fresh table
spread by the window, looking out on the lawn and
Channel.

Well, so much about Tennyson. Thanks for your
letter, which was very good to get, . . .

The Precentorv, Lincoln, June 23, 1883.
Dear William, — Is it not pretty hard, when I
think I have a beautiful long letter from you, to open
it and find nothing except some circulars ? You might
at least have written on the back of them. ... I sent
a photograph to G., the other day, which I hope she
likes. Yesterday I came down here. Do you re-
member Lincoln? The cathedral is very gorgeous,
and the old town is quaint. Last night, the Pre-
centor, with whom I am staying, had a dinner-party
of the clergy, with deans, sub-deans, and canons. The
Bishop of Lincoln was there, Wordsworth, nephew of
the poet, a man who ought to have lived five centuries
ago. He said he thought the present House of Lords
would not last more than five years longer, and ought
not to, because they had passed a bill allowing a man to
marry his deceased wife's sister ! The Precentor, my
host, is a nice old gentleman, and the place is very
beautiful and full of association, , , . I preached this
morning in the cathedral, close to the place where St.
Hugo lies buried, and took tea this afternoon with the
sub-dean, in the room where Paley, who used to be
sub-dean here, wrote his "Natural Theology,"

LONDON. 301

To-morrow, I go back to London. On Wednesday,
Paine arrives from America, and my subsequent move-
ments will be somewhat governed by liim. Indeed,
the 12th of September seems so near that it does not
much matter what one does between. . . .

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
Sunday, July 1, 1883.

Dear William, — You are forty-nine years old
to-morrow ! Are you glad or sorry ? Almost half a
century, you see, and the only bother about it is that
there is so much less remaining, for life has been very
good, and one wishes there were more of it. I wish
we were all going to live to be five hundred. But
no matter ! There are pleasant times still ahead,
and we will make the most of them, so that when
another forty-nine years are past, and you are ninety-
eight, we shall agree that the second half has been
even better than the first. I am all the more in a
hurry to get home and begin the new period, now that
you are forty-nine, seven times seven, which they say
is the grand climacteric of life. But to-night I send
you my heartiest God bless you, and congratulations
upon all the past and hopes for all the future.

I am writing in Paine's room, for he has the luxury
of a parlor, and I use it as if it were my own. He
arrived on Wednesday, and I was glad enough to see
him ; since then we have talked over a thousand
things. It is wonderfully like being at home again to
hear so directly from you all. . . .

I preached for Dr. Yaughan at the Temple, this
morning. It was a noble congregation, the church
packed with lawyers, and the service very beautiful.
The good doctor had a long surplice made especially

302 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

for the occasion, and presented it to me as a memento,
so the Temple surplice will stand in Trinity pulpit for
many years. Last Sunday I wrote to you from Lin-
coln. I came back from there on Monday, and have
had a very interesting week. There was a dinner at the
Bishop of Carlisle's, with many interesting people,
an evening- in the House of Lords, where the bill for
allowing marriage with the deceased wife's sister got
defeated, a luncheon down at Dulwich, whither I went
with the Bishop of Rochester and Dr. Boyd of St.
Andrew's, who wrote the "• Recreations of a Country
Parson." At luncheon I sat between Robert Brown-
ing and Jean Ligelow, and had a delightful time.
Then I went down to the Tower with a party of gov-
ernment people, Gladstone, and Foster, and Bright,
and others. There was an evening party at Lady Stan-
ley's, where I saw Browning again, and yesterday
afternoon Newman Hall gave me a party. These and
some other things have filled the week, and it has
been most enjoyable. To-morrow, I am going down
with Farrar to spend a night with a friend of his in
the country, to meet Matthew Arnold, who lives some-
where there.

This afternoon, Paine and I drove out to Hamp-
stead Heath and saw Holiday, who made his and Mr.
Morrill's windows. The last time I saw him was
when I went to order Paine's window, when you and I
were in London together. How I wish you were here
now ! Paine is deeply interested in charity organiza-
tions, dispensaries, police stations, and all that sort of
thing. We shall stay here probably three, certainty
two weeks longer, and then be off for the great Conti-
nent. It has grown quite hot, and in a few weeks
more we shall be glad to be away. There are a great

LONDON. 303

many Americans here. ... I watch every letter to
hear what your plans are for the summer, and where
yov: will be when I get home. Already the promise of
autumn begins to appear. Allen has written to ask
me to a dinner of the club on the 24th of September,
and President Eliot wants me to take morning prayers
at Cambridge during November. This is Commence-
ment week. You have had Arthur and John with
you, I suppose, and I hope that you talked about me.

Good-by, my love to G .

Your affectionate P.

Westminster Palace Hotel, July 8, 1883.

Dear William, — . . . I am having a first-rate
time, but it is all the pleasanter because it is not going
to last forever. The Cephalonia (No. 28 is our room)
will sail on the 12th of September. I will tell you
what I have been doing this week.

Monday, I went down to the country to stay with
Mr. Leaf, a friend of Farrar's. It was a lovely place,
with a glorious park, great trees, and a sumptuous
house. There we passed an idle day, and in the even-
ing had a big dinner, to which came Matthew Arnold
and his daughter, who live close by. He was very
amusing, and the next morning 1 went to breakfast
with him, saw his wife, his house and study, and liked
him very much. He has promised to stay with me
when he comes to Boston.

On Tuesday, I came back to town, and we had a
pleasant dinner party that night at the house of a Mr.
Mills. After that was over, I went to one of Mrs.
Gladstone's receptions, to which I was invited to see
the Grand Old Man; he had to go to the House
of Commons, and so I did not see him; but I am

304 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

going there again next Tuesday. Wednesday was the
4th of July, which we celebrated by calling on the
American minister. Thursday was speech day at
Harrow School, and Paine and I went. I was there
with John three years ago, and was glad to go again.
The boys spoke well, and it was very bright and quite
like Class Day. Then we had a luncheon, where Lord
Dufferin and I made speeches. When I came back I
went to dinner at Lady Frances Baillie's, the sister of
Dean Stanley's wife. It was very pleasant. We had
Grove, and Robert Browning, and the Bishop of Litch-
field; and my companion was Mrs. Ritchie (Thack-
eray's daughter), who wrote "The Village on the
Cliff" and all those nice novels, and who told me a
great deal about her father. Friday, I went to Rich-
mond and saw the prettiest view in England, and in
the evening dined with the Precentor at the Abbey.
After dinner, we went into the Abbey and strolled
about in the dark, with wonderfully pretty effects in
the great arches. Saturday, I went to a garden party
at Fulham Palace, the Bishop of London's, where
there were many clergymen, and in the evening ten
miles out of town to Upper Tooting, where I dined
with Mr. Macmillan, the publisher.

Have you read "John Liglesant " ? Mr. Short-
house, the man who wrote it, was the principal guest, and
there were a great many agreeable people. This morn-
ing, we went to the Foundling Hospital and heard the
children sing, so the week has gone with a good deal
of sight-seeing to fill up the gaps. Everybody is hospi-
table and kind, and it would be pleasant to stay here
a long time ; but our departure now is definitely fixed
for the 19th, when we shall go somewhere on the Con-
tinent. We do not yet know where, or I would tel]

LONDON. 305

you, l)ut no doubt our uncertainty will solve itself in
the course of the next week, and by next Sunday I can
tell you something of our summer's route. All the
time, while our weather here is delightful, you are
sweltering in heat. This morning's paj)er says the
heat in New York yesterday was terrible. I am awfully
sorry for you. Do take a steamer and come over, you
and the total family, and we will lie upon the grass
in Hyde Park together till you all get cool. . . .
God bless you all always. P.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
Jidy 10, 1883.

My Dear Gertie, — ... I wish you were here,
for it is beautifully fresh and cool, and we would go off
and see some kind of pretty things. I went down into
the country the other day, and saw some people whom
I met on the journey home from India. It was the
prettiest place, and you would have enjoyed it ever so
much. ,

They had the biggest strawberries you ever saw, and
you would have enjoyed picking them a great deal
more than I did. I wish strawl)erries grew on trees.
They would be so much easier to pick. There was a
nice little girl there who was a great friend of mine
on the voyage. Her name is Nora, and she gave me
her photograph. I think I will put it into this letter,
so that you can see what an English child looks like,
only you must keep it safe and give it to me when I get
to Boston, for I told Nora Buchanan that I should
keep it till I saw her again. Her father has a tea
plantation up in the Himalaya Mountains, and her
mother and she go there every winter. She has got a
pony named Brownie, and a big dog and a little dog,
and lots of pets.

306 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

When we get to living up in the okl house at An-
dover, we will have some dogs too, and perhaps some
day we will get a pony for you to ride on ; or would
you rather have a donkey with long ears, and a
delightful little cart to drive in ? What did you do
on the 4tli of July ? The people here seemed to think
that it was just like any other day ; nobody was firing
crackers, or blowing soap bubbles, and there were no
American flags flying anywhere ; but one day, two
weeks ago, London was greatly excited, it being the
Queen's Coronation Day, and I met the Lord Mayor
in his coach, with a red cloak on and a big gold chain
around his neck. I thank you so much for your little
note, and for the picture of yourself, which is set up
in my room. You must write to me again when
you can, and I will see you in September. By that
time you must be well and fat and rosy. Now good-
by. My love to Agnes and Toodie.

Your loving uncle, P.

Westminstek Palace Hotel, July 15, 1883.
Dear William, — . . . On Thursday next, the
19th, we leave England. We had to fix some certain
day and hold to it, or we should have never got away.
We go first through France into the Pyrenees, where
we shall get a little journey, just enough to see what
they are like, and then by interesting routes, more
or less out of the way, into the Tyrol through Swit-
zerland. Next Sunday, July 22, we probably shall
spend at Bagneres de Luchon, pretty near the Spanish
border. I am sorry to leave London, and never shall
forget my two months here. It has been great fun,
and the hospitality of everybody has been most
abundant. The last week has been busy socially.

LONDON. 307

The pleasantest evening, perhaps, was Tuesday at Mr.
Gladstone's, where I had a good sight of and talk with
the great man, and gazed at a multitude of splendid
folks with diamonds and titles. He is certainly the
greatest man in England, and the look of him is quite
worthy of his fame. Another evening I dined in the
Jerusalem Chamber with the Dean and Chapter of the
Abbey, and the members of their choir. That was
very jolly, and recalled the time eight years ago when
I went to the same dinner and sat by Stanley's side.
This morning I am going to preach for Llewellyn
Davis, whom you and I once went to hear in St. Paul's.
He is a most interesting man and one of the best
spirits in the English Church. This will be my last
sermon in England. Mr. Macmillan has asked me to
publish the sermons which I have preached here, un-
der the title " Sermons Preached to English Congre-
gations," and I have about made up my mind to do so.
He is the publisher of my last volume. This one will
have thirteen sermons, and be a pleasant memento of
my English visit. I have declined the invitation to
come and preach at Cambridge next spring, but tliey
have intimated that it will be repeated some other
year, and then I should like to come and make a uni-
versity visit. I have seen nothing of the universities
this time.

I want to see you all dreadfully. ... P.

London, July 15, 1883.
My dear Hattie, ^ — It was most hind of you to
take up the pen which your husband had so long-
dropped, and write me the pleasant letter which I
got last week, and it seems that its quiet rebuke was
felt, for John wrote the next day. Behold the noble

1 A sister-in-law.

308 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

influence o£ a good wife ! . . . Now I think of you as
having the happiest of summers in your seashore home.
As I listen Marionwards, I hear a rich, low sound of
which I am not quite sure whether it is the moaning
of the sea, as it beats on your back doorstep, or the

theological discussions of B , P , and J

under the haystack. Either sound would be delight-
ful. To have them both together in your ears all day
must be a little heaven below, and it must be all the
j)leasanter to yovi this year, because you can look
back to such a bright, successful winter in Springfield,
and look forward to another, which will no doubt
be still better. I am so thankful to hear of the way
in which every difficulty has disappeared. ... I wish
I could hope to run to Marion this autumn, and see
you on your own rocks, with your young barbarians at
play about you. But I shall be home too late, and
dear me ! I sometimes pleasantly shiver in the midst
of this delightful idleness at the thought of how much
there is to do next winter. It is like thinking of
January in July. But, fortunately, less and less de-
pends on us, and the younger clergy, who read Second
Lessons at the Diocesan Convention, have the brunt
of the battle.

Give my tenderest love to your young clergyman.
Tell him I thank him heartily for his letter. Be sure
that I thank you sincerely for yours. Kiss the babies
for me, and remember that I am always,

Affectionately, P.

Pau, Sunday, July 22, 1883.

Dear William, — The curtain has fallen and risen
again ; the whole scene has changed. London, with
all its fun, is far away, and here we are close to the

PAU. 309

Pyrenees. It is delightfully cool and pleasant, and
the view out of my window is wonderfidly beautiful.
I have time enough to look at it, for I am laid up
with a lame leg. On the way from Chartres to Bor-
deaux I struck my leg in leaving the railway coach,
and this morning I sent for a French doctor, who bade
me lie still to-day. So here I am, writing, like M., on
a book instead of a table. The queer little doctor
assures me that it will be all right to-morrow morning,
and then we shall push on up to Eaux Bonnes. It is
only a bruise, I believe. Paine is as kind as kind can
be, and does everything for me, and we are having a
delightful time. Just now he has gone out to see the
town, and I am trying to write in this miserable way
upon my back.

I am busy getting my volume of sermons ready for
Macmillan. Seven of them are finished, and there
will be seven more. The volume will be called " Ser-
mons Preached in English Churches," and will be
dedicated " To many friends in England, in remem-
brance of their cordial welcome." I never can forget
how hospitable English people were. I counted up,
before I left London, sixty separate occasions on which
I had been entertained, and at almost all I had seen
interesting people. We left London last Thursday
morning.

. . . We came through that night to Chartres,
which Paine had never seen, and the next night to
Bordeaux, and yesterday here. I have been buying
a lot of books in London, and just before I left, Mac-
millan kindly undertook to have them packed and sent
to your care. There will be one or two big boxes of
them. Will you see to them when they arrive, and
have them sent to my house ? They are all for my

310 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

owii use, mostly theological books, and ought to pass
as tools of trade. Of course, if they must pay duty,
you will pay it for me. They have been bought so
miscellaneously in many places, one here and another
there, that I cannot say just what they have cost, but
it is about $800 or |900. You must do what you
^ think best about it, and I hope it will not give you a
great deal of trouble. . . .

Yours affectionately, P.

Bagneres de Luchon,
Sunday, July 29, 1883.

Dear William, — ... We have had a splendid
Pyrenean week. Great mountains with snowy sides,
beautiful rich valleys, wild ravines, quaint villages, a
handsome, happy people, and bright skies, — anybody
ought to look back with pleasure on a whole week of
these. It is not exactly like any other country which
I know. Perhaps it is more like some parts of the
Tyrol than anything else. It reminds me at times of
some parts of the road up the valley of the Inn, which
you and I drove up together once. There is a luxuri-
ance about these valleys, of which I hardly ever saw
the like. The way they overrun with water is delicious.
You are never away from the sound of a brook or
a waterfall. Streams run by the side of every road.
There are fountains in every man's back yard, every
bank has a small cascade tumbling over it, and all the
rocks look as if Moses had been about here with
his rod, striking out right and left. Last night the
abundance of waters culminated in a drenching rain,
and we reached here in the midst of floods. This
morning all is bright as Paradise. It is a garden of
a place, way up in the ]nlls, and the Frenclmien have

BAGNERES DE LUCHON. 311

made a pretty summer resort of it. I am still a little
lame, and am lying- by to get well. The week's travel-
ing lias not given me much chance to repair my leg,
and I hope my conversation has been better than my
walk. Taking pity on my imprisonment, the band
came this morning and played under my window, and
the Frenchmen and Frenchwomen strolled up and
down, and the sun shone, and it was like a sort of
Class Day up in the Pyrenees on Sunday. It is as
pretty as a picture.

There was a great deal grander place which we saw
the other day at Gavarnie, where a wild valley pierces
into the hills until it brings up against a tremendous
wall of rock in a great amphitheatre, and has to stop
because it can get no farther. It is like a splendid
end of the world. You can only guess what lies on
the other side of the rocks, heaven or hell. Really,
it is Spain, which is a little of both. Out of the side
of the high wall leaps a cascade, 1300 feet high, and
tumbles down into a caldron of mist aud foam. It
is a wonderful place.

Last Wednesday morning we were at Lourdes, one of
the strangest places in the world, and suggestive of all
sorts of thoughts and questions. It was here that al-
most thirty years ago a little girl saw the Virgin Mary
standing in a grotto, and a spring burst out which
since that has been curing hosts of sick people, who
have come from the ends of the earth. Now there is
a gorgeous church there, crowds of worshipers, a hun-
dred thousand pilgrims yearly, and a heap of disused
crutches and camp stools, which the cured have left
behind them. The street through the town is one
long market of crosses, and pictures, and rosaries, and
statuettes of Mary. The whole was wonderfully like

312 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

the street which leads down to the Ganges at Benares,
with its booths full of brass images of Vishnu, Siva,
Ganesha, and Kali.

To-morrow we shall be off to Toulouse, and then by
the Grande Chartreuse to Geneva, where we spend
next Sunday. . . .

Ever affectionately, P.

Hotel de la Paix, Geneva,

August 5, 1883.

Dear William. — Yesterday I received your let-
ter of July 23, which gave me the greatest anxiety

about poor little G . It is very hard indeed that

she should have had a relapse, and lost something of
the hard-won ground. I hate to think how she must
have suffered this long winter and spring. My com-
fort is, that the news is two weeks old, and before
this she must be in Sharon, which is to be the foun-
tain of life to her. If I believed all the wonderful
stories of what it does, I should send you a bottle of
the miraculous water of Lourdes, and we would be
grateful worshipers of the Virgin for all the good that
it might do the dear little thing. I shall not do that,
but I shall be very anxious until, next Sunday at
Interlaken, I hear of your reaching Sharon and what'
are the results.

Do you remember this hotel, and the forenoon
which we spent at Geneva ? It is as bright as ever,
and the lake this Sunday morning is shining like a
monstrous jewel. Do you remember how we talked
about the Grande Chartreuse and the possibility of
getting there, but finally concluded that it was too
remote and took the train for Basle and Strasburg:
instead ? We came out of the Pyrenees by Toulouse

GENEVA. 313

and Nimes, and spent last Friday night up at tlie
Grande Chartreuse. Arthur and Lizzie went there
last year. Whether they spent the night or not I do
not know. The diive up to the wonderful old nest of
the monks is very fine. Most splendid valleys, at first
open and broad and bathed in sunshine, and then
growing narrower and wilder, until they were nothing
but woody gorges ; and finally opening into the little
plateau on which the monastery buildings stand and
seem to fill the whole place from one mountain side
to the other.

There are about forty fathers there, Carthusians,
in their picturesque white cloaks and cowls. Solitude
and silence is their rule. They spend the bulk of the
time in their cells, where they are supposed to be med-
itating. I suspect that the old gentlemen go to sleep.
There was a strange, ghostly service, which began at
a quarter before eleven o'clock at night and lasted
until two in the morning. The chapel was dim and
misty, the white figures came gliding in and sat in a
long row, and held dark lanterns up before their psal-
ters and chanted away at their psalms like a long row
of singing mummies. It made you want to run out in
the yard and have a game of ball to break the spell.
Instead of that, after watching it for half an hour, we
crept back along a vast corridor to the cells which
had been allotted us, each with its priedieu and its
crucifix, and went to bed in the hardest, shortest,
and liunpiest of beds. In the morning a good deal of
the romance and awfulness was gone, but it was very
fine and interesting, and the drive down into the valley
on the other side at Chambery was as pretty as a whole
gallery of pictures. Thence we came by rail, and
reached here Friday night.

314 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

Yesterday we drove out to Ferney and saw where
Voltaire used to live ; looked at tlie bed in which he
used to sleep and at the church which he built. It
has over its front door perhaps the strangest of all
strange inscriptions which men have carved on
churches, —

" Deo Erexit Voltaire."

Here we fall into the tide of travel again, and
Americans abound. The Suters are all here. I shall
l^reach to them in the American church this morning,
and I shall find myself looking for you and your
family two pews behind them. Richard Weld and
his wife and sons are also here, and a lot of other
Americans whom I never saw, but feel as if I had
seen every day of my life. . . . Seven weeks from to-
day I preach in Trinity. . . .

MuREEN, Aiignst 12, 1883.

Dear William, — I went to church this morning
in a little thing which the preacher declared to be the
most splendidly situated church in Christendom, and
I rather think he was right. Do you remember when
we were at Interlaken and went over to Grindelwald,
how after it stopped raining we climbed u\) to the
Wengern-Alp and looked the Jungfrau in the face ?
On the other side of the Lauterbrunnen Valley, into
which we descended that day, stands the great hill upon
whose top is Miirren. We came here yesterday after-
noon, and such a Sunday as this was hardly ever seen.
From extreme right to extreme left was one unbroken
range of the very highest of snowy peaks, and all day
they have been superbly clear. I remember one Sun-
day, with a fellow up on the Gornergrat, which must

MURREN. 315

have been about as fine. Finer Sundays than those
two, nobody ever had anywhere.

There are a multitude of English and German
people here, but so far as I have learned, R. T. Paine,
Jr., and I are the only Americans. The preacher
this morning was an old English friend, Dr. Butler,
the master of Harrow School, and he is the only person
whom I ever saw before. But that is all the better,
for one has nothing to do but stare at the hills. I saw
the first sunlight strike them at half past four this
morning. Besides staring at them, I have been en-
gaged to-day in reading my own sermons. Half the
proof of the new volmne reached me from Macniillan
yesterday, and I have read the interesting discourses
through to-day. I hope the public will not get so
tired of them as I have.

To-morrow we go down again to Interlaken, then to
Lucerne, over that Brunig Pass where you and I drove
once in the dust, thence through the new St. Gotthard
tunnel to lake Como, and then a journey by a back
road through northern Italy, coming out in the Dolo-
mites and working back to Paris by Munich. We
shall be in Paris about the 5th of September, and six
weeks from to-day I preach in Trinity.

. . . Tell G. I shall expect her to come and make
me a visit just as soon as the old house gets to rights
again. I will feed her up and get her well, show her
all the pretty things I have bought, and give her a lot
of the prettiest for her ownty-donty. How I wish you
were all here this afternoon, with John, Arthur, and
their families. Pei-haps we can get up a great as-
sembly at Andover next summer. I am hoping for a
letter from you to-morrow at Interlaken. I am glad
the Andover window is done and is so satisfactory. I
am eager to see it. There goes an avalanche. . . .

316 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

MiJRKEN, August 13, 1883.

My dear Lizzie, — I am not quite svire whether I
owe you a letter, or you owe me one. I rather think
our last letters crossed upon the road, and that always
leaves a doubt. I imagine that a good many corre-
spondences have died that way. But ours shall not.
I will write to you anyhow, and show you that I am
not mean. You have been at Miirren, have n't you ?
and can anything be finer than this Eiger and Monch
and Grosshorn and Breithorn and Mittaghorn ? We
have spent two whole days up here, reading novels and
staring at the hills. Each morning at half past four
we have seen the first sunlight strike the peaks, and
all day the sky has been cloudless. Now we are going
to turn our backs upon it and walk down to Lauter-
brunnen. Every step now seems a step homeward,
for six weeks from yesterday I am going to preach in
Trinity again. It will seem strange to stand at that
little desk once more. I shall crawl back before
the people return to town, and when they come, full
of the recollections of the splendors of last winter,
they will find only me. But I shall enjoy it if they
don't, and then the old life will begin again. There
will be some changes, but it is good to know that I
shall fmd you and Arthur just as I left you, only
I want to see the new church and enjoy it, as I know
I shall. . . .

. . . And where are you? Roaming along the
shores of Grand Menan, or reveling like Sybarites in
the luxurious life of " up the river." . . . You will
come on to the General Convention and look at us,
while we are sitting in the great assembly, will you
not ? And on the way there and back, I shall steal
quiet evenings for logomachy and talk in the Madi-

TRENTO. 317

son Avenue hermitage. How nice and familiar it all
sounds, and it is almost here. Will you not meet us
in Brussels, where we parted, and we will peel off
sticky photographs for an evening, and then come home
together. My love to Arthur.

Ever affectionately, P.

Tkento, Sunday, August 19, 1883.

Dear Gertie, — I bought the prettiest thing you
ever saw for you the other day. If you were to guess
for three weeks, making two guesses every minute, you
could not guess what it is. I shall not tell you,
because I want you to be all surprised to pieces when
you see it, and I am so impatient to give it to you
that I can hardly wait. Only you must be in a great
hurry and get well, because you see it is only five
weeks from to-day that I shall expect to see you in the
dear old study in Clarendon Street, where we have
had such a lot of good times together before now.
Just think of it ! We '11 set the music box a-going,
and light all the gaslights in the house, and get my
doll out of her cupboard, and dress Tood up in a
red pocket handkerchief and stand her up on the
study table, and make her give three cheers ! And
we '11 have some gingerbread and lemonade.

I 've got a lot of things for you besides the one
which I bought for you the other day. You could n't
guess what it is if you were to guess forever, but this
is the best of all, and when you see it you will jump
the rheumatism right out of you. I hope you will be
quite well by that time. What sort of a place is
Sharon ? Do not write to me about it, but tell me all
about it when I see you. What a lot you will have
to tell. You can tell me what was in that Christ-

318 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

mas letter which the wicked mail-man never brought
to me.

Good-by, dear little girl. Don't you wish you knew
what it was that I bought for you the other day?
Give my love to Agnes and Tood.

Your affectionate uncle, P.

Trento, August 19, 1883.

Dear Mary, — I have come to another place which
seems to justify a letter to you. Three hundred and
twenty-eight years ago, a lot of clergymen climbed up
here into the mountains and held the Council of Trent,
and fixed forever the Church of Konie. Last night
Paine and I arrived here in the train, and are holding
our council now in the Hotel de Trento. This morn-
ino- we went to the old church in which the Council
sat, and there we listened to a sermon which we did
not understand, looked at a crowded congi^egation of
people (as different from that which meets in Trinity
as anybody can imagine), and wondered how the old
church looked when the Bishops and Archbishops
were sittins^ there in council three hundred and
twenty-eight years ago.

Just in front of me was a poor old weather-beaten
lady, who went fast asleep in the sermon time and
woke up beautifully refreshed when it was over. I
rather think the sleep did her more good than the
sermon would have done, for she looked as if she had
been overworked ever since she was a baby, and that
was long ago. On the walls hung a picture of the
Council, and after service we went off to the other
church, where is the crucifix before which all the
Tridentine Fathers, when their long work was over,
said their prayers. How modern it makes our

INNSBRUCK. 319

General Convention of this autumn look, and yet it is
tlie modern things that are of more interest to us than
all the old ones ; and more important to me to-day,
a great deal, than the Council of Trent is poor little
G.'s chamber at Sharon. I wonder whether, in the
two weeks since she went there, the waters have done
her good. I cannot tell you how anxious I am, or
how, getting the news only once a week, I wait in
suspense to hear what the blue envelopes will bring
which the Barings send to meet us. If I were at
home, I would take the train to Sharon and see what
sort of a nurse I should make for the dear little wo-
man. At least I could know how it fared with her,
and perhaps you would not mind having me about,
and if I were very much in the way I could go out
and smoke my cigar behind the house. But it is not
long now. Five weeks from to-day I shall be in the
old place again. I will not think of anything else
than that then you will be back from Sharon, with G.
vastly better for it, and the new house as lively as a
summer's day. And then what a winter we will have.
There goes the church-bell again ! They are going
to have another meeting in the Council church, but I
shall stay at home and write my letters. To-morrow
morning a carriage will start with us for a three days'
drive through the glorious Dolomites, and next Sunday
I shall hear at Wildbad-Gastein how you all are. . . .

Tykoler Hof, Innsbruck,

Aug-ust 26, 1883.

Dear William, — ... We ordered letters sent
to Bad Gastein, but when we reached Innsbruck (you
remember Innsbruck) we found there was to be to-day
a Passion Play at Brixlegg, a little village only an

320 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

hour from here, and we determined to stop over. We
have spent the whole Sunday there, and it has been a
wonderfully interesting day. Thirteen years ago I
started for Ober-Aimnergau, and the Franco-Prussian
war stopped the play before I reached there. This
Brixlegg play is Ober-Ammergau on a small scale and
in rather a more primitive fashion. The whole story
of Christ's Passion, from the Entry into Jerusalem to
the Resurrection, is acted by the peasants in the most
devout fashion, and with a power and feeling that are
very wonderful. It occupies about five hours, with
an intermission of an hour and a half in the midst. It
is given in a rude barn-like building, set up for the
purpose, with curious quaint scenery, and most effec-
tive tableaux. It is a good thing to see once, for
it is a rare remnant of what was common in the
Middle Ages, and furnishes a remarkable study of
the character of the people to whom such a thing is
a possibility. . . .

I wiU tell you all about tliis when I get home, if you
want to hear. Innsbruck looks just as it did when
you and I drove out of it five years ago on the way
to the Stelvio. The big mountain still throws its
shadow down the Theresien Strasse, and the wonderful
bronze people stand ai'ound Maximilian's tomb in the
Hof Kirche. But only think. The railway runs all
the way to Imst, and the steam whistle has vulgarized
the lovely vaUey. Are you not glad we went there
first ? Perhaps it has improved the Imst Hotel !

This last week I thought of you at the first sight of
the Inn Valley, but up to that time we were in the
Dolomites, where the associations were rather with
Arthur, who traveled there with me in the early days,
befoi-e you and I were fellow-travelers.

INNSBRUCK. 321

To-morrow we are off for Bad Gastein, and then
come Ischl, Salzbnrg-, and next Sunday, Munich ; then,
Paris and London. Two weeks from next Wednes-
day we set sail. So I shall send you only one more
letter. But I shall hear from you, and I will thank
you ever so much if you telegraph me just one word
to the Cephalonia at Queenstown upon the 12th. Four
weeks from tonight, perhaps we shall be smoking to-
gether in the rectory. . . .

Innsbruck, August 26, 1883.

Dear Gertie, — How I envy the little Tyrolese
girls their health and strength to-day ! I wanted to steal
half of it, and send it home in a box to you. They
never would have missed it, for they have a great deal
more health than they know what to do with. Their
cheeks are as red as the sunset, and they look as if
they never heard of such a thing as rheumatism ! But
never mind, I am coming home soon now, and you
will forget all about this ugly winter.

I have been seeing the people in a little village to-
day act a part of the New Testament story. A lot of
the children took part in it, and I send you a photo-
graph of one of them, a little girl who walked in the
procession which came with Jesus into Jerusalem on
Palm Sunday. She was a cunning little thing, and
carried her palm branch as you see, and cried, " Ho-
sanna ! " as she walked along. I wish you had been
there to see her.

Was it not funny that I should hear about you on
the street at Innsbruck ? You see how famous you are
and how people know about you all over the world.
The person who knew about you here was Miss Wales,
who came out of a shop last Friday afternoon just as

322 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

we were going in. She looked just like a slice out of
old Boston, and she had some letters from home about
your visit to Sharon, or perhaps she saw it in the
papers !

I wonder if you will be back when I get home, and
I wonder if you will be glad to see me ! I got you an-
other present the other day, but you could n't guess
what that is either. Good-by ! Get well ! And give
my love to Agnes and Tood. I think of you a great
deal. Your affectionate uncle, P.

Munich, September 2, 1883.

Deak Gertie — When I came away, the first man
that wrote me a letter only two days after the Servia
had steamed out of New York Bay was you. And now
that I am coming home, the last letter which I write
from the Old World to any man in America shall be
to you. For I want to tell you myself that I shall see
you on September 22. I suppose you will not be qviite
able to run over to the wharf at East Boston when
the Cephalonia gets in, but I shall come up to see
you just as soon as the custom house people let me out
of prison, after I have paid the duties upon all the
heaps of presents I have got for you !

Was n't it good that the baths at Sharon helped you
so much ? I was at a place the other day where the
people take baths for rheumatism. It is called Bad
Gastein, but it is n't bad at all ; it is very good. It is
away back in the hills, and there 's a tremendous water-
fall which runs right through the house, and keeps up
such a racket that you can't get any sleep. But that
does no great harm, because you have to take your
bath so early that, if it were not for the waterfall in
the next room, you would sleep over and never get

MUNICH. 323

your batli at all, and so some time you might liave the
rheumatism all your life. I didn't have any rheu-
matism, so I went and took a bath for yours, and I
rather think that is what made you feel so much
better. You thought it was the baths you were tak-
ing at Sharon, but it was really the bath I was taking
at Bad Gastein !

I wonder how soon you will come and see me when
I get back. Everybody here eats his breakfast, and
luncheon, and dinner outdoors. I like it, and think
I shall do so myself when I get home ; so when you
come to breakfast, we will have our table out on the
grass plot in Newbury Street, and Katie shall bring
us our beefsteak there. Will it not make the children
stare as they go by to school ? We '11 toss the crumbs
to them and the robins. But you must hurry and get
well, or we cannot do all this. My love to Agnes and
Tood. Your affectionate uucle, P.

Hotel Baierischek Hof, Munich,
September 2, 1883.

Dear William, — ... This last day of home writ-
ing makes me feel queer. I wonder whether it is really
ti'ue that three weeks from to-day I am to preach in
Trinity. I wonder whether I shall really look so old
and thin that people will not know me. I wonder
whether those heathen are still chattering and chaffer-
ins: ill the Chandni-Chauk at Delhi. I wonder whether
I have really got enough benefit out of all this pleas-
ant year to make it worth while to have come. This
last wonder is the hardest of all. Sometimes I think
I have, and then again I do not know. At any rate I
shall try, and if I find when I begin to preach that
I am really as idiotic as I sometimes seem to myself,

324 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA.

there are several little hidden nooks in Europe which
I know, where I can go and hide my disgrace, and
nobody will hear o£ me any more forever. But per-
haps it will not come to that. . . .

Why cannot you make use of my house this autumn,
until your own is thoroughly dry and safe ? Pray do
not think of going into it. You must not let G. run
the slightest danger of a relapse. Nothing would give
me greater pleasure than to find you all in Clarendon
Street. On my return, on the 2d of October, I go
to Philadelphia ; shall practically be absent all that
month, and you can have free swing. So pray do go
there, and please me.

You remember this hotel and the bright, pretty
city. . . . But what 's the use of wi'iting, when I shall
be at home a week after you get this. 3fi/ last letter.
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! My final love ; I am coming
home.

Affectionately, P.

ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

1885.

Steamship Etrukia, May 15, 1885.

My dear Gertie, — This letter will show you that
I have got safely over to Queenstown. The people
are just finishing their breakfasts in the cabin, that is,
the lazy ones who have come up late from their state-
rooms.

I had my breakfast two hours ago, and have been
walking up and down the deck since then. There are
a lot of people up there, among them a good many
children. Some very nice-looking boys ! Everybody
seems to have had a pleasant voyage. There has been
no storm, and most of the time the water has been as
quiet as a bath tub. On Sunday it was a little rough.
The Doctor read service, and we had no sermon, be-
cause the people wanted to get on deck again.

I received the letter which you all wrote to me. I
found it on the table in the cabin, just after the
steamer sailed. It was very good of you to write, and
it made a very pleasant last good-by, after uncle
Arthur had left me on deck, and I thought I should
not see or hear from anybody I knew, at least for a
whole week.

... I wish you were here ! We would go to walk
on the deck and see the people play shuffleboard, then
we would find a quiet place behind the smokestack
and sit down and smoke. I suppose you are getting

326 ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

ready to go up to North Andover. Do take good care
of " Tom," and do not let the pony bully him. . . .
When you get tliis, think of me in London having a
beautiful time . . . Ever and ever

Your affectionate uncle, P.

Westminster Palace Hotel, Londok,

May 21, 1885.

Dear William, — Here it is, begun all over again
in the old fashion. The old hotel, the same dingy
outlook from the windows, and the same chimes from
the Abbey bells every quarter of an hour ! We
reached here yesterday afternoon at the end of our
fourth day on shore. The voyage was very swift,
pleasant, and uneventfid. The Etruria is a superb
ship, rather inclined to roll, when there seems to be no
reason for it, but going through the water at a tre-
mendous rate. . . . The only celebrity on board was
Mr. Froude, who kept very much to his stateroom and
was hardly seen. I am afraid the great historian was
ill. We landed on Sunday morning at Liverpool, and
I went to church, and saw and heard Bishop Ryle.
Monday we spent in Chester, and went out to the
Duke of Westminster's place, Eaton Hall, and also
to Mr. Gladstone's Hawarden Castle. Neither of the
great men was at home, but we looked at their houses.
. . . Then we came on to Leamington, and saw War-
wick Castle, Kenilworth, and Stratford-on-Avon, and
then here.

I saw Archdeacon Farrar yesterday afternoon, and
found him well. I am to dine with him on Saturday
to meet Browning and Lowell and Arnold, and the
new Bishop of London, Dr. Temple. I saw my god-
son, who is staying with his grandfather, in the absence

LONDON. 327

of his parents from London for a few days. He is a
round, fat, English baby.

Friday Morning, May 22.

Yesterday was a busy London day, and I did not
finish my letter. Now it shall go to tell you that I
am well and happy. Think of me on the 31st of May
at Oxford; on the 7th of June at Harrow in the
morning, and in Westminster Abbey in the evening ;
on the 14th of June at Cambridge. I will think
of you all getting ready for North Andover, and
by and by going there, and having, I hope, a lovely
summer. Already I am beginning to think how good
next summer will be when we are all there together,
and " Tom " has grown to his maturity, and the old
place has really come to look and feel as if it had be-
gun a new life for our generation. . . .

I have not heard from you yet, though I got two
letters forwarded by you and mailed the day we sailed.
Not a bit of excitement here, apparently, about war or
cholera, but both subjects qiiietly and very seriously
talked about. Good-by, and my best love to all of
you. May you be kept safe and happy.

Affectionately, P.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,

May 29, 1885.

Dear Gertie, — I received your note and Toodie's
early this week, and to-night comes your father's to
tell me that you were thinking of me as late as the
15th of May. I believe you are thinking of me still.
Certainly I am thinking of you, and hoping you are
all well and doing: all sorts of delightful things. It

328 ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

does not seem as if it could be only three weeks this
morning that I said good-by to you and took the train
for New York. But it is, and I have been in Lon-
don now more than a week. What have I done ?
Let me see. Last Sunday morning I preached at St.
Margaret's in the forenoon ; in the afternoon went to
St. Paul's Cathedral, and heard Canon Scott Holland.
. . . Monday we went to Windsor Castle, but it was
rainy, and besides that it was " Bank Holiday," so
there was a tremendous crowd, and we did not see
very much. Tuesday I went down to the Bishop of
Rochester's and spent the night, and it was very pleas-
ant. He has a great big house and park, and every-
thing very complete and pretty. It was a lovely day,
the hawthorns were just blooming, and the grass and
old trees were lovely. . . .

On Wednesday I went to a big dinner-party, and I
had a very good time. Thursday I went down to the
country and spent the day with some nice people who
live in an old manor house, in a place called Chig-
well. There is a school-house there where William
Penn used to go to school, before he founded Penn-
sylvania, and there are many other interesting things.
To-day we have had a long drive to Hampton Court,
Richmond, and Kew, and seen no end of queer and
delightful sights ; and now to-night I am writing to
you, so you see I am very busy. To-morrow I go to
Oxford, where I sj^end three days, seeing the univer-
sity and looking at all the great men. It has been
cold and bleak, but now the weather is getting bright
and warm, and the country is prettier than anything
you ever saw, except North Andover.

I have not seen Nora Buchanan, but I saw her mo-
ther, the other day. Nora had gone to school, and

LONDON. 329

was very well. I wonder when you are going to
North Andover. You must tell me when you write
again, so that I can think of your getting settled and
feel what a good time you are having. Remember
that the corn-barn belongs to you, and you must be
the mistress there. But do let S. and A. come in
when they want to. Give them my love, and also to
your father and mother. Do not forget that I am
Your affectionate uncle, P.

London, June 5, 1885.

Dear "William, — ... Saturday I went to Ox-
ford and stayed at the Vice-Chancellor's, Dr. Jow-
ett's. Other people were staying there, and it was
very bright and pleasant. On Sunday afternoon I
preached the university sermon in St. Mary's Church.
. . . The service was at two o'clock, an hour when I
think nobody ever went to church before. Four men
came to the Vice-Chancellor's house, and Dr. Jowett
and I fell in behind them, and they escorted us along
the street as far as the church. When we reached the
church, another man took us in charge and brought us
to the foot of the pulpit stairs, where the Vice-Chan-
cellor and I solemnly bowed to one another, and he
went up into his throne and I went up into the pulpit.
Then I preached. ... I spent the next two days in
Oxford, and had a lovely time, going to all sorts of
meetings, dining with the dons, seeing the men I
wanted most to see, being rowed on the river, and all
that. The weather was lovely ; you cannot think how
beautiful the place looked. . . .

Your brother, P.

330 ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
June 12, 1885.

Dear Gertie, — ... I have been running up
and down this big world of London and seeing a lot
of people, and every now and then going off into the
country, which is wonderfully pretty now, with haw-
thorn and lilacs and laburnums all in bloom.

Last Sunday I went out to Harrow, where there is
a great school, and there I preached to five hundred
boys. How A. would like to go there, would n't she ?
In the afternoon I came back into town, and preached
in Westminster Abbey to a host of people. The
great place looked splendid, and it was fine to preach
there. Yesterday I went twenty miles into the coun-
try, and preached at an ordination of forty new min-
isters. The fields were bright with daisies, and I won-
dered how North Andover was looking. You must
be just packing up to go there now. Even with all
the beauty of England, it makes me quite homesick
when I think about it. You must tell me all about
the removal there, and how you get settled, and how
your corn-barn looks, and what new things you find
to do in the old place ; and you must have it all ready
for me on September 12, when I mean to come up
early in the morning and spend the whole solid week
quietly there. That will be just three months from
to-day. . . .

I go to Cambridge for next Sunday, and then to
Oxford for Commemoration and my degree. Good-
by ; my best of love to all and you.

Affectionately, Uncle P.

LONDON. 331

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
June 18, 1885.

My dear Tood, — You certainly deserve a letter,
for your letters to me have been delightful and have
made me very happy. I am sorry you have given up
the poetry, because it was very interesting and amus-
ing. Perhaps now that the strain of school is over,
and you are among the sweet sights and sounds and
smells of North Andover, you will drop into verse
again. I shall be glad to hear you sing once more.
Write me a poem about " Tom."

I am having a beautiful time, and I wish you all were
here. If you were, I would get a big carriage this
morning, and we would all go driving about London
and out into Hyde Park, and perhaps far away into
the country. We would see the rhododendrons, which
are in full bloom now, and we would wish that the
grass on the lawn in North Andover could be made
to look half as soft and green as the grass on these
beautiful English fields.

I have just come back from Oxford. You should
have seen me yesterday walking about the streets in
my Doctor's gown. It was a red gown with black
sleeves, and is awfully jjretty. It was only hired for
the occasion, for it costs ever so much money, and I
did not care to buy one. So you will never see how
splendid I looked in it, for I shall never have it on
again. . . .

Affectionately your Uncle P.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
June 19, 1885.

Dear William, — I hope you are well and happy,
and I wish very much that I could see you all to-day.

332 ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

You must be safe at Andover long before this, and I
know how pretty it must be looking. I shall get a
bit of it at the end of the season. It seems to be
settled now that Archdeacon Farrar and his two
friends will come with me on the Pavonia, September
2. I hope we shall arrive in Boston on Saturday, the
12th. Then we shall spend Sunday in Boston at the
Brunswick. Monday I shall go with them as far as
the White Mountains on their way to Canada, and
then about Wednesday come back on the Boston &
Maine Railroad to Andover. How I wish you could
put off your vacation till then, and go with us to the
mountains, and have a leisure week at Andover after
our return. Think of it and try and do so. Tell
M. how delightful it will be if she can join us for
the mountains. We need stay there but a day or two,
visiting merely Crawford's and the Glen.

I have had a busy and delightful week. Saturday
afternoon I went to Cambridge, getting there just in
time for the boat races, which were very picturesque
and pretty. After that came a supper at Professor
Jebb's, with lots of dons and professors. Sunday I
spent at the Vice-Chancellor's, Dr. Ferrers' at the
Lodge in Caius College. At two o'clock I preached the
university sermon in Great St. Mary's to a big and
imposing congregation. It was the Tolerance lecture
which you heard in Cambridge, and it went off very
well. Monday I roamed about among the beautiful
colleges, lunched with an undergraduate, who had a
pleasant party, and went to a big dinner party at the
Jebbs'. Tuesday morning I went to Oxford, a slow
four hours' ride, took lunch at Dr. Jowett's with some
great university folks, and then went to the j)ublic
theatre, where we had our D. D. degrees conferred on

LONDON. 333

us with queer ceremonies. I send you some papers
which tell about it. The next day, Wednesday, was
the great Commemoration Day, with the conferring- of
the D. C. L. degrees, and a college luncheon and a
brilliant garden party in the afternoon. Then I came
back to London, and last night went to a dinner
given in honor of the Precentor of the Abbey. To-
night I dine with Mr. Bryce, whom you remember at
our Matthew Arnold dinner of last winter. So it aoes
all the time ; but after two weeks more it will be over.
On the 3d of July we go on to the Continent, and
life will be quieter, or at least it will have a differ-
ent sort of bustle.

... I have not been anywhere, except in London
and at the universities, during all this visit. The
papers tell us it is very hot with you. Plere it is cool
and pleasant. The crisis and change of government
of course keeps everything excited. Gladstone goes
out with honor, having saved the world a war. My
kind love to all.

Ever affectionately, P.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
June 25, 1885.

Dear Mary, — ... I love to think of you all at
North Andover, and to look forward to the time when
I shall be with you. The plan of which I wrote last
week has fallen through. Archdeacon Farrar and his
friends have made up their minds that they must sail
direct for Canada, and so I shall come alone in the
Pavonia, and the White Mountain trip will not take
place. I shall come to North Andover on Monday
morning, the 14th of September, and stay there
quietly as long as I can. Archdeacon Farrar's party
will not reach Boston mitil the first of November.

334 ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

Everytliing- here has been delightful. People have
been very kmd, and invitations flow in in far greater
numbers than I can accept. It has been very interest-
ing to be here during the political crisis and see the
English people change their government. Right in
the thick of it I met Mr. Gladstone at dinner at Mr.
Bryce's, and he was full of spirits and as merry as a
boy. Our new minister, Mr. Phelps, was there, and
Senator Edmimds, and it was very interesting to see
the Enoiish and American statesmen meet.

I was invited by Lord Aberdeen to go to his country
place and spend Smiday with Mr. Gladstone, but I
had promised to preach here and could not go. I was
very sorry, for it would have been a capital chance
to see the great man familiarly.

I am just back from Lincoln, where I have spent
the day and preached this afternoon in the magnificent
cathedral. On Saturday I go to Salisbury to stay
with the Dean, and preach in that cathedral on Sunday.
Monday I come back to town, and dine on Tuesday
with the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth Pal-
ace. Wednesday I start off to meet the Paines,
who have been absent for two weeks in Scotland, and
we shall travel together somewhere for a week ; then
back to London and off together to the Continent,
about the time you get this note.

We have had hardly any heat, and to-day is as cold
as March, but the country is looking glorious, and
the town is as gay as Marlborough Street in February.

What are you all doing ? And how does the old house
look with its green grass and yellow hitching-post ?
Is Tom still alive after his hard winter's experience ?
How I wish I coidd look in on you to-night. It is
most midnight here, but you are just about finishing

TINTERN. 335

supper and sitting down to logomachy. I have not
seen the blessed game since we played it in Clarendon
Street the night before I left. You must thank
Agnes and Susie for their last letters. The New
York trip must have been a great event. Yesterday I
thought about Commencement and wished I was there.
I hope Arthur was with you. Good-night. . . .

Ever and ever affectionately, P.

TiNTBRN, July 2, 1885.

Dear William, — A happy new year to you, and
a great many more of them for years to come. You
have had a good time for the last fifty-one years, and
I am sure you have helped other people (such as I)
to have a great many good times all along. Now you
are just in the prime of life, with ever so many happy
years before you, and I congratulate you on both past
and future, and send you the heartiest, haj^i^y new
year across the water.

One week more is gone, and now that I have heard
from you at North Andover, I feel as if I had really
got hold of your summer. The children's letters from
there made it seem very real and near. . . . The pony
seems to be a principal character in the household,
and I am rejoiced that Tom has recovered from the
trials and humiliations of the winter.

... I spent last Sunday at Salisbury, where I had
a delightful day and preached in the cathedral, which
is now thoroughly restored, and looks a great deal bet-
ter than it did when you and I saw it filled with
scaffolding. I stayed with the Dean, and saw some
very pleasant people. Then I came back to London,
and had two more days there, and on Wednesday
came off for this little western tour. When you get

336 ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

this the Channel will have been crossed and the jabher
of foreign tongues will be about us. The weather is
delightful and all goes charmingly, . . .

Bonn, July 11, 1885.

Dear Gertie, ^ — It is a very lovely morning on
the Rhine. I am afraid that it will be hot by and by,
when the steamboat comes along and we start to go up
the river ; but at present, before breakfast, it is very
lovely. There is a pretty village with trees and a
church tower just across the river, and the little boats
keep coming and going, and the children on the bank,
in front of the hotel, are playing like kittens, and
everything is as bright and sunshiny as if there was n't
such a thing as trouble in the world. Speaking of
kittens, I wonder if you have found the little thing
that used to liide away in the barn, and that the boy
could n't catch for a quarter of a dollar. But perhaps
she has grown to be a big cat, and is n't worth the
catching now, which is the way with a good many
people. When you want them you cannot get them,
and when you get them you don't want them.

A man has just come and set up a stand in the
square under my window to sell cherries, and the
children are looking at them hard, and no doubt wish-
ing that they had two cents. I would give them two
dollars apiece all aroimd if I could talk German as
well as they can. And so we all want something which
we have not got. I wonder what you want. If it 's
anything in Europe, write a letter and tell me the
name of it instantly, and I will get it for you. . . .

We left London on Thursday morning, and I shall
not see it again till the 1st of August, when I shall go
there to get my playthings together before I sail in

SALZBURG. 337

the Pavonia on the 3(1. I have had a very beautiful
time there, but now 1 am glad to be traveling again
and on my way to the great mountains. I wish you
were with me and were here this morning. I would
give you some cherries.

I long to see the pony. Next year I think we must
have one of our own, or would you like a donkey bet-
ter, for which G. B. advertised? We must consult
Tood about it. My best of love to you all and to
" Tom." Goodby. Your uncle, P.

Salzburg, July 15, 1885.

Dear William, — When I reached here yester-
day, I found a group of delightful letters from North
Andover, which had the flavor of the old place about
them. I think about you now as settled there, with
the Jack-o'-lanterns burning on the garden wall. . . .

I have left England after a most delightful visit.
It was full of interesting occurrences, and I shall look
back upon it with the greatest pleasure. Now we are
on our way southward, and after a drive through the
Tyrol, we shall probably bring up for a few days in
Venice ; then back to Switzerland, where we shall
have about three weeks. Seven weeks from this after-
noon I shall be afloat, headed for Queenstown and
Boston. All goes beautifully. The weather is delight-
ful, and the scenery, pictures, and cathedrals are the
same splendid things that they have been for the last
twenty years and many years before. Tell G. to keep
as right as she can till the 11th of September, and
after that I will look after her; and thank S. for
her account of the corn-barn banquet, which made my
mouth water very much indeed.

. . . The programme for the Church Congress in the

338 ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

autumn, which you inclosed in your letter, really
made one believe that there was to be a new campaign
begun by and by, but it seems very far off now.
Still, I think we will not carry out our little plan of
retiring from active life this autumn. Let us wait
another year. . . .

Ever affectionately, P.

Hotel Danieli, Venice,
July 24, 1885.

My deak Mary, — ... How pretty it must be
with you this afternoon ; not half as hot as Venice, I
am sure. But every now and then a breeze comes
floating from the water, and there are gondolas skim-
ming by, the beautiful St. Giorgio rises opposite out
of the sea, and the bells are lazily ringing for two
o'clock, which is the time when the pigeons come to
be fed in the Piazza of St. Mark. It is all very soft,
and lazy, and beautiful, and the letter which I re-
ceived the other day from Mr. Allen, about things at
Trinity, sounded far away. . . .

I wish you could see it all. The Queen is here, and
every evening the young prince comes out on the Grand
Canal, and hosts of gondolas are there with lamps and
lanterns. Every now and then a company of singers
in a gondola goes floating by, the fine band plays in the
Royal Gardens, the people shout, " Viva Kegina Mar-
gherita " under the royal windows, the ices of the cafes
are really most delicious, and San Marco looks down
upon it all in the moonlight and seems to smile. In
the mornings, there are great cool galleries full of glo-
rious pictures, and quiet back streets where the people
lounge in the doorways and chatter round the fountains.
Oh, it is very delightfid, and I wish with all my heart
that you all were here, so I do. . . .

WENGERN-ALP. 339

Bellagio, July 30, 1885.
My dear Gertie, — It is a beautiful warm morn-
ing on the lake of Como, so warm that one does not
feel like doing- anything but sitting still and writing a
lazy letter to a dear little girl in America. The water,
as I look out of the window, is a delicious blue, and
the sweet o-reen hiUs on the other side of the lake are
sound asleep in the sunlight, which they like. There
is a garden of palm-trees and oleanders right under
my window, and the oleanders are all in gorgeous
bloom. A boatman is waiting at the marble steps, in
case any one wants his boat ; but I think he hopes
that nobody will want it, for it must be awfully hot
rowing upon the lake. This afternoon, when it gets
cooler, I shall change all this and start up to the moun-
tains, and by to-morrow night I shall be at St. Moritz,
among the glaciers and snow-banks. But wherever I
am, I am thinking how very pleasant it must be in the
old house, and what a good time we will have when I
get back there six weeks from next Monday afternoon.
We will not make any plans for excursions, but just
stay quiet on the big piazza, and now and then, when
we feel very energetic, make a long trip to the corn-
barn. Everybody must come and see us ; we will not
go to see anybody. . . .

Your affectionate uncle, P.

Wengekn-Alp, August 12, 1885.
Dear William, — ... A letter from the Weng-
ern-Alp must go to you, for the view which is before me
as I write brings back most vividly the day we climbed
from Grindenwald, and sat and looked at the white
beauty for an hour before we scrambled down to Lauter-
brunnen and went on our way to Thun. I came up

340 ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

the same way yesterday afternoon, on a better horse
than I had the day I was with you, and reached here
just in time to see the evening- light. This morning
the simrise was delightful, and now, as I write, I can
see the glorious Jungf rau with its splendid snow ; and
the avalanches keep thundering all the time, and send-
ing up their clouds of icy dust. I wish you were here !

. . . What terribly hot days you must have had !
One of the great discoveries of the future will be
how to deal with the temperature of the world, and
cool a whole city as you cool a refrigerator, or warm a
continent as you warm a house.

It seems as if the Americans were at home this
summer, for I have seen hardly any. Dr. Osgood and
his family and Mrs. Copley Green and her children
were at Lucerne, and I went to see them at the Eng-
lisher Hof , after service at that English church where
we went, you remember, one Sunday in 1877. Three
weeks from to-day I sail ; then, in ten days, I shall see
you all. Affectionately, P.

Chamotjntx, August 19, 1885.
Dear Gertie, — Mont Blanc has put his head
under a cloud, and there is nothing to be seen outside
except a lot of guides and porters waiting for the
diligence to come from Geneva. So before the dinner
bell rings, I will send off my week's letter, and it shall
be to you. Tell Tood that the next week's, which will
be the last that I shall write, shall be to her, for she
has been a good little girl and written me beautiful
letters all summer. So have you. I got your letter
here last night with the picture of the bird house in
the garden on the side of the paper. After you get
this letter, remember that you are not to do a single

PARIS. 341

thing exciting until I get home, so that you will be all
fresh and strong to play with nie. . . . Only two
weeks from to-day ! Just think of it ! Two weeks
from now the beautiful Pavonia will be steaming
away down the Channel, bound for North Andover,
and three weeks from next Sunday I shall stand up in
Trinity again.

You cannot think how splendid the great mountain
was last night. The sky was perfectly clear and the
moon was glorious, and the big round dome of snow
shone like another world. The people stood and gazed
at it and looked solemn. This morning it had
changed, but was no less beautiful. It was like a
great mass of silver. And so it stands there and
changes from one sort of beauty to another, year after
year, and age after age.

I think you must have a beautiful time this sum-
mer with the pony, and next year we must try
to have one of our own. Make up your mind what
kind and color he shall be, and we will look about and
see what we can find when I get home. It must be
a great sight to see Tood driving all by her blessed
self, and all the fast horses on the road getting out of
the way for fear she will run over them. . . . Perhaps
you and she can drive me out to Cambridge, mornings
in November, in the pony-cart. I wonder if I shall
go there this year, and whether you will go with me.
Good-by now. Affectionately, your uncle, P.

Grand Hotel, Paris, August 27, 1885.

My dear Tood, — It really begins to look as if I

were actually coming home, for you see the Pavonia

arrived yesterday at Liverpool, and she will stay there

until next Wednesday, and then she expects me to go

342 ENGLAND AND EUROPE.

back in her. It seems very likely, therefore, that two
weeks from day after to-morrow, I shall come ashore in
Boston ; then I shall see you and have the chance to
thank you for all your pleasant letters, which it has
been a very great delight to get, and which have very
much relieved the weariness and troubles of my
journey. I think that you are one of the very best
letter writers for your time of life that I know, and
when you drop into poetry it is beautiful. So I will
thank you when I get home, and we will sit in the
shadow of the corn-barn and talk it all over.

Paris is very bright and gay and pretty. Yester-
day I went out to the Jardin d'Acclimatation (say that
if you can), and the monkeys were awfully funny.
How would it do to get three monkeys for North
Andover, and tie them to a post in the side yard and
see them play and fight ? How would Tom like it ?
And do you think it would please Johnny, or would
he only think they were some more Brooks children ?
I am afraid you have not seen much of Johnny this
year. That is not wise. For he is a very brilliant
little boy, and it would be a great advantage to you
and A. if you talked with him. . . .

Your affectionate uncle, P.

ACROSS THE CONTINENT TO SAN
FRANCISCO.

188G.

Victoria Hotel, Alamosa, Colokado,

May 6, 1880.

Dear William, — This is the first letter of the
great journey, written in the midst o£ the tumult
of Raymond tourists and cow-boys, who fill the office
of this beautifid hotel, while we are waiting- for our
dinner. We are on the crest of the continent, a good
six thousand feet above the sea, with Pike's Peak and
a host of other snow-peaked giants of the Rocky
Mountains in full view, and the queerest shanty-town
to stay in that you ever saw. But what a day it is !
Such atmosphere, sunshine, and great outlooks in
every direction ! To-day we have been up to the
Toltec Gorge, riding through endless plains of sage
grass, with queer little prairie dogs sitting, each of
them, on the edge of his hole to see us pass. The
Gorge is very fine and picturesque, not up to Switzer-
land, but with a bigger feeling about it, and altogether
mighty good to look at.

... A very pleasant journey brought me to Chicago
Saturday night in the director's car, with the Baker
party, who were pleasant people. Sunday I heard
Professor Swing in the morning, Osborn in the after'
noon, and a man whose name I have forgotten in the
evening. I wonder how things went at Trinity ?

Then came the ride to Kansas City, crossing the big

344 ACROSS THE CONTINENT.

Mississippi at Rock Island and Davenport. Then there
was the very beautifnl ride across Kansas, and here
we are in Colorado, with New JNIexico close by. All
has gone well. The excursion plan works nicely. The
company is pleasant. The days are long and idle.
There is a great deal to see, and impressions crowd
fast and thick. On the whole it is a good success so
far, and better things are promising ahead. It is not
Europe, but it is big America, and one is feeling its
bigness more and more every day. . . .

We must be all in the best condition for Andover
by and by. I am looking forward to that.

Affectionately, P.

Palace Hotel, Santa Fe, May 9, 1886.

Dear Gertie, — It is very hot here, and the sun is
shining down upon my window dreadfully. But the
things one sees out of the window are very queer and
interesting. The houses are built of mud, and ahnost
all of them only one story high. Indians and Mexi-
cans, in bright red and white blankets, walk down the
street. Funny little donkeys are wandering about,
with small children riding on their backs and kickino-
them with their small naked heels. There are some
barracks across the street with a flag flying, and a few
soldiers lomiging in the shade. Up the street there
is a great cathedral, whose bells are ringing for some
service. We are over seven thousand feet above the
sea, and the air is so dry that you are always thirsty
and cannot get enough ice water.

How I should love to take a Back Bay car and come
down to one of those lovely five o'clock teas, and drink,
and drink, and drink lemonade for three quarters of
an hour. . . .

NEAR LOS ANGELES. 345

To-morrow we start across the Desert to California,
and when you get this I shall be at Los Angeles, which
everybody says is just as beautiful as Paradise. How
I wish you would take a swift car and join me there.
We would eat oranges, and figs, and grapes, and apri-
cots, and all the good things that make your mouth
water when you think of them.

... I wonder how far your letter to me has got.
About to Kansas City, I should think. Give my best
love to everybody, and be sure I am your

Affectionate uncle, P.

Sierra Madre Villa, near Los Angeles, California,

May 14, 1886.

My dear William, — I wish you could see how
beautiful this place is. It is not exactly like any-
thing I ever saw before, though there is something of
Italy, and something of India, and something of Syria
about it. It is a world of vines and oranges, with
palm-trees here and there, the high hills and a few
white peaks of the Sierra Nevada standing up behind.
The flowers are gorgeous ; masses of roses and hedges
of calla lilies all in bloom, honeysuckles and helio-
tropes growing up like the sides of houses. It is as
good a fairy-land as one can find anywhere in this
poor world.

The way here over the Desert was dreary enough,
but very picturesque and striking, and the descent of
the long Pacific slope was very beautiful, with countless
flowers and all sorts of strange shapes of hill and valley.

The great continent is crossed, and though we have
not yet seen the Pacific, we are within a few miles of it,
and shall get sight of it to-morrow when we go to
Santa Monica, which is directly on the coast. The

346 ACROSS THE CONTINENT.

journey has gone bravely on, with no mishap. The
" excursion " part of it is a decided success. It has
reminded me always of an ocean voyage. The excur-
sionists are like your fellow-passengers, — you get
familiar with their faces, and learn to greet them in
the morning. With a few of them you become ac-
quainted, but you are mider no responsibility regard-
ing them, and make your own companionships just as
you please. The comfort of it is delightful. There
are no plans to make, no money to j)ay out, and no
time-tables to be studied. Nothing but a little book
to go by, and a man to tell you what to do. By all
means, when you come to California be a Raymond
Excursionist. . . .

YosEMiTE Valley, May 20, 1886.

My dear Mart, — There never were such preci-
pices and waterfalls, and so I am going to write you a
letter. You see, it takes a two days' drive to get here ;
the roads are terribly rough, and when you come sud-
denly to Inspiration Point and look down into this
glorious place, ringing with cataracts that come tum-
bling over the brink, and with a plunge of ten Nia-
garas burst into clouds of spray, it is like looking into
a big green heaven inclosed with the most stupendous
cliffs, so that the blessed cannot get out, nor the
wicked get in. After you get here it is very won-
derful. One cannot describe it any more than one can
paint it. There is nothing like it in the world, and if
it were not so many thousand miles away, we would
come here from North Andover once every summer.
But it is a marvel that one can only get once in a life-
time. You can see a bit of a picture of it in the corner.

I am writing this beautiful letter at the right-hand

YOSEMITE VALLEY. 347

side of the piazza, where the mosquitoes ai'e very
troublesome. To-day I have ridden an unfortunate
horse up a four-mile hill, and seen another world of
waterfalls and hills. I will describe them to you when
I get home. The whole journey has been very funny
and pleasant. There are people and places all along-
the road, at Chicago, Kansas City, Alamosa, Santa
Fe, and Los Angeles, which I never shall forget. If
you could only see the place where we spent last Sun-
day ! The oranges made the whole landscaj^e glow,
and the roses and heliotropes made it fragrant. To-
morrow I start for San Francisco. Think of us on
Sunday after next. May 30, at Monterey, and probably
the first Sunday in June at Portland, Oregon. Have
you heard they have chosen me Assistant Bishop of
Pennsylvania ? . . . Would it not be strange to go
there again and end my ministry where I began it ?
But then it would interfere with our plan of retiring
to North Andover in a few years, which is what I am
most lonoino- for and looking forward to in life. . . .
Just now a carriage-load of Raymond people, fel-
low-travelers of ours, went by. You have no idea how
friendly and familiar we are with them all. There
are men of letters and men of business, and women of
all sorts and kinds. Some of them talk good English,
some talk bad, and some talk what can hardly be called
English at all. Some of them grumble, some of them
smile, and some of them look too stupid to do either.
The way they make up to each other, and have grown
to be like brothers and sisters, is delightful. They
are more or less scattered now, but they will come to-
gether again at the Palace Hotel at San Francisco on
Saturday night, and then until we go, some of us, to
Oregon, the company will see much of one another.

348 ACROSS THE CONTINENT.

There is the queerest primitiveness of life in this
blessed valley. Your landlord talks to you like a
brother. He asked me just now if I was the father of
a Mr. Brooks who was here ten years ago. . . . Then
he appealed to us this morning to be prompt at break-
fast, because his wife had been working over the stove
ever since three o'clock (when the first stage went
off), and was almost dead. So one finds himseK part
of the family, and the cares of the house are his. Yet,
if it were Boston, I would leave it and come to Marl-
borough Street and get some lemonade. I wonder
what you all are doing and how you are.

. . . Here comes another stage with a tired-looking
party of Raymondites, who have been to see the after-
noon rainbow on the Bridal Veil. Then a wild Mexi-
can galloping by on his mustang, to show off before
us who sit on the piazza. It is all very nice, but by
and by it will be over and then

I hope you will be glad to see

Your very loving brother, P.

Palace Hotel, San Fkancisco, California,

May 27, 1886.

My dear Gertie, — What a good time we shall
have this summer ! . . . I will tell you all about the
Pacific Ocean, and how fine it is to stand on the
rocks and look way off to China. There is a
great deal of China here. The other night I went to
a Chinese theatre, and the way they howled, and
grinned, and cut up on the stage was something won-
derful. Their play goes on for a month, being taken
up each evening where they happened to leave off the
night before, so you hit it at one point, and it is very
hard to make out what the story is. Besides, it is in

MONTEREY. 349

Clilncso. There is no scenery, and the spectators
(those that pay half a dollar) sit right on the stage
and go through the dressing-room. The quarter of a
dollar people sit in front of the stage, just as our
audiences do. It was very confused, picturesque, and
funny. Next week I am going up to Oregon, and shall
be somewhere there when you get this letter. I wonder
what that country is like. It always sounds as if people
went about in furs and talked Ojibway to each other,
but I dare say they do not. However, I shall see next
week, and then can tell you. We shall sail through
the Golden Gate, and have a lovely voyage up the
coast to Portland, in a beautifvd steamer. How I
wish you would come, too. . . .

Hotel del Monte, Monterey, Calieornlv,
June 1, 1886.

I have written from such various places the last
month, I fear my letters have been rather irregular in
reaching you. I have written to somebody at your
house every week. I have heard also most irregularly
from you, but I have had several letters from yourself,
and your father and mother, for all of which I am very
thankful. They have been very good to get. ... I
am longing now to be quietly settled at the old place.
Not that this trip is not delightful. Everything has
gone perfectly, and much of the best is yet to come.
We are spending a few days at this beautiful place, and
to-morrow go back to San Francisco, stopping on the
way to see the Floods at their famous palatial place
at Menlo Park. I have already had five days at San
Francisco, which were very interesting. . . .

Thursday I go alone by steamer to Portland, Ore-
gon, and shall rejoin the party ten days later at Salt

350 ACROSS THE CONTINENT.

Lake. The sea, on whicli we spend forty-eight hours,
is a terror to most of the people, but I expect to enjoy
it very much, and shall be glad to get sight of Puget's
Sound and Vancouver's Island. The June days there
will be delightful. Oh, if you could only be with
me. . . . My next great delight is being with you all
at Andover. My best love to everybody.

Affectionately, P.

Victoria, Vancouver's Island, Pdget Sound,
June 8, 1886.

My dear Mary, — I hope this Puget Sound sounds
as far from Boston to you as it does to me. It has
taken a long time to get here, and is my farthest
point from home upon this journey. From this after-
noon every step is homeward. Already the boat is
lying at the wharf and I am writing in the cabin, while
there is a racket going on, of the men who are bringing
freight on board, and in a few minutes we shall sail
for Tacoma and Portland. Lunch is ready on the
table, or at least the preparations for lunch, but we
must not have any imtil the steamer gets away. And
I am very hungry, for I have been on a long drive
over the country for the last three hours, trying to find
out what this bit of Her Majesty's dominions may be
like.

I wish you and G. had been with me, for the drive
was beautiful, and led to a dry dock at a queer little
village, where one of the Queen's men-of-war was
lying, looking very picturesque. The town itself is a
big rambling jjlace, with a pretty j^ark outside, which
they call Beacon Hill, just as if it were in Boston.

The streets have queer folks, Indians and Chinamen,
strolling about, which makes them interesting. There

VICTORIA. 351

was a curious little Chinese girl, with a long pigtail,
who came with us in this boat in charge of an officer
who was taking her back to Victoria. She had been
stolen from China, brought out to British America,
thence smuggled to our dominions, and there a China
man had made her marry him, and he was going to
sell her again in San Francisco, when the law came to
her rescue, and she was going back in great glee, leav-
ing her husband behind her. She was not far from
being pretty, and was certainly a very cunning-looking
little thing, only fifteen years old, with flowers in her
hand and the most comical and clumsy dress you ever
saw. We left her at Victoria, and there seems now
to be nobody of any interest (here the boat started
which accounts for the joggling) except a horrid lit-
tle boy, who looks out of the window and asks silly
questions, for which his mother scolds him. His ques-
tions are very silly, but she need not scold him so, for
he evidently gets his silliness by direct inheritance
from her. I had a beautiful luncheon, rice, sahnon,
lamb chops, baked beans, and cherry-pie. There is
nobody on the boat that I know. Coming up, there
was a man from Jamaica Plain, but he left at Seattle,
and I saw him no more.

The Sound is very beautiful, with its woody shores
and snowy peaks beyond. Mt. Baker at this end and
Mt. Tacoma at the other are majestic creatures, quite
worthy to keep company with the Alps or Himalayas.
I hate to turn back and leave Alaska unseen. That
must be gorgeous, and it is so easy to go there from
here ! . . .

When I get back I will go to town Sundays, and the
long weeks between, we will spend in the old house
and have a lovely time.

352 ACROSS THE CONTINENT.

I hope that you are all well and happy as I am, and
as anxious to see me as I am to see you.

Ever affectionately, P.

Manitou Spkings, Colorado,
June n, 1886.

My dear Agnes, — You wrote me such a very
nice and interesting letter, which I received the other
day when I was among the Mormons, that I must
acknowledge it by sending this week's letter to you.
It is my only chance, for before next week's letter
is written I shall be rushing across Kansas and Mis-
souri on the way home, and should overtake my letter
if I wrote one. So this shall be the last. . . .

I wish I could look in upon you at North An-
dover this morning, though this place is very pretty,
the top of Pike's Peak very high, and the waterfalls
are very noisy : so are the visitors, for it is a real
summer place, like a White Mountain hotel. It
would be pleasant, instead of breakfasting in a few
minutes in the room next to this, to come into your
dining-room and eat a great deal better breakfast
than we shall get here. Well, it will come in two
weeks.

I shall get to Boston Saturday morning. Then I
must spend Sunday there. I have a meeting to which
I shall go on Monday evening, so I may not get to An-
dover till Tuesday, and must come down again for
Commencement on Wednesday and Thursday. That
week will be a good deal broken up ; but after that
is over, I shall live at the old house all the time.

This is Bunker Hill day, is n't it? Little those
people knew about Pike's Peak and Salt Lake City !

DENVER. 353

You must give my love to everybody, and some day
write another letter to your

Affectionate uncle, Phillips.

Denver, June 20, 1886.

Deak Tood, — When I got here last night, I
found the hotel man very much excited and running
about waving a beautiful letter in the air, and crying
aloud, " A letter from Tood ! A letter from Tood ! "
He was just going to get out a band of music to
march around the town and look for the man to whom
the letter belonged, when I stepped up and told him I
thought that it was meant for me. He made me show
him my name in my hat before he would give it to
me, and then a great crowd gathered round and lis-
tened while I read it. It was such a beautiful letter
that they all gave three cheers, and I thought I must
write you an answer at once, although I told A.,
when I wrote to her the other day, that I should not
write to anybody else before my coming home.

Your letter is very largely about Johnny. My
dear Tood, you must not let his going away depress
you too much. I know you like him, and that he has
been very good to you ; but such separations have to
come, and you will no doubt see some other young-
man some day that you will like just as much. You
do not think so now, but you will, and he no doubt
feels very bad at going, so you must be as cheerful
as you can and make it as easy as possible for him.
Remember !

I am on my way home now, and next Saturday will
see me back again in Clarendon Street. All the dear
little Chinese, with their pigtails, and the dreadfid
great Mormons, with their hundred wives, and the don-

354 ACROSS THE CONTINENT.

keys and the buffaloes and the Red Indians will be far
away, and I shall see you all again. I am impatient
for that, for the people out West are not as good as
you are. I am going to preach to them this morn-
ing, to try and make them better, and it is quite time
now to go to church. . . .

Your affectionate uncle, P.

A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

1889.

Walkek Hotel, Salt Lake City,
June 18, 1889.

Dear William, — This is the first letter of the
great new series. It will not amount to much, but
will let you know that we have come thus far without
accident, discomfort, or delay, and are spending Sun-
day among the Mormons. The day is bright and
warm, and we shaU sit with content this afternoon in
the great Tabernacle, and see tlie queer people go
through their queer worship. In the cool of the even-
ing we shall leave for Ogden, and sleep in the hurry-
ing car which carries us to San Francisco, where we
shall arrive at noon on Wednesday.

Everything here looks just as it did three years ago.
The great Temple has grown, but is many years from
its completion, and the Mormons and Gentiles who
fill the streets are the same lank and loungy crowd.
I do not want to live here, and do not see any danger
that I shall have to. . . . We saw the mighty scenery
of the Denver and Rio Grande, gazed at Pike's Peak,
rushed through the Grand Caiion of the Arkansas,
and reached here in time for a drive and a bed last
night. . . . The heat has not been troublesome, and
Japan does not seem to have such a sultry climate,
after all. . . .

All begins well. May everything go well with you

356 A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

until we meet again. My love to all, and tell them I
am in North Andover in heart to-day.

Palace Hotel, San Francisco,
June 20, 1889.

Deae William, — At last the great day has come,
and we sail this afternoon in the City of Sidney. We
have been to see her, and find she is a fine big vessel
of three thousand five hmidred tons, with large state-
rooms on the upper deck, of which we have one apiece.
There is only one other passenger besides us. We
have not seen him yet, but he is said to be a Rus-
sian, and is the United States Commissioner for
Alaska. W& shall know him well before we get to
Yokohama. The captain, first officer, and steward
seem to be good fellows, and there is every prospect
of a i^leasant voyage. Everybody says that it is cool
and smooth, and I do not think we shall find it too
long. We have laid in some books, and there are
big decks for walkee-walkee when we feel the need of
exercise.

We shall hope to sail back by the City of Rio de
Janeiro, leaving Yokohama on the 21st of August,
due in San Francisco about the 5th of September. I
hope this will bring me back to Massachusetts in time
to get two solid quiet weeks at North Andover before
the time to go to New York for General Convention.
That will be good, will it not ? . . . Thanks for your
letter and your telegram. How often I shall think of
you on the long voyage. My kindest love to all of
you, and may we be taken care of until we meet in
September. Farewell, farewell!

Affectionately, P.

STEAMSHIP CITY OF SIDNEY. 35T

Steamship City of Sidney,
July 8, 1889.

My dear Gertie, — You shall have the first letter
from the other side of the world. We have crossed
the Pacific and are within a hundred miles of Yoko-
hama. We shall arrive at midnight, and to-morrow
a steamer leaves there for San Francisco, which will
carry homewards this letter. It is our eighteenth day
at sea, and we are more than seven thousand miles
from North Andover, — think of that !

It has been a good voyage, though the weather
has not been bright. It has been cold and rainy till
yesterday, but there has been no storm and not much
rough weather. To-day is loveliness itseH, but we
are still wearing thick clothes, and the big ulster has
done service most of the voyage. There has been
almost no sitting on deck. We have read a great
many novels, and looked for the sunlight, which we
have hardly seen.

Besides Dr. McVickar and me, there have been two
passengers and a half. First, a queer old Russian
gentleman, bound for Kamchatka and the islands
where the seals are found ; a strange old creature,
who has been all over creation, and seen everything
and everybody, and is quite interesting. Besides him,
there is a missionary lady and her baby, going back
to Japan, but she has kept her stateroom most all
the way, and we have hardly seen her. So we three
men, with the ship's officers, have had the great
steamer to ourselves. She is not like the Adriatic or
Germanic, but she is a fine large ship and very com-
fortable. Plenty of room, plenty to eat, and every-
body well all the time.

. . . The Kodak came out this morning for the first

358 A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

time, and took the ship and the captain. There has
been no sun for it before. . . .

Think of us seeing- Fujiyama to-morrow.

Your affectionate uncle, P.

Tokyo, July 14, 1889.

Arthur Dear, — Shall I tell you what Japan
looks like to one on the sixth day after his arrival ?
I could not begin to do it if I tried, but of all bright,
merry, pretty places, it is the prettiest and brightest,
and if ever life anywhere is a frolic and a joke, it
must be here. I do not think there can be a grim
spot in all the happy islands. It is all so different
from India. If India is a perpetual dream, some-
times deepening into a nightmare, Japan is a per-
petual spectacle, now and then blazing into a mild
orgie. I do not think there can be a place anywhere
in the world more suitable for pure relaxation. It is
just the country for a smnmer vacation, and the get-
ting here is delightful.

After we left you that morning in New York, five
weeks ago next Tuesday, we had a prosperous journey
across the continent ; and after two days in San Fran-
cisco, sailed across the Pacific, a long, wet, placid
voyage of eighteen days, and landed at Yokohama
with minds well emptied, rested, and ready for what-
ever might be poured in. The people looked so glad
to see us. The jinrikisha men did not quarrel with
our bulk ; the foreign residents were kind and hospi-
table. In Yokohama I dined with a classmate of
yours, John Lindsley by name, who is the agent of
the Canadian Pacific, and has a beautiful house and
pretty wife. Yesterday we came on hither, where
to-day, in addition to thousands of heathen, I have

TOKYO. 359

seen Bishop Williams and many of the missionary
people and arrangements of onr church. It all looks
very well, and the best of the foreigners tell good
stories about missionary life and influence.

So Japan is a true success as the field for a summer
journey. The weather so far is delightful, and the
ffreat Buddha at Kamakura is wonderful indeed.

I hope your summer is going delightfully. I am
sure it is. My best love to Lizzie. . . .

Affectionately, P.

Tokyo, Jidy 14, 1889.

Dear William, — This is the sixth day in Japan,
and all goes wonderfully well. In a few days the
steamer starts for San Francisco, and a word of greet-
ing shall go in her to tell you that we landed safely
from the City of Sidney last Tuesday morning, and
since then have lived in Yokohama until yesterday.

We came here, and are now in the very heart of Jap-
anese history and life. It is very fascinating. The
brightest, merriest, kindest, and most graceful people,
who seem as glad to see you as if they had been wait-
ing for you all these years, smile upon you in the
streets, and make you feel as if their houses were yours
the moment you cross the threshold. They drag you
round in their absurd jinrikishas as if it were a jolly
joke, and are sitting now by the score along the road
outside the window in all degrees of undress and all
the colors of the rainbow, chattering away, making-
pretty gestures, as if good manners and civility were
the only ends of life. I never saw anything like it,
and the fascination grows with every new street pic-
ture that one sees.

The weather is delightful : mornings and evenings

360 A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

are very cool and pleasant ; the noonday is hot, but
not too hot to go about ; and every now and then tre-
mendous downfalls of rain. Wednesday it rained as
I hardly ever saw it rain before, and you would have
laughed to see our experiences on Thursday, when we
went into the country to see the great bronze Buddha,
sixty feet high, who has sat for six hundred years in a
great grove of pine-trees twenty miles from Yokohama.
The railroad had been swept away by the rain, and we
had to take to jinrikishas. The road was overflowed,
and we had to get into boats and be ferried over the
submerged rice-fields. Finally, I found myself on a
coolie's back, being carried over a little torrent, which
the jinrikisha could not cross. The coolie never will
forget it any more than I shall ; but we saw the Dai-
batzu, which is the gigantic Buddha's name. And I
snapped the Kodak into his very face.

We have had most hospitable welcome from Ameri-
can and English people ; almost every night in Yoko-
hama we dined out, and here we have been given rooms
at the club, which is a Government affair and most
comfortable. To-morrow night we are to dine with
the English Bishop of Japan, and there is more of
courtesy and kindness than we can accept.

We shall have warmer weather, for everybody says
the siunmer has not fairly begun. It will not be
excessive. Indeed, the whole climate is not unlike the
summer climate of New York.

To-day we have been looking a little at our foreign
missionary work, and find it a very real thing, full of
interest and promise.

Five weeks ago to-night I spent the evening in Marl-
borough Street. If you meet Dr. George Ellis, as we
did that evening on Commonwealth Avenue, tell him

NIKKO. 361

Japan is a great success ; and with all love to M. and
the children, be sure that I am

Affectionately, P.

NiKKO, July 21, 1889.

My dear Mary, — You remember the Japanese
have a proverb which declares that " he who has not
seen Nikko has no right to say Kekko." Kekko means
beautiful. You may have seen Keswick, Heidelberg,
Venice, Boston, North Andover, and Hingham, but if
you have not seen Nikko, the Jap does not believe
you know what beauty is. I do not think he is quite
right, but Nikko is certainly very beautiful.

We came up here from Tokyo on Friday, with three
hours of railroad, to Utsunomiya, and then six hours of
jolting over the worst of roads, all washed with recent
rains, with long stops to rest the wretched horses at
queer tea houses by the way. A most beautiful ave-
nue of stately trees extends along the whole route, and
we came into the sacred valley far up among the hills.
Here are the most splendid temples in Japan. They
are the great shrines of the heroes of the proud days
of Japanese history. Their solemn bells are always
sounding, and the richness of their decoration, the
mystery of their vast courtyards, and the strange fig-
ures of their priests are most impressive. In Tokyo
there is much of new Japan. We saw the university,
the missionary operations, and the electric lights.
Here it is all mediaeval, and the works of man are as
venerable as the hills. It is intensely interesting.

The jinrikisha men finally rebelled at Utsunomiya,
and would not bring us over the washed and gullied
road. One could not blame them, but it was incon-
venient, for we had to take the roughest of carriages,

362 A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

and the horses woukl not have been allowed to be
harnessed by any society for the prevention of cruelty
to beasts.

Our traveling for these ten days in Japan has been
a beautiful frolic. We have a capital guide and ser-
vant, a merry little fellow named Hakodate, who talks
queer English, does everything that one mortal man
can do for two others under his charge, and makes us
very comfortable. He is the best guide, I suppose, in
the country, has traveled with all sorts of distinguished
people, and is perpetually proud of the size of the party
at present in his care. If you come across a little
French book called " Notes d'un Globe-Trotter, " by a
Mr. Daudiffret, you will find much about Hakodate
under the name of Tatzu. Tatzu is his real name, but
for some unknown reason he goes under the name of
the town in the north of Japan from which he comes.
That same French book is a very amusing account of
much of what we are seeing every day in this delight-
ful land.

. . . This Sunday morning is Sunday evening with
you. I am just going to preach at a service in one
of the houses here. You are sitting on the piazza. I
wish I could spend the evening with you, and yet these
hills are lovely, and so far the climate has been perfect.
There has been no excessive heat. Now and then a
bit of an earthquake, they say, but they are so little
that there is no excitement.

It seems as if there were all pleasant things, until
we meet in mid-September. Till then may we all be
safe and well. My love to all.

Affectionately, P.

NIKKO. 363

NiKKO, Japan, July 22, 1889.

Dear Johnnie, — I wonder if it rains this morning
at Mai"ion as it rains at Nikko. The bells of the Bud-
dhist temples sound through the thick mist, and the
mountains hide themselves under the clouds, and we
can see nothing of what everybody says is the most
beautiful place in Japan. Before it clears I will talkee-
talkee a little with you. After I left you, Hattie, Dodo,
and baby at Springfield, I reached New York safely,
and the next morning the great trip really began.
We went on, and on, and at last, on the morning of
the 8th of July, set foot on the land of the Rising Sun
at Yokohama. The little Japs were very glad to see
us. They brought their little jinrikishas down to the
wharf, and pulled us through their little streets, past
their little houses, to the big hotel. Ever since that
they have been as good, civil, and delightful as possible.
They are the merriest folk alive. Everybody smiles
all the time. They smile when you speak to them
and when you do not, when you stop and when you pass
by, when they understand you and when they do not.
They meet you with a smile at the steps of their little
toy tea houses, and though they expect you to take off
your shoes and enter in your stocking feet, that you
may not hurt their pretty mats, and you have to sit
upon the floor in most uncomfortable attitudes, still
they are so glad to see you, and hand you the chop-
sticks, with which you are to eat jowv rice, in such a
winning way, that you would not offend one of their
inconvenient little prejudices for all the world.

The missionaries are good people and are doing ex-
cellent work. We spent one Sunday in Tokyo, and
saw Bishop Williams and the mission buildings and one
of the girls' schools. Most of the schools are in vaca-

364 A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

tion for the summer, and many of tlie missionaries
are here in this mountain place of cool resort. We
held service yesterday in the house of one of them,
which belongs to a Buddhist priest, and has the temple
itself in the side yard. The priest looked at us as we
went to church, hut did not come into our meeting.
If he had, he might have heard me preach in the morn-
ing and McVickar in the afternoon. Here, also, is
your classmate Sturgis Bigelow, who with Mr. Fenol-
losa of '74, and Mrs. FenoUosa, has been living in
Japan for years. They know the whole thing thor-
oughly, and since I began this beautiful letter (about
the middle of the third page) we went with them and
spent three hours in the Shinto temple of the great
lyeasu which is the most beautiful thing you ever saw.
We are going to dine with them to-night.

About the time you get this, the 21st of August, we
shall sail from Yokohama for San Francisco in the City
of Rio de Janeiro, and about the middle of Sej)tember
I shall be in North Andover. Come and see me there,
and tell me abovit your summer, and I will tell you
all about mine, which is as jolly and queer as anything.

My love to the babies and Hattie.

Ever affectionately, P.

Myanoshita, Japan, July 28, 1889.
Dear William, — I will put into this letter a
photograph of this pretty place, where we are spend-
ing a delightful Sunday. It is far up among the
hills, and is Swiss-looking in its general mountain as-
pect. Thursday we left Nikko, after five days among
its marvels, only made less perfect than they might
have been by rather too much rain. But they were
full of interest. Then we came back over a horrible

MYANOSHITA. 365

road to Utsonomiya and by rail to Yokohama. Friday
we took rail to Odza, then carriage and jinrikisha to
this i3lace. Yesterday we went to Hakoni lake and
saw most finely Fujiyama, the great mountain of
Japan.

The whole way was full of interest, through vil-
lages, past temples, and by one mighty Buddha carved
out of solid rock, sitting by the roadside. To-morrow
we go to Nagaia, then to Kioto, Nara, Osaka, Kobe,
and by the Inland Sea to Nagasaki, whence we return
to Yokohama to take the City of Rio home the 21st
of August. She brought to us this week your letters
of the 2d of July. . . . All this list of places can give you
no idea of the perpetual interest of this strange land.
The Kodak keeps snapping all the time, and I hope
is getting some pictures which will be interesting.
Every person in the street, every group upon the
country road, every shop, and house, and tea house,
a;nd temple is as queer or beautiful as possible, and
the people are delighted when you tell them to stand
out in the sunshine to have their portraits taken.

Hakodate proves a jewel of a guide, and while he
looks out ludicrously for his own comfort, is very
careful also for ours, and orders the good native
Japanese about as if he were a prince. We have not
suffered from the heat more than we should have done
on an ordinary White Mountain journey, and though
the hottest part is yet to come, I have no fear that it
will be excessive. The rains have bothered us a little,
but on the other hand have kept the country very
fresh and green, and the luxuriance is something won-
derful. Rice fields are sheets of emerald and the
bamboo groves are like fairy temples. The lotus is
breaking into flower, and the low swamps are gor-

366 A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

geous with its great leaves and splendid flowers.
Just now the talk is of the new Constitution of Japan,
which goes into operation next winter, and will make
the country as modern in its government as the United
States itself. What will become of the Buddhist
temples f\nd the picturesque dresses, nobody can tell.
Already young Japan affects skepticism and trousers,
but the missionaries will have to set all that right.
They are doing good work and have the respect of all
true men here.

So much for Japan, though one might write about
it forever. My thoughts rmi all the time to North
Andover. You are about going to bed as we sit here
writing and waiting for tiffin, which is served about
one o'clock. I hope there is as cool a breeze blowing
across the piazza as that which blows through this
open hall, but I am sure that no such little Japanese
waiting-maid, in kimono and obi, sits squatting on her
bare heels in the corner. North Andover is best in
the long run. My loveliest love to all.

Affectionately, P.

Kobe, Japan, August 7, 1889.
Dear William, — We are here at Kobe after a
most delightful journey from Myanoshita, from which
place I wrote you last. The prettiest thing about it
was the visit to Nara, the old, old capital of Japan,
and the seat of its most venerable worship. We left
Kioto after dinner and traveled at night to avoid the
heat, which was pretty terrible that day. We had
three jinrikishas, one for each of us, and one for Ha-
kodate, also one which went ahead with the luggage.
Each of our jinrikishas had three men, one in the
shafts and two pulling ahead. We left at seven

KOBE. 3G7

o'clock, and reached Nara at one in the morning,
thirty-three miles in six hours. The cheerful little
men went on a steady trot most all the way, and
seemed as merry as crickets when we arrived. Three
times we stopped at teahouses and stuffed them full
of rice, and then trotted off again into the night. It
was bright moonlight the first haK of the way, and the
stars were splendid when the moon went down. We
ambled along through rice fields and tea plantations,
with villages strung along the road and people coming
out to look at us all night.

At Nara, the hospitable people of the Japanese
hotel were looking for us, and soon after our arrival
we were sound asleep. Here we spent two days, in
a perfect wilderness of splendid scenery, historical
association, temple architecture, and curious life.
There are tame sacred deer in the groves, and tame
sacred fishes in the lakes. The trees are hundreds of
years old, and the temples are older. And the beauty
of the landscape is a perpetual delight. Here we spent
Sunday. We went to a little missionary chapel of
our church and heard our service in Japanese, and an
excellent sermon in the same language by a native
layman.

The white missionary in charge was off on his
summer vacation, like the Rector of Trinity Church,
Boston. After service, we sat in a tea house over-
looking the lake, where it was cool. In the afternoon
we strayed in the great temple groves and saw the
priests at their curious worship ; all night the drums
were beating and picturesque heathenism going on in
its remarkable way. Next morning early we left for
Osaka, stopping to visit a most remarkable Buddhist
monastery on the way. After one brilliant day at

368 A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

Osaka, we came here, and to-morrow leave by
steamer for Nagasaki, wkich will take us through the
beautiful inland sea, one of the chief glories of Japan.
That will be the extreme limit of our traveling.

From Nagasaki we come back to Kobe ; then by
sea to Yokohama, and after a few excursions from
that familiar place, we shall be ready for the City of
Rio two weeks from to-day. After that you know
what will become of me until I present myself at the
side door in North Andover. The Kodak is full. I
cannot find anybody wise enough to change the old
plates for the new, I cannot make the back come out
to do it for myself, so I shall bring it home as it is ;
perhaps some of the hundred snaps which I have
made may have caught something interesting, which
the man in Bromfield Street can bring out.

It is hot, beautiful weather, no hotter, I should say,
than we often have in Boston, and only slightly, for
the most part, letting up at night. We are quite well,
and the weather does not hinder our doing all we wish
to do ; the country is in beautifid condition, and the
half-naked folks are brown as berries. And you are
all well, I most devoutly hope. Letters will come to-
day, but they will not bring advices very late. My
love of loves to all of you.

Affectionately, P.

KiOGO Hotel, Kobe, August 9, 1889.
Dear Tood, — The mail came this morning, and
brought me beautiful letters from your father, mo-
ther, and you. Before we start for Nagasaki, in the
beautiful steamer Tokyo-Maru, there is just time to
write a beautiful line to you, and send these beautiful
pictures which have just come in from a beautiful

KOBE. 3G9

photograpliei-'s shop at the corner of the street. Mr.
McVickar sends his love to you with this, and so
does Hakodate, who sits in his native fashion on the
floor at Dr. McVickar's feet. He is a good, wise
man, and when you come to Japan you must have him
for your guide.

I am glad you are having such a good time at
North Andover. Look out foi* me there soon after
you get this. My loveliest love to all.

Your loving uncle, P.

Steamship Wakamoma-Maru,

August 13, 1889.

Dear Gertie, — The Parthia sails this week for
Vancouver, so there seems to be one more chance
to send a letter from Japan before we leave, and it
shall go to you. We are sailing along the southern
coast, between Kobe and Yokohama, with the pretty,
hilly shore in clear sight. We should see Fujiyama
itseK if it were not quite so hazy. This afternoon we
shall be in Yokohama, then we shall probably go off
into the country to Kamakara and Enoshima, and a
few other pretty places, for the one short week that
remains before the " Rio " comes along to carry us
away from this delightful land.

Since I wrote the other day, we have been from
Kobe to Nagasaki and back, sailing twice through the
Inland Sea. It was very lovely, almost as pretty as
Lake George itself. The days were warm and breezy,
the nights had glorious moonlight, and I only wished
you were all here to see the pretty sights. Queer
junks were lounging on the water about us, and
fiumy little villages were on the shore, and curious
Japanese people went pattering about the steamer's

370 A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

deck. None of them were as nice or well dressed as
the little girl I send you, seated between her cherry-
trees, but they were her poorer sisters, and she will
give you some idea of what looking folk they are. I
am quite sure I have seen her a dozen times, as I have
gone in and out of their ridiculous little houses.

And so this fun is ahnost over ! In three weeks we
shall be in San Francisco. ... It will be hard to
realize that this life, which we have been seeinsf so
constantly for these five weeks, will be still going on.
The priests praying in the temples, the girls chatter-
ing over their tea, the jinrikishas running romid the
streets, the jugglers performing in their booths, the
missionaries preaching in their churches, the mer-
chants squatting in their shops, the women toddling
with their babies, the boys swimming in the streams,
and everybody as merry and good-natured as in a
world of dolls. It will be quite as good to remember
as it has been to see.

When you get this, begin to look out for our arrival
at the Golden Gate, and have the corn barn ready for
a pleasant little smoke soon after. My best of love to
everybody. How pretty the piazza at North Andover
must look this pleasant morning! Good-by, dear
Gertie. Your affectionate uncle, P.

Steamship City of Eio be Janeuro,
August 28, 1889.

Dear Arthur, — Japan is far behind us. We
are almost halfway across the Pacific Ocean. Mc-
Vickar is on deck talking to some English people,
and I remembered the letter which I was very glad
to get from you just before I left Yokohama last
week. I want to answer it, first to thank you for it,

STEAMSHIP CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO. 371

and tlien to say how sorry I am that I must not allow
myself to think of accepting your kind invitation to
visit Minnequa on my way across the continent. It
would be a very pleasant thing- to do, but I shall not
much more than get home to Boston for Svmday, the
22d of September, and I have promised myself to
preach there on that day. Then I shall have one
quiet week at North Andover to get my wits and
clothes in order before I start, on the 2d of October,
for the great campaign of General Convention. It
will not do to try and get in anything besides, and the
first that I shall see of you and Lizzie will be when I
appear at breakfast on the morning of October 3, and
we go together to the great opening service at St.
George's. It was very good and thoughtful of you to
propose the visit, but it must not be.

This is a good, slow, steady steamer, with a very
multifarious lot of folk on board, and all is going very
pleasantly. We shall have two Thursdays this week,
picking up the lost day which we dropped here in the
mid-Pacific two months ago. But, in spite of that,
we shall not be in San Francisco until Friday of next
week. Then we are going up to Vancouver and home
by the Canadian Pacific via Winnijieg, St. Paul, and
Chicago. It has been a great success, — the worst
thing of the summer being the steamboat ink with
which I am trying to write this letter. I hope that
all goes well with you, and that Minnequa is gayety
itself. Well, well, another winter's work draws very
near !

My kindest love to Lizzie, and counting on much
talk in October, I am, Affectionately, P.

372 A SUMMER IN JAPAN.

Steamship City of Rio db Janeiro,
Pacific Ocean, September 6, 1889.

Dear William, — We shall be at 'Frisco to-
night, then I will send this last letter of the sum-
mer, which will tell you we are safely across this
mighty pond, and that I shall be with you before two
weeks more are passed. We have had a slow voyage,
because the ship is not a fast one, needs cleaning, and
has not been pressed. We were also one day late in
leaving Yokohama, owing to the severe storms raging
in the Chinese Sea, which were expected to delay
the steamer in arriving at Japan. The whole voyage
has been calm and peaceful. For days and days the
ocean was ahnost without a wave, and at her worst
the ship has not rolled enough to hurt the weak-
est traveler. We have about twenty fii-st-class pas-
sengers, a curious lot, Americans, English, Scotch,
French, German, Russians, Japanese, and a whole
lot of queer Chinese in the steerage, who cannot
go ashore in San Francisco, but will be passed on
to Mexico and other places which do not yet refuse to
take in the poor Celestials. The voyage has not been
dull or tedious, but it will be rather good to go on
shore early to-morrow morning and telegraph to you
that I am safely here. We shall spend Sunday in
San Francisco, and in the evening start by way of
Sacramento for Portland and Puget Sound. We
shall probably arrive in Boston Thursday, the 19th,
and then for a quiet, delightful week at North Ando-
ver before the General Convention at New York.

I hope to hear to-night that all is well with you. If
I hear that, the summer will be perfect. It is five
weeks since your last dates, and one cannot help feel-

STEAMSHIP CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO. 373

ing a bit anxious. I believe all will be well. You
shall hear from me, by and by, just when I will arrive.
Until then, be sure that I am anxious to get home,
and with the best of love to all, count me

Affectionately your dear brother, P„

SUMMER OF 1890.

Lucerne, August 25, 1890.

Dear Johnnie, — You were mighty good to write
me such a fine long letter. Although you will not get
this answer much before I come myself, I cannot help
thanking you and sending you all an affectionate
greeting tliis rainy morning. It is our first real rainy
day. The suminer has been free from blighting heat
and blasting tornado, such as has devastated things at
home. To tliink of South Lawrence getting all blown
to pieces ! I read about it in the " Journal de Geneve,"
and trembled for the corn barn. What a pity that
I have lost your visits to the old house. It must
have been delightful both for you and for Andover. . . .

This has been the quietest of little journeys, but
very pleasant indeed. The streets of London looked
just as we left them ten years ago, and the great
white hills were waiting for us in Chamomiix and In-
terlaken. Of course the people whom we wanted most
to see were aone from London, for the season was over
before we arrived, but I had a delightful little visit
with Tennyson in his home at Akbvorth. He has
grown old, but is bright and clear-headed, and may
give us some more verses yet. Just after I left Eng-
land, Newman died, and the pidpit and press have
been full of laudation and discussion of him ever
since. He was a remarkable man, by no means of the
first class,' for he never got at final principles nor
showed a truly brave mind ; but there was great

LUCERNE. 375

beauty in his cliaracter, and his intellect was very-
subtle. . . . AVhat a wild scene of frivolous excitement
Marion seems to have been ! I do not wonder that
you, H. and the children had to take to the water, to
escape the land. Be sure and all keep well and safe
till we come back, and then for another year of the
old familiar, pleasant work. My kindest love to all
of you. Affectionately, P.

LAST JOURNEY ABROAD.

1892.

H. M. S= Majestic, June 27, 1892.

Dear Mary, — I miss my old companions very
much indeed. It would be very delightful if you and
G. were on deck to-day, as I am sure you would be
if you were on board. The day is delightful, and
the big ship is going splendidly. She is a magnificent
great thing, and could put our dear little Cephalonia
into her waistcoat pocket. Her equipment is sumptu-
ous and her speed is something tremendous, but I do
not know that I like her as well as the old-fashioned
little boats which seem more homelike, and where one
knows how to find his way about. . . . Our captain is
Purcell, who commanded the Adriatic when G., you,
and I once sailed on her. He has given me the use
of his deck-room during the day, so I have a lovely,
quiet time .... Mr. Howard Potter and his family,
and Dr. and Mrs. Watson of Boston, with whom I
sit at an extra table in the hall which opens on the
deck, are about all of whom I see anything.

Yesterday we had service, and I preached in the
great saloon in the morning, and in the evening I held
a service for the second-class passengers, of whom
there is a multitude. There is no gong for meals, but
two rosy little sailor boys march through the shij)
with bugles playing a tune to call us, which is very
pretty indeed. Wednesday morning we shall get to

LONDON. 377

Queenstown, and that night I hope to dine and sleep
at the Adelphi, where I will eat some mushrooms in
your honor. Then I go to London, where I shall be
on Thursday night, and ever so many nights after-
wards, I trust. It looks very nice, but indeed I should
not have been disappointed if the Majestic could not
have taken me, and I had been left in North Andover
for the summer, as I expected when I saw you last.
May it be a beautiful summer to you all. ...

Yours affectionately and majestically, P.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
July 4, 1892.

Dear Gertie, — I have the same old rooms, the
big parlor and bedroom on the second floor ; the boot-
black boy is across the way, the smiling youth is on the
sidewalk, the big porter is in the hall, and everything
is just the way it used to be, only I miss you very
much indeed, and wish you would take the next
steamer and come out. You must not take the City
of Chicago, because she was wrecked, and it would
not have been nice to clamber up the side of that
steep rock on a rope ladder. You had better take the
Cephalonia ; or, if you cannot get her, the Majestic,
which is a splendid great boat, with a great deal of
room and all the luxuries of which you can conceive,
and she comes over in no time. . . .

All your friends are well and asking after you. I
dined at Archdeacon Farrar's Saturday night. Lady
Frances Baillie was there, and so were the Bishop of
Kochester and his wife ; he used to be Dean of Wind-
sor, you remember, when we went there once. Yes-
terday I preached in the morning at St. Margaret's,
and in the evening at the Abbey, and there were a

378 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD.

great many people in both cliurclies. And now to-day,
for I have been out since I began this letter this
morning, I have been running all over town, and last
of all have been to pay my Fourth of July respects to
Mr. Lincoln, the American minister. Do you re-
member when we went to see Mr. Lowell one Fourth
of July, and you sat all the time in the carriage ?

There is a splendid new Velasquez at the National
Gallery. The National Gallery has bought it since
we were last here, and the people for the first time
have a chance of seeing it. . . .

I am o-oing- now to dine at Dr. Sewall's, to-morrow
at the Abbey, Wednesday at Mrs. Synge's, Thursday
at the Dean's, and so on every day. How is Tood ?
Everybody is expecting her, and wondering why she
did not come over this year. They can hardly wait to
see her. Last Saturday there was a garden party at
Lambeth Palace, and everybody looked happy, and
some of them very pretty. Next week I am going to
see the Tennysons, and the week after I go to see
our friend the Bishop of Rochester, who is now the
Bishop of Winchester, and lives at Farnham Castle. . . .
I am coming home on the Pavonia with Uncle eTohn
and Aunt Hattie on the 8th of September. Now I
cannot write any more, but send my love to every-
body, and am Your affectionate uncle,

P.

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
July 11, 1892.

Dear William, — I did not get any time to write
yesterday, because there was preaching to do all day.
In the morning, I preached at a great big church in
Chelsea, and went home to dinner with the minister.

LONDON. 379

Then I came back here and went to sleep in the after-
noon, and had a beautiful time. In the evening, I
preached at St. Peter's, Eaton Square, a large and
fashionable church ; went home to supper with the min-
ister, and found a number of people, quite a Sunday-
evening supper party. ... I am only going to preach
once more, next Sunday morning, for Haweis, to whom
I have owed a sermon ever since he preached so re-
markably in Trinity. When that is over, I shall do
up the sermons and the Episcopal robes, and not open
them again until I get to North Andover and preach
for Mr. Walker.

This morning, I had a long call from Father Hall,
who looks well and hearty, and seems to be enjoying
things over here, and to have no thought of coming-
back to Boston or America. It was pleasant to see
him again.

John and Hattie are somewhere in England. I
heard from John when they arrived at Liverpool, and
he exijects to bring up here next Saturday night.
They seem to have had a very comfortable and pros-
perous voyage. Arthur is now upon the ocean, and
will be here, I suppose, some time near the end of the
week. McVickar is somewhere on this side, but has
not yet shown himself.

I think I shall go to the Continent on the 25th, two
weeks from to-day. I do not know where I shall go,
or what I shall do. I would like to go over the
Stelvio again with you, and if you will come out we
will do it. If you do not come, I shall go alone,
probably as far as Switzerland, perhaps to Venice. . . .

Yours affectionately, P.

380 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD.

London, July 17, 1892.

Dear William, — ... I have just come back
from preaching for Mr. Haweis at his church in
Marylebone, and have promised to take kmcheon here
with Arthur at half past one, and then go and hear
Farrar preach at the Abbey at three. Before he
comes I will begin my Sunday note to you. I am not
going to preach any more. Next Sunday I shall be
here with Johnnie, and we will go and hear some of
the great men whom this big city can supply.

. . . Yesterday I spent at Lord Tennyson's, going
down with Farrar in the morning and getting back to
dinner. The old man was in beautiful condition,
gentle, gracious, and talkative until he went for his
snooze, as he called it, after luncheon. He read us
some of his poetry, and talked about it in the most
interesting way. Lady Tennyson is a beautifid in-
valid, and the young people, Hallam, his wife, and
children, are delightful.

We have been to the afternoon service at the
Abbey, and had a pleasant anthem and a fine sermon
from Archdeacon Farrar. The whole thing goes on,
you see, very much after the old fashion, and is very
good. After another week I shall be glad to be away,
and then I shall think of you, in Paris and among the
hills. . . .

Westminster Palace Hotel, London,
July 24, 1892.

Dear Tood, — . . . Yesterday we were at the
National Gallery and saw the Botticellis, Giorgiones,
Tintorettos, Titians, and others. The afternoon be-
fore, we took a fine drive in the Park and had a
lovely time. This afternoon we have all been to

KULM. 381

Westminster Abbey and heard Archdeacon Farrar
preach a fine sermon, liight in the middle of it a girl
went wild and shrieked at the top of her voice, and
they had to carry her out neck and heels. Don't ever
do that, will you? . . .

I am going to leave Tuesday morning for the Conti-
nent. I do not know where I shall go, but I think Dr.
McVickar will go with me, and we shall find some
snow mountains somewhere. I am very sorry about
the electric railway at North Andover, and the trees.
Perhaps we cannot go there any more after this year.
Where do you think we had better go ? I went the
other day to the Bishop of Winchester's. He lives
at Farnham Castle, an awfully old affair, with keep,
drawbridge, and dungeons underground, and a park
of three hundred acres and deer in it.

D. and B. have grown up to be young ladies, and
D. sits at the head of her father's table. I am glad
you are reading so many nice books. You will
know all about things when you come abroad. How
are all your friends ? Dear me ! it sounds very far
away, but I shall come home by and by, and we will
get a few days in the old house together before we
break up and call the summer done. . . . Good-by,
ray love to all, and I am

Your dear uncle, P.

St. Moritz, Engadine, Hotel Kulm,
August 7, 1892.

My dear Mary, — ... It has been a very good
week. Last Sunday we spent at Trouville. That
means Dr. McVickar and I. Monday we went to
Paris and put up at the Grand Hotel. It looked very
bright and familiar, just as it did when G., you, and

382 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD.

1 were tliere. You and G. were not there this time,
for which I was very sorry.

Tuesday evening we took the Orient Express for
Munich, the train which you know we thought of tak-
ing, but did not, from Strasburg to Paris. It was very
swift and comfortable, and brought us to Munich at
noon on Wednesday. We stayed at the Baierischer
Hof . . . . Thursday morning we took a train to Inns-
bruck, but did not go by the Achensee. As we passed
Jenbach, we saw they had a railway from Jenbach to
the Achensee, with queer, tilted- up cars, like those
that go up the Pilatus. Friday morning we took the
rail to Landeck, and then a carriage for a two days'
drive up the valley of the Inn, which brought us
here. , . . We slept at the Tyroler Hof, where
A. and L. and G. and you and I were five years
ago. . . .

This is a glorious place, and the weather is superb.
We shall stay here for several days, and then I do not
know where we shall go. ... I wish you were all here
this afternoon, for the snow mountains are very
fine. . . .

Lucerne, August 14, 1892.

Dear Gertie, — I passed the Restaurant Titlis
this morning, and thought of you and the night we
spent there before they moved us to the pretty Entre-
sol in the Schweitzer Hof. The Schweitzer Hof now
is full, and we are lodged, Dr. McVickar and I, in the
top story of the Lucerner Hof. Last night there were
the band and the fireworks in front of the Schweitzer
Hof, the old way. . . .

We came here yesterday over the St. Gotthard
from Lugano, on the lake of Lugano. There we had
spent a day, climbing up Monte Generosa by a queer

INTERLAKKN. 383

old railway, like that which climbs up the Mount Pila-
tus, which I can see from my window now, if I almost
break my neck by twisting- round tlie corner for a
view. We came to Lugano from Cadenabbia on the
lake of Como, and to Cadenabbia we had come by the
Maloja Pass and the beautiful lake from St. Moritz,
whence I wrote last Sunday; that is thus far our
journey. ...

Oh, I wish you were here, and that we were to go
over the Brunig to-morrow to Interlaken, M. and you,
and I. But you can see how it all looks. The lake,
the boats, the flags, the jseople, and the hills around
it.

I send my best love to you all, and by and by will
see you at North Andover.

Yours affectionately and affectionately, P.

Hotel Victoria, Interlaken,

August 21, 1892.

Dear William, — There is no letter this week,
from any of you, for which I am very sorry. I hope
you have not grown tired of me, and given me up
altogether.

Do you remember Grindelwald and the Bear Hotel,
on whose balcony we sat one long afternoon, wait-
ing for the rain to stop, so that we could ascend the
Wengern Alp ? M. and G. and I went to the same
Bear Hotel two years ago, and sat in its hosiDitable
courtyard, drank coffee, and had our photographs
taken by a low-spirited practitioner a little way beyond.
I went over there yesterday to see the ruins. It was
burnt down on Thursday, the Bear Hotel, the photo-
grapher's shop, and pretty nearly the whole village,
a hundred houses in all destroyed, and ever so many

S84 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD.

wretched peasants thrown out into the cold workl.
It is quite awful. You will never see the Bear Hotel
again. They have a railway from Grindelwald to the
Wengern Alp, and down again to Lauterbrunnen, so
there will be no more pleasant horseback rides across
the meadows and down the steep descent upon the
other side.

It has been a lazy week. I tarried in Lucerne until
Thursday. The days were hot and lovely. McVickar
left me on Tuesday and went to Paris, where he must
have been hot and wretched for the last few days.
Thursday I took train and came over the Brunig here.
Now I am expecting, to-morrow, the 22d, John and
Hattie. They are at Lucerne to-day, having reached
there last Friday. . . . Their time in Switzerland will
not be very long, but I think they have enjoyed every-
thing pretty well. You cannot go very wrong in
Europe. When they have joined me, I think we shall
go to Thun, Berne, Martigny, Tete Noire, Chamounix,
Geneva, and so to Paris, where we shall get a few days
before it is time to go to London, Liverpool, and the
Pavonia.

These are sad tidings of the riots and fightings in
Buffalo and Tennessee. It is good that violence
should be put down by military force, but that does
not solve the problem of how the great men are to
live with the little men, and what is the function of
government as regards them both. Only time and
events and the slow progress of mankind will settle
that.

Meanwhile, I send you all my dearest love and am
Ever and always yours affectionately, P.

CHAMOUNIX. 385

Hotel d'Angleterre, Chamounix,

August 28, 1892.

Dear William, Mart, Gertrude, Agnes, and
ToOD, — This is the last letter I shall write to any of
you on this journey, because next Sunday it will be
within four days of the sailing of the Pavonia, and it
will not be worth while to write. This fun is almost
over. John and Hattie joined me last Monday at In-
terlaken.

. . , Tuesday we went to Lauterbrunnen and the
Trummelbach, and had a fine, bright, sunshiny day.
Wednesday we loafed about Interlaken all the morn-
ing, and took the boat and train in the afternoon for
Berne by Thun. It was not clear when we reached
Berne, so we did not see the great view of the Alps,
but saw the bears in their pit. I showed the old
woman on the terrace the bear which I bought of her
for fifty centimes two years ago and have carried in
my pocket ever since, which pleased her simple soul
very much indeed, and pleased mine more. She
thought it very pretty of me to have taken such fond
care of it, and she offered to make it brown and young
again for nothing. But I did not want her to do that,
and told her I would bring it back again in two years
more to see her.

We went back to the Berner Hof for dinner, and
in the evening to a Beer Garden and heard music.
Thursday it rained hard, but we came to Martigny by
rail, and after we reached there in the afternoon it
was pleasant enough for us to take a drive and see the
Gorge de Trient. Friday we drove over the Tete
Noire. It was a beautiful day, and the views were
prettiest and best. Saturday the mountains were as
clear as clear could be, so we are lucky.

386 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD.

An Oxford professor tried to go up Mont Blanc
Thursday in the storm, and died of exhaustion. Yes-
terday, through the telescope in the hotel yard, we
could see them bringing his dead body down over the
snow, and I suppose it arrived here late last night.

The only high ascent made by our party, and that
was entirely successful, was John's going with a mule
and a guide to the Montanvert, crossing the Mer de
Glace, and coming down by the Mauvais Pas. The
journey was accomplished without any accident, and
the climber reached the hotel about three o'clock in
the afternoon, not much fatigued.

To-morrow we go to Geneva (Hotel de la Paix),
and the next day shall take the long, tiresome ride to
Paris ; after that you know about what will happen
to us, until you find us in your arms again. . . I am
very well indeed, thank you, and shall be glad to see
you all again. Yours most affectionately, P.

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